#i tripped and rolled my ankle at work and even though there was a coworker that saw me fall and helped me up my boss didn't believe me cause

[c0smicw4rp]

I fucking hate this job

[practicingsmut]

Hot To Go!

yunjin x reader, 1.1k words, sorry for going MIA for like a month and a half I've been busy working on my novel that releases next week, hopefully after all that's died down I can work on more fun and pressure-free stuff like this

Working overnight shifts at the 24-hour diner you worked at wouldn’t be so bad if they’d stop sticking you with the outdoor tables. On top of the hot and humid summer night making you feel like a melting candle, the uneven pavement made it ten times harder to move around in the ridiculous roller skates they made the servers wear. Sure they were cute and matched the yellow vintage-looking mini dress that completed the uniform, but you’d rolled your ankles more than once checking on patrons and once you even witnessed your coworker accidentally spill a pitcher of water all over herself as her feet rolled out from under her.

Being a Saturday night with clear skies, you certainly had your work cut out for you for the majority of your shift. Things dropped off significantly around 3 in the morning, and now that it was just past 5am, the diner was nearly empty. You had one more group sitting in your section and with any luck it’d be your last seeing as your shift was over at 6.

Five girls sat around the table enjoying a loud and laughter filled night. They stumbled in around 2am, and it was clear from the way they were dressed that they had come from a fancy party or other similar event. They were all beautiful, but the one sitting closest to the door you used to enter and exit the patio area caught your eye. She wore a sparkly blue strapless dress and you were pretty sure her friends had referred to her as Yunjin.

“Alright, here’s the check you guys asked for. Anything else I can get for you?” you said as you skated back over to their table. You had to make a conscious effort not to stare at Yunjin, though your eyes were drawn to her as she spoke up. Thankfully she was too busy filling out the check to see the way your face reddened as you looked at her.

“No thank you, and here, you can put this on my card.” Her fingers grazed yours as she handed it to you and you could swear that her touch was electric. Still trying to avoid eye contact, you instead looked at her dazzling smile when she looked up at you.

Feeling ridiculous, your shook yourself out of your stupor and assured her that you’d be right back with her card before skating back to the diner door, moving with extra caution to avoid tripping and falling. That would be just your luck - embarrassing yourself royally just because a pretty girl looked at you and touched your hand.

You were only gone a few minutes running the card through the register, but when you returned only Yunjin was at the table; the other four girls were nowhere to be seen.

“Your friends ditch you after you paid for them?” you said, hoping your light hearted tone would make it clear you were joking.

Yunjin looked up from her phone and chuckled. “They’re waiting in the car.”

You nodded and handed her back her card. Even after it was put away in her bag, the both of you seemed to linger a moment, hesitating for some unknown reason. Yunjin was the one to break the silence.

“Would it be forward of me to ask what time your shift ends? And if it’s not too forward… would it be okay for me to come back then?” Even in the low light of the patio you could see her cheeks tinged pink, probably matching your own.

You shook your head as you checked your watch. “I’ve got about half an hour until I can get out of here, and I’d love to see you then.”

“Great,” Yunjin said with a sigh, seeming to have been holding her breath.

With a little half wave she excused herself to go drive her friends home, turning back to look at you for a moment when she reached the end of the patio. It was only once she was out of sight that you let out your breath. The next half an hour could not pass quickly enough.

Luckily for you, no one else came in and you were able to change out of your uniform and clock out from your shift on time - a few minutes early, even. That was how, at precisely 6:15am, you ended up two buildings over in a dark but surprisingly clean alleyway with your pants and underwear around your ankles and Yunjin’s face between your legs.

After what felt like eons of her eating you out like you were the last meal she was ever going to get, Yunjin pulled her mouth away from your cunt. Her lips glistened in the dim light and you were tempted to make a joke about how heavy she was breathing, but all you could do was gasp as her thumb began rubbing small circles on your clit.

“I’m not usually one to ask out a random pretty girl I see, but I’m so glad I did this time,” she whispered. You couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh.

“You know, I can’t say that I disagree with that.”

And then her tongue was on you again, tracing lines through your folds before teasing your hole with its tip - all the while her thumb was still working its magic on your clit. It only took a few more minutes before you were reaching your climax. You felt bad for how hard your hands were gripped in Yunjin’s hair, but with how tightly your whole body clenched before release you weren’t sure you could stop yourself.

Once you had ridden out your high against her face, Yunjin gently pulled your clothing back up before standing, taking a moment to adjust her dress before looking around a bit.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“I’m just looking for something to clean my mouth,” she answered with a sheepish giggle. How she could still be shy after giving you that great of an orgasm, you didn’t know.

“Here, let me get it,” you offered. You pulled her over to you, but instead of using your sleeve to clean her off like she expected, you just pulled her into a kiss. It was odd tasting yourself on someone else’s lips, but you had wanted to kiss her so badly that you didn’t mind.

This time you were both breathing heavily when you pulled apart. You attempted to take a little bit of control in the situation, sliding your hand over the curve of her ass and playing with the hem that had ridden up. Then suddenly all of Yunjin’s weight was pressing you against the wall, her thigh coming up to put pressure against your now clothed but still sensitive core.

“You know, I don’t think I’m quite done with my meal yet,” she started, a sly grin on her face. “Do you think I could take it to go?”

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

Lady Luck (Wanda Maximoff x autistic!ADHD!fem!reader)

*Not my GIF

Summary: You haven’t been having the best luck as of....well....ever. Life didn’t draw you the best deck of cards. In fact, as of recent, you seem to be having more bad cards drawn than good. But maybe, just maybe, bad luck can lead to better-than-good luck.

Warnings: Use of and mention of the r-word, somewhat suicidal ideation, a lot of injuries and damage, (physical and emotional) internalized ableism, a little blood, panic attack mention, sensory overload mention, hurt/comfort, some fluff, mentions of a cheating boyfriend, asshole coworkers, asshole boss, a liberal application of Murphy’s Law.

Author’s Note: I know so many of you are here for Yandere Wanda Maximoff, but I’m also up to doing non-yan Wanda. And I don’t think I’ve written something for Nat in a while. I’d also love to add Yelena to my list of characters. Basically I kinda wanna expand my horizons as well, but I still love Yandere/Dark Wanda Maximoff, because trauma.

But this has been unfinished in my drafts for a while now, so I thought I’d finish it up and post it. :)

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

Your eyes shoot open as your late alarm goes off. You’d only planned to sleep for ten more minutes, but now it’s been forty; you went to bed at 5 am last night and your work starts at 9 am. You stumble out of bed and to the closet where you throw on something, you aren’t quite sure what, though. 

Breakfast isn’t feasible, even on the go. You have a lot to catch up on at the office. You were assigned to get a report done on The Avengers, which was the reason you stayed up so late. Unfortunately, that didn’t necessarily mean you’d get to meet them. In fact like usual, you weren’t even supposed to be the one going out on the scene, but the one writing out and editing the article like usual. Still stuck in the office like usual. If only you could meet them face to face, especially Black Widow and extra especially....Scarlet Witch....

You don’t exactly have the best poker face in the office, so everyone knows of your little crush on the Sokovian beauty; you’ve seen her the few times you’ve managed to get a look when the fights raged past your office window. Her movements are tense, but graceful. Her attacks are beautiful, but deadly. Her hair practically twirling like a graceful ballerina in the breeze. She also has this enigmatic aura about her, and as a reporter, you’re drawn to finding the answers shrouded within mystery. Even just the mere thought of her sends you into a blushing frenzy.

It rains the moment you step outside, snapping you out of your daze for Scarlet Witch, but you don’t have time to get an umbrella. You just have to make a dash for it. 

You nearly get plowed down by taxis. These spikes of adrenaline nearly give you panic attacks.

You trip into the road and twist your ankle. The pain surges through you as you get up and limp over while the taxi drivers honk in your ears and yell angrily.

When you get to the other side, you end up tripping again and twisting your other ankle. Your legs are full of scratches and bruises. 

You’re half an hour late to the office. The elevator isn’t working and your work is on the top floor. No coffee and doughnuts for you, you’re sopping wet, and your boss is in a bad mood as it is. You get lectured by your boss on everything; timeliness, appearance, work ethic, in fact it sounds like you’re close to getting fired.

You sit down at your desk and you find out that your laptop isn’t protected enough. The screen is completely wrecked, the mouse pad looks like a toddler had stomped on it, and the W and M keys are the only ones still intact with the keyboard.

You’re trying to get your work done by hand for now, but then a crowd forms in the doorway as Penny, the most popular Investigative Reporter in the office, appears with her newest photos and notes. You roll your eyes, dreading her approaching you. No, she’s not mean, (in fact she’s one of the sweetest people in the office) but you’re the writer and editor in charge of writing up her on-scene reports; because she’s so popular, she gets the most work and the best stories to report on. And that means MUCH MORE WORK for you.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” she smiles before noticing your tired expression. “Something wrong?”

“What isn’t wrong with her?” one of the other employees scoffs.

“Leave her alone!” Penny exclaims before turning back to you. “Poor girl, you’re really due for some good luck. Here, why don’t I sit down with you and we can discuss the details of this report? And perhaps you can tell me what’s been goin’ on as well.”

She pulls up a nearby chair.

“No, it’s fine,” you begin shyly. “I don’t wanna bother you--”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. I promise it won’t be a bother,” she assures you as she sits down. “After all, we’re a team; we gotta look out for each other.”

You and Penny talk a bit more; the only reason your boss doesn’t stop her is because you two tend to exchange report details to get the most accurate story possible. Sometimes your conversations about the reports can go on for hours, so it’s not really a surprise you two end up talking for a while.

But unfortunately, Penny doesn’t seem to be your good luck charm, because in the hours you two talk over the reports and your lives, this happens:

-You’re sent photos of your boyfriend cheating on you by your sister.

-Then he breaks up with you over text.

-You get scalding hot coffee spilled on you, both accidentally and not, multiple times.

-You find out the hard way that the lunch you prepared the night before did not withstand the rush to the office, or the multiple times that you tripped.

-You also desperately need a new bag.

-Likewise, the reports about the Avengers that you stayed up until about 5 am writing and proofreading and editing didn’t survive any of it either.

-And all of those reports are on your now-broken laptop.

-And ONLY on that laptop.

-A coworker carelessly sticks his piece of gum in your hair.

-One of the wheels on your office chair snaps off and you fall hard on top of your wet and messy bag. You hit your head against your desk. 

-You also feel one of your wrists move in a way that it probably shouldn’t have.

-When you get up, you see some blood on your desk.

-There’s nothing that can be used as an ice pack. Or a bandage. So you just wash the area where you hit your head. 

-This only gets the gum more tangled in your hair.

Thank goodness for Penny, who tries to help with what she can.

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

When 5 pm rolls around, everyone else gets to go home, but your boss makes you stay back. He lectures you about your conduct, as this isn’t the first time this has happened, and warns you that you’re close to being fired. And now, you’re forced to tidy up the office by yourself, despite your twisted ankles, tired state, grumbling stomach, severe wrist injury, and throbbing pain in your head.

What should’ve only taken 15 minutes ends up taking 3 hours. You go to check your phone, but find that it, too, is now decimated. Probably from the chair incident. After gathering your now-practically-powdered-remains of things, it takes you half an hour to walk back down to the lobby of the office. You step outside.

....The storm’s gotten worse.

Much. Worse.

And you without your umbrella....

Sighing, you slowly limp down the streets, thinking about all of this. Any typical person would’ve melted down and cried, but not you. You’ve grown accustomed to such a bad lot in life that you’re numb to it. At least that’s what you tell yourself. 

You’ve always been the “freak,” the “r-word,” the outcast, due to your disabilities. You didn’t know social cues, still don’t really understand them. Kids saw you as an easy target. Bullying just became an everyday thing for you. Your world slowly began to lose its color, its life, and you with it.

At least you don’t get overstimulated anymore. Or at least when you do, you’ve conditioned yourself to ignore it, even though it drains you.

All of a sudden, you feel yourself stumble from the mix of fatigue, emotional exhaustion, and hunger. Your vision becomes blurry.

“Hel......p....” you try to call out.

You barely see a flash of red as you pass out, hitting your head on the pavement.

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

When you come to, you don’t feel sopping-wet clothes or a pouring storm. You don’t feel as much pain in your head or stomach or wrist or in your body in general as before, nor do you feel the cold and wet sidewalks or streets of NYC. You don’t hear taxi horns or thunder or cranky pedestrians. Instead you hear the crackling of a fireplace; random bits of conversations that you can’t quite make out; a faint jazz tune on a radio somewhere; a woman’s voice humming a soft, beautiful lullaby. You feel a warm, soft, fluffy robe; something cold on your head; your wrist being wrapped in some sort of gauze or whatever; a nice warm blanket; a gentle, warm hand petting your head.

“Is she awake?”

“I think she’s beginning to come to.”

“What happened to her?”

“I don’t know. I was just heading back from the surveillance mission and she just fainted right onto the sidewalk. Poor dear. She looks like she’s been through it.”

“Yeah....”

It’s such a pleasant change after what you’ve gone through. You start to feel.....something. It’s been ages....what is this feeling? Security? Safety? Warmth? 

Opening your eyes slowly, you find yourself looking up at a pretty woman with nearly-auburn hair and beautiful green eyes. Almost immediately she gives you a soft smile and you feel your heart flutter.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” she says softly. “You took quite a fall back there.”

“What happened?” you hear the other voice ask.

You shrug.

“Just a bad day, I guess.”

“Well, clearly. I’m Natasha, by the way. You can call me Nat.”

“I’m Wanda,” the woman caring for you tells you.

You realize that they look familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on why.

“Sorry we haven’t been quite able to get the gum out of your hair,” Wanda says. “Or salvage.....any of your things really....”

You shrug.

“It’s nothing. Most of my stuff got demolished anyway....”

You hear your voice quiver and squeak.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing,” Nat says.

“Oh....I’m (y/n), by the way,” you exclaim. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Wanda assures you. “But Nat’s right. It doesn’t sound like nothing to me. Are you sure it’s just a bad day?”

You purse your lips and glance away. Wanda looks concerned and decides to read into your thoughts.

“Why should I bother to answer? Why would such angels care about an autistic retard like me? No one’s ever cared about me, except maybe Penny, but she’s probably doing it out of pity. My parents don’t understand me. My boyfriend cheated on me and broke up with me. And now I might be out of a job soon....Honestly....the world’s better off without me....”

She’s absolutely heartbroken.

“No, sweetie,” Wanda coos softly, stroking your face. “No. I promise the world would not be better off without you. Nat and I care about you a lot. You have a place in this world. Everyone does. And perhaps....your place could be here with us.”

This shocks you.

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly. I mean, my job and Penny--”

“Penny?” Nat asks. “Is she that reporter who’s been at a lot of our battles? Dark pixie cut? Dresses like she’s from the 1940s?”

“Huh? Yeah. Why?”

“I was wondering why your name sounded familiar! Wanda and I have talked to her occasionally when she needed to get some extra details. She’s brought you up several times, especially how you’ve wanted to meet us, and.....how you’ve got a crush on Wanda.”

Hearing this, you finally make the connection as to who’s caring for you. Your eyes widen and your cheeks blare a deep scarlet. Seeing this Wanda giggles.

“You know, if you weren’t injured, I’d be squeezing you in a hug right about now. You’re adorable.”

Your cheeks are full-on scarlet now.

“Um....you know....my keyboard....the keys--”

“Still had the letters W and M on them?” Nat asks.

You nod.

“Maybe it’s a sign, Wands. Hm? I mean, you’ve talked about how you’ve really wanted to meet her, especially after Penny showed you her picture--”

“Nat!” Wanda giggles.

“Huh?” You’re confused.

The Sokovian beauty turns back to you.

“Nat’s been trying to get me to meet people....I don’t really leave the compound aside from missions and she thinks me having someone could be beneficial. And honestly.....I don’t think I’d be opposed to it if you’re my someone.”

“Knew it!” Nat calls out.

You find yourself stumbling on your words.

“So....(y/n),” Wanda begins. “Would you.....be my special someone?”

You try to come up with a witty response.

“O-only if you become my....Lady Luck,” you sputter out.

Hearing this she giggles and scrunches up her nose, making your heart flutter even more.

“Of course I will, you cutie pie,” she answers.

And then the unexpected happens.

She leans down and plants a soft kiss on your nose. On impulse, it twitches like a bunny’s and Wanda gasps endearingly.

“(Y/N), you are too precious!” 

This goes on for sometime until you’re able to sit up. You tell Wanda a bit about your lot in life, and for the first time in your life, you cry, but now you have someone to comfort you. After some crying and comfort, Wanda makes you some food and afterwards, she decides to introduce you to her favorite sitcom; The Dick Van Dyke Show. You don’t mind cuddling, now that you feel safe around her. By the end of the night, you two doze off on the couch, The Dick Van Dyke Show quietly playing on the TV. Wanda’s the first to nod off, which surprises you, considering how little sleep you had the night before. But soon you begin to get sleepy. As you do, you look over at your now-girlfriend and you think to yourself the last thing you ever thought you would.

“Damn....how did I get so lucky?”

[sergeantxrogers]

| sanctified |

Summary: Bucky Barnes’ holy grail and safe haven are your body and soul, and after getting a taste of them, he finally knows what it means to be a sinner. 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Smut!! (switch!Bucky, choking, light spanking, orgasm control, slight exhibitionism), some crying, confessions of love baby

____________________

Bucky Barnes never had a serious girlfriend. Sure, there were girls he’d go out with, press a little smooch to their lips just out of principle, girls he’d walk home after a trip to the fair, girls that would follow him around Brooklyn watching his every move in the hopes that they would catch his eye and that he would give them more than just a polite smile. 

Bucky Barnes used to be a ladies’ man, girls batting their lashes at him when he and Steve passed by on their way to Bucky’s place for dinner, throwing themselves at his feet any chance they’d get because they wanted to be something special to him, they wanted to mean something to him, and Bucky always rejected anything serious with grace. 

And then he fell from the train. And he hadn’t seen a girl his age for almost 50 years after that. He had forgotten what it was like to be smiled at, to be searched for in a crowd, for someone to call out his name - his real name, not Soldat. 

He had gotten used to the harsh orders and cruel insults, the flirty, boyish Bucky that winked at the ladies and guided them during dances hidden and stashed away somewhere deep inside him, dormant and asleep. He was fine with being ignored after everything that happened with Steve, and the fall of HYDRA, and Shuri “fixing” his brain. Fine with staying in the shadows when he didn’t need to be out of them, fine with avoiding people and missing their eye, slipping through the streets of New York like a cat, his only goal to get from point A to point B.

Until he met you. 

You, the part-time waitress that worked at the restaurant he frequented with Mr. Nakajima. Bucky took a liking to you the second he saw you. The do no harm, take no shit attitude that every fiber of your being seemed to be dipped in intrigued him. He liked watching you work, multitasking between orders and receipts and drinks and money and all things in between. It was fascinating to him, especially the side-eyed glances you’d give him with an accompanying little smirk whenever he sat down at the counter with his older friend. Intriguing you were, so much so that he quickly learned what days you came in, and what days you didn’t: Monday, Wednesday and Friday. 

Yori kept pushing him to ask out the “pretty waitress” at the restaurant, and though she was pretty, she wasn’t the one he had his eye on. 

“You should go out with her, she’s a nice girl,” Yori’s soft voice would mutter into his ear, and Bucky would give him a smile and a shake of his head.

If only you knew, Yori. If only you knew, he thought. 

The flirting started simple enough: a sly smile as you greeted him when he walked in. An “accidental” brush of the hand when you’d hand him his third beer. Biting your lip whenever he called your name out to pay. It was simple enough that Bucky’s elderly friend stayed oblivious on the Wednesdays they’d go out for lunch together. 

And truly, Bucky had no reason to come to the restaurant three times a week, twice without the company of Mr. Nakajima. No reason but the sight of you, and it was enough to keep him drawn in, keep him coming and throwing his money on food he never ate and beers he downed without a second thought because he was so enamored by the way your eyes glimmered whenever you gave him a smile. 

Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays went by and by until he started dropping his gaze below your neck, pants growing uncomfortably tight at the way you’d bend over to get a new roll of receipts under the counter, or the small sliver of stomach he would notice beneath your shirt whenever you’d reach up for a glass. 

And it wasn’t like you were oblivious either; on the contrary, you stared at the door on the days you knew he’d come in, waiting anxiously for him to come and sit down just so you could feel his presence. It wasn’t that long before you were asking your coworkers to cover you for a few minutes just so you could lean against the counter by him to chat (and give him a peak of something special, but that was besides the point). 

Chats soon turned into jokes and full-blown conversations, with Bucky staying behind long after closing time just to talk to you about anything and everything, from his past to the way you wore your hair on that particular day. 

Which is how you found yourself in your current little predicament. 

“Fuck, Bucky,” you hissed, slapping your hand against the counter beneath you. 

Bucky’s hand travelled up your back, entangling in your hair and pulling your head back, your back arching against him. 

“What happened, baby?” he cooed into your ear, thrusts relentless and never faltering. You whined in response, swallowing back a heavy breath as his lips trailed against your shoulder.

“So... so good,” you managed, and you felt him smirk against your skin. 

His hand left your hair, snaking around to the front to wrap around your neck loosely, and a chill ran down your spine. 

11:47 p.m. and an hour and a half past closing time, shades only half shut on the glass door of the entrance, the only light in the room coming from the streetlight outside and the digital clock on the wall behind you. 

Heavy lidded eyes traveled to watch the door, only a few feet away from where Bucky was pounding persistently into you, your skirt flipped up and panties around your ankles. The fact that anybody walking by would just have to look through the blinds to see you getting railed made you breathless.

Bucky’s low hum floated into your ears, hot breath fanning against your cheek as he rolled his hips to hit that spot that made you clench around him. 

“I’m- I’m gonna-”

Your stuttering made him slow his hips, and in return you whimpered.

“Gonna what? Gonna cum? Hm?”

You huffed at his condescending tone, and he slowed down even more, to the point where you could feel him dragging along your walls, hot and heavy. 

“What if I just-”

Bucky stopped moving his hips completely, and tears pricked at the back of your eyes as your chest heaved, his grip tightening only slightly around your throat.

“- don’t let you?” he finished, pulling out almost completely then, and you groaned in frustration. You felt the knot that had been forming in your stomach loosen, the tingling in your legs fading, and you furrowed your brows in a desperate plea for release.

“P-please,” you mewled. “Please, please, I need to, I have to-”

Bucky seemed to be satisfied with your begging, because he thrusted himself into you again, bottoming out with the slap of skin on skin and your quiet, breathy moans being the only sounds in the restaurant. Each thrust brought out a moan from your lips, a layer of sweat covering your skin. The first tear left your waterline and rolled down your cheek as he pressed down harder against you, the edge of the counter digging into your hip bones deliciously. 

“More,” you whispered, eyes clenched shut as your head went dizzy with pleasure. 

Bucky obliged, nipping at your neck as his hand that wasn’t wrapped around your throat travelled downwards to lay a slap to your ass, and you hissed at the sting. Your orgasm washed over you quickly, eyes rolling to the back of your head and legs going weak. If it wasn’t for Bucky’s body holding you upright against the counter, you were certain you would’ve collapsed. Warmth took over your belly as Bucky groaned in your ear, cumming inside you, and he let go of your neck, allowing you to drop your head down in an attempt to catch your breath. 

After he had pulled out of you carefully, helping you pull your panties back up, you turned around, a lazy smile on your lips as you leaned back against the counter on your elbows. Bucky gave you a skeptical look, smirk crawling onto his face as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“What is it?”

You shrugged, tugging at the hem of his shirt to straighten it out a bit. 

“Nothing,” you said mindlessly, smile only growing larger.

He chuckled in amusement, grabbing your hand in his. 

“What is it?”, he repeated, and you sighed dramatically.

“Well, I mean...,” you started, eyes travelling around behind him in false apprehension. “I hope you know this means you gotta take me out now, Barnes.”

Bucky stared at you for a moment, the grin on his face only brightening. 

“Alright, I promise I will.”

____________________

And Bucky kept his promise. 

Five days after your initial hook-up, Bucky came buzzing at your apartment building entrance, bouquet of flowers in his hands, smile on his face. 

“Wow, Barnes, I didn’t know you were into romantic gestures,” you teased, taking the flowers from his hands. He shrugged, shoving them into his pockets as he walked alongside you. 

“I wasn’t. Not really, never used to be.”

He glanced at you as he finished his sentence, but you were too preoccupied with the smell of fresh blossoms to notice the smile playing on his lips. 

“Things change, I guess,” he muttered, and you grinned at him. 

“So, where are we going?”

“I told you already,” he said with a teasing shake of his head. 

“It’s a surprise.”

____________________

Three official dates later and Bucky finally came up to your apartment. 

Albeit, a bit hesitant, because it was well past midnight and “I don’t wanna wake up your neighbors with my huge footsteps, doll.”

It took some convincing but he finally agreed to come up and sit with you a while. You said you would show him your favorite books, introduce him to some new literature he could catch up on. And you definitely planned on doing that, but things with Bucky have a funny way of playing out differently than you expect. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, doll-”

Humming in amusement, you smiled down at him, straddled around his thighs.

