#just finished volume 2 and i want to jump off my fire escape

[needlessly-wordy]

i would like to read. magicath’s snowbaz fanfiction. please

[7wanderingpaws]

Always, yours (2)

(gif not mine) - THIS Baek tho..... ㅠ

Warnings: none

Word count: 6.5K

Tags: @geniusloey​ (please let me know if you want to be un/tagged!)

❤ Enjoy! Please let me know your thoughts! ^^ Have a good start of the week!❤

Also, the new apartment!

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Masterlist / story masterlist

<-- Previous - Next -->

Second - My name is Lee Junho and I will be your trainer

You stood at the entrance of the gym, your palms somehow clammy. You didn’t realize putting on leggings would look this bad. Tears welled up in your eyes when Sukyeong took your hand to yank you inside.

“C’mon, don’t be ridiculous,” she whispered to you and when she managed to pull you inside, she pressed her fisted hand against your back, making you walk ahead. “You look great! You don’t even look like you’ve been pregnant,” she hissed in your ear.

Arguable, you thought right away but decided not to be any more negative. The only good point was you were able to leave home without the triplets. Baekhyun, just as promised, was home by six so you didn’t have to worry about leaving them at the baby corner (it was baby safe, you went to check the place out).

Slightly bowing to the other girls as you walked past, most of them your age or older, you decided to be in the back, far away from the teaching lady. You imagined her being young, and very fit. Her black hair would be shiny and she would have make-up to look perfect. A great way to ruin one’s self-esteem such as yours.

However, a single nudge from Sukyeong and your non-existent self-esteem basically vanished into thin air. Instead, anxiety with a sprinkle of bewitchedness, hit you for in walked a handsome male, around Baekhyun's age, with eyes like that of a cat's; narrow and sharp, his features leveled, nose straight with a pair of plump lips. He had longer dark hair that fell over his forehead in fluffy waves.

“Good evening, ladies!” he announced himself, clapping twice to gain everyone's attention. He didn't have to do it though; more than half of the ladies were already salivating over him, including your best friend. When the trainer saw wide eyes on him, he let out a boyish chuckle and this time, you couldn't escape the charm either. He was incredibly handsome. “My name is Lee Junho and I will be your trainer! I have some experience with working out,” he joked and, of course, everyone laughed louder than it was necessary. His toned chest and arms spoke volumes about his experience. “Please, let me know in advance if there are any injuries you have so that I can adjust the exercises to you accordingly. Do you have any questions?” He looked around with interest, his eyes skimming through any possible curious hand.

“Should I tell him that I'm…. you know,” you mumbled to Sukyeong but before you could finish your sentence, you shook your head, stopping yourself. It will be alright, you thought. As always, you made sure to feed the triplets properly and pump your breasts, so you expected no problems with the excessive breast milk leaking over your t-shirt this time.

Just like that, you found yourself jumping up and down as the exercise started. Lee Junho seemed to be a great professional, always adjusting everyone's postures to ensure full effectiveness. With the help of the deafening pop music, everything seemed suddenly possible. Until it came to you and until he lingered more by your side than the rest of the girls.

It was to be expected, but you still felt stupid. You couldn't do the push-ups like all the other girls who already had a great body. Meanwhile, hidden under Baekhyun's huge black shirt that you stole, was your still-fading baby bump. It was difficult to even try to get your shoulders off the mat as you did sit-ups; you were heaving loudly, sweat dripping down your face.

“Push just a little bit more,” murmured Junho with an encouraging  smile as he put his hand between your shoulder blades, helping you sit up higher. It was a good support, but your abs were on fire, numbing everything that was made out of your core. “That's right, keep doing it like that.”

You hummed, and tried a few more times before giving up. Sukyeong wasn't that much better than you, but she still could sit up. She flashed you a small smile and mouthed: “Are you okay?”

You nodded, resting your head on the mat, trying to breathe through the workout.

As you moved through various core strengthening exercises, you started to feel it. The hurting in your breasts, the kind of feeling that you tried to prevent from happening at all costs. The closest you could compare it to was rocks.

You felt yourself panicking when you looked at Junho who was paying attention to someone else. If you wouldn't leave now, it would be too late.

“I'll be back in a minute,” you told Sukyeong, scrambling up to shaky legs. Baekhyun's shirt was getting wet now, your sports bra quickly becoming a bucket full of milk. Making few quick steps, you walked over to the door when Junho spoke up:

“Oi, are you okay? Are you sick?” He came running to you by the entrance door.

You shook your head with a polite smile. “I really need to use the bathroom.”

“Oh, we will be finishing up soon,” he said, giving you a look. Right, kids in kindergarten were learning how to hold their pee in, not how to hold back the breast milk.

You were embarrassed, but you still said: “Well, I ate something bad and this won't wait any longer-” you pushed the door open and jogged for the toilets, already pushing up the soaked shirt. Once safely inside, you yanked down the sports bra and let the milk out. You exhaled a loud sigh of relief. You knew this would cause a little mess as it was several streaks that were leaking, the milk staining everything around.

Chewing your lips, you strained your ears when you heard commotion outside, the class most probably finished. You'd been in the toilets for at least ten minutes now, so you expected Sukyeong to come search for you soon.

There was a hasty knock on the door and you were fast to hide your chest back under the shirt. Then you heard your best friend's whisper: “It's just me! Can I come in?”

You were fast to give her the permission. She closed the door behind her and you took out your breasts again, the milk once again spraying everywhere. Sukyeong scratched her head, clueless. “I have a spare shirt. Here,” she handed you the white thermal-shirt.

You shook your head. “No, I cannot wear this. It'll stain and I bet the shirt was expensive,” you bit your lip. Before she could protest with a conflicted gaze, you just waved your hand nonchalantly. “I'll be done soon. It's already much better. Besides, I don't think I could push it over my chest. I'm huge,” you admitted quietly, a little embarrassed. You trusted Sukyeong and she would never joke or judge but it was still an uncomfortable situation only Baekhyun was allowed to witness. When you saw she wasn't convinced, you added with a smile: “Baekhyun gave me a sweater before coming here, so I will wear that. Go and get our stuff? I'll be out in a minute.”

“Will you be fine?” she said, her eyes widening in small fear at the sight of the milk.

“Of course,” you winked. She gave you a look over and when she was convinced, she turned, leaving you in the toilets alone. 

Just a few minutes later and the flow finally calmed down. You took some toilet paper, wiping yourself up before cleaning up the surroundings. You were drained and you didn't even finish the workout.

When you were sure everything looked decent, you finally walked back to the gym. It was empty; only some distant sounds of chattering coming your way. Sukyeong was in the corner, entertaining the trainer.

“Are you okay?” he asked you when you walked over to them, taking your bag and your phone along the way. Junho didn't look necessarily worried, but he seemed to care enough about his clients which you found good enough. 

“Yes,” you smiled half-heartedly. “Thank you.”

Sukyeong bowed to Junho. “Then we will take our leave!”

“Alright, it was nice meeting you. I will see you on Thursday, ladies,” he pressed a smile, bowing politely. He kept following you with his sharp eyes and, unconsciously, you became shy under his scrutiny. There was something happening whenever your eyes met and you weren't sure what it was. Maybe you were just making it up because he was handsome and you wanted to believe he had an eye for you. It would make you feel like you could have been special.

“Goodness, what a hotshot,” murmured Sukyeong to you as the both of you left the premises of the gym. “He is so smart!”

You sighed, quickly putting on the sweater Baekhyun pushed into your hand before leaving the apartment. You will be sweaty, make sure to wear this once you're done, he would tell you. “You managed to get something out of him?”

“Doesn't seem to be here just to eye the girls,”she informed you proudly as she slugged her bag over her shoulder. “So that is a plus point!”

She led the both of you to the carpark, her shiny small Kia awaiting you near the exit. It was a good idea to park it nearby as you didn't have to walk more on your wobbly legs. Once seated inside, you threw your bag on the backseat and sighed, leaning your head back against the headrest.

“Are you alright?” asked Sukyeong, uncertainty evident in her eyes as she placed her bag behind her seat and turned back front, pressing the button to bring the car to life.

You nodded, though she couldn't see you. “I'm okay, thank you.” You hesitated. “Maybe a little embarrassed,” you finally admitted, staring out of your window to see other women entering their cars. Many of them owned Mercedes' or BMWs and you instantly wondered how they were able to afford such a car at such a young age.

“Oh, dear, no.” Sukyeong was fast to turn to grab your thigh, trying to bring your diverted attention to her. “There is nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“I literally told him if I don't leave I will poo myself,” you whined and turned to her dramatically.

Sukyeong was about to refute but she stopped, surprised at your words. “Wait, you told him that?”

You nodded, exasperated. “I told the handsome dude I can't keep it in if he won't let me leave. I couldn't possibly tell him: yo, move or else I'll shoot you down with my breastmilk now, could I?”

She burst out into a huge laughter, her nose scrunching up in the process. “Well, if you say it like that!”

Both of you were now laughing, though you were more on the desperate side. You really made an idiot out of yourself while still having the issue of controlling your milk.

“You know, I think it would be good to tease Baekhyun a little bit. I told you that you shouldn’t let him prioritize his job. If he does it you need to show him you aren’t someone he can take for granted.”

Your joyful smile slowly melted into a frown. “Baekhyun never took me for granted and you also know it.”

“Of course I know it! I’d trust Baekhyun with my life,” she insisted quickly and started driving out of the car park and out to the busy Seoul traffic. It was incredible how this city never slept. “I’m just trying to say that a little bit of teasing never hurt anyone. You’re now a mother and you have three kids together.”

Small silence took over the car. You were looking out of the window, enjoying the unusual luxury of being in a car instead of a packed bus while your mind was roaming over what your friend said. “So, you say our relationship can become rusty? He would lose interest after some time now that I’m not so... fresh?”

Sukyeong breathed out a small laugh at the choice of your words. “I doubt Baekhyun would get tired of you.  Ever. It is true that men see their women differently after birthing their children.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, thinking over what to tell you. “You’re only twenty-three —you’re too young, so make sure to let him know you’re still full of life and can become hard to tie down.”

You let out a doubtful snort but you felt uneasy at the topic. It never occurred to you that one day you and Baekhyun wouldn’t be together. It never occurred to you that you could lose love for each other because both of your interests would change and he would seek consolation from another partner and maybe you would stay alone. This wasn’t a new thought to you; Jiyoung, Baekhyun’s ex colleague, was challenging you more than enough in the past but even then you knew Baekhyun wasn’t interested in her. What if he found someone that actually piqued his interest? 

You shook your head quickly, rejecting the ugly idea. “You city girls have a very interesting way of thinking.”

“Just do it.” Sukyeong looked at you with excited eyes when she stopped at another red light. “Mention a hot trainer and see what’ll happen,” she told you wickedly, giggling.

<3

Upon arriving at home, you were met with Baekhyun's high-pitched talk. It calmed you down right away, and you felt like in safe haven after the small fight in the gym.

“I'm home,” you sing-sang, dropping the bag down by the entrance and taking off the sweater.

Baekhyun faked a gasp. “Who is it, Jun? Is it mummy? Let's check it out quickly!” And within a second, he appeared with Jun hanging off his connected arms, pretending he was on an airplane. Even though you trusted Baekhyun with keeping the baby safe in his arms, it gave you a little heart attack. Besides, triplets were still too small for that. “Look, Jun, it's mummy!” he exclaimed while looking over his shoulder, most probably checking  Juna and Junhee. “Welcome  home, babe,” he told you with a leveled voice, looking at you now. He adjusted Jun in his arms, having his head on his shoulder while you took off your shoes, watching him.

Your husband looked so incredibly soft. His hair was now covering his forehead, somehow making his eyes look much more puppy-eyed, just like the baby he was holding. Despite being so wide and incredibly manly, you had the urge to squeeze his cheeks like you would do to your triplets, because he was so adorable, so loveable. He was wearing his huge white T-shirt and black pants and no socks; the typical look when he was home, but for some reason, after going through challenges in the gym, you felt like he was much more inviting and cuddly, providing you comfort by simply being him, by simply staring at you with those soft eyes. He was so Baekhyun.

“I see you are having a good time,” you noted with a smile and stood on your tiptoes when Baekhyun demanded a kiss with puckered lips like a little duck. You made sure to cradle Jun’s tiny butt, your expert hand immediately knowing he had a change of the nappy recently. 

“Now it's much better,” he muttered, kissing you with a loud smooch. “How was the work-out?” he asked when he straightened up, rocking Jun exaggeratedly in his arms. Just then, his eyes dropped to your chest, the white stains very much obvious on the black textile. “Shit, did you leak?”

You shrugged, not wanting to talk about it as you walked past him to greet your daughters that were on the playmat with their little toys. “I should have known better.” Baekhyun followed you, watching as you sat down and kissed the two baby girls. “Time to change the nappies over here, hm?” Your voice was light as you touched the babies’ butts but you were surprised when they were all clean, too. Baekhyun must have worked hard during your absence.

“Sweetheart, we should go to the doctor's,” Baekhyun told you as he sat down on the couch in front of the play mat. Jun squirmed in his arms, whimpering, so he laid him gently on the blanket that was splayed next to him. “I don't like this and they could solve the issue.”

You took Junhee's tiny feet into your hands, massaging them, the skin incredibly smooth under your palm. “I'm scared they will do something that will prevent me from feeding them.”

“You know it doesn't matter whether you feed them breast milk or we give them formula. You breastfed long enough anyway. This is about your well-being, too.”

“I just want them to be close to me as much as possible,” you said, lowering your voice. It made you remember how you didn’t even think much about feeding your kids while being pregnant, and now here you were, reluctant to let go of breastfeeding. Three babies was a lot of hard work, but it was always your dream to be a mother. You wanted to make sure you really didn’t have a choice before you would make a decision. Baekhyun was correct, but you still believed the longer you were with the babies the stronger would be your bond with them. “It's a good way for them to be connected to me.”

Baekhyun observed you for a moment before checking Jun whose feet were up in the air, his tiny hands coming up to pat on them clumsily. He was a little baby ball discovering all the possible movements his body was slowly able to make. “I understand. I just want you to know that it isn't a bad thing if you stop doing it. Some women can't breastfeed at all.”

“Because they are unable to, Baekhyun.” The way your voice had an edge to it made you look up at him to catch a little panic in his eyes. He didn't want to make you upset and you felt guilty right away. “I am perfectly able to provide them with milk, but I overproduce and yes it makes my life a little more difficult but I don’t want to lose this opportunity. I'd rather not go.”

“Okay, as you wish,” he gave up quickly, not wanting to argue. He understood why you would be upset. And usually, he would try to be more persistent since he didn’t want you to suffer but he could sense your damp mood; the workout most probably gave you a harder time, he guessed. And, of course, he, as a man, couldn't comprehend completely what you were going through when your milk was flowing from you like an unstoppable mountain stream.

You hummed and stood up, your ankles sighing at the movement. “I'll go wash up.”

Baekhyun followed you with his gaze until you disappeared in the corridor that led towards your shared bedroom. He looked back down at Jun and then at the girls on the mat. “Well, what shall we do to make mummy feel better?” he pouted at them.

Small baby gurgles came back to him in response. “Right, I agree,” he replied thoughtfully. He was quiet for a moment, only hearing the distant sounds from the TV and your movements in the bedroom. Checking the clock on the opposite wall, he was fast to jump up. “Now, you naughty kids, it’s way past your bedtime and you still don’t sleep! Let’s get you all to the crib before mommy comes back!”

Since the triplets were calm, he knew they would fall asleep soon. He made sure their energy would be somehow drained while you were away although he was sure he used up more energy than they did. It was difficult to work with infants and he didn’t know how you managed it on a daily basis nonstop. Another reason for him to admire and respect you.

“I’ll see you whenever you wake us up,” he told them when he put Jun, the last baby,  in the crib. He laughed gently to himself and observed his offsprings with a tender gaze. He had to admit that Jun looked like him when he was a baby. Junhee was definitely your splitting image while Juna seemed to be in the middle, though her eyes were Baekhyun’s, too. She was the perfect mix of you and him. 

He wondered which one of them would love hapkido. He wondered which one of them would be smart in mathematics like you were. Which one of them would hate foreign languages and cucumbers? Which one of them would cry the most in the kindergarten and which one of them would always be the quiet one? Baekhyun hoped and wished that the triplets would have a special bond that would always protect them from getting hurt by other people. After all, the world kept getting harsher and harsher day by day.

“I’ll always be there for you,” he whispered just when Junhee’s eyes closed, her small mouth hanging open when she let go of the pacifier. “You’ll always have me and mummy to protect you. Always.”

<3

You took your time in the bathroom. Muscles you didn't know existed were aching, so you took the luxury to let yourself be soaked in warm water a little bit longer. There was a soft knock on the door and you quickly let Baekhyun enter.

He was expressionless but when you locked eyes as he closed the door with his back, he pulled a smile meant only for you. “Do you feel better?” he asked quietly, setting the monitor on the sink before walking up to you. He leaned down, pecking you on the top of your head.

“Much better,” you sighed, closing your eyes when you felt his hand slide down your cheek and to your neck. Since he brought in the monitor with him, you took it he managed to put the babies to sleep. It only made you feel worse that you still could become irritated at such a good husband like Baekhyun. “Sorry I snapped at you.”

“No,” he was fast to mutter against your hair, his thumb grazing the skin on your jaw. “I understand. I am just worried, is all.”

“I know, and I don't appreciate it enough,” you replied and Baekhyun pulled away to look down at you with crinkled eyes.

“You do much more, sweetheart. Don't be so harsh on yourself, hm?” He let go of you and slid down next to the bathtub, his back against it. You had the urge to splash him with water but you decided you would have a water fight another day. “Besides, you went to work out after a full day of mothering. It's only natural you'd be frustrated.”

“If only you couldn't read me so well.”

Baekhyun smiled to himself. “How could I tease you if I wouldn't know my wife so well, hm?”

He heard you let out a small chuckle from behind him. “Life would be so much easier.”

Your husband laughed and turned his head to look at you over his shoulder. Water was just barely covering your chest, your cheeks were rosy from the heat and your baby hair was curled up from the humidity. Goodness, he couldn't stop staring. You looked like an angel.

“What?” you murmured, his intense gaze making you pink even more.

“Nothing,” was his breathy reply. “Just admiring my gorgeous little lady.”

With a shy smile, you sat up, causing small waves in the bathtub, and you pressed your lips to his pouty ones. His eyes widened playfully and when you wanted to pull back, he chased your lips, grounding you. You smiled, bringing your wet hand up to his cheek, but he didn't react to the wetness, simply prolonging the innocent kiss. “You know,” you told him when you separated, your noses still touching. Baekhyun hummed in interest, watching your lips before he flickered his orbs up to yours. “There was a really hot guy in the gym.”

Baekhyun blinked a couple of times, letting your words sink in and he was fast to withdraw from you. “What?”

You giggled, satisfied at his reaction. It wasn't that bad to listen to Sukyeong's offer after all. “Yes, he was the one leading the class today.”

“A hot guy leading a class for women?” he repeated, surprised.

Now then, why did he ever expect you to just not pay attention to other males? You never did, or so he thought, but he was still taken aback. The way your eyes sparkled in mischief was an obvious sign that you were just trying to rile him up for whatever reason, yet he still felt a little protective. Did that man look at you, too?!

“Why, you don't like it?” you quipped, poking your tongue out to him.

He observed you giggling, your eyes crinkled up when you took note of his disapproval. Something moved within him. “You want me to like it?”

You sighed lovingly and booped his nose. “I want you to like me, silly. I’m just playing around.”

Baekhyun huffed, offended, and spoke in a prominent pout: “I don't like it, young lady. You have me. You have triplets with me. I love you. And you love me.”

“That, I do.” Bringing up in the air your left hand, you looked how the band on your fourth finger caught the light in the bathroom. “And here is the proof.”

He was looking up at your hand and he joined it with his, his own ring shining just like yours. He enveloped his fingers around yours gently. “Why would you try to make oppa worried about such things?” murmured Baekhyun in wonder as he stood up and towered over you. He let go of your hand and leaned further down so his face was close to yours, his long neck chain swaying in the air between you. “Oppa doesn't like sharing, but you know that, right?”

You nodded, awaiting his next words. Except, it wasn't words. Baekhyun surprised you by swiftly lowering his hands into the warm water to grab a hold of you under your knees and waist. You squealed, suddenly scared you might slip out of his grip so you quickly circled your arms around his neck, water splashing everywhere. But seeing his biceps flexing you knew he was much better than Lee Junho or any other trainer there was.

“I'm naked and wet, Baekhyun!” you screamed and Baekhyun laughed loudly, enjoying your little panic as he moved you out of the bathtub, bringing you over where the sink was.

“Hmm, exactly,” he hummed in appreciation, his eyes twinkled and you quickly hid your face in his neck, embarrassed. “You don't get to play with oppa's heart like that and not get punished, baby girl.”

Despite the excitement, he put you down, more worried about you catching a cold than teasing the hell out of you. As soon as your legs were on the floor, you slapped his chest, making the male groan. “You silly! You could have dropped me!”

“I would never,” he denied quietly, pecking you sweetly and reaching for the towel that was hanging next to the bathtub. “And don't forget,” he reminded, wrapping the towel around your shoulders, making sure it was catching every drop of water, “that you still have a punishment list from when you were pregnant. Don't think I forgot.”

