#he has four!!! moles on his left palm that i love so bad and no one is ever gonna see them kjfdhnkfdjhn

[mattodore]

not many people online atm so i figured i’d show off theo’s freshly customized moles :) i'll post a proper close up of his face moles later because i'm obsessed, but for now here’s the full thing.

also this is how this background looks with the character page (this isn't the pic i'll be using, i was just testing things out). i'll probably alter the code to match the background rather than editing the background’s color, i think.

[anchanted-one]

Children of the Storm, Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Inner Workings

Master Oteg could not help but look around the Temple atrium again. It was a well-built structure, just like the rest of this city. Every inch of the pillars was covered in carvings of deities, their messengers and mounts, and demons. There were several large bells that people rang at the end of their prayer. All of these were hundreds of years old, just like the structure.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43158375/chapters/108510619

An hour prior, the people had filled the compound and watched as hundreds of large lamps were lit and placed on a lamp tower. A young singer, probably Nariel’s age, sang a lovely song as the devotees prayed in absolute silence. Once she finished her song, the final lamp was lit, and all seven of the temple doors were thrown open to show the two-meter-tall idol within, decorated beautifully with rich cloth and colors.

The main temple’s doorway was wide enough for him to see from his vantage point.

Oteg hadn’t needed Sumathi to tell him that this was Rudra, their ancestor and hero deity. According to her, it was a good likeness as it had been carved by his son. And despite the statue having eight arms rather than four, Oteg could believe it; when he saw the idol up close, he saw several imperfections such as moles, age lines, and scars, quite unlike the perfection most cultures bestowed upon their gods.

Whether Rudra had been an actual god, however, Oteg sincerely doubted. While it wasn’t uncommon for creatures like the Bendu to appear in the physical plain and be worshipped as gods, beings like them did not age and die. They did not have twelve children. In fact, Oteg believed that it was something more to be a hero than a deity. Mortal beings were imperfect and weak after all. Riddled with doubt and pain. A mortal who could persevere through unimaginable odds and save their people was worthy of adoration. Perhaps that’s why hero-deities were so common.

Priests chanted hymns as they went about performing rituals whose true meanings were probably lost to time. They decorated idols with flowers, leaves, seashells, jewelry and ivory, they lit incense sticks, and offered fruits to the deities in the shrine.

It was so rare these days to see life in a society like this, these days.

He saw Tarsten enter the complex and clasped his palms and bowed at the statue in the same fashion as the Raudra did. Then he looked around, and his eyes fell on Oteg. He left his footwear at the door—again in respect to Raudra custom—and walked up to the small Jedi Master, B8 at his tail.

“I see you’ve started to go native, Corporal!”

The man laughed. “I try to follow house rules whenever they’re not bad.”

“I take it your research trip has borne some fruit?”

“A little,” Tarsten sat down beside him. “Like you said earlier, we’ve only known ‘em a few hours, and this isn’t an unsophisticated culture. And I’ve only had like forty minutes!”

The old Jedi Master chuckled. “Whatever little you have learned, I am eager to hear!”

“Well to start with, their gods. They have either seventeen million gods, or seventeen varieties. Bait discovered the possible mistranslation right before we entered the temple.”

“I think it’s the latter, sir,” the droid said. “But remember that there are cultures out there who have gods assigned to every rock, mountain, tree and bend in a river. But even for them, seventeen million seems a lot.”

“Indeed. As you can guess, Rudra is one of their chief deities. His edicts govern their everyday life. The first one: ‘All of my children are born free, and no king, god, or demon may take that away.’”

“Very noble,” Oteg nodded.

“Yes. The Raudra are big on that edict. Any time we bring up slavery on other worlds, it enrages them. But at the end of the day, those slaves aren’t Raudra, so those slavers are ‘merely’… evil rather than sacrilegious.”

“‘Our way is not their way’.”

“Indeed. That’s their third edict, by the way. ‘The goat is not the tiger. It is foolish for one to expect the other to live as they do’. Apparently, there was another race on this world called the ‘Iakshas’. They were similar to the Raudra in many ways, but different. The Raudra fought them many times in their ancient history and hated them; but they freed the Raudra as their namesake fought the great serpent. They also provided a distraction as his children armed themselves. Many died. In fact, they died out not long after, having lost many of their women to the serpent. I believe this was why they helped Rudra in the first place. It was when they fought alongside them that Rudra and his people realized that their blood ran the same colors, their love for their families was no less. That was why Rudra made sure to include tolerance as part of his creed.”

“So that was the third edict?”

“Yes. The second edict is ‘the society is a giant—organism for want of a better word—and the Raudra are only as strong as our society. If any aspect of their society is weak, the organism cannot survive strife.’ And by that he meant that warriors, priests, producers, servants, philosophers, rulers, artisans, merchants, laborers and builders. Each group is important. None more so than any other.”

“It seems like the Raudra have come close to a utopia!”

“I don’t know about that, Master Jedi,” Tarsten disagreed. “That second edict… well, those classes I mentioned? They’re not hereditary by law, but they are by tradition. Especially in their cities. A child born to a priest will almost always be a priest themselves. They can technically become an artisan if they wish, but finding a teacher is difficult. Most parents only pass on secrets to their families. And even though they are all supposed to be equal, in reality…”

“Some degree of inequality has crept into place, I assume?”

“Right. The servants probably have it the worst. They cannot say no to any order. At least, those related to their duties. If a child asks one to clean up their room, they can’t say no. Even if they have other things to do. And often, people refuse to perform different duties—even if it’s critical—unless there is absolutely no other choice. On the plus side, no one will ever hurt anyone who isn’t a warrior or noble in battle. If two clans are fighting—and it isn’t unheard of—the warriors will ignore any servants who happen to be on the battlefield. In the same way, the other classes are off-limits too. And more about the inequality; the nobility and priests look down on the other classes. And the philosophers too, to a lesser degree. Which is interesting, because to be fully considered a noble or a philosopher, they have to live among each of the other classes for a year each. Live as them. They’re taught how by their elders, of course. You’d think that would breed some sympathy, but apparently not. It’s just so that they can optimize them. There’s some darkness under there. It’s a society whose rulers might one day become openly oppressive.”

“That’s a terrible shame.”

“There’s something else I thought you should know. Most of the Raudra can feel the ‘Gift’ to a small extent. I doubt they could ever be Jedi. But it’s there. And Rudra…” Tarsten hesitated, looked around covertly before Oteg chuckled.

“They cannot understand you, Soldier.”

“Like I said, they can use the Force. I’ve seen people do weird things before. Anyway. Rudra struck down his enemy, the great serpent, with a tower of lightning.”

“The same as the Devarath priest.”

“I believe the priest’s name was Aparajitha. Anyway. I heard the details of Rudra’s fight in greater detail. His wife fell dead before his eyes, protecting him from a blow. And he howled in pain and rage. He fired Lightning from his outstretched fingertips as the thunderclouds gathered above him. He then fired off a lightning bolt from the sky, what was what penetrated the serpent’s hide, killing him at once. There is no doubt in my mind. He embraced the Dark Side. Even for a moment. He never again showed that kind of inclination in his life, promoting peace and cooperation. But his claim to fame came from using the Dark Side.”

Oteg thought that over before nodding carefully. “And they worship him for it.”

“Like I said, he only used it that once.”

“Perhaps, but the Raudra were lucky. Too often, that single contact is the undoing of a Jedi. It is for this reason why we discourage attachments.”

“Still… he wasn’t one of them. I suppose that is heroic in its own way.”

Oteg had to agree.

“There was a fourth edict, by the way. ‘Never forget your soul. Even if grief or anger or pain make it feel slippery in your hands, always hold to yourself. Never forget your pride and honor as my children. Never let the storm within take you’. Almost a warning against the Dark Side’s allure, I think.”

“So… freedom, unity—and dignity, tolerance, and self-control,” Oteg summarized. He thought for several moments. “They are a good people,” he realized. “But on the edge. It would take a small push to get them to Fall.”

“Not happened once in over a thousand years. Not once. And there has been cause in all those times. Rudra and Aparajitha weren’t the only ones to summon Lightning. But it was always for the same reason. Protecting everyone else. Those stone tablets you see at the feet of their lord? All names. All theirs. They are considered aspects of their Father for their sacrifice. Aparajitha’s name will be added there at the next full moon. He will be the eleventh to receive that honor. It seems that they who are chosen by Rudra to defend his children… well, their third eye turns white.”

“So in summary, there is little for us to fear?”

“Yes, sir. It seems Sumathi has decided that we’re to be afforded the same rank as high nobility. Even us grunts. And like you said, no one has challenged her action.”

“I take it she’s a noble?”

“Yes, Master Jedi. But Clan nobles and priests do not have the same holier-than-thou attitude as the city nobles, which is why they are more loved than the high ones.”

“Interesting, this all is.”

“One last thing. I’ve heard who your Council is going to be. The Head Priestess of the temple, Meghna. Indran, the highest-ranking noble in the city, the son of the former king—apparently the title isn’t hereditary, but they didn’t have time to do it right. And five top advisors, all philosophers. Sumathi will be there, and Sukanya will be watching over Vajra. She is to serve as his guardian, in case…”

“In case we try to take him by force.”

“Exactly. And… because of an interesting turn of events, every Raudra in the city will fight to the death to defend him, if they think it comes to that.”

“Why? What turn of events?”

“His third eye has turned white.”

Sumathi jogged in their direction, a small smile on her face. She said something, and B8 translated. “It is almost time. We need to summon anyone who is attending.”

“Tarsten?”

Tarsten began talking into his comm.

*

[sunmoonandeddie]

as long as i’m living

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 4,097

summary: Battles are always hard, especially the aftermath and what’s left behind.

warnings: Parent death.  Cussing.  Violence.  Angst.  Hurt to comfort.

a/n:  Lmao I don’t always get the motivation to write, but when I do...  Please let me know what you guys think.

There’s a certain feeling that lingers in the air in the ending moments of the battle.  When the dust has started to settle and you’re not quite sure whether or not that was the last of your enemy or if you need to prepare for another wave.  The wariness clung to your skin like sweat as you look around, heart still racing a million miles an hour.

The scent of blood hadn’t yet been overtaken by the scent of death, but it wouldn’t be long before it did.  It’s tangy and metallic and you could just choke on it.

This particular battle was at a Hydra base, and the reptilians that you’d been fighting for hours covered the ground.

As you looked around and your eyes met a pair of lifeless orbs, you’re reminded that even though they were horrible, despicable people, they were still people.

They were human.

Their blood ran just as red as yours, their fingerprints a pattern just as unique as yours.  There would never be someone just like them.  There would never be someone with the same marks on their skin, their moles and freckles and stretchmarks.  They wouldn’t have the same experiences or memories, and the ones that the people on the ground had were gone forever.

But you scoffed as your eyes made out the Hydra symbol on an agent’s shirt.

Hydra’s members might’ve had the bodies of humans, but every single one of them had a monster’s mind.

You couldn’t bring yourself to believe there was anything human about choosing a life of killing people in the name of hatred, of taking down mankind.

But the worst part of the aftermath of a battle was when you had to comb through after to find survivors.  You had to take those that had survived in for questioning and then they were usually thrown into a prison cell for the rest of their lives.

“Honey?”

A good amount of the tension that resided in your chest and leaked out into your shoulders released as you heard the sound of your lover’s voice.

“Bucky,” you breathed out in relief as he came down the hall.

But there was protocol that had to be followed.

He stopped six feet away, taking a breath.  “How many dates did it take before I kissed you?” He asked.

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.  “Four.  And I kissed you first because you were too nervous.”

Security questions.  Things only you and your teammates would know.  The lot of you had been through enough cases of stolen identities and imposters attempting to infiltrate the team for you to go without them.

The hunk of a man that you called yours rushed forward and cupped your face like you were made of fine china before kissing you soundly.

Every logical thought left your head as you melted against him.  Butter.  That’s what you were anytime he touched you.  Fucking melted butter.

You had never thought that you’d meet someone that could make you feel so at home until you’d met him four years before.  It had taken you a little while to let him in, and most people were surprised when they found out that he was the one that was breaking down your walls and not the other way around.

“You okay?” He asked, even as he was already pulling back to check you over.  He lifted your arms to check for any injuries before doing the same to each leg while letting you lean on him.  A sly smile spread over his face as he then began to pat down your tummy and your back, ending with playfully squeezing your ass.

You knew part of it was actually to look for injuries, but the bigger point of it was him trying to unfurrow your brow and relax, to get you to laugh.

And it worked every time.

But a whimper cut through the air and you froze.  “What was that?” You asked as your head whipped towards the direction it had come from.

“I’m not sure,” Bucky said, his hand going to the gun that rested in his holster.  “Wait he—”

Before he could even finish his sentence, you were rushing towards the sound.

You had a gut feeling that it wasn’t an enemy.  That hadn’t been the sound of a cold-hearted Hydra agent.

“M-Mommy?”

Heart hammering, you stopped in the doorway of what looked like a mini laboratory, stopping in your tracks as you saw the scene laid out before you.

You jerked awake as you heard the sirens going off, the alarms.  You’d been through enough safety drills to know that they meant trouble.

Your mother reached for you, her loving hands picking you up and wrapping you in a warm blanket.  “There we go…  There’s my baby girl.  All nice and warm,” she cooed.

Why was she in her work suit?  You didn’t understand…  She wasn’t supposed to work until morning, right?

The only light in the room was coming from the window, moonlight streaming in and landing on your bed, where your pile of stuffed animals rested.

“Mama?” You yawned, eyes still fuzzy from sleep.  “Mama, what’s going on?”

“We’re gonna play a game, okay?” She whispered, bringing her finger to her lips in a shushing motion.  There was a look in her eyes that you couldn’t name.  It was a foreign wobble in her lower lips, a glassiness in her eyes.

The fabric of her black suit was rough as you clung to her.  “What kind of game, mama?  I’m tired…  Why can’t I go back to bed?”

She grabbed your favorite stuffed animal from the bed, a stuffed elephant named Pinky, and placed her in your arms.  “Because we gotta, okay?” She said, a tear trickling down her cheek.

For some reason, the tone of her voice got you to stop complaining, and you nodded.  In your short life, you’d never seen her so… panicked.

Your mother plastered on a smile as she carried you to the miniscule kitchen of your apartment, over to the lazy Susan in the corner.  “We’re gonna play a game of hide and seek, okay?  And we gotta win, yeah?  You like winning.”

That was true.  You’d had a bit of a competitive streak.

After you confirmed what she said with a nod, she hugged you tight, tighter than you’d ever been hugged before.  “Mama loves you so much,” she said, tears openly rolling down her cheeks as she pressed kisses all over your face.  “You know how much mama loves you?  More than anything.  More than the moon and all the stars in the sky.”

Her sadness was starting to spill into you as you looked at her, your chubby hands holding onto her cheeks.  “M-Mama?  Mama, what’s happening?”

“Everything’s gonna be okay, baby girl.  Mama loves you.  And I’m always gonna love you and I’m always gonna be here for you, okay?” She said, sniffling as she wiped at your eyes.  “No more tears, okay?  No crying in hide and seek, yeah?  We gotta win and we can’t win if we’re crying.”

“I love you, mama,” you said, feeling the overwhelming urge to tell her over and over.  “I love you.”

“I know, baby girl,” she said with a weak laugh as she kissed your cheeks.  She opened up the door of the corner cabinet, pushing everything inside back to make enough room for a four year old.  Your mother wrapped you and Pinky up in the blanket a little tighter, a weak smile on her lips.  “You’re gonna hide in here, okay?  And you’re gonna go all the way to the back, yeah?”  She set you in the cabinet, holding your face in her hands.  “And listen.  Look at me.  Look at me.  You have to be completely silent.  No noise at all, okay?  We gotta win hide and seek.”

Your brows furrowed as you started to get out of the cabinet.  “B-But I wanna hide with you, mama.  Where are you hiding?  Who are we playing with?”

She shook her head as she urged you back into the cabinet.  “Shh…  Shh…”  She glanced back towards the front door before looking back at you.  There were footsteps running by outside, but so far no one had attempted to come in.  

“Mama?” You whispered, your eyes round with fear as you glanced towards the door.  “W-Who are we playing with?”

The shaky breath she took alarmed you.  “It’s a surprise, okay?” She said as she got you to sit back down in the cabinet. “But listen.  Mama needs you to cover your ears, yeah?  And no coming out or peeking until the sirens stop or I come and get you, okay?”

A nod.  “O-Okay, mama…”

She pressed her lips to your forehead, and you could feel her tears on your scalp.  “I love you so much, baby girl.  So much.”  Your mother closed the cabinet door after urging you to scoot towards the back, Pinky clutched to your chest.

The cabinet was pitch black except for the little sliver of light that came from the crack at the bottom of the door.

Heart pounding, you covered your ears just like she said, squeezing your eyes shut for good measure.

You could hear the blood pounding in your ears.  Despite your mother reassuring you that everything was going to be okay, you couldn’t stop crying.

There were random bangs here and there, and then you heard the banging on the front door of your apartment.  There was another bang, and then a loud thud, like a door being slammed against the wall.

You couldn’t quite hear what else was happening as you sat inside the cabinet.  Pinky’s soft fur and the warmth of the blanket was the only comfort you had.

There was a commotion outside, but your mother’s words rang in your ears.  No peeking or uncovering your ears or getting out of the cabinet until the sirens stopped or she came and got you.

But this was bad.  Really bad.  You could feel it in your gut.

Your mother had always told you to trust your gut, but you could tell this wasn’t the time.

But maybe just a peek wouldn’t hurt…  You just wanted to know what was going on.

Palms sweaty, you opened the door just a crack to peek out into the kitchen.  Your blood ran cold as you saw your mother pointing a gun at a man that was standing in the doorway.

“Get the fuck out,” she snarled.  You’d always known she was a powerful woman, a lioness, but you’d never gotten to see it in person.

The man sneered, the look of the devil in his eyes as he shifted his gun in his grip.  “You’re not the one in charge here, are you?  Not exactly one to be giving orders.”  He turned his head slightly as someone spoke into his earpiece.  The look that settled over his face was horrifying.  “It’s not personal,” he said as his finger twitched on the trigger.  A loud bang echoed throughout the room, your hand slapping over your mouth as you fought the scream that bubbled up in your throat.

Blood splattered across the pristine white cabinets of your kitchen as your mother fell.  Her knees made a thud as she cried out, falling onto her side.  There was an indent on one of the cabinets where the bullet had hit after it exited her lower back.

“Like I said,” the man said with a snort.  “It’s not personal.”  He left with his boots thudding against the tiled floor, leaving the door open.

Your entire body was trembling as you pushed the cabinet door open, your heart racing.  “M-Mama?” You said as you slowly left the cabinet.  “Mama?”

She had curled up on the ground, pressing her hands to the entry wound on her tummy.  “B-Baby girl…  Y-You need to g-get back in the cabinet, okay?”

Shaking your head, you crawled towards her, not caring that your purple pajama pants were getting soaked.  Your lower lip wobbled as you went to her side.  “Mama?  Y-You’re hurt.”  You needed to get help.  You had to.

You had started to get to your feet, your legs wobbling, when she grabbed your hand.  “Baby girl.  Baby.  C-Come here,” she said.  She knew there was no way she’d be able to convince you to get back in the cabinet now.  Her slender fingers, which you had always thought were so pretty and elegant, reached up to cup your face.  “It’s gonna b-be okay.  I promise.  B-But I need you to stay right here with me.”  Your mother shifted, wincing in pain.  “My baby.  I love you so, so m-much.  And I’m always g-gonna be with you.  I promise.”

“Y-You pinky promise?” You whimpered, holding up your pinky for her.

A weak smile brightened her face for just a second as she nodded, wrapping her larger pinky around yours.  “I p-pinky promise.  Now can you come over h-here?  Get real close.”

Sniffling, you moved closer to her and let her guide your head to rest over her heart.  “I love you, m-mama…  You’re gonna b-be okay, right?”

“Yes, baby.  I’m g-gonna be okay,” she said, her voice cracking.  “I love you more than the moon and all the stars in the sky.”  Her arm wrapped around you, keeping you close as she started to softly sing the lullaby she sang to you every night.  “I’ll love you forever.  I’ll like you for always.  As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be…”  It was from your favorite night time book, Love You Forever.  There wasn’t a single night that you could remember where she didn’t read it to you before bed.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as she sang the lullaby over and over, her free hand smoothing over your hair.  Her heartbeat was getting weaker.  You could feel it.

She was fading.

“I’ll love you forever.  I’ll like you for always.  As long as I’m living…”

Silence.

Her hand had stopped moving.  Her arm around you went limp.

“M-Mama?”  Lower lip wobbling, you sat up a little, turning to look at her face.  Your hands moved to her face.  “Mama?  M-Mama, you gotta wake up,” you said as you shook her a little.  The panic was starting to set in when she still didn’t move, even though her eyes were open.  Everyone had always told you that you’d had her eyes, but now they were strange and unnatural, unfocused.

“Mama!” You cried, literally begging at this point as you shook her even harder.  “M-Mama, you gotta wake up!  Wake up!”  You slumped against her as you realized she wasn’t going to wake up, sobbing into her chest.  “Mama…  Mama, please…  Don’t go…”

It was several hours before anyone found you.  At least four.

There were footsteps coming down the hall, but you hardly noticed.  You were curled up against her body, holding onto her hand even though her fingers had gone cold.

“Shit.”

Your head slowly turned to see several agents in the doorway.

“Hey, kid,” the one in front said after a rather pregnant pause.

Hiccups shook your chest as you looked at him.  “M-Mama’s gone.  And n-no one came to h-help.”

The man sighed, rubbing his temples.  “Come on.  Let’s get you out of there,” he said, walking over and picking you up. “NO!  NO!” You screamed, kicking out at him.  It was the most energy you’d had in hours.  “PUT ME DOWN!  I WANNA STAY WITH MAMA!  I WANNA STAY!”

“You said it yourself, kid,” he said as he carried you out of there.  “Your mom’s gone.”

There was a little girl sitting on the ground, her hair in pigtail braids.  “Mommy?” She repeated, her little voice wavering as she shook the woman that was lying on the ground.  “Mommy, wake up.  You gotta wake up.”

It was like a mirror had been forced in front of your face, and then someone had smashed your head into it.

It was jarring, being reminded that Hydra agents, just like any other humans, had children.  And when they died for their cause, those children were left behind as orphans.

“Honey…,” Bucky whispered behind you, but he stopped once he realized what was happening.

He knew your past.  Of course he did.  And he visited your mother’s grave with you every chance the two of you got.

You did always get to see her name on the Wall of Valor anytime you went to any SHIELD facility.  You could never bring yourself to pass it without kissing your fingers and pressing it to her name.

It was hard sometimes.  You didn’t really get to know her as a person or an agent.  You knew her as your mother, of course, but you wanted to truly know her.  You wanted to know who her first love was, her favorite brand of jeans, what her favorite movie genre was.

And this little girl would be just like you if you didn’t do something about it.  She’d end up in the foster system, being passed around until either someone adopted her or she aged out, like you had.

You couldn’t let that happen.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you said softly as you moved closer to the little girl.  “What’s your name?”

She jerked in surprise, backing away towards her mother as she looked up at you and Bucky with wide brown eyes.  “W-Who are you?”

A fierce urge of protection came over you as you gave her your name, crouching down and watching her closely.  “Can you tell me your name?”

You were doing your best to fight the grief that was welling up in your chest.  It wasn’t often that you allowed yourself to think about the night that you’d lost your mother, but now you were reliving it.  Colors and sounds and scents were flying through your mind at an alarming pace as you tried to focus on the little girl in front of you.

“V-Valerie,” she said after a second.  She sniffed as she looked back at the body behind her.  “C-Can you h-help my mommy?  She’s not waking up.”

Taking a shaky breath, you moved towards her.  Your shaking fingers pressed against her pulse point in her neck, and just as you suspected, there was nothing.  She was almost cold to the touch already.

Valerie was younger than you had been, but only by a few months.  Her round cheeks were stained with tears as she watched you examine her mother.

“Val, can you look at me?” You asked gently as you took her hands in yours.  Your throat felt tight as you tried to find the words to explain.  It hadn’t exactly been done gently for you.

She nodded, her soft eyes hopeful.  “C-Can you help mommy?”

A deep breath.  Count to five.

“You know…  When I was your age…  When I was your age, my mommy had to go away,” you said quietly, squeezing her hands.  “She got hurt.  And…  And she had to go somewhere better.  Somewhere she wouldn’t hurt anymore.”

“But…  But I want her here,” Valerie whimpered, a fresh wave of tears coming over her.  “Why can’t she be not hurt here?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” you admitted as you smoothed her flyaways back away from her face.  God, your own tears were threatening to overwhelm you.  “But my mommy is always with me, just like yours will be with you,” you said.  You pointed to her heart.  “Right here.”

You’d have to explain in more detail later on down the road, or maybe she’d just come to understand as she got older.  In all honesty, you just really hoped that she would grow to understand.

Her brows furrowed as she looked down at your joined hands.  “But…  But mommy feels better now?  S-She’s not hurt?”

Pressing your lips together, you nodded.  “Exactly.  Her body is here, but her heart and her soul is not, yeah?  And she’s looking down on you right now.”  You looked around, trying to find any sign of another parent.  “Do you have a dad?”

She shook her head, her thumb going to her mouth.

Bucky’s heart hurt for you and the little girl as you searched the suite, eventually finding birth certificates and everything you’d need.

“Bucky, can you take these?” You asked, knowing that you two needed to get back to the quinjet.  There was no doubt that your teammates were shouting into Bucky’s comm, since you’d turned yours off.  After the documents were safe in his arms, you turned to Valerie.  “Sweetheart, can I pick you up?  We need to get out of here, okay?”  It took a second for her to agree, but you easily lifted her into your arms and rested her on your hip.  “Do you have a favorite blankie?  A favorite stuffed animal?”  Once her stuffed animal was in her arms and her head was covered with the blanket, her vision obscured from seeing the carnage of the battle, you nodded to Bucky, and the three of you quickly found your way to the quinjet.

“Not a word,” Bucky warned the others as the three of you climbed on.

The others were watching in confusion as you took Valerie to one of the seats farthest away from everyone.  “Okay, sweetheart,” you said as you gently uncovered her head.  “It’s gonna be a few hours until we’re home.  You wanna get some sleep?”

She nodded, still sucking her thumb.  “W-Will you stay with me?” She asked, clinging to you.

“Yes.  I will,” you said reassuringly.  “Can I change out of these clothes first?  They’re a little uncomfy, huh, baby?”

Bucky moved over to her, quietly introducing himself as your boyfriend as you changed into civilian clothing in the bathroom.

“What are you thinking?” Natasha asked the second you emerged.  “Taking a kid?”

“We killed her mother,” you said, watching Bucky and Valerie over her shoulder.  It definitely seemed like they were getting along…

“Her mother was a Hydra agent.”

Your brows furrowed as you met her eyes again.  “And?”  Out of all people, Natasha should’ve understood why you brought the little girl along.  “She’s a child.  One that deserves a future.”  A grin spread over your lips as you moved back to the two, relaxing as you saw the faint smile on Valerie’s lips.

“I may have promised Val that we could get ice cream tomorrow,” Bucky said, giving you puppy eyes as he looked up from where he was kneeling in front of the little girl.

“Yeah?  I think we can do ice cream,” you said with a slow smile as you sat down.

The little girl immediately crawled into your lap and curled up against your chest, closing her eyes.  She was dozing on and off the two hour plane ride home, and you immediately took her to bed once you got back.

Bucky and you tucked her into your shared bed, knowing you’d have to go and get her a bed and everything the next day.  But you didn’t mind giving up your bed for her.

“I’ll love you forever.  I’ll like you for always,” you sang sweetly to her as you unbraided her hair, smoothing it away from her face.  “As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be…”

“She’s so tiny,” Bucky whispered, looking at the little girl with a soft reverence.  “She reminds me of Becca when she was small…”  He couldn’t help but smile as he rested his chin on the edge of the bed.  “We need to get her a bed and things…”

“Tomorrow…,” you said quietly, shushing him gently.

Maybe the universe had intended for you to find her.  Maybe Valerie was meant to be your daughter, because the second you had seen her, you’d known that you’d do anything to protect her.

Just like your mother had done for you.

She was still teaching you things even now.

There was a certain feeling lingering in the air.  It was the exact opposite of what you always felt at the end of a battle.

The smell of baby shampoo.  The sound of her soft snores.  Bucky’s head resting against your shoulder.

The both of you needed to shower, but you didn’t care.  It could wait just a little bit longer.

Your eyes felt hot as you caressed the little girl’s cheek, swallowing around the lump in her throat.  “I’ll love you forever.  I’ll like you for always.  As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.”

[fancifulwhump]

so, the bad news is, i’ve fallen completely in love with a show about a band full of ghost boys??  julie and the phantoms is such a fun show  ---  the characters are incredible, the music is brilliant, and it has some unexpected whumpy gem moments, too!!   

this idea has been a worm in my brain since the first episode   ;   basically, the band has a habit of eating questionable food from alleys and out of the back of trucks, which comes back to bite them big time.    i figured, there’s no way that’s the first time they’ve ever gotten food poisoning... so, this fic was born.   i really had to get it out of my system, y’all.

if anyone wants more j.atp whump content in the future, i’ll happily provide!

a case of food poisoning  :  reggie, alex, luke, and bobby  /  j.atp   ;    6000+ words     ( nausea, vomiting, emeto )

Things don’t start feeling weird — for Reggie, at least — until they’re all piled into Bobby’s beat-up van, on their way back from a gig.

Those tacos aren’t sitting right. That’s all he can think, because they really haven’t settled since they went down. It’s been an hour since the four of them crowded around that alleyway food truck, shelling out a fraction of their latest pay for the nearest thing that could be called dinner. No one’s accusing street food of being gourmet... but for four kids living on band wages, plus what little Bobby and Alex made from their part-time jobs, it’s a godsend. Cheap, tasty, and usually not poisonous. Who could ask for anything more?

Tacos have always been Reggie’s favorite... but as the van rattles down the road, jostling its occupants with every pothole, he’s starting to regret going in for that second helping. Or the third.

Or, let’s be honest, the fourth. The fourth might’ve done him in.

Still, he shouldn’t be feeling like this. His friends tease him all the time — for such a skinny guy, Reggie can finish a whole pizza by himself, and put away a steak in under five minutes. It’s a talent, really. He’s always been able to eat without having to worry about the consequences — eating itself is its own pleasure, when dinners at home consist of “whatever’s left over” way too frequently. He doesn’t really... get full.

The longer the tacos sit inside of him, though, the heavier he feels. His stomach is tight against his belt, swelling out slightly beneath his dark t-shirt. If unbuttoning his pants were an option, he’d probably do it, just to have some room to breathe. Doing it here isn’t an option, though — not with Luke pressed up next to him, and Bobby and Alex in the front seats. He’d elbow his best friend in the face if he tried, and probably be noticed before then.