Your fingers gripping his hair, you held his head so his eyes were level with yours, and you saw the struggle in them as your other hand teased his cock through his boxers with gentle fingers. 

“What is it, baby?” you pouted, tugging harder on his hair, and he winced at the feeling. 

“Stop teasing,” he hissed through clenched teeth, and you feigned a disappointed frown. 

“Now that’s not very nice of you.”

Bucky shut his eyes quickly in a split second of frustration, and when he opened them again, you noticed his pupils were blown wide, staring into yours.

After a deep sigh, his demeanor changed, lids heavy and lips swollen from the bites and kisses you attacked them with previously. 

“Please...,” he said in a whisper. “Please don’t tease me.”

His words brought a smile to your face, and you pretended to think about it, tilting your head to the side slightly. 

“Alright, pretty boy, since you asked so nicely.”

You punctuated your sentence with a roll of your hips against his, and a soft whimper left his lips when your bare pussy rolled over his dick. 

Your fingers found the hem of his boxers, and you pulled them down, teasingly slow, Bucky lifting his hips a bit to make it easier for you. He breathed a sigh of relief at the feeling of release, and you felt your breath quicken at the sight of his cock, heavy and hard and begging to be touched. 

“Please.”

It came out quietly, desperately, as he stared into your eyes, and you almost smirked at the way he looked near tears. You hummed in adoration, leaning your head down somewhat to press a kiss to his lips. 

“So needy...,” you muttered into his mouth as you rolled your hips upwards, the tip of his cock gliding through your wet slit, and his hips bucked up involuntarily. 

He whined against your lips, nipping at the bottom one when you sank down onto his cock without warning. A sigh left your body when you felt him stretch you out, filling you out completely. You clenched around him, trying to adjust, and he groaned, forehead dropping against your chest. 

No matter how many times he’d been inside you, you always need time to adjust, and you would wait. Oh, you would wait hours if you needed to, because once you got a taste of him, that was it. You were ruined for other men. 

And Bucky could spend hours inside you, warm and wet and perfectly made for him, your body wrapped around his. All you had to do was ask him, and he would fall to his knees in worship. 

You sat on him, just like that, for... seconds? Minutes? An hour, maybe? Bucky couldn’t tell because it didn’t really matter to him. His mind was clouded with the feeling of you tight around his throbbing cock, and your lips on his neck and jaw, and your fingers in his hair. 

Bucky looked up at you, almost glowing with sex and gratification, and he swore to himself he would pray to you, pray for you, pray with you, every single day for the rest of his life. How he went a century without the absolution of your touch was entirely beyond him, but he knew he wouldn’t let you go now that he had you in his grasp. 

You started moving, slowly, teasingly, and Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. Sighs and pants left your lips at the feeling of being full, stuffed to the brim, and it took everything Bucky had in himself not to grab your hips and absolutely destroy you himself. 

“Oh, God,” you panted into his ear, rolling your hips, chasing your pleasure as Bucky’s chest heaved with labored breaths. 

It was pure torture, in the best way. His eyes watched the way your brows furrowed slightly in concentration, your lips slightly parted. Watched your hands search for purchase on his body, anywhere they could find, as you clenched tighter around him. 

If there was a place he had to choose to stay for the rest of eternity, it was here. 

“I love you,” he mumbled, almost subconsciously, and your movements faltered only slightly. 

Biting your lip, your eyes searched his face, and found only honesty. Bucky’s hands came up to rest on your thighs, fingers digging into them, the contrast of one warm hand and one cold hand sending shockwaves down your spine. 

“I love you more,” you whispered, pulling him in by his cheeks for a short kiss. 

Your pushes and pulls, ups and downs, gasps and moans grew quicker, more incessant, and Bucky could tell by the way your walls fluttered quickly around his cock that you were about to cum. 

____________________

He laid there, next to you. 

He laid there a long time, fingers tracing shapeless patters along your arm as you slept, and his eyes studied your face.

No, Bucky Barnes never had a serious girlfriend. There were girls he’d go out with, girls he would smooch. Girls he would walk home and girls he would smile at. None of them ever gave him the feeling he was running after, always thinking it was right there but always just out of reach. The feeling you gave him, like he was underwater but could still breathe. Like he was on fire but cold as ice, like he never breathed properly before he met you and now, after getting a taste of you, he would never be able to breathe properly without you again. 

He laid there, body heavy and mind satisfied, and he understood. He understood why Adam ate the apple, why Orpheus turned around. He understood why Sparta started a war for Helen, and he understood why Romeo drank the poison. 

He would do it all, sin and be punished a million times over if it meant he would get a glimpse of you every day. 

____________________

TAGLIST:

@dreamsley​ @a-ngeli-que​ @mindyoshiii​ @agirlinherhead​ @s-katergorl​ @ace-27749​ @leyannrae​ @tailsoflightning​ 

[soramei]

Intentional - Part 4

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut

Word Count: 3.4k

Masterlist

A/N: DOUBLE UPLOAD! So i decided to split this part in two since i didn't want it to drag on for too long... next part will be uploaded tomorrow!

Taglist (reply to be tagged!): @planetdemon​ @hvunvely​ @fluffybitch0325​ @fashi0nablee @juststop88

You picked up the lanyard, looking between your burnt jacket in one hand and the vandalized piece of plastic in the other. The burnt polyester felt rough against your fingers. It was littered with black holes, almost to the point where it was unrecognizable as your jacket.

The lanyard, on the other hand, was almost untouched — save for the black marker that was sketched on the plastic. In the picture, on the part where your upper body was showing, there was only the black marker. The black blob stretched across your torso, the shape depicting a hoodie. Your eyes landed on the eyes in your picture. Thick lines drawn in the shape of an X covered both of them.

You quickly entered your apartment, hoping nobody saw you. You then stood completely still, listening to the silence, trying to find if anybody had broken into your home. After a minute, when it seemed as if you were the only person in there, you decided to lay the two vandalized items on your desk to further analyze them.

Your brain immediately tried to play this down by assuming that these were just kids who did this to your stuff, after all, it was something very immature. Children were the only people who had the time to play with fire and draw on other people’s pictures.

However, your gut told you something different. Why was your jacket along with your lanyard placed right in front of your apartment? Why was the marker outline specifically in the shape of a hoodie? Who could have known you were in the parking lot at that time of day?

Your mind drifted to one specific person. Manager Kim. He not only saw that you were in the parking lot that day with that jacket on, but also he knew your face from the lanyard. But why would he do something this childish? And how did he know where you lived?

The parking lot security guard had also been there when you wore that jacket, but he didn’t even look at you. And he would have no motive to do this sort of thing.

You rubbed your chin in thought, still not understanding everything. Was there somebody else that knew you were there?

Still feeling anxious, you began to prepare a cup of tea. You were reminded of Bang Chan. The tea. The smell of his hoodie.

His hoodie. The black hoodie.

Realization hit you like a truck as your eyes widened in disbelief. Was it maybe… Bang Chan?

Your heart was beating out of your chest. Hands shaking, you picked up your phone to call him, silently begging for the mysterious person to not be him.

He picked up.

“Hello? Y/n?”

You stayed silent.

“Is there something wrong?” He asked.

“I… I lost my jacket and it had my lanyard in it,” you tried to be careful with your words, not wanting to rouse suspicion from him, “have you seen it anywhere?”

“No,” you could almost see Bang Chan furrowing his eyebrows, “I’m still in the building though. I could look for it?”

“That’s alright,” you sighed in relief. He genuinely sounded confused, and plus, he was always so nice — there was no way he would ever do this kind of thing to you. You felt guilty for even suspecting him. “Thanks for offering though.”

“Y/n.”

“Hmm?”

“I know I said this before, but,” he paused, “if you need help with anything I’ll be there. I mean it.”

A chill ran down your spine at the seriousness of his voice. “I know. Thanks.”

You hung up, uneasy. The problem was unsolved, and to be honest, you were a little scared. There was somebody that knew who you were and where you lived. It was probably a good idea to change the passcode to your lock.

The kettle started to whistle. You turned off the flame of your stove and poured yourself a cup of tea, hoping that it would calm you down. Although it did a little, you still felt apprehensive about the whole thing. Your mood stayed the same the whole night, even when you tried to scroll through your phone or go to sleep.

The next day, you woke up with your mind cleared. No longer were you still feeling the aftershocks of the creepy jacket burner, and with your mood lifted more, you felt like you could think more objectively.

And that’s exactly what you did.

Throughout your whole week, this incident stuck in the back of your mind. Although your memory was getting fuzzier and fuzzier with the passing days, you still tried to work out who the culprit was in your free time.

Your mind was also filled with something else. Or was it someone else?

It seemed like, during the whole week, you couldn’t stop thinking of Bang Chan. You had to put part of the blame on him, though. Everytime he had a free moment in his busy schedule — granted it was rare that he did — he wanted to see you.

From secretly bringing you snacks from the vending machine to summoning you to his recording room in order to show his newest creation, he always seemed to stay busy even in his free time. You weren’t complaining, though. It was nice to have a friend who was so different from what you were used to.

You also spent a lot of time with Na-eun too. However, the time you spent with her felt different. Not in any good or bad way, just different. With her, it was mainly in the cafeteria, raving over the food after finally finding a free table. It was also trying to talk over everybody in the crowded streets as you two went shopping after work.

You liked it, sure. But with Bang Chan, every moment felt more intimate. Every smile, every laugh or brush of the hand. Was this what becoming friends felt like?

Other than these intrusive thoughts, the rest of your time was taken up by work. Although you were starting to get the hang of your tasks, there were still many mistakes made. Mistakes in which you had to profusely apologize to Manager Chen for, that you had to stay late nights to fix, mistakes which made you almost lose your mind. You hoped that Manager Chen could see your dedication to not only this project, but your job as a whole.

In the duration of this week, you managed to check in with every department involved with the project and partake in the finalization of the Mid-Autumn Festival content idea. It was decided that the group would do three activities: make lanterns, bake mooncakes, and share a fire while watching the moon. All while in the mountains.

You were surprised when Manager Chen asked you to come along to the shooting despite your inexperience. However, it wasn’t a chance you were going to pass up.

The week was hectic. So hectic, that you didn’t even realize it was almost over until Na-eun brought it up.

“Ugh, I wish I could just steal a whole tray of this food home,” you rolled your eyes. The two of you were raving once again at the cafeteria food. You wished you actually knew how to cook.

“Can you not cook?” She asked.

“I can fry an egg,” you said, stuffing more rice in your mouth.

“My six year old niece can do that,” she laughed. Her eyes widened. “What if I come over tonight and teach you? We’ll make fried rice, even you can’t screw that up.”

“Ha,” you said dryly. “I would, but I have literally nothing in my fridge.”

Na-eun gave you a deadpan look.

“How were you able to stay alive for the past couple weeks? At least you got skinner.” She sneered. “We’ll stop by the grocery store after work, I’ll teach you the bare minimum of living alone.”

And that was exactly what the two of you did. Right after you clocked out of work, you met up with Na-eun to go shopping. You decided to take out some cash to pay for your groceries, an action that Na-eun found hilarious. She was almost crying as she explained that a few groceries didn’t cost as much as you thought.

Your trip was successful. The two of you made it all the way back to your apartment and didn’t waste a second to get started. Halfway through setting things up, Na-eun got a text.

“Hey, is it okay if Yoojin comes? I guess she got jealous that I was here with you and she wasn’t.” She chuckled.

“Of course,” you eagerly nodded. “But, wouldn’t it be hard to get here with her injury?”

“What injury?”

“You know,” you continued, “her ankle.”

“She seemed fine to me.” Na-eun said as she started on the rice.

“Maybe she healed fast.” You shrugged.

“Maybe,” she shrugged back and returned to her task.

You texted Yoojin your address, and it wasn’t long before she was knocking at your door. You opened your door, and she immediately leaped at you for a hug.

“Oh, Y/n! I’m still so sorry for that day, I honestly feel horrible.” She pouted, her big eyes staring at you for a response.

“It’s really nothing, Yoojin.” You tried to sound casual. You let her in your apartment. “But, doesn’t your ankle hurt? There’s a lot of stairs coming up.”

“Oh, uhm, the doctor said it was only a minor injury.” She paused. “And I heal fast.”

“That’s good,” you smiled, patting her shoulder.

“But I still feel so bad, Y/n.” She whined. “Lemme make it up to you. I’ll set you up with this really hot guy I know. He’s a law student. You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”

“Kim Yoojin!” Na-eun yelled.

“How about it? You’re free tomorrow, right?” Yoojin looked at you, ignoring Na-eun.

“I guess so,” you hesitantly agreed, “since it’s the weekend tomorrow.”

“Great!” Yoojin wrapped her arms around you, jumping up and down. “I’ll text you everything tonight.”

Yoojin kept up with her promise. After the three of you stuffed yourselves with good food, your two friends decided to leave before it got too dark. It was just a bit later when Yoojin’s text came through. You were to have dinner with this man called Kang Taehyun at an Italian restaurant tomorrow. Although you weren’t too thrilled with the idea of eating pasta, you figured you could withstand it for one night on the basis of trying something new.

You didn’t know how you felt about going on this date. Although you were excited to meet somebody new, something just felt off. Plus, you’ve never been on a blind date before. Who knows how good Yoojin’s judge of character was, or if this guy was like anything that Yoojin described.

You sighed, putting those thoughts aside. It was just a one time thing anyways, and who knows? Maybe this could lead to something. You looked over at Bang Chan’s hoodie. His warm hoodie that smelled so much like him. You should return it soon.

It was almost like he read your mind. As soon as you looked away, your phone rang with a call from Bang Chan.

“Hello?” You picked up.

“Hey, did you find your jacket?” He asked. You were surprised he still remembered.

“No… not yet.” You drifted off.

“Oh. We’ll keep looking for it, yeah? I’ll just buy you a new one if you can’t find it.”

You giggled. A couple seconds of silence passed.

“My shoot ends at six tomorrow. Wanna go to that barbecue place I was talking about?” He asked.

That’s right. Bang Chan couldn’t stop raving about that barbecue restaurant the whole week. He was really excited as his diet would end when he was done with his photoshoot, and he was apparently craving meat the whole time. All his praise made you very eager to see what the hype was all about.

You were about to eagerly accept, but then you remembered the date you had just planned not even a moment earlier. “Can we go another time? I… kinda have a blind date tomorrow.”

A few more seconds passed before you heard Bang Chan’s voice again.

“Blind date?”

“Yeah, my friend set it up. We’re going to this Italian place. Apparently he’s a really nice and handsome guy. He’s a law student, too.”

“Wha- law student? Y/n, are you sure you should be going on a blind date now? I mean, you just got here. You don’t know the city that well and you don’t even like pasta. What if he’s dangerous?” Bang Chan scoffed, his words got faster with each sentence.

“Chan, it’s okay. You don’t need to worry, I’ll be safe. Plus, I trust my friend.”

“You mean your friend you only just met?”

Silence.

“I only just met you as well.” You spat, slightly insulted that he would speak like that about Yoojin.

There was more silence that lingered.

“Whatever. Have fun on your date.” Bang Chan spat back, his harsh tone matching yours. Right after he said that, he hung up.

You looked angrily at your phone. Frowning, you threw your phone on your bed. Who was he to get angry at you for having a blind date? You recognized the dangers of meeting somebody new, but you trusted Yoojin. You were confident that Yoojin was honest about Taehyun.

A boyfriend would be nice too. Ever since your last relationship early in your university career, you haven’t had the best luck with men. It could have been because of how closed off your old friend group was. Your friends stayed consistent ever since you were young, and it was way too awkward to date a friend. You also found yourself way too closed off to go out and meet any new people.

Yes, tomorrow would be a good experience, you told yourself.

The next day, the hours leading up to your date felt like they had passed way too fast. The call with Bang Chan from last night still lingered on your tongue like sour candy, but you were determined to push past that in order to get ready on your date. After all, you didn’t want any frown lines to show.

You were excited to get ready. The amount of time it took to do both your hair and makeup was embarrassingly long, as you wanted everything to look just right for tonight. You didn’t want a hair to be out of place. You also took your sweet time to pick an outfit. Although the skirt you picked out probably wasn’t fit for the fall weather, you stuck with it anyways, choosing to layer a jacket over your outfit. One of your non-burnt jackets.

Double checking yourself in the mirror one last time, you locked the door and headed out. The streets were busy tonight. They were filled with people of all ages trying to relax from their tiring week.

Finding the restaurant wasn’t a hassle as the place was conveniently located at one of the busiest streets for weekend night-life. Dim yellow lights illuminated the tall glass windows just enough for you to see just the shadows of people enjoying their Saturday night. Green vines wrapped around the building, twirling and twisting their way around every crevice available. You tried not to fiddle with your thumbs as you nervously entered the lavish looking Italian restaurant.

“Hello, table for Kang Taehyun?” You asked the hostess. She showed you to a little table right beside a window. It was illuminated by a single candle, and already had two glasses of wine placed on it. And sitting at the table, hands crossed in front of him, was a hideously gorgeous man.

He looked like something out of a drama, really. With his tall nose and his sharp jaw, you struggled to convince yourself that this was a real man. His hands looked twice the size of yours.

“Hi, Y/n?” He asked. “I’m Kang Taehyun.”

He smiled and gestured for you to sit in the empty chair in front of him. You politely greeted him back and sat down. The two of you made some small talk before ordering. He made some suggestions on what to order, but you didn’t really care. You knew you wouldn’t like any of the pastas anyway. Plus, you swore to yourself you wouldn’t be drinking alcohol in front of strangers again.

“I’m surprised you agreed to this date.” You said, awkwardly laughing. “Isn’t a law student supposed to be really busy, especially around this time?”

“Well, I’m mainly doing this as a favour for Yoojin. She helped me with one of my classes.” He took a swig of his wine. “That girl is crazy smart. Or should I say crazy, but smart?”

“Oh?” You didn't want to admit that you were a bit disappointed he only agreed because of a favour. But he was being honest, so that was fair. What he said about Yoojin, though, took you by surprise.

“I’ve only heard rumors,” he tilted his head, “but some say that once in first year she went crazy over a guy. Started stalking him and everything. Apparently she even burned all his textbooks just because he started talking to another girl. They weren’t even dating.”

Your eyes widened at the allegations. There was no way any of that was true. You couldn’t imagine Yoojin — sweet, sweet Yoojin — to be capable of anything like that. There was no way her big puppy dog eyes and her fluffy hair could hurt a soul.

“Are you sure that’s what happened?” You asked.

“I mean, the guy was put into a mental hospital shortly after everything happened,” he shrugged, “so who knows? Maybe he made everything up in his head.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You nodded your head in agreement. Some of your hair fell on your pasta. You blushed, quickly trying to dab the sauce away using a napkin.

“You know Y/n,” Taehyun chuckled, “you’re cute. You’re not my type. I mean, I’ve only ever dated models before, but maybe it’s time to start settling down since I’ll be working at the firm soon.”

Thanks, I guess? You thought. You honestly didn’t know if that was a compliment or a jab, but either way you felt slightly insulted. You didn’t know how to reply to that, but it didn’t take long before Taehyun started again.

“I mean, look at my ex,” he said as he pulled up a picture of his ex-girlfriend on Instagram. She looked flawless in her bikini. “There’s no way I could actually marry somebody like that, right?”

If he says ‘I mean’ one more time… You thought to yourself. This date was turning south fast. This man was extremely handsome — almost god-like — but every word that left his mouth was poison infused arrogance. You didn’t know which was worse: listening to the man in front of you talk about his ex, or eating the pasta that was ordered by him.

You tried your best to stay polite with him for the rest of the evening. It was hard, though, as his cocky personality kept poking you down the whole time. It wasn’t until you finally separated that you had space to breathe. Great, you were left both hungry and annoyed.

Turning the lights on in your home, you sat at the kitchen table, still annoyed over your bad night. You took out your phone, wanting to scroll through the food delivery apps to find something to eat. Your thumbs began drifting.

No, stop. You silently begged yourself. Please, not tonight.

Your body didn’t seem to listen to your mind, however, as your thumb stayed hovering over Bang Chan’s contact. You pleaded to yourself to not press it, but your fingers seemed to have an agenda of their own. You pressed his contact. The phone call started.

One ring. Two rings.

“Hello, Y/n?”

You were shocked. He wasn’t supposed to pick up. Not after how poorly your last conversation went. You didn’t know what to say.

“Chan, how was the photoshoot?” You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t expect him to even pick up.

“It went great — feels good that it’s over, though.” He chuckled.

You wanted to tell him about your date: how arrogant Taehyun was, how fancy the restaurant was, how nasty the pasta was. You wanted to say all that, but tonight it seemed like your body just wouldn’t cooperate with your mind. And sure enough, you caught your mouth running before your mind. But this time, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Chan,” you took a deep breath, “wanna come over?”

[thebountyfucker]

The Royal Affair - A Choose Your Own Prince Fic

18+ ONLY - NSFW

I wanted to try an experiment where I wrote a story with two parallel branches so readers could choose which character they wanted to read without me writing two separate fics! Let me know what you think! (Subject to more parts!)

Embo x AFAB!Reader or Cad Bane x AFAB!Reader

Tags/CW: Threats of violence/assault, embarrassment

Here's the link to my masterpost!

Want to be tagged in upcoming fics like this? Here's my taglist application!!

You eased up to the table, smiling despite yourself, and bowed your head. You didn’t say anything to them, as per the instructions from your boss, and carefully handed out the flutes of champagne. The royals prattled on in Durese, hardly paying you any mind, though the Prince did cast a glance up at you from the periphery of his vision. You bowed your head once more, and turned to leave.

-

You had never been more nervous in your life than you were now; with a tray of champagne flutes balanced in your hand, and the heel on your left shoe coming loose, you had to put the entirety of your focus onto your task at hand. It was a simple one, really - deliver the drinks to the Duros royal family, bow, and return back to the kitchen to fetch hors d'oeuvres. Simple. Easy. Yet the wobbling in your ankle frightened you. The last thing you needed was to drop the crystal flutes in front of everyone - or worse, on someone.

As you turned, you heard a loud snap, and your ankle buckled and rolled; you went down, your tray clattering to the floor. Conversations around you stopped, and the gazes of three royal families found you collapsed on the floor. A horrified blush crept up on your cheeks as you crawled toward your tray and gathered it up in your arms; you pulled off your shoes and slowly stood, pain blossoming from your ankle. You limped to the back room, and tossed your shoes straight into the garbage.

“What happened to you?” One of your coworkers, a pretty Rutian Twi’lek, asked, glancing down at your now bare feet and rapidly-swelling ankle.

“My fucking heel broke!”

“Oof, tough luck.” She shook her head as she kneeled down and prodded at your ankle. The pain was horrendous, but she didn’t look concerned. “It ain’t broken… I’ll see if I can get a wrap and some new shoes for you.”

“Thank you, Salicia.” You muttered as you sat down, propping your leg up on the seat beside you. Your other coworkers came and went, taking out drinks and snacks, and coming back with dishes and trash. They hardly spared you a glance. There was work to be done and attending to the weak link would only slow it down. You sighed softly as Salicia returned with a bandage and a pair of silken flats.

She sat beside you, gingerly lifting your leg to wrap your ankle. She was gentle, and the pressure of the bandage made it feel instantaneously better. When she had secured it in place, she handed you the pair of flats; colored a vibrant blue, the flats sported a winged lizard embroidered on each of the sides. The slippers clashed with your uniform, but it was better than nothing; you eased them on, and cast Salicia a glance.

“Queen Esmera gave these to me when she saw me asking the other girls. She saw you fall, said these would probably be more comfortable than anything we could offer.” She explained, her lekku tips curling up as she shrugged. “I think she may be fishing for a thank you… so… you might want to go out and tell her.”

“Alright.” You sighed as you stood and brought your tray back to the bar; the bartender noted you with a frown, but knew better than to say anything. “Can you get me seven glasses of your most expensive Phatrongi red? You can… add it to the party’s tab.”

“Did Queen Esmera give you those?” He asked, suspicion heavy in his voice. You glanced down at your shoes and nodded.

“Yep.”

“I suppose the wine is a ‘thank you’ to her.” He muttered, waiting for your nod, before continuing. “And you’re stroking her ego because…?”

“Because it’s the polite thing to do, I guess.” You shrugged, and he shook his head as he poured the thick, purple wine into the glasses.

“Yeah. Polite. And then they turn around and treat you like trash.”

“They’ve been nice to me so far.” You muttered as he helped stack the seven glasses of red wine onto your tray. Your departure toward Queen Esmera’s table was slow-going, as you didn’t want to risk tripping or putting undue stress on your ankle. Your coworkers were careful about not bumping into you, but there were a few close calls.

You made your way toward the Kyuzan Queen, careful to stand a distance away in case she turned her head to regard you; her ostentatious crown, constructed of metals and jewels and silken cloths, was large enough that it could sweep the wine right off your tray. That was the last thing you wanted.

She did, in fact, turn when she noticed you, and you breathed a small sigh of relief as her crown cleared your tray. She offered you a kind, mask-less smile, and you bowed your head respectfully in response.

“Thank you for your kindne-.”

And then it happened. You took a few step closer and the slippers caught on something - likely the queen’s dress. You tripped, and the tray of wine went flying; the wine splashed upon the Queen’s lap and onto the table. The princes and the King jumped back from the table as the wine spread out toward them. Your heart plummeted to the bottom of your chest, and you dropped to your knees at her side.