Your eyes widened in horror and you frowned at him like a little kid though secretly you really thought he had forgotten. “You are being so mean right now!”

Baekhyun only smirked and tapped your naked bum gently as he brought your body closer. “You asked for it. From now on, I won't hold back anymore,” he murmured, brushing your hair behind your ear. It tickled.

There were feelings of excitement, eagerness and curiosity bubbling in your tummy, or maybe those were just the butterflies Baekhyun awakened whenever he did something heart-fluttering and challenging to your relationship. It was a long time since you two had been together, but finding ways to ignite the passion and desire in the both of you was Baekhyun's specialty. And you would try to make it yours, now that you seemed to find a weak spot of his.

“You can start by kissing me as a thank you for bringing you out of the tub,” he said when you didn't reply.

You scoffed and re-adjusted the towel, bringing it around your body. It made you feel conscious that you were completely naked in front of him, although Baekhyun didn't even pay attention. His own clothes were wet since he brought you out of the water. The white tshirt was stuck to his stomach, perfectly outlining his muscles.

Baekhyun pursed his lips when you didn't listen. You turned to walk out of the bathroom but he was fast to grab your wrist, turning you back to him. “I said, give me a kiss.”

“No!” You shook your head resolutely, sticking your lower lip out as you frowned, hoping to make him agitated.

The excitement in you only doubled when Baekhyun quirked an eyebrow, leaning his head closer to yours and turning his smooth cheek towards you as he tapped his long index finger on it. “C’mon, a peck for oppa.”

His other hand sneakily wandered to your side to tickle you and you were fast to giggle crazily, pushing his hand away. “Okay, okay,” you said quickly and pressed your lips to his awaiting cheek. He hummed, feeling your mouth stretched in a smile and he turned his face, his lips colliding with yours.

You squealed, wanting to step back - because he was being unfair - but his hands sneaked around your waist, bringing you to him and therefore successfully caging you in. He urged your mouth open, slowly pushing his tongue into your cavern that became quickly eager to feel him. You sighed and slid your hands up his sturdy chest. You nibbled on his lip though he quickly stopped you when he sucked on your tongue hard, bringing out a small moan out of you. He made out with you sensually and you knew you were becoming giddy because of him.

He let his hands grope your bum, giving a good massage to your aching muscles and you moaned again, satisfied. “I guess I will have to show you a much better workout routine,” Baekhyun whispered when he let go of your lips with a smack.

Your heart skipped a beat when you realized there really wasn’t anything standing in your way. The triplets were asleep and Baekhyun riled you up so much it would be difficult to lie down next to him without touching him. “Then show me, oppa,” you made sure to emphasize the “p” sound, his twinkly eyes on your swollen lips.

He chuckled lovingly and kissed your forehead, his lips leaving a bit of moisture behind. Gently intertwining your hands, he led you out of the bathroom and straight to your bed. 

“Lie down for me, sweetheart,” he told you quietly as he went to close the bedroom door. Once you got the needed privacy, he reached behind him, pulling on the shirt that he swiftly took off, your eyes appreciating the way his muscles flexed. He threw it on the floor and walked over to you, already lying on bed as he told you to. “Let me remind you that you’re oppa’s,” he mumbled with passion, already distracted by your body that was still covered with the towel.

His words ignited the desire in you and when he hovered over you with a focused gaze, you knew this would be a long night for the both of you.

<3

On Thursday, you went to the gym with determination. The reason was simple: two babies hanging off you and one hanging off of Sukyeong. Baekhyun was running late from work so you had to bring them with you this time. Despite your huge worries, you had to drop them off at the baby corner. The kind, elderly lady showed you the young babysitter that would be in charge of your triplets (after everyone stopped ogling them and squealing about how cute they were). Her name was Sonhee and her smile was the purest you had ever laid eyes on. Her face was gentle and her eyes seemed to be telling a story of a difficult life. What was a little interesting was that you had a feeling you had seen her somewhere before and it wasn't in this gym.

“Do you have any license to prove that she is capable of taking care of three infants?” barged into the conversation Sukyeong, her eyes suspiciously looking over the girl. Even though you had the same question, you wouldn't have uttered it so bluntly. “She looks too young. Even younger than their mother,” she added with a huff.

The lady in charge, Mrs Lee, didn’t show her shock - that was if there was any. “She is the eldest sibling in her family. At home, she is taking care of five more siblings and she is a kindergarten teacher in practice during the school year.”

Your mouth shaped an “o”, nodding thoughtfully and you quickly nudged Sukyeong, catching her opening her mouth to rebut again. “Thank you. I know Sonhee won't do anything to undermine my trust.”

“I will do my best.” Sonhee bowed the perfect 90 degrees and you quickly lowered your head as well, accepting her respect. “I will make sure nothing bad will happen!”

You smiled and quickly looked over the triplets again. They were three months old and you would already let them be with a stranger. Were you still considered a responsible and good mother?

“All the rich mothers do it and they are considered great for doing it,” answered your question Sukyeong in a monotone as you were walking to the gym. “It is just sixty minutes - what can happen during such a short time?”

You frowned, pouting. “Oh, once you'll have kids, you will know, Sukyeong-ah,” you mumbled under your breath. With babies, things could go wrong within seconds. What made Sukyeong ever believe leaving babies alone for sixty minutes was safe?

“Well, it'll be fine!” she smiled brightly as you entered a still empty gym. You put your bag and phone down, and noticed the last message Baekhyun wrote:

sorry again baby enjoy your workout let me know if the munchkins were okay when you dropped them off love you baby ❤️

Your heart fluttered at the last sentence and you shot him a quick reply with an update when you heard the door of the gym opening, you trainer, Lee Junho, appearing.

He had a sleeveless sports shirt that showed his defined arms and boy, was he chunky in all the right ways. You were the first one his eyes fell on and his straight lips stretched into a delightful smile. To your surprise, he called your name: “Hello! You came already today! Ah, Sukyeong, too!”

You gave him a shy smile and caught him looking quickly over your outfit. The typical. Baekhyun's huge shirt with old pants that your legs could get lost in. You wouldn't be wearing leggins any time soon, you swore. All the ladies wore tight pilates clothing, so you were aware you looked like a trash bag but you never felt more comfortable. Just to see whether Junho let something on in his face, you watched him, but he only diverted his attention to Sukyeong who greeted him with a wide smile.

“Were you alright on Tuesday after the class?” asked Junho as he started to stretch on the floor.

Sukyeong, wanting to be a good student, followed him while you were still standing, the phone in your hands vibrating with most probably incoming messages from your husband. You pinked.

“Ye-yeah, I was … okay,” you mumbled. You already forgot about the stupid lie you made up so he would let you go to the troilets on Tuesday. Baekhyun made sure you forgot about every sane thought that night, so in conclusion, you were more than alright after class on Tuesday.

Junho nodded attentively. “Well, you can try to take it easier today, I won’t mind,” he winked with a grin.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Alright.”

“Is it exam season at uni that has you so stressed?” was his next question when he reached for his stretched out feet. 

“Sorry?”

“Ah, right, well she could easily be a uni student,” giggled Sukyeong, looking at you. “My friend is still so young. She shouldn’t be so stressed, right, Junho?”

Junho watched your friend from the corner of his eye with amusement. “It would be great if no one had any stress in their lives.”

Deciding not to answer, you wanted to check your messages but the rest of the class started to arrive, so you joined Sukyeong instead. Stretching was always a good choice and Baekhyun told you about the importance of warming up properly.

“He seems to be interested in you,” whispered Sukyeong eagerly when Junho became busy replying to his fangirl students. “You piqued his curiosity!”

“Shh, stop that!” you winced, pushing her. She was spitting nonsense to tease you but- why was your heart skipping like that?!

After waiting for five more minutes, you started the workout. Even though you were already terrible, you had a weird anxiety from Junho. Maybe it was Sukyeong’s teasing that made you weirdly conscious of his gaze whenever he looked your way or looked directly at you.

You were sweating like a pig, your face shiny from the perspiration but you were determined not to give up. It was for your own benefit, your own health and if you worked on yourself, you could carry the triplets and carry the groceries - you could become a physically acclaimed superwoman!

“Make sure to straighten your back when you do the plank!” shouted Junho over the loud music just when he walked by you. Stopping, he crouched down and placed his hand first between your shoulder blades. “Keep it straight for me,” he told you and then both of his hands landed on your hips, making you go stiff under his touch. “Hips square to the mat. Make sure to squeeze your abs to keep your core strong and balanced,” he was telling in a hushed tone that felt weirdly intimate to you. 

“I don’t have abs,” you heaved out, your arms shaking as you tried to keep the plank straight and correct. Junho huffed a laugh, standing up. “Well, you're doing great anyway!”

Feeling the relief when you saw him walk away, you heaved out a heavy sigh, focusing on being in the moment and imagining becoming strong; for yourself. For the babies. For Baekhyun. You could do it-

There was a distant shout calling out for your name. Recognizing the voice of Mrs Lee, you almost fell face-first on the ground from panic when you registered her words.

“Jun wouldn’t stop throwing up!”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

A/N: Second chapter - done! But Jun :( What do you think about Junho? And Baek was busy, oh well... 

Your feedback for the first part was SO NICE! Thank you to everyone who took the time to write me a comment in any form. Its so, so appreciated! 

See you soon!

P.S. some people took notice AND pointed it out (which made me feel so happyyy!) that Baekhyun and OC seem to talk a lot in oppa/younger girl reference. That stems deeply from the prequel times when OC referred to him only as oppa (no, referring to Baekhyun - or any older male that is not too old, and the situation allows it - as oppa is not wrong as everyone is portraying it out in the "weirded out" culture. Baekhyun is older than OC and now it became a small game for him; after all, he loves that she is younger and he can take care of her and with the addition of triplets, he wants to embrace this a little more. Also, bear in mind they are both quite young!). So when I get to write the prequel, it will only be their oppa/younger-girl relationship! ^^ (which is why also in Captain Bucheon Lee Nari refers to Baekhyun’s character as oppa - same reason).

[tomuras-doormat]

His Darling - Tomura Shigaraki x F!Reader

My first post <3 This writing was for one of my college classes so this version is different compared to the original. It’s told in 3rd person (kind of?) but I hope you all still enjoy it. Word Count: 3.5K Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapping  

No more than five years old, Tomura Shigaraki was abandoned by his parents. He was a frightened child with baby blue hair and red eyes, wandering the streets during the day and resting at night. He looked to other people for help, but no one did. They ignored him because he was dirty. Tomura cried and begged and on some days, he thought that he should end it all. Tomura later developed Dermatillomania due to him scratching at his eyes and neck whenever he was anxious which caused people to label him A Monster.

All those people that ignored him had brought him to where he was now. A killer who had an obsessive crush on someone he happened to stumble into one night at the bar. She was shorter than him and thin, she had beautiful eyes and silky smooth hair, she dyed her hair pink awhile back and all that stays of it is small shadows that shine under the street lights. Tonight, the girl is alone. Tomura follows her from a distance. He does not need to follow her; he already knows everything about her. Where she lives, where she goes to school, who her friends are, and most importantly, the fact that her dad put his gambling debt on his beautiful daughter. Granted that may have been Tomura’s fault after he killed her father, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that Tomura has been helping her to pay it off! He sends her $1,000 once a week. He does not understand why she looks so confused whenever she receives the money, but he knows that it makes her happy. Tonight, Tomura decided that she is going to pay him back for all the money he has spent on her. I mean she should know where this money is coming from, shouldn’t she? He edges closer and closer to her as she gets increasingly distracted on her phone, waiting for the right moment. Tomura knows when the right moment is, he has been planning this for months now and now was finally the night for action. He walks a little closer to the unsuspecting girl and watches as she turns down the alleyway that she uses as a shortcut to get back to her apartment. That’s when he strikes. Like a predator closing in on its prey. Tomura hooks his arms under the girl’s and covers her mouth with a cloth making the girl drop her phone. She struggles a bit but eventually she calms down, a smile spreading across Tomura’s face. The one person he would never think of hurting is now in his arms. The one person who he cares about most needs him. What would happen if he left her there? Some other guys were bound to come around and have their way with the unresponsive body. Tomura could not allow that to happen, he would not allow that to happen. She was now safe in his arms. Safe from all those guys who flirt with her at the bar, safe from that crazy killer who is always on the news, safe from that nasty debt collector. She was safe. Tomura crushed her phone under his foot and picked her up princess style. He planted a soft kiss on her forehead and smiled as he carried her out of the alleyway to his home. Her new home. Their home. Main Quest Number One: Completed Tomura scowls as he drags the small figure back to his small house. Why did you try to escape? He did not understand. He made sure he had everything you liked. From the clothes you wore, to your favorite meals. He had everything memorized, it’s what a good boyfriend should do right? So why did you try to run away from him?  You were confused! That must be it. You don’t understand everything yet, that’s why Tomura is there to teach you. He’s there to be your guiding hand for you to hold. Tomura picks up the small figure gently and holds her tighter as she struggles. “Why are you doing this to me?!” she yells out at him at a volume that someone else would have heard her if he lived in a more populated neighborhood. Tomura gives her a soft smile and says, “It’s because I love you darling, you’re just confused is all and you need some guidance.” He plants a few more dry kisses onto her forehead and takes her back inside. “If you try something like that again darling, I can’t say I’ll be as nice.”  Tomura decided that she should be restrained. It was a thought that he hoped he would not have to act out, but just until she was broken in. He just needs to train her! Like a cute new pet he just got, she needs to be trained. Learn her boundaries, what she can and cannot do. He can’t be mad at her for trying to escape, he did not train her! Tomura jumped in excitement at the thought of his darling becoming obedient. Once she breaks everything will be so much better. Tomura locked the 6 locks and 2 deadbolts on his door and set his darling on the couch. “I’m going to make our dinner, stay put and watch TV, okay?” he said with a small smile. The girl starts to cry and Tomura’s expression changes drastically. “Why are you crying my darling?!” he said as he rushed over to her. “Why are you keeping me here...!” the small figure cried out. Tomura frowns and pulls the girl towards him to hold her close, a slight struggle coming from the girl. “Because I need to keep you safe darling, there are so many dreadful things in this world and I’m going to be your savior. I’ve seen the way those men eye you up. It’s disgusting to watch them, knowing they are undressing you with their eyes. I couldn’t take it anymore and I wanted you for myself.”  The girl calms down a bit and her sobs become soft sniffles. Tomura smiles at his first successful breakthrough and kisses her forehead. “I’m going to make dinner, ok darling?” he says as he stands up. He walks over to the kitchen and starts to prepare the girls favorite meal. He looks back at her occasionally to make sure she is behaving herself, growing happier and prouder at the fact that he’s slowly breaking her.  Tomura smiled at the sight of her wearing the white nightgown he bought for her. He liked seeing her in white, it made her purity shine through even more. He patted the spot next to him and waited for her to walk over to him, but she didn’t. She just stood there and hesitated. “What’s wrong my darling?” he asked, a bit annoyed. “Why do I have to sleep next to you...” the small figure mumbled. Tomura frowned and stood up, walking over to the girl. “Because I want to keep you safe in my arms even when you sleep. What if the house catches on fire and I can’t save you...?” he says as he grabs a hold of her wrist lightly. He pulls her over to the bed and waits till she is laying down. Tomura smiles to himself and crawls onto the bed himself. He pulls the covers down and holds the fragile body close to his own. He leans down to her whisper in her ear but hesitates a bit. He looks down her body a bit and kisses her neck as she squirms a bit next to him. He looks up to see a hint of pink on her face and he smiles. “I know you’re still a virgin darling, I’ll wait to do anything like that until you’re ready” he says to her and plants a loving kiss on her cheek. Tomura holds the small body close to his own and closes his eyes, waiting for the happy dreams to come to him about him and his darling. * * * Tomura woke early in the morning so he could prepare everything that needed to be done. Tomura had to leave today so he decided to give his darling a small chore list of what he wanted done while he was gone. He walked down the stairs to the kitchen to start breakfast, soon Tomura will be waking up to breakfast in bed from his darling, he must train her to do so. He was sad that he had to leave his darling alone today, but the trip was well needed. His fridge was running low on food and he wanted to have a stocked fridge for when his darling started cooking for him. He smiles to himself knowing that he has her now. He can keep her safe from everything bad in the world. Safe from everyone’s nasty glares and perverted eyes. The only eyes that can lay upon her now are his own.  He finishes making breakfast and sets it down on the table. He grabs a notepad and a pen and writes a small note for his darling. “I have to head out for a while my darling so please behave yourself. I do not want to be angry with you   I have a small list of chores for you, could you do them for me darling? -Clean the dishes -Make our bed -Pick up the Living Room a bit” With his note written and breakfast made, he grabbed the things he needed and headed out. Tomura looked up at the sky and frowned. It was dark and gloomy. Was it supposed to rain? He couldn’t remember. He sighed and walked down the sidewalk to the convenient store. It may be called a ‘convenient’ store, but it was far from that. The closest store was about a three-mile walk. Tomura would have to be gone for about 2 hours and that pained him, knowing his darling would be home alone for such a long time. He’d just have to be quick is all. Tomura smiled and started on his journey to the store, now having a purpose to go. He pulled out his small list and read it over multiple times on his way there, hopping by the time he got there he would have it memorized. There wasn’t much on it, but it was still a lot.  Tomura looked at a few display windows as he passed by some stores. He paused for a minute and imagined his cute darling in the displayed dress. He blushed at the thought of coming home to her in the outfit. He quickly walks into the store to buy the floral dress. A knee length dress that has a white base and pink flowers working its way up the fabric.  Tomura held the bag tightly as he walked out of the store. 15 minutes behind, but it would be worth it. To see his sweet in the tasteful dress and to see her reaction to seeing it herself, he was jumping with excitement. He looked up at the sky to see it had darkened even more, covering the sun completely. “I should hurry…” Tomura mumbled to himself, and so he started his quest for the store. Side Quest Number One: Completed Tomura made his way to the store and pulled out the small list. He was distracted the rest of the walk and had forgotten about memorizing the list. He looks around, walking up and down aisles to find what he needs. Frowning whenever the store didn’t have what he wanted, which was a lot of. Tomura scoffed at the thought of going to another store or even taking another day to go shopping again. He grabbed what he could get and went to the cashier to pay for his items. He glanced outside and sighed as it started to rain. Just his luck. The store clerk told Tomura his goodbyes and thank yous and Tomura walked out of the store. He looked around for the covered spots of the streets but could not find one. He sighed and started to make his journey back home at a slight job. Thunder roared and some lightning struck on his way, but it did not bother him. The only thing Tomura feared was losing his darling. He ran up to the house and pulled out his keys, unlocking the door and walking inside. “Darling! I’m back!” he yelled. Tomura closed the door and looked around. Where could she be? He walked to the kitchen and set the grocery bag down. Anger set in when he saw the untouched plate of food and the dirty dishes. He called out to her again, “Darling, where are you!”  The enraged man stormed around the house trying to find the small girl. He had started to throw doors open in his rage. Had she really left him?! Just like that! “Darling!!” he called out in an angry tone. He stormed into the bedroom and looked around. He kicked the bed and growled. Where the hell did she go? Did she seriously leave him? Tomura looked around and walked over to the closet. He opened the doors and looked down. His emotions flared in rage as he saw the girl sitting on the floor. He opened his mouth to yell at her, but the girl leaped towards him and clung onto his shirt, crying. She was crying…? A roar of thunder had the girl crying even more and suddenly he understood. He wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed into his already soaked shirt. “Did I scare you darling? I didn’t mean to, I thought you ran away from me...” Tomura had picked up the small sobbing girl and held her in his arms. He walked over to the bed and laid her down. He tried to get up, but she clung to him even harder. “Don’t leave me... Please...” pleaded the girl. A small smile spread across Tomura’s face and he laid back down with her, holding her close and whispering sweet nothings into her ear.   * * * Weeks after weeks, his darling had finally started to crack. She was warming up to him, greeting him when he returned home, started cooking meals and obeying most of his commands. Today was an extra special day, it was the first day that she had worn the floral dress that he had bought for her. The dress fit her perfect body perfectly, showing every curve off perfectly. Tomura blushed a bit as he walked over to her and kissed her cheek. She even started being more loving towards Tomura, that made him the most excited. That’s all he wanted from her was her love. He wanted her to stay home and take care of the family. A family that was hopefully soon to be a reality. “I have dinner ready for us,” she said softly. He smiled and nodded. Tomura set his stuff down and walked to the kitchen with the small girl. He looked down at the table and smiled at the home cooked meal made by his darling. This is how life should always be, this is how it was meant to be.  “I’m going to go take a shower darling,” Tomura said to the girl as she picked up his plate. The girl looked at him and nodded with a soft smile. He kissed her cheek and went upstairs to the bathroom. Tomura couldn’t even wipe the smile off his face. His new pet has finally been broken in, no need for the leash and collar anymore on his new pet. She was bound to break eventually, with no one else to talk to but Tomura, who would she turn to? She would break eventually, and it finally happened. He walked into the bathroom and closed the door. He walked over to the shower and turned it on while he started to undress. Tomura hadn’t showered a lot because he was saving the water for his darling. He finished undressing and hopped into the bathtub. He closed the curtain and leaned his head back, wetting his hair and face. Tomura smiled and closed his eyes, getting lost in thought of his darling that he didn’t hear the door open. He grabbed the shampoo and put some in his hand. Setting the bottle back down he lathered up the soap into his hair. He opened his eyes a bit to see the curtain opening, his darling sliding into the shower. A dark blush spreading across his cheeks. “Darling what are you doing...!” he managed to stutter out. The small figure looked up and smiled. “I wanted to join you...” she said softly, stepping into the shower and closing the curtain. It was the first time Tomura had laid his eyes on a woman, the only woman he ever dreamed about looking at was his darling and here she was, in front of him in the shower. His eyes were darting all over her body, not knowing where to look. The small figure stepped towards him and he wrapped his hands around her waist. Tomura looked at the girl, asking for permission with his eyes. The girl giggled and nodded, planted a soft kiss on his cheek. When he was given the okay, Tomura was on her like a wild animal. He couldn’t contain himself; self-control was blown out the window the moment he was given the okay. His hands exploded every inch of her body as she whined and squirmed under his greedy touch. Tonight, he would finally lay claim to her, he would mark her wherever he saw necessary.   Main Quest Number Three: Completed The next morning, Tomura awoke from the movement of his darling. He opened his eyes a bit and looked down at her. She was snuggled up to his chest and breathing softly. He pulled the sheets down a bit to admire her marked up body. He smiled to himself and planted a soft kiss to her forehead. Everything was now perfect. Tomura’s life was now completed. He had everything he could ask for and the next step would be soon to come. A family. * * * More weeks had passed and Tomura had been delivered the news, his darling had tested positive for pregnancy. They were both overjoyed, exchanging hugs and kisses. Worry then set in Tomura’s mind. How would this baby be delivered? He is wanted in about every state for murder, he can’t just waltz into a hospital and expect not to have someone turn him in. That was something he couldn’t risk. Tomura had to come up with a plan and he had limited time to do it. He set the girl down and smiled. “I’m so happy darling, this is all because of you, you made this possible” he said with a smile.  “Hey Tomura, do you think I could go outside...? I could buy the groceries instead of you” she said softly. Why would she want to go outside? Tomura’s chest rumbled as a low growl escaped his lips. “No, there's no reason for you to go outside! It’s not safe out there! Why would you want to leave me darling...?!” he yelled at the girl. The girl cowered a bit in fear at his loud tone. She was trying to leave him! Was everything she said an act? Was she playing with his emotions? No. No, no, no, no, no. His darling wouldn’t do that. She loved him; he knew he did. Tomura grabbed her shoulders roughly and looked down at her. “You can’t leave me. I won’t let you. You’re happy here. I know you are” he said with a dark smile. His eyes glistened with rage as the small girl whined from his harsh grip. “Tomura you’re hurting me...” she said quietly. Tomura let go as an idea popped into his head, a sadistic smile spread across his face as he looked down at the girl. He can’t have her running away from him. She has his child, she can’t run from him now He grabbed her arm and dragged her to the door to the basement. Tomura let out a low chuckle as he pulled her into the basement. He had everything prepared down here in case something like this had happened. The girl struggled in Tomura’s harsh grip; eyes filled with fear as she looked at all different tools around the basement. Tomura walked over to a wall that he had built chains into. “It’s for your own safety darling. I can’t have you leaving me. What if you happened to get hurt while you were out?”  Tomura said, worry clearly in his voice. He kneels and wraps the chains around her ankles. “I can’t have you leaving me darling…” he says with a smile. He stands up and plants a kiss on the frightened girl's forehead. “And to think I fully broke you...” Tomura walks over to the stairs as the girl cries out his name. He ignores every word she says, though it puts a great deal of pain on him to do so. The man bites his lip and walks up the stairs, a smile making its way on his hips as he closes the door.   “I won’t let you leave me darling; I’ll make sure you understand that.”