Reggie’s just got to grin and bear it... at least, until they get back to the studio.

“Great work tonight, boys,” Luke declares, leaning towards the front of the van. An arm suddenly loops around Reggie’s shoulders. The impact jars him, sending his stomach into a split-second free fall. If Luke notices the uncharacteristic tension in Reggie’s shoulders, he doesn’t let on, doesn’t even look at him. “I can hear record agents knocking on our door already!”

“You mean, the door to Bobby’s garage, where we all basically live?” Alex replies. “Wow, yeah. They’re going to be impressed.”

“Who gave them our address?” Bobby adds from behind the wheel. “They better not show up on Tuesday, my mom hosts crochet club.”

Luke’s shoulders shake; his smile is so bright, it’s practically luminescent in the dark. Reggie gets sucked into it for a moment before catching himself staring. With a thick swallow, he turns his head away. How can Luke have so much energy, when Reggie feels like he’s been hung out to dry? (Maybe off the back of a pick-up truck, and run over a few times for good measure.)

But silence isn’t like him, and of course Luke notices. He sends an elbow into his ribs — not enough to hurt, but an unpleasant gurgle ripples through his full stomach anyways. Reggie can’t help the arm that comes up to cradle his gut, or the way he hunches over, despite that only making the pressure worse. Anyone looking at him could tell something’s off — and with that realization, can’t worry them, can’t be a downer — he turns with a bright, forced grin.

“Just thinking about how on fire we were! Did you see those babes at the front table? They were checking me out the entire show, I’m telling you.”

Luke chuckles. That’s more like him, and it pushes any suspicion firmly off his shoulders. Able to breathe a sigh of relief, Reggie slowly eases himself back. It does feel a little better to be sitting — and looks less weird, too, even when a hand comes up to massage his stomach.

Yeah, he’s definitely bloated. His gut gurgles uncomfortably beneath his palm, loud enough to fill the rest of the car — but with the radio blasting, it’s mostly drowned out.  The longer he sits back, the more the pressure in his stomach increases. He’s gone from feeling full to swollen. Even as he tries to massage the discomfort out, the heavy feeling only gets worse.

They hit another pothole, jostling the car. Reggie lurches forwards. Unwillingly, a loud burp slips past his lips.

“Dude,” Luke exclaims, smacking him on the back.

“Really, Reggie? In my car?” says Bobby from the front.

Blindsided, Reggie shrinks back in his seat, pressing a fist to his lips. His face feels hot. Actually, every part of him feels hot; suddenly, his trademark leather jacket is heavy, oppressive instead of familiar. His t-shirt clings to his skin — when did he start sweating? — and all the added sensation does absolutely nothing to soothe his swollen stomach. There’s no reason to be embarrassed with his friends, his band, but…

Talk about not sitting right. That burp came out of nowhere, taking him from full to queasy.

“Sorry,” Reggie mutters, too low for anyone else to hear. One hand comes up to cup his stomach again — gently this time, just in case. His stomach flips, and he can’t help wincing. It’s useless to put up any mask, no more pretense that he’s feeling fine… anyone who looks his way could definitely tell something’s up.

Thankfully, his friends aren’t looking. Bobby’s focused on the road, while Luke’s busy chattering to the front seats. Alex’s eyes are closed, forehead pressed against the glass window; no matter how the van rattles, it doesn’t jar him. Reggie admires his fortitude, because every time they hit a pothole, his stomach leaps into his throat.

Maybe… maybe something was wrong with those tacos. The thought occurs to him like a revelation — one of those awful ones you don’t really want to consider, so you put off ‘til the last minute, like we have a pop quiz in calculus today, or that mole probably isn’t normal. There’s just no way all this churning in his gut is just from indigestion, though. Unease nags at him, the heady flavor of the tacos still lingering in his mouth. They haven’t ever tasted like that before.

To be fair, it’s street food. What do you expect? Of course it’s going to taste a little gnarly.

But the tacos — just thinking of them makes his stomach lurch. A low gurgle ripples through his core, and Reggie hunches in on himself, both arms around his stomach. By turning towards the window, he’s able to create a barrier between himself and the rest of the car. No one needs to see the way he’s sweating, or clutching his belly like it’s on fire. No one needs to worry about him.

Another burp forces its way up his throat. Reggie swallows it back, leaning his head against the cool glass window, and just tries to rest.

It’s no use. The longer he puts it off, the more the nausea grows. His stomach does cartwheels with every bump in the road. There are a few scary moments where he’s sure he’ll have to shout for Bobby to pull over… but they pass, and Reggie is left a little paler than before, breathing a little heavier.

By the time they pull into Bobby’s driveway, he could almost cry with relief.

Luke is the first one out, smacking Reggie’s shoulder again on the way out the door. Alex follows at a more sedate pace; his energy always lags late at night, but something about the way he’s moving seems weird. Off somehow… careful. Reggie’s so focused on watching Alex’s stiff descent from the car, that he doesn’t even realize he hasn’t moved at all… until a sudden rap on the window startled him.

Bobby’s peering in at him through the dirty glass. Sheepish, Reggie opens the door, and slides out of the van.

As soon as he’s standing, his stomach protests. A wave of nausea rolls through him, serenaded by another angry gurgle. There’s no missing this one, and no distraction from it. Reggie slumps against the van door with a breathless huff; immediately, Bobby’s at his side, gripping his forearm to keep him upright.

“Whoa, dude — you look awful.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” Reggie grits out. “You’re gorgeous as ever.”

Actually, Bobby looks… serious. Dead serious, even more than usual. His eyes are pitch black, taking in Reggie from head to toe; when his brows furrow, he looks worried, but not surprised.

“Don’t tell me,” he says. “It’s your stomach?”

If Reggie opens his mouth, he seriously might hurl; his only reply is a stiff nod.

“Shit.” Bobby drags a hand through his hair, then slams it against the driver’s window. Reggie watches, with a distant sort of fascination, as he walks a full circle around the side of the car, shaking his head. “I knew something was up. Those tacos tasted weird from the start.”

“Maybe we should’ve listened to Luke and gone with street dogs.” Reggie lurches, a sudden hiccup surprising him: hastily, he presses a hand over his mouth, avoiding Bobby’s gaze.

“Alex’s stomach was grumbling like crazy in the car — I could hear it over the music. Over Luke.” When Bobby looks back, his lips are pressed in a grim line. “And I’m not feeling so hot either, man.”

“Great,” mutters Reggie, shaking his head. “Just fantastic.”

Figures, they’d all get hit with something gnarly at the same time — Sunset Curve is a brotherhood, after all. Even if that means puking their guts out in the same tiny garage bathroom —

Well, okay, Bobby lives here. He’s got a whole house, and a bathroom all to himself. Lucky dude.

Reggie doesn’t realize he’s started swaying until Bobby’s suddenly right beside him, instead of a few feet away. This close, Reggie can tell his friend’s a shade paler than normal… but it would be easy to write off, with how concerned Bobby looks. Concerned over what? Over him? Reggie tries to straighten up, but a sudden cramp of his stomach convinces him that’s not a good idea.

“Come on, man,” Bobby says quietly. “Let’s get inside. You need to lie down or something.”

“I need to —“ Reggie cuts himself off with a deep, queasy belch. A fist flies to his mouth automatically; he can’t help moaning. “Shit. Sorry, that’s — gross. I feel really gross. Really weird, Bobby.”

“I know, man.” Bobby tucks an arm around his shoulders; Reggie’s grateful, because suddenly, he’s not sure he could walk on his own. As he slumps into his bandmate, Bobby takes on most of his weight without even a murmur. “I’ve got you. Come on.”

They make it into the garage without incident. It’s no surprise to find Luke and Alex already settled in — as settled as Luke can get after a show, anyways. He rides the adrenaline of a great show until the very end, and can never rest until it’s all burnt out. Usually this means finding him passed out somewhere that isn’t the air mattress, and waking up with a crick in his back the next morning… but Luke is Luke, and he never changes.

Alex is curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow; his head lolls, distant gaze focused on a crack in the wall. Luke, on the other hand, is a ball of energy. He hops around the studio on the balls of his feet, deftly avoiding stray wires and lumps in the carpet. He’s got his songbook in one hand, and a guitar pick in the other. 

“That riff in the middle of Get Lost — where’d you even come up with that, Bobby, it was genius! And, and Alex, when the rhythm picked up —“

“I thought I was a little off in the first number.” Even Alex’s voice sounds listless.

“No, man, you were great.” Luke pauses just long enough to rub a hand over his face, bouncing on his heels like a boxer in the ring. When he drags his hand back through his hair, Reggie notices a sheen of sweat on his brow. The garage is actually pretty chilly in mid-January; there’s no good excuse.

Bobby leads him over to the couch, and Reggie practically collapses onto it. When Alex turns, his dull eyes spark to life with alarm. “God, Reg,” he hisses, immediately pressing a hand to his clammy forehead. “You look like a wreck!”

“We’ve got a problem,” Bobby tells him. 

Alex meets his gaze, and understanding dawns. His face falls, eyes going wide.

Reggie can only contribute a hiccup. 

“Oh, come on,” Alex mutters, pulling his pillow tighter against his stomach. “We had to get food out of a shady cart, couldn’t just stop at a diner or something…”

“The cart was, like, right there.”

“Yeah, sitting there suspiciously!”

A loud, long gurgle emanates from Alex’s side of the couch — yeah, okay, Reggie definitely heard that one. He hunches forward, grimacing; whatever color the revelation leant to his face, it just as quickly drains away.

“Boys,” says Luke, suddenly sounding uneasy. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“There’s no point blaming anyone,” Reggie insists, looking between Alex and Bobby. “Except the guy who sold us the tacos, right?”

“I don’t think we can sue, Reg,” says Bobby.

“He shouldn’t be in business selling stuff that’s literally poisoning people,” insists Alex, burying his face in both hands. “We can definitely report him. That’s got to be an option, right?”

“Oh, sure. If we all make it through the night.”

“You guys…” Luke cuts in again, and there’s a tremor to his voice. 

Finally, Reggie looks up — just in time to see the last bit of color drain from Luke’s cheeks. He’s left chalk-white, a stricken look on his face, caught somewhere between uncertainty and fear. Slowly, a hand drifts to his stomach. “Um,” he says, and sways a little. “You guys don’t —“

He doesn’t get the chance to finish. An indescribable sound bursts out of him  —  less a gag, more like choking on his own stomach. Luke lurches forward, a hand clamped to his mouth.

“Shit,” Bobby exclaims, springing to his feet. “Oh, shit!”

Luke stumbles back, waving Bobby off with one hand. The other remains clasped against his lips, holding whatever it can back; for a moment, Luke just sways, eyes squeezing shut as his stomach continues to moan and roil. Each breath comes heavy through his nose; each exhale is perilous. When he finally straightens back up, he’s gone completely colorless, a sheen of sweat on his brow.

“Ah, man,” he mutters, trembling.

Alex is on his feet now too, and takes a cautious step forward. “Luke,” he says softly. “You okay?”

“I was… a minute ago, I was —“ Luke cuts himself off, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth again. He swallows something back, then shakes his head. “I’m okay. Gonna be okay.”

Somehow, this isn’t convincing. Alex hesitates, arm still outstretched. “Are you sure?”

Luke opens his mouth to reply; instead, he lurches forward with a strangled noise, and a rush of vomit spills down his shirt.

“Shit!” Bobby exclaims again, emphasizing each syllable.

Luke’s last wave of energy hits him all at once. Suddenly, he’s sprinting; he clears the coffee table like a track-and-fielder in the Olympics, leaps clean over stacks of boxes and duffle bags, before vanishing into the bathroom. The door slams shut being him.

This doesn’t matter; the walls are like paper here. They can still hear the gagging, the cursing, the whimpers — even without the privilege of seeing it.

“Well,” Alex says, glancing between his remaining bandmates with a grim smile. “Looks like we’re in for a fun night.”

From inside the bathroom, a long moan agrees with him.

----------

It’s around midnight by the time Reggie finally loses his dinner. By then, Bobby has retreated to the privacy of his house. Luke is firmly camped out in the bathroom, with no signs of dragging himself out any time soon. Reggie ends up stumbling outside, on his hands and knees in the patch of dirt behind the old garage building; it’s hardly the classiest place to do it, but he can’t just march up to Bobby’s front door, push past his parents, and hurl all over their new porcelain flooring.

Alex lingers nearby, shivering in the chilly night air. He rubs Reggie’s back through the worst of it, muttering the same soothing platitudes all moms like to whip out when their kids are sick; Reggie murmurs something along those lines around a mouthful of acid, and isn’t surprised when Alex cuffs him in the head.

“If I’m your mom, you were an accident.”

Reggie snorts, scrubbing tear-stained cheeks with his flannel’s sleeve. “Pretty sure I actually was.”

Probably too dark, but Alex doesn’t say so; he just helps Reggie stand, a reassuringly steady presence when Reggie can barely find his own feet. Together, they make their way back inside the garage. From the bathroom, Luke’s suffering is still ringing out in vivid technicolor — Reggie’s learned curses tonight his dad doesn’t even know. Alex’s worried gaze flickers across the studio as another moan rings out; he lowers Reggie onto the couch, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, before pulling away.

“I gotta go check on Luke.”

Reggie tracks his friend’s movements across the garage, not missing the way Alex stumbles across his own feet. Now that he’s not supporting anyone else’s weight, it’s obvious what a task it is to carry his own. He’s ghost pale, still shivering despite having come in from the cold, half-shrunken into his baggy hoodie. His brows are drawn tight together, the way they tend to when he’s fighting off a wave of worry… but it’s clearly more than that, given the shadow of queasiness haunting his face. He looks like he’s about to fall over… and if he does, he’s screwed, because Reggie doesn’t have the strength to go over there and pick him up.

“You need to rest, Alex,” he says, uncharacteristically solemn.

Alex glances back at him; there’s no life in his dull eyes, no gleam of fondness or frustration. He only looks exhausted.

“I don’t think any of us are getting much rest tonight,” he replies. When his lips twist, it can barely be called a smile. “Try to get some yourself, Reg. It’ll help.”

To his credit, Reggie tries. He leans back against the couch, letting his eyes drift shut. A low knock rings out, followed by Luke’s answering moan; Alex cracks the door open and mutters something too low for Reggie to hear. There’s quiet for a moment, then the sound of another gag. The bathroom door clicks shut; Reggie doesn’t have the energy to look up to see whether Alex is in or out.

His own stomach, at the very least, doesn’t care. It gives a sudden twist, and a low snarling noise rings out; Reggie can feel it, like his stomach’s tying itself in knots inside of him, just expecting him to deal with it. The pain is another thing — probably the worst thing, if the nausea wasn’t so overwhelming. It comes in waves, but when it comes — well —

He’s left doubled in on himself, breath coming in short gasps as he clutches his stomach with both hands. It’s all he can do to breathe; each cramp spasms through him, making his body distort and gut groan with fury. Reggie groans too, from the agony of it all — and the realization that, even having just ditched the remains of the tacos outside, they're not finished with him yet.

What could he have left to throw up? Jesus, it felt like he was coughing up his soul out there.

“I’m okay, I can walk on my own — geez, Alex, really. Don’t…”

“You think I want to get close to you? You smell like something died.”

Luke’s voice is hoarser than the time he blew it out practicing for the school talent show, but he manages a chuckle anyway. “So you wouldn’t kiss me if I asked?”

Alex snorts too. “Not even if you paid me.”

Reggie can’t see them, but he can imagine Luke’s careful, wobbling steps — the way he holds himself up by stubbornness alone, one arm still looped around his stomach. Alex lingers at his side the way he always does, ready to help the second it’s needed… only when the chair springs creak, and Luke lets out a low sigh, does Alex finally let himself sit down as well.

“That took everything outta me,” Luke mutters, voice muffled by the hands pressed to his face, “Literally. I feel dizzy, man.”

“Drink some water.” 

“No way, my stomach…”

“Luke, you need to. You just hurled up all the water in your body.”

“It’s not gonna stay down.”

“Then it comes up. At least it’s something.”

There’s a long moment of silence before a water bottle crackles in Luke’s unsteady grip. He takes a few shallow gulps before setting it aside; leaning his head back, he brings one hand to his stomach, where it hovers uncertainly for a moment. “Okay,” he finally says, and gives a weak hiccup. “I think — I think we’re good.”

“Okay.” Alex heaves a heavy sigh, and settles back, finally. 

For a little while, there’s only silence. Luke’s allowed his eyes to shut, while Alex has slumped against the side of the chair, head pillowed on his arm. They’re all drifting. Every few minutes, the quiet will be broken by someone’s stomach gurgling, or an uncomfortable huff, but for the most part… no one dares break the tenuous peace that’s settled over the garage.

At least, not until his stomach seizes up with another cramp, and Reggie can’t help whimpering.

Alex stirs. His eyes are glassy, face colorless. “Reg?” he mutters. “What’s — what’s wrong?”

Except it’s far beyond Reggie’s ability to answer at this point; the pain is too great to even try. He just curls in on himself, clawing at his stomach with both hands as if that alone can stop the pain. It convulses once, and he sees red; his entire body is on fire, burning him up from the inside out, and he can’t take it anymore, he really can’t…

“Hurts,” he gasps, and a moan follows when another cramp rips through him. “Hurts so bad…”

Alex stares at him for a long moment, as if he can’t comprehend what he’s seeing. At what point it sets in, it's impossible to say… but suddenly he’s pushing himself up on unsteady legs, gripping the side of the chair for balance.

Reggie’s eyes widen at the way he sways. For half a second, his own pain is forgotten. “Alex, you —“

Alex just waves him off. Instead of stumbling towards Reggie, he turns on his heel — making his way back, instead, to the mini-fridge plugged in at the back of the room. Another cramp momentarily blinds Reggie, forcing him to curl back in on himself. He can’t follow Alex’s journey, or even worry whether he’ll make it there in one piece. By the time the pain grows dull again, Alex is shuffling back towards him, a fresh water bottle in hand.

“Dude,” Reggie groans. “I can’t. I’ll die.”

“You have to, Reg.” Alex’s voice is small, between labored breaths. “There’s nothing — nothing in your stomach. It’ll help the pain.”

“You don’t know that, it could make it worse —“

“Reggie.” Alex is right by his side now, bent low to look at him… and his eyes are gentle. Soft in that classic Alex way, the trust me way, the it’s going to be okay, I promise way. He’s always the same — always means so well — and he’d do anything for anybody else, if it just meant they didn’t have to suffer. 

Forget mom; sometimes, Reggie looks at Alex and thinks, “Yeah, this is what a big brother’s supposed to be.” Of course, Alex would know. He has a little sister he’s not even allowed to see anymore, not since his parents kicked him out. That’s got to kill him every day... Reggie can’t even imagine.

One thing’s for sure: he trusts Alex more than anyone else in the world (except the rest of the band).

He’d trust him with his life.

And, as Reggie takes the water bottle with shaking hands, he feels like he’s doing exactly that.

One sip goes down, then another — and he’s so thirsty that Alex has to gently guide the bottle away from his lips after the fourth gulp, reminding him not to overdo it. Reggie answers with a sick burp, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. For a moment they wait, anticipation heavy as a curtain over them both… but nothing happens. The water stays down, and by some miracle, Reggie’s stomach doesn’t cramp up again.

He’s too caught up in his own relief. Reggie doesn’t even notice Alex making his way back across the room — until a sudden noise, a wet gurgle, jars his attention up. 

Alex is braced against the ladder leading up to the loft; he’s stopped there, because he can’t take another step. Head bent, his entire body shudders with a suppressed gag; as he chokes on it, the muscles in his arm strain with the force of holding him up. Something gurgles in his throat again, and he lurches forward, nearly hitting his knees on the concrete floor.

“Oh, man,” Reggie mutters, right before Alex loses it.

All over the floor.

Bobby’s gonna kill them, if the food poisoning doesn’t first.

--------------------

They’re all sick, and they’re tired, and then they’re sick again… the cycle becomes predictable after a while. Reggie can’t say how many hours pass, or exactly how many times he has to sprint for the bathroom — only that he’s exhausted by the time dawn begins to break through the garage windows. 

Maybe Reggie dozes for a while... it’s hard to tell. Getting any rest is its own fever dream, when his stomach’s in knots, sending bolts of pain shooting through him every few minutes. Distantly, he hears himself groaning, feels his arms wrap around his own stomach tighter, but he’s too exhausted to care.

He does feel it when another body settles in beside him — feels it clear as day, when a pressure against his spine forces him to ease back, and a set of hands pawing at his middle breaks his vice grip.

“Easy, Reg,” a very familiar voice murmurs, just over his shoulder. “Try to relax a bit.”

“Hurts...” Reggie manages, before another brutal cramp ricochets through his core, sending him curling in on himself all over again. His companion won’t have it, though. They force him to settle, easing him back against their shoulder... and the next thing Reggie knows, there’s a hand on his stomach, pressing into the worst of the pain.

At first, he groans; then, he sighs. It feels good, better than he dared hope for — finally, pressure against the worst cramps, easing them out before they can ripple through him completely. His stomach gives a wet, angry growl, and he can’t help whimpering as it turns over on itself... but the person at his back hushes him. A hand runs through his sweat-damp hair, trimmed fingernails grazing his scalp, and Reggie’s brain almost whites out at how good the tiny bit of comfort feels.

“You need your strength, okay? So you’ve gotta rest.” A pause, and then, from a distance, “He’s really getting hit hard, guys. I think he might have a fever, too.”

“He ate more than us,” someone else says.

“Man, he looks rough...” That sympathetic tone is definitely Luke.

When he forces his eyes open, after what seems like ages, Reggie finds himself surrounded by familiar faces. Their assessment isn’t really fair — none of the boys are looking great tonight. Luke, curled up on the floor, has slumped against the beanbag chair rather than sitting in it. Wisely, he’s lost his ruined shirt; now he sits hunched forward, both arms around his churning stomach. Every now and then, he’ll wince, and breathe out slowly; when his shoulders jolt with a spare hiccup, he presses his lips together until they turn white. Alex, having commandeered the other chair, looks completely washed out. There’s no color in his face, gone gray like sour milk; he’s got a bucket in his lap, wrapped tightly around it, and though he hiccups every so often, doesn’t seem like he’s had to use it. It takes Reggie a moment to realize that whoever’s got his head cradled in their lap smells like cheap mall cologne, and that the hands are calloused in the exact same places Bobby’s are. A low gurgle emanates from close to his ear, drawing his gaze up. Bobby wears a grimace of discomfort, his face nearly as pale as Alex’s... but when he notices Reggie coherent, he looks down, and smiles.

“Hey, man. How you feeling?”

“N- never better.” Reggie tries to return the gesture, but a curdle of his stomach eagerly contradicts him. 

“You’re gonna be fine, okay?” Bobby’s hand runs through his hair again; Reggie’s eyes flutter without his consent. “We've just got to get through the worst of it.”

“Everybody’s sick…” As his brows slowly draw together, Reggie’s attention flickers around the rest of the group. “How’re you guys doing? Alex…”

Alex shakes his head, muffling a hiccup into his fist. “I’m fine, Reg. Don’t even worry.”

“Yeah, we’re breezing through this.” Luke tried to offer him an “ok” gesture — but another cramp sends him leaning back against the chair, one hand pressing hard against his stomach. His face contorts in pain, and Reggie has to turn away, burying his face against Bobby’s leg.

It takes him a moment to find any kind of humor in this situation at all… but, being Reggie, that’s just his way. His shoulders shake with a weak chuckle. “Guess this is… the last time we go for street tacos, huh?”

Alex groans. “Not likely. I’m pretty sure we’re gonna keep eating street food until we make it big, or they literally kill us.”

Reggie scoffs. “Food poisoning’s not gonna take us out.”

“Really? Cause I feel like I’m dying.”

“If we were dying, trust me —“ Luke’s stomach gurgles, tensing his entire body up. “We’d know.”

Even something as simple as talking drains him. Reggie lets his eyes drift shut again, relishing the warmth of Bobby’s lap, and the solidness of his presence. It’s great to have Bobby back. Out of all of them, he’s clearly been hit the lightest… thank god someone’s still standing, otherwise they all might really be down for the count.

When his stomach gurgles again, Reggie tenses up. He jolts with a hiccup, then a tiny moan. As his hands curl into fists, ragged fingernails dig into his palms; he relishes the small amount of pain as a distraction from the overwhelming lion’s share.

“My stomach hurts so bad,” he murmurs. Bobby continues to stroke his head, even as Reggie goes progressively more tense. With his next exhale, a splash of something acidic rushes up his throat. He lurches, and tries to swallow it — but it’s in his nose, he can’t breathe, and the next shudder only brings more of it up. A hand clamps over his mouth as he scrambles into a sitting position, but he only makes it halfway. Utterly drained, he collapses sideways once again, falling in Bobby’s lap as his mouth floods with sick.

There’s only time for Bobby to direct him forward. Reggie lurches over his knees, vomit already spilling past his lips. Rather than hit the floor — or worse, Bobby’s shoes — the bucket is there waiting for him. 

As soon as Reggie gets a hold on the bucket, he doubles forward, practically wrapping himself around it. It rips through every muscle, every nerve. Mouthfuls of acid and bile are forced up with every heave, from the deepest part of his stomach. Reggie shudders. He belches up a splash of something nasty, enduring a spare gag as it ripples through him. When he’s finally able to catch his breath, he knows, just knows, every eye is on him.

“I hate this,” he pants, slowly lifting his head. “This is literally — huUurp — the worst.”

“That sure was,” Luke mutters; based on his offended yelp a second later, someone probably threw a water bottle at him.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Bobby says again, massaging gentle circles into his back. Alex’s calloused band sweeps across his forehead, brushing back Reggie’s unruly hair. Sweat plasters raven strands to his forehead, but with the gentle pressure of his friend’s hand, a bit of the pain goes with it.

“Yeah,” Alex says after a moment. “He’s definitely got a fever. Should we… be concerned?”

“I don’t know.” Bobby’s voice is hoarse, though that could be from worry or a night spent hurling his guts up — hard to say. “He was keeping water down for a little while, but… if he gets any worse, we might have to take him to the —“

“No hospital!”

It’s the most energy Reggie has had all night, and just about scares the hell out of his friends. His hand suddenly lashes up to grip Bobby’s shoulder in a vice grip; when he lifts his head, his eyes are very wide, very earnest. “Hospital isn’t gonna help. It… costs too much money.”

His parents are already fighting over the bills 24/7 — fighting over everything, fighting over him. The last thing Reggie needs it to give them a reason. He won’t do that, he won’t —

“No hospital,” he says again, and Alex hastily nods.

“Okay, Reg. You got it. No hospitals.”

He’s not sure whether to believe them, when he catches the wary glance Bobby and Alex exchange over his head… but Reggie is eager to chase away the horrible, anxious feeling, in exchange for the warm comfort of moments before. If he could just wrap himself up in that, instead of the thought of his parents screaming at each other over his hospital bed…

Yeah.

He’d like that a lot.

Just… safety, warmth, and quiet.

And maybe some water to wash this taste out of his mouth.

Alex scrambles to oblige him as soon as he asks. Reggie takes a swig, swishes it around in his mouth, and tentatively swallows it. The water settles — for now — which is the best he can ask for.

“I don’t want to be sick again,” he admits quietly, after a long moment of simply… laying there, staring back and forth.

Luke chuckles, dragging a hand through his hair. “Join the club.”

“I haven’t puked for a few hours now,” says Bobby. “I think… I might be done?”

Alex’s stomach lets out a loud gurgle, and he groans. “Ooh, I’m not.”

It wasn’t the worst night of his life, and that’s really saying something… but as the morning grows brighter, flooding the garage with sunlight, Reggie sighs and curls into his friend’s lap. Things could be worse. They could be a lot worse.

At least they’re walking through hell holding hands. Whatever Sunset Curve does, they do together… and that includes food poisoning, apparently.

Reggie can live with that, if it means his friends are with him through it all.

(His fever doesn’t break until that afternoon, and Reggie can still taste rancid taco meat a week later. The band takes days to recover completely. If they could say the experience turned them off street food for life, they’d be better off for it.

A few months later, Reggie finishes the last of his hot dog, and has just enough time to think, that definitely tasted funny, before his stomach twists.

Some people really never learn.)

[aesthbaby]

Because I Love You

Summary: Angst/comfort story. Check out the request for an actual summary

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x gender neutral reader

Request: This one

Warnings: Cursing | fighting

Word count: 2k

Masterlist

She didn’t come home.

She left you a voicemail saying she was sorry but she didn’t come home.

Rationally, you called Penelope and she didn’t really tell you much except that this case really got to Emily. She didn’t say anything on the jet back but everyone knew it really got to her. They had a rule, never take your work home with you. After everything that’s happened with Morgan, Hotch, and JJ the team had made a promise to never take your work home with you. You and Emily don’t have children like they do but it was the same principle, the best way to keep their loved ones safe is to keep them away from their work. You didn’t know that was a rule they made; all you knew was the Emily hardly ever talked about her job and just chalked it up to her being closed off.

You had to hear about the rule from Penelope when you called her all flustered and worried. Apparently Em stayed later than everyone to finish her reports but since she was silent throughout the whole thing everyone was worried. Penelope volunteered to stay behind and keep an eye on her but eventually Emily convinced her she was fine.

So when you called and asked where your girlfriend was, she didn’t know what to say. 

“Emily, baby, please pick up. I know you’re not okay, I mean I know you’re physically fine. I didn’t ask Pen to ping your phone because I know that’s an invasion of privacy but don’t underestimate me Emily Prentiss.”

That’s the 6th voice mail you’ve left for her and now its two in the morning. You’re on the couch eating Twizzlers (mostly just chewing on them because it calms your nerves) while some trashy reality show is playing in the background. When you first moved in together you couldn’t sleep without her next to you. It took some time for you to get used to the empty space in your bed and being woken up by her crawling into bed at late hours. She would snuggle herself under your arm and just listen to your heartbeat after a long day. She always thought you were asleep so you’d play along while she would tell you about her day. Its the most vulnerable she’ll let herself be; although you’d prefer it if she talked to you awake, you’ll take what you can get. Just when it felt like you were settling into a routine, she up and does this. You’d finally gotten her to agree to do an emotion chart with you. As ridiculous as it sounds it was something you used to write in your bullet journal years ago, you bought Emily one so she could do the same. She resisted at first but now she likes doing it (but she’d never admit that). Writing her emotions down has helped her be more open with you.

“I’m sorry y/n but the last time I saw Emily was on my way out of the bullpen, hours ago.” JJ sleepily tells you over the phone. “But I’m sure she’s fine, probably just needed some space after today.”

“Right...well, sorry for waking you up JJ.”

“Oh no, don’t worry its fine. I’m still finishing up some paper work for Henry’s new school. Who knew getting into a private school would take so much work out of you?” She laughs.

“The uhm...The Merit School?” I doubt I’d ever send my child to a school THAT expensive but who knows.