“I am so sorry.” Tears welled in your eyes. Salicia rushed over with towels, much sooner than you expected, and thrust one at you; she mopped up the table, apologizing to the princes, while you gingerly dabbed at the Queen’s dress. The red wine marred her white and gold gown, and you knew that the stain would never come out. “Please forgive me. Please. I’ll do whatever you want to make it up to you.”

The Queen gingerly patted your head as you dabbed at her gown; the weight of her ring-covered hand was rather comforting, and it did make you feel quite a bit better.

“There, there, Little One.” Her voice was honeyed and velvet-smooth, yet there was an imposing timbre deep beneath it, as if she knew and reveled in the power she had in this situation. “It was an accident, and these things happen. It is okay.”

“It is not okay!” The King’s booming voice startled you from the calmed stupor the Queen had put you in. Your gaze focused on the Queen’s dress as the party hall went quiet. “This insolent worm ruined your dress!”

“There is no reason to be upset. What is done is done.” Queen Esmera continued to pat your head reassuringly.

“There must be recompense!”

“Enough. You are causing a scene.” Her voice was even and steely, and her husband eased back down into his chair. The waves of rage radiating off the king made your skin crawl - he was one of those kings where the rumors of his temper far outshined any good he had done. There were numerous stories about girls being used and thrown in ditches after minor misdeeds. You hoped your employer would protect you from the likes of him… but that was no certainty. “The dress is ruined. I will call for a maid to bring me another.”

“I’m so sorry.” You repeated, and she tilted your chin up.

“That is enough, Little One. Now run along, okay?” She smiled sweetly, and you got up with your metaphorical tail between your legs. You limped back to the staging room, where you found a bench and collapsed onto it. Tears threatened to spill over, but you rubbed them away with the heels of your hands. You felt so foolish, so demeaned. The worst part of this, though, was that it was all your fault. No royal had made you spill the wine. No royal purposefully tripped you, nor did they break the heel from your shoe. It was your own insolence. You buried your head in your hands, a strangled sob leaving your lips.

Someone sat down on the bench beside you. You figured it was Salicia, until you noticed their scent - it was woodsy and entirely manish. You couldn’t think of anyone you knew who smelled like that. Curious, you spread your fingers open and peeked through them; sitting beside you was one of the Kyuzan Princes - the youngest of the four, whose name, you believed, was Embo. He cast you a glance, his browridge cocked.

“Oh! Uh…” You wiped your eyes on your hands, and then wiped your hands on your skirt. “Hello there, Prince.”

“You are in trouble.” He spoke, his voice unwavering and deeply serious. Your heart skipped a beat, and your stomach dropped.

“W-what?”

“My father is like a jungle cat chasing a rat. In his eyes, you wronged him, and he will not rest until you pay the price.” He explained, his voice low and conspiratory.

“But I didn’t do anything to him!” You squeaked.

“You embarrassed him, and my mother. He believes you made fools of them both before our allies.” Embo explained, his hands laced together and resting on his lap. “I came to offer my help. The last thing I want is for someone undeserving to be left in a ditch to die.”

“But you’re his son. How can I trust you?”

“Just know that I would rather see him dead than let any harm come to you.” He replied, his gold eyes narrowed and a small growl rumbling in his chest. You blinked at him, and then looked down at your hands. “And he knows better than to touch anything I lay claim to. If I tell him you are under my protection, he will not dare bother you.”

“I… wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“Nonsense. My family keeps a large staff already. We would hardly notice one more.”

Your gaze remained on your hands, your mind running a million miles a minute. If you didn’t take the Prince’s protection, what would happen to you? Would the king stoop to harming you? It seemed that if his own son was worried, the answer was likely yes. So it would be best to go with the prince then. What if he was lying? What if this was all some elaborate ruse to get you into bed with him, or worse?

“I’ll… need time to think.” You replied, your voice shaking.

“Of course. You have until the end of the night.” He got up, dusting off his expensive suit, and disappeared through the door which led back out to the main hall.

You sat there, still trying to process what was going on; the staff around you stared at you, either concerned or shocked that you had gotten so close to the Prince without mention of sexual activities. You glanced at them, before standing.

“I… I need to take a walk.”

No one stopped you as you slipped out the door into the main hall. The royals were all happily conversing, and you noted that Queen Esmera had, indeed, changed her dress. You ducked down the hallway to the front door, desperately needing some fresh air to help clear your head. Ugh, you had a headache.

The guards allowed you outside, and you sat down on the top step to gather your wits. The warm, humid Coruscant air caressed your bare skin, grounding you to reality. The ambience of the thousands of speeders and marching of armor-clad guards drowned out any sounds from the gala itself. You buried your head in your hands once more, just trying to think.

“You’ve got some shit luck tonight.”

You turned toward the intruder, noting that the Duros Prince was approaching; he had a lit cig between his fingers, and he took a long drag.

“First de heel, den sullying Queen Esmera’s dress…” He shook his head as he eased down onto the step beside you. He offered you the cig, but you declined. “What gods did ya anger?”

“I don’t know.” You sighed, shaking your head. Cad leaned back, perching the cig between his lips.

“I assume de big guy already warned ya?”

“About his dad? Yeah.” You answered, your worry rising again; it was one thing to hear about the danger from the King’s son… now you were hearing it from an unrelated royal? Great….

“Den ya know you’ll need t’ low ‘til he comes t’ his sense, right?”

You nodded at this. “Prince Embo offered to let me stay with him.”

“Did he now? Doesn’t seem quite safe t’ be going back to de same home as yer threat.” He mused as he took a drag of his cig. “I came t’ offer de same thing.”

“Why?” You asked, wary of Cad’s intentions.

“Well, King Triakt has no domain over me and my family. And messing wit’ us could end badly fer him.” Cad drawled as he plucked the cig from his lips and flicked the ashes off of the end.

“Seems like a lot of trouble for someone you don’t know.”

“I don’t know ya but dat doesn’t mean I can’t extend some kindness.” He took a long drag of his cig.

“What’s the price?” You asked, watching his lips twitch into a small smirk.

“I don’ know yet. We’ll figure dat out as we go.” Cad smothered the cig beneath his boot. “Whaddya say?”

“I… need to think about it.”

“Sure, sure. When you make up yer mind, come find me.” He winked at you and stood, straightening out his outfit. He sauntered back inside, leaving you alone in your thoughts. Now, you just had to decide who to go with...

-

Who do you choose? Embo or Cad Bane

Tags List: @justanotherstarwarswhore, @doctor-ren, @that-clone-wars-girl, @some-serendipity-snail

[frenchbreads-writing]

Could I request something for Shinsou who is accepted in the the hero course with a bf who is still in the general course of UA? How would they handle the drastic change of Hitoshi changing courses? (or just any Shinsou insert tbh of this isn't anything you're really feeling atm) ❤️ love your writings

Day of Surprises|{Shinsou Hitoshi}

I tried going for the first idea but all of my ideas came out so sad for some reason😔

So I hope this is okay and that you don’t mind🥺

Also

479 FOLLOWERS.. ALMOST 500!? I didn’t even notice I want to thank you all I’m so glad you like what I write!! I love you guys so much and I hope you’ll stick around to watch me improve and keep making content for you all!💖💖

I hope you enjoy💖

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x Male Reader

Words: 1.7k (1,753)

Warning(s): Injuries, Badly written villain encounter

Requests: Closed

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

You stared at the ticking clock from behind the convenience store counter.

2 hours to go until your shift is over.

You covered your face and groaned. The store had been practically empty all day with only a handful of other teenagers popping in for a minute for snacks and other various things.

“(Y/N)?”

You jumped and turn around.

It was the store’s owner standing there. A short woman in her 40s with a permanent soft smile on her face.

“What’s got you so antsy today? You seem like you’re ready to bolt.”

You smiled.

“I have my first date with my boyfriend today after work.”

She smiled fondly.

“A first date is very important.”

You blushed and looked away.

“Yeah, I want to make it nice for him since it’s his first date too.”

The manager glanced at the clock and hummed.

“Well, the shop has been rather quiet today.”

She turned to you and smiled.

“I do suppose I can run the store myself until your coworker gets here.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as you faced her.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded and smiled.

“You’re a nice young man and you really help me a lot around here so I don’t mind letting you off early.”

You beamed before rushing to grab your stuff and clock out.

“I owe you one!”

You shouted as you rushed out.

As you jogged your way through the train station you pulled out your phone and proceeded to call Hitoshi.

The phone rang for a moment before you hear your boyfriend’s groggy voice answer the phone.

“Good morning Toshi how was your nap?”

You hear shifting and a groan before he speaks.

“It was good, are you on break?”

You pass through the ticket gates and walk to your platform.

“Yeah, the shop’s pretty crazy today for some reason.”

He hummed.

“Where are we going today?”

“I was hoping we could go to the mall and maybe to that new cafe that opened there a few weeks ago.”

“Sounds good to me.”

A yawn sounds from the other side.

“Toshi if you want to go back to sleep you can, I have to get back soon anyway.”

“Alright then, I’ll see you when you get here, bye.”

“Bye.”

The line clicked and you rushed into the train and await your destination.

When the train stopped you hopped out and headed home to change.

Unlocking and pushing your way inside the door you slipped off your shoes and made your way to your room.

You immediately went to your closet and began to brainstorm on what to wear. It was a casual date to the mall so nothing too fancy. Though everything you put together didn’t seem to be good enough.

Hitoshi had the same issue.

When you had called he wasn’t in bed at all. He was actually getting ready for the date.

He was rooting around his closet for what seemed to be forever. All of his outfits didn’t feel right for a date.

It’s been over an hour after your phone call and he wanted to surprise you at work but he couldn’t choose what to wear.

After picking up what felt to be the millionth article of clothing he thought.

’Screw it.’

And changed into the set of clothes he held in his hands.

He wore a plain black shirt with a purple jacket over it and a pair of ripped jeans.

It wasn’t the worst outfit he could’ve chosen so he’ll take that as a win.

He checked his phone.

’45 minutes left, enough time to get to his store before he gets off.’

Hitoshi quickly stuffed his keys and wallet into his pockets as he made his way to the front door.

Shouting a goodbye to his parents he opened the door. But he immediately froze when he caught sight of you frozen mid knock.

“Uh hey.”

“(Y/N) I thought you were at work?”

You rubbed the back of your neck and chuckled.

“Yeah I was able to leave early and I wanted to surprise you so um, surprise?”

Hitoshi smiled.

“Do you need anything else before we go?”

He shook his head and held out his hand. You took it, your larger hand enveloping his and with that, the two of you began on your way to the mall.

The two of you hadn’t had lunch yet. So after arriving at the mall the two of you immediately went straight to the food court. The two of you each got a simple snack to eat while walking around.

You visited a few stores, goofing around buying cute things. Like a matching set of fluffy cat socks, you insisted that you bought so the two of you could match.

The two of you were sitting on a bench when Hitoshi saw merch of your favorite hero through the window of a shop. So he excused himself with the excuse of using the restroom and walked away towards the store.

You had already bought him so much stuff that he had taken an interest in so he needed to get you at least something no matter how small it was.

He had paid and grabbed the bag his gift was in when a scream came from behind him followed by the sound of the shop’s window being shattered and a loud crash.

Hitoshi spun on his heel and witnessed the cause of the destruction. A trash can was embedded into the wall opposite from the shattered window.

He ran outside and there was more chaos.

Objects floating and slamming into walls and stores, some people already injured and being carried away by other civilians.

He needed to find you and make sure you were okay.

He ran in the direction you were going last.

The villain was standing in the center of the chaos, objects of varying sizes around them being lifted and thrown.

Even with objects almost hitting him Hitoshi still cried out your name and continued looking around frantically for any sign of you.

He didn’t have to look for long when someone shouted.

“Oh god, what’s that kid doing?”

His head snapped where the person was pointing to see you charging towards the villain.

“(Y/N) what are you doing?!”

Hearing Hitoshi’s voice made you pause and look over at him.

But as you look to your boyfriend you didn’t notice the display case being hurled at you.

“Look out!”

You looked and only had enough time to put your arms up to cover your face.

The case shattered and sent you flying backward until you landed sprawled out on the ground.

“Shit!”

Shinsou immediately began running to you.

He needed to get you and get away from there and wait for the actual heroes to come.

You groaned as you sat up placing a hand on your head the air was also knocked out of you from your rough landing.

It hurt but if it wasn’t for your quirk it would’ve hurt more.

“(Y/N)!”

You looked to see Hitoshi running to you.

He was so focused on you that he didn’t notice the villain dragged a nearby truck from outside and begin aiming it at him.

You noticed though and used a nearby wall to brace yourself as you climbed to your feet.

“Hitoshi, watch out!”

He gasped and his foot snagged on a piece of the ground that had been jutting out.

He looked up to see the truck heading towards him.

His mind blanked all he could do was close his eyes and press himself against the cold surface of the wall behind him.

But the pain never came. Instead, the sound of crunching metal and cracking concrete next to his head was all he heard.

Hitoshi cracked his eyes open to meet your worried gaze. He looked over your shoulder and saw your hand buried in the bumper of the now destroyed truck sitting behind you.

“-Toshi? Hitoshi!”

He jumped and looked at you.

“W-what?”

“I asked if you’re okay, here.”

You wrenched your hands from the holes you made and dusted them off before offering a hand to him.

He stared at your hand for a moment before grabbing it.

You hoisted him up with ease but as soon as Hitoshi’s feet hit the ground he cried out and stumbled into you.

“What’s wrong?”

Hitoshi winced and lifted his right foot off of the ground.

“My ankle, it hurts.”

You knelt and rolled his pant leg up to reveal that his ankle was red and starting to swell.

He must’ve twisted it when he tripped. You thought for a moment before an idea popped into your head.

You stood up and hooked an arm under his knees and simply picked him up princess style.

He yelped and clung to your shirt.

“I’ve got you now, let’s get out of here the heroes should be coming soon.”

And just as you said that the pro hero Kamui woods showed up.

“See? Perfect timing.”

You took off towards the mall’s exit with Hitoshi in your arms.

A while after the mall incident and getting checked by a paramedic getting Hitoshi’s ankle wrapped the two of you sat on a train. Your arm around Hitoshi’s shoulders and his head resting against your chest.

“Hey Toshi, sorry our date was ruined. I wasn’t even able to get you a gift since I dropped our stuff back there.”

“It’s fine I had a good time, minus the whole villain attacking the mall part.”

You smiled at him and were about to resume resting your head on his when he jolted up.

“Wait, hold on I almost forgot.”

He shoved his hand in his pocket and rooted around for a moment before pulling out a crumpled receipt and something shiny.

“I uh got us matching keychains, I managed to swipe them before we left.”

You took the keychain from his hand. It was a charm of a small black cat. It was a little scuffed but other than that it was okay.

You chuckled and pulled out your set of keys hooking the keychain onto it.

“Perfect.”

He blushed and looked away rubbing the back of his neck.

He wordlessly placed himself back into your side and placed his head on your chest.

You hooked your arm around his shoulders and gently pulled him closer.

Your first date will always be a rather memorable moment in your relationship. But now you can schedule even better dates. Ones without villains.

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

{Tag List}

@your-strangelove @yumeneji

(If you want to be added, just comment on this post or send an ask and I’ll be sure to tag you in future posts. And if you don’t want to be tagged anymore just ask to be taken off and I’ll do it asap.)

[artificialqueens]

I Know the Sound (Of Your Heart) (Rosnali) - Athena2

Denali works the overnight shift at a diner, and has a crush on the woman who hosts the radio show she listens to every night.

A/N: I've been busy with school and work lately, but I finally finished this and wanted to share it! Please leave feedback if you'd like, I really do love reading your comments. Thank you to Writ for beta-ing!

Title from the Sound by the 1975.

Denali doesn’t hate the night shift at the diner.

It has its slow times and busy times, especially on the weekends. It has its regular customers—the group of college kids that comes every Monday for all-you-can-eat-pancakes, the woman from the local paper who comes in a few nights a week and gets a to-go box of pastries for her coworkers on deadline. It has its good points, like her coworkers and the free slices of cakes and pies the owner lets them take, and its bad points, like the rude customers and weekend rushes.

It’s pretty much a typical nine-to-five--just nine at night until five in the morning.

The night shift isn’t ideal, but it’s easier with her schedule. She gets home a little after five in the morning, collapses into bed, and sleeps until ten or eleven. Then she heads to the ice rink and trains for hours before teaching a few afternoon lessons and going back to the diner. She’s tired, of course, so often it’s just her default state at this point. But the full-time coach at the rink is planning to leave soon, meaning she can pick up his hours and classes, and then she can quit the diner and practice more and get a reasonable amount of sleep. She just needs to tough it out another month or two, and she can do that. She’s been toughing it out on the ice for months, pushing past her bleary eyes and weary limbs to keep her place on the competition team.

She’s in the kitchen tonight, dropping baskets of fries into oil and making grilled cheese for the occasional customer, business mostly a crawl after eleven. But it’s quiet, and she gets to turn the owner’s ancient radio to her favorite station.

“--if you’re just joining us, welcome to the Pink Hour! Not sure why they call it that, because I’m here all night, but whatever, I just work here. I’m Rosé, I hope all you gorgeous listeners out there are having a lovely night.”

Denali leans against the grill and sighs. She found the show months ago, flipping through local radio stations on a drive home after forgetting her AUX cord. The host’s voice had pulled her in, and Denali stayed in the car for five minutes after reaching her apartment’s parking lot just so she could hear the rest of the story Rosé was telling. Within days, that station turned on the second her car roared to life, and she didn’t even bother with the AUX cord if she was driving at night. Not when she could listen to Rosé.

Her voice does something to Denali, makes her calm and happy all at once. It helps that Rosé tells hilarious stories about gigs she’s played and takes callers in between her song picks, playing their suggestions or giving them a listening ear or sharing some advice if they want it. It brings some excitement to an otherwise boring shift, gives Denali something to look forward to. The show runs from nine at night to five in the morning, and Denali likes that they have that in common, that they’re out there doing the same shift, with Rosé’s voice and perfect song selections keeping her company.

“I’m in a dancing mood tonight,” Rosé continues through the speakers. “I’d dance myself, but I’m too damn tired--hopefully they don’t bleep that out--so I’ll let ABBA take over. My parents played them all the time when I was a kid, and this one is my favorite.”

The unmistakable first notes of ‘Dancing Queen’ pour from the speakers, and Denali grins through her exhaustion, letting Rosé get her through the night.

---

“--So I’m standing there on stage, singing and minding my own business, and then a rat, a fu--a freaking rat runs in the bar. I ran for my life and tripped on the amp plug, and that, my lovely little listeners, is how I sprained my ankle last year. I just wish the story was more glamorous.”

Denali’s so lost in the story she accidentally tips an extra chicken tender in the fryer. Whatever, a little midnight snack won’t hurt. She brings the order out to one of two occupied tables, then devours her prize the second she’s out of sight. The radio is playing a Fleetwood Mac song, and Denali sighs as Brooke, the only other person working with her, pops in. They usually work the night shift together because Brooke spends her days training with some ballet company, and though they’re not super close, that combination of exhaustion and dedication has created an understanding between them, and one of them will often pick up the slack when the other is too tired to even stand.

“Contraband?” Brooke asks, nodding to Denali’s chicken-tender-stuffed cheeks. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

Denali finishes chewing and nods. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Still listening to that radio show? Why not just listen to a murder podcast like the rest of us?”

“Some of us aren’t obsessed with true crime, Hytes.” Denali rolls her eyes. “And why would I want to hear about people getting murdered on the way to their cars? I drive a car.”

Brooke snorts. “Fair.”

“I could probably kick their ass, though,” Denali says.

“You could,” Brooke agrees, then sighs. “I better get back out there. Enjoy the radio show.”

“Thanks.”

Denali turns it up a little after Brooke leaves, just in time to catch Rosé’s story about the song. Denali stands still as Rosé explains how she won her middle school talent show singing that song when she was just in sixth grade, how it made her want to sing all the time.

Denali can’t help but imagine Rosé singing, even if she doesn’t actually know what Rosé looks like. It would be easy to find her if she wanted to—the show has an Instagram page, and she would undoubtedly find Rosé there—but Denali likes the mystery of it. Likes keeping Rosé in her mind and behind her radio speakers. It’s ridiculous, probably, how much Denali likes hearing Rosé talk, but every word is so expressive, so passionate, and Denali feels like she’s gotten to know part of Rosé just through her stories, like how she got a guitar for her tenth birthday, or that she likes trying different fancy drinks when she goes to coffee shops, or that she had her first kiss in her car, hiding behind the high school gym--though that story makes Denali oddly jealous. It’s comforting, somehow, to know Rosé is out there, that she and Denali are occupying the same space and time, even if they’ve never met.

As long as Denali can hear her voice, things feel okay.

---

The nights continue, bleeding into days on the ice where the cold doesn’t even wake Denali up anymore because she’s so used to it. She’s tired, so tired she almost falls asleep in someone’s pile of leftover mashed potatoes, but she’s so close. The head coach is leaving in two weeks, and the rink’s manager already said the job is hers. Two more weeks and then she can sleep at night and be a normal level of tired like everyone else.

The song on the radio transitions into the crackling static of a caller connecting. Denali’s thought of calling in to request a song a few times, thinking that it would be like officially talking to Rosé--albeit over the phone--but she always chickens out before she can even type the first number. This is the most ridiculous crush Denali’s ever had, and she definitely has to call it a crush now, given all her fantasies of busting down the radio station’s door to ask Rosé out. She sighs and listens as the caller speaks. It’s a teenage boy, one trying and failing to sound older, telling Rosé about how he came out to his friends today, how they were so happy for him and want to throw a party this weekend. He had been nervous all week, the boy explains, and found Rosé’s show when he was up at night and used it to stay calm.

“Thank you,” Rosé says, and Denali can tell from how her voice is a little thick that she’s really touched. It’s not the first time she’s gotten calls like this, either. “I’m so happy things worked out for you. My friends and family were really supportive when I came out too, and I’m glad you’ll have that support. Be proud and be you, okay?” Rosé clears her throat. “Now, I hate to be that cheesy person--oh, who am I kidding, I love to be that person--but here’s a special song just for you.”

Denali laughs out loud as Diana Ross starts singing about coming out. This whole night, and how kind and genuine and sweet Rosé was, have only made Denali’s crush deepen. Maybe she should find Rosé, message her on Instagram. Denali can’t imagine seeing her in person, hearing that voice and that laugh so close. Finding out all the things about Rosé that she can’t get over the radio.

Maybe one day.

---

Denali’s almost home when she realizes she was so busy thinking about Rosé that she forgot her phone at the diner, and, tired as she is, she’d rather just go get it now than later. She trudges back in the place to hear a laugh--a laugh she knows for some reason, even if it doesn’t belong to any of her coworkers. And then she hears the voice, one excitedly reading out the pecan pancakes on the menu, and follows it to a booth in the corner. It’s coming from a woman with soft pink hair and a huge smile. She’s gorgeous, but it’s the voice that stops Denali in her tracks. Because she absolutely, unmistakably knows that voice. She listens to it every night, its smooth sound and cackling laughs flowing through the scuffed speakers of the radio.

The woman is Rosé.

It simply has to be. Even if Denali’s never seen her, she knows it has to be her. Who else could have that exact voice? Denali’s about to march over to the table when she slams into something, and looks up to see Brooke clutching her order pad in a death grip.

“What are you still doing here?” Denali asks.

“I was on my way out when that table”--Brooke nods to the corner--”came in. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a ridiculously beautiful woman at that table, and I’m gonna wait on her.”

Denali yanks the order pad out of her hand. “I’m waiting on her. Rosé is at that table!”

Brooke stares at her. “No, I think her name is Vanessa.”

Now Denali stares. What if she’s wrong and it’s not Rosé? She risks another glance at the booth and suddenly realizes there are two women there, and her eyes narrow. “Who are you talking about?” she asks Brooke suspiciously.

“The tiny one, with the brown hair.” Brooke crosses her arms. “Who are you talking about?”

“The one with the pink hair and the most amazing smile ever! She hosts that radio show I listen to every night!”

“Oh. Oh,” Brooke repeats, realization dawning on her. “Well, maybe we can both wait--“

“Excuse me,” a rough voice says, and Denali knows from Brooke’s deer-in-headlights-look that it’s the brunette. “Can someone show me where the bathroom is?”

“Brooke can,” Denali says, giving the blonde a gentle push, watching her trail with Vanessa out of sight and almost sprinting to the booth Rosé is now at by herself. She’s even prettier up close, with kind eyes and a perfect smile. Denali can do this. Except now that she’s here, she has no idea what she’s doing. Should she tell Rosé that she knows her? How creepy is it to admit that she recognized her voice?

“Can I help you?” Rosé asks, and hearing her voice close like this makes Denali surer than ever that it’s her. It sounds a little different in person, but it’s definitely her. It snaps her out of her thoughts, and she realizes she’s standing in front of the table in a waitress uniform with her mouth wide open.

“I should be asking you that,” Denali stammers, trying to recover. “Can I get you coffee or anything?”

“Can I get the caramel latte?”

“Of course.”