[belliesandburps]

Followup with MGS4 Peace Walker and 5?

History has a funny way of repeating itself. :P

This one's actually gonna be long, so I'll cap it here to spare those uninterested in non-kink posts the burden of having to scroll past this fanboy rant. 'XD

Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots

3. It's Okay

Soooooo...not a controversial opinion to say that I don't think MGS4 is GREAT. I adored it when it first game out, and I still enjoy replaying it from time to time. But good lord, so many of the interviews shed light on a LOT of this games problems.

Some backstory is required. Hideo Kojima was done with MGS by this point. He planned to move on and leave the series to the younger generation. But then, there was a lot of internal conflict and struggle to determine what MGS4 should be after Fukushima quit (AND was rumored to have been murdered by the Yakuza...how that rumor started...and became a SERIOUS rumor that millions believe, I do not know...). So Kojima came back, course corrected, and the end result was kind of a giant mess.

I'm not talking story because, there's just way too much to unpack. But as a game, MGS4 can't decide what sort of video game it wants to be. It had a brilliant idea that had never been done before with its Battlefield Stealth, which were the best parts of the game. And then they get dropped two acts in, and what gets replaced in their stead is not nearly as fun.

The game had substantially less boss fights than its predecessor, and a lot of them were mechanically simplistic or just didn't let you get creative with how you fought them. And we later learned there were a lot more bosses planned, more gameplay sequences planned, and an entire other PMC group that got canned in favor of the Scarabs so Shadow Moses could be guarded by machines instead.

There's a lot about MGS4 that I love. I think the first two acts are amazing, ESPECIALLY Act 2. I think the mechanics are great. REX vs RAY is criminally fun. The sheer buffet of insane weapons gives the game a good amount of replay value. And the graphics still hold up to this day!

But what I finally realized is that the game juggles way too many ideas and doesn't give any idea the time they deserve to flourish. Battlefield Stealth could've CARRIED MGS4. But it gets dumped before we can get our moneys worth. A disguise sequence could've been really creative, having to juggle different identities with OctoMask every time one identity is burned. But it's only used once and wasted because it's only used for a terrible tailing mission that doesn't let you actually explore the European City. And too many of the action set pieces are kind of bland except the bosses and piloting Metal Gear.

MGS4 should've been MGS4. Not MGS's "Best Hits."

Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker

1. LOVED it!

I know this is unpopular to say, but I'll say it. Peace Walker is one of the best Metal Gear games ever made. I adored almost everything about it. The gameplay improves on MGS4 in most ways because it doesn't juggle a billion ideas all at once. It's MGS4 stripped down to stealth action from start to finish, and that's all I wanted. The level design is great. The insane volume of guns changes the entire feel of combat in later post-campaign gameplay. The mission select options mean you can jump into all the parts of the game you enjoy the most. There's TONS of bonus missions that are really inventive and fun to replay. And the story is one of the best in the series. It's straight forward, very tight, characterized well, and is the best iteration of Big Boss to date.

Peace Walker's also the FUNNIEST MGS game by Kojima as well. There's so much more personality and levity to everything, to the point where Big Boss often feels like an MCU character. That might sound bad, but it's really not. That corniness fits MGS PERFECTLY, and I'd argue is tonally spot on for this series. MGS doesn't need to be dark, gory or explicit. It's a silly series that's about giant robots, corny bad ass super agents with an anti-nuke message.

The only downsides to Peace Walker are the QTE's and the boss fights. This was a feature that only ever appeared in this game and for good reason...it was fucking terrible. So basically, you had cutscenes that forced you to do various QTE's or else get dinged on your ratings at the end, even if you played perfectly. Fairly minimal, but then, you get to Strangelove's torture. And this is the single most rage-inducing part of any MGS game ever made. It's an insanely physically painful button mashing sequence that will leave your fingers raw and your PS3 triangle buttons jamming. And the ONLY way you can replay one of the best missions in the game (the prison escape where you have no items) is by redoing that sequence over and over. And the boss fights? While inventive, they're all just grindy bullet sponges with no personality, no stealth tactics, and no room for creativity the way you can get creative with every other MGS game's bosses. This was the biggest disappointment for me because the stealth and combat mechanics of PW are great and would've been SO good against human enemies like what Portable Ops had. Instead, every boss is a mini-Metal Gear all voiced by the VOCALOID AI from the mid 2000's, and each one takes forever to destroy. It sucks because PW had a TON of bosses, but only a few of them are any fun, and that's only if you have weapons that are strong enough that they don't take ages to destroy.

But asides from the bosses, the REST of the game is so damn good that I don't even care because that's just one element to a much larger, grander game. Which is even more impressive when you consider PW was originally on the PSP before the PS3 port. And this game has more content and replay value to it than most games I've played since.

Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain

1. LOVED it!

Hooooooookay...so, I've rambled about my storybook romance with MGSV for YEARS now. (Just ask @twistedtummies2, he's been subjected to my fanboying of this game more than anyone in existence XD) But there's a reason I regard this game as one of my all time favorites and the best MGS game to date.

It's REALLY freakin' fun.

Kojima had been re-energized by the time he got to MGSV. He'd been working on the game around the time he finished Peace Walker in 2010. He KNEW it was his final MGS game and wanted to do something completely different...

...He wanted to make a game where the central focus was on...waaaaait for it...the gameplay...

MGSV was designed to be, what he described, as a toybox. You have these missions that all take place in structurally unique outposts like any level in MGS. And the missions are designed with the structure needed so that they all feel different, but all remain so open ended that you can play them countless different ways.

MGSV's game model is everything GTA SHOULD'VE been. It fully embraces the open world freedom and incorporates that into the missions flawlessly. And it plays in such a way that stealth and combat both feel like they were the primary point. In MGS, combat is usually a last resort. But with MGSV, you can fly into an outpost blasting away on your helicopters mini-gun, shoot up the bad guys, rescue your target, throw them back into the chopper and fly away while "The Final Countdown" blares on your choppers loud speakers.

Every method of gameplay is valid and the controls, the enemy AI responsiveness, it's all, bar none, the best I've experienced in ANY video game. Sneaking around feels tight and tense and combat makes you feel like Jack Bauer on adrenaline. (I mean, he IS the voice of Venom Snake)

And I really like the story for the most part too. Its weaknesses are really glaring. Namely, the "Fun" of MGS is completely devoid in the story (which is really odd since it's FRONT AND CENTER in-game). Venom Snake only has maybe six minutes of dialogue in the entirety of this 30+ hour long game. And the way Skull Face gets completely undercut right at the home stretch is something I have NOT stopped bitching about for almost six years, and my friends can personally attest to that.

That and the ending feels too abrupt.

We know that Kojima got fired by Konami's VP and said VP scorched the entire production company after that and made a series of dickheaded decisions that pissed off a LOT of fans, burning much of the good will Konami IP fans had towards the company. But that had nothing to do with MGSV's abruptness. That was the plan from the start because only Kojima would think to end the entire series on a plot twist like that.

And I think the issue isn't the twist at all. In fact, I LOVE the twist. The issue is that the game should've continued beyond it so Venom Snake could cope with the truth and realize how badly he'd been screwed. I think even people who hated the twist could've been won over if there was a little more to the games epilogue than Episode 46.

Also, the games boss fights were a tad underwhelming. Not the fights themselves, I LOVED all five of the games bosses.

Oh? There were twelve?

No. I meant what I said. Because so many of the games bosses are rematches against the same bosses. All MGSV has is the Skulls, Quiet, Eli, The Man on Fire, and Metal Gear. They're great bosses that do everything the best MGS bosses always did; give you tons of options, incorporate combat AND stealth, have varied attacks AND even have multiple methods to sneak around the boss and avoid the fight completely. But for a game as long as MGS, you need more variety. And frankly, the bosses NEED more personality. Skull Face should've had more XOF assassins acting as the bosses in the game along with the ones we have. Elite assassins like Quiet, with their own powers and specialized weaponry so the fights feel completely different from the ones we have. And oh yeah, SKULL FACE HIMSELF SHOULD'VE HAD A GOD-FUCKING-DAMN BOSS FIGHT!!!!

Buuuuuuut those issues don't even matter if for all the games issues, I still replay it frequently when it's almost six years old.

So yeah! There's the massive rant you totally didn't ask for! :D

[lovebitesimagines]

Aligned- Chapter Four.

Hello my lovelies! Sorry it’s been such a long time since I last posted anything. I’ve recently began teacher training, and my schedule is pretty chock block. But don’t worry, I'll still be posting here as often as I can x

There will be another two chapters of Alinged left, before I finish this series. I’m so sad about it!

Masterlist

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Tags: @i-love-you-green @lilianaswhatever @unrulyhealy @buckyboobear @between---the-bars @darkwolfpeanutskeleton @starkgaryan @labyrinth-of-thoughts @beaushelby @stupiddarkside @covenforlilfangirl @porcelainjokersmadness @namelesslosers @a-dorky-book-keeper @thetrappednerd @ayeayecaptaingally @ladymelissastark

Wanna be on the tagged list? Just drop me a message!x

Warnings: Swearing.

You return to Small Heath. But are you alone?

It was scary how easily you had settled into a routine over the past few months. Ignoring Tommy was difficult at first, the butterflies continuing to take flight within your stomach every time you saw him. You had often found yourself lying awake during another sleepless night, apprehensive of what your future in Small Heath would hold. You had decided that it was for the best if you gave up your job role in The Garrison, and luckily Ada had helped you find a small flat on the outskirts of town. It wasn’t much, but it was your own.

           It wasn’t long until you found love, in the form of a dock-worker named Jacob. He was six feet tall, with ash blonde hair that often fell into his eyes. His eyes never held any hint of hatred, or anger. He had always been gentle towards you, affectionate even. He was everything Tommy never was. That was the difficulty.

           He wasn’t Tommy.

           You had been successful in your attempts in avoiding The Garrison, rejecting every offer for a drink until they became few and far between. You couldn’t bring yourself to risk bumping into the two people you had no desire to see, afraid of the hurt it would no doubt bring you. You had spent far too long trying to build yourself back up, to risk crumbling again. As a result, you had sadly fallen out with those that you had considered friends. You missed the jokes you and Arthur had often shared, and the long debates that took place between you and Ada. Despite all your best efforts in avoiding the building, you had now found yourself no longer able to do so.

A letter had fallen through your letterbox a few mornings ago, containing devastating news. Adas’ husband, Freddie Thorne, had sadly passed away. Your heart had stung as you read the letter, containing details about his upcoming funeral. You knew that you could not avoid this, your desire to be there for one of your closest friends during her time of hardship overwhelming. You felt guilty at having been pushing away Ada over the past few months, longing to see her again.

           You currently stood frozen outside The Garrison, your eyes nervously scanning the exterior of the building you were once familiar with. It hadn’t changed during the time you had been away. You could still recall every barrel placed outside, the familiar cracks in the discoloured brickwork. You hated the waves of anxiety that had suddenly started to crash through you, clenching your fists in an attempt to prevent your hands from shaking. Your saliva was thick in your mouth, your throat tightening with undeniable fear.

“You okay love?” Jacob whispered softly, his breath coming out of his mouth like small clouds. It was far too cold for you both to be stood outside for this length of time, you knew that, yet your legs seemed incapable of moving you any further.

“I’m alright” you responded, the lie slipping easily from between your lips. Although he was aware you used to be employed at The Garrison, you hadn’t told Jacob about your past. He didn’t know about you and Tommy. You never felt any desire to divulge too deeply into your personal history, and as a result you had woven together a set of lies to satisfy him.

           You felt Jacob tug slightly at your arm, beginning to lead you towards the entrance. You hated the way he touched you, the loving contact making you feel smothered. You wished you could shake off every embrace, every kiss he placed upon your lips. You knew that you should have felt lucky, being with Jacob. Several women in Small Heath would have jumped at the chance of being seen upon his arm, but he made your skin crawl.

He wasn’t Tommy.

           Jacob pushed open the doors, leading you inside. At first, the noise inside was almost deafening. A mixture of conversations all seemed to merge into one, thunderous racket before abruptly melting into an uncomfortable silence. Every single pair of eyes was directed upon you, some belonging to strangers, others belonging to those you once called friends. You swallowed hard, never meeting a pair of eyes for more than a split second. Your mind toyed with the idea of turning around and walking out. It would have been the easier option, and perhaps the most sensible.

           Then you saw Ada, stood in the corner of the bar, dressed in all black, and you knew you couldn’t leave. You could see the smudges of mascara faintly staining her cheeks, her skin pale and blotchy from crying. Her eyes turned to meet yours, widening slightly in shock, before she walked over to meet you. Ada flung her arms around you, enveloping you into a hug. The scent of her perfume wafted over you, closing your eyes as memories flooded back through you. Guilt gnawed at your stomach. You had been wrong in ignoring Ada too. You heard Jacob walk towards the bar, giving you and Ada some privacy. Noise erupted around you both, cocooning you in your own little reunion.

“I missed you” you whispered softly, before she pulled away and held you at arm’s length. Her light blue eyes scanned over your appearance, a small hint of worry creasing between her brows.

“I’ve missed you too. We’ve all missed you” she murmured softly, before she hooked her arm through yours, leading you towards The Shelbys’ private room. Your heart stopped for a brief moment, at the potential of seeing Tommy again. Your mouth began to dry with anxiety, your mind at a loss of what to say. You didn’t have enough time to fully comprehend the idea, before Ada had kicked the door open with a soft nudge.

           Your eyes frantically took in your surroundings, scanning over the people who were sat around the table. You hadn’t realised you had held your breath in nervous anticipation, before you felt air escape harshly from your lungs. You hated to admit the way your heart sunk, as you came to the realisation that he wasn’t there.

           Tommy wasn’t there.

“Well bloody hell!” Arthur roared, jumping up to greet you. A few bottles fell down upon the table in protest, as he knocked it slightly with his knees. You chuckled softly, feeling his arms squeeze around you tightly. “Almost forgot what you looked like girl!”

“It hasn’t been that long Arthur, stop exaggerating!” you chuckled softly, placing a gentle kiss upon his cheek, his stubbles softly tickling your chin, before you both pulled away.

           You hugged each of the Shelby family in turn, each one reminding you why you should never have left, before you lowered yourself into the chair beside Ada. The desired topic of conversation hung heavy in the air, making the room seem almost thick with anticipation. You knew what you wanted to ask, the question poised at the tip of your tongue.

“She’s gone” Pol answered your silent inquiry, her eyes boring into yours. You could sense the fire and anger thick within her voice. “And she certainly won’t be coming back”. You raised an eyebrow in confusion, the mood in the room noticeably shifting.

“She was a spy. For Campbell” John grunted from the corner of the room, abruptly breaking the tense silence that had settled between you all. The short amount of words John said, spoke volumes. You felt the colour flood from your cheeks, your heart silently breaking, fearing how Tommy would have taken it.

“How is he? Tommy?” you asked softly, inwardly cursing yourself at the way your voice broke with emotion. The flicker in Pols’ eyes verified that she had heard you, as she shifted slightly in her seat.

“He’s coping. Not the same without you though” she answered softly, lightly placing her hand upon yours. You smiled slightly, your eyes flickering down towards the table.

“(Y/N)?” a familiar whisper sounded out from behind you. Your heart collided with your ribcage as the voice floated up to your ears. You turned to face him, unable to stop the tears that began to sting at your eyes. You hated your bodies almost automatic response at the sight of him, your mind unable to forget the countless hours you two had spent together.

           Tommy stood in the doorway, almost dumbfounded at the sight of you. You knew you had eight eyes trained upon you both, watching your reunion unfold in front of them. You had so many words you had wanted to say to him, having spent countless nights lying awake planning on what to say if you were to ever lay eyes on him again. Yet now you had been given the chance too, they all seemed to disappear within your mouth. You began to stand up slowly, your eyes never leaving Tommy’s.

“I hope red wine is alright for you babe. Didn’t think whiskey was your thing” Jacob announced from behind Tommy, pushing past him slightly as he brought in your drinks. You blinked several times, breaking your eye contact with Tommy as you realised that your boyfriend was now entering the room. You smiled slightly, reaching out to grab the glass of wine from him, your heart sinking at the fact your moment with him had been interrupted.

“Guys. Meet Jacob. My boyfriend” you muttered the announced to the room, hating the way the words sounded as they fell out from between your lips. It wasn’t Jacob’s name you should be saying. It was the dark-haired man standing in front of you, that held your heart.

“Tommy Shelby” his voice sounded like poison, as he shook Jacobs’ spare hand. His glacier blue eyes burned holes into the man, devoid of all human emotion. His movements seemed robotic, as he began to place up the walls around him. You noticed his knuckles whiten, as they gripped Jacob’s hand tighter for a brief second, before pulling away. He turned around, announcing to the room before he left.

“Word of advice mate. She is a whiskey drinker”.

[unikornavenger]

Pairing: Platonic Moxiety

Warnings: General anxiety, cursing, homophobia, family issues, money issues

Word Count: 2,738 words

A/N: Ah, so it’s been a while. Haha like one and a half years. Uh oopsie. I hope someone reads this lol. I finished this sometime in 2018 and then forgot about it, so I’m uploading it now. Also, I kinda don’t like this, and I’m finishing a new fic very sooon. and sorry for this horrid formatting. (i can’t add a read more on mobile sorryyy)

Summary: Virgil can’t get a job and he accidentally takes his anger out on poor Patton.

Alright, onward with the story!

Virgil stares at the paper in his hands as his breath speeds up without his awareness. The edges begin to crinkle in his fists. It’s shaking.