“Yeah, its going to cost us an arm and a leg but its a really great school.”

“I wish you guys the best of luck, and I’m sorry for bothering you so late.”

“Anytime,” Right when you’re about to hang up you hear her call your name. “Take care of Emily for me--for all of us.”

“I will JJ.”

Then you texted Garcia but never hit send because you already feel bad for bugging her earlier.

So you bothered Reid instead. You two have never been close but you do bond over vintage movies every now and then. You practically beg him to break this rule the BAU team has put into effect. The doctor was hesitant to tell you anything but eventually he did after rambling on about something that didn’t make any sense he gave you a brief summary on why he thinks this case may be hitting Emily so hard. “The unsub was the lieutenant for the local cartel who had been killing off his lovers. Those being undercover detectives who he would nicknames his wives. They would have to feign loyalty to him no matter what he did and by the time we arrived he had already executed three of them.”

“Why did he kill them?” You ask not really wanting to know the answer.

“There was a mole in the department. When he found out about them he...uhm...”

“Its okay Spencer, I get it.”

After a moment of silence he says, “Emily’s going to come home to you y/n. She loves you, we can all see it.”

“Thank you Spencer.”

Your concern is slowly morphing into frustration. How could she do this? She knows how worried I get if she simply leaves me on read. If I did something like this, Emily would have my head! Oh and what happened to aLwAyS teLLiNg eAcH oTheR tHe TrUtH?? Guess that doesn’t apply to her huh.

You get up to take a shower but instead you run smack dead into the coffee table. You’ve got to be fu- 

“Oh hi Sergio.” The black cat dances around your legs. I think this cat senses my impending anxiety. “At least you’re here, your  mommy is going to be in trouble when I see her.”

Where the hell are you Emily Prentiss? And like magic you hear the door unlock and open. I’m going to kill her. No no, I am going to give her a stern talking to. You know what? I don’t even feel like arguing--actually I do. “Sergio, hold me back.” Y/n, breathe, you need to empathize and sympathize with her. Or else this could get real ugly, real fast.

So, you sit down in the plush arm chair you begged Emily for when you first got here. She thinks its ugly but eventually she stopped trying to fight you. “Emily. Elizabeth. Prentiss.” You pronunciate each word slowly.

And there she is, white button up shirt tucked into her hundred dollar Express slacks with a double breasted blazer over the whole thing. My baby looks good but I will show no mercy for this behavior. “Hey.” She says casually, like she hasn’t been MIA for hours. “I brought Pad Thai.” She dangles the brown bag while locking all the locks on the door. A total of four, five if you count the alarm system. She goes straight for the kitchen without looking your way. No doubt that’s suspicious. “I couldn’t decide between cheese rangoons or egg rolls so I got us both.” You hear the fridge open and close but you still haven’t seen your girlfriend’s face. “Sorry for not picking up earlier. I needed time to get my head together.”

“Emily.” You almost growl the name. “Please, come and sit down.”

“You know at first I thought I’d get something from that fancy Slovakian place you like but then I remembered how sick I got last time.” She walks straight past you without a glance, into your shared bedroom.

This is unbelievable. “If I have to call your name one more time, Emily there will be hell to pay.” That seems to get her attention. She walks back into the living room but her back is to you and her head is low. Emily’s head never hangs low. “Look at me, Em.” When you’re met with nothing you stand, “Meet me half way Emily. Look me in the eyes.” You walk up to her and gently turn her by her shoulder. Her eyes have a sheer layer of pink over them, she’s not crying but she wants to. “Em...” You let out a brief sigh.

She walks out from under your grasp and heads toward the kitchen again. “Y/n...can we just go to bed? Eat trashy Chinese food like we always do and watch, I don’t know? The Bachelor?”

“You hate that show.”

“I know...”

“But you need something to take your mind off of today...” You nod, you know her too well. She’s silent in that moment. “Em I know this is about Ian Doyle.” Her eyes shoot up to yours. “Don’t be mad but I made Spencer tell me.” She turns to walk away but you grasp her hand, firmly. “You have no right to be upset about that Emily!” You and her hardly argue so the shout that came from your mouth was shocking. “I had to hear from your friend what was going on with you because you tell me nothing!” You’re in tears and it looks as if she feels some level of guilt. “Nothing Emily! I respect your privacy to the best of my abilities but this is where I draw the line.”

“Why do you care?” You look at her in complete disbelief. “Y/n why do you care so much?”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me?” You don’t curse much around her (away from her is a different story) so this is how she could tell when you’re really upset. “Are you serious Emily? Why can’t you just open your heart to me? Is it honestly that hard to sit down and have a decent conversation with me?”

“Y/n,” She pauses. “Why do you care about me? Why do you care about any of this?”

“Because I love you! Do you not understand that? I’m constantly worried about you and the main reason has nothing to do with your job. Its because you compartmentalize so well that it feels like I don’t even know you sometimes. I never know if you’re actually okay because you don’t tell me anything! Not knowing what you’re going through hurts like hell.”

“Y/n...Its not what you think. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Emily,” You take both of her hands in yours. “I’m not the one that’s hurt, you are. I know you don’t like to talk about him but baby if you keep this shit bottled up it will destroy you.” Her mouth opens and closes like she wants to say something but nothing comes out. “The victims reminded you of yourself, didn’t they?”

“What? No,” She tries to shrug off your question. “They were detectives. They were young, blonde, and sporty types. That’s not me.”

“They had to pretend to be in love with a drug lord.

“No...”

“They had to pledge allegiance to a man who didn’t think twice about killing them.”

“No.” She shakes her head.

“Someone from their own department exposed them and for that they were executed.”

“Stop!” She doesn’t shout. She doesn’t scream. Her voice is broken by the tears welling up in her eyes.

You lay your palm on her cheek and look deep into her brown eyes. “These women were betrayed by the people sworn to protect them. Their lives were taken by a man who called himself their lover.” She starts to cry a little more and you feel bad but this has to come out.

“Stop. Please.” She chokes.

You wrap her in your arms, with her head on your shoulder. “It could have been you...”

“It could have been me...” She repeats after a beat of silence.

“But it wasn’t you.” You just hold onto her until she pulls away.

“Y/n...I’m sorry.” She takes your other hand in hers. 

“Its okay.” You just hold your love like this is the last time you’ll ever meet. She deserves so much more than what this world has given her. She’s worth more than she’ll ever know. “He will never lay a hand on you ever again.”

She looks at you with the saddest eyes, it reminds you of the childhood pictures she’s shown you. “Never.”

“Never.” You repeat. You sniffle a little while wiping your eyes. “Now, did I hear you say you brought Cheese Rangoons?”

She laughs a little at that. “Yeah...about that...”

“What?” Your eyes narrow on her.

“There’s only one left.” You playfully punch her shoulder. “I ate like three in the car.” Its good to hear her laugh after the day she’s had.

“Its okay.” You grab the bag from the fridge and two bottles of water. “Now, you and I are going to eat in bed and talk about your day while Keeping up with the Kardashians plays in the background.”

“But I hate that show.” She wines.

You steal a quick kiss before heading to the bedroom. “I know, we’re just using it as background noise.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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@andreaxxg13​ 

[timextoxhajima]

Playlist Feels

*SHORT SERIES

Member: IT’S TIME FOR DOGS AND WOLVES LEE JUYEON

Genre: BIG ANGST + drama with chaebol/lawyer juyeon

Links to other parts:

I Never Wanna See You Again

Frustrated (light smut)

Love Somebody (light smut)

Play With Fire (smut)

Stigma

Bourbon

Highway To Heaven (smut)

I Like Me Better

~

“will you marry me?”

A/N: there’s a small time jump between the last chapter and this one, so just keep that in mind :)

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

you found yourself frowning aggressively and unable to concentrate on the new case that was given to you and chanhee, on the account that the lead lawyer, also known as your ceo, relieved chanhee of his duties as a lawyer when he told the both of you that it was a difficult case.

that was easily four months ago. 

you look up and you notice that there was nobody in the office who looked like they could concentrate even if they wanted to. your eyes naturally travel to lee jaehyun, and his face looked so strained. you could tell by his eyes that he had no idea what to do under these circumstances, and it was almost like everybody was thinking the same thing. 

your manager pops his head out of the office, looking into your ceo’s office as if he would ever make out anything from the vague shadows through the frosted glass. 

he rests his hands on his hips, and he sighs so hard, you were able to see his shoulders sag. rubbing the back of his neck with his palm, he turns to the crowd who was now staring at him.

“what?” he mouths to all of you, his brows furrowing at the top of his nose bridge. “don’t look at me, i don’t know what happened.” he whispers loudly, gesturing behind him to the ceo’s office.

as if on instinct, some heads turn to you when they realise even the ceo’s cousin doesn’t have a grasp on the situation. lee jaehyun looks behind you at the empty seat and glances at you. you catch the moment he makes the decision to break it to you and it makes you feel strangely uncomfortable.

“i think you need to go in and save your friend.”

you close your eyes, leaning back into the chair with your hands over each other on your stomach. thumb unconsciously fiddling with the ring on the middle finger of your right hand, you slip on your heels and stand up. 

chanhee had done a dumb thing and corrupted a bunch of files in the system due to a glitch, and frankly, if chanhee hadn’t decided opening an email from an unfamiliar account was a good idea, he wouldn’t have been summoned into the ceo’s office.

he’s been stuck in there for nearly an hour. 

you don’t really know the degree of security breach of the glitch, but the files that were corrupted were closed-case files, not ongoing ones. there was absolutely no reason for your boss to be so mad at chanhee, even if it were his fault. 

your manager watches you stride anxiously to the door of your ceo’s office where the loud talking had ceased just a few minutes before, and he does nothing but provide you a look of concern. 

your hand was just inches away from the glass surface when a shadow quickly nears the other side of the door, and chanhee pushes himself out the office.

he doesn’t look as bad as you thought he would be. though a little pale, you were still hooked up on the ceo’s tone with your friend who made a mistake that wouldn’t have made much of a difference even if they were lost. the lawyers in charge of the respective cases should have their own backups in their work devices anyway. with a little effort and time, it wouldn’t be difficult to restore the corrupted information.

“are you alright? what did he say to you?” you grab chanhee’s arm just as he was about to return to his cubicle. the office door clicks shut. 

“nothing,” he notices everybody stealing small glances at him, only eric and sunwoo making an effort to unfold the situation from your conversation. “i messed up and he’s just mad about it, that’s all. it’s fine, really.”

chanhee pats you on the arm and you loosen your hold on him, letting him go back to the case the both of you were in charge of. you were rooted to the ground right outside the office, and you could feel your breath getting heavier by the second. something in your head throbs and you can’t help but to feel protective over chanhee. 

he was the one who sheltered you and provided you small change here and there when you first ran away from home while your dumbass tried to become self-sustaining. 

you’ve also overheard of conversations between your parents or anybody else important about stolen or corrupted files and they’ve always seemed to get them fixed. if that wasn’t a problem, why should this?

you turn your head ninety degrees and lock eyes with your manager, hand in his hair, looking flustered. 

“do you want me to talk to him?” you ask, genuinely seeking his opinion.

he brings his hand to his mouth and drags his thumb and index finger down his cheeks, looking away for a moment as if to ponder about your simple question. “it might be something to do with his parents or the bureau,” your manager shakes his head slightly.

he doesn’t know either.

“i don’t know.”

you give him a little nod, taking a deep breath and knocking on the door.

“what?”

you could hear one soft gasp from behind you, and you could guess it was either eric or sunwoo. but the monotone response hits you in the gut, and you feel like you were just thrown four months back in time to when you first met him. 

“can i come in?”

silence. 

you take a step back when you notice movement in the office, and you hear a click that the door makes when it either locks or unlocks. you could only guess that was your cue to come in without him saying anything. 

you shoot your manager one last glance before pushing the door open, as if walking into a war zone. 

you wait for the door to click shut behind you, eyes scanning the man sitting in his big, leather seat, head leaned back. one arm was over his eyes, and his free hand was anxiously fiddling with the same ring you had on your hand. 

“am i allowed to know what happened?” you question with caution, talking small steps toward the seat opposite him at the desk. 

“don’t you already know?” his response was cold and he doesn’t move an inch.

“well...” you gather your hands on your lap, looking down at the white chiffon blouse you were wearing. “i don’t want to believe you were just yelling at chanhee because he corrupted closed-case files.”

silence.

there was something wrong, and it was beyond chanhee, but you couldn’t see it. 

“juyeon,” you sit up straight, resting the back of your forearms on the edge of the table and you fiddle with the ring. “if the closed-case files were the ones that got corrupted, all you need to do is check with the respective lawyers who worked on the case for their backups. they must’ve saved the final version in a separate folder besides the system.”

“are you saying that because you know or because you’re just speculating?”

a frown forms on your face at his tone and attitude, his side profile not offering you any hint of his facial expression, if he even had any. 

“i’m saying it because i’m pretty sure no lawyer in his or her right frame of mind isn’t going to have a backup document on their own work devices. everybody whom i’ve asked about this all have a habit of backing up the final version of the case file before uploading it to the system.”

silence. he stops fiddling with the ring, fingers frozen in place. he looks so still, you wonder if he’s dead.

“don’t you think you’re making a hill out of a mole? it’s not that big of a deal,” you cock your head to the side, trying to push him over an edge because he’s never going to be honest with you when he’s upset. 

if it’s anything you learnt from being with him, it’s that he’s either honest when he’s feeling soft, or he’s brutally honest. right now, your only option was the latter. 

“juyeon--”

“don’t--” he raises a finger, finally removing his arm to look at you with stone cold eyes. 

your head jerks backwards in slight surprise. 

who is this man and what has he done with your fiance?

“‘don’t’ what, juyeon?” you lean back in the seat and fold your arms across your chest. you feel your frown lines getting deeper in your forehead, and the way he rolls his eyes shoves you over an edge. 

“talk to me. there’s obviously something bothering you and i know you’re not going to say it if you’re like this.”

“like what?” his words were sharp, straightforward, harsh. 

“like... like that! mean and-- and apparently, brain-dead. i literally just explained to you why chanhee’s mistake was reversible while you spent an hour yelling at him.”

“i yelled at him because the files could’ve been stolen and what if someone messed with the documents?” he finally turns his chair and leans forward, fingers interlocked as he rests his arms on the desk. 

“you do realise we can find the source that email, right? so say that happens, we can always backtrack and figure out where the virus or corrupt code came from and work from there.”

“oh, so now you know exactly what to do when something like this arises?”

what the fuck--

“i probably don’t but it’s better than wasting an hour yelling at your employee over an innocent mistake!” you found yourself standing up, the blood in your veins boiling. 

no, calm down. maybe something huge happened at home and he’s just letting it get to him. he did it once four months ago, he could do it again. he’s not like you and he can’t compartmentalize his feelings like you.

you struggle to calm yourself, and his eyes scan you from head to toe like he was ready to cut you up into little pieces. it was a look you don’t really recognise, and it made you uncomfortable.

he abruptly gets out of his chair and walks around the desk toward you. you shut your eyes and repeatedly convince yourself to calm down. it wasn’t worth getting into a fight with him over such a silly thing, you said it yourself.

“juyeon, come on, talk to me.” 

he stops right next to you and he leans one hip against the desk, left hand flat against the table. you turn to look at him with concerned eyes, and naturally you reach up to him with an idea to touch his face.

but his grip stops you, and his eyes don’t flinch from the sudden movement. you could feel the anger and frustration emitting off him, and if it was possible, you could feel that same anger and frustration being transferred from him into you through his tight hold. 

“i’ll talk to you, but remember that i’m still your boss.”

you could hear a car honk outside his window as his cold eyes dug into yours. the words rolled off his tongue so easily, but you had difficulty processing them. 

“what?” you wanted to believe you didn’t just hear him say that to your face.

“i said...” his eyebrow twitches. “just because we’re screwing, doesn’t mean you get to tell me how to do my job.”

he’s shattered your heart a billion times before from his long speeches and apologies but all of them pale in comparison to this one. 

“excuse me?” you snatch your wrist away from him, a look of pure disgust written all over your face. you take a step back and you watch his face turn from stone-cold to threatening. 

he pushes himself off the table and shoves his hands into his pocket. his head was tilted upwards, and he glares at you with his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. 

“‘just because we’re screwing, doesn’t mean i get you tell you how to’-- you did not just say that.” you hiss angrily. all you were trying to do was to be nice and understanding to your fiance but he pulls the boss card on you?

“but i did, and i suggest you take it, especially if you want me to talk to you.”

“i’m not fucking taking anything you say! i came in here worrying about your fucking unreasonable ass because you never yell at anybody, and now you’ve god-done spent a whole hour yelling at chanhee when you could’ve spent it fixing the fucking problem!”

silence. 

his eyes have swords, knives and guns aimed at you. 

“so you’re in here because of chanhee?”

your mouth drops open in utter disbelief at the question.

“did you not hear a single word i just said?! was the only word you processed ‘chanhee’?!”

then it hit you. 

“oh my god, are you fucking pissed because i ditched dinner with you last week for an impromptu meal with chanhee?”

silence. 

you gasp as your hands fly up into your hair, pulling them back so far that you were sure you were going to mess it up.

“the hell’s wrong with you?! i literally see you everyfuckingday and i can’t have one meal with chanhee?!” you turn around and begin pacing up and down the office, hands running through your hair, desperate to believe that this argument wasn’t real. 

“why?” you squint your eyes at him, taking a bold step toward him. 

“is it because you don’t want your secret chaebol fiance to be seen with someone else that’s not you?” another bold step. 

“or are you too scared you’re going to lose me because you think you don’t have a fucking spine?” 

your nose was right under his, and you could feel his heavy breathing on your face. 

“after all that fucking talk about me being the only person who can help you improve yourself...” your fingers were searching for the ring on your right hand. “i guess that shit didn’t work.” you yank it off, sure that you probably left some mark on your skin. 

“i ran from my family because i couldn’t stand the way they treated me, and believe me, lee juyeon... i will run from you because i can’t stand the way you can’t discern between what’s reasonable and what’s not.”

you slam the ring down on the table and storm for the door, hand already wrapped around the metal handle.

“and just so you know,” you pause and look over your shoulder. “one phone call and i can be the one you need to call ‘boss’.”

the amount of strength you invested into pulling the door open causes the metal bar to slam against the wall inside his office. you ignore all the looks of shock and worry from your colleagues as you storm back to your desk. 

sweeping all the documents into your suitcase, you pull your coat off the chair and yank on chanhee’s. 

“pack your shit, we’re fucking leaving.” you look away from chanhee’s pale, terrified look and at eric and sunwoo.

“you’re welcome to follow me if you want to, but i’m not staying here another fucking second.”

you don’t bother about your manager coming out of his office upon the commotion, only making sure your friends were trailing behind you with their suitcases packed like they were in a rush. 

“go the fuck home, i’ll get all of you jobs that pay a fuckton more than this job does,” you pull out a phone and call for a cab.

“wait, but--”

“i’m not really in the fucking mood right now, eric. i’m gonna go home and make some calls in the next few days and someone will call you to offer you a job.”

someone picks up almost immediately, and thank the gods the cab was literally on the other side of the building. 

you hurl your suitcase across the living room the moment you step in, and your finger misses the weight of the ring on it. stomping into your room with so much weight in your feet that your soles hurt, you pull open the drawer with his clothes and yank them out violently, hurling them into a corner of your bedroom.

reality hits you and you kick the drawer angrily, turning to fall into your bed and breaking down with the force of vomiting. 

your cries went silent, but the screams in your head were so loud, you saw nothing but a distorted view of your ceiling. the sobs were making you jerk and buckle against the mattress so aggressively that you could feel the whole bed shifting. you clutch your chest, physically feeling like your heart was being torn apart. 

nothing runs through your head but the images of him and all the times he’s said anything that made your heart race.

his touch.

his smile.

his kind, kind heart that you thought you knew. 

but so much for ‘i love you’.

Part 10: Falling

[shesawriter39049]

|GOD SAVE THE QUEEN|M|JH|

(Does he not look like he should be scaleing a damn window?!)

SMUT/ ANGST

Pairing: Hitman Hoseok & Mob Boss OC

Genre: Mob/Mafia/Organized Crime/Drug cartels/Established/unofficial but lowkey official couple...

WC-10K (A good 3-4 of it is smut btw) 

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 “I’m going to fall a fucking part, and so will my families empire and then what!? WHO the fuck are they going to blame then!? Huh? Definitely not my damn brother, he’s too coked out to even tie his fuckign shoe laces neverthless run the family business!”

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Note- This is old...I have a TON of mob/mafia-related “Pilot” chapters as I call them..stashed in my google Docs! This is a heaverier/ agngisterst read by the way, not a downer but just heavy ya know? It works just fine as a stand alone, but by the end of it you can tell that when I initially wrote it I was setting it up to be a series! One that would eventually involve the other boys as well, so there is some backstory!

________________________________________________________________

Hoseok;s tatted, and just radiates soft dom energy…and tbh that’s all we need in this world

The OC is stressed, and needs a damn hug...the end!

Warnings: (Nonsexual- Strong language, mentions of guns, drugs/drug use and addictions, violence and mentions of chronic illness..not pertaining to Hoseok though)  

Warnings- Soft Dom Hoseok, breathe play, slight pain kink(very minimal prep before sex...by choice) overstimulation, handjobs, light come play, spit play, chill dirty talk....unprotected sex.Semi public sex-ish(in her office while the guards are outside the door...)

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Hibiscus island, Miami Florida 8PM 

‘Alright, so I’m looking at about, a half kilo of snow, hmmm, maybe a little over a quart of skag and a couple hundred Tabs of Molly…”

The line went dead on the receiving end causing the man in question to attempt the phrase again…maybe his connection was bad?

“Helll-lo? Boss I said I-”

“I heard you. Was there a an actual question in there somewhere or where you just letting me know your eyes still work?” The level of just…. dry...that fell from his tongue just now….

“Well I-umm no.No...I just wasn't told exactly what was being retrieved from the plane so I just wanted to make sure this was accurate and noth-”  The scoff that rung through the other end was borderline humiliating, as if to imply there's no way in hell he could even think this was “accurate”.

“No Mark, it’s far from accurate, but what you see in front of you is what’s there…”

Ahhh, so that explains his happy go lucky sunshine personality at the moment.

“Okay, well I’ll have this sorted and get the plane sterilized, am I sending this down to the west wing for a quality check first or is this just being disbursed to the runners?”

A deep agitated goan rattled in his throat, god whyyyy does everybody have so many questions today!?

“Just-just put it in one of the storage units for now, I’ll deal with it later” Hanging up the call before any more questions could be rendered because he honestly didn't have the patience to even pretend like he cared right now! The minute the call dropped his phone buzzed indicating he’d receive about his 8th text in a row from a person he’s a second away from releasing a full barrel face on! 

It took every ounce of self control not to just let the phone slip out of his hand and shatter against the patternized stone walkway swirling beneath his feet!

Clearly,Hoseok’s not in a good mood, like, at all...there’s just so much floating through his mind right now he’s practically running out of space to even breathe! 

He’s tired, Irritable, that earth-shattering smile of his is nowhere to be found, instead it appears to have been replaced by a semi-permanent snarl. Oh, and the best part, Germany, yeah that was a complete and utter shit show. It was supposed to just be a simple negotiation in regards to you guys expanding to a new territory. Yet he feels like the last thing he did was actually talk, I mean fuck palms still feel as though they’ve been damn near rubbed raw at this point.  Hours, that’s how long it took to rid his otherwise delicately stealth hands of their custom crimson overlay! And to make life even better, he’s the one who has the pleasure of sitting down and debriefing the whole failed mission to you! 

So yay, he loves that for himself...truly…

 Everything just feels heavy, his head, heart hell, even his spirit at his point! Feet dragging through the opulent Medetriann style courtyard as if they weigh more than he did. The only thing that somewhat has Hoseok in a decent mood was you, the fact that he’d be able to see you in person after what felt like 6 years, which in all actuality was a little shy of 5 days! 

Easing his way through oversized dual french doors, into an area that essentially acted as the east wing's  “Lobby” if you will, panes of white walls, and thick black arched windows framed the entryway. The dim lighting hanging from the cast iron chandelier gave the effect that the stark white walls were almost glowing against the moonlight peeking in. My point? The atmosphere appears calm at first glance, warm..inviting...everything Hoseok needs it to be right now because again he’s NOT in the mood for bullshit. All he’s dealt with over the past 120 some odd hours was bullshit! Hint’s why your European connect is a good, meh, four soldiers down at the moment!

I can’t say Hoseok had a specific…”Greeting” in mind upon strolling back into the compound tonight…..

However, what I can guarantee is the soundtrack that is you going full hulk mode in your office, while your guards stood outside looking like bats outta hell, definitely wasn’t high on his list! The men stationed at the security desk were already whipping their heads around before he even pulled the door open. Ah the beauty of cameras, at this point they weren’t sure what was worse. You, playing whack a mole behind the wall or Hoseok’s reaction once he put two and two together! 

It takes all of 3 steps before another piece of something glass and undeniably expensive shatters against the wall. Accompanied by a loud grunt on your behalf, voice breathy and fragile, which lets him know you’ve been at this for a while. 

The level of just, exhaustion he could hear heaving from your throat is what had him more alarmed than anything else. The fact that you clearly didn’t have the self-control to tell your body to stop…which isn't like you at all! I mean fuck, how long have you been in there?! Hoseok’s heart was beating so loud he could hear it pulsing through his ears! 

“What the fuck did you guys do?!” The first and only thing to leave his lips as he huffs towards the control desk. The guard initially stationed in front of the camera’s, rolled his seat to the far left within seconds. Allowing his superior the space to do whatever he needs, they heard Hoseok’s mouse make about 1 good click before…

“Fuckkkkk” Cursed from his lips with enough depth to bounce off every surface in the room. There was an additional gruffness laced within his tone due to lack of sleep.. which almost made the sound more initiating, borderline animalistic. Hoseok’s voice actually broke towards the end, the growl dying on his tongue before it even started. Head bowing towards the monitor as he rocked forward, attempting to re-center himself. Keyword there….”Attempting”

Precipitously, there’s another sound rattling the air and no, it’s not another object flying against the wall ,it’s Hoseok’s fist...right into the marble desktop! Yup, there are no cameras in your office...why? Because you and the man in question have no fucking self-control...which suddenly he’s really, really regretting! Well, actually, there are cameras, however they can only be turned on from inside the office,and he already knew you turned the feed off! That’s why he’s on 10 because he can’t see you..at all! You could be hurting yourself in the process and he’d have no idea! The entrance to your office is camouflage for obvious reasons, to naked eye one wouldn't even know there was an office!

Even as your consigliere Hoseok didn’t ask for much, never has, not a big fan of relying on others to handle his needs...hmm wonder why he got to that point. Still, an unspoken rule of thumb when he leaves..is it’s every mother fucker's job within the compound, hell even the damn birds that frequent the garden! Everyone, needs to do their part to make sure he dosen’t come back to this..especially with the way things have shifted internally as of late! 

And by “This” I mean you having a mental breakdown in your office, because you aren’t one to just break shit for shits and giggles! This isn’t how you deal with a transaction going south, or a distributor sending over a bad strand of coke.. something’s wrong..really fucking wrong! 

Silent, dead silent, that's what Hoseok was, and that was utterly terrifying, your men knew to give him his space, that he’d address them when he’s ready. All the while carefully observing the way his fingers twitched anxiously next to one of the soldier’s guns, before wrapping his hand around the trigger. Teeth grinding together hard enough to crack a molar, repeating his initial question…

 “What. The. Fuck. Did you guys do?” Gritted through clenched teeth as he paced the gun between the three men standing in the lobby. Not even remotely concerned that he was outnumbered because they all looked petrified...as they should….clearly patience was the very last thing he had tonight. 

“Ugh, nothing we-” Click….there goes the sound of the safety, all of three words and a staggered pause in….

Hoseok’s stance never faltered, eyes blazing into the youngers with such intensity it took everything in him not to divert his gaze away from his superior. Head cocked to the side, jaw clenched painfully tight, you can actually visibly see it twitch. The slight arch in his brow let the guard know that was the wrong damn answer and this wasn’t multiple choice, it’s fill in the blank! So he’s got about one more try before this gun goes off, and suddenly you lot will have yourselves a red accent wall! 

“Hoseok, I swear we really-” Coyly swaying from behind the desk, edging his way closer and closer, to the dumbass that still hasn’t figured out how to properly answer the question. Connecting the gun to the side of his head, shoving the lackey against the wall in the process, there was an oddly calming aura radiating off his body right now. Which was clearly in strong contrast to what was currently taking place...and that’s because this..isn’t new to him anymore. The act of taking one’s life doesn’t weigh on his heart the way it used to and maybe that makes him a monster or..maybe it makes him damn good at his job. 

This was simple honestly, if they're not the reason for said breakdown then tell him what is. Not excuses as to why it wasn’t them because clearly that won’t get him any damn where now will it?

“Fuck-...she-she went and saw her dad!” Bingo! He all about choked on that…

 “ ...and she’s been like that ever since...I swear! I swear!” Hands above either side of his head,  shaking like a leaf in the wind, Hosoek could practically see his Adam’s apple bobbing against this throat, as he backed away. 

The shift within the air was palpable, they could’ve gotten whiplash from how quickly his eyes inverted, from pure rage to pain and concern. Shoulders slouched in on themselves as he released a shaky breath from his lungs, staggering backward as he ruffled his fingers through his jet black locks. Almost appearing somewhat winded by the update that he already kinda braced himself for honestly. 

“Fuck”  The word hushed from his lips so faint he doubts any of the men even heard him. Eyes fluttering shut briefly, his opposite hand rested on the bridge of his nose. Squeezing unnecessarily, tight, intentionally re-inflicting the pain he felt maneuvering through his chest!  It wasn’t even a full 30 seconds before he heard something else shatter into pieces, instantly snapping him back to reality, forcing him to reroute his thoughts. 

“How long…” There was a sudden dryness laced within his delivery as if he really didn’t want to know the answer.

“About a hour...or so….” 

“And I’m assuming she insisted on going alone?” No even bothering to make eye contact as a hushed “Yes..” fell from the guards lips. A low hum rang in the back of his throat while his eyes outlined the patterns within the marble, silently trying to pull his shit together before he made his next request….

“Override the security, and buzz me in….” The guards couldn’t help but feel a little shell shocked at how, monotoned, and emotionless his delivery was. One minute they could feel every once of his frustration without Hoseok even opening his mouth! Suddenly, it was like he’d completely removed himself from the entire conversation. Initially, his lack of patience steamed from other bullshit but now, none of that mattered, Germany, the drug deal, none of that even scratched the surface, all that matters right now is you. 

“Boss I don’t thin-”

Gaze slowly rising from the desk, cold, and somewhat feral, not quite sure why he’s being questioned, but right now, but it's definitely not the time! Bringing his nine back level with the guard in question, Hoseok didn’t have to say anything, his middle finger caressing the trigger said it all, expression blank. Gaze daring him to do anything but, buzz his superior in as he asked..nothing more, nothing less. 