“My friend wanted coffee too, but I don’t think she’ll need it, considering how long she’s been in that bathroom with your friend.” She flashes a smirk, and Denali’s knees wobble.

“I don’t think she will either.” Denali snorts, but a rush of determination hits her. Things worked out for Brooke, so why can’t they work out for her too? And Rosé coming in here this morning—the morning Denali happens to forget her phone—feels like fate, like someone wanted them to meet. Screw it, Denali thinks. “Hey, uh, you have a show on the radio, right? Please don’t think I’m a creep, it’s just—I listen to it every night when I’m at work.”

“Always nice to meet a fan,” Rosé says. The smirk is still there, but it fades into a real smile. “But yes, I do have a show. I’m glad you like it.”

“I love you,” Denali blurts. “I--I love the show, I mean,” she says, her face on fire. “It’s kept me company at work. You’re really fun to listen to.”

“Thanks.” Denali might be imagining it, but there’s a hint of a blush in Rosé’s cheeks. “You probably know my name, but I’m Rosé.”

“I’m Denali.”

Rosé smiles again. “Denali, I think you’re pretty fun to listen to too. Would you want to go on a date sometime? Then we can listen to each other all night. I gotta warn you, though, I love to talk.”

“I’d love to. I can handle talking, believe me. Actually, you know what--” Denali slides into the other side of the booth, grinning at the excited look on Rosé’s face--”I’m off the clock. What do you say we have a date right now?” By the time she hits the ice she’ll be cursing herself for not sleeping, but she wants to talk to Rosé so bad, wants to spend this morning with her.

Rosé grins. “Absolutely. Do you think someone could get me that latte though?” she asks sheepishly. “I’m so tired.”

“Make that two.” Denali laughs and then flags down one of her coworkers, not wanting to miss a single second.

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 19

[ i promised a listen closer update and by god i will give y'all a listen closer update ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

It was the next week that all the final touches on the big game were complete, and John was ready to let himself inevitably die at the end. Amanda was out collecting Dr. Denlon, having already moved Matthews into the room for his trap. Garrett had already retrieved Jeff Denlon, the doctor’s husband, and had him set up in the crate he would have to escape to get started.

Mark was heading out to get the players in Rigg’s game at the same time Garrett was leaving to get the other parts of Jeff Denlon’s game. Theoretically, that meant they would be back at the same time, despite two of Mark’s players not needing to be brought in. He still had to set up the trap that would start off Rigg’s game, after knocking Rigg himself out.

If all went accordingly, that meant Garrett would be there to help Mark get set up for his role in the game. Mark really didn’t want Amanda to do it, and neither did Garrett.

Garrett probably had it the easiest out of the two of them. He could get all his players at once, since his car was large enough for all three of them and none of them really had a fighting chance against them.

He got the most difficult one first, the one that would be going on the rack. He put up a fight, but Garrett was faster. The second one he grabbed was the Judge, who was actually asleep when he came in. Last, but not least, the witness that did nothing.

Honestly, he didn’t think any of these people needed to be trapped. The crash was an accident, the judge was just doing his job- it’s not like the accident was murder- and the witness was probably just scared.

Denlon, however, deserved this and they, unfortunately, were part of it.

As expected, despite the planning, Garrett got back before Mark. This wasn’t ideal, but it was preferred over Mark getting back first. He was likely still setting up Rigg’s apartment and trap. He doubted it would take much longer, it had been several hours since they first left.

He took the chance to hang the witness up in the freezer room (he felt bad stripping her naked, but he knew it had to be done), chain the judge up in the meat vat (he knew he wouldn’t be able to watch this one), and set the second most important player up in the rack.

John watched him do this, apparently wanting to ensure that he did it right. Amanda stood behind him, her eyes never once leaving Garrett.

Really? She didn’t trust him?

Maybe she should change her mind on killing Lynn Denlon before deciding to be pissy with him.

He glared at her, the sight of his wide eyes narrowing making her visibly uncomfortable. He turned back to the trap, using his shoulder to hold him up as he strapped him in by the ankles. Once that part was done, a hand on his chest held him upright as Garrett strapped in his wrists. Last was his head.

Once that was done, Garrett sent one last glance at John and Amanda, debating saying something to them but being cut off before he got the chance by his phone beeping with a text.

Mark was back, and it was time to set him up.

---

“You know, you look awfully pretty tied down like this,” Garrett teased, tightening the straps on Mark’s wrists a little bit. He’d already gotten the ankle straps done, he was just making sure the wrist ones were secure.

Mark rolled his eyes at the statement. “Yeah, sure. Enjoy it while it lasts.” Oh, he definitely was going to.

Garrett was, rather unfortunately, the only apprentice not participating in the game. John had made it clear that he wanted someone to watch the whole thing at once, in order to make sure that all of the rules were followed. He was not, however, allowed to intervene.

Once Mark was strapped in, he moved on to Detective Matthews. Admittedly, it was rather difficult to get him onto the ice block and not accidentally hang him, but he worked it out.

After finishing up with the wires meant to be tripped and giving the lever that would activate the trap, he took one last glance at Mark, offered him a smile, and shut off the lights.

Art Blank would be arriving soon, and Rigg would be waking up in no time. It was time for him to get to his viewing room.

The door unlocked with a click, and relocked with a higher pitched one. He couldn’t have anyone getting in here- the operation surviving relied on Mark and Garrett keeping up the lie. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t get captured, he needed to put Strahm in his trap.

He sat down at the desk and turned on all of the monitors, not entirely sure how well he’ll be able to focus on all of them at once. If all else fails, he will probably just focus on Mark’s.

Though, he did want to make sure he watched the trap he built for Ivan. He was very invested in how it turned out since it was so much trouble to build.

He hummed a soft tune as he got set up, keeping a weapon close by in case someone did get into the room. He quieted down when Lynn woke up, and sat down to watch the game unfold.

It was going to be an interesting one, that’s for sure.

---

Amanda was starting to lose her cool, even Garrett could see that.

He’d chosen to turn his attention for the time being to John’s part of the game, while Jeff dealt with the Judge. He just couldn’t watch that trap- it was sickening, and that had to mean something when it came from someone like him.

Rigg was definitely taking his time as he went through his own part of the game, which was curious considering how desperate he was to get out of there. He’d only just put Ivan in the trap when Jeff freed the judge, staring at him for a moment before running out of there.

Next was the teacher and his wife, a trap Garrett wished he’d had the pleasure of putting together.

Obviously, he was fond of killing abusers. He had a plan for a game he would put together later with a similar premise of killing an abusive lover that the player just couldn’t leave. It wasn’t a punishment for staying- it was a key to freedom.

He watched as Rigg found the woman and her husband, flinching when she suddenly woke up. His attention turned back to Jeff, who was now entering the room with the Rack.

Amanda had decided to take a break from John’s game, storming out of the room and disappearing from the sight of the cameras. If Garrett had to guess, he’d say that she was probably cutting herself again.

She’d made him swear not to tell John, but even that precaution wasn’t needed because at this point, he wanted her out of the way. She killed with no remorse, and he couldn’t keep her in check like he could with Mark. Unfortunately, she had to go.

Garrett hummed as he turned to Mark’s game, Art Blank just now handing the gun over to Matthews. He watched as Matthews considered killing himself, loading the single bullet into the gun and pressing it against the underside of his jaw.

But, in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Garrett wasn’t sure if he was weak willed, or if he cared enough about Mark to not kill him.

Possibly both.

Rigg was helping the woman down now, putting his coat over her to keep her warm after the blood loss.

As he did that, Strahm and Perez entered the motel room where Ivan’s body lay. Through one of the cameras, Garrett had seen the addict that grabbed him last time he was there pull Strahm to the side, likely telling him in a frantic voice about the man with the wide eyes.

Knowing Strahm, he was going to ignore this completely.

In fact, he probably thought Rigg was the apprentice he was hunting, which was exactly what he was supposed to think.

Of course Strahm seemed angry while talking to Perez about the trap, but then she said something and he shut up. It seemed like it was a suggestion, because after a second, he pulled out his phone and typed something in.

Garrett didn’t realize he was making a call until his own phone started ringing.

“Shit-!” he hissed, not having accounted for the fact that of course Strahm would try to call the only Jigsaw specialist in. But he couldn’t leave, and none of them had time for this. He debated just letting it go to voicemail, but that would be suspicious, so he finally picked up.

“It’s my off day Strahm, I don’t care what kind of trap you’ve just run into, I’m not leaving my damn apartment,” he started immediately, cutting Strahm’s greeting off. There was silence for a moment, before Strahm spoke up again.

“I know, but this is the second trap we’ve come across. It’s a multistage game and-” Garrett cut him off once again, not willing to sit through the explanation of a game he was facilitating.

“All the more reason for me to not come in right now,” he said, glancing at Jeff’s game in time to watch the driver’s head get twisted all the way around, killing him instantly. “If it’s a multistage game, the likelihood of me walking into something I can’t defend myself from is too high. Contractually I can’t go.”

That was actually the truth. Part of the contract he signed when he was hired on was that if a trap was found and the game was still active, he couldn’t look at it. There was far too high of a chance that he could get hurt, and the police couldn’t handle that liability.

Strahm’s end of the phone was quiet, probably pressed against his chest as he spoke to Perez about something. Finally, he broke it. “Fine. I’m not getting fired over you.”

“Oh, don’t be so bitter,” Garrett all but hissed, watching Jeff try to find a way out as Rigg ran through the halls in search of his coworkers. “I have to go. Good luck.”

He hung up, and watched as Strahm got another location and rushed out of there.

Now his focus was solely on Amanda and Lynn. Amanda had a gun with her, apparently, and Garrett could tell that she was close to snapping. Hopefully she’d hold out long enough for Strahm to arrive.

---

Strahm was alone when he entered the building, blood spattered on his shirt and his gun drawn. Garrett watched as he and Jeff both headed for the same room, turning to one of the other monitors and watching Art get shot by Rigg.

He’d enjoyed watching Matthews die, his head crushed by the giant ice blocks suspended above him. Though, he was a bit surprised that Mark managed to avoid any of the chunks that went flying.

He heard gunshots, and watched Strahm kill Jeff. He grabbed his pig mask, and ran from the room, pulling it on as he went. He hid in the next room that Strahm was supposed to find, hidden by the shadows and pressed against the back of a pillar.

Strahm didn’t take long to get into the room, slowly making his way to one of the gurneys. He ran a hand over it, and Garrett rushed out at him, grabbing the back of his head and slamming it into the gurney before jabbing the needle into his neck.

The liquid went in, and Strahm went limp in his grasp. Garrett took the chance to look him over when he wasn’t hopped up on pain meds, humming softly as his thumb brushed over the agent’s cheek.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, he hoisted Strahm onto his shoulder and made his way to the water box room.

It wasn’t long before Strahm was set up in his trap, everything he’d been carrying on him laid out on a small table in front of him. Originally, Garrett was going to plant the pen on him before he woke up, but now… now he wanted him to know that the only reason he survived was that someone acting as Jigsaw spared him.

It’d be quite the ego killer.

Garrett stood in the darkness of the room as he waited for Strahm to wake, giving him a significantly watered down dose of the sedative they used so he would wake up sooner. The longer it took, the more he fidgeted, needing to get outside so he could have an alibi.

Finally, he woke up… and immediately started banging at the glass and yelling for help. Garrett tilted his head at him, watching him thrash until he pressed a button on a remote kept in his pocket, getting the water to flow.

He’d blocked out Strahm’s yelling at this point, waiting until the water was close to his mouth before slowly making his way over to him, the pen hidden in his hand by the sleeve of the jacket he wore.

Strahm froze for half a second before thrashing even harder the closer he got. Garrett pressed his gloved index finger to the mouth of the pig mask, before leaning close to Strahm and slipping the pen into his pocket.

They made eye contact for a few seconds, before Garrett was pulling away and leaving the building. He heard Strahm yell out to him, just barely hearing him beg for him to come back before the door was closed and he was removing anything that would make it seem like he was Jigsaw.

His mask, jacket, and gloves went in the back of his car. He also changed his general clothes at his car, making it seem more like he had just thrown some clothes on in a rush. Then he went around the building, slipping into the crowd at the front.

Once he saw Mark, he started to act panicked, just like he was supposed to. He shoved his way through the people, yelling out for his boyfriend when one of the cops keeping the crowd back grabbed him, saying something about civilians not being allowed past the tape.

“I’m the fucking specialist you ass!” Garrett spat, forcing his way out of their grasp and ducking under the tape and making a beeline for Mark.

He hit his lover’s chest hard, making him stumble back a little, but he immediately felt Mark’s arms around him. “Is everyone dead?” he whispered, looking up at the detective.

Mark just nodded. Of course, he didn’t know that Strahm was still alive, and he’d probably never know that that was because of Garrett. “It’s just us now.”

Garrett pulled him into a kiss to hide his grin from the cameras, one that Mark quickly returned. They both immediately pulled back when they heard someone say that they had a live one, finding Strahm laid out on a different gurney and being pulled into an ambulance.

“Shit,” Garrett hissed, glancing up at Mark, whose jaw had tightened at the sight of the agent. He looked down at Garrett, not angry with him but clearly angry at Strahm’s survival.

“I hope you have a plan to fix this…” he practically growled, his features softening when his boyfriend looked uncomfortable.

Garrett sighed softly, resting his forehead on Mark’s chest. “I always do. It’s gonna take time though.”

“Better than nothing.”

Hopefully, the questioning wouldn’t last too long.

[anoddkpopfan]

The Wine Cellar (Co-worker AU)

Words: 2.7k

This consists of: Daddy Kink, Dom!Jimin, Oral (male receiving), Dirty talk, You know, dirty stuff!

Synopsis: You’re an assistant who has a two year long crush on your boss’s secretary, Park Jimin. You believe it’s one-sided, but when your friend convinces you to hook up with someone else; Jimin’s real feelings might just come to light. 

It’s around nine o’clock pm, laughter and gossip fill the ballroom inside your boss’s house. Behind the uppity facade you can envision the thoughts running through your coworker’s minds. A great percentage of people came to this party to butter up to your boss, and you felt yourself holding back laughter as you watched your peers attempt to earn a pay raise or promotion in their ankle-length gowns and black tuxedos. 

What are you doing? Well, you’re sitting back and watching the show. You see, you are the CEO’s assistant. You have every other weekday to butter up to him, and you’ve come to this party for the free food and entertainment of watching people trip over themselves. You, along with your boss’s secretary (and the crush you’re too ashamed to admit), Park Jimin. The two of you planned to spend tonight mocking everyone earlier this morning. Though, you two weren’t as “alone” as you’d like to be.

Yeah, while a large percentage of guests made it their goal to get on your boss’s good side, another group of them were women looking for the opportunity to get into Park Jimin’s pants. After all, he is one of the more handsome men in the office with close ties to the CEO. He also gives off committable “vibes” considering that his body count within the office is nonexistent. Many of them were wary of you. You and Jimin have become awfully close in the last two years, and luckily you’re past your temporary Park Jimin obsession. Now you sort of admire him from afar, assuring his fangirls that the two of you are only friends. 

Though, you almost lost your cool the minute you saw him in his suit. 

Instead of a typical tux he wore a white collared shirt, along with a navy blue suit jacket and dress pants. He looked gorgeous, and he teased you the moment he noticed your eyes lingering on his appearance for an unreasonable amount of time. It wasn’t embarrassing or anything, the two of you playfully flirt quite often. In fact, many people in the office are convinced the two of you will get together one day. And of course, a part of you hopes they’re not wrong. 

You’d begun to zone out as you listened to a coworker list off all of the overtime he’d done this week to your boss. Jimin waltzed over to your side with two champagne glasses, placing one into your hands as he leaned against the wall next to you, “Are you going to thank me, or what?” 

You took the drink and raised an eyebrow, “For what? Trying to incriminate me? I can’t drive home drunk.” 

“It’s only one glass, sweetheart. No worries, you know I wouldn’t put you in danger.” Jimin pretended to ponder for a second, “Well, at least not with this many witnesses.” You playfully glare his way and he responds with a dumb smile that makes your heart melt. 

“On second thought, I shouldn’t drink this, it might be poisoned.” You held it towards him, and he unexpectedly moved closer to you, taking your drink and looking into your eyes as he took a sip from your glass, “No poison here.” 

He wanted a reaction out of you and he wasn’t going to get it. He walked past you, placing the champagne back in your hand before heading in your boss’s direction. You let out a sigh, closing your eyes for a second before opening them again. Your poor heart needs a break from this.  What you see next is a group of your girl friends motionig you over to them. You slowly (but surely) make your way towards them, but you weren’t sure why they wanted you over there. Your coworker Jung Yuna grabbed your hand, leading you over to the group of girls. Yuna hesitated for a second before asking you a question: 

“Y/n… we just wanted to know.. something is going on with you and Jimin, right?” Oh there was definitely something. But you weren’t sure about it all so you shake your head ‘no’.

“Really? It doesn’t seem like it.” Another one of your peers, Jae Ina chimed in. 

You shrug your shoulders, “No, I’m not with anyone at the moment.” A smile came to Yuna’s face and she locked arms with you, she turned you around and your eyes landed on Mark Tuan. Another bachelor in the office, except his body count is a bit off the charts, he’s charming and intelligent, or so you’ve heard. 

“A little bird told me that Mark has been waiting for the day the two of you hook up. I’m just saying if you’re really not with Jimin, why not make tonight fun for yourself?” Yuna suggests. You have a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. It’s not Mark’s fault, he is a handsome man, and you’re sure he’s good in the sack. But you couldn’t help but feel wrong about it.

“Well.. I, I guess it couldn’t hurt.” You mumble towards Yuna who nods her head at your words. Perhaps this Mark guy can bring you back into reality, and bring you out of this fantasy world where Jimin might just actually feel something for you. 

Mark’s eyes eventually wander towards your direction. Once the two of you make eye contact, he sends a smile your way, and you return it. He was talking to some of his buddies, he whispered something to them before putting his glass down and making his way towards your table. The girls at your table made eye contact before walking away, leaving you alone there.

“Y/n. I couldn’t help but notice you staring from across the room.” Mark immediately let out and you rolled your eyes at his words.

“It was only a quick glance, If anything.” You correct him before taking a sip of your glass. You soon remember the lips that touched the glass before and images of him flashed through your mind. 

Your eyes glanced to the side to see familiar eyes looking at you. Park Jimin was staring right in your direction with a confused look on his face. And you felt a fire erupt in you.

“A quick glance?” Mark said aloud, calling out your bullshit. Placing his hand on the table, moving noticeably closer towards you. 

“Fine.. I was admiring the view,” You admit, your hand sliding to onto his on the table, “Got a problem with that?” He shakes his head.

“I guess my little scheme worked? You didn’t notice the way I look at you, darling?” Mark asked and you shook your head.

“Try harder then, who knows? I could be yours before you know it.” You were sort of just humoring him, you weren’t sure if you’d actually hook up with this guy.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting this, I was sure you were..” Mark hesitated for a second, and you tilted your head to the side.

“I was sure you were Jimin’s girl.” You felt your heart nearly erupt at the thought of that title being yours. You knew you looked confused because he laughed at the way your face scrunched together in confusion. 

“Hey Marky, I’m going to need to steal your little girlfriend for a few minutes.” You hear a voice say. Jimin’s voice, though it’s a bit raspier than normal. He seemed as if he was almost disgusted by the sight of you and Mark together. A part of you considered that he might possibly be jealous. But you didn’t want to make up stories in your head.

“Ah, why? We were having a good chat.” Mark clearly didn’t want this to end. He’s been holding back on getting at you, and tonight could be the night you let him into your bed.

“Duty calls.” Jimin replied simply before walking away from the two of you. You waved to Mark before following after Jimin, confused on where you were going.

“Umm.. does the boss need me or something?” You asked him, confused.

“He asked us to bring up more wine. He keeps them down in his wine cellar.” Jimin let out flatly and you nodded your head at his words. There was an awkward silence between the two of you now, and it stayed that way when you two entered the cellar.

“He said grab anything, but the older the better.” Jimin told you. You nodded once again and went down on your knees to look at all the names of the wines, you picked up two and read the—

Click.

“What happened?” You asked, and Jimin let out a sigh of disappointment.

“The door locked, I let it close and it locked itself. Shit, the boss warned me about that.” Jimin ran his hand through his hair.

“Seriously Jimin? You Locked us in here? You had one job.” You put the bottles back and got up from your place and tried to open the door, surely enough the knob wouldn’t budge. Jimin sighed and put his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall. You tried your best but you couldn’t get the door open. This wouldn’t be so bad if Jimin hadn’t been acting so weird. You give up escaping and decide to look around the room instead. It looked like a library, except the shelves were filled with alcohol. There was a counter off to the side with a sink as well. You studied the bottles for a second. You reached for one carefully, but despite being careful it slipped from your hands. Instead of a crash you watched as hands caught the bottle.

“Be careful, would you?” Jimin warned you before putting it back in its place.

“My bad.”

“Maybe don’t touch anything.” Jimin suggested. 

“Well, I don't even have my phone. so I’m stuck in here with you and your shitty attitude.” You complain and Jimin scoffs.

“Wow, too bad it’s me, I’m sure you just can’t wait to get out of here so you can flirt it up with Mark Tuan.” Your eyebrows scrunch up at his words before you let out a sigh.

“You know what? Maybe I do. Mark is a man who knows what he wants.” You claim confidently, “Maybe you should learn a little something from it.” Jimin’s face drops. He moves closer and you step back until your back hits the shelf. He slowly moves his hand up to your throat, but you don't falter under his touch.

“You.. you really want a reaction out of me today, don’t you?” You don’t respond, you simply look into his eyes, a certain darkness evident in your eyes. Jimin’s hand moves from your throat to your back. He pulls you close with one arm while his other hand is placed against the shelf. Your forehead’s touch for a few seconds, and before you know it his lips are on yours. The kiss is so very passionate, two years of wanting each other put into it. You grip onto Jimin’s suit jacket, pulling it off, he moves his hands from their place to help throw it off. Once he puts his hands on the shelf again, he nearly knocks down some of the wine bottles. The two of you smile at this, Jimin decides to do this in a more convenient place, lifting you up and moving the two of you to a counter. Soon you’re on the counter with Jimin’s pelvis in between your legs. He litters kisses up and down your neck, and nibbles on your exposed collar bone. 

“that night at the bar.. what was it you told me? You’ve got a little daddy kink, love? Good, because that’s all you’re gonna be saying the next 20 minutes, Capiche?” You remembered that night, the two of you getting a little too drunk after a hard day at work. A night that ended with the two of you spilling out your darkest fantasies. But at this moment, you were still in shock of what was happening, so you let out a pathetic: 

“Huh..?” Jimin chuckled at your words. He pulled away from your collar bone, gripping onto your chin and looking into your eyes, “We’ve got about 20 minutes before the boss realizes we’re gone. How about we take advantage. Let me fuck you, right here, right now. In our boss’s home. What do you think about that, hmm?” That sounded like a great idea.

“Mhmm.” You moan out, he moved closer, practically whispering in your ear, “I need words baby, use your words.” You felt your stomach erupt in butterflies, and all you could think about is his member poking against your leg, and how badly you wanted it inside of you. 

“Daddy.. Yes, please, fuck me right here in our boss’ house.” 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He let out before moving his hand to your back to softly unzip your back, “You sure? we could just wait this out so you can end this night with a mediocre fuck from Marky out there.” You shook your head quickly, cooperating with getting your dress off. 

“No.. it’s you.” Once your dress hit the floor you wrapped your legs around Jimin’s hips, pulling him closer, “I only want you, daddy. No one else.” 

“Love to hear it.” He whispered back, He took a second to admire you without your dress, he put his fingers on your panties, satisfied with how wet you were, “So beautiful, If we had all night i’d spend hours making you feel good.” His finger moved faster and your toes clenched as you let out little whines and moans at the feeling. The atmosphere was heating up, and Jimin had to unbutton a few buttons of his shirt. While he was distracted with this, you took it upon yourself to pull his member out from his pants. You softly ran your hands up and down his cock, Jimin bit his lip at the feeling, and his reaction resulted in your hand moving quicker. 

“F-fucking hell.” He stutters out, his hand gripping on your thigh, “Shit, I won’t be able to control myself. I want you to come all over my cock, gorgeous.” He whispered out, moving your panties to the side and pushing inside of you. The both of you let out sighs of satisfaction. Jimin started off slowly, slow but powerful. He pulled out just to slam back into you. It’s so embarrassing, but you couldn’t take it. Your crush of two years is fucking you in your boss’s liquor wine cellar for goodness sake. You felt so scandalous, and it turned you on even more. You let out a loud moan as you unexpectedly cummed all over him.

“Shit.. did you just cum already?” He asked, but the situation turned him on even more. He wasn’t going to stop. He wants to wreck you. Make you regret even speaking to Mark. 

“Daddy’s gonna speed up now, take me like a good girl.” Jimin managed to push even deeper into you, but his pace sped up. Your senses overwhelmed you since you just came, but you didn't want him to stop. Your moans got louder and louder and they wouldn’t stop. Finally Jimin covers your mouth with his hand. 