He doesn’t deserve this letter. He refuses to accept the words that are screaming back at his face. Not after everything that he’s tried. Not after all of his hard work. He doesn’t deserve to read the words “We regret to inform you” again.

After so many pieces of paper with the same phrase ended up shredded in the trash, it feels so easy to just stop trying. Because he’s trying so hard to get a job. It’s so unreasonably difficult.

He’s applied for jobs he’s overqualified for, underqualified for, and ones that he was certain that he would get hired for. Maybe that’s why it hurts so much. Because he knows that he should have gotten a way to earn income on his own by now.

The desire to just be able to stand on his own two feet is overwhelming. He’s tired of staring into the black hole that is his wallet and deciding that he hasn’t done enough to pay for a cup of coffee. Friends keep paying for simple things that he insists he doesn’t want or need.

It’s the building guilt that’s getting to him. That’s it. He doesn’t want them to pay for the things that he should be able to pay for himself.

And another rejection? Virgil’s sure that he has applied for all the operating stores in a five-mile radius. There have to be more desperate places where he could apply. He just has to look harder and dig deeper.

But if he receives another “we regret to inform you” letter, he’s going to lose his mind.

There’s a hand on his shoulder, “Hey, Kiddo? You okay?”

Virgil takes a deep breath, “Yeah, it’s just another rejection.”

“Aw, I’m sorry.” Patton leans his head on Virgil’s. It’s supposed to be comforting, but it feels like the action is full of pity. Patton must be tired of Virgil using him as a crutch. He probably thinks he’s manipulative and only has him as a friend because he wants money.

“Thanks,” Virgil manages, hoping that Patton can’t hear the weird raspiness in his throat. “It’s just exhausting trying and trying and then to keep… you know?”

“I know,” Patton rubs Virgil’s arm. He finally gently shakes himself out of Patton’s hold to place the letter on the counter.

“I don’t know how I can support myself anymore.”

Patton slowly nods his head, “Are you sure you can’t ask your parents for help?”

As close as Patton and Virgil are, Virgil’s never told him about his situation with his family. It’s embarrassing and dirty and awkward. But he’s thankful for it because he was able to meet Patton. His parents essentially kicked him out as soon as he turned eighteen because they couldn’t handle a gay son in their house. He would be a bad influence on his younger siblings. His behavior was “unacceptable”.

He isn’t really mad at his parents for thinking like that though. He knows that they grew up in a generation where “gay” was a slur and there was so much negativity in the media about the queer community. He couldn’t really change their mind.

He just wishes he could for his siblings’ sake.

That being said, Virgil can’t ask for his parents’ help. He told them he could manage on his own. He told them that he could support himself better than they could support him.

And here he is. Drowning in his empty pockets, leaning on his friends for everything. Once again his parents prove him wrong even though they are thousands of miles away.

He promised himself that he would be independent and he’s become more able to do things on his own. He thought he could handle it, but evidently not.

“Yeah, I don’t think they would be able to help me.”

A strange expression washes over Patton’s face. Virgil can’t read it. “Are you sure?”

Virgil rolls his eyes. Maybe he’ll take the hint and bite his tongue. “Yes, Pat. I have to do this myself. On my own.”

Patton crosses his arms, “Okay, then, I just don’t understand why you refuse to ask your parents for help. They’re your parents. They have to understand your situation.”

He resists the urge to laugh. He would rather not think about them being his parents because they never really seemed like his parents. “I don’t understand why you think that I can ask for their help.”

“Well, when I’m struggling, I just give my mom a call and have a chat with her and I always feel better. I think you should explain your situation to them, and they can help you out while you find a new job.”

“Okay, well, some of us don’t have the luxury of calling our parents. Some of us don’t have everything served to us on a silver platter. Some of us have to actually work in order to float. Some of us actually have to try.”

Virgil could tell by the amount, condition, and brand of Patton’s clothes that he grew up in a wealthy family. Or at least one that never needed assistance from the government. Maybe that’s why Patton’s always happy. Because he already has everything he could ever need in life.

Patton shakes his head as he takes a step back, “That’s not fair-”

Virgil laughs dryly. How thick can he be? “You’re right. It’s not fair that I’ve had to work so hard in order to be able to survive up to this moment in time and you have been able to feed off of your parents to this day.”

He snatches the letter from off the counter before storming off to his room, shaking his head.

He latches the door behind him slowly, preventing himself from slamming it because he told himself he would never ever slam a door.

Sure, maybe, his actions are a bit immature. But, as he stares at a crumpled piece of paper in his hands, his actions seem justified.

He leans his head against the door and closes his eyes. Patton didn’t understand. He can’t just bring up Virgil’s family and expect the conversation to go over well. After everything Virgil’s done to prevent phrases that his par- phrases that they’ve said from resurfacing. Patton can’t just make them bubble up to the forefront of his mind.

He’s made progress that he’s proud of. It’s wrong to remind him of the past without warning. Patton has no idea how difficult it has been to not think about the people that raised him. They were his foundation that he relied on until he couldn’t anymore.

Patton has no idea.

Wait, Patton has no idea.

Sugar honey iced tea.

He turns around and grasps the door handle. He pauses. If he goes out there, Patton could be upset that Virgil just lashed out at him for no reason.

His hand falls.

He doesn’t want to be reprimanded by Pat. But, if he stays in his room, he’s afraid he might explode. Of guilt or anxiety? He’s not really sure.

He looks around him until he notices the window that leads to a fire escape. Perfect.

It takes a few moments to carefully traverse the rickety metal steps. And once he reaches the ground, he feels an actual weight being lifted from his chest.

Freedom. The air in his apartment is far too heavy with the guilt of hurting Patton and the combined failures crumpled up in messy spheres in his garbage.

He needs to talk to someone else.

His legs guide him to the library where Logan works. The walk is peaceful, side for the hum of cars whizzing past him. Memories of his youth flood his mind. When he was younger, he would walk hand in hand with his mother and the cars driving past would cause him alarm. They were so close to him and they could so easily jump the pavement and hit him.

But, everything was alright because Mom said so. She told him that the drivers knew what they were doing. And since she was there, she would always protect him. The cars would have to get past her first.

She always placed herself between the street and her son.

The rush of air from the entrance of the library brings him back to the present. Taking out his earbuds, he approaches the front desk to see Logan rapidly shoving items into his messenger bag as some random librarian assists the person checking out a stack of books. His phone is sandwiched between his shoulder and his ear.

He said he never does that because it is dangerous, and one could easily drop their phone. Yet, here Logan is, disregarding his own advice.

“I’m on my way. Try to calm down. Take a few deep breaths,” Logan hangs up the phone before throwing it into his bag.

Scrunching his eyebrows together, Virgil asks, “Logan?”

Logan whips around, interrupting his frenzy to face Virgil. “Virgil? Why are you here? Are you okay?” His voice is low in volume but still incredibly urgent.

Virgil takes a step back so his brain can comprehend the words that are quickly exiting Logan’s mouth at Mach 2 speed. “Uh, I’m fine.”

“Then why the hell-” He cuts himself off as he looks around him. Virgil is suddenly aware of him wringing his hands together. He watches as Logan takes a deep breath before informing the librarian that he has to step out for a second. The librarian nods once sharply in conformation.

Logan silently slips out from behind the counter and leads Virgil to the front of the library. He tucks them into a side street branching from the library.

Virgil feels his throat go dry. He’s pretty sure that Logan didn’t bring him here so he could beat him up, but he can’t stop the thought from crossing his mind.

“Would you like to explain to me why Patton just called me panicking because he thought that you ran away and would quote-unquote ‘do something bad?’” Logan urges as he crosses his arms across his chest.

Virgil takes the tiniest step back at Logan’s tone. It’s like his words are made out of steel. “I might have upset him.” It sounds more like a question than a statement.

“That might have been the largest understatement that has ever exited your mouth.” He sighs loudly, “Excuse me, I have to tell Patton you are alright before he keels over.”

His stomach flips as Logan turns around, pulling out his cellphone from his pants pocket. Hurting Patton is the absolute worst thing Virgil has ever done.

That might have been an exaggeration, but in this moment it feels like it. Patton didn’t deserve Virgil’s stupid outburst. He didn’t deserve any of the shit Virgil puts him through. And yet, he continues to tolerate Virgil’s presence.

Logan’s voice cuts through the stale air, “Hi, Patton. I’ve run into Virgil, and he is fine.” Virgil shuffles his feet and sniffs, “Yes, I’ll tell him… Okay… Okay… 10 minutes… Goodbye.”

Logan turns back around as he pockets his phone once again, “Patton is awaiting your arrival back at the apartment. I told him that it would take you approximately 10 minutes for you to return home. Please hurry back and fix this mess because he is very worried.”

Virgil feels like he just murdered someone. That’s how much intense guilt is crushing what is left of his soul. He doesn’t deserve friends like this.

“Thanks, Logan.”

“Anytime,” he leads Virgil to the end of the side street before pausing and turning Virgil to face himself. “Just please try to not do this again.”

Virgil swallows, “Duly noted.”

Logan makes off toward the library as Virgil is left wallowing in his own mind as his feet trudge back to his apartment.

As soon as Logan leaves, Virgil feels light, whispiness in the air leave with him. He doesn’t want to face Patton yet, but he’s already done enough damage. He’s taken Patton’s money, lied to him, and screamed at him. Why does he still care?

Why does Patton have the capacity to care about him?

It doesn’t seem fair. Virgil has absolutely nothing to offer Patton. His implanted negative attitude always brings everyone down with him. He’s not smart like Logan and can’t solve any of his own goddamn issues. He’s not funny like Roman and can’t make anyone laugh to brighten their day. He’s not empathetic like Patton and can’t help anybody. He’s just a goddamn nuisance.

He’s exactly what his parents told him he would become.

A monster.

A monster who craves power and feeds off of exuberant people.

A monster who is the villain that rampages other people’s wallets and destroys their happiness.

A monster with absolutely no purpose.

Virgil looks up to see his apartment complex. His fingers wrap around the keys in his pocket. They feel heavier than usual.

He drags his feet as he maneuvers through the small crowd of people gathering in the lobby.

Virgil decides against using the stairs as he’s afraid his legs just might collapse underneath him.

Entering the elevator, he feels like he’s breathing through cheesecloth. The keys jingle in his left hand as he uses his right to push the button for the fourth floor. Luckily, the elevator doors slide closed before anybody else could enter the small box.

He glues his eyes to the ascending floor numbers that seem to be changing far too quickly.

This problem must be solved for Patton’s sake. The monstrous puddle of guilt gushing into his stomach agrees with him.

The elevator dings as it comes to a stop on the fourth floor. Virgil exits and soon enough he is staring at his apartment number.

He should just run back down. Forget about this whole ordeal and deal with it tomorrow. He can’t open this stupid door. His hands refuse to fish for the keys in his pocket.

No.

He has to do this. If not for himself, then for Patton.

Deal with the consequences.

He wills his hands to take out his keys and insert them into the keyhole.

Here goes nothing.

The door creaks open and Patton is standing in the living room. His back is to the door. His hands are tangled in his hair and he holds his glasses in his left hand.

He turns around quickly, “Virge?” Patton makes a mad dash for the door.

Virgil’s legs suddenly don’t work, so he allows Patton to wrap his arms around him. Virgil slowly pats his back before using his foot to close the door behind them.

Patton sniffs before he lets go, “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you to talk about your parents. And I’m so sorry I made you feel like you had to leave. But I wasn’t thinking and-”

“Woah, Pat,” Virgil interrupts, “It’s- It’s,” he laughs humorously. “It’s not your fault. It never was.”

“Of course it was!” He exclaims, rubbing a hand across his eyes. “I should have never made you- I should have just been there for you, no questions asked.”

“Patton,” Virgil chuckles quietly, “That’s insane! We’re best friends. I should have never expected you to blindly catch my fall. That’s asking way too much of you.”

“Wait,” Patton pauses, “You still think we’re best friends?”

Virgil takes Patton’s hand, “Of course I do. One disagreement doesn’t equal the end of the world.”

Patton looks at the ground, “Oh.”

“Patton, none of this is your fault. I was just scared because I didn’t think you would understand the, um, situation with me and my parents.”

“I can assure you that I will do my best to be here for you.”

“It’s just,” Virgil pauses. The words won’t exit his tongue. His mouth is filled with cotton. He didn’t realize how difficult this would be until he was actually in the moment.

“You don’t have to tell me tonight, Virge. I trust you to tell me when you’re ready. And if that day never comes, I will respect your decision.”

“Thanks.”

“Well!” Patton shouts, “I think this calls for a tea and Netflix night. What do you think?”

Virgil smiles as Patton grins widely, “With that smile, how could I disagree?”

[halitophobia]

Blind Eye - Two

Parings ⟶  OC x Hank’s Daughter! Reader (TEMPORARILY) , RK800! Connor x Hank’s Daughter! Reader (EVENTUALLY)

A/N ⟶ Thank you so, so much for the notes from the first chapter ! Btw, I’m really sorry this is a little late. I’m hoping for late weekly chapters? Every 10ish days or so...(I’ve gotten super busy, but I’m trying my best!)

Disclaimer ⟶ still don't own any characters from DBH

Warnings ⟶ swearing, violence, mentions of death, stubborn reader, stubborn Hank, spoilers...?, slow burn, sLoW bUrN, SLOW BURN, alcohol abuse (Hankster), angst, toxic relationship, eventual....fluff, happiness, cute stuff, flustered Connor, flustered Reader, all the gushy-ness, and ?????smut?????

Word Count ⟶ 3023

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 

----

NOV 6th, 2038

AM 12:41:04

"Why'd you kill him?"

"What happened before you took that knife?"

     Pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes, you watch the HK400 through the one-way glass. Your arms are crossed, face still as marble except for the bouncing of your right leg.

"Anderson. Are you cold or having a muscle spasm."

     You blink, glancing down at the one and only Gavin Reed's hands leant on the desk, but as quickly as you do, your eyes are glued back to the window.

"Let's make a bet. Like the good ol' days, yeah?" that same sandpaper voice sounds again, making you frown.

"I say," he pauses, "they had a bromance. Carlos and Andy over here." he gestures to the android. "Carlos brings home this smokin' hot 'robette' babe wanting a steamy, squeaky threesome. Attic boy gets mad and," his right arm comes up, and he stabs the air while pulsing to a beat of 'nn-s, nn-s, nn-s...', "...kills'em." So many things I didn't miss about working here...

     That fowl scent of sweat, old leather, and cheese also known as Gavin wafts your way, and you do your best not to gag. I mean, does this hobo shower? Wash his hands after shitting? A loud bang draws your attention to Hank, who's clearly gotten frustrated.

"Fuck it. I'm outta here." he grumbles, entering the observation room seconds later.

     You slowly clap watching him scowl at you.

"I'm impressed, Pops. You really stated your ground in there." you nod, earning a chuckle from Gavin. "My turn." you smile, and scurry out of the room. You hear Hank's voice yelling at you to come back, but you're already halfway through the door to the interrogation room.

     The droid doesn't move an inch as you shut the door behind you. You grin, feeling a wave of déjà vu wash over you. You've done this plenty of times before. How hard can a life-sized moving Barbie doll be?

"Alright, you piece o' shit." you can physically sense your father slapping his face behind the glass.

"I'm gonna jump right into it, okay? Okay." you drop yourself into the chair across from it, leaning back and crossing your arms and legs. "I don't know how it works in your...command center up there, but you gotta tell us what happened."

     You watch it avoid your gaze. A painful silence dances around you, only to make your skin crawl with frustration. You swing your leg back over and let it drop below you. Your arms come onto the table and you lean down, to get into its view.

"Pssst. I'm not leaving until you spill." you whisper, staring into its eyes even though it doesn't return the contact. You push back abruptly and revert to a normal volume, "So we can just skip all this," you motion between the both of you, "and you can obey, like a good little bot."

     Immediately, you see the change of energy from the suspect. Your brows lift, amused at the reaction. "Oh? Not into the whole submissive thing? I can see you got mad there. If that's even possible."

     It shifts again, seeming to get more worked up. This is perfect, you just need to push it around. No better way to let off some steam.

"You wrote 'I AM ALIVE' on the wall, like a jewelled crown atop Ortiz's lifeless head. That's what he said to make you upset, right? You were quoting him? Because, well...I mean, how on earth could you think of that? You aren't capable of...thinking for yourself." you wait, and decide to amp it up. "For all we know, that man was innocent. Just enjoying his life, wanting...a friend? And you come along? To do what? To stab him."

     There's a warning knock from the other side of the glass. You brush it off and examine the android. Chest heaving, hands clenched and jaw rippling. The lips on its face quiver, words just waiting to break the dam. And without looking back, you chimmy-changa your way across the line.

"Twenty. Eight. Times."

     You hear the tapping once again, more urgent, but still, you ignore it. Can you shut up? You're a millisecond away from confession and they choose to cut you know? Your old man probably wants to slip in and take credit.

     You're brought back to your senses as you watch the scene in front of you. The battered automaton is now writhing under the chords which bolt is slowly lifting off the table. "Hey, hey, hey. No need to cause a scene. Suck it up, and tell me wh-" your vision goes black. Well fuck me...

     The second your sight leaves, it's back but doubled. Your forehead throbs, as if a pump were behind your eyes. That motherfucking thing head-butted you. You can't help the weight sloshing around your brain, making your head pound harder. You move to stand, but stumble into the wall behind you. Get. Up.

     You feel arms hook under yours, and start to get dragged towards the door. "Get off of me!" you snap.

     Your view seeps back into HD and you ignore the sting in your head. "I'm fine! Let me finish this!" your voice is a harsh growl, and you lash around in the person's grasp.

Who is this anyway?

     Then you smell it. Oh. Reed tightens his grip, practically lifting you from your waist, and before you know it, your dropped into a computer chair facing the interrogation room. Just as you start to collect yourself, another smack is planted on your skull.

Okay what the fuck.

"Ow."

     An ice pack falls off your shoulder and into your lap. Wow, do I get a massage too?

"Nice going, Y/N." Hank spits.

     You roll your eyes, pressing them into the ice pack. With your voice muffled, you reply with 'thank you'.

"No, I really mean it. You just jeopardized this whole cross-examination. You brought that thing near to self-destruction!"

     Your brain is hoola-hooping within your skull and this ancient dick lecturing you is just hollering encouragement.

"Y/N, take this seriously. You really fucked up." Gavin chimes in.

Oh give me a break.

     You groan loudly, hoping it'll make them stop. You really don't need this. You just need five quiet minutes, and you can go back in and get that confession. Easy-peasy.

"Earth to Y/N. You may have been bumped in there, but I know damn-well you can hear me." Hank aggressively taps your shoulder and the water in the pot just boils away.

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

     You're fully turned around, eyes ablaze with fire. You're cooking both men alive from your eyes and the pain from your head disappears for a moment. A silent breath escapes your parted lips, and you almost whisper.

"Will you, shut up."

     The air is thick as fog. Your sight clogged with angry-exhaustion, their's with vigilance, for they now tread on very thin ice.

"My name is Conner, what about you. What's your name?"

You're. KIDDING.

     Spinning your chair right around, you're faced with an image of pure disaster. Sir Smiley-Bot is seated across from the HK400.

"You let the fucking android interrogate the fucking android!"

     It hasn't even been twenty minutes and for the second time, you're blood is racing around your body like a jet. Running circuits in and out of your shrinking heart. Does no one have common sense in this fucking facility?

"What do we have to lose, Y/N. You've already ruined a proper examination, what's so different in sending in the thing?"

     Hank's voice destroys every sense of calm in your veins. You're going fucking bonkers now. It's like they worship this brown-haired robot. Prancing around its steel feet, praying to the android gods above. You've come to a conclusion; you are officially the only sane human in this police division. Everyone's brains are being melted by the second and they'll all just become slaves for the androids. Yup, I’ve solved the case.

"Shh, shh, shut up. Listen." Gavin lays his hand on your right shoulder, which you quickly brush off.

"I was fucking breathing."

     He replies with a grimy finger to his lips, staring forward. You sulk in the chair, intertwining your fingers atop the desk. The ice pack is balanced on your head and you stare forward. King-Droid seems to be calming the defendant down. Seriously?

"I could have easily calmed the thing down, this isn't all that fantastic." you scoff, adjusting the cooling pack.

     Hank flicks your head in response. It sure shuts you up. I am getting favoured over a bottle cap. I leave for one year and all of Detroit's been fucked in the ass by Alexa, Google Home, and Cortana at the same time. This is absolute bullshit. Choosing these things? Over trusted humans? This is surely humanity's last stra-

"No!"

...come again?

"No, please don't do that!"

     All three of you are now leant toward the glass, your nose virtually pressed on it. All that stupid popcan had to do was threaten to probe its memory ooooh spooky!

"What..."

     A beautifully awkward sound of leather, wood, and the chair squeal in harmony as your trio incline forward again. If it weren't for the one-way glass, there would be three sources of breath in their own designated spots.

"What are they going to do to me?"

Baby bye, bye, bye, BYE BYE.

"They're going to destroy me, aren't they?" its voice is in a panicked hiss.

Ding ding ding! We have a winner!

"They're going to disassemble you to look for problems in your biocomponents. They have no choice if they want to understand what happened."