Within seconds the center wall which at first glance just looked like a block of white Statuario marble started to shift, exposing all the shattered pieces of decor on the ground. Not even attempting to warn you first because he knew you’d tell him to leave. So instead, he took a deep breath, dropped the gun back onto the desk, cracked his neck a couple times, braced himself, and stepped inside. 

_________________________________________________________

Ya know, if circumstances were different the site in front of him could actually be somewhat comical. You, standing in the middle of this obnoxiously large gilded office, all dolled up in your heels, tight little LBD, dawning every curve on your body. A wrist full of Cartier and Bvlgari,hair curled...looking like you’re ready for a night on the town. Yet, instead of sitting in the middle of some 5-star restaurant drinking aged Scotch your in here. Angry, winded and breaking shit...really expensive shit at that! 

However, there was nothing even remotely humorous in regards to the reason behind your sudden rage. Honestly, it broke his heart to see you like this! Yes, the heart that most barely believed he truly had, but that’s neither here nor there, the people that matter know it threw and threw. Hoseok could feel the anger radiating off your skin even from where he stood. You were ablaze, nothing but utter rage, doused from your pores, but what made it even worse was the blatant desperation underneath it all. 

Every scream just seemed more and more broken...sure maybe he’s a hypocrite, he breaks shit all the time when he’s angry, hell people and objects included.  But you....this wasn’t you..and this wasn’t a healthy way for you to cope! To be real the only reason he stood there so long was because he needed a second to pull his shit together! The longer he stared at you the more his chest tightened, eyes burned like hell. His fingers twitched at his side trying to resist the urge to just come grab you, but he knew better. 

Sure, in most people's eyes, and by most I mean 99.9% of the population, you’d be the farthest thing from an angel! You lost any ounce of purity yearsss ago, still, in his eyes..there’s no one more untainted then you where it counts! And that’s, all that mattered because he knows better than anyone that you have a heart made of 24kt gold. A heart that needed to be protected at all cost, and clearly at the moment that’s not happening, because he can see it! Shattering all over the place along with very pricy china! 

Chest rising and falling painfully hard against itself, you were damn near blacked out in rage. So much so you didn’t even notice your office doors opening or closing. You, the woman that trained her ear to hear the faint hum of an elevator in an upscale hotel. 

Leaning down until your face was flush with the desk, gripping the edges so hard Hoseok could hear the floor creak. He couldn’t help but notice how flushed your knuckles looked, bouquets of bruises already blooming along the smooth surface. The moment of silence only lingered about….half a second, just long enough for you to recharge and grab something else to hurl at the wall. Voice-breaking before the hiss even fully rolled off your tongue, and that  “Something” was a set of Tiffany’s champagne glasses that you utterly adored! Well aware that wouldn’t go over well once this was all said and done so he figured that was his cue. 

“Y/n…” His voice wasn’t loud enough, abrasive enough, and frankly, you were far too absorbed to even hear him on such a neutering level! Sooo, he tried again. Slipping seamlessly into his…”Boss man”  tenor if you will, adding a dash of base to his voice that you could not only hear..but feel! 

”Baby!”

You startled upon hearing the endearment, head snapping around, body staggering until you fell back onto the corner of the desk. Bracing yourself with one arm, so you didn’t actually fall, chest heaving in short staggered breaths, as you gazed back at him, though it was clear initially you really weren’t looking at him.  

“Don’t!” He could see your body starting to curl in on itself as you shifted under his gaze which currently felt like an uncapped bulb in the middle of an integration room. The warning was too half hearted for him to even acknowledge!!

“Fuckkk''  Cursed from your lips only loud enough for you to hear once you gazed up at the clock through swollen eyes, not even realizing how late it was. Far too consumed in anger to remember that Hosoek was even coming home tonight, infuriating yourself even more because this was the last thing you wanted him to walk in on.  You didn’t want to burden him with the task of having to put you back together again, you’d been doing it just fine yourself for the past 5 or so days since this has secretly become routine as of late! You cry, you break shit, you touch up your makeup, and then you walk out of your office like nothing happened and continue running this 9 figure empire.

 “Just-go-go, back outside….” You were trying to sound strong, determined like you weren’t falling apart, and you were failing...miserably failing, you weren’t in control you were practically begging. The concern in Hoseok’s eyes was more than evident and that made shit even worse. Yet no matter how bad his palms were aching to touch you, he didn’t dare to reach for you yet, he knew your limits, and right now still wasn’t it…He could physically see you shudder as if it  wasn’t a solid 75 degrees outside right now.

The silence was too much, way too much, it felt as though it was ripping you apart, or maybe you were ripping yourself apart? Maybe it’s just harder to hide from yourself when you no longer can drown out your thoughts with the sound of you screaming and breaking shit…

“Fuck, this is about Germany right? Or Amsterdam? Whatever it is, whatever you need from me. You can have it...we can talk I promise, but right now,  I need you to leave…” Trying your damnedest to hold is gaze but it felt impossible because you knew he saw straight through you!

The pause was long enough for him to say something and still...nothing...it was like he was trying to push you enough to finally admit what you really needed from him.

“I just need a minute...t-to pull my shit together and then I’ll be fine, then we can talk.” You were practically whispering, your voice was so trashed and distressed. Forcing yourself to drop an octave, removing any texture from your tone  in order to properly “convey” your message yet he still didn't budge! 

“Hoseok, don’t make me ask again...just-” Shoeing your hand towards the door to replace the word you couldn’t quite get to roll off your tongue. 

Everything about you was contradictory because now you wanted him, your eyes were pleading in agony for him to hold you and make everything disappear. Yet, your tone was dry, removed, as if he was some low-level soldier on the totem pole, not to mention you legit just told him to leave. But oh how your emotions betray you when it comes to Mr. Jung! No matter how much bullshit you just spit out, you really only said one thing...and he heard it clear as day. 

Hoseok already knows, he knows you like the inside of a VP9 Veterinary pistol, no matter how cold your delivery was it didn’t stop him from easing off the wall and invading your space. You could feel him before he even got in within 10 ft of you, his aura already starting to infiltrate your little bubble! His stride was slow, confident, making up for all the things you currently lacked because that’s what a good partner does! 

He could see how hard you were clinging to the table as if you were using that to ground you, afraid of how lost you’d get once he got in arm’s length. This man had a soul that outweighed yours by miles and that was one of your favorite things about him, how deep he could go in more ways than one.  Hoseok didn’t stop until he was standing directly in front of you, close enough for you to taste the speirment on his tongue. Still, he hasn’t touched you and now you really needed him to touch you! The sweet musky scent of his cologne filling your lungs, you could practically feel the heat radiating off his body, god why weren’t the two of you in bed right now? Not even having sex nesicarilly,  just naked, skin on skin...you just wanted to feel him. It’s actually disgusting, the amount of control he has over your entire sense of being at this point. The way even just the slightest touch can completely throw all of your senses out of whack or back in whack I guess I should say.  

“Hmmm, a minute is all you need yeah….” Not even attempting to phrase it as a question because he knew it was all bullshit anyway!  So you didn’t dare respond, not trusting your voice anyway, just keeping your eyes trained on his...getting lost in how bright they looked in contrast to yours. Spreading your legs on instinct so he could get even closer, shifting slightly on top of the desk. 

Hands braced on either side of your frame to give him leverage as he tilted forward. “Well, it seems as though you’ve had….many minutes, hours even..” Eyes wandering around the room observing the mess you’d made, yeah the maids gonna need a bonus after this!  

“It doesn’t appear you having time alone has done you much good so try again baby…”Hoseok had a tenor that was meant for your ears, and your ears only. The typical bright almost giddy little accent to his tone was always replaced by a calmer, warmer one. An underlying element of sensuality that exuded just the right amount of calculated…. control….an effortless sense of dominance if you will.

Staring down at you through hooded lids thoroughly, reading for any ounce of discomfort! Once he didn’t find any... finally, you felt his hands take a firm grip on your waist. Your body tensed initially, hoping to counteract how hard you were still shaking! Hint, you failed, you were practically vibrating against him at initial contact!

“Breathe y/n...” 

“I am, trust me that’s the only thing I can do right now…” There was still a slight bite rolling off your tongue, no matter how winded you sound. However, in Hoseok’s eyes sass is better than silence so carry on! 

Nosing along the side of your neck, right beneath your ear, next to your windpipe, letting him feel how you truly felt, which was unbalanced and a little lost. Your heart rate per 15 seconds was probably double what it was on an average day and yes, Hoseok knows how many times your heart beats per minute on an average day! 

“Baby...” Cooed from his lips almost sympathetically as he slowly started painting a trail down the side of your neck with his lips. 

“Hoseok, I-god-I can’t-” You “can’t “what exactly?  Relax? Give in? Shut your brain off? What “Can't” you do? 

“Yeah, yeah, you can, let me turn shut your brain off for a minute , let me take care of you.” Hands gently ravishing your body, effortlessly sending goosebumps down your spine with every feather-like touch. 

“I’ll give you any, and everything you want, but I won’t leave you alone right now…” The words fanned against your skin making your shiver against him, no matter how calm his tenor was the dominance was clear as day! You didn’t have a say in the matter….

Reclining your neck on instinct giving him more room to work as you tried to clear your mind of any and everything that wasn’t Hoseok as you let your eyes fan shut. 

“Hoseok…” Staggered out heavily feeling like you were choking and he only offering a hum in response, not letting up from his current mestractions….”Fuck, yeah, okay just- just keep touching me...please” You weren’t typically a beggar even in bed but right now you needed him, not int he mood to be sassy or play hard to get, to be honest, you just didn’t have the energy. 

“I’m not going anywhere baby..I’m right here..all here for you..always…in any way you need me…” Palms soothing down your thighs, reaching under to smoothly wrap them around his waist, bringing his hips flush to yours. Once he felt you secure your ankles he reached for your hands, kissing along your knuckles before sliding them under the back of his shirt. Knowing how skinship puts your mind at ease, and the second the pads of your fingers graze his skin...you’re already finding  yourself digging your nails into his shoulders. Ripping a low growl from his throat, as he rocked his hips forward, re-positioning his arms on either side of your body so his forehead was flush to yours. 

“All here for you, in any way you need me..” That seems to hold a lot more weight as of late and no matter how much you’re trying to rid your mind of those thoughts..you can’t, you fucking can’t. Suddenly you’re clawing at his shoulders for a different reason, and it hurts, and not the fun kinda pain either…he hears a faint whimper leave your lips, as you clung to him even tighter.

“Y/n….” He exhales, voice shaking eyes glazed over, welting full of tears he’s praying don’t fall because he needs to be strong for you right now. “Baby” There was a blatant plea laced within that and you...

“I know, I know…” it’s unsaid...though it’s clearly not unsaid because you know...youuuu know, the two of you avoided that word. Maybe because if you said it that makes the idea of losing each other even worse. So for now, you’d just prefer to endlessly show it…....

Talking would just suck ass right now, so you opted for the later and leaned in, it wasn’t soft or delicate..you kissed him hard. Until he was gasping through his nose to breathe while, almost stifling forward,letting your hands wander up his shirt to thread into his hair.  Tugging at his scalp until you heard him moan against your tongue, taking that as your invitation to lick your way into his mouth which he accepts willingly. Reclining his jaw letting you have control because he figured you could probably use that right now.  Your lips moved with such emotion, and just pure passion that you don’t know if you’d ever felt so weak under him..yet powerful all at the same damn time! You almost feel lightheaded, the more you kiss, tongues meeting with such desperation your chest feels like it’s burning. Teeth clashing, nails clawing so hard into Hosoek’s skin it hurts but he doesn’t give a damn.

You tilt your head back giving him free access to do as he pleases and he bites. Hard. Until he rips a moan right off your tongue and it sounds so damn good….Nipping licking and sucking over every inch of skin he can reach. Feenin to hear you moan over and over again...until your lips find his and your clawing at his v-neck for dear life. Yanking at the neckline until you hear it rip, lifting and tugging it until he finally takes the hint….

“Offff” 

“Come take what you want.” Pulling back to allow you to yank it over his head, exposing mounds of warm and toned honey-coated skin, covered in trails of articulately placed ink. A combination of new-aged back and white with hints of watercolor paint his skin, telling an array of stories that you know like the back of your hand at this point!

Tugging him back by the nape of his neck so his chest is flush to yours, the warmth radiating through the fabric of your dress, which didn’t cover much, to begin with. Rolling your hips up into his for slight friction until your moaning back against his tongue again, hands moving down to help you grind at a steady rhythm. The contrast of the rough material of his jeans, against your clit was really fucking you up right now.  

“Hoseok…”

“Baby” He countered in a way that had your curls trying to curl under the pad of your heels! 

“Fuck, Fuck me,” You whispered against his lips intentionally whiney, and he froze instantly, not that he didn’t want to because fuck he wanted to he just...Hoseok’s big on talking shit out. Not one for hiding or aiding emotions, and clearly there’s something wrong here!

“I really,need you right now”  You whisper again, nipping at his bottom lip and now it’s hopeless because this man knows he can’t deny you a damn thing. He hasn’t been able too since the two of you met in Paris, initially as strangers stood on a roof with your Colt Pistols aiming dead in each other’s faces.

You could feel the frustration growling from his throat but still, he kissed you deeper, harder, rocking you against the desk so your laying on your back. Rolling his hips against you slowly just to hear you moan against his tongue. ‘Hoseok!” Yeah, your whiny, and yeah your inpatient…

‘God, the shit you do to me…” Leaning in to steal your breath away with another deep brusing kiss.There was a hint of frustration and disbelief, lingering within that, and you can’t help but smile up at him, soothing your palms down the smooth planes of his chest. Nails idly outlining the array of cherry blossoms painting his skin, framing his collarbone perfectly. Not even trying to hide how much you loved knowing you had the same effect on him, which in laymen’s terms just means your both helplessly and endlessly whipped! 

Being in this deep, with someone within your world is dangerous, even more so when they’re actually in the field,  not hauled up in a castle, like some modern-day Repunzel. It can make you vulnerable, irrational, hypersensitive, but on the flip side, it can also turn you into the most lethal version of yourself where enemies are concerned. Your need to ensure no one stands in the way of whatever you deem your “Happy Ending” to be, becomes insatiable...you’d set cities ablaze for that man and he’d do the same..in a heartbeat! 

Considering that’s the first, and only smile he’s seen from you in days he can’t help but lean down again. Leaving one more lingering kiss against your lips sighing out in content at how laxed and pliant you feel under him, you already know he’s smiling, you can feel Hoseok's teeth against your lips. Tentatively he untangles himself, not before leaning down a good three or four more times to kiss you again. As if he's going far, hell as if your ass was going any damn where to begin with even if he was. 

Smoothing his hands up your thighs, hiking your dress around your waist in the process, hissing at the fact you opted against panties today. The minute he eased your legs apart not only could he smell how much you need him but he could see...the need dripping from your lips. Wiggling your hips a little, as your arched even further onto the oversized glass desk, shoving the mounds of files to the side, your heels gave you the perfect angle to completely spread out. Putting yourself on full display, the slight elevation on your lower half had your hips tipping slightly forward, giving him  access to everything he needed! Your gaze was far  too innocent for his liking as you batted your lashes in his direction. Easing your hands up your body.. taking a little detour to caress your breast in your hands before letting them get lost in your hair. 

An all-knowing smirk playing on your lips as you watch his eyes slowly unravel every inch of your body. If you didn’t know any better you’d think his mouth was watering, stealth fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave a mark. Dropping to his knees..

“I don’t-”

“I know, I know”  Leaning forward until his lips were flush with your inner thigh, eyes trained on yours daring you to look away, jerking slightly when he bit you, then a low moan fell off your lips as he sucked on the spot. 

“You sound so fuckin good” Slurred against your skin, teeth sinking into your thigh even harder this time leaving a larger bite mark. Not pulling back until you squirmed from under him, his name husking off your tongue. 

What you meant earlier was you didn't want him to fully prep you tonight, you wanted the pain, the feeling of him stretching you open around his cock instead of his fingers. The delicious burn that almost makes you feel like your on the brink being split open! But I mean, fuck, look at you, he can’t just..not taste you, right? I mean no he HAS to taste you…

Resting his head against your inner thigh, thumbs kneading your skin while he started to kiss  his way around your bikini line. There seems to be no rush and at the moment you were just enjoying the warmth ghosting off his lips so you laid there content. Then, he leaned forward, placing his lips flush against your clit, leaving an array of solid lingering kisses all the way up your lips. And yeah they were somewhat chaste at this point,but you were feeling real needy  right now so even that had you squirming beneath him. 

“Hoseok” Sighed from your lips as you felt goosebumps spread through your body, gently massaging your nipples through your dress, somewhat teasing yourself instead of giving direct contact. Just allowing your touch to ghost over, until you’re arching into your own hand, pinching even tighter but still not giving your body the full sensation . 

“Y/n” Hoseok replied, calm as ever, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you “God, your so damn sexy…” Slowly his tongue fell from his lips and landed right around your clit, sucking it into his mouth with a moan that shot through every cell in your body. He sucked, and slurped you between his lips so hard, and you damn near smothered him with your thighs on accident. Your body's first instinct was to pull away, there was so much pressure and stimulation being applied to literally the most sensitive region of your body. And it was steady, once he had you wrapped around your tongue that's where you stayed.

“Holy shit-babyyy” Eyes squeezing shut, trying to remember how to breathe!

 Your mind and body weren’t on the same page, thighs practically vibrating on either side of his head and the minute he felt your legs close in, he nipped the skin between his teeth.Forcing you to arch up and away instead of clamping down, a broken cry of his name falling off your tongue as you tried to desperly keep your legs apart. 

He knew you needed a distraction, leaning forward, grabbing your hand and burying it into your hair, making sure you had an almost painfully tight grip on his scalp! You were damn thankful because holding him like this gave you some sense of ground, instead of you feeling like your about to plummet through the glass.

Hoseok always touched you like he wanted too, like he was the one getting off which prompted your next question once the air resurfaced to your lungs. 

“Mmm, fuck your hard for me already aren’t you? Just tasting me get’s my baby hard doesn't it?” You knew the answer but damn if it didn’t feel good to hear him moan it out anyway.

Nipping at your thigh again, this time a little harder “You fuckin, known, what you do to me, I could come right now if I didnt need to feel you come all over my cock” You moaned so loud at that, gripping his scalp even tighter. “That’s it baby, keep me where you want me.” So you did just that. Pushing his head down so he had nowhere to go but your clit, however the smirk you could feel resting against your thigh should've warned you that he was about to rip you apart.

Hoseok circled his tongue around the very tip, meriscally, his strokes were deep and languid, and they ripped you apart. There's no other way to describe the way he’s volleying your pussy around his tongue, right now! The only comparison I can give you is he’s kissing your clit, and every crevice between your lips, as if he was thoroughly exploring every inch of your mouth . He was loud, and messy, in his pleasure where your concerned, the almost primal sound of his lips, and spit smacking against your folds. Low, needy moans vibrating against your skin as if you were the best damn thing he’d tasted all day. Pulling back to spit directly on your entrance, pursing his lips, and blowing , directing it to fall straight in and your body clenched hard. Fuck you needed, him to inside you…. nuzzling his face between your thighs until his nose was flush with your clit. He knew better than to work you open with his fingers so he opted for his tongue. Picking his own lubricate back up with the tip of his tongue and swirling it around the entrance. Moaning at the wall your body naturally started clenching around the muscle. You were a moaning mess beanthe him, hips rocking against his face.

You’re getting antsy now, wiggling your hips harder, you felt like you were close from this alone and that;s not what you wanted “Fuck Hoseok, baby just fuck me…”  Yanking his head until he pulled away, dragging his lips down to meet yours, chin glistening with all traces of you. The kiss was hard, messy,your essence was all you could taste against his tongue, moaning out as he rocked his hips into you. Leaning forward so he could reach into the Hermes gift box which was kinda decoration kinda used to store lube and other shit you really should have in an office! 

The minute he grabbed the bottle you ripped it from his hands, this was the least you could do,plus you just loved how heavy he felt in your palm. Hoseok almost growled as he deepened the kiss, more teeth and tongue than finesse,the kiss is hard, it feels like your both gasping for air the entire time but neither of you want to pull apart. Pulling at his belt with nothing but a whine until he gets the hint and smacks your hand out of the way, within seconds you feel him hit your stomach. Hot, hard, and heavy, and god if you didn't clench so damn hard, he’s literally twitching  on top of you right now.

“Do you even have the slightest idea how fucked up I am for you?  How hard I am and you havent even touched me yet?” 

“Mmm, I don’t know baby it’s been a minute since I’ve seen you...” Your whispers seductive yet taunting,kissing at his jaw and his neck, smiling against his skin at the low moans that spill from his lips. “Tell me..

Digging your heels into his back as you uncapped the bottle, taking an obscene amount in your hand before reaching between your bodies. Ripping a shaky moan from Hoseok's throat once you laced your fingers around his cock. Squeezing just enough to let all the acces lube drizzle down his shaft and land on his balls, he’s just throbbing in your palm right now and your not even moving yet. “Does it make you feel good to know you got me wrapped around your finger? Knowing- I’d- fuck-” Now, your moving,  hand working his shaft, flucuating the way you distribute pressure, loosser at the bottom and tighter twoards the head  becuse thats his sweet spot. Lube just running down your fingers, it’s so damn messy and you love it,he's straight up whining into your mouth right now. Breath fanning against your face as he nuzzles into your skin...lips parted.

“Knowing that you’d what baby?”  Tugging his bottom lip between your teeth, feeling the way his hips twitched above you , so you slow down your pace, and tighten your grip. Hoseok's brows are furrowed chest flushed…..he looks fucking beautiful.

“That I’d kill anyone in a heartbeat for you, that i’d never let a damn thing happen to you” He can't help but rock into your fist even harder, eyes struggling to stay focused but he refuses not to look at you.. “Does that get to you the same way it does me? Because I still get hard thinking about the way you went toe to toe with Jin’s father about me that night in Italy.” Trailing his tongue down the side of your jaw nibbling ever so slightly “That,was-fuck-the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.”

“God, I-...” Licking your way back into his mouth as you continued working him in your hand, moving your thumb over his tip, smearing the mounds of precum into the excessive lube .“Yeah, fuck yeah, it turns me on wayy more than it should. I shouldn't want you to be reckless when it comes to me but god if it's not sexy as all hell knowing you would be…” 

“And I would” he responds with zero Hesitation….

The sudden passion somewhat catches you off guard honestly, and the fire burning through his eyes as he said that is….stifling to say the least. 

“You’d go to war with me baby?” You didn't intend to shift the mood this heavy, yet you couldn't help the way it just vomited off your tongue. Maybe it’s your subconscious talking right now, still trying to fight it’s way through regardless of your current surroundings! 

Reaching up to cup your jaw, tilting your chin upwards, placing the most fragile kiss along your lips . “With you, for you, anyway you spin it the answer is yes...a hundred times over baby it’s yes…” The ache you currently felt coursing through your veins for this man right now...

“I need you in me. Now. I promise will go slow...please let me do this” 

Hoseok held your gaze for a moment before responding, searching your eyes for any hesitation “‘And you’ll tell me if it’s too much..” Grip firm around your waist, not even bothering to phrase it as a question because it wasn’t one...

‘Promise…” Placing the tip right at your entrance,and Hoseok can feel your heat trying to pull him in but he retreats. Giving you full control, keeping your eyes trained on his, well aware that’s what he needed to make sure, he could gauge our pain whether you wanted to admit it or not. Initially, nothing happened neither of you moved, just the faint suction of your very neglected pussy trying to suck him in.

 “I said I wanted you to fuck me...you know my body better than I do..make me take you…” 

‘I-” Yeah. Hoseok.Exe stopped working because he definitely wasn't expecting that, thinking you’d just rock yourself down, not that you wanted him to gauge your restience! Nails raking down his back as you roll your hips against him, making sure he can feel how warm and wet you are, how ready you are..positioning your lips to moan right against his ear.

“Fucking come’re” Hosoek leans forward smashing his lips against yours so hard it hurts, grabbing your legs, bracing them on either side of his shoulders. Sliding your hips forward until the backs of your thighs are flush with his chest, and your red bottoms are facing the ceiling. Gripping his length, teasing the head up and down your folds, as he left a trail of open wet mouthed kisses down your jaw,behind your ear, over to your neck. Ending with his lips nuzzled against your ear…returning the gesture “Missed you, touching you,” Exensuating each word with a kiss “The sound of your voice, waking up to you, being inside you...” Rocking his hips against yours deep, and hard.

You can’t even help but moan at just the mention of him being inside again after what feels like months “Want you, need you....” You’re in rare form tonight, yeah, your always a little submissive with him but not to this extent. 

“Your really tryin to break me today huh?” Tugging your lobe between his teeth before suctioning his lips around your jaw, at this angle Hoseok had the fronts of your thighs colliding with your chest. If he even considers  bringing you back this deep once he’s in you...it’s game over…”You ready?” 

“God yes” Soothing your hands up his stomach once he pulled back, skin hot to the touch and initially nothing happens, just the pressure of Hoseok's tip. Wiggling your hips playfully gives him a little incentive, so he starts to rock forward, and suddenly play times over! Your body freezes dead in its tracks...Hoseok's eyes stay trained on yours the entire time and your jaw clenches at the exact moment your pussy clamps down around his tip. As if you're trying to reroute the pressure elsewhere…A slight whine spills form your lips which lets him know there is still some pleasure laced within all of this.

‘Touch me, keep touching me baby….” Somehow Hoseok appears to be offensively calm regardless of the vice like grip you currently have around him! The request was more for you than him, knowing how much you needed his warmth right now! Clearly your not even close to being settled enough for him to come down flush level yet. So, this will have to do,taking your hands in his, guiding them down his body leisurely. Leading your fingers on a little field trip, sighing contently once you feel how warm and toned he is, how strongly his body reacts to your touch. The way every muscle twitches as you ghost over it, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Subconsciously you found yourself leaning towards his touch, hissing out once you shifted a little too much for the moment.

“You still with me baby?” 

Nodding slowly as you try to focus, steading your breathing as much as possible, you wanted, no, needed to feel him like this! He can see the pain coursing through your body as the two of you still hold each other's gaze, which is the only thing keeping you grounded right now. Resting his head against your inner thigh, kissing along your skin once he feels his tip breach your quivering entrance. And it’s tight , fuck it’s tight, your body feels like it’s buring from the inside out once you swollow the swell of his head between your lips. Your jaw slacks open and nothing comes out, he’s not even sure if your breathing right now but what he does know is your eyes are still open and focused on Hoseok. 

“Goddamn” Hoseok groans deep and low head lulling back and finally he sounds just as fucked up as you,hand taking a bruisingly hard grip on your hips. He’s actually trying to shift back a little, so he can rock back in, but he can’t. You won’t let him go,“You gotta-shit, you gotta  let me breathe a little baby….fuck” He’s winded and using every once of self control he has to stay stationary, even though your applying a dangerous amout of pressure to the most sesentive regin of this mans shaft. The tip, that's all that's suctioned between your heat and your squeezing him like your trying to break him, and there isn't a damn thing you can do about it.  

 So you try, fuck you try, exhaling then inhaling then exhaling again, attempting to get all your msucles to relax. Only problem is your not even clenching around Hoseok’s cock, you just have him trapped. Your just clamped tight, so tight it hurts, on both ends! He can feel your thighs shaking around him, pulling inwards as if your bodies trying to curl in on itself , and he knows this isn't going to work! He’s hissing hard too, nails digging into the swell of your ass, and thankfully once the two of you make eye contact yours are daggering into him with a silent plea. And he already knows what you want! The real issue is there’s way too much swirling around your head mentally for you to have full control over your senses right now. So, that's when you render him full control of any and every inch of your being to do as he pleases in order to give you what you need.

“Ho-Seok...fuck just-” 

 Reaching out for one of your hands so you can squeeze his as hard as you need, kissing along your knuckles.”Yeah?” 

“Yeah!” Tilting your head back with a beathy whine, squeezing his fingers even tighter….

 “You trust me?” Nodding without hesitation “I need you, to keep your eyes open, and focus, can you do that for me baby? ”  It’s a lot but Hoseok knows your limits and if it was truly too much he’d pull out, you can take it, all of it. Shifting your thighs so there now wrapped around his waist as opposed to above his head.  Pouring an obscene amount of lube on the remainder of his shaft, not even bothering to rub it in, just letting the excess drip onto the table. 

“And if you can’t get your colors out?” 

“Pinch you...I’m good, I know you got me...”A lazy smile tugging on your lips as you just try to stay calm.

“On the count of three, take a deep slow breath through your nose...and don't exhale until I tell you too” Hoseok cups your cheek and you nuzzle into it, kissing the tips of his fingers, you can feel them trembling though he’s trying to appear at ease.. 

“K” Yes wide, but focused, determined...a  little stubborn but hell you've already started right? 

Hoseok's eyes flutter shut briefly, taking in a deep slow breath of his own, making sure he’s in the right headspace to guide you through this. Once those big brown eyes of his creek open and your gazes meet again it’s heavy. Hosoek’s eyes are blown out, half lided, already glazed over, he just looks like sex...and he looks like hes about to break you in all the right ways! 

Adjusting his grip on your hip, steadying himself, thumbing at your side, “Count with me….1” God, the textures in this man's voice where unreal, he just sounds so damn smooth, the hushed command had so much control, and warmth wrapped up in all of 4 words.

He rocks forward, barely...just to see if you’ve loosened up and you still haven’t budged... Flicking his chin in your direction indicating he wanted you to continue…

“Two…” You’d be lying if you aid your heart wasn;t hammering in your ears as you let a deep breath start to fill your lungs.

“Three” Whispped through clenched teeth and he didn’t hesitate, rocking back just a little so he has better leverage tilting his hips upwards and he watches your eyes widen..thighs tense but he doesn't stop. Redirecting all of his weight into his abdomen, grinding down with a deep, heavy roll of the hips, you can feel every muscle in his back within this first thrust. Your fingers twitch in his hold, eyes glazing over relatively quickly, but your still looking at him, barely but you are. Even Hoseok’s breathing a little shaky, brows furrowed, but he's in, his tips fully past your entrance “Let it out baby….” 

And you do, whimpering hard, as a choked out breath hippicus through your chest, initially you were expecting him to pause. Give you a minute to adjust to the initial stretch…..Nope…

He doesn't stop, he's still rolling forward and now your gasping and whimpering all over again, even louder this time! Hoseok’s thumbs bruising the hell out of your hips but you don’t have him stop, you can’t! Your mind and body needs this right now, the tension the burn,all of it! 