“As much as I love your moans, the last thing I want is someone interrupting us.” Jimin growls out. Since he silenced you, you got to hear his little grunts and praises the more he fucked you. You couldn’t take it, the noises he made made you feel like you were on top of the world. You clenched around him as you came again and this time Jimin moaned out louder than you. He rode out your orgasm before pulling out of you, “On your knees..” 

You wobbled off the counter and went down to your knees. You placed your hand on his member, trying to get him to release onto you. Jimin’s hand gripped on your hair. He moved his dick to your mouth and you opened up. Only to feel him shoot right into your mouth, “Oh.. oh fuck.” 

Jimin picked you back up, placing you on the counter. He was breathing heavily, and so were you. He kissed you softly before wrapping his arms around your waist. You hugged him back, and the room went quiet. You guys held on to each other for a few minutes. It felt amazing.. Being in each other's arms. 

“Y/n, you know... I kinda like you.” 

This all happened because of a fancam. :s

[johnhardinsawyer]

This is Love

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

4 / 18 / 21 – Third Sunday of Easter[1]

1 John 3:16-24

John 10:11-18

“This is Love”[2]

(Loving in Truth and Action)

My family and I recently went on a socially-distanced trip to a town near the ocean.  My wife and I were excited about going to the town.  But, our almost-four-year-old son was excited about to going to the ocean.  Guess whose excitement won out?  So, there we were, standing on a windy New England beach at 9:30 on a brisk April morning – jackets zipped up, layers of clothes on top, pants rolled up to our knees, and barefoot in the sand.  It was downright chilly, but our son was having a blast.  He just loves to dig and dig in the sand and doesn’t seem to mind the cold.  My wife and I, knowing that we might only get one shot with experiences like this, decided to go with the flow on the morning in question.  So, when my son grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go in the water, daddy,” guess where I went?  I only went in up to my ankles, but the waves were so cold that it felt like the bones in my feet instantly turned into individual ice cubes.  I knew it wouldn’t last long, though, and my son’s shrieks of chilly glee warmed my heart as we ran back out of the water.  “Well,” I thought to myself in the moment, “This is love.”

“We know love by this,” writes the author of 1 John, “that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . .  Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

She woke up early, just like she used to before the pandemic began.  It used to be that early in the morning was all the time she had for herself.  This was still the case, but instead of having a few quiet moments to collect her thoughts, she rolled out of bed and turned on the computer, nearby.  Her clients and coworkers needed her input and her undivided attention, and she knew that pretty soon, she would have to rouse her kids from bed and get them fed and ready for online school.  Single-mom parenting is hard enough, but single-mom parenting, and full-time working and full-time at-home-schooling is so much harder.  And yet, kids need to learn and a salary needs to be earned.  She finished an e-mail, closed her laptop – hoping she’d find some time to get back to those e-mails later in the day – and she went down the hall to wake her kids up.  Before she knocked on their door, she took a deep breath and thought, “This is love.”

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . .  Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

It was so hot when he arrived at the detention center – not as hot as it had been the week before out in the desert of the borderlands, but it was still hot.  As an immigration and customs enforcement officer, he had seen plenty of children come through the detention center.  Some of them were very young.  The child he was looking for this morning was four years old.  She had been separated from her aunt and cousin after they had made the dangerous journey from Guatemala to the US border.  The little girl was alone, now, and would not stop crying for her mother who was already on this side of the border, seeking asylum from some horrific situation down in Guatemala.  She had come here for a better life and was hoping that her young daughter would have a better life, too.  The authorities were transferring the girl to a foster care home in Michigan for several days, after which the little girl would be released to her mother.  But it was hard for the officer to try to explain all of this to the little girl, even in the most gentle of ways.  Why was this job so hard?  There were thousands of children like this little girl.  Why did he care so much?  He wanted the best for his country and he really wanted to help people.  God, what on earth was this child’s mother thinking?  What on earth was he doing with his own life?  And then, in a moment of clarity, he realized that the answer to both of these complicated questions was the same:  “This is love.”[3]

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . .  Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

For a whole year – shift after shift at the hospital – she had been intubating patients, holding their hands in fear, and zipping body bags in the ER.  And, for a whole year – Sunday after Sunday – she had been waiting to go to church with her children.  On the Sunday she finally went, no one – in a room of 200 people – was wearing a face mask, except for her family.  After church, she was so infuriated that she wrote:

I’m sorry that the majority of churches I’ve seen are failing their communities.  I’m sorry that the Body of Christ is not representing Him well in this area.  It’s heart-breaking and so disappointing.  Because what the church is saying is, “I don’t care that you buried your husband last month.  I don’t care that your grandmother is on her 50th day on the ventilator.  I don’t care that the rest of the world is doing a better job serving and protecting their community than the church.  I don’t care unless it directly affects me.”[4]

“Just because it hasn’t happened to them, doesn’t mean they shouldn’t care that it happens,” she thought, angrily.  And yet, shift after shift, she still kept going back to work at the hospital.  Her co-workers all felt the same way she did: physically and emotionally exhausted by the pandemic and the sick irony of some of their dying patients not believing that Covid-19 was still killing people.  And yet, as she donned two face masks, a gown, two pairs of gloves, and a face shield to walk into another patient’s room, she repeated the same phrase that had kept her going all these months:  “This is love.”[5]

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . .  Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

Years ago, my daddy worked with a man named Gordon Davis.  One of the first things that I learned about Gordon, was that his brother, Rodney, had died in Vietnam in 1967.  Sergeant Rodney Maxwell Davis and his unit of Marines were attacked by the enemy and were pinned down by mortars and heavy gunfire.  Sergeant Davis crawled from man to man to encourage them.  But an enemy hand grenade fell in the trenches his men were fighting from, and without hesitation he threw himself upon the grenade.  Sergeant Davis’ Medal of Honor citation describes it in this way:

When an enemy grenade landed in the trench in the midst of his men, Sergeant Davis, realizing the gravity of the situation, and in a final valiant act of complete self-sacrifice, instantly threw himself upon the grenade, absorbing with his own body the full and terrific force of the explosion. Through his extraordinary initiative and inspiring valor in the face of almost certain death, Sergeant Davis saved his comrades from injury and possible loss of life. . .[6]

This is love.

Back in 1967, when Sergeant Davis was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor, his hometown did not allow black people to be buried inside the city limits.  So, he was buried in an all-black cemetery, out of town.  In 2010, several Marines who were white, including one of the men who had been saved by Sergeant Davis, stopped by the cemetery and were appalled by the state of the rotten wooden monument on his grave.  So, they raised money to replace it.  This, too, is love.

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . .  Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

I don’t know whether you know someone who has laid down their life for you, but chances are, you know someone who has made some kind of sacrifice for you – someone who has laid down part of their life or a whole way of life for you or for someone else. . .    This is love. . .  The man who visits his wife for hours, every day, even though she cannot remember his name.  The woman who gives someone the very thing they need, only to see it squandered, and yet she loves them still.  The parent who puts important plans on hold because their child made the playoffs.  The woman who lives so simply and frugally for so many years and surprises everyone by leaving a tremendous gift when she dies.  The person who says, “Whatever you need. . .” and means it.  The veteran of the war in Afghanistan and Iraq, the patient daughter, the loving and dutiful son, the co-worker going the extra mile, the caring Elder or Deacon on the phone, the friend, the stranger, the person who has something to offer and does not withhold it when they see the need is great, whoever it is that is giving themselves, and their time, and energy, and money, and skills, and gifts away because they love. . .  

This is love. . . in truth and action.

As the Bible tells us, if we have any doubt as to whether we are loving with enough truth and action, then maybe we could love more.  “But if our hearts do not condemn us, we have boldness before God. . .” (1 John 3:21)  

So, friends. . . love boldly in truth and action – not with mere words or speech.  Talk is cheap.  But giving your life by loving in truth and action?  This is the most precious gift we can give – a gift modeled after the example set by Jesus Christ, who, in his birth, and life, and ministry, and miracles, and teaching, and death, and resurrection shows us what it means to lay down our lives for others in truth and action.  

“We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us – and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. . . Let us love not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” (1 John 3:16, 18)

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

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

[1] The readings for this week have been swapped with the Fourth Sunday of Easter to accommodate a guest preacher next week.

[2] A sermon in the style of Fred R. Craddock.

[3] Imagined, based on the following story:  https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/immigration/some-migrants-now-sending-their-kids-across-border-alone-so-n1261249.

[4] S in early March, 2021.

[5] Imagined and expanded, based on S’s story as well as radio interviews with nurses during the pandemic.  With gratitude for S and all hospital workers.

[6] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rodney_Maxwell_Davis.

[something-tofightfor]

Ink V

Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader

Word Count: 7033

Rating: M (language, talk of drug use, multiple partners, implied nudity, Logan being Logan)

Author’s Note: This part. THIS PART. T. H. I. S. P. A. R. T. I overindulged myself but I don’t think that any of you will mind. 

Summary: You and Logan have made some progress when it comes to where you stand, but there’s always room for improvement. Also... what is this mysterious appointment you’re meeting him for? 

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You left Logan’s around noon the next day, bag slung over one shoulder and his voice calling after you as you walked down the driveway. “Tell me when you make it home.” Assuring him that you would, you climbed into the front seat of your car, waving with one hand when you turned around to pull toward the street. He smiled back at you, raising a hand and winking. Logan Delos, winking at me as I leave his house? What? 

 The drive home passed quickly - for whatever reason, there was little traffic as you drove north toward Woodland Hills and your apartment - but you were entirely focused on the previous day and night, and on what it meant. You and Logan had fallen asleep soon after he’d called you his opportunity for a new start, and you hadn’t talked about it again that morning. We didn’t really talk about much, actually. Though the memories of the morning were still fresh in your mind - Logan’s hands on you, the way you’d woken up to the feeling of his lips on your skin, a whispered “mornin’” bringing you fully conscious - you were confused, to say the least. 

 It seemed that Logan Delos wanted to be with you, in a committed relationship. There was still no title, still no confirmation of that fact, aside from what he’d said to you and you back to him, but you were hopeful that you’d get clarification the next time you saw him - and if not then, then the next time you saw each other outside of work. He told you you had the right to… so… With a sigh, you pulled into your parking spot, lowering your head to the steering wheel for long moments and taking a few deep breaths. “Am I dating Logan Delos?” Speaking the words out loud didn’t make them seem any more real, but the buzzing of your phone was, and you fished it out of your purse only to see a message from Logan waiting. You make it home yet? With a laugh, you typed out a quick response, attaching a picture of yourself with your building in the background. 

 Just pulled in. Calm down. 

 He didn’t reply right away, and so you exited the car, grabbing your bag and making your way inside. Nothing’s changed. Don’t let it. You’d showered with Logan at his place, his hands making quick work of you - both covering you in body wash and shampoo and rinsing it off - and so you had the entire day to yourself to relax, the sliding door open and a breeze blowing in on you as you lounged on your couch with Netflix. Logan texted you back and forth throughout the day, linking you to pictures that had been professionally taken by the event photographer on the yacht and making it a point to let you know which one of the two of you he liked best. 

 You should post it. The short message stopped you in your tracks, a fork poised halfway between your bowl and mouth, phone held tightly in the other hand. Post it? Like on my… Or I will. Heart thudding, you closed your eyes. It as a good picture, you had to admit. The photographer had captured you and Logan standing at the railing of the upper level of the yacht, one of his arms around your lower back, your body angled toward him and both of you smiling. He was looking at you like there weren’t any other people on the boat, and the look in your eyes was unmistakable. And he wants to… 

 Your eyes widened as you realized what it meant, and you set the fork back down in your bowl, using both hands to hold your phone. He meant it. Swallowing, you shook your head, typing. Dare you.  He won’t. He just wants to see what I say. 

 Leaving your phone on the counter, you went back to your dinner, but before you’d eaten more than a few bites, your screen lit up with an Instagram alert. Shit. Food forgotten, you unlocked the device with your thumb, opening the app to the image - posted on his page - with you tagged. There wasn’t a caption, but there didn’t need to be, because you were the first woman that wasn’t Juliet that had been posted on Logan’s feed in more than two years - since before he’d come back from Westworld on that trip with William - and that said everything. Thumb hovering over the like button, you took a deep breath and tapped it. “Oh, holy shit.” You knew he’d get the alert to his phone - he followed you back, and had it set so that only alerts from his friends showed up, but instead of responding to him via text, you just turned the ringer off and flipped your phone over, hiding the screen. I’ll deal with it later. Much later. 

 --- 

 The next morning as you drove to work, you didn’t know what to expect. Sure, you were prepared for the looks from your coworkers, the eye rolling  and whispers from some of the people you passed in the hallway, but you didn’t know what it would feel like now that there had been a public declaration from Logan that you were different than the others in the past had been. What you weren’t expecting was for Logan to be perched on the corner of your desk, legs crossed at the ankle and talking animatedly with Alexi, your supervisor. You cleared your throat and the older man glanced at you, reached out to shake Logan’s hand and turned to leave your office, giving you a grin on the way out. Interesting. “Brought you breakfast, I don’t have a meeting ‘til 9, and figured we’d eat before I have to head up.” 

 Logan’s office was floors above yours, up with all of the other executives, and while you’d never been up to see it, he’d been in yours a few times for various reasons. “Thanks, Logan.” You smiled and went to walk by him and to your chair, but his hand shot out, fingers closing around your wrist. “Oh! What…”

 “Not even gonna say good morning?” He pulled you closer, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. “Or ask me how -” Throwing caution - and all common sense - out the window, you turned your head and cut him off, kissing Logan good morning. You held yourself back from reaching up to put your hand against the back of his neck, but couldn’t resist nipping at his lower lip when you pulled away, your nose wrinkling. 

 “Good morning, Logan.” He laughed, the sound ringing off of the walls of your office and let your wrist go as you moved to sit down. When you were settled across from each other, he pushed a cardboard container across the table at, you, eyes bright. 

 “It is now.” The two of you ate while talking, and since you were facing the door, you watched as people walked by, glancing into your office and doing a double take or simply stopping to stare. I should have known. He watched as your expression changed, frowning a few times, and as he checked his watch, Logan reached over your desk to take your hand, thumb moving over the back of it. “They’ll get used to it.” Logan locked eyes with you and you saw the resolve in them. “This is day one.” You nodded, smiling at the certainty in his tone even though you didn’t feel it yourself. “You can come up to my office next time.” He stood, lifting his coffee cup to his lips and finishing it, using one finger to gesture to you. “Your keycard works on the executive elevator now.” What? He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he’d grabbed his trash and tossed it, leaning over the desk to kiss you on the cheek. “Later.” 

 Speechless, you watched as Logan walked out of your office and down the hallway toward the elevators, saying hello to a few people as he passed but not stopping. Oh, holy shit. 

 --- 

 The rest of Monday and Tuesday at work passed quickly as you buried yourself in work - editing the files that contained information about current narratives and cataloguing relevant specifications for the archives. You didn’t see Logan again after he left your office on Monday morning, and while you got a few looks from colleagues in the cafe and did hear whispers while you walked through the hallways, no one said anything to you about the yacht party or the image that Logan had posted. I’m sure they’re thinking it, though. Determined not to let it bother you, you kept your head down, actually working ahead so that taking Wednesday off didn’t derail anything. 

 That meant having Tuesday’s lunch at your desk, typing furiously as you ate, the door shut to keep distractions out. Just as you were about to open it, your computer dinged with a video call request, and you answered it, surprised to see that it was Logan. “What’s going on, Logan?” He was sitting at his desk, a large window visible behind him, blinds partially closed to block some of the light. “How -”

 “I don’t have long, I’ve got a conference call with London in a few minutes, but…” He ran a hand through his hair, the movement casual, not a hair out of place when he finished. “I was just wondering if you wanted to leave together after work, we could grab dinner before…”

 “Leave my car here?” You frowned slightly, thinking. “I took tomorrow off, Logan, I’ll need to get h-”

 “Stay at my place.” He shrugged. “I can bring you back tomorrow when I come in, or … or we can figure somethin’ else out.” He raised an eyebrow. “No reason to take two cars, right?” You thought about the small parking lot behind the shop, knowing Logan was right, but then another thought occurred to you. 

 “Your sheets are all white, and expensive, and I always ble-” He laughed, shaking his head. 

 “You know.” He leaned in, closer to the screen, a smirk on his lips. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to avoid…”

 “No.” You smiled too, appreciating his teasing tone. “I’m just giving you a chance to back out, Delos.” He shook his head, sitting back up straight and rolling his neck. “We’ll drive together.” You paused. “And dinner would be great.” Logan waited. “And since I don’t work tomorrow, not having an outfit for work isn’t a problem.” You tapped your fingers against your desk, thinking. “Want me to meet you in the lobby at 5?” He nodded, a slow smile spreading across his lips. 

 “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Logan cleared his throat, staring directly at you through the screen. “You come up here and we wouldn’t make it on time.” With a surprised laugh, you shook your head and said goodbye, wishing him luck with his meeting before you ended the call. Glancing at the clock mounted on the wall above your office door as you moved to open it, you couldn’t help smiling. Four hours. 

--- 

 Dinner had to be quick, since your appointment was scheduled for 7, meaning that you didn’t have time to linger anywhere. Logan, as you knew, didn’t need a Michelin starred restaurant to be happy - so after he parked, you grabbed his hand and pulled him down the street a few blocks to a Dough, a pizza place that you’d been to before and after concerts at the Roxy. If anyone had recognized him on the street, they hadn’t said anything, and the two of you enjoyed your meal, laughing almost the entire time you were seated at your table. Logan was almost unrecognizable, his work clothing replaced by dark jeans and a fitted t shirt, and you noticed how casual and relaxed he seemed, an arm stretched across the back of the booth. I wish he could be like this more. 

 But, you realized, as Logan left cash on the table to pay for the meal and tossed an arm around your shoulders as you headed back to the shop, if he was with you, he could be like that more. You didn’t expect the glamour or the excess; sure, you’d accept it if he offered, if he wanted to introduce you to that part of his life, but with as comfortable as he looked on a daily basis in his suits and button down dress shirts, he looked even more at ease as he was that night… and you liked it. The two of you dodged people on the sidewalk, quickly crossing Sunset, and by the time you reached the front of the shop you were excited all over again. 

 Asher was guest tattooing at Shamrock Social Club, and even though you’d emailed him as soon as you found out, you’d been worried that his slots would be filled. Fortunately, he’d been more than willing to give you the time you needed, and when, over the phone, you’d told him what you wanted - to extend your current design up, he’d laughed louder than you’d ever heard before, followed by a low whistle and him saying “it’s about damn time”. While you’d been contemplating it for a while, Logan’s acceptance - and your secure position at Delos - had motivated you to act on the desire to finish the tattoo you’d started years earlier. 

 You’d warned Logan that it wasn’t going to be a quick appointment, that Asher was a stickler for perfection when it came to his designs, but he’d only nodded, reminding you that he had all the time in the world outside of work hours. Even though you were a few minutes early, your friend was waiting near the front desk, leaning against it and talking to the receptionist. “You didn’t tell me how fucking good looking he was.” Logan’s words were quiet, spoken directly into your ear. “You sure you didn’t sleep with him?” Biting back a laugh, you looked over at Logan and rolled your eyes before greeting the other man, crossing the small space quickly to hug him. It had been more than two years since you’d seen Asher - the man relocating to the east coast for the opportunity to open his own shop, and you knew that you’d be hearing some good stories during your session. 

 As you introduced the two men to each other, Logan reaching out to shake Asher’s hand, you pressed your lips together as watched Logan’s pale hand disappear into Asher’s tattooed one, the man’s blue eyes brightening and a grin spreading across his face as he looked Logan up and down. “You gonna let me tattoo you tonight, Logan?” He raised an eyebrow and jerked his chin in your direction. “She says that’s what you want.” Logan’s eyes widened and he glanced at you, then back at the other man, tongue darting out briefly. 

 “If you’ve got time, yeah, I -” Asher nodded, pulling his hand away from Logan’s and waving it in the air in a gesture of nonchalance before he ran it over his close cropped hair, still staring at Logan. 

 “Of course I’ve got time for you. She’s my last appointment tonight, we never know how long it’s going to take, so…I’m used to the late nights with her.” He shrugged, gesturing back to the room you’d be in, and you nudged Logan with your elbow, winking at him. “Plus, I’d never turn down the opportunity to tattoo you, Logan.” He cleared his throat, eyes still locked on the man you were with. “Give me a few minutes to finish setting up, we’ll do hers first and then I’ll take care of you, yeah?.” You met the receptionist’s eyes, not surprised to see that she’d been staring at Logan, eyes filled with amusement and appreciation. Right? Believe me, I know. When Asher disappeared down the short hallway, Logan pulled you back toward the front window, his eyes wide. 

 “What the fuck was that?” You paused, waiting, and Logan continued, voice low. “Was he flirting with you… and me in front of... “ You’re not used to that? You didn’t answer, trying not to laugh. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but…” You stared at him, taking in everything - the way Logan looked standing in front of the walls that were covered in flash designs, the tattoo paraphernalia surrounding him, the sound of the buzzing machines loud in your ears. I thought he’d look out of place, but he doesn’t. He looked as relaxed as could be, and you fought back a smile as you realized he was likely the only person in the building without any ink, yet he still seemed to belong. How do you do it, Logan Delos?

 “Logan.” You rubbed a hand over your face, bringing yourself back to the present, but still amused. “He’s married. He’s been married since he started tattooing me, and that’s just… how he is. His wife’s been to a couple of our sessions, she’s great too.” You rolled your eyes again. “Yes, he’s flirting, but it’s not…” You shrugged. “That’s the extent of it, so… get used to it, Delos.” You kissed his cheek, stepping back and looking down the hallway. “You might not be the biggest flirt in this building tonight.” 

 --- 

 It had taken Asher nearly an hour to sketch out the design on your skin in permanent marker, supplementing the deep purple ink from the transfer sheets that he’d prepared with the other colors. You were used to the process - the man using different colored markers to denote the order that he’d tattoo in, but Logan was fascinated with the whole thing, asking questions and making conversation from his seat next to you, his eyes constantly moving between your skin and the man’s hand as it drew. You’d had to remove your shirt and bra in order to allow Asher to see the whole design, your bare chest pressed against the material between you and the chair you laid on, head turned toward Logan. 

 You watched as he studied the way that Asher touched you, tracing the existing lines upward with his fingers and adding to them with the markers, Logan’s eyes dark and curious, and even though you knew he was trying to hide it, you saw a twinge of jealousy in them, knowing that the man was doing something that Logan himself wouldn’t be able to do for days. Not used to that either, are you Logan? You smiled at him, hands resting on the short platform beneath the table that ensured that the skin of your shoulders remained in a natural position, but it wasn’t until you stood up, holding the shirt carefully against your front, and stepped in front of the mirror that you asked him what he thought. 

 Asher held a second mirror in front of you and you studied the design carefully, eyes moving over the lines. “How’s it look, Logan?” You knew it looked great - that the lines were straight and even, the design symmetrical - but you wanted to hear it from him, too, knowing how much he valued precision. “Ash, if that’s too much for you to do in one session, you can cut it down, I want to make sure that Lo-” 

 “No.” Logan shook his head, leaning in closer, his eyes moving over your skin. “It looks… that’s all gonna be done tonight?” Asher turned his attention to the dark haired man, smiling. 

 “Yeah. She sits like a rock, so I always do as much as possible at a time on her.” You shook your head back and forth, waiting. “We might have to wait on the last of the shading, depending on how much it swells, but gettin’ all this done shouldn’t be a problem. You’ll probably be done around midnight, maybe a little later.” His eyes moved back to you, amusement in them. “That too late?” You and Logan answered at the same time - both of you saying no - and Asher stepped back, lowering the mirror. “Alright, well, if you wanna go to the bathroom or get somethin’ to drink or whatever before we start, go ahead, you’ve been layin’ there for an hour.”

 He turned his back to you, and you used the opportunity to pull the shirt away from your chest, giving Logan an eyeful before you pulled it over your head, pointing at the door. There you go, Logan, enjoy. “Gonna go get a drink from the cooler, wanna come?” He groaned but followed you, and you both made your way back into the lobby, stopping to grab the drinks and lingering in the hallway for a few seconds. “You really think it looks good, Logan?” He nodded seriously, eyes darting over your face. “I told you he’s a professional and we’re just friends, but you didn’t -”

 “It’s weird seeing someone else touch you like that, hands all over...” He sniffed, shaking his head. “I’ve never felt…” Really? Logan swallowed. “It’s kind of a turn on, though, he’s -” You laughed at that, twisting the top off of the bottle and taking a long swig of the Coke in your hand. “I’m serious. Sucks that he’s gonna get to have his hands on you all night, and all I can do is watch.” 

 “Not used to keeping your hands to yourself?” He leaned forward, kissing you quickly, lips pressed hard against yours as he gripped your shoulders through the thin material of your shirt. 

 “No, I’m not.”