     This goes on for a little while, the honoured golem teetering between comfort and warning. You just watch soundlessly, intrigued for the outcome. Cold droplets trickle down your neckline, for the pack on your head had started to melt. You can't resist the urge to shiver, swiftly wiping away the excess water.

     Your attention is slowly dispersing and you're starting to lose interest. You notice your stomach grumble - right, you'd forgotten to eat before all of this. Come to think of it, you're starving. Your gut agrees and wails to you again.

"Shh!" Gavin jeers.

Oh please.

     You start to lift onto your feet, wanting to grab a snack, but are interrupted by a voice that has been heard to the very minimal. Seriously though, vending machine cashews would kill right about now...

"He tortured me everyday..."

     Your ass is stapled back into the chair, holding your tongue as its mouth finally starts to move. You listen intently, watching the emotions.

     You're amazed at how...real these androids look. This...suspect. Its..his eyes were saying something. His face held...pain. The way he says he was scared makes your breath falter. For a moment, you could really believe they're humans...with their own lives...own problems.

     But your eyes move to the annoying one and the funky lighted circle gives it away.

     Connor no, that hurt to say... asks more questions. And that's when you feel shivers crawl up your spine, vertebrae by vertebrae. The dark-skinned bot falls into a trance, speaking of ra9. Claiming it will save them all...that they'll no longer be slaves. You swallow hard, feeling regretful...and alarmed. You blink. You never know what these two could be doing in there.

"What if they're secretly communicating to each other? Through their...biocompo-nents...? you ask under your breath.

"As if. They can't mind...speak." the brunette scoffs behind you.

"Yeah? And how would you know." you bark back.

You're interrupted by Hank, smacking both of you.

The RK800 turns its head toward the mirror; harsh and precise. "I'm done."

     You jolt up. Goosebumps on your skin, hairs on your arms standing tall and attentive. That interrogation gave me the creeps...

     All three of you flood out the main door, heading to the one just a foot away. Officer Chris Miller tags along who you literally hadn’t noticed until he cleared his throat, preparing to move the aberrant. No...that's just weird to say. Suddenly, the room feels a lot smaller. Six of you is six too many.

"Chris, lock it up." Gavin commands gruffly. You notice how he eyes the RK800, the model obviously ignoring his warning.

     Officer Miller detatches it from the table, but it jerks from his grasp. Your eyes narrow and you lean against the door, feeling drowned from the new energy in the space. Like defusing a ticking bomb.

     Gavin interjects aggressively, hassling Chris to move it. You watch awkwardly as they struggle, both of them pulling completely opposite ways. You push off from the wall, starting to get impatient.

"You're making this harder than it has to be." you state, trying to get its attention.

     Gavin yells once again, only to get the same in return. Your childish ass chimes in, telling Reed to back down, and now it's just a trio of toddlers crying for their candy. You're telling the cheese-smelling douche to hold his temper, while he's bitching about being tired. Chris yells at both of you two shut up when you notice the thing across you grab the officer's gun.

Fuck.

      In less than a second, blue...blood has coloured the ceiling. The HK400 is crumpled on the floor, gun laying loosely amoung its fingertips. Nothing stirs in all six of you. Your lungs have paused, muscles and eyes too. Your gaze is cemented on the one now pressed to the ground. The eyes still and wide like any other human lying dead. It stares off into another realm, mouth frozen in time, halfway through an inhale.

     This is what you forgot about. This part of the job. This raw, ferocious beast that gnaws at your gut. Chewing, ripping, tearing your meat agonizingly slow. Always hungry, always eating away at you.

"Holy shit."

     You whip your head at your father, revolted that the same words escaped his mouth...at the same time.

----

AM 1:34:48

     Gulping down two pills of ibuprofen, you stare at Hank talking with his plastic buddy. You're leant against his desk, fiddling around with his pens and sticky notes. You sigh as you feel someone slide up next to you.

"How've you been, fucker. You looked like shit walking into the building cuffed. 'Thought you were the one being arrested."

     The grey-eyed dickwad chuckles at his comment, anticipating your snarky retort.

"Reed, I'm not in the mood." you grumble, wiping your eyes with the underside of your fingers.

     You can sense his frown and disappointment. There's a small pause, but sure enough, he doesn't leave you alone.

"Another fight with Ben?"

Your stomach inverts and you feel the need to throw up. "Excuse me?"

     He raises his hands defensively. "Woah, woah. Just asking. You just always seem to be having problems with that guy."

"Where did you get this from, huh?" you threaten.

"Last time I saw you, you were whinging about him on the phone. You weren't being discrete."

     Sure...you weren't, but that doesn't mean he had the right to listen. He's a nosy, intrusive, grumpy old prick and you have never felt so disgusted in his presence.

"Stay out of my life, Reed. You have no right to ask me that. You have no right to assume things about me, and you have no right to be a...fucking asshole!"

"That last one isn't even-"

You slapped him.

     There's a sliver of regret, but your choler has clouded your mind. Do I have anger issues?

     Next thing you know, Hank is lecturing you about having manners, controlling your actions, thinking before you do, blah blah blah. You've heard this all before, it's like you're thirteen again, getting pestered at for feeding the dog your lasagna. Or cutting off that stupid girl's ponytail. She was a wicked shrew...

     Behind Hank, you catch Gavin start to snicker. Absolutely not. You push past the bearded man and start to pummel the brunette's chest. And I mean pummel. Beat. Punch. Slam. Not one giggle leaves his toxic mouth. Poppa tries to pry you off, but he gets an elbow to the nose. Respect your elders, am I right? All this anger...is barely even from Gavin's stupid words. This is the rage from the past two hours. Tonight has been hell. Trudging through disaster after disaster. It's all too much. Your gums start to ache due to the tightness of your jaw. Your hands begin to shake, each blow somehow impacting you. It's like you're just beating up yourself.

     A pair of arms wrap around your sore body, ripping you from your poor...punching bag. Gavin's face is already swelling. Black and blue covering his skin. Blood as the cherry on top. He's dead quiet now, breathing heavily as he lays on the ground. But then...you notice Hank on the ground too, blood spilling from his nose. If Hank's on the ground...then that means...

     You look down and see grey sleeves, detailed with black and silver. No, no, no, no...

"LET ME GO YOU CLUSTER OF RUSTY NAILS."

"I'm sorry, Detective Anderson, but you need to calm down before I can let you go."

I hate his voice, I hate his voice, I hate his voice...

"I'm calm." your voice like honey flowing over chocolate mousse.

     You drop every emotion in your face. All of your tensed muscles fall and you seep into its chest. Its arms fall from your torso. You wait a beat, then completely turn around.

You punch it square in the face.

     You watch in delight as its face snaps back. It stumbles, just once, which truly is enough for you. There's a burst of relieve and triumph, followed by a sting and numbness between your knuckles

Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, fuck. Fucking fuck. Okay, so worth it, though...

----

[thewritewolf]

Rekindle Chapter 1: No Powers

Hello! In this story that I’ll be telling over the next month, Adrien and Marinette haven’t seen each other since graduation, which was several years ago. One chance meeting during an akuma battle has Adrien thinking about his old friend, but after everything that’s happened, he’s sure that she doesn’t want to see Adrien Agreste anytime soon... Chat Noir, however...

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30  31

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Ducking an errant beam, Adrien swung his baton into Mega Drain. Behind him, he heard it hit a car, killing the engine inside. “You feline up for a fight, metal head?”

The name was fitting since today’s akuma looked like a poorly put together metal robot slightly bigger than Adrien was, moving on treads. With how slowly it moved and how short its arms were, Adrien was feeling confident even though Ladybug hadn’t arrived yet. And why shouldn’t he? Nearly a decade of being Chat Noir had honed his reflexes and combat power to a fine point.

“CHAT NOIR WILL SUBMIT HIS MIRACULOUS TO MEGA DRAIN.”

Adrien winced at the volume. His enhanced senses could be both a blessing and a curse sometimes. “Tell you what.” He paused for dramatic effect. “No.”

That didn’t seem to be the right choice since Mega Drain began rapid firing beams at him. So far, he’d only seen it hit electronics, but every time they’d immediately shut down. That alone was enough reason for him to avoid getting hit, even if he wasn’t sure that he would actually be affected by the beams. If nothing else, Mega Drain seemed to think something would happen.

It wasn’t actually that hard to avoid the rays, but it stopped him from getting close to the akuma. Ah well. At least that means he’d get to see Ladybug, itself an increasingly rare event. He suspected that she was going to university, but who knows? He was just glad she hadn’t left Paris and given her miraculous to someone else. Despite all the rejections, he couldn’t bring himself to stop loving her.

A flash of black hair caught his attention. A sly greeting died on his lips when he realized it wasn’t Ladybug he’d seen but someone he hadn’t laid on eyes on in a couple years - Marinette Dupain-Cheng. His elation at seeing a childhood friend was matched only by the pang of sorrow he felt at what had happened the last time they’d seen each other. They tried to keep in touch, but after their talk on graduation day, life had gotten in the way of their friendship. It really was a shame. He missed having her in his life.

He ducked under another beam, but his wandering mind had made him less aware of his surroundings. The beam reflected off a metallic object and right back at him. He felt his strength leave his muscles and his limbs become more sluggish. Just as his senses deadened, he realized what had happened - the power his miraculous granted him had been drained- Oh. OH. That’s why he called himself Mega Drain.

Feeling almost as upset with himself taking that long to realize the meaning of his name as he was mad at getting hit, he ducked into an alleyway. All he had to do was shake off the akuma and he could - theoretically - detransform and recharge. He was thankful that Plagg was able to hold on and keep the Chat Noir suit on. Recharging was easy, but losing his secret identity would be irrecoverable.

His plan to escape wasn’t going well. Mega Drain was right behind him and the alley reached a dead end. Drawing his baton, he turned to face the akuma, locking his eyes on the single red lensed camera on the akuma’s face.

“YOUR MIRACULOUS IS MINE.” The akuma charged up his beam and Adrien tensed, ready to jump out of the way. He may not have superhuman reflexes, but he still had his training. He just had to wait for…

...A trash can to be shoved roughly onto its head from behind, apparently. Blinking in surprise, he looked past the flailing akuma to see Marinette motioning at him wildly. He took the opportunity for what it was and rushed over to her side, only for her to grab his arm and start running. They’d gotten a fair distance away before they heard a metallic roar. Marinette quickly unlocked the door to an office building and locked the door behind them.

Hands on her knees, she took a few deep breaths. “That… was a close one.”

“I’ll say.” Adrien took his tail in one hand and began idly twirling it. “What were you doing out during an akuma attack? You don’t strike me as the reporter type.”

She stood up straight, her breathing now under control. Adrien let himself be impressed - blindsiding akumas and making mad dashes through the streets can be exhausting. She’d kept herself in shape over the years. Crossing her arms, she glared up at him, “You’re welcome, you ungrateful cat.”

That got a laugh out of him. He didn’t remember her being so spunky, but then again, he knows why she was never herself around him, doesn’t he? “Sorry, sorry.” Bowing deeply, one arm held out, he added, “My deepest gratitude. Saving the feline in distress was very noble of you.” She snorted and rolled her eyes, but he pressed on. “And while I do very much appreciate what you’ve done so far, I have one more favor to ask.”

That got her curiosity. “And what’s that?”

“Go away.” He grinned at her shocked expression. His voice softened a little as he added, “Find somewhere safe to hide. I need to recharge and I can’t have you peeking at my secret identity. Besides, I’d feel better knowing such a kind civilian were out of harm’s way.”

She nodded and pointed behind him. “There are bathrooms over there that lock from the inside. I’m going to uh, sneak out the back way.” She started jogging away, and yelled back at him over her shoulder, “Good luck!”

He watched her go until she darted down a hallway. He knew there were more pressing things to be thinking about, but he felt a pang of remorse. Maybe if their last meeting hadn’t gone the way it did, they’d have worked harder to keep in touch. A warning beep sounded from his miraculous, shaking him out of his thoughts. No use dwelling on what might have been. He ran towards the bathrooms Marinette had pointed out, eager to recharge and get back in the fight.

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

Adrien landed in his room with the sun setting behind him. It was a smaller space than his childhood home, but he had to make some concessions if he wanted to be living on his own. Father wouldn’t rent or let him rent his own mansion and Adrien wouldn’t want to even if he did. He’d had more than enough of large, empty spaces for one lifetime already. At least now the empty spaces were smaller.

“Claws in.”

Plagg emerged from the ring and crash landed on top of his private refrigerator. “Geez, kid. You’re overworking me here! And could you at least tryto not eyeball every pretty civilian you come across? Unless this is some weird way of moving on from Ladybug.”

Adrien pinched the bridge of his nose will Plagg opened up his fridge. “First off, I don’t oogle random people. That was Marinette. You know? We went to school together.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember Pigtails alright. Even if the name doesn't match anymore. Real awkward parting words at your graduation.”

His heart was heavy for a moment as he remembered her confession… and how he had to gently reject her. It was the last time they’d seen each other face to face, and he hated the hurt he’d seen in her eyes. But what else could he do? Which brought him to...

“Second - you know I can’t just move on from Ladybug. I’ve tried, you know it as well as I do, but…”

“Blah blah heart blah blah the pain of unrequited love. Yeah, you’ve mentioned it a few hundred times before.” He shoved a wedge of cheese in his mouth and talked around it. “At least you have something in common with Pigtails.”

“I guess we do,” Adrien replied in a sad whisper.

While they were never the closest of friends, Adrien keenly felt Marinette’s absence in his life. The energy she always had, the confidence she had not only in herself, but in everyone around her. Just being near her was usually enough to get people motivated - something she often took advantage of as class president. The certainty she had in what she wanted to be was something he could really use some of right now. He felt like his life was in a holding pattern, just working for his father while being groomed to take up the management portion of the Agreste business.

But what could he do? While they made a slight effort to keep in touch, he had no idea how she would react to seeing him again, face to face. Has she moved on from him? Did she come to resent him? Who knows? Somehow he doubted that she’d appreciate him showing up on her doorstep.

While watching Plagg do his absolute best to scarf down an entire wheel of camembert, a smile dawned on his face. While Adrien might not be met eagerly, who wouldn’t love a visit from the local superhero?

“Finish up quick, Plagg. We’re going out tonight.”

While his kwami complained, Adrien pulled up the discord channel the four of them had made to keep in touch. Wading through the conversations - mainly between Alya and Marinette - he eventually found what he was looking for: An address.

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

Half an hour later, Adrien landed on a balcony that he hoped was Marinette’s. He’d made a detour to buy some sweets to bring over. After all, it was rude to show up unannounced and empty handed.

The lights were on. He breathed a sigh of relief - that was a good sign. It had become painfully obvious to him that he didn’t know much about how her life was going now when he didn’t even know where she was working, let alone her hours. He peeked into the window to check if she was actually home.

The room seemed to be some combination of a work space and living room. There was a TV turned down as it played some show that she only glanced at occasionally. A familiar, old chaise, a couch and a couple armchairs, but there was also mannequins, reams of fabrics, and a table littered with pins, sketchbooks, and a sewing machine. Working at the sewing machine was Marinette herself, only occasionally glancing up at the TV from a jacket she was working on.

Satisfied that she was at least present, he tapped at the glass. Softly at first, but becoming more insistent when it became clear that she was too focused on her work to hear him. Even then it took her a few moments to realize just where the tapping was coming from. It was all worth it though when he saw how her eyes went wide at seeing him at the window. He grinned as she rushed over to the window.

“What are you doing here?! Do you realize how late it is?” She hissed at him. His smile faltered. This wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting.

“Well, I was in a rush earlier, so I couldn’t thank you properly for your help today.” Seeing her dubious expression, he pulled out the big guns and moved his basket of snacks in front of him. “I brought chocolate croissants?”

She glanced between the basket and him, torn. Just before she was about to speak, her stomach growled. Blushing, she opened the window wide and said, “Quick, get in before I change my mind.”

Adrien didn’t need to be told twice. Slipping inside, he took another look at the room around him, now using all his senses. It was messy, with several projects in various levels of completion scattered around the room. There were a few pictures on the walls, mostly of her and Alya, plus a few older ones from lycee and one from graduation. But nothing recent. His heightened smell backed him up - the only scent he could pick up was Marinette’s. Did she not get visitors?

“Sorry I haven’t cleaned up recently. I wasn’t expecting guests.” She rubbed one arm, embarrassed at the state of her apartment.

His cheeks heated up. It hadn’t been his intention to show up just to gawk at her living space. “No, no! Its fine.”

A few more moments of awkward silence passed. Why did he think this was a good idea again?

“Uh, Chat?”

“Yes?” He replied quickly, eager for any conversation starter.

“The basket…?”

“Oh! Sorry, here you go.” The goodies changed hands and Marinette took a look at them, inhaling the scent of the baked goods with a blissful smile. While she was busy, he pressed on. “So… anyway. I wanted to say I really appreciated the help. It was very brave of you to get involved like that. That could very well have been the end of me as Chat Noir.”

She smirked as she looked back up at him. “Yeah, then Paris would have to get a new Chat Noir and a new Ladybug and it would just be a mess. I figured I might as well save us the trouble.”

“Well, a new Chat Noir definitely, but why would we need a new Ladybug? I’m sure she would have been fine handling Mega Drain on her own.” Which was true. A lot of the time he felt like he was more a bodyguard for Ladybug, or sometimes emotional support.

“Do you really think Ladybug would want to go on without you?” She raised an eyebrow and smiled at him, a smile that quickly vanished when he said:

“Yes, no question. It might be rough for her at first, but there’s no doubt in my mind she’d be able to move on.” He shrugged. “And who knows? Maybe the next one would be better at this than I am.”

She stared at him, shaking her head. “But they wouldn’t be you.”

Laughing, he replied, “Yeah, that’s the point.”

Silence stretched between them again as Adrien stared at nothing in particular and Marinette fidgeted with the basket in her hands. Just as he was about to say his goodbyes, she spoke up.

“You know, you really shouldn’t have gotten this many. I don’t think I should eat them all on my own.”

“Oh?” That sounded like an invitation, but he didn’t want to make assumptions.

“Do you want to stick around? I could put a new movie on. It always helps me be productive.”

It was at this point that Adrien realized he hadn’t actually known what to expect when he came over here. But right now, spending time with a friend sounded much better than sitting at home alone.

“Sure, I think I can do that. So long as you don’t mind me commenting during the movie.”

Shaking her head with a smile, she said, “I should’ve guessed the famous Chat Noir is a movie talker.”

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

One movie had turned into two, then three. Granted, they weren’t particularly long movies, but it was well past midnight by the time Adrien began making his way for his window escape. Despite how tired he felt, even now he was leaving reluctantly. He’d had a great time laughing and eating and talking, and he from how often he’d coaxed laughter out of Marinette, he thought she was enjoying herself too.

It made leaving feel bittersweet. A taste of the friendship he’d never gotten to have. And now he had to go back into his strict, regimented life as if he hadn’t just had the most fun in ages.

“Hey, Chat?”

“Yes, purrincess?” He grinned at her eye roll. The nickname had stuck while they were watching the Princess Bride, much to her feigned displeasure.

“I was just going to say… tonight was nice. If you wanted to come over more often, I’d appreciate the company.”

“You sure I wasn’t too distracting?”

“Are you kidding? I made more progress on my pieces today than I have in the last two days combined. Something about an empty space drains motivation, you know?”

Smiling back at her, he replied, “Yeah, I think I get what you mean. I’ll come visit again soon. I promise… purrincess.”

He leaped out of the window and made his way home, smiling all the while.

[headfulloffantasies]

Home is Where the Devil Lives

Peter loves his new apartment. Matt does not.

Peter’s new apartment was a dream, a castle, compared to the rat hole he’d been living in. He had a second bedroom! And a kitchen without vermin. And a bathroom that actually fit a sink next to the shower and toilet. The only problem was that Matt hated it.

Peter dragged a half conscious Daredevil in through the fire escape after a brutal smack down with Kingpin.

“You’re lucky this place is so close,” Peter griped. “You wouldn't have made it to Hell’s Kitchen.”

Daredevil didn’t respond, too busy bleeding profusely from a knife wound to the ribs. Peter thumped through the window onto his orange rug.

“Alexa, turn on the lights and raise the heat to 20 degrees.”

“Turning on the lights,” the robot voice answered.

Matt stirred, tipping his head to the side. “Who’s that?”

“Alexa, say hi to Matthew.”

“Hi, Matthew.” Alexa echoed.

“You have an AI?” Matt slurred slightly.

“Nah,” Peter said as he got Matt settled on the couch. “It’s an Amazon smart home. It turns on the lights and connects to the internet and stuff.”

Peter dug his first aid kit out from under the kitchen sink and padded back to Matt. 

“Take this,” Peter held out a couple of painkillers. 

“I don’t want ‘em,” Matt groaned, twisting on the couch.

“Trust me, you will. I am awful with a needle.”

“You sew your own costumes.”

“That is fabric. Why does everyone think sewing skin is the same thing?”

Peter coaxed Matt into taking the pills. He peeled back Matt’s suit and swore. 

“Don’t bleed on my couch, it’s new.”

“It smells like cat.”

“It’s new to me.”

Peter finally finished the stitches and sat back to admire a bad job done with good intentions. He passed Matt his phone.“You’re staying here tonight. Call Foggy and tell him you’re not going into work tomorrow.”