“That’s it…” Even though his restricted breathing you can hear the fondness dripping off his tongue. “ Focus on me, I got you” The more he breaches his way through your heat the more the wind gets knocked out of your lungs but it’s good, it’s soo damn good! You manage to somewhat choke out his name and he just hums in response, biting down on his bottom lip in concentration. Untangling his hand from yours to brace both on either side of his head. Hoseoks pushing through steadily now,morphing his way through your heat that’s still trying to fight against him but he doesn't stop.No matter how hard you pulsing around him, Hoseok's shaft drags forward until his balls meet the swell of your asss. And finally he’s right on top of you, your bodies trembling beneath him so he gently lowers himself. Bringing his chest flush to yours letting your wrap your arms around his neck. Clawing your way down his back, intentionally releasing some of the tensions coursing through your veins. Licking his way back into your mouth, kissing deep, and messy until your light headed and desperate. Endless Moans richoching against one other, his palms soothing down your thighs. 

Everything pauses for a while, neither of you move, your both panting hard into each other's mouths while you adjust and Hoseok's not rushing you either. Wanting you to relax a little so he doesn't come after all of 2 strokes, idily  tracing patterns against your skin. Finally able to feel your breathing even out, muscles becoming more laxed beneath him!

“You ready for me baby?,”

All you can do is moan in response, still so overwhelmed, squeezing your legs around his waist as hard as you could so he at least knows your still with him. 

So he does, pulling out and pushing back in, and your eyes automatically roll back at the feeling. It’s still tight as fuck but he’s somehow managing to weave his way through. .

“Hurts?”  He can’t help but ask since your thighs are still shaking a little, and you nod honestly.

“Good pain? Good enough to make my pretty baby come?” More of a statement than a question, you can hear the smirk in his voice, as he kissed down your jaw. Trying to distract you a little,sucking a couple bruises along the front of your neck . Edging his way back and forth building up a steady tempo, and finally Hoseok can feel the shift. He’s able to breathe within you a little better, your letting him wade in a little deeper! 

You exhale shakily and nod again, feeling him shift off of you, repositioning your legs on either side of his shoulders.Leaning forward pressing all his weight into his arms until your thighs are flush to your chest. 

Your mouth opens and closes, kinda like a fish outta water, you do it a few times but not shit comes out.

“Baby…” Kissing up your inner thigh as he gently rocks forward , slowing down a little so you can feel the slow drag of his cock pull you apart. Back arching ever so lightly, moaning out low and wanton “Your so, sexy, doin so good for me” Nuzzling against your skin, nipping lightly at your inner thigh. 

“Your deep” The word barley leaves your tongue “Fuck, faster..”

“Yeah?”

Before you can even respond he snaps his hips forward and you almost scream, nails digging into his disciples as he stares down at you with a smirk that’s..real concerning considering the position he has you in. So he does it again, pulling his cock halfway out and rocking forward, 

“That’s it, that’s what my baby needed,” Hoseok whispers and thrust forward even harder this time, rocking up on the heels balls of his feet as if he’s aiming for your damn ribcage. 

Your mouth falls back open, looking like you wanna moan but you can;t every exhale gets cut off by another deep roll of the hips,repositioning himself so he braced with one arm. Running the other up your face, into your hair, before cradilling your jaw, thumbing at your bottom lip which you nip and suck into your mouth. Humming out contently, as you lick a stipe up his index and middle finger, not missing the way Hoseok’s cock twitches at the added stimulation. 

“Look at you…..” Eyes trailing down your body agnoniziling slow, taking in each and every detail as if it’s the very first times he's ever seen you like this. And still, you can’t help but shutter at the genuine astonishment burning through those lust filled eyes of his. Which eventually land on the site that his is cock dissappring between your wet and swollen pussy, lips just sprawled over his balls just the way he likes “ My baby's so good for me hmm?

“Always…” you whisper eyes rolling back,,completely glazed over, as his fingers fallback from your lips, every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire right now.

Hoseok gets lost for a minute, watching the way your so pliant and trusting with him, eyes squeezed shut just letting yourself get consumed by all things Hoseok! Pulling back just enough to spit directly on your clit. The texture has your eyes flying open the instantly rolling shut once he brings his thumb down to work the bud at a swift steady pace. 

“Fuckkkk” Whimpering loudly in repsonse “Don’t stop, fuck harder..” And that he does, harder faster every thrust has his balls smacking against your ass. “Fuck, yes! Fuck, you feel so good…” 

“Yeah, yeah...your right there...come on baby…” He can feel you pulsing even harder against him. Not that you ever fully stopped but the tensions different now, more constricted…..he starts thrusting home hard! Spitting an even bigger wad on your clit, mixing it with the extra lube dripping down his balls as he continues ripping your nerves wide open. 

“Fuck, kiss me!” Whiney and bossy as per usual!

Smacking his hand away, exchanging it for your own so you can drag him down and take what you need, placing  your index and middle finger straight to the clit, which was rock hard. Applying as much pressure as possible, until the friction almost burns. Feeling your release dangling right in front of your face.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come...” You whisper out  all of a sudden slowly rocking your hips forward trying to meet his thrust though it’s  kinda hard in this position. 

“Yeah? You gonna come all over my cock? Then let me fill you up until I’m dripping down your thighs...” The kiss is messy more tonuge and teetht han skill, he can feel you, your right fucking there, thrusting into so hard it almost hurts.

Your eyes widen, brows furrowing to the center of your face, breath shuttering in your throat, mouth just parted against his, then your eyes squeezed shut. Fingers still working your clit, and your coming, silent at first until your crying out, voice shattinger , nails dragging from the nape of hoseok's neck down his back! He dosen’t stop fucking you, not even for a second, going just as, and fast as he was before, while you whitherbenathe him. The second he feels you try and pull your hand away he drops his hips even lower, restricting any movements. 

“Don’t fucking stop! Keep coming until I do, I'm right there,ride this out with me baby” He all about growls at you, and you don’t even dare to disobey, to be honest you don’t wanna stop. Body almost working on autopilot to chase the buzz running through your body, running towards it as much as your trying to run away…it’s too much but it’s soo good!

He’s thrusting into you as hard as he can but fuck if his biceps aren’t on fire and he just can’t finish the way he wants...the way he needs. So he pulls out, fast, barley giving you time to whine nevertheless realize what's going on and he slides over next to you. Lying back on the desk and grabbing you within seconds, sinking you back down onto his cock in one swift notion. Nails digging into your hips as he fucks you down onto him, hard, short thrust rip through your body, not making you do a damn thing but try and hang on for the ride! Your gasping hard, tossing your head back once you reconnect your hand with your clit. Attempting to roll your hips down and meet the pace he’s set but it's merciless… and he’s picking up speed quickly. 

“jesus-fuck-Ho-oseok!” Your nails are raking into this man's chest so hard you wouldn't be surprised if you broke skin but he’s groaning deep and that’s only egging you on! 

His honey coated complexion’s just dripin, brows furrowed, eyes barley ajar, Hoseok seems to be returning the favor. His thumb is about a second away from leaving a permanent indentation and it hurts but you need it. Not even a question as to if you guards can hear you or not your loud! Voice trashed, and very swipe of the hand has you jerking and twitching above him because your clits sentive as all fuck, but goodamn if he dosen’t look good, forhead sweaty  jaw slacked. 

“Y/n, Y/n, fuckk” He’s whining high and needy, heats rashing over his body, and you feel his balls tighen against your ass, and now he turly is right there. You can feel him twitching hard inside you.

“Come onnn baby, you know I fuckin want it, you know I wanna be fu-” There’s a choked out tear rolling down your cheek your bodies spazing so damn hard, it’s painful. Before you can even make sense of what’s happening your crying, and your clenching and coming all over again, your bodies completely spent. Toppling on top of him, instantly because...what the hell just happened?? 

 You clamp down tight around his cock unintentionally, body just luid, and spasming above him and you both moan and that’s when he comes, hard. Eyes open, and locked with yours, a low goan of your name falling from his lips as he spills into you. Hoseok’s shaking beneath you but he doesn't even try to pull out, reaching up to gently brush the tears off your cheek. Taking your hand in his, and sucking those same two fingers into his mouth, eyes locked with your as he does so, and your too damn spent to even react properly. Slowly he still continues thrusting into you, leaning up to press a couple soft kisses against your lisp, humming contently as you taste yourself.  Adjusting his grip so he has one hand, caressing the back of your neck and the other wrapped around your waist. Rubbing slow soothing circles down your spine, as he cards his fingers through your hair, your chest heaving together in unison as your bodies slowly come down. 

“Hi” The words hush off your tongue with a lazy, and utterly exhausted smile, eyes too heavy to open until you feel his teeth pressing against your lips. Letting you know he's smiling too and I mean, fuck, who are yuo to declien a front row seat to to watch the sunrise!

“Hi baby…”  Leaning up to press another linger kiss against your lips as his hips to a halt, just letting you simmer around him. Even the slight stimulation was enough to have both of you moaning out in overstimulation...

________________________________________________________________

The comedown was always slow between the two of you so it’s not a surprise that your bodies and tongues stayed tangled together long after Hoseok came. Eventually, the desk got a little uncomfortable, Hoseok's damn near stuck to it ,there's so much heat radiating off his skin.  So he wraps you in his arms and plops the two of you down on the couch. All the while , his cocks still bured between your lips, your dress is still flipped over your ass and his jeans and hanging low against his thighs! 

“How you feelin?”Pressing delicate kisses all over your face, hands rubbing your inner thighs because he knew they were burning by now.

“Tired” You pouted, mumbling slightly...

“Well, I guess I did my job then huh?” A faint smirk tugging on his lips, as he kissed down your jaw….

Once the two of you settled on the couch Hoseok waits a moment, opting to see if you’d want him to pull out though he should’ve known better, the two of you fall asleep like this more times than not! Gently stroking his fingers down your back in hopes it would coax you into talking without him having to pry it out of you!  The longer you lot sat in silence the faster your heart rate got, Hoseok could actually hear it echoing throughout the room. Leaning down to press a flurry of kisses into your scalp trying to ease you in anyway he could. Eventually, the T-rex in the room was starting to feel a little suffocating sooo...

“He’s just not...doing well, like…. at all…” Tone flat, as if you were trying to remove yourself from the situation at hand. Purposely nuzzling into the side of his neck, bussing yourself with the chains dawning his collarbones. The lack of eye contact wasn’t because you were embarrassed it’s because you just really didn’t wanna cry. You came wayyyy too hard your body can’t handle shit else! 

“I know-I know we’ve known this for a while…” There was this really thick lump hammering in your throat that really didn’t want to leave, the stability within your tone was swiftly heading south. Hoseok could hear it too, no matter how muffled you sound, suddenly more kisses were being pressed into your scalp.

“I guess, I was just fucking naive because he was doing soooo damn good earlier in the year ya know? ” Eyes fluttering up to meet his tentatively, your lashes fanning his skin gave that away, and he gazed down instantly. A dry chuckle leaving your throat, shaking your head as if your the butt of your own joke, but didn’t find it funny nor did he find it naive. 

Holding you even tighter, if that was possible…Those big brown eyes of his were soft and so damn fond of you it was actually ridiculous. If only your enemies could see you now, two of the most notoriously cutthroat people in the industry, throwing googly eyes back and forth! Looking like a couple in some cheesy Netflix romcom! Leaning down to press a lingering kiss on your lips, not pulling back until you released the breath that apparently only he knew you were holding. 

 ”Listen to me baby, there’s nothing naive about being hopeful, there’s also no handbook on how to handle your father dying. Even if you know it’s coming sooner than later..doesn't make any of this shit easier...”

“I know but...fuck…” Shifting slightly so your sitting more upright arm propped on the cushion behind his shoulder. “It’s just a lot, because I feel like I can’t fully do my job because if I do, I’ll miss something. Maybe I’ll miss...it, I mean Germany for fuck’s sake! That’s totally something I’d typically go on..instead, I forced y-”

Leaning down to press his lips against yours again, hoping you’d get the hint “In case you forgot..I volunteered, you never asked...you didn’t have too. And my job, for the record, is whatever you need it to be!” There was nothing but fire blazing into your eyes right now, he needed you to feel that, that he’s here for whatever you need..whenever you need it...however you need it! 

“I know, Seok-baby I know, and I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know” Reaching out to cup his jaw, melting at the way he instantly nuzzled into your palm before giving it a kiss. 

“However, I’m suppose to be in charge, I’m suposed to be in control, and I’m not.. I’m already falling apart and he’s not even gone yet…” That sentence alone had you feeling like you wanted to throw up! “I mean can you fuckin imagine how much of a wreck I’m gonna be?” Hoseok could hear how agitated you were getting so he opted to just stay quiet until he was sure you were done talking…

“Seok, I’m going to fall a fucking part-” You tried to turn your head before the tear rolled down your cheek but you failed, voice breaking off before you could even continue your thought. Hastily whipping your face as if you were mad at yourself for being so emotional right now. Nails daggering into his but he didn’t pull away, he let you be, he’s felt way worse. 

“This empire, his, empire is going to fall, apart, and any legacy my family ever had will  go up in flames! And who’s fucking fault will that be!? Huh? Not my brothers, Nothing’s ever his fault, how the hell does that work out!?” Your voice was hammering so hard in your chest it almost sounds as though your speaking straight into an industrial fan!

“ The one who fucked up everything gets to just ease by like nothing ever happened! Cause lord knows he’s too too damn much of a junkie to even tie his fuckin shoes nevertheless run the family business! It’s not that I didn't want this, I just don’t think I’m ready...nobody asked me if I was ready, my own fuckin brother never even offered to help like-I-fuck!” 

And now your crying again, great, great…..your first instinct was to get up, get away, move, break more shit I don’t know! Just anything, but sitting in this man’s lap, those assassin reflexes though, Hoseok caught your thigh before you could completely ease off the couch. Shifting your weight again, helping you pull out, you were far too gone to even react to the slight sting you should’ve felt. Slamming you back down so your hips were flush against his pelvic bone, holding you so your body hovered over him. You knew the position was so he could look straight through your damn soul but you couldn’t handle that right now….eyes fluttering down to your lap instead. 

“Y/n” No, he needed you to look at him, gently reaching down to cup your tear-stained face, eyes, and nose rivaling a blowfish!  

“And I say again…you don't have to do this alone anymore. I’m here for you, for you my baby, in any, and every way you need. You wanna regroup and brainstorm as to how I can help more let’s do it, if you need me on the field more let’s fuckin do it! Whatever you need to make this easier just tell me .” His pause was intentional holding your gaze, making sure you felt that. Allowing you to search his eyes for any hints of uncertainty that he already knew you’d never find. 

“And if you fall apart guess what!? I’ll be there to help put you back together time, and time again...and this empire will be fine. Stop, stop thinking everyone’s gonna leave you, you’ve been acting as your father’s second in command since you were 19! More importantly, you’ve been running shit with very little delegation for well over a year and if anything this operation flourished. Give yourself more credit, everyone here thinks highly of you, and not because they have too...it’s because your someone worth being admired. Regardless of how dirty our work may be, you and I both know there’s still a way to run this with some heir of dignity! “ 

Reaching up to grab you by the nape of your neck, bringing your forehead down to rest against his own...hoping it would ground you a little “You got this baby..and you got me...I’d burn down the world for you in a second if need be and you know it! Imma get you through this...I promise!”

You let your eyes flutter shut briefly, trying to calm down, you could feel him pressing light kisses against your tear stained cheeks and you couldn't help but smile. Yeah, it was small, definitely did not reach your eyes but it was something...

“I know we aren’t the most honorable people, and he won’t get some fuckin gold plaque like the Mayor when he dies but my dad was a very honorable man for the work he did. And I’ve always tried to do the same, I just..fuck I just want him to be proud of me….I mean at least that.”  Your face hurts you were trying so hard not to cry anymore, a shaky breath ghosting off your lips. 

“He’s already never gonna see me, grow old or walk down the aisle or-.fuck..”  Shit…Hoseok look’s utterlly terried as to where this is going....

“Fuck, he’s never gonna see me walk down the aisle one day” Eyes wide, panicked I guess this was the first time you’d had that thought...the first time you’re really thinking about all the things you’d have to do without him. You've always promised yourself that regardless of how crazy your world is...eventually once you're settled you’d stop denying your heart of its desires! 

Having someone to endlessly love and share this empire with is something you’ve always wanted...and something your father always told you, you deserved and would have one day! 

“Hes nev- holy shit what if I have ki-oh my god.” Every word felt as though it was strangling you, as it hiccups from your chest “ Oh. My. God ” Now this was a lot, this was pain strong enough to split you in half, all the thoughts you’d been avioding suddenly rushed to the surface! 

Your full blown sobbing into the side of his neck … and Hosoek’s heart hurts , fuck it hurts. slouching down into the couch, engulfing your body into his arms which only made you cry even harder. Ya know what makes it even worse? Is that there isn’t a damn thing he can do about this kinda pain. There’s no one he can shoot or stab to make it go away and it’s fucking gut-wrenching, as your body breaks apart above him . 

“Shhh,your okay baby, it’ll be okay….” Even Hoseok didn’t believe that, he didn’t have the slightest idea as to how he was going to get you through losing the first man you ever loved! But fuck if he wasn’t going to try! 

“Listen to me, stop, don’t do that to yourself” Gripping the sides of your face tight enough in his palms to force you ro focus on him and only him. “Let’s get you home alright? Will talk about work and all the other bullshit later you just need-”

“Y/n! Y/n!” 

Who the actual hell...

The sound of someone squawking your name like they’d lost their damn minds had both of you rerouting your attention. Completely shattering the moment causing your body to tense on command. Your brains been wired for so many years to just cut off emotions at the blink of an eye it almost happens on autopilot now! Zoning in on the chaos that appears to be unfolding outside your door and within seconds your pain becomes old news! Which is….just great for your mental health but carry on! 

You could hear your guards all standing outside the door trying to calm whoever this person is with a very clear death wish down. However, they didn’t seem to falter.

“Y/n, open the damn door now! This is serious you can’t just shut me out like this!!” 

But wait, wait, wait, random’s don’t just get acess into the compound so there’s only so many options…

Then, you start to recognize the tenor...and so does Hoseok, and he’s fucking livid. You could literally feel every muscle in his body tense from beneath you. Reaching down to snatch you off his lap, and tucking  himself back into his pants so damn fast you almost got whiplash. If he wasn’t soft before he definitely was now! 

“You’ve gotta be shitting me!” Striding over to your desk to grab your Glock34 from the drawer. 

“I fuckin told him not to come here today...” Growled through gritted teeth, as he reloaded your gun, spinning the barrel. 

Shit.

”Yn! YN! We need to talk about what’s going on with dad!” The slow-motion drawl said it all, he’s high as hell and it’s your fucking brother…

“Ohhh, he wants to talk about your father?!” Tone loud and Exaggeratedly cheerful as they leave his lips sing song esque “Of fucking course he does!” 

“Hoseok-” Yeah, this wasn’t ending well, swiftly readjusting your dress back around your thighs. Though your thighs felt like a damn slinky you still ran over to barricade yourself in front of the door! The door that your brother was still banging on like a fucking idiot!

“Jason. Leave!!!” Praying the distress resonated through the pans of marble, your just now realizing how gone your voice truly is, honestly you don’t even know if he heard you. But for his sake, you hope it did, because it Hoseok gets through this door...

“Nooo,Jason stay!” 

“Hoseok…” Bracing your hand firm against his chest, pushing him away from the door. The warning laced within your tone was clear as all hell, no matter how brittel it was .

“Nah, he wants to talk, let’s fuckin talk! He’s the last thing you need to be worrying about right now, considering he only gives a fuck about you when he’s tapped out of his monthly allowance! What? All of a sudden he cares so deeply about your father?” Brow arched knowingly “ Let him even fix his mouth to say the word “Will” and I will buss a cap so far up his asshole, he’ll cough out all the coke he’s been sniffin’!”

“Y/n, I can have him escorted-”

“One second Spade!” That mans been around since you were in middle school. You know the sound of his voice anywhere, yeah even muffled through a marble wall.

“Comere” Tone dropping to a purr, that you knew wans’t fair but fuck it, no matter how angry he’s on you in seconds, like I said...he can’t deny you anything. 

Leaning forward to wrap your arms around his waist and you can feel how tense his body is initially...yet he still instinctively lets his hands find their home right on the swell of your ass. The edge of the glock resting against your waist…..

 “Baby, I know your angry, and I know that’s mostly because of me, hell I was just chewing him out a second ago. But at the end of the day he is my brother and that is our dad...that’s damn near on a fuckin resperator. I know how to keep him at arms length... I don’t have the mental capacity for this right now. But, I’m gonna open that door, and see what the hell he wants, and I need you, for me...to just chill. If he gets outta line I’ll have him escorted out.”  He physically growled at that, Hoseok would much rather handle this on his own.

Leaning up to card your fingers through his hair, acting as if you didn't even notice his little tantrum “I really need you by my side tonight, and I need you to stay calm,because I’m far from it. Let’s hear him out and if he steps out of lines he’s out.” 

Wrapping his hand around the one you have laced within his hair “You already know I can’t say no to you!” He’s pissed about it too, long gone are the days when he could just do what he pleased regardless of who it affected. 

“But I swear to go Y/n, if and when he steps outta line-fuck-you just better make sure,  your boys are ready to throw his ass out ...because if I do it...he’s gonna end up in the ER for more than just wirthdrawls!”

`__________________________________________________

THAT’S ALLL SHE WROTE FOR NOW…KINDA I ALSO WROTE HALF OF PART TWO, SO IF YOU ENJOYED SHOW THIS SOME LOVE AND COME TALK TO ME! My GENERAL RULE OF THUMB IS AS LONG AS SOMETHING GETS AT LEATS 100 LIKES I’LL CONSIDERING ADDING TO IT DOWN THE LINE!

ALSO,  A LITTLE BONUS BECAUSE I DID MAP OUT THE FIRST 4 CHAPTERS BACK WHEN I WROTE THIS...

_________________________________________________________

It’s clear the OC’s brother will probably/definitely be an issue, in more ways then one! As well as her father is obviously going to die, like, within the first couple of chapters.

Her family’s association is called “Grim” and she’s commonly known as “The princess of the Grim clan”. 

There is a 2nd member set to be introduced in part 2 that will eventually work for the OC...hint it’s a makane! He tries to robe one of their local establishments and well...clearly that probably won’t end too well…

Jin is a mob associate...his family's Forbes ranked multi-million dollar empire was founded with blood money! Sooo, he’s a mutual between “Grim” and “The King Tapian’s”.

3 of the other members are in another association overseas called “The King Tapian’s”. A name she’s heard of, as they have one hell of a rep but they’ve never “officially” crossed paths. That is, until another death within the mob world which brings a new territory on the market! One that her fathers been eying for years over in Europe! (Another hint, they kinda join forces and eventually agree to co-inhabit the area in efforts to shove another “shysterier” gang out, which in turn starts a little war if you will!) The other members would be a sub-focus however It was undecided as to how big of a part they’d all play!

 Lastly, the final member is a freelance hacker/hitman that knows Hoseok very well, so much so the pair used to fool around back in the day so yes that would make him BI! 

I was also undecided if I wanted to incorporate another member sexually or not...as I’d dabbled with the idea of them being in an open relationship! There was also the possibility of making the “King Tapian” Boys lowkey poly! Either solely male on male or maybe throw in the idea of a minor female character who i’d name so there’s no confusion! 

The overall gist of the story was essentially the OC finding her footing after her father dies. Making her own path as one of the only women in charge on the black market! While also creating some allies and gaining of course some enemies along the way! Regardless this would also be a Hoseok centered series with the possibility of semi regular OT7 guest appearances!

  Love you as always,

Rocki,

[starryhanji]

dear diary - h.hj : part one

summary: being a new student is hard. lucky for you, everyone at this school is so nice. well, almost everyone.

pairings: stoner!hwang hyunjin x new kid!reader ft. athlete!na jaemin x o/c more pairings in the future

warnings: high school!au, inappropriate language, underage smoking, underage drinking, mentions of sex(in future chapters)

DISCLAIMER: i do not condone underage drinking or smoking, this is just for the story.

prev | next

dear diary, please why don’t people read instructions?

“y/n!” your eyes light up as you catch sight of your best friend, hana, and her boyfriend, jaemin. both were waiting for you at your locker as usual. it’s only been a week since you’ve moved here and so far you’ve loved it more than any other school you’ve been to.

“good morning guys!” you smile, trying the combo for your lock a few times, finally getting it on the third try. you pull off your simple jean jacket, decorated with patches of all sorts, along with your scarf and hat.

“i heard we have a lab today!” hana says as you close your locker, picking your backpack up off the ground and swinging it back onto your shoulders.

“i hope mr. park will let us be partners again.” you sigh, just as excited as she visually is.

“oh, uh about that.” jaemin starts, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish look. you and hana exchange worrisome looks. jaemin’s chem class is by far the worst class mr. park has. from what you’ve heard, that class is very problematic.

“what did your class do this time?” you ask, folding your arms over your chest as you lean against your locker.

“haechan didn’t read the instructions properly. again.” jaemin explains. “the lecture we got from mr. park was the longest one yet.” the person chris is talking about is lee haechan, the star basketball player with a beautiful voice. you’ve heard him sing once and it was so mesmerizing. he is quite clumsy though and isn’t the best at chemistry or reading instructions.

“why am i not surprised?” hana groans, rubbing her eye with her palm.

“yeah so i think you’re getting assigned partners now.” jaemin replies and your shoulders slouch. despite managing to make two new amazing friends on your first day here, you didn’t have the best luck the rest of the week. you have a few new class friends, by that you mean you only really talk to them in class.

“this is going to suck.” hana complains, jaemin gives her an apologetic look as he pulls her into a hug.

“jaemin i hate your class.” you retort and he pulls you into a hug as well. you pull away as the four signature yet highly annoying bells signaled the start of passing period, you give a warning look to chris. “if i have a really mean partner or one who doesn’t do any work, you owe me lunch.”

“same goes for me!” hana adds, her words slightly contradicting her sweet kiss that she placed on his cheek. you and hana join into the sea of students, separating with jaemin as he heads to his own class. still not fully knowing the school, you let hana lead the way. downstairs and to the left, down a few classrooms to room 105, you try to keep that pattern in your head but you’re honestly just going to forget it again.

“did you do the prelab homework?” hana whispers as you both take your seats, hana in front of you.

“yeah, i finished it in class yesterday.” you reply, pulling your purple folder out and opening it.

“same.” she smiles, pulling out her own folder. “i’d be relieved if i knew we were partners.”

“me too.” you sigh, letting your chin rest on your open palm, supported by your elbow on the desk.

“due to quite an incident that happened yesterday, i have decided to assign you all lab partners.” mr. park announces earning a series of groans from you, hana and your fellow classmates. “it won’t be that bad. don’t go to your station until i am done.”

“we’re screwed.” you whisper to hana who nods as you watch mr. park pick up a clip board and make his way to the first lab station.

“at this station is felix and chaerin. across from them is hana and jihyo.” all your hope shrivels away as you hear hana’s name get called. mr. park continues and you only partially listen, waiting for your own name. “here is y/n and hyunjin.”

there it is. a guy you don’t even know. while you wait for mr. park to finish, you scan the class for who you guess hyunjin would be.

hana turns around in her seat to face you, her face full of remorse. “i’m sorry about your partner.”

you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, before you can say anything, however, mr. park announces that we can go to our lab stations now. you stood up, clutching a paper and pencil in your hands. you reach your lab station, placing your pencil and paper down before opening the cabinet under drawer, pulling out two aprons. you pull yours over your head. you watch a hand grab the other apron as you tie yours behind your back. so that’s hyunjin, tall, well built, pretty. you examine his features as he puts his apron on. full lips, clear skin, cute little mole under his left eye. he’s attractive.

“uh. hi.” you greet, awkwardly as you grab your pair of goggles. “i’m y/n.”

hyunjin meets your gaze, his eyes were a warm brown and red. he smiles faintly as if he wasn’t fully here on earth like the rest of us. “sup.”

suddenly you understood why hana apologized about having him as a partner, the smell radiated off him and you couldn’t put your finger on what it was until now.

you knew you were going to have to do this lab on your own because hyunjin, your lab partner, was stoned.

dear diary, chemistry is suddenly my least favorite subject.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

after-after party

word count: 4.7k

content: smug harry, banter, and softcore smut (a handjob but a pretty decent handjob hehee)

///

Y/N can tell he’s struggling to get back on his feet. After getting that shit-faced, it’s practically a miracle he made it up the stairs to his condo without getting intimate with the floor. “Thank you.”

Harry nods robotically, tense shoulders drawing in again as he crosses his arms just below the curve of his kneecaps, back hunching forward a bit further than before. His forehead plops down against his forearms, temples pulsing in pain at the smallest motion. “God, I’m never drinking again.” Y/N scoffs in amusement, shaking her head lightly. “That’s what you said last time...and the time before that.” “Well, this time I mean it.” “You said that, too.” Harry cranes his stiff neck to face her, hair flopping over to the opposite side as he narrows his eyes pointedly. “You’re not helping here, love.” “You deserve some scolding.” She reasons with a dismissive shrug of her brows, popping open the cap of the plastic bottle and spilling a decent amount of transparent, sunflower-yellow goo into the palm of her hand. He sighs shakily and releases a boyish laugh. “I suppose I do.”

or Harry’s a hungover mess post-Met Gala and Y/N’s his helping hand (in more than a metaphorical sense)

///

Harry didn’t think he was that drunk.

Despite only having been able to see somewhat clearly from one eye, not having any feeling on the left side of his face, the absence of sturdiness in his knees, and the dead weight of what he assumed to be his tongue choking him anytime he tried to talk, he still hadn’t thought he was that drunk.

Maybe fifty percent drunk, at most.

That percentage rose a few notches when he had arrived home, half-stumbling and half-waddling into his and Y/N’s bedroom to come upon her watching a rerun of one of the Avengers movies.

That number had then risen slowly, and then all at once.

It begun nudging upward after he greeted his girlfriend. The words that had sewn together in his syrupy mind had been something along the lines of, “Hi, darling. How’s the movie?”

What came out of his mouth was a slurred, garbled mess of syllables and noises that sounded like he was gargling nuts and bolts.

His self-recognized drunk percentage teetered higher when he tried to initiate a bit of a Met Gala after-after party.

As he remembers it, Harry begun by sitting on the edge of the bed and oh-so gracefully sliding himself up beside Y/N, draping an arm across her hip as he pressed a soft kiss to the back of her neck, right on the spot that is usually the kill-switch to making her cum.

But according to Y/N’s retelling of the situation, Harry had instead tripped over his shiny, jet-black heeled boots, landed like a punching bag right on top of her, and then proceeded to drool onto the side of her neck while trying to push himself up onto his elbows (“quite unsuccessfully,” she adds).

But the event that had skyrocketed his awareness of just how utterly, embarrassingly sloshed he had truly been was something both of them recalled rather explicitly.

Apparently, Y/N’s insistent badgering and deflections of his suggestive touches hadn’t been enough for Harry. She had been adamant on how hammered he was and he had kept dismissing her, saying that he wasn’t that bad off and that, “I’m sober enough to make you cum!”