--- 

 By ten, the tattoo was well underway - and you were comforted by the sound of the machine’s vibration, the gentle pressure of Asher’s hands on your back as he manipulated the skin and the sounds of the conversation that were going on around you. You usually talked with Asher a great deal, and while you’d caught up initially, Logan had taken over, engaging the other man in a way that was so uniquely Logan that you couldn’t even be mad. It allowed you to zone out a little, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths, a small smile on your face. “You guys been together long?” What? Eyes snapping open, they landed on Logan, who looked just as surprised as you at the question. “She’s never brought anyone with her to a session before, and…” You turned your head toward Asher, giving him a look, but the man only smiled. “Seemed like…”

 “We met about a year ago, right after she started at Delos.” Logan cleared his throat. “She, ah, knew of me, and kept turnin’ me down, and then I finally got her to come out with me after Christmas.” You were watching Logan again, eyes on his face, and even though his words were slightly halted, he looked relaxed as he spoke them, leaning forward in his chair toward you. “So I guess the answer to your question is ‘not long enough’.” Asher laughed, but you were frozen, staring at Logan. What does that even mean? “Your work… intrigued me.” Logan pressed his lips together and sat up, leaning against the back of his chair and running his fingers through his hair, the muscles of his bicep flexing. “First time I saw it all, it was like…” Logan shook his head and met your eyes, the heat in them unmistakable. “Like lookin’ at a piece of art.” 

 It was one of the things you joked with Logan about often - the amount of priceless artwork he had displayed in his home, the pieces rotated out every so often and replaced with others just as valuable, just as beautiful - but to hear that he considered you, your skin that way? It was a shock to you. “Logan, I -” He was still staring at you, a look of absolute seriousness on his face and you shifted slightly on the table, feeling as Asher’s hands pulled away from you for a moment, likely sitting up to get more ink on the needle. 

 “You do incredible work, Asher. I’m lucky I get to be… to appreciate it so often.” Your heart was thudding in your chest, watching as Logan’s eyes roamed your back and then came up to your face, jaw locking. “Really lucky.” Giving him a small smile, you felt your face redden, but Logan went quiet, one hand reaching over to touch your shoulder gently, his thumb rubbing over the design that was waiting to be tattooed. Shocked into silence, you relaxed back against the chair as Logan did the same on his, and after a few minutes of quiet, you closed your eyes again, still smiling. No, definitely not long enough. 

 --- 

 “Alright, just a little bit left to go.” Asher put the tattoo machine down, and you took a deep breath, knowing what was coming. “Gonna clean this off and make sure, but I think we just need to worry about the very tops of your shoulders and then the front, so you’re lookin’ at less than an hour.” Bracing yourself for the chill of the green soap and the drag of the paper towel against your skin - always the part you looked forward to the least - you closed your eyes. Hissing at the change in temperature against your skin, you stiffened, hearing Asher laugh from above you. “Always the same, hmm?” 

 “You know I hate that, Ash.” The man laughed again as you whined, and told you to sit up, giving you a chance to stretch. You did so, using one arm to hold the shirt in place over your chest, and when the tattoo artist excused himself from the room and left you alone with Logan, you tilted your head to the side. “How’s it going, Delos?” Logan regarded you carefully before smiling and leaning forward, one hand going to your jaw to angle your head and pulling you into a kiss. 

 “Good.” He sighed, pressing another kiss to your lips. “You in pain?” You shrugged, thinking. Your back ached slightly, and felt warm, but you knew that it was due to the swelling. “Bleedin’ a lot, especially up by your neck.” He was holding your arm, fingers closed around the skin between your shoulder and elbow, but it was a gentle touch, his thumb moving back and forth against the inside of it. 

 “Told you it would.” You licked your lips, gesturing to the bottle of Coke that was next to Logan, and he handed it to you. “You mind holding -”

 “Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.” He leaned back, eyeing you. “Well?” Rolling your eyes at him - something you knew that he secretly loved - you pulled your hand away from your chest, allowing the material to drop. 

 “Jackass.” You mumbled the single word at him, and Logan grinned at you from his chair, legs stretched out in front of him while you drained the bottle, eyes narrowed. “We’ll see how much you like looking but not touc-” 

 “You already turnin’ me down?” Logan leaned forward, forearms resting on this thighs but keeping his eyes on your face. “I knew that’s what it’d be like being in a -” You pushed him with one hand, using the other to reach down and lift your shirt, covering your chest again. He laughed before he dug his teeth into his lower lip, staring at you. “You know I’m joking, right?” You nodded, laying back down and stretching your arms out in front of you, feeling the skin on your back tighten. Ow.

 “You really think it’s art, Logan?” You turned your head toward him, resting your cheek on the back of your hand. “I know you’ve -”

 “It is. A different kind of art than I’m used to, but it’s the same concept.” Logan rubbed a hand over his beard. “What Asher does - what he gives people like you? It’s not somethin’ you can hang on the wall like a painting, or use like clothes’, but it’s still… it’s worth looking at, worth owning, worth keeping. Wish I could do that for someone, give ‘em something they’ll look at and appreciate forever.” 

 “You do, Logan, with Delos, with the parks, and with -”

 “It’s not the same. They’re… they’re … ideals that we meet, but it’s not real, it’s not the...” He shook his head, and there was a knock on the door before Asher pushed it open again, poking his head in. The two men started talking right away, even as Asher put a new pair of gloves on and moved his chair to sit in front of you, leaning over your head to more easily reach your shoulders. As they talked and you laid there, eyes on Logan, you thought. What if… would Asher… would Logan? 

 When Asher finished with your back and told you that all that was left was the front of your shoulders, you sat up, still holding the shirt to your chest. “Alright, let me…” Making a spinning motion with your finger you watched as Asher turned away from you and the mirror, busying himself with wiping off the table next to the tiny ink pots he’d set up, throwing away a few of them. Logan, instead of looking away again, held your gaze for a few seconds before he wrinkled his nose and looked down at his phone, giving you the privacy you needed to slip your bra back on without pulling the straps over your shoulders. Now or never. “Hey, Ash.” You took a deep breath. “Remember how you told me that when Jase turned sixteen, you let him tattoo you because it’s all he’d been talking about?” Asher turned back to look at you, head tilted to the side as you mentioned his younger brother.

 “Yeah, he was obsessed with the idea, wouldn’t shut up about it, and…” The man shrugged, holding his arm out and pointing with one gloved finger. “Just did a couple stars and some shading, nothin’ big.” You leaned in, eyeing the design - a grouping of four small stars on the inside of his wrist. They look fine. “Why do you ask?” You locked eyes with Asher, pressing your lips together and you watched as the look in his eyes changed, him giving you a tiny nod before you turned toward Logan, biting your lower lip. “I want Logan to tattoo on my shoulder.” 

 “No. No way.” He replied before you finished, shaking his head back and forth. “I’ve never… no. I’m not artistic, I can’t…” But you saw the way his eyes looked, excitement mixed in with the apprehension. “I’ll hurt you.” Reaching out, you took his hand in yours, squeezing it. 

 “You won’t. Ask Asher, the celebrities do it all the time - the artists will let them do small designs on each other, it’s not… you won’t hurt me.” You glanced down. “Besides, the lines are already there for you, you just have to trace them.” Logan paused, his eyes moving over your shoulder. He’s considering it. 

 “I’ve never… used that kinda needle before, I don’t know how… I’m not used to…” Feeling your chest grow tight, you mentally kicked yourself for not considering how he’d feel with any sort of needle in his hand - but then remembered that he’d wanted to get something tattooed himself, that he’d been watching you for the better part of three hours with no issue. “I donno how to use the…”

 “I’ll work the foot pedal, Logan.” Asher leaned in, the tattoo machine in his hand. “All you have to do is dip it in the ink and put it to her skin.” The room went silent - no one but Asher had ever tattooed you before, and Logan knew that - knew what you were asking, and what going through with it would mean.  

 “If you don’t want to, Logan, it’s fine, I just thought…” You watched as Logan glanced down at his arm, swallowing hard. “Who better to supervise you than the best?” Logan took a deep breath and when he raised his head, he stared at you with certainty in his eyes. 

 “You sure?” You gave him a single nod accompanied with a smile. “You’ll tell me if it hurts?” 

 “It’s gonna hurt, Logan, it’s a tattoo, but yeah, I’ll tell you if it’s worse than it usually is.” You looked over at Asher, giving him a final nod, and the man set the machine down on the tabletop, pulling off his gloves with a snap. “You’ll be fine, Logan. I want this. I trust you.” Logan stayed quiet but then leaned in, kissing you hard on the mouth before he stood, nodding. 

 “Alright, Asher. Get me set up.” You watched as Asher instructed Logan to wash his hands and put on a new pair of gloves before he did the same, picking up the machine and showing Logan how to use it. He explained the pressure that Logan would need to use against your skin, and then looked at you, telling you to lay back on the table, head on a raised cushion so that the freshly tattooed skin of your back wasn’t pressing against the table’s surface. “Can you show me, I…” Asher nodded, telling Logan to lean in but not touch anything, and then you felt Asher’s finger on your skin, spreading a thin layer of Vaseline against it, followed by the buzz of the needle against your shoulder, leaving a trail of black behind. 

 “I can only describe it as… like writing.” Asher spoke quietly, still working. “Too hard and it’ll gouge the skin, too light and the ink won’t go deep enough. The fewer passes you have to do on an outline, the better.” He showed Logan how to dip the needle into the ink and clear off the excess, giving the man a chance to watch up close for a few minutes. “Alright, I’m gonna hand this to you, you start on that side, OK?” Logan’s eyes flicked back to yours and you smiled up at him, nodding. You can do this, Logan. 

 “It’s just some ink, Logan.” You both knew that you were wrong, but it seemed to calm him down enough to encourage him. He took the machine from Asher’s hand and took a deep breath, leaning over you to dip the end in the black ink. 

 “Ready?” Asher looked at Logan, who nodded, and then at you. You gave him a wink and then you heard the buzzing as the machine came to life. “Pull it back.” There was a short pause, the machine starting and stopping a few times, but you were focused on Logan and nothing else. “Alright, let me….” He leaned over, repeating the process with the Vaseline on the side that Logan was seated on. “You’re good, Logan. Go for it.” Logan took a deep breath, pausing, and you lifted your hand to rest it on his knee, giving it an encouraging squeeze. I trust you. 

 The moment the needle touched your skin, you watched Logan’s eyes light up. He leaned in, closer to you, and though he pressed a little harder than Asher did, it wasn’t too hard for you to handle. When Asher tattooed you, his touch was friendly - he was personable, but it was still just a job to him; you were familiar, he understood your skin - nothing more. With Logan, you kept your eyes on his profile as he worked, noticing that he glanced up often at the other man, waiting for confirmation that what he was doing was right. After a few seconds, Asher passed Logan a dampened paper towel, telling him to wipe away the smeared ink to see what his lines looked like. “That looks good, Logan.” Logan’s dark eyes found yours and you smiled at him, fingers tightening on his denim clad leg. “You want to do more, or…?” 

 “Keep going, Logan.” Your voice low, you urged him on. It felt good to have him touching you, the way his fingers pressed into your skin to pull it tighter, the proximity of him to your body, his breaths close to your ear. Logan touched you the same way he did in bed; every connection between your skin meaningful, the heat of his hand pressed against the front of your shoulder grounding you and distracting you from the pain you felt on your back, despite the layer of latex between you. He was focused on what he was doing, the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips, and even when Logan paused to swipe at the skin, switching out the dirty paper towel with a fresh one from Asher, he stayed focused. The minutes passed by slowly, and then Logan finally sat up, shaking his head back and forth, the look in his eyes unreadable. 

 “I gotta stop, I can’t…” He licked his lips, taking short breaths. “If I keep goin’, you’ll definitely have a lot to fix, Asher, and …”

 “He’s not fixing anything, Logan.” You stared up at Logan, giving him a small shake of your head. “Whatever you did is staying.” Logan’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to disagree, but you stopped him. “I wanted you to do this, I’m not just going to cover it up.” He passed the machine back to Asher without saying another word, snapping the gloves off and standing, tossing them in the trash. 

 “I’ll be…” Logan shook his head. “I need a minute.” He stepped out the door immediately after, leaving the two of you alone in the room. Oh, Logan. I’m sorry. Asher gave you a minute, too, asking if you needed to go after the man, but you knew that Logan wouldn’t simply leave you alone to fend for yourself, and so you relaxed, telling Asher to continue. As you relaxed again, you stared at the ceiling, taking deep breaths. Asher worked quickly, finishing the side that he’d started before moving to Logan’s side of your body, wiping away the remaining excess ink and reapplying the Vaseline. Just as the needle touched your skin, there was a single knock on the door, Logan pushing it open. “Sorry.” He stepped inside, saying the single word but not meeting your eyes and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest since he couldn’t get back to his seat. Did I overstep? I shouldn’t have… Asher finished only a few minutes later, the man looking up at Logan as he sat straight up.

 “Logan, man, I gotta say those lines are straight.” He shook his head. “You’ve got a steady hand.” You knew that Asher wouldn’t lie to Logan, and so you were excited to see the parts he’d done, along with the whole piece done by Asher. “Let me clean this up and you can see it.” He cleaned off your shoulders, doing one more pass of your back too, and then Asher told you to get up, directing you to the mirror. You stood with your back to it and waited, but when the man held the smaller mirror up, you couldn’t help the gasp that left your lips. 

 “It’s beautiful, Ash.” Stepping backwards so that you could see the detail better, you raised a hand to your mouth. “I never…” Your entire back was covered with ink, the designs interlocking and overlapping, flowing together in a way that - if anyone had predicted years earlier - you would have laughed off. That’s me. That’s mine. “I wish I could stare at it all day.” He laughed, and you heard Logan laugh quietly too, but then you turned to face the mirror, finally seeing the front of the tattoo. It curved over the tops of your shoulders, shapes and delicate lines broken up by pockets of deep black, and you pressed the hand to your mouth more tightly as your eyes landed on the part Logan had done. He…Oh, Asher. He hadn’t fixed the things Logan had inked onto you, instead he’d found a way to highlight them with clever shading, making them stand out without throwing the entire thing off balance. The lines were straight - for the most part - but you could see slight hesitation in them, and, as you looked closer, you noticed two extra dots in the center of a diamond - the only thing that was not mirrored on the other side of the design. 

 Your fingers hovered over the tattoo but you didn’t touch it, and you felt tears welling in your eyes. It’s perfect. Glancing up, you caught Logan’s eye in the mirror, and were surprised to see that he looked worried. You have nothing to worry about Logan. Nothing. “Let’s get you covered up, so we can get Logan’s tattoo done, yeah?” You nodded, stepping away from the mirror and allowing Asher to bandage your back and shoulders, the tape sticking to your skin easily. You pulled on the t shirt and then, without saying another word as Asher cleaned up the table and excess ink, you stepped over to Logan, putting your arms around him and hugging him tightly. 

 He returned the gesture after a short pause, pressing his hands to your lower back, and then you felt him kiss the top of your head, inhaling deeply. We’ll talk about it later. I know you want to. “You sure you still got time for me tonight, Asher?” Logan’s tone was lighter than it had been, and as you stepped next to him, waiting, you watched as Asher sat on his stool, spinning to face you. 

 “Of course, if you’re still interested.” Logan nodded. “What are you getting?” Very interested in the answer, you looked up at Logan, waiting. 

 “Just one word.” Logan held his left arm up, using his right fingers to tap on his bicep. “Right here.”

 ---

[drunknihilist]

How’s My Life? I don’t know I Never Really Had One.

I was born in 1990, from 93 to 98 I was raised middle class in the country. Anything I wanted my dad bought it for me because he worked at Goodyear. My mother turned my word upside down from 98 to 2002 when she told me he wasn’t my real father and she was divorcing him. She wound up cheating on him and moving me in with an alcoholic former marine that locked me in a walk in closet for 4 years and for 3 of them when he wasn’t beating me I was his boyfriend and he never worked. 

If I chewed my fingernails he beat me. If I didn't turn the light switch off before I left a room he beat me. If he caught me trying to sneak food out of the fridge he beat me. He shattered a flashlight over my head for bringing home a bad report card in front of my mother. He gave me a handjob with my pants on while my mom was sitting in front of me a few times and even though she looked me in my eyes she didn't say a word just kept watching television. He made me read porn magazines and watch pornographic films with him since I was 9 years old. He would make me hold his cock when he went to the bathroom to take a piss. I would wake up to him in the middle of the night having sex with me so I start sticking objects inside of myself thinking that if I stretched out the area that maybe I would be able to handle it more easier. There were even times where I would feel unusually tired between 5-7 in the evening which was around the same time he was taking me on these gun shooting trips with a man named George Reynolds and I have my suspicions that he was giving me drugs and letting him have sex with me when I was passed out. He stuck loaded guns to my head threatening to kill me if I told any of my teachers about it. So I was kept in solitary confinement and fed one or two meals a day to keep me alive so they could get my SSI check in the mail to buy beer with it.

I spent my 8th grade year living at my grandmothers house away from all the abuse and I actually made the honor roll. So my mom leaves him and meets my little brothers dad and talks me into moving in with her again and I spend 03 to 06 repeatedly getting grounded while his family bullied and beat me so they could get my SSI check in the mail and buy more beer with it. To make matters worse when we had to move out of a place in west logan his daughters left my belongings on the property after they moved their stuff out and the property owner threw all of my stuff in the garbage. The only thing I had to my name was the clothes on my back and I didn't even know that it happened until my mother called me and told me about it.

Then I told my grandmother I had enough and I want to move in with her she welcomed me with open arms. I actually went to the dentist for once because my mother never took me in the past ten years and I figured out I had 11 cavities in my mouth. I didn’t know how to interact socially around people so the friends that I did manage to make became a second family to me. So from 06 to 08 I was more focused having a social life and having two short term relationships than I was on my school work so I barely even graduated high school.

A woman that I wanted to marry that I spent 9 months with off and on and I lost my virginity to told me to meet her across town so that she could go back to my grandmothers house to meet my uncle in the basement for a quickie out of revenge for me breaking up with her multiple times and only got caught because my step sister walked in on the two of them so I spent the end of 08 to 2010 getting a lot of casual encounters out of my system trying to forget about her but nothing made me feel better.

From 2010 to 2012 I tried to get a job but I have had such an emotionless thousand yard stare that it was like trying to give a job interview to a robot. So when nobody would hire me a friend of mine named David was paying me a little bit of money working and training me as an contractor plus I also got a second job because a man name Charles who was running a business in the back of his place said that he needed a second locksmith. My grandmother kept getting sick so I began to spend more time taking care of her than I was showing up where I needed to be. David replaced me with another coworker and they ended up opening their own business and Charles ended up relocating out of state.

Here I am 22 years old I’m broke and I have to be a caregiver to my grandmother. Boy I could really use a friend, but as months went by nobody called me, texted me, came by the house. It got to where I was so depressed I checked myself into a mental health facility for a week to try to cope with my situation. Then when I got home I decided I love my grandmother dearly but I need to leave this town. I ended up leaving early in the morning to catch a bus and my grandmother talked to me on the phone thinking that I was a son of a bitch and she doesn't have anyone that's going to take care of her. So I had family who lived in a different state that took me in and I got a job working as a telemarketer. My uncle back home ends his own life and none of my family is helping my grandmother with emotional support so I have to move back for over half a year. I go back out of state again and another uncle gets me a job working as a maintenance man. However he cannot stop his addiction to pain pills so whenever he got done blowing his paycheck he was always wanting me to give him most of mine. Then one day I put my foot down and said I’m not doing this for you anymore and he told lies to my boss and got me fired.

I got a job working as a caregiver under the table for a lady who lived across the street from me because all of her family was thousands of miles away. So 400 dollars a month was a lot better to me than nothing. And at this point I was taking turns being a caregiver for my neighbor, grandmother and the aunt I was living with. My aunt has MS and I had two cousins that were in their mid to late 30's that never lifted a finger to do dishes or clean house I was stuck doing all the house work for free and whenever I am not in Logan and I'm back home I'm still expected to do it.

I have to regularly travel back and forth to my grandmothers house because whenever I call her she says she doesn’t eat for days sometimes because even though my mom lives in the house directly behind her she cannot come over and cook 2-3 times a day. It’s not like my mother works because now that she is single she keeps my little brother in the house just like she did to me most of my life while she plays games and spends his SSI money. I can barely afford to put shoes on my feet and my grandmothers pet cat sat on top of a new laptop and soaked it in piss and she said that it was my fault because I didn't lock the door when I went to sleep. So I went back home and didn't wanna talk to her for a few weeks out of anger.

My real father comes back into my life in 2017 and a year later he actually gets me a job working with him for the mayor of a small town near Columbus renovating rental properties. I find out mom cheated on him with the man that worked at Goodyear. The mayor pays me 200 dollars for a week of work and I thought if this is the rate I’m starting out I’m just gonna move up here. So I worked with him for over a month but I was still calling my grandmother twice a week just to see how she is doing. I try to call one day I never got an answer so then I tried again the next day and a nurse answers the phone and tells me she almost died.

I told my father I need to go back and be with her so when I got back my mother said she was gonna pay me 50 bucks to help my grandmother get situated inside of a nursing home facility. I said ok when I get done with this dad can just pick me up and take me back when all of this is finished. Not only was I lied to but my grandmother fell and fractured one of her bones and had to lay starving in her own piss and shit for 3 days before any of my family bothered to come over and check on her. She only spent one day in the nursing home before she started crying and screaming she wanted to go home. I wound up having to spend 2 months living at her house again changing her depends cooking all her meals the whole nine yards. Funny thing was when me my aunt and my mom went to pick her back up from the nursing home they had a good laugh after making the comment that they should have just let the crabby old bitch walk back home with her depends around her ankles holding onto a walker.

Here I am 30 years old all of my teeth are rotten and I don’t have any money for a dentist. I have never been able to stay on one job long enough to even know the first thing about paying income taxes because my aunt and my grandmother take turns crying over the phone that nobody is taking care of them. I would rather sleep under a bridge than go on welfare. I have never owned a car or got a stimulus check. I have never had my own place and I have never owned a smartphone. And all my family can do is sit around and laugh at me when I'm not around and call me a loser, meanwhile their kids are going to college and are living out on their own, but if it was any of them dealing with this they would have put my grandmother away a long time ago. It’s like as long as she is my problem they don’t have to deal with her but the minute they hear she’s too sick to eat or doesn’t feel well they would be the same people to jump on the phone yelling, “WHY HAVENT YOU MADE HER NOTHING TO EAT!” I am not a danger to myself or anyone around me.

My father has not been back to see me or even call me because every single time he shows up my family asks him if he has any money, I have no friends and I have anxiety attacks that keep me from sleeping at night because I know I’m going to die homeless under a bridge because I’m at that age that nobody is going to want to hire me anymore. I do little jobs here and there so I can buy some vodka and cranberry juice so it’s easier to go to sleep at night. For the past two weeks yet again here I am at my grandmothers house. She goes through 3 pairs of pants a day because of bladder problems I have to change her depends 7-8 times a day. I have to comb her hair take her phone calls do her cooking. Sometimes I don’t sleep for 2 days straight just so I can sleep on the third day to be up early enough to help her to the bathroom.

Again I’m 30 years old but it’s like I spent 17 years of my life in jail for a crime that I didn’t commit. And I told my grandmothers caseworker back when I was 23 years old that people I've tried to talk to over the years have told me that I can get paid for the work that I'm doing with her and all she said to me was that I would interfere with the income she was getting from the government so she can't do it. My mom doesn't own a car and she lied about being disabled so she could live off of her children’s SSI and my grandmother doesn't know how to read or write and has never owned a car but got pregnant 8  times so she could live off their SSI and my grandfather could use it to get drunk with. My family does like the remind me though that because I don't believe in God that I'm going to go to hell. Scientists have long since proven that dinosaurs existed millions of years before humans. I finally understood that the enlightenment that the Buddha was talking about was actually another word for nihilism. I suppose I understand letting go of material possessions and not causing suffering to other living creatures. Nihilism for me is like Buddhism except I am still a meat eater. I think people who are vegan do not understand that if these animals were not in such a demand that they are then they would go away just like the rest of the other species we've had a hand in wiping out as we let our population grow larger and larger.

I love my 84yo grandmother very much and she tells me she loves me and my mother has not told me she loved me in over 22 years. And I'd like to think that I'm finally going to be free to be by myself and make my own choices for once by the time that my grandmother is dead. But I know all that is going to happen is I'm going to be one of those 40yo men that stand on the street begging people for spare change. Till one day a cousin of mine is gone drive up in a new car laughing at me telling me I should have went to college. It's February 2021, I got a birthday coming up in 4 month, I have never been to jail one day in my life, I have no criminal record of any kind. I've just always been this dog that gets is chain tugged on and I bark.

The only thing that the world has taught me is people only have time for you as long as it is convenient for them and even when they appear genuine I always wonder if everything coming out of their mouth is a fucking lie. I have fantasies about picking up the pieces that Hitler left behind after he shot himself in the head only I do not believe in a master race. I feel betrayed by my own empathy for other human beings, I don't care what color they are, they are destructive selfish semi evolved primates that are too brainwashed by their own bullshit to accept the fact that money is their God. And just because there are children across America dying in the hospital from cancer that doesn't mean that when they die they got a heaven to go to. 

After all those days trapped in my room when I was a child barely even weighing 90 pounds I never thought for one minute I was gonna grow up to be a loser. Lol if any of my family read this they would just say that if I was so damn miserable why didn't I just get out? Oh cool so that means you're gonna move her into your house? No??? Does that mean you're gonna help her with all of her daily activities so she doesn't cry to me on the phone every couple of days that she's not getting any help and all her home heath aides do is do dishes and sit on their ass? No??? Ok then what kind of Christmas card did you pick out for me this year? Whoever said we were getting you one, you need to get a job you damn loser. And it's actually worse now because they stopped all of her home heath aides last year because my mother gave her bed bugs and she didn't want to say anything about it.