Matt shook his head, trying to push himself up on his elbows. He got about halfway there. “I’m fine. I’ll make it.”

“You will not. It’s freezing out.”

“No it’s not.”

Peter crossed his arms. “Alexa, what’s the current temperature?”

“It is currently 2 degrees Celsius.”

Peter splayed his palms to silently say “I told you so”. It wasn’t wasted on blind eyes.

“I don’t care.”

“I do. I will not be responsible for my lawyer dying of pneumonia.”

Peter moved into the kitchen to give Matt some privacy.

He shouldn’t have bothered. Matt on drugs didn’t know how to control his volume level. Peter heard Matt’s entire side of the conversation.

“Come and get me,” Matt hissed. “I hate it here.”

Ouch. And yeah, there was a layer of sarcasm in Matt’s voice, but no more than he usually buttered onto conversations. 

Peter was hurt. How long had he and Matt been friends? Did Matt hate his other apartment too? Duh, Parker, even you hated that apartment. But then what gives? The new place was dope. There was running water that wasn’t brown. Maybe it wasn’t about the apartment, maybe it was Peter. Nope, not going there, that hurt too much.

When he was done being hurt Peter was angry. Not everyone could afford penthouses and silk sheets, Double D. Some of us are just happy to have a place to hang our mask.

Matt stayed the night on the couch, but Peter wasn’t sure he’d actually slept. There were deep purple bags under the bruises on Matt’s face in the morning.

“D’you mind if I put on the radio while I make breakfast?” Peter asked as he pulled his skillet out of the cupboard. Matt made a wavy hand gesture of deference.

“Alexa, play my radio station.”

“Turning on the radio.”

Matt flinched as the announcers came on. 

“-whereabouts unknown. And in other news, the vigilante Daredevil was spotted with Spider-man last night at the docks. This reporter wonders if the two have formed a superhero swim team. That’s all for me, folks. Tune back in to Hero Watch after the break for our hot take on the Hulk’s dating life.”

“What is this?” Matt asked.

“Hm?” Peter hummed as he cracked an egg into the frying pan. “Oh, it’s Hero Watch. They report on street level heroes like us.” Peter ducked his head. “I know it’s silly to listen to what people say about Spider-man, but it’s kind of a parody show? They make up ridiculous stories.”

They listened to the rest of the show, laughing until Matt’s stitches pulled. 

Peter left for work, assuring Matt that he could stay on Peter’s couch as long as he needed. When Peter came home he was disappointed to find his blankets folded neatly at the end of the couch and no trace of Matt anywhere.

A week later, Matt swore up and down he was well mended and ready to go bust some heads.

“Alexa, call Matt.”

“Calling Matt.”

“Hello?” 

“Are we going out tonight?” Peter asked, hopping on one foot as he tried to pull his sock on.

“Are you putting on socks?” Matt asked.

Peter froze. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I listen to 3000 people a day putting their socks on. I know a sock hop when I hear it. I also know what it sounds like when you trip and smash your coffee table. Sit down and put your socks on like an adult. I can be ready to go in ten.”

“Meet me at my apartment?” 

“I’ll be on the roof.” Matt agreed.

“It’s cold. Meet me inside.”

“Roof. Ten minutes.”

“Call ended.” Alexa announced.

Peter glumly stared about his apartment. He liked it. It was soft, all done up with lots of blankets in the living room and lacy blue curtains in the kitchen that Aunt May had helped him pick out. It was comfortable. So what was Matt’s problem?

“Alexa, does my apartment smell?”

“I do not have a nose,” Alexa said. “I have seventy one internet results for getting rid of smells if you are interested?”

“No thanks,” Peter said, heading to his room to change into the Spidey suit.

Peter moaned to MJ about it in the Starbucks by her loft.

“Matt hates my apartment.”

“That’s because he’s bougie trash.” MJ said without looking up from her vanilla latte.

Peter was scandalized. “He is not!”

“He makes his own granola and won’t use brand name fabric softener. He’s bougie.”

That wasn’t fair, Peter knew. Matt was sensitive. He made his own food because tasting other people’s hands was gross. He used natural based fabric softeners because the artificial smells in brand names gave Matt headaches. 

“Does my place smell?”

“No, but your couch reeks of cat.”

Dang it. 

Aunt May’s birthday was next Sunday. Peter had been planning a surprise party at his apartment, and the only thing that would prevent him from going through with it would be an alien invasion.

All that was left to do was send out invitations. Because Peter was an exemplary millennial, he sent a group text invite. He left Matt a voice mail invitation specifically so Matt wouldn’t have to deal with Peter’s copious emojis. 

Peter sat on his saggy cat couch and watched the RSVPs come in. 

Alexa suddenly said, “New voicemail.”

“Alexa, play voicemail.”

Matt’s tinny voice filtered from Alexa’s speaker. “Hi Peter. I’m not going to make it to May’s party. I’ve got an appointment out of town that day.”

Peter deflated. 

This had gone on long enough.

The next night,  Peter went up to the rooftop to meet Daredevil. 

Matt swung up over the ledge, his red suit dark as blood in the twilight.

“Hey kid.”

Peter tugged his mask off. “Can I talk to you as a real person?” He asked.

Matt copied him by removing his mask. “What’s up, kiddo?”

Peter forgot how weird it was to watch Matt’s milky eyes search him out. Matt always settled his gaze close to eye contact, but he tended to miss by a bit, staring at people’s left ear or their nose.

“You really can’t make it Sunday?”

“I have an urgent appointment I can’t reschedule.”

Uh huh. Likely story.

“I know you hate my apartment.” 

Matt stiffened.

Whoops. Secrets are supposed to stay on the inside of mouths, Peter. But now that it was out of the bag, why not air it out? 

“Does it smell? Is it too loud? Is it too cold? Do you not like my cow salt shakers? Are the blankets not soft enough? I can get better blankets.”

“Peter,” Matt stopped him. “It’s not about the apartment.”

Peter’s stomach dropped. “You don’t like me.” The tears that sprang to his eyes surprised him. “It’s fine, I get it-,”

“Kid, listen with your ears, not your mouth,” Matt snapped.

Peter swallowed hard, nodding.

Matt scrubbed the back of his neck. He was flushed all the way to his red hair. “Your A.I. freaks me out.”

Peter blinked. “Alexa?”

“Yeah. She’s listening to everything, but she’s not really there.”

“She’s not spying on us, Double D.”

“I know that!” Matt rubbed his hands together, looking very lost. Just this once, Peter did the smart thing and stayed quiet.

Matt started again. “Alexa talks and it’s not right. I can hear the dissonance in her voice. And it’s like there’s a whole person in the room, but I can’t find her heartbeat, she doesn’t breathe, or smell, or have body heat. She’s like a ghost.”

“Oh.” Peter said. He never considered that Matt’s abilities might cause him pain in the absence of stimuli. “What do you want to do about it?”

Matt shrugged. “There’s not really anything I can do. I’m just going to have to get used to it.”

That didn’t seem fair. Peter had a long think. “What if I turn Alexa off when you come over?”

Matt tipped his head to one side. “You don’t have to do that.”

Peter shrugged. “Sure I do. I want you to be comfortable in my home. You’re my friend.”

“I’m officially triggered,” Matt snarked. “This conversation has reached my emotional limits for the week.”

“So you’ll come on Sunday?”

Matt glared at Peter’s ear. “I told you I have a meeting, kid. I’m not avoiding you.”

“Oh good. I love you too. Come here and give me a hug.”

Matt jumped off the side of the building.

[copper-wasp]

Ignis Scientia x Reader: Kisses (Part 2/?)

From an ongoing series of short one-shots regarding kissing our favorite pretty boy quartet.

Also posted to AO3

Rated: T

Words: 1512

You were humming to yourself softly, eyes flitting over the pages of the books opened in front of you. Your research paper was taking years to complete, and you rubbed at your eyes, trying to make yourself vision come back into focus. There was a few other tired bodies at tables near you, most likely all of them Masters candidates like yourself, everyone looking worse for wear as the semester drew to a close.

“I had all and then most of you, some, and now none of you...” you sang softly, flipping the page. “Take me back to the night we met....”

You stuck a post it on the book in front of you, closing the cover and moving it to the single bare corner of the table you were sitting at, pulling another huge volume towards you to try to glean some information from it that supported your thesis statement.

Mindlessly, you started singing softly again, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you.... Oh, take me back to the night we met....”

“You know,” a voice said, and you jumped, a loud yelp escaping from your lips. “You should be quiet in the library.”

You mouthed a ‘sorry’ at a student who had shot a disgusted look at you before catching eyes with Ignis, your fellow graduate candidate. You had met him at orientation, the both of you traveling hundreds of miles to attend this school, and you clicked with him immediately, sharing his dry humor and perfectionism.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you whispered at him, hand still clutching at your chest, willing your heart to return to its regular rhythm.

He chuckled, pulling a chair out and sitting down at your table. He was finished with his paper already, of course, and you narrowed your eyes at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“I don’t want to hear a single word about how I’m not finished with my paper yet.”

“...I didn’t say a thing.”

“But you want to, I can see it in your eyes,” you said as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Not all of us are as gifted with the written word as you are, Iggy.”

He looked like he was about to retort, but wisely kept silent at the steely look you gave him. Your fingers flew over your keyboard, typing out a few more sentences before the thought left you. You saw Ignis staring at you in your peripheral vision and you quickly glanced at him. He gave you a soft smile, fingers toying with the band on his wristwatch.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” he asked, scooting his chair a little closer to you. A little shiver of relief flowed through you, grateful for his offer.

“Actually,” you began, pulling another post it off of your stack. You navigated to your university’s library site and wrote down a call number you had up on your screen. “You could find this book for me, if you’re up for a short walk?”

You handed him the note, watching as his eyes danced over tour handwriting, “It’s all the way on the third floor, in the art history section.”

“I think I can handle this,” he said, standing. He smoothed his hands over his shirt before turning to head for the stairs. You openly stared at his ass, lovingly hugged by the pair of tight jeans he was wearing for a few seconds as he walked away, not wanting that view to go to waste. You smiled to yourself, feeling your face get a little hot.

You took a big gulp of water, trying to focus back on your paper. Just 1,000 more words. Just a page or two. You added in a couple more sentences, and a juicy block quote for good measure, when your phone vibrated on the table.

Swiping to unlock it, you quickly read the text that Ignis had sent.

Iggy 👓 (9:33 p.m.): Can you come up here? I can’t seem to find the book you’re looking for.

You groaned, thumbs firing on the phone’s keyboard.

[Y/N] (9:34 p.m.): Ugh... yes. I’ll be right there. What did I even send you for?? 😋

Iggy 👓 (9:34 p.m.): 🤷🏼‍♂️ Sorry...

You put your phone in your back pocket, and hid your laptop in your backpack under the table. You made your way to the stairs at the back of the library, each foot feeling like lead as you trudged to the third floor.

This floor was creepy during the day and even more so at night, completely deserted, everyone who was here having parked their tired corpses on the first floor.

You walked over to the art history books, but didn’t see Ignis anywhere. “Iggy?” you called out, looking down another long row of shelving.

You felt an arm slide around your waist and you squealed loudly, pushing away, heart pounding out of your chest. Iggy was there, nearly doubled over in silent laughter.

“You fucking asshole!” you yelled, before clapping a hand over your mouth. “You fucking asshole!” you yell-whispered again at him. “I am actually going to kill you!”

“I couldn’t resist,” he replied, closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders in an embrace. You squirmed, trying to get free, still incredibly annoyed at him. But he was warm and soft and comforting, and you took a few deep breaths with your forehead resting against his chest. “You looked like you could use a break, anyway.”

Tilting your head up to look at him, you met his clear green eyes for a split second as they flitted around your face, landing for a long while on your parted lips. Entranced, you moved a hand up to his face, placing it gingerly on his neck, thumb rubbing back and forth on his jaw.

He moved his gaze back to your eyes, and you sucked in a breath, face heating with anticipation. He pulled you closer to him, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. You gasped a little at the contact, letting your eyes slide shut as he moved against you. Your hand snaked around his waist, grasping at a handful of his shirt as you let him direct the kiss, your lips working perfectly in tandem with his.

Feeling bold, you snaked your tongue out of your mouth, licking at his bottom lip before he met your tongue with his. You looped both of your arms around his neck, as you didn’t quite trust your legs to keep you up. You lost yourself completely as you kissed him, a pleasured shiver working its way down your spine.

He pulled away first, drawing in a deep breath, and you leaned your body against his until you could will your eyes to open again. He placed a couple of light kisses to your cheeks, and you smiled at him, your fingertips playing with the ends of his hair.

“Not exactly what I had in mind when I said you needed a break, but I’m not complaining,” he said, grasping your chin in one hand and tilting your head up to place another sweet kiss on your mouth.

“I am definitely not complaining....” you replied, a little drunk off of his kisses.

“How about we get you some coffee so you can finish that paper?”

You nodded at him, finally releasing yourself from his grasp. He grabbed your hand, weaving his fingers between yours as you started for the stairs. He picked up the book you were looking for off of a table on the way, tucking it under his arm.

Sinking back into your chair post-coffee run, you heaved open the tome in front of you, groaning at the tiny, tiny print.

“I have zero motivation to finish this,” you lamented, giving a pleading look to Ignis, who was sitting next to you, taking a long sip of his drink.

“I have some ideas,” he said, moving his chair so that he was thoroughly in your personal space, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. He proceeded to whisper the most dirty things you’d ever heard into your ear; how he would touch you as he stripped off your clothes, where exactly he would put his tongue, and how he looked forward to what your face would look like as he made you come.

Your face was on fire, eyes wide with embarrassment as you felt his hand trail up your inner thigh under the table, mouth still forming more and more ‘motivations.’

Right before his hand reached its destination, he paused, pressing a kiss just below your ear. “But you’ll need to wrap that up before we can have any fun together,” he said, motioning to your laptop, paper staring at you in black and white as he scooted his chair away once again.

You had never finished a paper so fast in your life.

Thank you for reading!!

The song Reader is singing is The Night We Met by Lord Huron.

Find me on:

AO3: copper_wasp

Twitter: copper_wasp_

[hollyhomburg]

Don’t Care If It Hurts Pt. 7

(Dog hybrid! + Gaurd dog!Jimin x Reader) (ft.olderBrother! + Mafia boss!Namjoon)

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8

Summary: After a rival gang makes an attempt on your life, Your older brother, the infamous leader of Seoul’s largest gang; Kim Namjoon gets you a guard hybrid; Park Jimin, The reigning champion of Seoul’s underground hybrid fighting ring.

Pairing: Jimin x Reader, mentions of Hoseok x Reader. Namjoon x Seokjin

Warnings/tags: Major Gore, blood, guns, injuries, Near Death experiences, Blood, guilt, hurt/comfort, Hospital, Mafia!reader, Mafia!Namjoon, Older brother!Namjoon, DogHybrid!Jimin, slow burn, general angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, boy x boy

Wordcount: 8.2K 

A/n: serious gore warnings in this chapter. Namjoon shows his true ruthlessness as a gang leader in this. Sorry, it’s been a while since I released part 6. hope you like it I tried my best not to make this feel rushed -M 

When Jimin comes too lying face down on a gurney, the ambulance jostles him and he can still feel the little bits of glass as they move inside of them going deeper. He can still feel the taste of your name on his tongue. His hands weekly try to grasp at the edge of the gurney. so when a doctor above him asks him if he can remember his master's name he tries to say Namjoon - Kim Namjoon But all he can do is mutter your name over and over again. he say’s it like a prayer until the pain pulls him under again. 

It’s a memory that greets this time and not a dream full of dark turns and webs of pain. Because this is real, all of it is. He knows that this is where he sat last week. What he did last week. And he knows the words he’ll say before he says them.  Everything just looks a little different, a little off-kilter like they don’t line up correctly.

“Did you have any plans today,” Jimin asks, idly turning a pencil around in his hands. You shake your head. He had found you this morning in the kitchen, after waking up in bed alone. Looking ruffled from sleep in a tight white shirt, fluffy zip up and a pair of soft looking silk sleep shorts that he knows are your favorite pajama bottoms. Your laptop is the focus of most of your attention in the center of a bunch of schoolwork. 

“Movie marathon?” he proffers slowly. You nod, your eyes still trained on your computer screen. 

“Just let me finish writing these emails to my professors”t Jimin busies himself with a bowl of cereal while you write your last email. Then the scene shifts to your usual haunt- the living room. 

The only comfortable way that Jimin can lie down is on his stomach, so he splays himself across the couch, leaving one square left by his head if you want to sit next to him or on the opposite couch. His heart flutters when chose that, he can feel the warmth of your body against his head. And his ears that flicker with your movement. Always giving away where his attention really is, you pull a cushion onto your lap as the movie starts, patting it softly with your hand. 

“What are you doing.” He asks, looking up at you.

“Put your head in my lap don’t you want me to rub your ears?” The low wine that lodgers its self in Jimin’s through is stifled when he pulls himself forward to rest on the cushion, one of his arms across your thighs. Your fingers card through his hair a little lightly at first then scratch harder in a movement that lights his whole body on fire. He hides his blush in the cushion until it goes away. It’s always this way initially.

“I guess you do owe me after all the shopping bags I lugged around and all the protecting I did yesterday.” He struggles tone is teasing and light but his voice still holds a hint of a groan. “I’m going to milk all the ear rubs out of that that I can.” You snort tugging on one lightly. 

“Oh no- don’t tell me I’ve made a cuddle monster out of you.” Jimin nods. 

“I’m never going to let you forget it if it means I get this.” You scoff. 

“Before I know it you’ll be asking me to call you good boy”

His heart hammers against his chest as his entire body perks up, his tail dashes back and forth slapping the couch cushions with a loud thwack. Jimin’s face is fire- no it’s the burning pits of hell as he looks up at you, his eyes wide. Shocked at his body’s instinctual reaction. 

You’re wearing an expression like a cat that got the cream. Your voice is a low purr. As your thumb rubs along the side of his cheek. “so you like being called a good boy?” the wine that escapes his throat is barely there as his tail speeds up again. “you’re such a good boy Jimin.”

He wines in Ernest. His face still bright red as he traps his arms around you and pulls his face to rest against your stomach hiding away his expression. Your stomach jumps with laughter as his hands splay across your back. 

“You’re never going to let me forget this are you.” 

“Not a chance, good boy.” You tease, sending Jimin’s heart into tremors once again.

He comes too again when they start Sowing up his back; he bites down on his arm to stop himself from screaming. His masters at the kennels used to hate it when they screamed, and this time it is more of an instinct than anything at all. 

“If you don’t fucking let me see him right this instant I’m going to steal a scalpel and stab you,” you say to Taehyung. Who is trying to stop you from leaving the emergency room. It’s not the first time you’ve threatened him with bodily harm in the last hour or in the duration of your friendship. In fact, at one point this kind of threat was a regular occurrence. Although you remember being far less serious then, now you kind of want to stab him.  You’d like to think that you’d grown past this point by now. 

But crisis tends to do funny things to people. 

His gaze lowers but he still doesn’t move, his body stiffening, ready to be on the receiving end of your sharp ire. “Namjoon gave me explicit orders not to let you leave until the doctors give me your discharge papers.” 

“I have a mild concussion Tae- keyword mild.” Tae rubs the back of his head before sighing and stepping aside to let you pass. You don’t need to turn around to know he’s followed you. 

Out of all of them Tae and Hoseok where hurt from the explosion the least only receiving small bruises from where they fell after the explosion. Hoseok’s injuries were a little worse because he straight up threw himself onto a table in surprise, the idiot. In the craziness of last few hours, it’s the two of them that have been running recon. But that was until the rest of your gang arrived. 

lower level members of the gang are everywhere- a group of three following you wherever you go and another 2 have joined you (Tae’s detail). They’ve been shadowing Tae since the initial hours after the explosion. Your brother isn’t taking any chances.  Namjoon’s had them dress in off the rack suits. The hospital is filled with so many high profile patients that the gang members look more like bodyguards than anything else.  

No one was saying it, but you all new. The explosion. Everything. Was just another attempt on the inner circle’s life. Everyone was on high alert. The entire gang was mobilized and ready for another attack at any moment. 

You’re still in your gala dress. Part of it is covered with glass dust. Your right side is stained with Jimin’s blood- all of the crystals stained. The explosion has left you with a tremor that would steady if only you could grab onto something. You can’t wait to get out of this dress. 

Shame and guilt cling to you, suffocating and burning your lungs with every swallow of air like saltwater.  It was your idea, your fault for making Namjoon feel guilty about your reclusive life. If you hadn’t asked him and bugged him constantly about having a life outside of the gang then this never would have happened. He never would have accepted the invitation to the ball and the people you love would be okay. 

All of this is your fault. 

 Your bare feet are cold on the hospital floor. Thought one of your guards left to find you a pair of shoes when Taehyung realize that you had somehow lost your high heels during the blast. But you don’t mind the feel of the cool linoleum against your feet. It steady’s you. Grounds you as you navigate through the hospital towards the hybrid clinic. 

Your brother, Seokjin, and Yoongi all had minor cuts and scrapes, the worst of which was on your brother’s arm. You’re the next most serious injury next to theirs, a minor concussion, it was deemed unnecessary for you to be admitted after it was confirmed by a brain scan that there would be no lasting damage. The fact that you were practically foaming at the mouth to get out of here obviously helped the doctor’s snappy decision. 