But he was quickly shut down, betrayed by his own body. In a spur of movement in which he had stalked around the room trying to prove his sobriety to Y/N, his stomach had given an angry lurch at the abrupt disturbance and decided to put a stop to his antics with the reappearance of the two grilled cheese sandwiches he’d had an hour prior.

Then to finish off his ridiculous circus act, his knees agreed to fully give out, resulting in Harry crumpling to the ground like rag doll.

That is the last of what he remembers— keeling over and puking all over his new vintage Indonesian rug, and then face-planting the puddle.

Saying he’s disgusted with himself is an understatement. At this point, it’s edging more towards absolute self-loathing because he not only made a complete fool of himself, but had then condemned Y/N to clean up the mess. All at four in the fucking morning.

Not to mention the collateral damage— his outfit.

Unless he can convince the world that a giant milky patch of half-digested cheese and tequila is the newest fashion rave, Alessandro was going to kill him. And then Harry Lambert was going to dance on his grave.

The dry-cleaners will have to work a bloody miracle.

Now, eight hours later, he sits bare in his large marble bathtub, legs drawn up to his chest with his back hunched slightly forward as Y/N uses the detachable shower head to rinse out his hair.

He’s trying awfully hard to ignore the hollow thumping of his heartbeat slamming against the inside of his skull, closing his eyes tightly and taking in deep, penetrating breaths that taste faintly of lemon vodka and heavily of regret. He shouldn’t have gone so hard, so fast. It was borderline moronic.

After he knocked out onto the ground, Y/N— an angel in the flesh— had picked him up and settled him into the bed, striping him down to his briefs and wiping him clean with a wet towel as best as she could while he blabbed unconscious nonsense about what colors he’d picked for his nails and how the bow tie he’d worn made him look like Mickey Mouse.

She’d had to work fast with the rug and managed to get out the stain after a load of scrubbing and a whole bottle of Bissell carpet cleaner. By the time she extended the ornament out over the edge of the balcony to dry, it was ten minutes past five in the morning and her arms were limp as noodles.

Y/N was too exhausted to drag Harry out of bed and into the shower then, so she had just called it quits and would worry about the damage control in the morning. It’s not like he couldn’t afford new sheets.

Her voice fishes him out of his dazed thoughts, the alcohol trip corrupting her gentle words into dull gritting and popping sounds that cause him to instinctually wince. He turns his chin slightly more towards her, streams of the bathroom’s bright white lights forcing their way past the strings of dark hair covering his eyes and stinging his vision.

“What was that?” His own voice comes out as a low, jumbled rasp. 

Y/N coasts her fingers into his sopping wet roots, gently massaging his scalp and the shell of his ears before carefully pulling back the curtain of wet hair hiding away his face. “I said, ‘pass me the shampoo, please.’”

“Oh...” Harry stretches out a rusty arm, his joints cracking in defiance. Opening his fingers feels like trying to pry open a set of metal doors, and carrying the small Bumble and Bumble shampoo bottle back towards his girlfriend’s awaiting grasp feels like taking on a hundred pound weight. “Here y’go.” 

Y/N can tell he’s struggling to get back on his feet. After getting that shit-faced, it’s practically a miracle he made it up the stairs to his condo without getting intimate with the floor. “Thank you.” 

Harry nods robotically, tense shoulders drawing in again as he crosses his arms just below the curve of his kneecaps, back hunching forward a bit further than before. His forehead plops down against his forearms, temples pulsing in pain at the smallest motion. “God, I’m never drinking again.” Y/N scoffs in amusement, shaking her head lightly. “That’s what you said last time...and the time before that.” “Well, this time I mean it.” “You said that, too.” Harry cranes his stiff neck to face her, hair flopping over to the opposite side as he narrows his eyes pointedly. “You’re not helping here, love.” “You deserve some scolding.” She reasons with a dismissive shrug of her brows, popping open the cap of the plastic bottle and spilling a decent amount of transparent, sunflower-yellow goo into the palm of her hand. He sighs shakily and releases a boyish laugh. “I suppose I do.” Y/N starts working her digits through his matted locks, watching suds build up over the natural amber highlights strewn across the woodsy brown. The familiar scent of chamomile fills her lungs as well as his and they both take it in like a warm hug, laughing gently at the deep breaths they’d inhaled in unison. A honeyed, almost inaudible mumble catches her ears all of the sudden. “Thank you.” She glances down from where her gaze was focused on watching her fingers work around the little spiral from which his hair sprouts atop his head, catching her boyfriend’s stare. Harry’s looking at her over his naked broad shoulder, faintly-stubbled chin pressed against the cursive “g” tattoo he has for his sister. His forearms flex as he tightens them around his knees, shifting over just a smidge more towards her so he does not have to strain his neck as much. 

His muted jade eyes hold a awed, tender demeanor— one that communicates how grateful he is to have her here helping him. 

Y/N’s lips twitch with a small caring smile. “Of course, sweetheart. Anytime.” 

She pauses her movements for a second, fingers staying perched on his scalp before she sways her head from side to side, mulling her statement over, and then scrunches up her nose in an afterthought. “Just not all the time, yeah?” 

Harry snorts himself into a wave of bellyful laughter, lips spreading into a delighted grin against the skin of his shoulder. His eyes crinkle at the edges, the two little moles on the side of his chin twitching. “I promise I’ll keep myself in check.” 

“You better.” Y/N states in a cautionary tone, yanking at his bubbly curls in a playful warning. A low hiss streams from his tinted lips as his head is snaps backwards, one eye winking shut at the faint pain. He slowly lulls his head forward again, letting it hang for a moment before looking back at her over his shoulder. “I actually quite liked that.” He murmurs in a sultry tone, shrugging his eyebrows suggestively and hiding a lascivious smirk by pressing it into his damp skin. “Might have to be more reckless just to get some more of that.” Y/N huffs, quirking one of her brows ominously while turning on the shower-head and clicking it into the pulse setting. “Won’t be that gentle.” “Oh, I’m praying for it, pet.” Her eyes give a quick flash upwards to lock with his as they sheen a bright juniper green to emphasize his cocky challenge, the glossiness of his irises dancing with the fluorescent lights of the washroom. “Just shut up and move over here so I can rinse you out.” “Yes, ma’am.” There’s an unmistakable arrogance to the snarky remark.    The sounds of his skin rubbing against the surface of the elegant tub bounce off the walls of the room as Harry shifts onto his knees and rectifies his back, turning side to side from the waist up in order to work out the knot at the bottom of his spine. Y/N pretends to be fiddling with the temperature knob to avoid looking below the curve of his bare hip. He moves closer to the edge, pressing the palms of his hands down against the rim with the intention of showing off by flexing his arm muscles. He tilts his head to the side expectantly, eyes half-lidded with a type of self-assured smugness that grates her nerves in unexplainably tempting ways. Y/N scoots closer on the porcelain toilet cover, pushing his hair back as it limps over his forehead, wiping suds away before they get in his eyes. She lifts the hose and rids his chest of bubbles, well aware of her fingertips dragging over the slippery silkiness of his skin as they pass over the wings of his bird tattoos and tickle the antennas of the butterfly on his tummy.   Harry’s voice comes out in the form of a melodic hum, with an undertone that hints at a moan. “I like it when you take care of me.”    Y/N keeps herself focused as the water washes away the soap from his collarbones and neck. The puff of his velvet words is warm against her left temple. “I like it when you baby me like this. Love it, actually.” She washes down his shoulders and arms, palm following suit to make sure everything goes down the drain— the sweat, body wash, alcohol, and— just maybe— her inhibitions. “Get down.” The phrase is a simple command so she can rinse his hair without making a mess of the floor, but it’s strained with something else. She’s barely holding herself together, but wants to make him work for it. Harry teeters forward on his palms, warm nose bumping her’s and tracing down her sensitive jaw, resulting in her thighs clenching. He gazes up at her with owlish, innocent eyes clouded with lustful neediness and a dab of that post-drunken egoism which tends to adhere to him. “You want me to go all the way down?” His response holds anything but the literal meaning, and she knows it. He definitely knows it, seen in the way a simper ghosts over his puffy lips. Y/N dismantles his advance. “Just a little so I can wash your hair.” Harry’s shoulders droop, pout evident as he obeys. “You’re no fun.” Her throat thrums with an entertained laugh as she douses his curls thoroughly, finger-combing the shampoo out of them. “I’m plenty fun. Just not when you’re hungover.” “I’m not even that hungover!” Harry argues adamantly, rolling his slightly bloodshot eyes. “You literally almost dropped the shampoo bottle, H. You’re very hungover.” 

“That’s in the past!”

“That was five minutes ago!”

“And now I’m a changed man.”

Y/N’s laughing freely now as she finishes up getting him nice and clean, turning off the faucet and hanging the shower-head on its designated metal hook. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Focus yourself a little more and I definitely believe you’ll find something hard.”

“God, you’re so crude.” Y/N exclaims, crossing her arms incredulously. “Why do you get so fucking horny when you’re hungover, huh? Normal people get grouchy and don’t leave the bed all day. You get a hard-on and three times your usual stamina. You’ve got to get that checked.” 

“I just bounce back faster than everyone else. I tend not to question that gift.” 

“Well, you marinate in that gift and finish washing up everything else while I go get you a warm towel from the dryer.” Y/N goes to stand up, but is halted by Harry phasing her out to it.

He’s upright on his knees in an instant, big hand wrapped around her wrist as his eyes crackle with stubborn persistence. “No, you’re going to strip off your pajama shorts and sit on my cock.” 

She drags her sight down his wet body, taking in the way his tattoos glint under the lightning of the bathroom, the droplets of water rubbing down his muscles enticing her to feel them against her skin. A little further down, she follows his happy trail down from his belly button to the dip of his pelvic bones to the base of his cock, where it’s covered with neatly trimmed coarse dark hair. That’s all she can see before the side of the black glossy bathtub cuts off her view, but she can tell he’s hard by the way his abdomen tints red and tightens under her intense gaze. 

Y/N lets out a quick sigh, turning back to face him fully and putting on her most authoritative voice. “Fine, we’ll make a deal. I give you a handie, you finish washing up and let me dry and dress you. Then we’ll get some food in your stomach and then...we’ll see. Sound like a bargain?” 

Harry’s quick to agree, releasing her hand and scrambling to get some traction in the slippery shower. He’ll take anything to get rid of the raging boner pressing against the side of the cold tub. “Yes, deal. Deal, deal, deal.”

“Good. Alright, up then. Where’s the lube?” 

“Bottom drawer on the right.” 

In a few seconds, Y/N is pressed up against Harry’s body (trying to ignore the fact that he’s getting her pajamas wet) as he stands inside the tub, her hand jerking him off firm and steady whilst her lips seer dirty promises into the pounding pulse of his neck. 

“Fuck, you’re hard.” Her astonished whisper is hot again his throat, mouth grazing his Adam’s Apple as she swipes her thumb over his leaking tip, massaging small circles all around the head, just how he likes it. He’s all shades of dark red, light violet, and faint blue, not to mention veiny.  “T-Told you.” Harry’s voice is tight with pent up sexual desperation, one hand reaching above to grip the pole that holds the shower curtain as the other finds a spot on the glittery tiled wall. Y/N’s hand wanders down lower, scooping his balls and rolling them around her fingers, feeling out how swollen they are. “And you’re full, too.” She teases under her breath, trailing little kisses up the center of Harry’s throat and across his chin. “Heavy.” All Harry can do is nod his head feverishly and try to tame his bucking hips, eyelids melting shut as he attempts to reign in some form of composure. Y/N tuts in a jesting manner, nibbling on the spot just below his ear, making sure to avoid his fresh piercing. “You poor baby... How long have you been like this?” Harry swallows thickly, eyes flickering open only to be matched with her plump, mocking pout and taunting stare. His words are glue in his throat as he forces them out. “S’been bubbling in the pit of my stomach since I got home. Started to boil over when you kept scratching at my scalp and massaging my ears.” Y/N gives his thick cock a rough tug, drawing a broken yelp from his vocal chords, accompanied by a soft, shaky, “Fuck, s’good...” “You’re like a teenager— wanna bang all the time.” Y/N smirks in amused disbelief, marking a love bite onto the curve where his neck meets his shoulder. Harry tilts his chin down to lock eyes with her, blinking sluggishly as his lips tremble with desire. His voice is tender and sheepish as he speaks, almost as if he’s afraid of getting chastised. “Is it so bad that I need you that way?” Y/N watches as he ducks down and knits their mouths together, tasting burning longing spill over her tongue. Her face stings. “Is...” Harry’s slick locks dangle over his sparkling darkened eyes, tickling the tops of her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose as he suckles her bottom lip almost frantically. “Is it so bad that I like feeling you all snug around me while I whimper into your mouth?”

“Suppose s’not.” Y/N reaches up and winds a fistful of his damp hair around her fist, bringing him in for a kiss so deep, it leaves her gasping for air. He tastes like lemon vodka and intoxicating eagerness. Harry, being the little shit that he is, pulls back from the kiss until only his Cupid’s Bow is brushing over her’s, edges of his lips jolting intp an open-mouthed cheeky grin. She tries to go back in but he yanks himself just far enough that their skin barely touches. He wobbles his head in a shake, chuckling smugly. “S’what you get for slut-shaming me.” “You do realize I have your cock in my hand, right?” Y/N grits out, eyes zoned in on his plush, pink mouth, wanting it back on her’s immediately.    “Yeah, but we had a deal, remember? You have to make me cum. Means I can have a little fun, if I want to.” “Also means I can edge you until you’re begging for it.” She counters swiftly. Harry takes his lower lip beneath his two front teeth, denying her point with a low, “mm-mm.” “What’s that?” Y/N twists her wrist and thrives at the way his breathing hitches. “You wouldn’t do that to me. I’m a poor, hungover baby, remember?” He’s pulling every string like it’s his job, batting his long lashes and daring her to be cruel. “Asshole.”   “I prefer you play with my cock instead, but to each their own.” Y/N picks up her pace, focusing on long, quick strokes. Each time she reaches the base, she twists, and every time she reaches the head, she squeezes right below it. The new rhythm has the railing above their heads creaking under Harry’s strength. She trails her mouth across the 1957 tattoo imprinted into the dip of his right collarbone, staining the ink maroon with her teeth. His chest is heaving excessively, almost enough that she thinks the swallow tattoos might catch flight. He’s making tiny, cracked whines in the back of his throat, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching so tight she can see the bone structure shifting. Y/N sinks her teeth into the hard knot of muscle on his shoulder, basking in the labored little, “Fucking hell...” Harry squeezes out.

When she pulls back, the ring of teeth marks is already a deep purple-red, leaving behind a memory of the Met Gala that he’ll have on him for weeks. The fist Harry has against the wall had fallen numb from how hard he’s pressing into the smooth surface, knuckles white with exertion and wrist quivering under his vigor. His entire arm is flexing, veins chiseling in and out of view as Y/N phantoms her fingers down the center of his forearm, following the seems. The hand working his cock hasn’t lighted up one bit. “Are you gonna cum for me?” Her gaze flickers from his body to his eyes, lashes fluttering luringly. The pole holding the shower curtain groans. “Fuck, yes.”   Her mouth sneaks its way into the curve behind his ear, blowing warm air across one of his soft spots and kissing it slow and sensually. “Gonna make a mess for me?” Harry’s head lulls back into the palm of her hand, throat straining with the weight. His eyes fall shut, jaw unhinging a bit as to let a low rumble loose. “Y-Yeah— wanna...wanna show you how good you make me feel.” The water streaming down from his hair—across his ears and down the back of his neck— feels like her caressing touch and it sends his nerves knee-deep into a frenzy. Y/N moves her exasperatingly sweet lips over the exposed center of his jugular, humming a gentle giggle as she sponges a trail of wet pecks down from the area just beneath his jaw to the dip of his chest. Every brush of her mouth is like a grenade going off, burying him further beneath a mound of pleasure that he knows will blow any second. Harry’s locked in place, legs stiff enough to keep him from collapsing on to the floor of the tub. All of his energy is concentrated at the pit of his tummy, radiating a type of boiling warmth that is becoming too much to bear. He can feel his eyes have rolled back into his head, composure too gone for him to even attempt to chain himself back down. His words feel detached from his mind, mouth moving on its own as he begs and pleads for her to finish him off. His keens and whimpers fill the echoey tiled room and there’s a certain tension in the air that simulates the pin to a bomb. All Harry’s body is waiting for— jittering with bottled up euphoria— is for Y/N to pull it. What she says next sets him off. 

“The sooner you cum, the sooner you’ll get to feel me bounce on your cock.” 

Just as the words finishing sliding down Y/N’s tongue, she feels his cock give a foreshadowing twitch in her cupped fingers, and then a sudden warmth erupts across the thigh she has propped between his knees. The ball at the bottom of his stomach bursts in a kaleidoscope of colors behind his eyes, dissolving into chords of lightning that bristle along every nerve ending under his skin, from the heels of his feet to the tips of his fingers to the curve of his ears. All sound around him goes warbley for a millisecond, and when his eardrums come to, the first noise caught is Y/N’s voice full of angry annoyance. “I meant make a mess of yourself, not me!” Harry splutters into a round of drunken, spaced-out laughter as he swings his head back forward, cheeks tinted a gentle rose, eyes scrunching with amusement. His tone is playfully defensive. “You said to cum and I did!” “You’re lucky I’m wearing shorts...” She grumbles, jerking her hand away from where her fingers are tangled into the locks behind his head. His hair is somewhat dry already, the definition of his natural curls surfacing, bouncing lightly as his shoulders shake with glee.   Y/N folds out a neat wad of toilet paper and scrubs the milky substance from her thigh, chucking it into the trash bin and throwing him a glare. “Gross.” “Oh, shut up!” Harry uncurls his stiff fingers from the curtain pole above his head and dramatically sweeps his other hand from the wall, letting both arms fall crossed before his naked chest— which is still somewhat heaving. He cocks his head to the side, eyes reflecting slyness as he gives her an arrogant side-smirk. “I don’t see you complaining when you’re begging for it down your throat.” She ignores his sarcastic (although accurate) dig, socking him straight on the “a” tattoo on his left shoulder. “I fucking hate you.” “You fucking love me, babe. You’re just mad ‘cause I’m telling the truth about how much of a little cock-slut you can be.” Y/N turns on her heels, bracing the burning in her cheeks. “Just finish washing up.” Harry reaches forward and tugs her into his open arms, kissing down her neck and all over the side of her face, chuckling at how warm her skin is. “You know I’m just teasin’, pet!”

“You’re still an dick for it.” She refuses to give him the response he wants, fighting off his contagious smile. “I thought you liked being called a ‘cock-slut’?!” He exclaims in faux shock, smushing her further into his embrace and stretching his neck forward to catch her nose with his pecking lips, feeling her trying to hold back a grin. “What about ‘cum-whore’? Is that better?’   She breaks out into full laughter. “You’re so annoying.” Harry sugars his voice into a babyish drawl, running his fingers down her sides and giggling boyishly as she squirms. “S’only cause I love you so much.” Y/N manages to break free, holding her arms out in front of her as a protective barrier to block another possible tickle attack. “Okay, okay! That’s enough!“ Harry wiggles his fingers dangerously, shrugging his brows. “Or is ittttt?” “No!” Y/N points at him warningly as he goes to exit the tub. “Get back in and finish your shower before you get a soap rash.” He rolls his eyes grandly, arms dropping to his sides. “Fine, mum.” The command was more to save herself than for his well-being, but it seems to have worked out for both of them so she won’t question her motives. “Can’t believe you actually listened for once.” She mocks, pulling the curtain closed as Harry turns on the faucet. He sticks his head out, smiling at her fondly and batting his lashes innocently. “It’s cause I want pancakes, pleaseeee.” Y/N reaches out and shoves his head back in. “That can be arranged.” He pokes it out again with an even bigger, exaggerated expression. “With blueberries.” She pushes him back in. “Fine.” Harry yells over the sound of the water. “And an omelet!” “Okay, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

[sourwolfstories]

Hey! Can you rec some sterek soulmate! Fics pls? Thank you so much

Marked by Verya

The name of a person’s soulmate appears on their skin, in that person’s handwriting, at the age of twenty. Derek has been wondering for the past several years, what kind of name is Mieczyslaw?

Body Language by LadyMerlin

In an alternate universe, soulmates exist, and they can communicate with each other by writing on their own skin.

The catch? No one knows their soulmates’ name. It could literally be anyone under the sun, and Stiles just doesn’t have that kind of patience.

Ink Me by AsagiStilinski

Derek is never going to find his soulmate, because there’s no way in hell there exists a man named Mieczyslaw in Beacon Hills

Then Erica hires Stiles

Beat by Kalira

Derek’s heartsong isn’t quite normal, but he’s always loved the drumming beat that winds through his dreams. He didn’t expect to find that its origin, his other half, has been waiting right in front of him.

Accidents Happen by pyrrhical (anoyo)

Settling a soul bond was exactly as romantic as the movies made it seem: a simple kiss.

As it so happened, CPR worked, too.

Fate Thinks It’s Funny by AsagiStilinski

In a world where everyone has their soulmate’s first words to them printed on their wrists, Derek and Stiles end up with some of the worst: “Oh God please help” and “Derek” respectively

To be fair, their first meeting is almost as ridiculous as it sounds like it would be

Take My Mind, Take My Pain by LessonsFromMoths

Soulmate AU where you have a black stain where your soulmate is supposed to touch you for the first time and it turns to millions of colors once they do.Stiles was born with a very visible black palm on his cheek.

Three Marks by sanam

“And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off—And suddenly it was done.Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt.”

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

In Name Only by Cobrilee

In a world where no one finds out who their soulmate is until after they get married, Stiles concocts the perfect scheme: marry his long-time client, Derek Hale…

You know. Just to find out who he should be marrying.

There’s no way this could go wrong.

Yeah, Pass The Salt, Stiles by CallieB

Yeah, pass the salt, Stiles.

They’re not particularly inspiring words. Not like the long stream of goo spilling over Scotty’s arm. But somewhere, Stiles’ soulmate is out there, waiting to say them to him.

If only he could stop thinking about the mysterious hot stranger he met in the woods.

A Second Chance at First Impressions by Cobrilee

Derek grew up with the world’s most embarrassing soulmark, which is honestly not the best first impression his soulmate could make. Then he meets the guy, and all of a sudden the soulmark doesn’t matter quite so much after all.

spice up your life! by callunavulgari

“I said,” the girl drawls, setting her elbow down in a saucer of ketchup and grimacing. “That this whole soulmate thing is fucking stupid. You’re supposed to find someone based off of the music they’re listening to? How would you even know what was really stuck in your head and what was in theirs? It’s complete shit.”

Derek, who has had everything from Dancing Queen to the Barney theme song stuck in his head all night, winces, and says abruptly, “I think my soulmate is in middle school.”

Secondhand Soulmate by AnnoyinglyCute, Inell

Not always, not even most of the time, but sometimes – 24% of the time, statistically speaking – people meet their soulmates and live happily ever after.

THIS isn’t that story.

This is the story of Stiles Stilinski, whose soulmate died before he was born. This is the story of all the sorrows and heartache Stiles experienced, all the bullying and oppression from those who should know better but didn’t. This is also the story of the friendships Stiles made along the way, of the battles he fought – and won – and the love that endured through it all.

I Was Present While You Were Unconscious by CharWright5

Stiles had often thought about how he’d meet his soul mate, the literal muscular man of his dreams. He just didn’t ever imagine finding him on Facebook where a friend had shared a news article about a werewolf John Doe in a coma after a car wreck four hours out of town. And he also didn’t expect to bond and fall in love with the guy’s family before ever saying two words to him out loud.

Written in the Stars by Quixoticity

Derek Hale is a lucky guy. He’s got a great family, good friends, and a fulfilling job as a tattoo artist.

He’s also one of the twenty-five per cent of the population born with a soul mark.

He likes his life, but he’s waiting for his soul-match. The odds of meeting them aren’t great but hey, Derek’s a lucky guy. He has faith.

He can’t believe how good his luck really is when one day his soul-match wanders right into his studio, all long limbs and copper eyes. There’s just one problem: Stiles is there to get his soul mark covered up. Permanently.

94%, Dude by eeyore9990

The guy was really too young for the leather daddy aesthetic, but with the leather and the more-beard-than stubble and the eyebrows… Yeah, he was kinda working the hot grumpy leather daddy biker gang leader look.

And Stiles liked it.

***

For the prompt: Sterek soul mark fic wherein marks never match, they just line up perfectly to be a shape.

Marks and Mics by DLanaDHZ

Hale siblings Derek and Laura have been hired to run security for Stiles Stilinski’s music tour. Business as usual, except someone is trying really hard to prove they’re incapable and hurt Stiles. Derek finds himself curious about Stiles’ bitter attitude and a strange illness that plagues the singer. And on top of that, Derek’s soulmate remains elusive.

Worth Waiting For by yodasyoyo

Stiles slumps further in his desk chair, and stares disconsolately out of his bedroom window. Perhaps he should be celebrating. After all, this afternoon a soulmark appeared on his wrist revealing the name of his soulmate.

He has a soulmate.

Fuck. He scrubs one hand across his face.

This is a disaster.

Covered in Fur and (Your) Words by OverMyFreckledBody

People that said that the words on your skin - the first ones from your soulmate - didn’t matter or affect your life were big fat liars. Stiles is one hundred percent sure he wouldn’t have started creating costumes if it weren’t for the words What the hell kind of costume is that? on his arm. He’s also sure that if he never got into the hobby, he would never have met the man who said them.

Model Material by dobrien

Prompt: Soulmates AU where any tattoos one half of the soulmate pairing get show up on the other person’s body. Can be taken in any direction the author wants but no suicide etc.Model/Soulmate AU: Stiles finds out who his soulmate is and he’s willing to do what it takes to meet them, even if that means becoming a model for Alpha Fashion Magazine.

The Possibility of Silence and the Reality of Sound by crossroadswrite

Derek grew up knowing that soulmates are something to be cherished, so when he got a voice in his head, childish thoughts and flashes of color and objects, he’d excitedly jumped on his mother’s bed to tell her. She had smiled, ruffled his hair and told him how she was proud of him, even though Derek hadn’t really done anything.

I’m Lost In You by matildajones

He knows he should move but a part of him still feels paralyzed. He has clear feelings of not being able to move his body, of not being able to even blink.

“Oh my god,” Stiles says, and he clambers to his feet, feeling dizzy. He easily finds a mirror in the room and then the most gorgeous eyes stare back at him. They’re a sea-green instead of the normal brown that he’s used to.

He’s looking at his soulmate.

–

Stiles wakes up in his soulmate’s body, on his twenty-second birthday, with blurry memories of the past year. Derek doesn’t wake up at all.

There’s a cup with his name on it by hellodickspeight

The sight before him is breathtaking. Wide opened whiskey eyes searching above his head, pink lips slightly parted, tongue wetting them as he considers his choice, messy brown hair sticking in every direction, moles dotting a pale skin, Derek can’t wait to ask for his name.

A soulmate AU where people have the first name of their soulmates written on their body.

Of Soulmates, Pseudonyms and Misunderstandings by halcyon1993

Ever since he asked his mother one evening why she had his dad’s name tattooed on the inside of her left wrist, Derek has dreamed of finding his soulmate. There’s only one problem—the name that appears on his wrist on his eighteenth birthday is something he can’t even read.

Soul-Mark by PaigeRhiann

His wolf purrs happily because it has taken eighteen years and getting his family killed to finally discover the name of his promised. The person he’s destined to be with. Or, as Werewolves call it – Mate.

“Genim S.” He repeats

“That’s a really fucking weird name” Laura snorts, turning back to the movie.

“Yeah, it is” he nods.

Connected by readridinghood

After the death of his wife, Stiles finds himself left alone with their three children, struggling to keep from being sucked into a void of grief and despair that her death left him with. Knowing his children are safe in the pack’s arms under Derek’s watchful eyes, he struggles to regain his footing. What do you do when the world keeps tumbling over you and what you’ve thought of as fact no longer holds true? As the world comes back into focus, so does the love for Derek he thought he’d long since conquered and now with his eyes open, what he thought was the end of him, is only a new beginning.A decade after he fell in love with Stiles, countless days of keeping himself restrained while building a friendship with him, Derek finds out with absolute certainty that Stiles is his mate. You only mate once in your life, so how is it that Stiles was mated to Sophia, his wife and mother of his three children, the woman he is grieving the loss of at the same moment that Derek makes his discovery.

An Unpredictable Amount of Turtles by skoosiepants

Stiles says, “I have a five year plan. A five year plan to popularity that will tank the minute I meet this guy.”

“I feel like you’re exaggerating,” Scott says, but Scott has a katana-wielding badass waiting for him at the other end of the rainbow, and Stiles has terrariums.

Or—

A soulmate au with turtles and angst.

Soul McMates by distortedreality

The black script magically inked onto Stiles’ skin at birth declares that the first thing he’ll say to his soulmate is “welcome to McDonalds, how may I help you”.

Stiles’ life was clearly destined to be a fucking joke from the start.

Who’s the Loser Now? by Scavenger

Stiles just expects to run and swim, hopefully come at least third place, and then go home. The universe has other plans.

To Leave A Mark by Fanfiction_is_Literature

Stiles Stilinski was born with a strange mark on his skin that resembled a paw print. No one thought much about it since birthmarks weren’t rare, but Stiles started to notice it change as he got older.

Derek Hale was a rare werewolf: the kind with a soulmark on his skin. But as tragedy struck both him and his mate, his interest dwindled in finding him or her. That is, until he started to notice similar changes from his mark in a certain teenaged boy with an alarming amount of moles.

Or: The Soulmate AU where soulmates are rare and get tattoo-looking marks on their skins that describe their mate.

Sparks (Your Touch) by stilesanderek (minxxx)

Stiles has always dreamed of imprinting. Of touching someone for the first time and feeling his world changing right then and there. Of knowing that that person would love you and be with you until the day you die. And yet nothing could have prepared him for with whom he finally imprints.

Or in which when Stiles gets promoted to detective, he gets a new partner, Laura Hale, with whom he instantly becomes best friend and who he thinks is the most perfect person to step into his life, the only problem being that her brother Derek hates his guts.

Countdown by actingup

0000d 00h 00m 37s

He always imagined meeting his soul mate would take forever; that time would slow down and he would see them walking towards him, he would know without a doubt who it was. It might have been someone he’s seen before but never talked to, or it might be a complete stranger that he never would have guessed. He didn’t imagine it in front of about a hundred people, maybe two-hundred, at a Dolphin show.

soulmates tbh by bleep0bleep

“It’s been five months,” Derek says darkly. “Why am I still getting these proposals? You know these are probably all fake marks.”

Five months since the paparazzi had snapped that photo of him with the overzealous fan tugging at his shirt, five months since millions of people on the Internet realized that the birthmark revealed was in fact, the mark, five months Derek was inundated by claims from people who desperately wanted him to believe that they were his soul-mate.