I feel like a human trafficking victim with stockholm syndrome but when I look up what a caregiver is it actually says work without pay right in the description so it's not like I can take anyone for lost wages. I've never even got a present for my birthday party or for Christmas since I was 7 years old and the only time I do is when my grandmother gives me some money so I can put some new shoes on my feet or get a new coat to wear.

But I'm a man I'm not supposed to talk about my feelings I need to suck it up.

[mlovesstories]

Protective

Words: 3500

Warnings: threats to life, cussing, gun shots, stalker, protective Dean

Dean x reader!platonic

Sam x reader!platonic

Mom x daughter!reader

Summary: Dean and Sam are part of a security team charged with protecting a political figure and her daughter.  

AN: child au for @spngenrebingo

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Masterlist of Masterlists

“You get your ass back here!  I need to talk to you, mister!”  The seven year-old pounded her shoes into the floor after Dean.  He stopped in his tracks.  She slammed into his leg, not paying attention.  “Ow!” She fell back onto her rear.  

“Excuse me?”  He turned.  Towering over her, he asked, “What did you say?”

“Umm,” she stuttered.

“Room.  Now.”

“Mom wouldn’t care!” Reagan stood and stomped her foot. 

“Yes, she would!  Do you treat everyone else like this too?” She silently shook her head. “Go.”

“Ugh!” The little girl pushed passed him and dramatically exited the room.  

Dean’s phone rang.  He saw Reagan’s mom displayed on the screen.  

“Hi Senator Downing,” he smiled into the phone.   “How is Italy?”

“Beautiful, but politics are so difficult.  I am out of my comfort zone here, Winchester.  I just happened to check the security cameras, and my feisty daughter seems to not be having a good day.”

“You saw that just now?” Dean laughed.  “Yeah, I think she misses you, ma’am.”

“You aren’t the nanny, Mr. Winchester.” Ms. Downing sighed.  “Don’t take on nannying too.”

“I love her, you know that.”  Dean offered her a dry laugh.  “Political figures’ kids never listen to nannies anyway.”

“Fine, Mr. Winchester.  Keep her alive, please.  And tell her that if she uses that word again, our pizza night is canceled on Friday.  Tuna sandwiches instead,” she giggled knowing her daughter would hate it.

“I will alert her, thank you, Ms. Downing.  Stay safe, tell Sam hello,” referring to his brother and co-worker.

“Will do, thank you, Winchester.  Oh, you better get to Reagan.  She is trying to sneak out my office window.”  Senator Downing raced to get her words out.

“Yes, ma’am.”  Dean hung up.

“What in the world do you think you are doing, Reagan Marie Downing?”  Dean quietly entered the main hallway where he saw her trying to open the window.

“Leaving!  I am going to Italy to be with Mommy!  She doesn’t have rules like you!”  Reagan crossed her arms.

“She is more strict than me, and you know it.  Besides, I just got off the phone with her, because she saw your temper tantrum.”  Dean smirked inwardly.

“On the cameras?”  She had forgotten about those.

“Yep.  Your mom told me that you’ll be eating a tuna sandwich Friday night if you don’t change your behavior.”

“What? No! I want pizza!”

“Then act like you want it, kid.  Back to your room, no more escaping.  Let’s go.”  The bodyguard escorted her to her room by guiding her shoulders.  “Seven minutes.”  He watched her walk to her bed and plopped herself down.  Dean shut her door and guarded it so that she would not sneak out again.  After her time was over, he opened the door.  “Come on, all done.” He faced her in the doorway.  She stood from her bed and froze. “What’s up kiddo?”

“I just want my mom.”

“I know this is new, sweetie.  New house, new schedule.  But your mom has a really important job to do.  And sometimes that means she has to leave.”

“I hate it.”

“Stop using bad words.”  Dean said shortly.

“I don’t like it!”

“But you have me!”  Dean laughed.  

“Winnie!”  Reagan whined.  

“Come on, dinner time.”

“No, thank you,” she moped.  Before she could cross her arms, he swept her off of the ground and whisked her into the kitchen as she giggled.

“You don’t get to be a sour puss tonight.  Eat up.”

The next Friday night Reagan and her mother enjoyed pizza together.  Sam stood watch at the door for the evening shift.  

“Baby Winchester, go home.  There are other guards here.  Have a drink with your brother, go cause trouble or something.”

“No, ma’am.  My shift does not end until the morning,” he stated very professionally.

“I hired you personally, don’t make me suspend you.  Go.”  She grinned to herself.

“Ma’am-”

“One,” she started counting.  “Two-”

“Yes, Senator Downing.  Enjoy your evening.  Sleep well, Reagan.”  The little girl waved at him as he exited the house.  

“Where’s Winnie?”  The seven year-old asked her mom, tucking her stuffed animal underneath her arm on the couch.

“He isn’t working tonight, baby.  This is his job, he doesn’t always have to work.  Dean also has to go home and watch his own TV and do every day things like we do. He’s been with us for a while, you know he doesn’t live here with us.”

“But- I want him here to watch the movie with us.  He likes pizza too.”

“He likes you, but he also likes to hang out with his friends and go to his house too.  You know this, what’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“I know something is bothering you, kid.”  Dean walked into Reagan’s room a week later as she was coloring on her bed the next day.  She had been withdrawn and to herself over the previous few weeks.  “I’ve been with you long enough to know when something is wrong.” He planted himself on her bed, moving her feet from the bed to his lap.

“Mommy hates me, and you think I’m stupid.”  Reagan did not make eye contact.  He took a deep breath knowing not to react with a hair trigger.

“You know neither of those are true.”

“Yes, it’s true.  Mommy is gone all the time now since she became an sena- senat-“

“Senator.”

“We used to do stuff, now she is gone.  And you haven’t been here!”

“I took vacation days, baby.  I’m not leaving you, promise.”

“Fine, but pinky promise?” She put her finger up, and he wrapped his around hers.

They soon changed the subject which led to giggles and jokes.  

—————

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Winnie! Come on!” Reagan whined to Dean.

“Punching another kid, seriously?”

“She punched me first!”

“Right…” Dean rolled his eyes.

“The principal saw it on the camera at school!”

“Let’s go home. We need to have a freaking talk before I call your mother. I hate making these calls, Reagan.”

She huffed.

“Get over here.” Dean gritted his teeth. Reagan walked over to him quietly in the living room later that afternoon.  Averting her eyes, she shifted on the balls of her feet. “Look at me.” Dean crosses his arms.  Reagan slowly met his eyes, tears starting to fall. “I know you didn’t punch first. BUT you had words with her before that punch. Next time keep your words to yourself when you know it will escalate. Sit down.” Dean pulled out his phone.

“No!” Reagan stood up and tried to grab it.

“Sit. Down.” He moved away from her. “If you be quiet, I won’t tell your mom you just tried to do that.” Reagan backed up and sat down again silently. She put her head in her hands and quietly teared up. A few minutes later he handed her the phone.

“Seriously, Rae?  You keep getting into trouble. You’re lucky Dean is there and not me.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Mommy.”

“You can stand up for yourself, but make sure that you don’t instigate something you can’t handle. You’re grounded until Friday. Anything technology goes to Dean unless you need it for school. I need to go, listen to Dean and be good. I love you.”

“Really, Mom? I need to get in trouble to talk to you?” YN yelled at her mom.

“Goodbye, Reagan.” Susan hung up.

“Ugh!”

“All your devices. Go get ‘em.”

“Seriously?”

“Phone, iPad, computer, all of it.” He put his phone in his pocket. She turned and stomped up the stairs to retrieve them.

“Here.” Reagan practically threw them at Dean.

“Cool it.”

“No.” Reagan growled at him.

“Take a breath. Relax for a minute. Sit on the porch. Do something to calm down. And just for the record, don’t throw stuff when you’re mad. Go punch a bag or something.”

“Okay,” she slipped outside to sit on the porch swing.

Benny, another security team member walked in. “Umm…”

“She’s growing up. And it sucks.” Dean turned to his coworker.

“Yep. Maybe you should step back, man. You’re not in charge of her like that, ya know?”

“What?” Dean turned.

“You’re not her babysitter.”

“That’s actually my job, Senior Winchester,” Jessica, one is the nannies walked in.

“We’ve talked about this, Benny.” He became defensive, jutting his jaw out. “Sorry, Jessica. Don’t mean to undermine you.”

“I’m just saying, Winchester.” Benny sighed.

“Say it somewhere else, Lafitte.”

“Winchester-“ Benny started.

“Ah!”

Dean and Benny went running toward a screaming sound. They threw open the backdoor to find Reagan hiding behind a planter.

“What happened?”

“Bad guy!” Reagan screeched out.

“Where?” Dean growled protectively. Reagan pointed to the tall wrought iron fence. “Okay, go inside and up to your room but away from the window!” He pushed her through the door into the kitchen.

“Okay!” Reagan yelled back.

“Yes, Ms. Downing. She is fine, I promise. Stupid guy tripped when he fell off the fence and broke his ankle. We have moved to a safe house in case he is not working alone.”

“Let me talk to Reagan, please,” Susan growled, defeated.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dean walked to Reagan and handed her the phone.

“It’s okay. You’re not in trouble, kiddo,” he whispered. She took in a deep breath.

“Mommy?” The girl’s voice was quiet.

“Hello, sweet girl. Are you okay?”

“No. I mean, Dean and Benny saved me, but I’m scared.”

“I understand. I’m coming home, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

“Let me have the phone,” Dean gestured. Reagan offered the device back to her security guard. .

“Ma’am, I can’t allow you to come back here. We don’t know why the person tried to attack. Yes, he is caught, but who knows if there is something else going on.”

“Winchester! She is my daughter, and she was almost attacked.”

“I am very aware of that, Ms. Downing. And I’m so sorry that we didn’t catch him before he got on the property. We have increased her security and have taken other precautions as well.”

“If a hair on her head-“

“Understood. Please stay where you are. I’ll have Sam take good care of you while you are separated from Reagan. I promise.”

“Call me every hour with updates, are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

————-

“I’m so sorry, baby. Do you feel okay now?”

“Yeah, we had to move houses though. I don’t like it.” She shrugged.

“I know. But it is to keep you safe.”

“Okay.”

Over the next few days Reagan and her security team stayed at the secondary house.

“Can I go to school, Winnie?”

“Not yet,” Dean huffed, sad for her.

“Why?”  

Benny barged in.

“Security alert, northwest corner, upstairs window!”

“Reagan, come here!” Dean dragged her to the center of the house. Dean pulled his gun out. He heard glass breaking in the upstairs bedroom.

Senator Downing’s room. Italicize

“Come here,” he pulled her into the secure basement and yelled for Charlie to follow. “Stay inside with her until I come back.”

“Winnie!” Reagan cries out for her favorite bodyguard as Charlie forced her body to move behind a door and locking it. “No!”

“Breathe, kiddo. You have to breathe.”

“Winnie could get hurt!”

“He’s Batman. Batman never gets hurt.” Charlie smiled st the girl. “You know he is Batman because you’re who?” She raised a brow with a smirk on her face.

“Robin.”

“Let’s just hang out here. Look, we have a full room down here.” Charlie turned so that Reagan could view the whole basement, a small apartment, really. They heard a loud boom and Reagan cowered, latching onto Charlie. “We’re safe. That door won’t let anyone in.”

A few minutes later Dean yelled, “Poughkeepsie 1-9-6-7!” On hearing the code word, Charlie used the heavy lever to open the door. Dean was bloody.

“Winnie!” Reagan gasped and ran into his arms. “Are you okay? Is the bad guy out there?” Her voice level wavered.

“Hey, it’s okay. Yes, I am fine and the bad guy was taken to the bad guy place. It’s alright. I promise.” The ten year-old was getting in his arms, but she cried rivers onto his reddened shirt, leaving him no choice but to continue holding her.

“We need to go. I know this is hard, but we get to go back to your house at the Embassy. We made sure no one can break in again. Can you go sit with Charlie while I make sure everyone is okay?”

Reagan nodded.

Even after extra precautions had been taken, Reagan was not permitted to go to school. Her homeschool teacher was mean and intolerable of anything other than focused, hard work.

“Forget you!” Reagan stood from her chair and walked down the hall.

“REAGAN!” Dean shouted after her. She walked up the stairs, and went into her mom’s room. “What in the heck was that?”

“It’s her fault. Mommy didn’t have to take this job. I miss school! Her job makes me scared! I miss my friends and my normal stuff!”

Dean inhaled.

“I’m sorry.”

Taken aback by his sweet response, she could tell he didn’t want her in this situation either.

“Dean, why?”

“I don’t know, Rae.  I really don’t. But I do know that you can’t talk to your teacher like that. If you have a problem with your mom, you need to tell her, not get mad at the teacher. You understand?”

“Unmf.”

“Yeah, I get it, kiddo. Now I think you have some apologizing to do and some math to learn, yes?” Dean raised a brow, expecting a specific answer.

“But-“

“Try again,” he widened his stance.

“Fine.”

When it was deemed safe for both Downing family members to be home, the ambassador was welcomed by Dean at the door.

“Hi, Senator. Glad to be home?”

“Yes, thank you.” She stepped in as Sam bright her luggage behind her. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“I wouldn’t have brought Reagan back here if we didn’t put extra security measures in place.”

“I appreciate that.” As she entered the foyer, Reagan happened to walk through.

“Hi, Mommy.” Reagan continued walking to the stairs.  

“What was that?” The senator looked toward Dean.

“Ma’am, I think that’s a conversation for you two. We will take your bags, go say hi to her.” Dean offered a weak smile.

“That bad, huh?”

Ms. Downing ascended up the stairs and opened her daughter’s room door.

“Hey, pumpkin.”

“Hi, Mommy.” Reagan looked up from a magazine she was reading.

“Are you mad?”

“About what?”

“I know I’ve been gone a lot. And it’s been scary. But I couldn’t come home, sweetheart. Dean and Sam don’t know what’s going on, so they didn’t want me here. Now it’s safe. I’ll be home for a while. Would you like to watch a movie?”

“No, thanks.” Reagan looked back down at her magazine.  “DEAN!” The bodyguard walked into her room. “Can we go get ice cream?”

Dean looked to Reagan’s mom. She sighed and turned.

“Sure, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

At the ice cream parlor, Dean took a deep breath before starting this conversation.  

“I need you to listen to me,” he stated lowly.  

“Yeah?” Reagan licked her ice cream cone and glanced at him.  

“Your mom missed you terribly while she was gone.  She was gone for weeks to keep YOU safe.”

“It’s not my fault she took this job.  Mom did.  I get to be in this too.  Lucky me,” Reagan sighed.

“You’re not listening to what I’m saying.  You interrupted me.”

“Fine, yes, I’m listening.”

“You’ve been through a lot, but so has she.  All of those decisions about you and your safety had to be made thousands of miles away.  Your mom couldn’t be here to make you feel safe,” Dean watched for Reagan’s reaction.  

“You make me feel safe.  She just bosses me around when I get in trouble.  You actually care about me,” Reagan admitted. “I don’t like her.”

“Reagan…”

“You told me not to lie.  I’m not lying.  But I can be nice.”

“I appreciate all of those things you told me, but when we get home, I want you to invite your mom to watch a movie.  Or do your nails, or whatever.  I am off the clock soon, so I expect you to do this on your own,” Dean stared at her.  

“Okay,” Reagan shrugged.

“Thank you,” Dean cleaned up his melted ice cream on the table.  “Let’s go.”

“Mom?” Reagan and Dean took off their jackets. The two walked into the living room after climbing many stairs.  

“Hi, sweetie.  How was your ice cream?” The senator stood from the couch and walked to greet Reagan and her bodyguard.  

“Yes, it was good.”

“My shift is ending.  Charlie should be coming on soon if you need anything.  Have a good evening.” Dean smiled and exited.

“Thanks, Winchester,” the mom waved.  

“Can we watch that movie?  Which one did you want to watch?” Reagan nervously asked her.  

“Oh, I thought you didn’t want to.  Sure.  You like The Princess Diaries, right?”

“I haven’t seen that in a while.  Dean refuses to watch it with me,” Reagan laughed.  “Can we have popcorn?”

“Absolutely. Why don’t you go get your pajamas on, and I’ll get everything set up,” her mom smiled.  

“Cool, be right back.” Reagan ran up the stairs and changed her clothes.  She grabbed her stuffed Winnie the Pooh and ran to meet her mom again in the living room.  

“Who is that?” Reagan’s mom asked her, looking at the thing tucked under her daughter’s arm.  

“Winnie got it for me.  It’s Winnie the Pooh.”

“That is very cool, Rae.  Thanks for sharing that with me,” Susan smiled at the connection she had made with her daughter.  As Susan started the movie, she felt her daughter snuggle into her and relax her body.  “I’m so sorry I missed these last few weeks.  I’ll be around more.  Dean promised that he and Sam will be extra careful about keeping us safe.”

“Okay, Mommy.  Love you.”

“Love you too, Reagan.”

Sam was on Reagan’s detail the next day.

“Where’s Dean?”

“I’m not cool enough for you?” Sam laughed.  “Come on, time for school.”

“Fine,” Reagan sighed.  “Is he okay?  He was supposed to come today.  He sai he would see me today.”

“He’s sick.  That’s why you got me today.”

“Winnie?” Reagan called him on the way to school.

“Hi, Rae.  Is everything okay?”

“She wanted to call and make sure you were okay,” said said into the car speaker.  

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart.  I have the flu.”

“Okay, then maybe you should sleep.” Reagan pouted knowing she woudn’t see her friend for a few days.

“I’m okay, your mom made me take time off.”

“Yeah, ‘cuz you wouldn’t if she didn’t tell you to!” Sam laughed.  

“Don’t come back til you feel good, Winnie!” Reagan told him protectively.

“Wow, you’re all ganging up on me,” Dean started coughing.  

“Go to bed, Dean,” Sam advised.  

“Yeah, be good,” Reagan laughed.  

“Wow, you two are really laying down the law over there,” Dean laughed but continued his coughing.  

“Okay, we’re off to school.  Love you, buddy!” Sam ended the call.  

“He doesn’t sound so good.”

“Maybe we can bring him soup,” Reagan suggested.  

“No, you will not be bringing him soup.  You’ll get sick.  But if you want to make him a card after school, you can do that.  Okay, let’s get out, time for school!” Sam said energetically.

“No…” Reagan whined playfully.  

Three days later, Dean showed up to clock in.

“Hi, Winnie!” YN wrapped her arms around him.  

“Hey, Reagan!”

As they settled in, the girl reported what she and her mom had done together since he had been gone.  

“Good job, Rae!  Proud of you.”

“She isn’t so bad.  Mom’s been around more.  She even said I could go to France with her on my spring break!” Reagan let go and bounced on the balls of her feet.  

“That’s awesome!”

“I’m so excited!

Sam and Dean led the team of security on the trip to Europe.  Reagan took everything in as they walked down the street.  As the group was guided into a government building, gunshots were heard.

“Ms. Downing!” Sam screamed.  The political figure fell to the ground.  Sam dragged her into the building and Dean shielded Reagan from the commotion outside.  

“Mom!” Reagan screeched.  Sam lied her down on the carpet in the lobby.  The team didn’t see any blood.  

“I’m okay,” Susan whispered.  I’m not hurt,” she calmed them.  With guards covering the entrance, Sam and Dean looked her over.  

“No wounds,” Dean affirmed.  “She’s okay, Reagan.”

Dean looked over to the young girl as she ran into his arms.  Reagan cried quietly into his suit jacket.  

“Thank you,” Susan said, “for being so damn protective,” she smiled. 

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[thenickelportrust]

Cátia

So I put this up in January on Patreon and then forgot I put this up in January on Patreon when I had also meant to put this up the day after here as well. It may not be the day after, but enjoy a small short!

Wanted to write something short and fun and thought it might be fun to give a bit more background into Cátia Ferrer- Raf's mother!

Cátia Ferrer was a woman of poise. Too much poise, if you were to ask some of her coworkers, for they wondered if the woman was even capable of leaning over to pick up something that had fallen on the floor with how stiffly straight she held her back. It didn’t help that she seemed incapable of even so much as tripping, let alone dropping anything that would require a test of whether or not she really could lean down. Once, one of her coworkers had tried to ‘accidentally’ knock something off her desk to see if she would even be able to stop standing straight.

She had caught it before it hit the ground.

Cátia Ferrer was a woman of poise. Poise, and privacy. The general perception of her was someone who walked stiffly, straight back home, slept flat on her back, and then walked back to the office to work again. So it was easy to forgive the general aura of surprise, and dread, when she’s seen at her desk, back curled over protectively, an air of irritation clinging to her now inexplicably curved spine like a weighted cloak.

“You should talk to her,” A red-haired officer kicked the ankle of a far more unfortunate man who happened to keep the desk closest to Cátia. That made him, by default, the closest to her. After all, nobody really knew anything about the closed off, intimidating woman, so they had to settle for proximity as a general judge of friendship.

Proximity was usually a poor judge of friendship, proved by the man’s jumpy nature. “What? No way. She looks pissed and I like having a beating heart, thank you very much.”

The officer that had spoken rolled her eyes. She was new to the precinct, and had that rosy-cheeked fresh face of someone who wasn’t familiar with who to avoid within the office. “Fine, then I will.”

“Elena-”

Elena ignored his call, pulling up a chair next to Cátia instead, letting it roll until it bumped gently against the wheels of her own chair. The woman’s dark brown eyes snapped to Elena’s, a warning churning behind them. A warning that Elena ignored as she thrust her hand out towards Cátia. “Ferrer, yeah? I’m Asjes. Elena Asjes. Pleasure.”

The warning was blinked away like the crust of sleep from newly woken eyes. “What do you want?”

“To know what’s botherin’ you.”

“Nothing.”

Elena leaned her chin into the palm of her hand, “You know they said you were good at everything, Cátia, but I think I’ve found something you’re pretty damn awful at.”

Cátia turned her gaze to the woman, unspeaking, but with one brow curved up as if in challenge.

“Lying.” Elena clarified with a grin.

Cátia just looked away once more, straightening her back as if realizing her reputation was fluttering away by the second. “It is not something I would like to be good at. It is a despicable skill to have.” Her voice dips low and harsh. Elena just shrugs despite it.

“So someone lied to you?”

“...No.”

“You know they say practice makes perfect, and if you don’t wanna get good at lying, you’d had better stop practicin’.”

Cátia returned the sharp glare, head snapping to Elena- who continued simply to grin, as if the brightness reflecting from the fluorescent lights above onto the white of her teeth might have somehow dispeled the dark irritation around Cátia. It didn’t work. Instead Cátia’s irritation just took it as a challenge. Caverns carved next to her lips when she frowned. But just as Cátia wasn’t affected by Elena’s luminosity, neither did Elena dim under her blanket of anger. Tan hands drummed over the back of her chair as Elena hummed to herself, waiting.

Cátia exhaled, slow and purposeful through her nose, feeling the rush of warm air over the top of her lips. And then there was a crack in the cover she wears so defensively. Perhaps it was because she had finally met her match in stubbornness. Two equal energies crashed against each other and one of them had to break eventually. So Cátia took the fall, closing out of the document on her computer as she leaned back against her seat, hands folded onto her stomach. “... My son has fallen for someone.”

“Oh?” Elena perked up immediately, “That’s cool! I didn’t know you had a son, how old is he?”

Cátia huffed softly, “Young.” Unspecific- as if Elena had asked a deeply personal question, not just the age of her son. Something Cátia also seemed to realize as she shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He’s twelve.”

“Aww, kid crush. That’s cute. I remember my first crush.” Elena leaned heavier onto her palm, eyes drifting up as she reminisced, before snapping back onto Cátia. “So why’re you so worried then?”

“... He reminds me of me.” Cátia’s shoulders slumped, “Young and inexperienced, yes, but I was much the same way as he is.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Red hair floated like a curly cloud around her face as Elena cocked her head to the side. “You seem to be doin’ pretty well for yourself, last I heard you were on track for becomin’ captain.”

Cátia scoffed, but didn’t deny it. “I did not say he was like me in work ethic- though he has been doing well for himself there, too… It is just… this matter that worries me.” She blinked, looking up as her eyelashes fluttered, “Why am I speaking to you? I do not even know you. I should not be sharing these things with a stranger.”

“Not strangers if you know my name. And it seems like you need to talk it out with someone.” But Elena’s helpful suggestion was met with silence and a cold, closed-off ignorance. This time it was the red haired officer’s stubbornness that broke, she tapped the top of her chair as she swung her legs over it, “Well… if you ever need to talk again- my ears are always open, Cátia.”

No response. Elena shook her head, but placed a hand on Cátia’s shoulder. “...Right, well, it was nice talking to you. See you soon.”

“...Right.” Ah, well, better than nothing! Elena still found herself smiling a bit brighter for what she could chalk up to a mostly-successful interaction as she trotted back to her desk. There were a few surprised stares caught on her back, but she didn’t mind. She just hoped that Cátia might take her up on her offer one day. After all, nobody deserved to suffer alone. Not in Elena’s mind. A little kindness can go a long way.