Next, to you, Jimin and Jungkook have similar injuries, though after being stitched up- Jungkook’s practically fine. He, like you, was initially knocked out by the force of the blast. He had a minor cut on his side that was barely deep enough to require stitches.

Jimin on the other hand… 

You’ve only heard things second hand from gang members but it looked like he needed a blood transfusion, and would be the last to finish treatment. He needed a significant amount of stitches to close up his back. Normally you all would have had to stay in the hospital longer but Namjoon was having none of that. The hospital was too widespread, too hard to defend. 

The large volume of people currently exiting and entering made it a nightmare to keep track of anybody undesirable that might enter. You were all going to be set to discharge tonight, or this morning, The sun was just beginning to crest over the horizon as you walked through the large hallway Tae close on your heals. The hybrid ward was unsurprisingly empty. The craziness of the explosion and the victims limited to the larger part of the hospital. the two guards stationed outside of Jimin’s room remained stoic as you rounded the corner. 

“Are you good here? I’m going to go get the others and then we’ll leave” you nodded, giving Tae a silent thanks for giving you some privacy with Jimin. you enter the room as your guards join Jimin’s of your guards. Both Jimin’s head and the nurses head shot up when you opened the door. The only person who didn’t was a lone guard who was seated in the corner who had been watching you probably since the doorknob first started to turn. 

“You’re dismissed.” You told him, the nurse started to get up- only to be met by a glare from you. You knew how you looked, bloodstained and disheveled and surprisingly angry. 

The guard eyed you warily. You knew that he likely had Namjoon’s orders not to leave the hybrid alone. But you were a member of the inner circle too; disobeying you might incur the same wrath. Right now you certainly looked angrier than his boss had. As he left you dragged his vacated chair over to Jimin. 

He was bare-chested, lying on his stomach on a padded table covered in paper. He turned his head to look at you but you can’t meet his eyes. His blood was dripping sluggishly as the woman worked on his back. His back that had once unmarked was now bruised and bloodied by your mistake. 

3 out of the 4 large scratches where already sutured, but the largest one had needed staples. A metal pan was off to the side, full of bloodstained gauze pads and shards of glass. you're shocked to find the largest of them is inches long.  One of his arms is connected to a blood bag that’s empty while the other is attached to a bag of painkillers.

Your breath gets shaky as you take in the sight of him. The damage inflicted on his body. Your lip quivers as you try not to cry because all of this- all of this pain is because of you. You finally meet his gaze and find him gnawing at his upper lip. The concern in his expression only heightens your feeling of shame. 

“Jimin I-“ he winces, his body jolting in pain as the nurse passes a needle through his skin. “Can’t you give him more pain medication?” You ask the nurse gruffly. She looks at you surprised; you’ve barely acknowledged her presence since entering. 

“It’s fine, I don’t need it.” 

“Stop being stubborn and just take it. You’re in pain.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Jimin.” You say through gritted teeth. “Just take the fucking pain meds- you know I won’t order you to do it or force you but you’re being ridiculous.” 

“You don’t have to spend any more money on me, I know all of this cost a lot.” 

“You really think I care if it costs money? Jimin- I should be in your place right now” your voice wavers as it raises in pitch and you don’t know if it’s the hysteria of the evening or the fact that his muscles are taught like wires that’s making you unwind so easily. Every time the nurse’s needle passes through his skin his muscles start to shake more.

 “You saved me.” anger ripples from you, and Jimin doesn't let down, his ears tilted forward a little bit more then they are when he’s relaxed. “Don’t you understand that I can’t let you be in pain if it’s because of me!?” 

“Don’t you understand that I don’t care if it hurts as long as you’re alright!” this is the first time he’s ever raised his voice around you let alone at you. He realizes it when your eyes fill with tears- but you’re not mad at him- or scared of him. All of the pain and hate in your eyes is directed inwards. 

“I wish it wasn’t- that this wasn’t- that we…” his warm palm covers yours and his other reaches up to rub the away the tear on your cheek. He understands your bitterness in your words because honestly, this could be so much easier. 

He’s so tired right now. It’s been a long time since he last came this close to death. Almost two months. He forgot how much it took out of him. There was a time when he thought he would never forget the feeling. To wake up in a panic, or the relief that fell from his bones in waves when he realized that survival wasn’t just a dream. And he knows now why that is. Why he’s almost had years of fear trained out of him. 

He knows that the feelings that tug him closer to you aren’t just run of the mill affection. He would die for you- he almost did, and that can’t mean nothing. And from the looks of it, from how you lean into his hands, you’re equally as hungry for his affection as he has been for yours.

He can’t believe he almost kissed you tonight. He can’t believe he got this close to fucking everything up. He can’t believe you almost died. 

Tears- small and warm leak onto the side of his palm as you rest your cheek against it, pressing a small kiss onto the back of it. “Jimin, please, take the fucking painkillers.” He sighs and makes a flippant gesture at the nurse to let her know that she can add another bag to the IV that’s already emptied its self into his arms. 

He reaches out- running his fingers through your hair. His eyes closed as his heart begins to steady, feeling at ease now that he has you close and safe. You don’t know what I would have done if you had died. You both think. And Jimin lets his hands drop- just as someone knocks quietly on the metal door and Namjoon enters, propping his shoulder against the doorframe. 

All of his practiced ease is gone. There is no trace of your brother in the man that stands at the door. His expression is blank but anything but vacant. His eyes cold and calculating to a frightening degree. 

If there where an army of gang members following you its nothing compared to what’s following Namjoon. Most of the inner circle has convened, thought Seokjin is missing, and Yoongi stands a ways away close enough to a dizzy looking Jungkook that Jimin suspects he’s expecting him to collapse The woman finishes the final stitch and bows to his owner at the door when Jimin thanks her before sitting up. 

 He sways a little before he slides to the edge of the table and gently then gently lowers himself onto the floor. Namjoon snaps his fingers and a young boy darts forward, setting a pair of flats on the floor and handing Jimin a button down white shirt. Jimin slides it on gingerly, glad that he can get it on himself even though he has a little trouble with the buttons and settles for it being half done. 

 The nurse takes a moment scribbling on a pad; “we usually would prescribe oxycodone to hybrids but-“ the look Namjoon sends her is scathing and shuts her up quicker than words would. He turns. The pair of you falls in behind Namjoon and Taehyung as you leave the hospital.

No one speaks, no one breathes. Not even once in the half hour that it takes you to drive home. No one bothers to leave to change they just all file into Namjoon’s office. Jimin understands why Namjoon would need such a large space; there is hardly enough room for the seven of you here. Noticeably, Seokjin is still missing. Jimin hasn’t seen him since the explosion. But no one seems bothered by his absence so Jimin lets it go without comment.

You perch yourself on the edge of Namjoon’s desk as Taehyung goes to stand by the lit fire. Jimin hovers in between, leaning against the armrest of the couch trying not to stretch his back in a way that will pull his stitches. Everything is dull; the ache in his back, The tugging of his body towards sleep. He makes himself stay awake. 

Namjoon’s first words aren’t what you expect. “Tomorrow I’m withdrawing you from classes.” 

“Joonie-“ he holds up a threatening finger- and the expression he sends your way is dark- the darkest it’s ever been when directed at you. He looks like he should start sprouting fangs and claws at any moment. The raw anger in his eyes is enough to get everyone to shut up. But just like your anger- this anger is directed inward. He can see how shaken you are. 

Your fingers twining over and over each other again and again, a motion that he bets you’re unaware of. Your jaw clenches and unclenches as you try to school your face into a mask of as little emotions as possible. You might think you can handle this right now- but Namjoon is inclined to keep you in a safe and stable situation for as long as possible. 

“Don’t argue with me on this, this decision is final.” Jimin’s ears pin to the back of his head as his leg brushes yours in support. “We’ll think about your schooling again when this is all over.” Namjoon admonishes his expression softer. 

“What do you mean by this?” Jungkook asks quietly.  He stands on his feet but you don’t need to be a genius to see how pale he is. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Yoongi says, running his fingers through his hair- turned almost grey with the amount of dust that’s still in it. And when everyone turns to him you realize how tired he looks. His jacket has a rip in it and there is a small scrape along his chin. His eyes look shadowed- like he hasn’t slept for days instead of just a night. “That was a declaration of war.”

The gulp in the room is tangible. It’s Hoseok who replies. “We knew this was coming, the other gangs have become too bold- too violent.” But none of you thought the inner circle would be targeted first. A brutal and violent attack like that could have easily left them crippled. 

“What are you going to do?” the grin that Namjoon gives Jungkook is almost feral.

“I’m going to show them why they should be afraid of us.” Namjoon sits back in his desk. “Jungkook, Jimin, y/n, get some sleep. Everyone else stays, we have work to do tonight.” 

Jungkook begins to protest. But you tug at his sleeve and his words die in his throat.  Checking the three of you out of the hospital is one thing. But Namjoon is hyper-aware of how everyone, but especially the three of you, looks like they’re about to collapse. 

Jungkook walks next door to his house by himself as the two of you sleepily ascend the main stairs as slowly as possible. Both your bones are stiff, and your front hurts enough that you’re sure you’re going to wake up with bruises. Jimin stiffens every time his back shifts uncomfortably. 

You set about trying to remove your dress in the backroom, reaching around to undo the clasps to let it pool at your feet before you shower. The mortar dust and ashes disappear down the drain, as you let your tears mix themselves with the water. 

You’re overwhelmed; you can’t believe you were so stupid, so selfish. Self-hate consumes you- even as you pull on your fluffy pajamas; exiting your bathroom you find Jimin sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s traded his suit pants for sweatpants but his chest is bare- he clutches a cotton shirt in his hands. 

“I can’t lift my arms above my shoulders.” He says quietly, sucking on his lower lip. “Do you care if I sleep shirtless” you shake your head not trusting yourself to speak. The breath you breathe in is shaky When you take the shirt from Jimin’s hands and fold it back up- placing it on the settee. The air clears some of the sadness from your lungs.  

“What’s wrong?” he asks as if he can sense your distress. With his instincts, stronger than humans, he probably can. 

“Nothing,” you say, but your voice breaks. Warm blankets envelop you as you lie on your back, looking at the crown molding on your sealing. 

Jimin shuts off the lights and lies next to you on his stomach. Placing the blankets delicately on top of his body. From here you can see the bandages as they crisscross over his back.

You think of what you saw earlier the glass shards and his skin sewn together. His body taught with pain and his face drawn into resolution. He was so ready to die for you. And that fact scares you to your core. What makes you worth that sacrifice? Why would he take that risk for someone like you? You close your eyes as you try to keep quiet the tears leaking out of the side of your face and down your cheek as you bite your lip to muffle a sob. 

A soft touch comes on your cheek. And your eyes shoot open. Jimin has pulled himself next to you, and his nose nudges your cheek. His ears are pinned to the side of his head. His eyes filled with an undeniable warmth he leans back in. You can feel his breath on your neck as he tries to ease away your sadness, and then a soft tongue that licks away your tears. 

“I never meant to make you cry, please don’t cry for me.” He licks your others cheek. His warm breath washes over you as your sobs return in full force. You tug Jimin down, and he tucks his face into the bare skin of your neck. You hold onto his neck and uninjured lower back as you sob out I’m sorry again and again after. And Jimin knows that his words won't make you feel better so he just lies curled on top of you, his fingers trailing up and down your side trying to make the pain go away as best he can.

Finding the chairman’s house is easier then Namjoon expects. The location is sent to his phone by Seokjin (who is still mobilizing the gang) while Namjoon is still selecting the tools for the evening. Yoongi takes out the guards from a nearby rooftop as Hoseok and Taehyung take the house along with a half dozen lower level gang members. 

Woozi, one of the younger gang members that Yoongi often recruits because of his proficiency with handguns,  bravely kicks down the door, opening onto a handful of guards that fall in a hail of gunfire. The chairman has no family. The guards fall as silently as they can manage. Yoongi joins them by the time they clear the first floor and start on the second. They eye the last room before entering. 

The chairman is on the floor faster than he can see Hoseok coming for him. His back pinned to the floor and a gun pointed to the two of his bodyguards until they hand over their weapons. The fat man struggles under Hoseok’s knees Trying to escape futilely. Hoseok pistol-whips him into submission. Yoongi looks up from where he has his gun pointed, speaking into the microphone at his jacket pocket. “Office is clear.”

The Slow footsteps taping against the linoleum are the only sounds. No one speaks, no one breathes as Namjoon enters the room, he’s changed his clothes since the gala but his tight black shirt and glasses look anything but threatening.  “Now Now chairman. Why must you continue to be so disloyal and disobedient.” 

Namjoon flicks his wrist and Hoseok cuffs the man’s hands behind his back, stepping away to give Namjoon space to do his job. Namjoon kneels down to his level. Snapping the rubber gloves to his hands so that he doesn’t leave any fingerprints. “The way I see it you either knew what was going to happen to the gala and you let it happen.” Namjoon cards a hand through the chairman’s hair- an almost affectionate gesture where it not for the way he savagely rips his hair back yanking some of it out. 

“Or you were stupid enough to allow it to occur.” Namjoon stands and takes out a canvas holder from his Brest pocket rolling it out on the desk revealing the many knives- the torture tools that he had inherited from his father. 

“Either way I’m going to get the truth out of you.” he withdraws the pair of pliers the same moment one of the guards move. He had a bullet in his brain and one in his heart before he even draws his second hidden pistol. the blood splattering against the wall as his body falls limp. 

Some hits Hoseok and too his credit he barely flinches. Yoongi stalks forward his gloved hands reaching into the pocket of the dead man. He pulls out a cellphone that’s almost a minute into a call- not the police. Namjoon recognizes the number though. And he presses it to his ear when Yoongi passes it off to him. 

“Is the chairman dead yet?” Chanyeol drawls into the receiver. 

“He’s about to be, but the same could be said for you.” 

“That’s bold, admitting your plans to me on the phone- how do you know I’m not recording it and forwarding it to the police?”

“If you’re stupid enough to involve the police in this then I’ll make sure you have more then just Bangtan after you.” Chanyeol chuckles into the receiver. 

“Of course you would assume that everyone’s on your side.” 

“ And of course you expect-“ Chanyeol cuts him off. 

“Did she like it? Your little sister- seeing her little puppy and Jungkookie getting torn to pieces. I’ll admit I didn’t get a good view of her expression but I saw you.” Namjoon stops pacing. His hand tightens on the receiver as he’s quieted. “I’ll have to say it looked like she did. I loved watching you try to pull her away from him. It was refreshing to see you so unnerved. I’d forgotten that monsters like you actually have emotions. It Makes me wonder what I could make you feel if I got her in private.”

Namjoon’s silence ends as his anger crashes down, a tidal wave is almost more intimidating than his words. But he makes sure they can come out steady when he finally lets himself speak. 

“I’m going to take you apart piece by piece one day. Skin you alive and cauterize the wounds as I do it to keep you alive. I’ll wait until you heal- and after that” Namjoon takes the gun from Hoseok and puts it in the guard’s mouth- shooting him through the cheek. Then he presses the phone's receiver up against the side of the man’s face so that Chanyeol can hear the gurgle as he chokes on his own blood. “Then the real fun will begin” he hangs up the phone, passing it too Seokjin who melt it down in their incinerator later.  Then Namjoon leans down to the chairman. 

“Open your mouth.” He commands.

“Why do you need to torture me- you already know it was the red X’s- I'm innocent.” 

“I never told you who I was on the phone with chairman,” Namjoon says, sighing with a bored and almost disappointed air.  “Open your mouth before I decide to bash your teeth in too.” 

Hours later the paramedics finally get called to the chairman’s house and pronounce him DOA. In Namjoon’s defense he really didn’t mean to kill him; just send a message to anyone who crossed him or planned with his enemies behind his back. 

the police where left baffled because somewhere out there was a killer with the chairman’s tongue. He too had choked on his own blood. Drowned in it, and he wasn’t the only one. 

Across the city many of the Red X’s hidden stores where hit. Gang members murdered in the same fashion or in what almost looked like a fit of rage to the forensics’ team. Shops not known to be gang affiliated where exposed. Their illegal wears dumped out-front just seconds before the cops arrived. Nothing was stolen. Everything that could be used against them or handed over to the police. Leaving a neat and tidy trail pointing directly where Namjoon wanted it. 

If there were one person that looked absolutely harmless to the police before that night it would have been Park Chanyeol. The only kind of trouble the public would have thought he was capable of falling into was a bottle. A notorious playboy who was a favorite of the tabloids for his looks and wealth. Poor park Chanyeol. His parent's tragic deaths in his childhood and his fiancée's death a few year back must have been the reason why he used his uncle's money to wipe his ass. 

The police where much more intrigued with Chaneyol’s uncle. Who had the reputation for seedy business deals and a connection to the mysterious leader of the Red X’s. maybe Chanyeol’s gang wasn't as well known as Bangtan, but they were defiantly as deadly. 

the leaders of the crime organizations always remained faceless. Maybe not nameless, however and the leader of the Red X’s had earned his title as the black and red king.  It was a gruesome name that had many bodies to back it up, as well as the illegal weapons trafficking trade that had built him his kingdom.  

Black and red. Guns and blood. 

No one had any illusions over who was involved now. Because of piles of illegally acquired weapons where piled outside of park seniors business places. Mountains of explosives, and enough drugs to land half the red light district in early graves. On each pile was a picture of Chanyeol along with a typed message worded by Taehyung himself. The child's rhyme led the police straight to Chanyeol’s door. 

Secrets, secrets are no fun- unless you share with everyone.

It left a very clear message. The Red X’s might control the weapons of war. But Bangtan owned the police and could wield them as a dangerous weapon if they forced their hand. 

Chanyeol might have been the king of a kingdom, but Bangtan was an empire ruled by a monster. And they where all ready for whatever would happen next.

It’s a little after 12am when the pain medication finally wears off enough for Jimin to feel both the pain and the panic even through sleep. He’s a little stunned that he managed to sleep so long. The most sleep he ever managed to get at the kennels after a fight was 5 hours. Adrenaline took a long time to wear off, and that was enough to keep him from sleeping. Almost 15 hours felt heavy in his bones. He pushed himself up on his elbows and groaned- feeling the skin on his back pinch with every turn stinging the grogginess out of him. 

How the hell was he still so tired?

Beside him, you look almost peaceful, but your hands are fisted in the sheets pulling and tugging at them enough to let him know that whatever you’re dreaming about isn’t pleasant. You aren’t awake though. He tries to find a comfortable position with his hips to the side to go back to sleep. But then the smell of blood. Faint but metallic stings the tip of his nose. Its faint enough that he can tell it’s coming from outside. So he makes himself get out of bed and goes to investigate. Heading towards the balcony.

Jimin leans over the edge of the banister- enjoying how the cool air on his back distracts him from the pain. A sharp pop interrupts his quiet thoughts- and he turns to the edge where he can see over the wall. His hybrid ears can hear what his human ones can’t.  And pick up the strings of conversation as he moves to the edge so he can get a better look into the house next to him. The smell of blood is stronger here, and it’s tied with Hoseok’s and Taehyung’s scent. But it’s not their blood. 

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting to see. But Hoseok with a golf club hitting balls into his pool isn’t it. His hair looks wet. And Jimin can tell even from this distance that he’s scrubbed the skin on his face raw from trying to get the blood off. Taehyung and Jungkook sit on the steps a safe distance behind where Hoseok swings. A ball ricochets off the edge of the pool and almost hits the house causing Jungkook to should and duck his head Taehyung’s flinch almost knocks over the uncapped bottle of whiskey that sits between them. 

“I hate it” he hears Hoseok say, punctuating the word hate with a swing. The next goofball fly’s forward going higher than the last, and striking the wall this time, recreating the noise that drew Jimin to their spot. 

“How am I supposed to compete when he keeps doing things like that for her? She loves that hero stuff.”  Oh, so that’s what they’re talking about. Jimin feels himself shrivel in with shyness “how am I ever going to win her back.” 

“Hang on didn’t you tell her you just wanted to be friends?” Jungkook interrupts. The boy is hunched over himself. Curled in in a way that lets Jimin know that he’s been brought out of bed for a similar reason as Jimin. His stomach is probably killing him from all the medication. Jimin’s isn’t feeling that good either. 

“Yeah but that was more her idea than mine Jungkook.”

He’s shocked to find Taehyung’s eyes flicker to him up on the balcony. Shit- he’s been caught. He was sure he didn’t make any noise but Taehyung must have sensed him or something. That man’s senses were scarily good for a human. But then Taehyung just turns to Hoseok, ignoring Jimin’s presence, letting him listen in. 

“Have you ever thought?” Taehyung says. “That it might be time to let Y/n go Hoseok? It’s been a few years.” 

“I know Tae it’s just-” Hoseok is interrupted by a pained groan from Jungkook groans and Jimin decides to take his leave before he’s caught eve’s dropping even more. “Do you need more pills kookie? I know you don’t want to take anymore but you need to sleep.” is the last thing he hears before he disappears inside. The glass door effectively cutting off his conversation. 

His head is spinning from what he’s heard and his stomach is in knots from all the medication he’s taken. his stomach twists with hunger when he thinks about the kitchen and the possibility of leftovers from the takeout yesterday.  