Soulseeker by alisvolatpropiis

Sighing, Stiles reaches for Derek’s big hands, cradled in his broad lap, his skin lighting up even more at Derek’s touch. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, preparing himself to look for Derek’s soulmate. Whoever you are, he thinks, you better be worth him.

[heechulhamster]

What Love Is - Park Chanyeol

Park Chanyeol x Reader

Fluff, Slice of Life

One would think that knowing love is intrinsic to everyone. But love isn’t something you learn from other people’s definition of it. To fully grasp it’s reality, it was one you need to experience yourself. 

2528 words

Love - one would think that it’s the most innate feeling amongst us humans. Too natural that one is said to experience it way even before your flesh first felt the air of this infinite world. The first heartbeat said to be a result of such feelings put into fruition by your parents, with you as its living and breathing form. Probably the most recurring theme in all forms of art - perhaps even its root and purpose. The lovers as they kiss in the serene moonlit garden depicted on the elaborate painting well rested on a museum’s wall. The tragic yet tumultuous affair immortalized in the names of Romeo and Juliet. The driving force that compelled The Platters into harmony with Only You. Most would think that love is something that we just know, as inborn as the heart beating in your chest. 

Yet you found out that what you know about love is merely the textbook definition, the summary of other people’s sentiments that you tried so hard to understand. But all that love was to you was another person’s story, happiness, grief - love was anything but yours to experience. That was until he taught you what love is - and it was a lesson learned slowly. 

A previously bodiless idea only showed a glimpse of its materiality in your way the moment he walked in your favorite cafe on a rainy Thursday afternoon. The cafe has always been a stranger to the crowd, only a few people knew the treasure it was. It’s handful patrons were people that you got acquainted with for frequenting the place. Yet that fateful afternoon, as the loud raindrops orchestrated a white noise against the glass windows, an unfamiliar face walked in. Juvenile in its softness, almost unfitting on the body it belonged to. The sound of the noise was persistent, but his smile overpowered everything else. Drowning whatever your other senses tried to perceive, instead focusing on the tall, princely man that was now in front of you. 

“Do you mind if I sit here?” He asked as he settled down the free chair opposite of yours on the circular coffee table. 

“Well, you’re already sitting.” You spoke nonchalantly, trying to hide the growing butterflies that now reside in your tummy.

“Oh, my bad.” He chuckled, low and baritone as it reverberated through your ear and in your mind. Each vibration carving his voice in your memory, in case this shall be the first and last time you see him. “I’m Chanyeol.” 

You reach out your hand to meet his that he offered for a handshake, aptly responding your name in reciprocation. Now that your attention is far away from the Danielle Steel book at hand, you decided to look around the small and warm coffee shop, a handful of seats and tables still bare. 

“There’s more unoccupied tables.” You said as-a-matter-of-fact. 

“Yeah, I can see that. I just thought that you might need company.” He answered as he smiled rather charmingly. 

“Me or you?” You asked, a faint smile now forming your pursed lips.

“Me.” He replied with a chuckle, as his long and slender fingers shake as he raises his cup of warm coffee to his lips. 

It was then you discovered that unlike the movies or novels, love wasn’t a sudden feeling. Neither was it an abyss that you just fall into while cautiously living your daily life. Not a warningless storm that just sweeps your quiet mind in an instant. Love was a set of deliberate choices, conscious and knowing of all possible events that will follow. Love was something you choose to let into your life because, not only did you open the door, you have paved the way for this person to walk on. Regardless of the inevitability of being hurt, the uncertainty of what is left unknown - you’ve let him into your life. 

It was your choice not to shoo him away from your table. To let him know why you prefer the rustic and unassumingly personal cafe downtown over the trendy and bustling Starbucks near your apartment. Your decision to let him smile and tell jokes as if you were already an old friend, a sense of familiarity flooding in the both of you. And it was your choice to not let things there - to give him your number even if you could’ve said no as he reached for his phone. You’ve given him permission to be a part of your life, to be more than a stranger that you meet on a rainy Thursday in your favorite cafe. And you’ve broken all chains holding you back from feeling anything from him. 

You’re well aware of his intentions when he asked you out on a Saturday night. He looked too put together to be meeting a mere acquaintance, smelled too good to just be with a friend, and his hands were too jittery for this to be platonic. Chanyeol’s nervous little chuckles as his shaky hand fails to insert the car keys to start the engine on the first try. 

“This is a date, right?” You asked, not wanting to misread whatever his signals are. 

“Uh.. yeah. But only if you want it to be.” Chanyeol answered, his big doe eyes looking to you with hope. 

“Why are you putting the decision on me? You’re the one who asked me out.” You laughed lightheartedly. 

“Well, I don’t want to pressure you into things.” He explained, as the engine of his yellow vintage Chevrolet finally roars into life.

“But is this a date or not?” You reiterated your question. 

“Yes, I’m taking you out on a date.” 

You smiled, small and shy in a form of relief. Because you know that you wanted it to be a date, a start of something that’s beyond platonic. The way you started preparing at 2 in the afternoon for something that’s still set for seven in the evening. How you took your time cleaning yourself in the bath, trying to look your best. It took you five, six outfits in front of the mirror before finding something that will suit your mood. Your white knee-length free flowing dress that was in your closet for the longest time, finding the right time to be worn. 

The concept of love you grew with, observing as it unfolded and presented itself to your siblings and friends was a far reach from the actuality of it. The theory of being in love - one that you experienced as you read different novels and watch romantic films was no match to love in actual practice. Love wasn’t something to be learned but something to be experienced, first hand and in the front lines. 

You thought you knew what being loved felt like. Manifested in the warmth of the soup you eat at dinner, passionately prepared by your mother or the hugs and giggles your friends give you. Chanyeol’s indication was something else, one that you could never get enough of despite the act being more than enough in itself. 

“No, I’m not going anywhere away from you.” He insisted as he wringed the damp cloth over the basin.

“But you have work.” You tried and reasoned out in between your unforgiving coughs. 

“They’ll find another jockey to take my slot. I’ll earn the money some other day. There’s nothing that would hold me back from taking care of you, okay?” Chanyeol assured you once more as he put the cloth over the heat of your forehead.

“Sorry to bother.” You replied sadly. 

“You’re not a bother, you’ll never be a bother. I’m here because I want to. I’m here because I want to be the one with you, understand that?” His long and slender thumb caressed the back of your hand as his other hand tucks you in beneath the thick blankets. 

“I love you.” He said as you started to doze off, probably unaware that you were still conscious. And it was his first proclamation of his devotion, his feelings now solid and alive. Taking form in his lips as it was relayed in your ears. You didn’t have to guess anymore as it already came from Chanyeol itself - he loves you. 

You should be far from sleeping soundly, you should be shocked, discomforted due to sheer excitement. Yet that night, despite your clogged airways and high fever, you slept better than ever. Trapped in his embrace that showed no signs of letting go, his breathing steady and harmonious as he lays beside you. You felt assured, in place, and loved like never before. 

You, on the other hand, was dealing with all the stages of falling in love along with the stages of knowing him. 

First, you knew his name. The mere abstract of his existence that first made its way into your life in a cafe. He’s Chanyeol, a disc jockey that worked in the local town club. Tall, and unforgivingly handsome, with a killer sense of style. He always wears these large hoodies with his ripped jeans, looking effortlessly divine. He drives a yellow Chevrolet that mirrored the cheerfulness of his personality, always bubbly and radiating this permanent shine of light. 

Next, you knew him as a matter - a being in this world beyond the shallow descriptions. You took time in memorizing each valley formed by the lines on the palm of his hands. Each mole on his body that wouldn’t be seen by mere bystanders. How he moves, nearly lanky due to his size, yet still attractive in your eyes. His biceps that was hard in your grip, strong enough to lift you in his will. Chanyeol’s voice was one of his distinct qualities, it’s low bass that just rings right in your ears. His smile, precious and warm and endearing, one that just causes you to flash one back too. 

Then you took hold of Chanyeol as a human. A person with flaws and downsides yet one who strives hard to make up for it. He’ll usually forget the fact that you need silence while working and start blasting his speakers out loud - but he’ll quickly apologize once you remind him to. A person with habits, some quirky and eccentric but adorable in itself. He stirs his coffee with a fork, saying that it’s like using four small stirrers at once. His drink will always have three ice cubes in it, regardless of where and when he’ll chug it down. Chanyeol’s not-so-little pinky finger will always be the one he reaches out first, before engulfing your hand that his way smaller than his. 

Finally, you knew Chanyeol as someone absolute to the universe. An imminent persona, a force to be reckoned with. An existence filled with wonderful thoughts and emotions. His artistry translated into his music that he shares with other people. The fact that he first wanted to be a recording artist, but dealing with the harsh truths of life ended up turning discs at a sweaty local club. But he didn’t see that as anything less, as all he wants is to communicate his vision and emotions through music. A universal language that just translates into anyone listening, one that he’s undeniably proficient at. He’ll always put people that he views as important over than any job or material thing - and that includes you. 

And by that time, you knew there was no other explanation to this other than love. This depth of knowing that only two intertwined souls will reach. 

“Let me just get your favorite strawberry yogurt.” He asked you as he reached out on the upper shelves of the market fridge, pertaining to the selection of dairy that lie cold and colorful. 

“I love you.” You just blurted out, eyes looking straight and intently into his. 

“What?” He clarified, eyes widening at your sudden revelation. Anyway, who wouldn’t be shocked? The first time that you’ll tell him you love him after four months of dating is while you’re both clad in sweatpants, shopping for food in a small grocery. 

“I love you, Chanyeol.” You reiterated, saying it a little bit louder than the first time. 

His wide eyes now retreated back into its normal size, then smaller. As his cheekbones puffed up while he smiled, bright and beaming of undeniable happiness. His hand was now on yours, leaving the rows of yogurt forgotten. 

“I love you too.” Chanyeol said, not giving you any sense to doubt the sincerity of his words. 

It was sudden, how you just professed a long growing feeling inside of you while in a grocery. But its urgency was brought by the importance of what you felt while pushing a shopping cart along the alleys of chips. It was the comfort, the undeniable sense of familiarity you have with Chanyeol, that you’d let him join you in something you used to enjoy doing on your own. How he just knows what flavor of yogurt you’d get without even asking you, only because he takes note of what you like. And the fact that you feel at home, in the middle of a grocery aisle, all because you’re with Chanyeol. Only to prove that a home isn’t just defined by four concrete walls, but also the presence of someone dear - of someone you love. 

Long gone were the days where you envied the movie characters for their picturesque kiss under the rain. How you imagined it would happen to you when your friends are talking about it in high school, that didn’t come into fruition as your prom night was as plain as a piece of paper. You didn’t have to write what you think love is, because you finally experienced it, said it out loud and heard it back.

With Chanyeol, you’ve debunked all the myths you thought you knew about love. 

Finding love didn’t need to be a breathtaking moment out of the movies. It could be as simple as a rainy Thursday afternoon while you sip on your cup of mocha at a small vintage cafe.

That indications of love doesn’t need a dozen long stemmed roses nor a box of chocolates. Sometimes you’ll feel love when he lets you choose the playlist on a car ride. Or when he lets you sleep on his arm, even if it would feel numb an hour later. Maybe it’s how you let him hug your precious pillow because you want to smell like him. 

Love wasn’t a formless concept, a feeling that just swims in your mind. It was something concrete and alive. It had colors - it was red as the heart he drew on your notebook one lazy Sunday afternoon. Sometimes it was as yellow as his ochre hoodie that looks oversized on you. Maybe it’s even brown for the tub of chocolate ice cream he gets you. Love can be known by temperature - warm for when you’re in his arms and cold when he leaves for work. Love had different shapes - a heart, a hickey, a rose, all these infinite possibilities. 

Most importantly, love is true. You have your own proof, breathing, living, and one to be seen and told stories about - and it was with Chanyeol. 

[gtseven7]

Seven Princes

Summary:

Seven handsome travelling entertainers capture hearts of the crowd by their amazing voices and artisic dancing as they slowly drain their audience's inner soul magic.

A/N:

Okay so there's not much of the boys here in this chapter. Fear not! This is only the start and I'll be focusing on them more on the next chapters coming. The two characters appearing on this chapter is from my own original story Blood Queen (which you can find on wattpad and my writeblr: annieslibrary) because for me, the au exists in the same universe as them. This chapter and the chapters that has the two of them was only to build up the lore of the universe. They will not be mainly in the story don't worry. I promise next chapter will have all of the boys.

prev/next

--

2

It was a sunny afternoon, with light breeze flowing, gently blowing Rianon's hair. The ex-princess' black hair dances as the wind caresses her face. She daintily walks the crowded street with a bread in hand. It's a long way till they get to Condor, the center of all magic, and they weren't in a hurry anymore. She feels like she went in a vacation after everything that has happened, Rianon thinks a holiday is well deserved. Coming out of war barely scathed requires a great deal of rest.

Walking beside her trusted partner: Indulf, the ex-princess couldn't really ask for more.

[[MORE]]

"This is nice Indulf. I think taking our time to travel, see the world out there while we try to get to Condor was a great idea."

The lady hunter smiled at Rianon. She couldn't remember the last time she had relaxed, probably never. Since the fall of her small town when she was young in Dilfae; Indulf never really had a rest. This was probably the best time to do it, with the person she cherishes the most.

As they are peacefully walking, side by side, admiring the busy people of the market; ladies who seemed to be in a hurry bumped into the Rianon. She was no longer a frail woman, but the suddeness of the collision caused her to stumble a bit. The ladies shoved them out of the way to run over what seemed to be a gathering of masses from afar.

"What the...! Are you okay?" Indulf asked while helping the other regain her balance. Holding her arm, the redhead hunter glared at the women who bumped them. It was futile because they were out of sight as they have already been swallowed by the large crowd ahead.

"I'm fine." Rianon said off handedly, her interest already piqued by the commotion. "What do you think that is? It looks like a large tent." The ex-princess stood on tippy toes to get a better view, but to no avail, the large mass of people covered up her sight. "I don't know..." Indulf couldn't really care less about what the ruckus, she just wanted to stroll around the market, maybe eat some good food. But Rianon's eyes were shining with curiosity as she walks faster to get into the thick crowd. "Rianon! I don't think it's wise to get involved in that..." The redhead tried to stop her companion. Catching the arms of the princess didn't seem to stop her. She even stopped a woman running towards the crowd as well.

"Hey! Uhmm... What's with that? What's happening?"

Indulf wanted smack her head to her palm but resisted. Even after the bloodbath they have been through, Rianon's excitable child-like character did not cease. It's nice yes, but sometimes Indulf hoped it was gone.

"Oh! The Seven Princes are here!"

"The Seven Princes?"

The woman matched Rianon's excitement. Her eyes were shining and her mouth smiled too wide. It's kind of creepy on the stranger's face.

"Yes! They are seven handsome performers! You should watch them, this is their last night in town!"

And there it is: hook, line and sinker. Once the word 'handsome performers' dropped out of the woman's mouth, Indulf knew she'll regret it.

"Indulf! Performers! Let's go see!"

"Ugh. Why?"

Rianon pouted at her partner, trying to manipulate her into saying yes as she usually does. The lady hunter might say she is tough, but she melts like she always does whenever Rianon pulls out her best techniques. One of them including batting her eyelashes at her while she pouts.

"Please? I haven't seen any shows in a while! You know I love things like these!"

Of course she hasn't watched in a long time, with a raging war in their hands before, a show was in no one's mind.

And as always, Indulf said begrudingly: "Ugh. Fine. Lead the way."

-

A large mass of power was what Indulf felt once she set foot near the tent. Waves and waves of magic tingles her skin. The red magical stone dangling on her neck reacts slightly.

"There's a strong whiff of sorcery here Ria. Can you feel it?"

The other nodded, admiring the large black tent. It was glamorous, as gold shines in the linings of the tent's cloth. "They must be magicians. A group of travelling performers from Condor. Maybe we could ask them if they know how to fix us."

"Maybe... I have a bad feeling about this."

Rianon laughed slightly, a playful judging expression on her face. "You never really liked magic Indulf." With a feigned hurt, Indulf responded. "I do now! Look where it got me." A sly smile graced her mouth as she looked at the ex-princess carefully. Reading her face if she got what the hunter was saying. And she did. A slight tinge on her cheeks surfaced.

Soul swap may have been unfortunate on their first meeting, but by now both can say it was a blessing instead of a curse.

Their moment was interrupted when a tall figure of a man came beside Rianon. Startling the princess when he bent down a little to greet them. "Hey." His face full of sophisticated boyish charm as he grins at them. "Hey..." The two greeted back.

The man was wearing an elegant prince-wear. Black velvet adorned with gold pieces of jewelry. His face, posture and clothes screamed royalty. His eyes shines in different colors. Magic was strong in him and both women can feel it.

"I can't help but notice the two of you when I took a peek earlier. I must say you two are the most beautiful women in this crowd."

A charmer indeed and Rianon was weak for that as she stares at his face while Indulf stood in careful interest.

"Are you one of the performers?" asked the redhead. The man turned his blinding smile and alluring eyes towards Indulf. His eyes crinkling a little, emphasizing the small mole under his left eye. "Yes I am. You're here for the show right?"

"Yes we are!"

"I'm glad to hear that, come with me, I'll get you two the best seats."

He made a slight extravagant gesture of bowing and stretching his hands towards the backdoor of the tent. "We'll go in now? The rest of them are still waiting."

"Think of this as special treatment for special people."

Least to say, the lady hunter was suspicious.

Going inside the tent, both knew the difference the outer and inner structure. If the outside was glamorous, inside was just shining paradise. It was huge with lots of lights around and a stage in the middle of four staged bleachers. The extravagance of it was all magic and it did not escape in both ladies' eyes.

In the middle of it all, on the stage were five men looking as if they are royalty as well. Velvet red and black. They were looking at their other member walking towards them. If the man beside them was tall, the one beaming at them was taller. While the one they first met has slightly darker shade, the man that stopped before them was white. His skin looked as if it was dazzling. And like the first they met, the feeling of power was strong in him too.

"BamBam! You brought in the ladies already?" He smiled at them while teasing his brother. The man beside Rianon whose name was BamBam apparently only laughed. "Hello to the two of you. Thank you for taking interest in us."

Realizing that she was staring with mouth slightly agape, Rianon snapped out of her daze. "Yes! Well, hahaha, I love performers and magicians."

Both men raised their eyebrows as they heard her acknowledge their craft that no ordinary people can pick up on.

Both lead the two to the seat closest to the stage, still chatting them up. "Oh! I forgot to ask, what are your names?"

"I'm Rianon," then she pointed to her companion, "this is Indulf."

"Beautiful names! I'm BamBam and this is Yugyeom."

Indulf was about to ask them if they were performers who came from Condor as entertainers like them usually came from that place. They might me able to help them with their situation right now if they know enough magic. And it seems that they do considering the whole place. But she did not get the chance as both men were called back by the others so they retreated back and bid goodbye.

Indulf really is having a bad feeling about this whole thing.

[7r0773r]

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong

In the bathroom with the pea-soup walls, the grandma rolls a freshly boiled egg over the boy’s face where, a few minutes ago, his mother had flung an empty ceramic teapot that exploded on the boy’s cheek.

The egg is warm as my insides, he thinks. It’s an old remedy. “The egg, it heals even the worst bruises,” says his grandma. She works on the violet lump shining, like a plum, on the boy’s face. As the egg circled, its smooth pressure on the bruise, the boy watched, under a puffed lid, his grandma’s lips crease with focus as she worked. Years later, as a young man, when all that remains of the grandma is a face etched in his mind, the boy will remember that crease between her lips while breaking open a hard-boiled egg on his desk on a winter night in New York. Short on rent, it would be eggs for dinner for the rest of the week. They would not be warm, but cold in his palm, having been boiled by the dozen earlier that morning. 

At his desk, drifting, he’ll roll the moist egg across his cheek. Without speaking, he will say Thank you. He’ll keep saying it until the egg grows warm with himself.

“Thank you, Grandma,” says the boy, squinting.

“You fine now, Little Dog.” She lifts the pearly orb, and places it gently to his lips. “Eat,” she says. “Swallow. Your bruises are inside it now. Swallow and it won’t hurt anymore.” And so he eats. He is eating still. 

***

In college a professor once insisted, during a digression from a lecture on Othello, that, to him, gay men are inherently narcissistic, and that overt narcissism might even be a sign of homosexuality in men who have not yet accepted their “tendencies.” Even as I fumed in my seat, the thought wouldn’t stop burrowing into me. Could it be that, all those years ago. I had followed Gramoz in the schoolyard simply because he was a boy, and therefore a mirror of myself?

But if so—why not? Maybe we look into mirrors not merely to seek beauty, regardless how illusive, but to make sure, despite the facts, that we are still here. That the hunted body we move in has not yet been annihilated, scraped out. To see  yourself still yourself is a refuge men who have not been denied cannot know. 

I read that beauty has historically demanded replication. We make more of anything we find aesthetically pleasing, whether it’s a vase, a painting, a chalice, a poem. We reproduce it in order to keep it, extend it through space and time. To gaze at what pleases—a fresco, a peach-red mountain range, a boy, the mole on his jaw—is, in itself, replication—the image prolonged in the eye, making more of it, making it last. Staring into the mirror, I replicate myself into a future where I might not exist. And yes, it was not pizza bagels, all those years ago, that I wanted from Gramoz, but replication. Because his offering extended me into something worthy of generosity, and therefore seen. It was that very moreness that I wanted to prolong, to return to.

***

There’s a word Trevor once told me about, one he learned from Buford, who served in the navy in Hawaii during the Korean War: kipuka. The piece of land that’s spared after a lava flow runs down the slope of a hill—an island formed from what survives the smallest apocalypse. Before the lava descended, scorching the moss along the hill, that piece of land was insignificant, just another scrap in an endless mass of green. Only by enduring does it earn its name. Lying on the mat with you, I cannot help but want us to be our own kipuka, our own aftermath, visible. But I know better.

***

You once asked me what it means to be a writer. So here goes.

Seven of my friends are dead. Four from overdoses. Five, if you count Xavier who flipped is Nissan doing ninety on a bad batch of fentanyl.

I don’t celebrate my birthday anymore.

Take the long way home with me. Take the left on Walnut, where you’ll see the Boston Market where I worked for a year when I was seventeen (after the tobadcco farm). Where the Evangelical boss—the one with nose pores so large, bisuit crumbs from his lunch would get lodged in them—never gave us any breaks. Hungry on a seven-hour shift, I’d lock myself in the broom closet and stuff my mouth with cornbread I snuck in my black, standard-issue apron.

Trevor was put on OxyContin after breaking his ankle doing dirt bike humps in the woods a year before I met him. He was fifteen.

OxyContin, first mass-produced by Purdue Pharma in 1996, is an opioid, essentially making it heroin in pill form.

I never wanted to build a “body of work,” but to preserve these, our bodies, breathing and unaccounted for, inside the work.

Take it or leave it. The body, I mean.

Takke a left on Harris Stl, whee all that’s left of the house that burned down that summer during a thunderstorm is a chain-linked dirt lot.

The truest ruins are not written down. The girl Grandma knew back in Go Cong, the one whose sandals were cut from the tires of a burned-out army jeep, who was erased by an air strike three weeks before the war ended—she’s a ruin no one can point to. A ruin without location, like a language.

AFter a month on the Oxy, Trevor’s ankle healed, but he was a full-blown addict.

In a world myriad as ours, the gaze is a singular act; to look at something is to fill your whole life with it, if only briefly. Once, after my fourteenth birthday, crouched between the seats of an abandoned school bus in the woods, I filled my life with a l ine of cocaine. A white letter “I” glowed on the seat’s peeling leather. Inside me the “I” became a switchblade—and something tore. My stomach forced up but it was too late. I n minutes, I cbecame more of myself. Which is to say the monstrous part of me got so large, so familiar, I could want it. I could kiss it.

The truth is none of us are enough enough. But you know this already.

The truthy is I came here hoping for a reason to stay.

Sometimes those reasons are small: the way you pronounce spaghetti as “bahgeddy.”

It’s late in the season—which means the winter roses, in full bloom along the national bank, are suicide notes.

Write that down.

They say nothing lasts forever but they’re just scared it will last longer than they can love it.

Are you there? Are you still walking?

They say nothing lasts forever and I’m writing you in the voice of an endangered species.

The truth is I’m worried they will get us before they get us.

Tell me where it hurts. You have my word.

***

They say addiction might be linked to bipolar disorder. It’s the chemicals in our brains, they say. I got the wrong chemicals, Ma. Or rather, I don’t get enough of one or the other. They have a pill for it. They have an industry. They make millions. Did you know people get rich off of sadness? I want to meet the millionaire of American sadness. I want to look him in the eye, shake his hand, and say, “It’s been an honor to serve my country.”

***

In Vietnamese, the word for missing someone and remembering them is the same: nhó. Sometimes, when you ask me over the phone, Con nhó mę không? I flinch, thinking you meant, Do you remember me?

***

I am thinking of beauty again, how some things are hunted because we have deemed them beautiful. If, relative to the history of our planet, an individual life is so short, a blink of an eye, as they say, then to be gorgeous, even from the day you’re born to the day you die, is to be gorgeous only briefly. Like right now, how the sun is coming on, low behind the elms, and I can’t tell the difference between a sunset and a sunrise. The world, reddening, appears the same to me—and I lose track of east and west. The colors this morning have the frayed tint of something already leaving. I think of the time Trev and I sat on the toolshed roof, watching the sun sink. I wasn’t so much surprised by its effect—how, in a few crushed minutes, it changes the way things are seen, including ourselves—but that it was ever mine to see. Because the sunset, like survival, exists only on the verge of its own disappearing. To be gorgeous, you must first be seen, but to be seen allows you to be hunted.

[jae-daddy]

Holic (6)

Jaebum AU

one / two / three / four / five / seven /  eight / nine /

Characters: Im Jaebum x Reader

Genre: Drama, Romance, Mature

Plot: After your older sister bails on her wedding day, Jaebum and you tie the knot. You weren’t always so bad, at one time you were kids who were true friends, but I guess time is a horrible thing.

a/n: help tried to make steamy

You were fifteen years old when everything between Jaebum and you changed. He had always been a little shithead, but he was also your friend. Something happened and you both were never the same again.

You stood outside of Jaebum’s house, hiding behind your parents as they talked.

The adults were saying their farewell to each other, as the kids stood idly beside them, trying not to show their sadness. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at Jaebum, whose gaze you could feel on you.

You didn’t want to see him leave. He was such an important part of your life, just the mere thought of him not being there sent chills through you.

Your parents stepped away from you and went back into the house leaving the kids behind. The three of you stood there at the bottom of the steps that led to Jaebum’s old house. You didn’t move from your spot and kept staring at the ground.

Your sister said her goodbyes first, being as gracefully as ever, leaving after a quick hug. You stayed the back, awkwardly rubbing your arm, still refusing to look up.

Saying goodbyes weren’t really your thing. Actually saying anything emotional wasn’t much of your thing. You didn’t talk to people unless it was small talk or a sarcastic banter battle.

“Y/n,” Jaebum’s soft voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You finally looked up from the rocky cement to find his warm brown eyes focused on your red face. The spring breeze rushed through your hair, warming up your hands, but your heart felt cold.

“Will you stay if I ask you to?” You whispered, tears pricking your eyes.

Jaebum took a step towards and stood close to you, as a sad sigh left him. You felt his heat envelope you, as the smell of clean laundry and something that only Jaebum carried surrounded you.

“You know I can’t even if I wanted to,” he held your wrists, as his eyes meeting yours. “But I can make a promise.”

You watched as his lips turned into a small smile.

“A promise?” You asked, meekly. Jaebum’s smile grew as he held your hands in his.

“I promise I will come back to you.” His words made your heart feel lighter, as more tears escaped you.

“You promise?” You peered into his eyes, your eyelashes wet from all the crying.

“I promise.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

You grunted as you pulled at the plant, but ended up falling on your ass. The plant mockingly stayed in its place, not even swaying at your attempts.

You heard light laughter behind you, as you saw Jaebum make his way towards you. His hands were rolling the sleeves of his business shirt, as he took long strides that led him to stand above you.

“Need help?” He asked, with a mocking smile.

“Don’t mind if I do,” you replied, simply, instead of being mulish.

He moved in front of you and tried to pull at the plant. After a few tries, he ended up beside you with a terrified yelp, falling on the soft green grass beside you.

A little giggle escaped your lips, as you saw Jaebum’s face contour between terror, defeat and surprise.

Slowly, your giggles grew into a tummy aching laugh. Tears began streaming down your cheeks, as you remembered Jaebum’s horrified look over and over again.

You pointed at Jaebum and laughed harder as he brushed the dirt from his palm, frowning.

He looked over at you, his frown slowly starting to dissolve and turn into a chuckle, as he saw you dying from your laughter.

His lips whirled into a loopy grin, as his eyes closed into tiny slits of joy. He grinned widely, light laughter leaving him, as he watched your laughing face.

This was the first time Jaebum had seen you laugh so freely since you were kids. He realised how much he had missed it, and how badly he wanted to see it again. He cherished your face so free, not hiding behind a pretence of a heartless princess.

He watched as your hiccups began dying down, and you wiped the tears that escaped your eyes.

“Come on, you little demon,” Jaebum patted your back. “Let’s try it together.”

You both got up and counted to three, as you held the plant.

“One, two, three!” And then, you both went flying through the air with broken leaves in your grips.

You sighed in frustration and threw the leaf at the plant.

“Why is this so hard?!” You pouted angrily, cursing the plant.

“Why are you even gardening all of a sudden?” He asked you instead, turning to look at you. You cleared your throat, not wanting to reply.

But when he nudged your side, you crumbled and groaned.

“Fine. I read somewhere that it’s good for relaxing. I’m hoping it will help stop the nightmares.” You muttered looking at your hands.

Jaebum pursed his lips in deep thought, before studying your uneasiness.

“What exactly do you dream of?” His voice came out careful.

“I’m getting kidnapped,” you blurted out, the fear that squeezed your heart tightened, as you took a deep shaky breath. “Again.”

The last part was barely above a whisper as it left you. It was almost as if you had just breathed it, but Jaebum seemed to hear it loud and clear.

“Again?” He asked, surprised and serious.

You nodded, chewing your bottom lip. “It happened when you went to New York with your family. My parents covered it up from going out to the public, the kidnappers are in jail, but that doesn’t change the fact that it happened.”

“I didn’t know-” You cut off his pity party before it could even start.

“It’s okay, my parents didn’t realise too,” you turned to face him, with a wickedly bright smile. “Not until three days later, when I wasn’t ready for my sister’s birthday party.”

You removed your eyes from Jaebum’s pitiful ones and looked at your palms dark with dirt instead. You began rubbing it together to clean them, watching as the dirt circled together then fall down at once.