Hey! It had to have worked, too! After all, Cátia was sitting straight in her chair once more.

[insideoutstory]

Inside Out → Chapter Twenty-Two

summary: Christine struggles with the fallout of their adventure - the victories and the losses. word count: 5.2k warnings: I Very Sad™, injuries, grieving, hospitals

[ masterlist ]   [ FF.net ]

On a good day, it only took fifteen minutes to get from the south end of town to Hawkins Middle School. On a busy morning, it might take twenty. On a late Saturday night, it took the four teens a whole half an hour. 

 Most of this was taken up by Christine. Jonathan had done the best he could to wrap up her leg. He’d packed it with ice, wrapped it tight with a blanket, and given her some pain killers for the time being. When it came time to load her into the car, it took both him and Nancy to carry her out. They had to walk slow to keep her steady. The slightest jostle or trip made her wince with pain, though Christine thought she was bearing it well. 

Laid out in the backseat of Jonathan’s car, she counted the seconds in her head and tried to calculate how long it might take an injured Demogorgon to travel the same distance. 

Thankfully, Jonathan was easily persuaded into speeding to make up for lost time. Once or twice, he almost outstripped the red BMW that was trailing behind them. Steve still didn’t understand why they were going to the middle school or who Christine was so worried about. He followed them anyway out of loyalty. 

But they closer they got to the school, the more they had to slow down. There was an unusual amount of cars on the road for this time of night. Christine would’ve guessed there was some recital or concert for the art department had she not been in the empty school earlier. But then where were all these people going? 

When she saw the flashing lights up ahead, her stomach lurched. 

“Jonathan…” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

He heeded her silent request, pressing on the gas a little harder so he could weave through the sluggish cars. The entrance to the middle school had been blocked by a police barricade. He pulled up as close as he could and rolled down the window. 

“Excuse me! Officer? What happened here?” 

“Nothing you kids need to worry about,” the woman said dismissively. “School will be open on Monday. Just head on home.” 

“But what happened?” 

“I’m not at liberty to discuss. So would you mind pulling forward? In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not the only ones rubbernecking.” 

“We’re not rubbernecking,” Nancy snapped, leaning across Jonathan to the window. “Look, my brother is in there and he called me for help. Mike Wheeler? Is he okay?” 

If Christine’s foot had been in prime condition, she would’ve kicked the back of Nancy’s seat. It was a huge gamble. They had no way to tell which cops worked for Hopper and which might be in the pocket of the state. What if they were still looking for the kids and Nancy had given them the final key? What if the three of them were about to be whisked away to Hawkins Laboratory and tortured for information? 

The officer blinked at the given name. She held up a hand, stepping back to the barrier to converse with one of her coworkers. A moment later, they were moving the barricade aside and waving Jonathan through. 

“Go around to the back,” the woman advised. “Be ready to give a statement.” 

Jonathan didn’t waste time asking what kind of statement they would need. They pulled into the parking lot, Steve still riding their bumper, and raced to the back of the building. 

The parking lot was swarmed with professional personnel. There were police cruisers and fire engines and ambulances galore. Christine was struggling to take it all in from her slouched vantage point in the back seat. There were government vehicles too—big military trucks and sleek black cars. There didn’t seem to be any Department of Energy vans, but that didn’t mean the agents weren’t lurking around and blending in. 

“They found her,” Christine breathed, frantic eyes darting between cars. “They found her. They have her. They must’ve…” 

“We don’t know that,” Nancy said reassuringly. “The kids are smart. They wouldn’t have done anything to draw attention to themselves.” 

“Then what are all these people doing here? What the hell happened?” 

“Maybe Hopper called reinforcements,” Jonathan suggested. “To protect them.” 

“And the reinforcements called the military?” Christine asked. “Look at that truck. I know those bastards are here somewhere. And if they’re here, they found Eleven, and the cops know about Mike so…” 

“Exactly,” said Nancy. “Which means he didn’t disappear. If the scientists got to him first, no one would’ve known they were ever here. We’ll find them, Chris.” 

Christine nodded shakily. Nancy was right. Of course Nancy was right. She always was. She was grounded, she was level-headed, and she knew what she was talking about. 

Jonathan circled around the edge of the crime scene, scanning the crowd. The doors to the building opened, several cops piling out with stretchers. They were all covered in sheets, the bodies beneath completely immobile. One, two, three, four… 

“Nancy,” Christine squeaked. “Tell me that’s not…” 

A fifth stretcher rolled out, ending her sentence. There shouldn’t have been five. There were only four of them. Who else had been at the school? Who was under the sheets? What had even happened? 

The car was already in park. 

“Stay here,” Jonathan ordered, as he slipped out of his seat. 

Nancy undid her seatbelt and climbed out after him. 

“Nance, help me out. I want to…” 

“No, stay here,” Nancy instructed. “I’m gonna go get some answers. I’ll be right back.” 

She slammed the door shut on any half-formed protest. All Christine could do was watch through the windshield as Nancy jogged after Jonathan, and then as Steve jogged after Nancy. They were immediately surrounded by a number of cops. There was some kind of argument, Nancy demanding something of one officer while the others exchanged weary looks. One of them took Nancy by the arm, and began pulling her toward one of the ambulances. Jonathan and Steve were dragged off too, split up to different corners of the parking lot for questioning. No one looked back at the car, and no one came over for Christine. 

She eyed the door to the school, unattended. 

Five minutes was long enough to say she’d waited in the car. 

It was tough to get the door open. Christine had to twist precariously in her seat to reach the door near her feet. She was only able to pull the handle by the tips of her fingers, and then kicked it open with her good foot. She slid out onto the pavement, using the car to balance her as she hopped on one foot. Suddenly, the distance between her and the school seemed a lot farther. 

She moved indelicately around the car. She winced every time she hopped, praying she wouldn’t wipe out and break her other ankle as well. Her hands had to stay on the car, to take as much weight off her leg as possible. And when she reached the edge of Jonathan’s car, she had to hop quickly across the gap to the next one. 

Jumping car to car, she worked her way toward the school. She was about a third of the way there before anyone noticed her. 

“Woah, woah! Where do you think you’re going?” 

A paramedic grabbed Christine by the elbow, steadying her as she hopped her way toward the trunk of a Buick. 

“I’ve got it,” Christine assured her, shrugging off her hands. “Thanks, though. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to worry about.” 

“I don’t think so.” She stepped in Christine’s path, inspecting the towels Jonathan had duct taped around her leg. “Is that a broken ankle?” 

“Uh…I don’t know. It’s not important, really. I’m fine.” 

“Uh-huh. Well you’re not gonna be fine when you face plant on the pavement and break your nose. Come here.” 

She stoutly ignored Christine’s protests. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, she escorted her to the closest ambulance. She sat Christine down at the back and disappeared briefly to get her kit. It wasn’t enough time for Christine to make a run for it. 

“What exactly did you do here?” the woman asked, cutting the duct tape loose. Christine hissed as the pressure came off her leg. She had been doing a pretty good job of ignoring the pain she was in. 

“Kicking something,” she excused through clenched teeth. “Repeatedly.” 

“Car break down?” 

“Boy drama.” 

“For real?” The woman looked up at her incredulously. “What could a boy do that was so bad you broke your leg mad about it?” 

Christine looked across the parking lot, where Jonathan was talking to the cop she recognized as Powell. He had his arms wrapped around his torso, and glanced over to Nancy as he spoke. 

“Trust me,” Christine groaned. “It would have been worth it.” 

She remained trapped in the ambulance as the paramedic examined her leg. There wasn’t much that could be done in the short term. The woman gave her some fresh ice, and wrapped her in compression bandages instead of kitchen towels. She was dishing out advice as she worked, everything from first aid to romance. But Christine wasn’t listening. She kept her eyes trained on the door to the school, monitoring everyone who came in or out. 

“What happened here?” she asked abruptly. “I mean, why is everyone at the school?” 

“No idea,” the woman said with a dry laugh. “Above my pay grade.” 

“Seriously? They didn’t tell you anything?” 

“Nothing specific. All I know is that the cops got some kind of anonymous tip, said there was some illegal activity going on. Military beat us to it, so I figured it must’ve been big. Then I saw the body bags and knew it must’ve been big.” 

“Who was it?” Christine asked. “Was it—I mean, where they students?” 

“No, no,” the woman dismissed. “No, they weren’t kids. I guess it must’ve been some of the government’s people. All adults in suits with their eyes bl—… Well. I don’t think I’m allowed to discuss open investigations, but it was gross.” 

Christine didn’t push the subject, sitting back so she could process that information. Maybe—just maybe—that meant Eleven was okay. Adults in suits sounded like government officials, and if they were dead then that meant that something had fought them off. The Demogorgon probably wouldn’t have left the bodies, but Eleven… Christine hadn’t considered whether or not she was powerful enough to kill someone. But after she’d thrown Lucas across the junkyard, it had to be a possibility. If Eleven had been defending herself, she might have had time to run… 

The school doors opened again. Several more officers where coming out, and this time, they had civilians with them. Christine nearly kicked the paramedic as she tried to get up. 

“Boys!” 

They stopped, heads wheeling around wildly until they spotted her by the ambulance. 

“Christine!” 

There was nothing the officers could do as the boys darted between their arms and escaped their grip. The boys sprinted across the parking lot, dodging officials left and right, until they collided with her in a hug. As usual, Dustin hit her first, knocking the wind out of her. 

“Oof! Oh my God, thank God. Thank God you’re okay.” 

“Thank God we’re okay? Thank God you’re okay! What the hell were you thinking, going up against the Demogorgon? That was insane! You’re awesome!” 

“Demo-what?” the paramedic asked. 

“Oh uh…” Christine winced, easing herself back onto the ambulance. “Like I said. Drama. Could—Could you give us a second?” 

The woman didn’t look convinced, but she put her kit back in the truck. “Fine, but don’t take too long. You need an X-Ray for that fracture. If I were you, I’d get your butt to the hospital.” 

“X-Ray?” Dustin repeated as the woman walked away. “Fracture? Christine, what the hell did you do?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

She turned back to the group. Her brain already knew that someone was wrong, but it wouldn’t let the complete thought form. She looked them over, instinctually doing her head count. One, two, three… 

“Where…Where is she?” Christine tried to keep her voice low, just in case they were still searching. “Is she hiding? I mean…” 

The boys’ faces fell. Just like that, the fragment of hope Christine had been holding onto vanished. 

“No. She’s—She’s not…” 

“It was the Demogorgon.” Mike’s voice was barely audible. It wasn’t because he was trying not to be overheard. It sounded like he just couldn’t muster the strength to be louder. “It found us and she—she saved us. But…now she’s gone.” 

“G-Gone? Gone like she’s…” 

“Gone,” said Lucas. “The Demogorgon kind of disintegrated. The lights were flashing real bad and—and when we opened our eyes she was just gone. We couldn’t find her anywhere.” 

“Well, you—you looked, right?” Christine’s voice broke. “She could still be hiding, or—or she could be in the Upside Down! If we go to the lab and find Hopper, he can…” 

“Chrissy,” Dustin said softly. She didn’t want to see him shake his head. “She said goodbye.” 

“No, but—but she can’t—she can’t have just—I told her—I didn’t get to…” 

She couldn’t get the thought out of her mouth. The boys still seemed to understand. 

It was Mike who pushed forward. Mike, who was crying just as much as she was, who buried his face in her shoulder and held on for all he was worth. Christine clutched at his jacket and ran a hand over his hair. They were both lost and anchor, comforting and inconsolable. 

Eleven was gone. And there was nothing they could do. 

The rest of the night seemed to move in slow motion. Christine was despondent as the world moved around her. At some point Nancy had pried Mike from her arms so she could hug him herself. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler had been called as well. They asked questions about the US Marshalls, and government agents that had been to their house. Christine didn’t know how much they knew, but they’d been silenced by other agents pretty quickly. Someone said something about paperwork, nondisclosure, national security. It was all meaningless blabber. 

Even after Mike and Lucas had been whisked off, Dustin stayed by her side. 

“Can you drive this thing?” he asked a different paramedic. “We need to go to the hospital. This idiot broke her leg and we need X-Rays.” 

“What happened?” the man asked, eyeing the fresh wrapping on her leg. 

Dustin took the liberty of answering for her. 

“She was trying to run here to find us and she tripped and fell off the road. She’s in shock. Her name’s Christine Walcott, she’s fifteen and a half, she lives at 66 Dover Avenue, and she’s allergic to shrimp and erythromycin.” 

“And…who are you?” 

“Dustin Henderson. 68 Dover Avenue. I’m her next door neighbor.” 

“Okay, well I can take her to the hospital, but unfortunately, you can’t come. Family only.” 

“Like hell I can’t!” Dustin argued. “Her dad’s out of town, and that means I’m the only family she’s got! Well, me and my mom. I need to call my mom once you get us to the hospital. She’s got the phone number for Mr. Walcott’s hotel. But we can’t wait for that! Didn’t you hear me? They said she needs an X-Ray, stat!” 

Needless to say, the medics let Dustin ride in the ambulance. It was mostly to shut him up, but Christine didn’t care. She was just glad to have someone holding her hand. 

Once they reached the hospital, a nurse had to forcibly separate them. She escorted Dustin to the front desk so he could use the phone. Christine was carted off the to the emergency room. She had to sit through X-Rays and answer some basic questions about what she’d done. She stuck with Dustin’s story of falling off the road. It was probably the first thing Nancy would say too, if anyone asked her. And it was a better story than kicking someone. 

Christine had some trouble focusing long enough to complete the paperwork she had to fill out, but no one seemed surprised. They marked it down to shock from the injury and told her she could call her father later. The doctors gave her some different pain medication, which only made it harder to focus on what was happening. She still cried as they set her leg. She was tired, she was overwhelmed, and she just wanted everything to be over. 

At some point, Claudia joined the commotion. She burst into the emergency room with Dustin at her side, shoving through the curtains and smothering Christine with a loving, tearful hug. 

“Oh, sweetheart, what did you do? Look at you! Are you alright? Dusty told me everything!” 

“He did?” 

“Yes!” Dustin smiled with an over-exaggerated nod. “I told her all about how Mike, Lucas and I went to the school to try and use the Heathkit, and how we called you, and how you were so mad that you started running from the Byers’ house, which is where you were, and how you fell off the road and hurt yourself and how Jonathan and Nancy had to drive you the rest of the way because you had all been together to study.” 

How his mother never knew when he was lying was a mystery. Dustin was awful at it. 

“That was so dangerous!” Claudia scolded her. “I mean, running along the backroads at night? We’re lucky you weren’t hit by a car!” 

“Yeah,” Christine sighed. “I know, I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, don’t apologize. You were just trying to look out for Dusty, as always. Ah! I can never thank you enough, Christine. You are truly the best babysitter in this town.” 

“Mom! Christine’s just my friend! She’s not my babysitter!” 

“Oh, I’m not?” Christine asked him teasingly. “What happened to desperate times?” 

“Desperate times are over,” he said with a shrug. “You’re okay now.” 

Christine smiled. She wished she felt better about it. 

It was a few hours before she was released. Her leg was in a cast, her arm in a sling for at least the next week. Dustin’s mom needed to push her in a wheelchair, which was about the most inconvenient thing she could imagine. She wanted to be independent, be alone, so she could barricade herself in her room and cry the way she’d wanted to all day. But it didn’t look like that was going to happen anytime soon. Claudia had already told her that her father was taking a rush flight back to Indiana the next morning, and her possible concussion meant she’d have to sleep over at the Hendersons’ for the night. Claudia was probably going to wake her up every hour, and the living room couch didn’t offer a lot of privacy to grieve. If she wanted to do that, she was going to have to lock herself in the bathroom. Even that was going to have to be put off. 

The waiting room was full to the brim. Every seat was occupied. Hopper sat next to Mr. Wheeler, who sat next to Steve, who was next to Mrs. Wheeler, Nancy, Mike and Lucas. Before they could even ask, Lucas was out of his seat. 

“They found him,” he blurted. “They came back and they found him! He’s alive!” 

“He’s—what?” 

Dustin gasped, followed by a strangled sound somewhere between a squeal, a sob and a battle cry. He nearly tackled Lucas to the ground. The two of them jumped around like idiots, Mike joining the pile with a weak laugh. Christine knew the sound. Even as relief filled her chest, it was the only kind of laugh she could muster at the moment as well. 

“What in the world…?” asked Claudia. 

Thankfully, Chief Hopper stepped in before Christine had to come up with another lie. 

“Christine,” he said with a short nod. “How’s the leg?” 

“Fine. I just tripped running to the school.” 

Hopper raised an eyebrow. His sharp eyes reminded her a little of Eleven. One glance, and she was sure he already knew exactly what stupid shit she’d been up to and exactly how she’d broken her leg. 

 “Chief, what is going on?” Claudia asked, still staring at her son. 

“The Byers’ boy,” he said shortly. “He turned up in the woods on the west end of town. Sick as a dog, but he should pull through.” 

Claudia’s jaw dropped. “But—But Will was—there was a body! And the funeral?” 

“I know. Can’t explain it.” 

Hopper had shrugged as he said it, but his eyes were still locked with Christine. It sounded like an explanation, but she knew it was more of a warning. Don’t explain it. Don’t talk about it. Not to anyone. Not at any time. 

 Christine nodded. 

“I guess it’s just one of those things,” she said. “Crazy stuff. Doppelgangers and shit.” 

“Doppelgangers?” Claudia repeated, still reeling. 

“Yeah, you know. Someone who looks just like you. They’re supposed to be bad luck. Like supernatural omens or beings from a different dimension.” 

Hopper glared at her, and pulled out his pack of cigarettes with a little too much force. 

“Oh, you—she doesn’t know what she’s saying,” Claudia said sheepishly. “Come on, Chrissy, let’s—let’s wheel you over here…” 

“I’ve got her, Mrs. Henderson.” Nancy had appeared at her shoulder, waving Claudia toward the chairs. “Here, why don’t you take my seat?” 

“Aw! That’s so sweet of you. Thank you, Nancy, honey. Chrissy, are you…?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine, Claudia. Thanks.” 

Claudia smiled and hurried off to the vacant seat next to Mrs. Wheeler. It looked like she was ready to begin gossiping about the exciting turn of events. 

“Water?” Nancy asked, nodding down the hallway. 

“Please.” 

Nancy wheeled her out of the room. It was a relief to get away from the prying eyes, even more of a relief than finding out Will was alive if it were possible. It made her feel stupid, guilty. But it already felt easier to breathe. 

“Are you okay?” Nancy whispered as they walked. 

“Considering I was ripped out of an interdimensional portal and thrown across a room by that thing? Yeah, I’m okay. Cast will stay on for a month or two, sling for about a week. I’ll live.” 

“That’s good. Everyone’s been so worried. Even Steve. He looked like he was about to pee his pants.” 

Christine snorted, but didn’t pursue it. That conversation still felt a little fresh. 

“Where’s Jonathan?” she asked. 

“Home.” Nancy sighed as they reached the water fountain, and grabbed a cup for Christine. “He’s coming back, he just wanted to grab some stuff for Will.” 

“Hopper said he’s sick?” 

“Yeah. He was there for almost a week, so…between the starvation, hypothermia, dehydration…I mean I can’t imagine staying there for more than a couple minutes…” 

“I know what you mean.” 

Nancy stilled, but smiled as she passed Christine her cup. “Yeah. I guess you do.” 

Neither of them said anything else on the subject. Both of their thoughts were elsewhere, back in that dark place filled with motes and slime. A shiver went down Christine’s back, and her teeth chattered into her cup. 

“Hey,” Nancy said softly. She was picking at the cuffs of her sweater. “I didn’t want to ask, but…Eleven? Is she…?” 

Christine shook her head. 

“I’m…I’m so sorry, Chris. I know how worried you were, and…” 

“Can—Can we not talk about it?” Christine whimpered the question out, and had to put her cup down so she could wipe her face. “Just, not right now? I’m just—I’m gonna start crying and then people are gonna ask questions and we won’t be able to answer them and…” 

“No, of course. Sorry, I just…I’m sorry.” 

But the damage had already been done. Christine bit hard on her bottom lip, tilting her head back to look up at the ceiling. She’d been hoping gravity would keep the water in her eyes. All it really did was push the tears down the sides of her face. Gravity wasn’t an ally today at all. 

Nancy hushed her, kneeling down next to her wheelchair. Her hug was awkward. Her arms were too short to reach all the way around Christine, the sling and the seat. But Christine appreciated it all the same. It gave her enough cover to cry. Just a few tears, for just a few minutes, just before they had to go back to lying. 

They waited in the lobby for another few hours. Christine had stopped trying to keep track of the time. No one was speaking to each other. Steve was still there for some reason, sitting in the corner and looking extremely out of place among the other adults. Hopper had come back from his smoke break, and was plucking at an elastic band on his wrist. Dustin and Lucas had straight up fallen asleep. Christine sat next to Nancy at the end of the row, magazine in her lap. She wasn’t reading it per se, but she wanted to keep her mind busy. If that meant reading her horoscope from seven months ago, so be it. 

The door opened, and everyone looked up to see Jonathan peeking his head into the room. It was clear he’d been crying, but he was sporting a smile. 

Mike was the first out of his chair. 

“Guys! Guys, he’s up! Will is up! Guys, Will is up!” 

He smacked Lucas and Dustin abruptly into consciousness, then sprinted through the door and down the hall. The other boys groaned and shoved each other, competing to be the second one through. Dustin managed it first, then smacked into Lucas when he turned around. 

“Christine, let’s move it! Will’s awake!” 

He ran away before she could respond. 

“Oh, uh…is that okay?” she asked Jonathan. “I know there’s probably a limit…” 

“My brother just came back from the dead,” he reminded her. “I don’t think they can say anything about guest limits.” 

“Besides,” Nancy said with a smile. “You’re a patient, right?” 

Still feeling a bit uncomfortable, Christine allowed Nancy to wheel her into the hallway. They followed Jonathan down the hall, but they didn’t exactly need a guide. They could have tracked the source of the boys’ excited shouting from clear across the building. 

“Be careful!” Mrs. Byers was warning over them. “Be careful with him!” 

“Guys,” Jonathan chimed in as they reached the door. “Guys, go easy on him.” 

Even with the concern, he was laughing. It was hard not to, the way all of the boys were trying to dog pile onto the bed. They were reluctant to move back, not wanting to risk losing him again. But through the cracks between their shoulders, Christine could see Will on the bed. He looked a little smaller, a little paler, and a little worse for wear. But he was smiling brightly, very much alive. It was more than they could have hoped for. 

“Oh—Christine!” Mrs. Byers stepped away from her son’s bed, leaving the boys to chatter excitedly. “What—What happened, sweetheart?” 

“It’s nothing,” Christine assured her. She raised her good hand with air quotations. “I tripped on the side of the road. Really, it’s nothing major.” 

Still, Mrs. Byers pressed her hands over her mouth. She hurried to help Nancy push the wheelchair into the room, and once she’d crossed the threshold, she kneeled down at Christine’s side. 

“Jonathan told me what happened,” she said in a hushed voice. “Fighting that monster and—and trying to get through to Will. I mean, Hopper and I could hear you screaming…” 

“You could?” Christine asked in surprise. She hadn’t been sure it worked. 

“Yes! We heard you screaming for help, and I was so worried and—and that was so reckless! You kids could have been hurt! You did get hurt!” 

“Seriously, Mrs. Byers. I’m fine.” 

“I—I know. I know you are, but…still. Thank you, Christine.” 

She grabbed Christine’s free hand in both of her own, holding onto it tightly. She almost looked like she was going to start crying again. But Dustin intervened. 

“Chrissy! Sorry, Mrs. Byers, can I borrow her? Christine, come on.” 

He pushed everyone else out of the way, shoving her chair closer to the hospital bed. The boys parted for her, letting her right up to the handrail. 

“Christine?” Will asked in surprise. “Seriously? I thought Lucas was joking.” 

“Told you he’s in love with you,” Dustin said to her, making Lucas smack him. 

“Hey there, Will the Wise,” Christine offered with a smile. “You made it. That’s pretty impressive.” 

“Thanks,” he said shyly. “Are you okay? Why are you in a wheelchair?” 

“She was battling the Demogorgon,” Lucas said proudly. 

“She was trying to distract it,” Mike explained. “So we could get to you.” 

“It was pretty badass,” said Dustin. “She’s pretty much part of the party now.” 

“I am?” 

This was news to Christine, news that Mike immediately swept back under the rug. 

“We have to have a formal discussion,” he said quickly. “Party changes have to be mandated by a unanimous vote. But still, it—it was pretty cool.” 

“You should’ve seen it!” Dustin gushed. “She was talking about all these theories about different dimensions…” 

“And she knows so much about theoretical physics!” 

“And we were keeping Eleven at her house, so it was like safe haven…” 

“It was just like that campaign where…” 

The boys babbling on around her, Christine couldn’t help but smile. It had been a long week for all of them. They’d been through a lot. She’d hated seeing them so sad about Will, so scared of the unknown, so mad at each other. But for now, they were all back to normal—smiling and grinning and rambling about D&D. It had been worth it, if it meant Will was home. 

It had almost all been worth it.