“Maybe,” you took a deep breath, trying to lighten up the heavy mood. “We should try wetting the area around it, and then pull it out.”

Jaebum turned to you, his normal-lazy smile slowly coming back.

“To soften the soil,” he added, nodding.

“I’m a genius, I know.” You rolled your eyes, before pushing him to go fetch the hose.

He reluctantly got up, and you made your way towards the stubborn stub. It was prickly and had pretty white flowers, but it wasn’t what you wanted.

All it was, was a stubborn little plant in your greater scheme of a tiny strawberry farm.

“Hey, so like this?” Jaebum called out making you turn around to face him. You were greeted with a spray of cold water hitting you blank on your face.

You tried to save yourself by holding your palms in front of you. You tried to protect your self from Jaebum’s cold attack, as a loud squeal left you when the water soaked your clothes.

“Jaebum!” You tried to be mad but failed as a small giggle left you. Jaebum stopped and put his hands on his hips. He took in the work he had created, as you stood there, water dripping down your back.

“You’ll pay for that,” you muttered, as you lunged at him. You won the hose, thanks to the element of surprise. Jaebum shrieked as you returned the favour, showering him as he tried to get away from your reach.

“Give that back!” He laughed, trying to get it off. You both began struggling over the control of the hose, which resulted in you both getting more drenched with every passing second.

A raspy laugh left you, before Jaebum took your wrists that gripped the hose, and held them behind you. You felt the beads of water run down inside your shirt, and sliding down from your hair.

Droplets of water slipped off Jaebum and landed on your cheeks as he towered over you. He hands pulling you close, attempting to hold you in place.

Jaebum’s wet hair stuck to his forehead, as a wide wicked grin of sheer joy adored his lips.  

When you tried to free yourself from his grip, his arms roughly pulled your body against his. Holding you closer to him, making it impossible for you to move.

Your laugh instantly sobered up when you realised how close Jaebum was to you. The warmth of his body, and the nostalgic smell of Jaebum with a hint of cologne wrapped around you, as heat escaped from his skin and hid into yours. His breath fell over your cheeks, making your cheeks flush with nervousness,  as your eyes locked with each other.

You could see the two moles above his eye that always made your heart flutter. You saw the little kink in the corner of his eyebrow, that he got when you were kids.

You had mistakenly hit him with a paddle during an intense game of ping pong.

It was barely visible now, but it was there, and it crinkled slightly with his slightest smile.

Your breath got caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, and his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t understand.

You felt his grip on your wrist tighten, as your chest pressed against his.

You gasped in return, welcoming the pain of his searing hold on your wrist.

Jaebum’s gaze dropped to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

Despite everything that has happened; your past, and the reasons for why you were here today, you wanted the kiss.

You really really wanted to kiss Jaebum.

You rose a little on your tippy toes and inched closer to Jaebum.

“Y/n,” Jaebum breathed, his voice dark and low. His eyes searched your face looking for something, as his eyes lingered on your lips before meeting your eyes once again.

For the first time in a very long time, a real smile lightly danced on the corner of your lips. Jaebum noticed and his eyes swirled with tenderness, as his lips reflected your loving smile.

“Jaebum!” A voice called out pulling you out of your trance. You both to jumped away from each other and turned to Cynthia running towards you. “I got a fork!”

Your heart that had forgotten how to beat a few seconds ago, was beating fast, as the real world slowly caught up with you. Your cheeks burned brighter, as Jaebum’s gaze burned in your mind.  

“Thanks, Cynthia,” you gave her one of your classic smiles and took the fork of her. “I can handle it from here.”

You turned away from them, trying to hide your uneasiness.

You avoided Jaebum’s eyes that refused to look away from you and stared at the garden instead. You began digging around the prickly-white-flowered plant when someone began pouring water over it.

“We should still soften the soil first,” Jaebum said, before bending down next to you.

“And, y/n,” His melting brown eyes gazed softly into yours. “If you ever get those nightmares again; I’m less than a door away.”

You stood outside your old apartment feeling nervous as you talked to Jihyo over the phone.

“Are you sure I can go in?” You asked for the fifth time.

“Yeah, its fine,” Jihyo answered, her patience holding strong. “I ran it by them yesterday, that you’ll come to collect a few things.”

You hung up your phone after saying goodbye, and turned to see the familiar white door of your old apartment. You lifted a hand and briefly knocked on the door, holding your breath.

“Coming!” A voice called out, it sounded strangely familiar.

The door opened to show a man a few years older than you on the other side.

“Hi, I’m Joshua.” He said, holding up his hand. You shook it, introducing yourself before going inside.

You told him you forgot a few files that you kept somewhere, and began making your way towards the bathroom.

Once inside, you stood on the bathtub and lifted the secret section of the roof up. You grabbed your files and got off the tub.

You were about to leave when you saw something glint from the corner of your eyes.

You looked between the bathtub and the vanity to find a photo frame.

Your lips parted as a gasp left you, and betrayal washed over you.

You picked up the photo of the boy and girl and made your way to the living room where Joshua sat, looking anxious.

You snorted as you saw the guy rubbing his hands together, the worried look evident on his face.

“Treasure hunts were always my favourite. Especially if the price is so rewarding,” your lips curled into an ugly smirk, as you held up the photo.

Joshua’s lips parted in terrified shock as his eyes travelled to the photo of a couple on their wedding day.

A photo of Joshua and your older sister on their wedding day.

not edited

[writing-yj]

Nightwing x Reader: Mockingbird’s Betrayal

Summary: Mockingbird finally had enough. Her authority constantly being challenged by her younger team members, being blamed for reckless behavior, and every decision was criticized by Batman or the Justice League. The moment one of the younger heroes made a quiet, snide comment that suggested she should leave the team was the last straw.

Word Count: 3915

Warnings: There’s some blood, a bit of gore

This has nothing to do with the Robin x Reader Soulmate AU series, aside from Mockingbird’s abilities!

“Mockingbird is too reckless, dangerous, and don’t get me started on how she helps lead us. She needs to be kicked off the team.” The bitter, whispered remark made the hair on the back of your neck bristle. It was one of the girls walking to the showers, and your nails dug into your palm.

Nightwing could sense your anger from across the room. “Are you okay, Mockingbird?” He asked. He unfortunately knew of how rude the younger members could be to you, and he spoke to them numerous times, but it never worked for long. Despite being in love with you, he wouldn’t try to keep you on the team if you wanted to leave. You didn’t deserve this treatment.

You turned your head a little, just enough to see him. “I’m fine. Just a little wound up, is all.” Your voice was so calm that it was almost scary. It was decided; this team didn’t need or want you anymore. A dark part of you thirsted for revenge, and you gave in with little resistance. 

The good part of you, the light and loyal part wanted you to stay. You were still good friends with the original six members of your team. Your feelings for Nightwing were so strong, it was almost painful. That thought arose for a moment, but was soon snuffed out by the dark. 

‘They don’t want me as a hero anymore, hmm? Then I guess a villain will suffice.’ The voice of your conscience was one you didn’t recognize, but was there any point in turning back?

‘No. There isn’t.’

After that day, you used most of your spare time training with everyone. You trained with each team member, one by one, and you learned their tactics and battle styles. You committed them to your memory, should you have to fight them later on. You were already capable of defeating almost all of your teammates, but this excessive training helped you succeed. 

You even sparred with Black Canary, your mentor, almost every other day. Her face was one of a proud mother when you defeated her the first time. Not even she suspected the dangerous intentions that consumed you. Because of this, you were getting stronger and stronger by the day, and you were capable of defeating Superboy and Wonder Girl with ease.

However, sparring or even just speaking with Nightwing temporarily calmed the tempest inside you. Sometimes you yearned to stay, to never think about betraying them again, but the rage always came back eventually.

Overtime, bits and pieces of classified information stored in the Watchtower’s computers went missing. The disappearances were so small that they were unnoticeable at a first, maybe even a third glance. You were the thief who was slowly hacking in and stealing the classified files, for the sake of having exceeding information about missions and material evidence of black mail you could use, just in case. That’s how bad it got.

The adults and the team began to notice the small changes in your behavior. You were being more secretive and somewhat anti-social, but strangely more tolerant and passive. No one thought it to be a bad thing, so it wasn’t concerning or suspicious.

But Nightwing noticed that something was wrong. He knew you well enough to see the smallest adjustments in your attitude, and how your schedule was altered. You didn’t take as much time to hang out with him anymore, and the look in your eyes continued to change as the days went by. You spent less time at Mount Justice, and more time… somewhere else. He had no idea where you were going, and he wanted to ask, but he thought it would be best to stay out of your personal business.

You were in the kitchen, taking care of the dishes you used for your midnight snack, when you heard a very quiet tap behind you. You memorized that sound long ago, and you said, “I thought you would have stopped trying to sneak up on me, Nightwing.” You said nonchalantly, turning around and leaning on the counter.

“Damn it…” You heard Nightwing curse under his breath, but he smiled when your eyes met his. “You got me. I thought I was silent this time!”

“I know every distinguishing sound that comes from you and the rest of our teammates. Good luck getting past me.” You grinned.

After a couple moments, he cocked his head. “Have you been alright these past few weeks? You’ve been acting a little differently.”

‘How the hell-’

You nodded your head without missing a beat. “I’ve been perfectly fine, Dick. There’s nothing to worry about.” You lied through your teeth. Anyone one had a right to worry.

“That’s exactly what you say when you aren’t fine.” Nightwing’s voice and attitude got serious. “What’s wrong, (Y/n)?”

‘Of course he noticed!’

No words came from your open mouth, so you looked at the floor. You were afraid that one wrong word would make him dig deeper, and it’s better to stay silent to avoid exposing yourself.

He stood in front of you and sighed. “Is it how the younger members have been treating you?” Nightwing’s face expressed his concern, and he repeatedly tried to get you to look at him. “I’ve been talking to them about it. They’ll come around.” He gave you a small, comforting smile.

“Some of them want me off the team,” you said firmly. “Did any of them tell you about that bit?”

Nightwing looked a little stunned at this new information. “I’m sure they don’t mean that-”

“They do mean it!” You raised your voice unintentionally. “What the hell did I do to deserve any of that!? I’ve been on this team since it was first formed and I’m getting insulted and disrespected by kids.” You spat out, but you didn’t move away. “Everything I do is either scrutinized by the Justice League or judged by the others! I’m the one taking the heat for their reckless choices, and none of them have bothered to take responsibility their own actions! I haven’t been as reckless as them for almost six years!”

He shook his head in sympathy and disbelief. At least he, M’gann, Conner, Barbara, and the other heroes you grew up with didn’t treat you that way. “I don’t know what’s gotten into them. I can talk to Batman about it and-”

“Don’t even bother. I’ve already tried; Black Canary hardly ever listens to me anymore.” You quieted down turned away from him, running both of your hands through your hair. “I’m getting tired of this, Dick. I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this.”

‘Not for too much longer…’

“You’re a strong woman, (Y/n). I bet you could push through it, but,” Dick trailed off for a moment before getting back on track. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave. I sure as hell would want to if I was treated like that. So I won’t stop you if you want out.”

His words were touching, and your heart melted a little before hardening back to ice. “I’ll sit on it for a few days. Let’s see how I feel in a couple months or so.” You gave him a fake smile and you walked past him.

Dick reached out and grabbed your wrist and gently pulled you back a couple feet. Even through his mask, you could see the care in his eyes. “Feel better, alright?” He almost whispered. Then he gave you a soft kiss on your forehead, and he promptly left the kitchen with a grin on his face.

The simple but loving gesture made your heart stutter, and you almost blushed until your conscience said otherwise.

‘Get him out of your head! Don’t let him stop you; some of them may be your friends, but this team deserves this!’

About four and a half weeks later, many different things were off. Specifically missions. For some reason, the enemy always knew, or had a good idea, on how to deflect the team’s tactics and plans. They knew drop off and extraction points, entrances and exits, and sometimes even where the heroes were stationed. One mission ended up with Wonder Girl and Bumble Bee being carried back while unconscious, and you had no regrets.

You stooped low enough to share small amounts of mission plans with the opposing side, since nothing had changed back at Mount Justice. When the Justice League started to suspect a mole, you immediately started making plans to cover up your tracks, method of escape, and you continued to vigorously trained with any hero who may attempt to stop you if it came down to confronting them.

Sometimes your heart twinged when you realized you were going to betray a few of your closest friends. M’gann would be extremely hurt, Conner would probably launch into a now uncharacteristic rage, Wally would be distraught, Artemis, your best friend, would be purely heartbroken, Kaldur would possibly cut himself off, and Dick? He would be completely shattered.

Now it regularly made you want to stop your plans, to stop back-stabbing them, but you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried. Your mind was dead-set on vengeance; it was like a claw had taken hold of your heart and mind and refused to let go. You fought and fought, but you had no choice but to permanently give in. The night before, you went into a trance that lasted nearly two hours. There was some major stress on your mockingbird DNA, and that was a big red flag. Your friends noticed, but the mission you opted to not go on made them forget.

Just as you finished downloading more classified information, you heard a zeta tube announce someone coming in. You quickly shoved the flash drive into your pocket and you booked it out of there. Right after you escaped Green Lantern’s sight, your stomach dropped and you went deathly pale. You realized you took and extra file. One would think that one extra file wouldn’t be bad, right? 

Wrong. You had purposely been taking an exact amount of information that would go unnoticed, but this wasn’t going to go unnoticed. You swore and cussed over and over as you started to throw things together into a bag an you loaded your new utility belt with smoke pellets and sleeping gas. In the bag, you had water and medical supplies, solely for making sure none of your soon-to-be former teammates die or get too injured. Injuries of theirs were inevitable; it was too bad none of the supplies could fix broken hearts.

On your wrist computer, you pulled up footage of the Watchtower as you got onto your motorcycle that you previously upgraded immensely. Sure enough, Batman, Black Canary, Zatanna, and Aquaman were looking at the absence of files, and then looking deeper to discover that several important files were missing.

Something inside you wilted when you saw them pull up past footage of you leaving the rooms after files disappeared, and Black Canary’s broken and betrayed face made you feel sick, almost guilty even.

You put on your helmet and the engine of your motorcycle roared as you sped out of Mount Justice, the place you practically grew up in, one last time. You got out just before Batman put it on lock down, but he was too late to catch you. Your heart was pounding, but it calmed when it turned to stone once again. Your friends and mentor always messed with your heart, but not anymore. What you’d done was barely forgivable. Forgiveness would be almost impossible to get back.

‘One less thing to hold you back…’

Fifteen minutes later, you took a sharp turn into the forest onto an overgrown trail you knew by heart. Some leaves whacked and brushed by your helmet, and you ran over some bumps, but the small above-ground cavern a couple minutes after. The cavern was a place you found long ago, and you would go to it when you needed to clear your head. 

You parked just outside it and you slid off the shiny black motorcycle. You removed your helmet, flipping your hair and running a quick hand through it as you put the helmet on the seat.

You pulled the flash drive out of your pocket and examined it; it was brand new and shiny in your palm. You pressed the button on the side and it acted like your wrist computer, revealing a hologram of the information it stored. You designed it yourself, and it served its purpose quite well.

You felt like screaming in anger when you heard a twig snap behind you. Of course she found you. Of course she knew where you would go. Of course she was going to be the first one to confront you. “Mockingbird…” Black Canary said sternly, but her voice cracked at then end. “We need to talk.”

“About what? Is something wrong, Dinah?” You asked innocently, but your voice was laced with evil. You turned your head at her out of the corner of your mask. “You seem sad, why is that?”

“Why would you do this!?” Dinah cried out, a couple tears spilling from her eyes. “Why would you betray us!? And your friends!?”

A brush of leaves to your right let you know that Green Arrow was there, too. You gritted your teeth and growled, “Have you not noticed how you and the rest of the Justice League reprimand me for my ‘mistakes’, and tell me that I’m the one being reckless? When those kids are the ones responsible?” Your heart started pounding again from how furious you were. “And you know what? They disrespect me left and right. They don’t obey and damn thing I say and they completely disregard my rightfully earned authority. Then one of them said I shouldn’t be on the team and that I should be removed from it.”

“You could have told us!” Dinah took a step in your direction.

“I did tell you! I went to you countless times- you might as well come out now, Oliver, I know you’re there -and you did nothing!” You roared. “I’m done with all of that shit! If I’m going to be treated like a foe among heroes, then I might as well become one. You and that team of children are to blame for this.”

Dinah took another few steps forward, and she was getting too close for your comfort. Oliver stepped out of the shadows and lowered his hood. “We can work this out, (Y/n). Don’t make it worse than it already is.” He said calmly, but you could see the pain in his eyes. However, the sight of him still having a death-grip on his bow just made you even more hostile. 

“Don’t you dare take another step, Dinah. If you get any closer, I won’t hesitate to fight either of you. You both know I can.” Your voice was dark, and your eyes were nothing like your old ones.

Oliver slowly drew his bow as if he knew what was coming next, and he did. (Y/n), please-” Just like you warned her not to, she moved forward. 

And you didn’t go back on your word. You whirled around and landed a punch on her jaw with your right hand, and you caught Oliver’s arrow with your left. When you once taunted Oliver, saying that you could catch any of his arrows any day, you weren’t kidding. Your constant training and studying came down to this moment, what it all was meant for. they thought they knew your moves, but you were not only mocking sounds, but the unique fighting moves of those you sparred with.

In one rapid and smooth movement, you plunged the arrow into Dinah’s shoulder with emotionless eyes. You purposely avoided any area that could give her a fatal injury; you weren’t aiming to kill. Her shout of pain left you numb as you ducked and avoided Oliver’s swing. You elbowed him in the jaw and punched him so hard that you broke his nose. Blood poured out immediately and his head snapped back on impact.

You were moving faster than they had ever seen you and that made things even more of a challenge. For them, that is. At some point, your shoulder got dislocated and relocated in a short span of five seconds, and your cheek was cut open. Dinah fought to the best of her ability with tears in her eyes, despite having an arrow stuck in her shoulder. But she was losing, and all three of you knew that. Oliver’s bow and quiver were on the ground several yards away; you knocked them from his hand a minute earlier. He felt like he failed as a parent, and that thought was going to drag him down for the rest of his days. 

You used a move Dinah taught you herself to flip her over your shoulder. It knocked the wind out of her, and add that on top of her current injuries, she was down for the count, unable to keep fighting for the time being. That left Oliver.

He elbowed your throat and you gagged, which pissed you off even more. It was a dirty trick in your eyes; if he was going to play dirty, so were you. “’Oliver, stop! You’re hurting me!’” You cried out, using Dinah’s distressed voice.

That made the man you once called your father falter and stop in his tracks. His adrenaline rush prevented him from registering it as a trick, until you hit him with a mean uppercut to the jaw. You kicked him in the stomach, then punched his face again, and that sent him to the ground like a pile of rocks.

Dinah opened her eyes and squinted to see you, trying to rid herself of her blurred vision. “(Y/n)… Please don’t…-”

“I’m not here to kill you,” You pulled out a smoke pellet. “Unless you don’t stay out of my way.” All traces of (Y/n) (L/n) were gone, replaced with an ice-hearted machine that was hell-bent on revenge. You threw down the smoke pellet, and the small clearing filled with non-toxic smoke that hid your position. 

Black Canary and Green Arrow heard the growl of your motorcycle before you sped off, disappearing into the night.

Almost an hour later, Dinah and Oliver supported each other as they walked out of the zeta tube, beaten, bruised, and bloody.

Recognized: Green Arrow 08, Black Canary 13

Batman, as well as your former team, turned to look at them and they were all alarmed to see them in such terrible condition. Batman was briefly stunned that you took down two Justice League members single handedly, but he remembered your relentless training. So that’s why you sparred every chance you got.

“Whoa, what happened!?” Conner asked and he ran over to help. M’gann and Batgirl followed suit, and they were shocked to see one of Green Arrow’s arrows deep in Dinah’s shoulder.

Dinah looked up and tried to explain, but she went limp again with a quiet sob. She grunted when her shoulder was jostled, moving the arrow painfully. Oliver could barely talk anyway, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything about what you did. The team still didn’t know what happened and it started to scare them.

Batman averted his eyes before turning his gaze back to the young adults in front of him.

“Batman… What happened?” Nightwing asked cautiously, and then he noticed the lack of your presence. “And where’s Mockingbird?”

With an inaudible sigh, Batman delivered the grave news no one ever expected to hear. “Mockingbird went rogue.”

[tonystarktogo]

Tiny Tony Overlord Part 3

Part I | Part II | Read on AO3

Betaed by the amazing @folklejend. All remaining mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

Chapter 3 Recover

.Minor S.H.I.E.L.D. Unit.

Bix, whose birth certificate states the name Bianca Arlinda White, has had a terrible day so far. Admittedly, the good days have been few and far in between ever since Captain fucking America was rediscovered in the middle of fucking nowhere and successfully defrosted before the right people could get their hands on him. Like Iron Man’s creation hadn’t been bad enough—and really, who could have seen that one coming?

It’s not that Bix has an opinion on their existence one way or another, it’s just that superheroes tend to be, well. Messy. Not to mention that there are only so many high horses and moral bullshit speeches you can listen to before you want to take a nearby machine gun and shut them the heck up yourself.

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And then there are those days where they open their damn mouth and take control of your most precious weapon because they apparently eat shameless amounts of luck for breakfast every day. Which is just not fair. Just because Bix doesn’t play with the good guys doesn’t mean fate is allowed to mess up every single mission Bix is in charge of. That just isn’t right!

“Enter,” a voice calls out, and Bix pushes the internal rant aside to be finished at another time in favour of entering the small, clean office.

Walter Brickley is the supervising officer of SHIELD’s local strike teams. He is also meticulously dressed, single, in his early thirties, and filled to the brim with confidence and self-importance. In other words he is perfect.

Bix observes Brickley’s expression closely. The way he takes in the expensive high heels, the form-fitting blouse with the top button undone, the manicured fingers and the skirt an inch shorter than SHIELD’s dress policies allow. Brickley isn’t a pig, thankfully. He doesn’t leer, doesn’t even stare excessively. It might have made the job easier, but there is always a fifty-fifty chance Bix will snap and break someone’s knee, and that never helps. He is interested though, if his dilated pupils are anything to go by.

“How can I help you, Miss?” Brickley asks, the picture of friendly competence.

Years of practice allow Bix to repress the instinctive grimace and paint a honeyed smile on instead.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Agent Brickley.” Bix shakes the man’s hand. “My name is Andrina Flynn. I work directly under Senator Stern. I was hoping the two of us could come to an agreement.”

* * * * *

Bix leaves Agent Brickley’s office twenty-five minutes later, the picture of the calm and collected secretary. The closest bathroom is right around the corner, and it takes Bix all of four minutes to replace the skirt with rugged pants, exchange the heels with black combat boots, and pull the long, wavy locks into a high ponytail. By the time Bix’s cell phone rings, the last traces of deep red lipstick have been wiped away and the face inside the mirror starts to look familiar again.

“Yes?” Bix answers, careful to use a deeper voice.

“Agent White, this is Agent Brickley. There is a minor internal security issue that needs to be taken care of immediately. STRIKE team 2 has been authorised to liquidate a threat towards National security. The details will be sent to your phone momentarily. Get a hold of your people and be ready to go in five.”

Bix smirks. “Copy that, sir.”

It is high time to get rid of a certain bothersome—if currently child-sized—genius and reclaim the organisation’s favourite toy.

“But how did you get Brickley to agree to this?” Archie Denver whispers quietly in the back of the trunk half an hour later. “The guy is squeaky clean like no other!”

“Oh, Archie.” Bix patronisingly pats the man on the head. “You’re thinking too simple again. You’re still operating under the assumption that you need an army of corrupt soldiers to take on the world. But you don’t.”

The unconcealed glee on Bix’s face makes their colleagues, Hydra and otherwise, shift nervously.

Good. They may survive this retrieval mission after all.

“All you need is one corrupt mole amongst a sea of honest fools.”

“Ma’am?” an eager trainee speaks up from the other side of the truck, oblivious to Bix’s reflexive twitch. “The target has been located.”

* * * * *

.Zach’s B&B.

Tony is abruptly reminded why he’s chosen to spend the last couple of hours on the uncomfortable seat when he tries to stand and his knees almost give out under him. The dull ache in the back of his head intensifies as well, causing the world to tilt sideways, and for a long moment, it’s all he can do to remain upright and remember how to breathe.

Through it all, Dead-Eyes stays motionless in the shadiest corner of the room and watches him with a blank face. When Tony is aware enough to notice, he appreciates the man’s silence. Mostly though, he just prays for the piercing pain to disappear.

It doesn’t.

“Pepper,” he whispers, the word so soft he almost chokes on it.

She doesn’t smile at him like she used to, hasn’t smiled at all since they’ve lost Rhodey, but he reads the understanding in her eyes. Traces the affection in her scarred features. She is still here after all, still stands tall and proud, brimming with the same fiery determination that has first brought her to his attention so many years ago.

“Tony.” She takes his hands into hers, the touch warm and familiar. “There is no cure.” Her voice doesn’t break, doesn’t waver and god, she is beautiful like this. “You know that. You’ve done the best you can, you’ve done everything you can.”

“Not everything.” His eyes burn.

“This isn’t your fault, Tony,” she says with unshakeable conviction. “I love you.”

Their kiss tastes of the tears they’ve forgotten how to cry and he can’t let go of her, can’t lose her, not after everything, not ever, but when she asks, he can’t deny her anything.

She walks into one of their facilities the next day with her head held high, one of Tony’s most devastating, amplified Jerichos strapped to her chest. She takes over 300 Others with her.

The last of Tony Stark dies with her.

Tony is kneeling on the ground, palms pressed against the solid floor, desperately trying to anchor himself to the present.

He is in a motel. The images in his head, no matter how vivid, aren’t real. Or, a darker voice in the back of his head whispers mockingly, are they?  

Tony swallows. Pepper’s face when she found out about the baby—too late, always too late—flashes before his eyes, a look of hopeless devastation so shattered, it tears him apart even now. He can’t recall the moments that have led up to this, nor what happened after. But does it really matter? At some point in time, it might have happened, and Tony can’t take that chance. Can’t allow his friend to ever feel pain like that again, not when he can still do something about it.

Stumbling towards the kitchen corner, Tony struggles to open a bottle of water with shaking hands.

His headache is worse than ever. A reflection perhaps of the utter chaos inside his mind, the strings woven too tightly together to be untangled without ripping them, the gaping holes in between that leave too many questions unanswered.

Tony sways back to the table. Takes another pill on autopilot. Swallows two gulps of water. He tries to set the glass down but his fingers are numb and the glass slips from his grasp. He doesn’t try to catch it. The glass shatters on the concrete with a clash.

“Feel better now?”

“No.”

“Throw another plate then. Maybe the world will magically become a better place. Maybe destroying what little we have left is the cure we’ve all been looking for.”

Tony glares at his oldest friend, who is entirely too blasé in the face of his fury. “What do you want, honey bear?”

“I just want to make sure you’re alright.” Rhodey steps a bit closer then, not close enough to touch yet, but close enough to remind Tony that he’s there. Rhodey is always there.

Almost against his will, Tony can feel some of the tension in his muscles dissipating. “Who cares?” he mutters, just to be a stubborn asshole. “I’m just the mass-murdering megalomaniac, aren’t I?”

“I take it the talk with Rogers didn’t go well.” Rhodey doesn’t look surprised. Truth be told, neither is Tony.

“Yeah,” Tony snorts derisively. “Turns out Captain America doesn’t abide to the, and I quote, ‘needless slaughter of tens of thousands of innocent civilians.’ Who would’ve thought, eh?”

For a moment, Tony simply stares at the remains of his destroyed kitchen. “He thinks there’s another way,” he whispers eventually, aware of how tired he sounds.

Rhodey’s hand squeezes his shoulder comfortingly. “What do you think?” he asks, face free of any judgement.

It allows Tony to say the words that have been drowned out by Steve’s single-minded determination far too often. “I think he’s right,” he admits. “There is another way. But we’ll lose people every day searching for it. And who’s to say that there’ll be anyone left to save by the time we’ve found it?”

Tony searches Rhodey’s eyes, wills his friend to understand.

“There’ll be collateral damage no matter which choice we make, and by—by not containing the damage, we aren’t saving the world, we aren’t even saving the people in the ghettos. We’re absolving ourselves of their deaths, nothing more.”

“Tones-“ Rhodey’s eyes are achingly gentle.

He is interrupted by an icy “‘Containing the damage’?” from behind them.

Tony feels sick. The memory is frightening in its clarity. He can picture the entire scene in his head, down to the colour of Rhodey’s shirt—red and yellow, because of course Rhodey would wear Iron Man merchandise for this kind of conversation—like it has happened only minutes ago, and the emotions it evokes are overwhelming.

There is only one question. Who the hell is Rhodey?

Out of the corner of his eyes, Tony catches a blurry shadow moving towards him but he can’t even muster up the will to shield his face. His headache is steadily getting worse. It’s impossible to focus on anything but the piercing pain deep within his skull, burning with an intensity that makes him want to crack his head open just to get it out. Pressing his flushed skin against the cool floor helps a little but the relief is short-lasting.

It feels like an eternity before Tony finds the will to turn onto his back. The only thing he wants to do right now is lie here and hope the world will stop turning around him at some point. He can’t though. Not when he doesn’t know what is happening to him and whether these symptoms will pass on their own. Who knows what the purpose of the weird energy that hit him was. It might work like a slow-acting poison. Hell, Tony’s physical self is decades younger than his mind; who knows what kind of effects such an imbalance has? What if his body can’t cope with the strain?

No, Tony can’t afford to waste more time. And once he has managed to formulate that thought in his head, he clings to it. Holds on with an iron determination that has been formed and shaped by terror and loss, left him unwilling to consider anything but success a possibility.

Somehow, Tony makes it back onto his feet and after he has blinked away the first bout of dizziness, things get a bit more manageable.

“Alright, Dead-Eyes,” Tony’s voice sounds about as terrible as he feels but he doubts his shadow will care. Actually, he’s starting to question whether Dead-Eyes is even capable of caring. “Clean this room out, don’t leave anything behind.”

The command sounds odd on his tongue, familiar almost, the way a song from your early childhood might be. Like he’s said it a thousand times before, often enough that the details of every occurrence blur and bleed together. Tony shakes the uncomfortable sensation off.

He will have to deal with Dead-Eyes eventually, but he is in no state to do a background check, never mind conduct an interrogation. Besides, so far the man hasn’t tried to kill him. That has to count for something.

“Ready?” he mumbles.

Dead-Eyes gives a sharp nod. He’s wearing his goggles and face mask again. The look isn’t as disturbing as it probably should be, but that seems to be a theme where Dead-Eyes is concerned.

“Cool.” Tony staggers towards the door. “Time to visit some old friends. Older friends. Urgh, whatever.”

They don’t even make it off the parking lot.

I’m enjoying this story a lot, hope you do too! Feel very welcome to share your thoughts and impressions!