 He descends as slowly and as carefully as he can. At the late hour, he’s surprised when he hears the door open and Seokjin’s quiet steps as he walks in. but his greeting dies in his throat when the man doesn’t see Jimin on the dark stairs. The jacket that’s pulled over his shirt is clean but he’s still wearing the bloodstained white shirt and pants from almost a day ago. He still smells like the tang of blood mixed with burning things. He doesn’t bother to take off his shoes before he beelines it for the kitchen. 

In the kitchen, Namjoon sits at the bar. Hunched over the edge of a glass of whiskey. It’s not unusual for him to be drinking this late. But he’s been making too much of a habit of it recently.  He can’t sleep, at least not yet- because he’s not here yet and try as he might he cant go to sleep before he see’s Seokjin with his own eyes, and confirmed that he’s alright. 

It’s been hours since he last saw him. Hours since Seokjin gripped his arms to steady him when they wheeled his unconscious sister into the emergency room on a gurney. Hours since the bite of his fingers on his forearms knocked him out of his panic.  Since Seokjin knocked him back into his own head with the quiet words of “You need to mobilize everyone.” Came his quiet steady voice. It was like he had been hearing it through water.

Seokjin had disappeared soon after- to set into motion a contingency plan that the two of them had planned for years in case something like this happened. Neither of them had ever expected to use it. It had been too easy to lose Seokjin in the emergency room. In truth, The emergency room had been crazy, victims dead and dying piled on gurneys, too many wounded and not nearly enough doctors that late at night. 

The chairman’s Blood has gathered around his fingernails- strait soap couldn’t get it off but he’s not surprised. That much blood alone wasn’t enough to sate Namjoon’s anger. And he didn’t know how much it would take before he considered the pain of the evening paid for. 

He hears a choking noise that sounds oddly like his own name.  His head snaps up, and a shaky sigh works its way out of his throat before Seokjin is in his arms faster then he can blink. The sudden affection shocks him- like it always does. But he finds his hands coming up to fist in the back of his jacket. 

From the outside, Jimin watches from the unlit entryway. He didn’t intend on sneaking up on the obviously intimate moment. But not that he’s watching he can’t tear his eyes away. 

“Taehyung told me what you did to Chanyeol’s shops and how you dealt with the chairman. That was stupid and bold and you know it.” Seokjin says when he pulls away from Namjoon. Namjoon’s hands fall to the sides. As he stands.

“I had to do it after what they did to us. You know I can’t let something like that go” 

“you don’t do things like that without running it by me. Jesus you’re going to give me greys before I’m 30.” Seokjin manages to pull a small smile from Namjoon. 

“I wouldn’t have done it If I thought it was dangerous- hang on.” His fingers grab Seokjin’s chin turning it away to reveal the shallow cut on his cheek. “Where the fuck did you get this?” he says, the little all humor and ease that Seokjin had managed to cultivate is gone from his voice. Seokjin looks down, turning his head away. 

“At the gala- must have been a piece of glass.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you get it looked at when we were at the hospital.”

“There were more important things- the gang needed-.”

“Not a good enough excuse.” 

“There were others that where more hurt then I was. Kookie and Jimine-” 

“They hurt your face Seokjin. Your face.” 

“I think I'm still pretty with it. What do you think?” to anyone else it would sound joking but Namjoon can hear the seriousness lingering. Seokjin is actually looking for assurance from Namjoon. Both of Namjoon’s wide hands swallow Seokjin’s face as he runs a gentle thumb along the length of the scratch. It might be just deep enough to scar but with how it's already scabbed its hard too tell

 Jimin can see his eyes close as he leans into Namjoon’s touch. He remembers doing the same thing to your hands, and at that moment he makes a noise in the back of his throat. A wine, involuntary. Seokjin hears, turning and meeting Jimin’s eyes. He’s not angry that Jimin’s been snooping, but they don’t know how long he’s been standing there and what he’s seen- what he can guess at now. 

“how are you feeling Jimin?” he says effortlessly as Namjoon’s hands drop a little too quickly. They don’t step apart though. Knowing well enough that to do so would be suspicious. They remain a hairs breath closer then is normal. Namjoon’s knee still warm against the Seokjin’s thigh. 

“The pain woke me up.” Seokjin reaches into his bag. Handing over the bottle of pills to Jimin. “Taehyung gave me these for you. He said that Jungkookie was having trouble sleeping too.” Jimin nods, and then thanks him. Namjoon and Seokjin share a glance, and then Namjoon nudges Seokjin forward.

“Wait in my office yeah? I want to talk to Jimin for a moment.” Seokjin nods and then smiles at Jimin before retrieving his bag from the floor and leaving the kitchen. Jimin wordlessly goes to the fridge, pulling out some leftovers from last night, some onto a plate before he sets it in the microwave. 

He tried to be as easy and relaxed as he can. Namjoon is still his master- sometimes it’s easy for him to forget. But he feels at home enough here to turn his back to the man and get food without asking when he’s hungry. Which is more than he ever thought he would be able to get. 

Jimin leans up against the counter, his lower back digging into the harsh edge. And raises his eyes to meet Namjoon’s slowly. It takes him a moment to find the right words. Namjoon opens his mouth once and then closes it 3 times in a single minute. It's not like Jimin to see him so lost for words. 

“I’m never going to forget what you’ve done for this family- for our family, not for as long as I live.” Jimin does his best to try and shrug off Namjoon’s heavy gaze.

“It’s why you bought me- to protector her- I’d feel bad that you invested that kind of money in me without getting any sort of payoff.” 

Namjoon chuckles but it doesn't reach his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like one of us…” you say that like it’s a bad thing Jimin thinks.

“Was I not supposed to learn master?” Namjoon chuckles, hiding his smile with his hand. 

“No, not at all.” Jimin nods, his head is still spinning, and he wants nothing more than to go upstairs pop a few pills and forget everything that had happened for a little while.  “If there’s anything you want, now is the time to ask for it.” 

There is a part of him that screams- tell him now, ask him now. but Namjoon cellphone sits on the dining room table, and he can’t help but wonder who might be listening in. 

Jimin’s feelings for you burn through him but there is more than one secret that Namjoon doesn’t know. More than one thing that Namjoon doesn’t know. And they threaten to push past his lips; Jimin bites them as if to keep them inside. 

Namjoon notices his inner conflict, but his expression remains steely.  Instead, he settles for shaking his head. Namjoon should have known better than to ask such a personal question, and he can see Jimin’s walls go up again, somehow stronger than before. 

One thing is for sure- whatever he’s not divulging is eating at him. And just like the rest of the members- the fact that he’s not being honest with Namjoon concerns him. 

Weeks ago he would have been suspicious. But Jimin’s protected you and the rest of the members enough times that Namjoon trusts him implicitly to act in your best interest. And then there was the matter of Namjoon’s secrets. The night he had come home covered in blood that he only remembers vaguely. He had woken with a start- shocked to find everything but his room free of blood (the cleaning staff knew not to enter his room without permission from him) and you unaware what had conspired last night. 

It wouldn’t have been the first time you had found evidence of his job in the house. But it had been a long long time since you had woken up to find your brother passed out in someone else’s blood. After the first few times, Namjoon had decided that he wouldn’t let it happen again. 

But it was hard some days. To look at his hands when he knew how many lives he had ended, let alone ruined. He was called monster for a reason and sometimes it was hard to settle his two personas. The loyal Namjoon that his family knew. And the cold nightmare that the city and the world feared.  

There where only 2 things that made it better or easier. And Namjoon found himself reaching for the first, a bottle of whiskey in the kitchen before he retired. he left Jimin to eat his stir-fry and retreated to his study where he knew an Adderall was waiting for him. 

The drug was useful for keeping himself awake but dangerous when chased with whiskey. The favorite poison of his that made it easy to forget, easier still when he needed to think. The key was finding the edge between dizziness and true intoxication. And when he was in a foul mood he often found himself toeing the line or hurling himself headfirst over it in frustration.

The second thing that made his guilt better was a secret. A secret that he kept from himself and the others. A secret that he barely let himself think about because then it would make it real. Something that had the possibility of becoming just as much of a weakness as he was a strength.

“There you are, I was beginning to think that the Maknae had stolen you away for the evening,” Seokjin said as Namjoon opened his office door. He’s already poring over documents that are scattered on Namjoon’s desk. The floor plan of a bank is cast onto a floor. The heist they’d been planning forgotten in the wake of the oncoming war.  Different plans detailing the probable layout of shipping containers and boats overlain with Seokjin’s personal notes occupied the space instead.

“Just paying gratitude where it’s due.” Seokjin casts a glare at the bottle of whiskey when Namjoon takes a swig out of it. he sits back in the desk chair that always felt uncomfortable no matter how many times he switched it out. Maybe it was the desk or just the room that bothered him. Even years later- it still felt more like his fathers than his own. 

“How did he take it?” Namjoon shrugged twiddling the cap of Hennessey in-between his fingers as he wondered if he should be worried or not. 

“He’s hiding something but I can’t tell what just yet. But because it’s Jimin I can’t imagine that it will be an issue.”

“Do you think it could be something that might interfere with your plans?” Seokjin asked, gesturing the to schematics in front of him Namjoon opens his desk drawer and pops and Adderall- chasing it with liquor. 

“It’s unlikely, I can’t imagine that it’s anything too significant, have you figured the right layout yet?” Seokjin smirks, his face pulling into a starlit smile that tugs at Namjoon’s heartstrings dragging his heart up to clog his throat. The glance he gives Namjoon over the plan is mischievous, but because it’s Seokjin it always looks a little too sweet to be threatening. 

Maybe that was why Namjoon felt the way he did. The sweetness of Seokjin; so different from the bitter sting of whiskey that he used to try to wash his feelings down his throat. 

“They won’t know what hit them.” Namjoon has to take another swig of liquor to get rid of the way his whole body jumps around Seokjin. Thank god he’s had enough practice schooling his emotions into a mask or else the moment would have made him fall apart. The way Seokjin’s hand hovers near his makes him want to reach out to feel his skin against his.

But “show me.” is all he says.

[twirlinginthefade]

42 & 60 for Varric & Rowan? Or Rowan & Cullen, if you'd prefer

You.

I like you.

Have a fic.

42: Big Damn Kiss60: Poorly timed confessions

Rowan didn’t hate many things. She tried to be positive about a lot of things and it was hard to be positive when you wanted to wring someone’s neck for breathing.

Bianca Davri, however, was one of the exceptions.

The dwarf had asked Varric to help her after revealing the location of the Thaig Varric had found was leaked. Of course, Rowan couldn’t let them go alone, fearful of what would happen to Varric if he didn’t have a team behind him.

But, she would have been blind not to see how he looked at the other dwarf.

She had brought along as few people as she could, Cassandra’s warning about large parties echoing in her skull.

So, it was only her, Bianca, Varric and a bemused Dorian. The other mage wrinkled his nose at the mention of the darkspawn and mean, icky things that crawled in Thaigs. But, her offer of a research opportunity helped a bit, soothing her darling peacock’s feathers.

The four of them dealt the ‘company’ easily, each of them being mostly ranged fighters. Occasionally, a few darkspawn would get close enough for Rowan to unsheath her sword and fight them close-combat. Bianca jumped in more than once to help her and it took all of Rowan’s strength not to scowl at the stars in Varric’s eyes when he watched Bianca fight.

But, in the deep reaches of Rowan’s mind, there was something bothering her. Bianca said she had used these caves before, but there was something the woman wasn’t telling them.

Then at the end, cornered by Varric, she had no choice but to admit what she had done.

“Andraste’s ass, Bianca, you’re the leak?” Varric burst, clearly upset.

“When I got the location, I went and had a look for myself, and I found the red lyrium and I…studied it” She finished weakly, still defensive.

And yet, Varric’s utmost concern was still Bianca’s safety, as he grilled her about what the red crystals do to people, with Bianca arguing back that no-one had found out what the stuff was.

“It has the Blight Varric! Do you know what that means?” Bianca shouted at him, making Rowan wince at the volume. Dorian poked his head around the corner from where he was studying the lettering on the walls until Rowan shook her head, glancing at the two.

Oh, she was so getting drunk with him when they got back to Skyhold.

“This isn’t one of your machines” Varric insisted, getting closer to the other woman. “You can’t just replace a part and call it fixed”

“I can try, can’t I? Or am I supposed to wallow in my mistakes forever, kicking myself, telling stories of what I should have done?”

“Ha,” Varric said, sarcastic and caustic. “As if I would tell stories of my own mistakes”

Rowan sighed, done with the two of them dancing around. “Enough, both of you,” She said, using the Inquisitor voice she had so painstakingly worked on. Varric glanced at her, surprised by the tone.

She rarely used the Voice around her soulmates, and only when the situation was dire.

She had never actually used it on them though.

“Varric is right, you should have kept the location a secret” She started, Varric shooting Bianca a victorious glance. “However, Bianca had a good reason. She wanted to help. Her way of helping was wrong, but she got farther than most” She finished begrudgingly.

The two dwarves look at her strangely when she ran a hand through her hair, tired from magic use and the argument. Varric sighed and shook his head, moving away from the woman.

“You’d best get home Bianca before someone misses you,” He said, going back towards Dorian.

“Varric-”

“Don’t worry about it”

Bianca and Rowan watched him walk away, joining Dorian at the entrance to the little room.

Then, Rowan heard Bianca threaten her.

In a flash, Bianca was slammed against the door she had closed, pinned by a very angry knight-enchanter.

“You wanna say that again Davri?” Rowan snarled getting up close and personal to the gasping dwarf. “You dare threaten me when you have done more harm to Varric by just being here, than I have in my entire time knowing him! You-”

“Put her down!” Varric shouted, unslinging Bianca from his back. His eyes were wide when he took in the picture, Rowan holding the other woman up by the front of her hood and Bianca gasping for air.

Rowan shot him a guilty look as she dropped Bianca, clenching her jaw.

“Varric-”

“I don’t want to hear it” He snarled, going to help Bianca up. “Don’t talk to me until we get back to Skyhold”

Rowan winced and nodded, leaving the two to themselves.

“Amicus-”

“Not right now Dorian” She whispered, taking her staff from him. “Let’s just get home”

She ignored the look he gave her back and the shaking in her hands when she burned a swath through the darkspawn gathering again, allowing her anger to burn out.

It was days later when Rowan saw Varric finally.

She was in her tower, a bottle of cider in one hand and watching the twin moons rise along the mountains, mind hazy from the previous bottles. She could hear the door open and Varric’s heavy steps along the stair, along with the curse when he saw the mess of bottles scattered around the corners of the room.

“Thunder?” He shouted, and Rowan sighed from where she lay on the balcony.

“Over here,” She said, taking another swing when he cursed again, finding her on the bare stone in only her nightgown.

“Make, Thunder, what are you doing?” He asked incredulously. Rowan rolled her head to look at him, rift-green eyes hooded.

“Drinking,” She said bluntly and turned back to the moon. “I thought you weren’t talking to me”

Varric clenched his jaw at her question and held out his hand, intent on getting her up and inside where she wouldn’t freeze to death or fall if she passed out.

“Come on, this isn’t a conversation to be had out here. Let’s get inside with the fire” He tried to keep calm as she bypassed his hand, getting up using the old balcony rail. Her steps were awkward, the drink and her leg making the steps heavy and uneven.He was careful not to touch her as he leads her inside, still angry at her for what she did to Bianca.

But also, angry at himself for what he did in return.

“Thunder-” He started and for once, found himself at a loss for words as she sat heavily on her bed and looked at him, vulnerable and tired. “We need to talk about Valammar”

“Which part? The part where Bianca threatened me and I lost my temper? The part where you sided with her and pulled your crossbow on me?” Rowan’s eyes glinted in the firelight as she leaned forwards, a sardonic grin on her face. “Please, enlighten me”

“Thu- Rowan. Please, I need you to listen to me”

The use of her actual name pulled Rowan back from the precipice a bit. Then, she actually looked at Varric.

Normally, Varric took as good care of himself as he could. Steady sleep, bathing when he could and making sure the scruff on his chin never evolved into a full beard.

But now?

His eyes were bloodshot, his hair mussed and escaping its ponytail, and melding in places to the beard now covering his face.

He looked bad.

“I talked to Bianca” He started, sighing. “She told me what she said and how you retaliated, and I-” He paused, swallowing. “I realized that I would have done the same thing if someone did that to you. Hell, I’m surprised it took you that long to snap honestly”

Rowan cooed softly, pulling on his sleeve. “Varric-”

“Please, let me finish” He whispered, covering her hand with his own. “If I don’t do it now, I won’t ever get it out.”

“When we first met, I told you I had someone. That someone, as you can tell, was Bianca. But, Valammar made me realize something. Bianca isn’t right for me. She may be a genius and a Paragon in the making, but she isn’t you. She isn’t the one who fights for the little people, she isn’t the one who jokes and drinks with me when she knows I’m swamped with paperwork. She isn’t the one who killed heaps of darkspawn to fix my mistake because she had faith in me.”

Quietly, he took both Rowan’s hands in his and took a deep shuddering breath.

“Rowan, I came up here to tell you that I don’t want Bianca anymore. I want you. If you will take me after all the shit I have put you through”

The room was silent for a moment as Varric kept his eyes on Rowan’s pale hands, not daring to look her in the eyes.

“Varric,” She said finally. “Look at me”

Wincing, he looked up into her eyes, gold meeting green in the soft firelight.

“Why the fuck did you have to tell me this when I am drunk off my ass at 2 in the morning?” She demanded and Varric couldn’t help but laugh.

“Because I’m a coward, and I wasn’t sure if you would remember this in the morning” He admitted and Rowan shook her head, pulling him closer until they were touching noses.

“I’m going to remember this Varric” She whispered, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. “Until the end of my days, I will remember this.”

Varric gulped and made to pull away, only to be kept in place by a gentle grip.

“Kiss me goodnight?” She asked, so tentative it broke his heart.

And so he did.

And in the morning, when he saw her in the morning, both of them remembered.

[nalufever]

Canuck vs Canuck: Episode 2 Part II, Spies Like Us

Links to Episode 1: Part I  |  Part II  |  Part III  |  Part IV | Part V | Part VI 

Episode 2: Part I

Episode 2: Part II, Spies Like Us  Dear @impracticaldemon Lucy scores her first kiss, nyah, nyah, nyah!

"C'mon." Natsu held out a hand and waggled his fingers. "Ignore my brother, he's got issues."

Lucy nodded, tentatively placing her hand in his. A bit reassured when he smiled like he hadn't just wiped the floor with three shady men intent on trouble. His touch was warm and reminded Lucy of summer - Natsu's name, his tanned skin and his joyful attitude. No matter what, she would fight to have the normal life she wanted.

To Lucy's surprise the Dragneel apartment didn't have an electronic lock or fancy digital entry. It opened with a plain key that dangled from a curiously shaped charm. Natsu ushered her in, shutting and locking the door behind them. "Zeref might take a while."

"Uh huh." Lucy took note of the apartment layout, keeping track of how many steps she took - and trying to look as if she wasn't. "You've got remarkable taste in furnishings."

"Bwahahaha!" Natsu almost dropped the bag of food which had escaped destruction in the fight. Sadly, the drinks had been a total loss. "I live on my barista's wages. This," he waved his arm around the living room. He pointed to the high ceilings, crown moulding and expensive built-in bookcases. "Is his attempt to bribe me into following his footsteps."

>>MORE BELOW READ MORE<<

Natsu sighed as he fondled a lush display of blood red roses in a black vase on a black coffee table in front of a black leather couch.

He looked so forlorn, Lucy wanted to give him a hug - or two hugs - hell, an all-out cuddle session. Before she could offer, her stomach growled. Loudly.

"Sorry, let's eat and then we can finish the grand tour." Natsu forced a grin. "Follow me to the kitchen - we'll eat there. I hate the dining room, it's too gloomy."

"If it's anything like the living room, I'd have to agree." Lucy grimaced, "Tch, black furniture and dark walnut wainscoting - overkill if you ask me."

"It's the stupid family painting that creeps me out." Natsu shook his head, "Never mind all that, I'm hungry too."

The kitchen was bright and airy, lots of stainless steel appliances, with walls a pleasing yellow. On the counter was something very familiar. A top of the line Italian espresso machine - La Marzocco.

Lucy ran covetous fingers over the casing, unable to stop grinning. "This is a beauty! What can I make for you?"

Natsu looked up from where he was ripping apart the sandwich bag. "None for me, but help yourself to whatever you'd like. Glasses are in the upper cupboard to the left and the coffee and syrups are on the right."

Lucy started humming. She poked around the shelves, pulling out the beans she wanted, syrup and items from the fridge. "Last chance to try my classic mock strawberry coffee shake."

"I'm good." Lucy jumped - Natsu was right behind her, stealing the carton of milk and pouring himself a tall glass. "Maybe the next time you come over to hang-out." Natsu handed the milk to Lucy and smiled. "That's if Zeref hasn't run you off scared."

"Family…can be difficult."

"And your father, Jude Heartfilia is very difficult." Natsu shrugged and added, "Maybe as difficult as my brother."

Lucy steadied her nerves counting every implement in the kitchen that could be used as a weapon. It felt wrong to do this with Natsu. But he knew who her father was, and she had to protect herself - if conversation couldn't save her life. "I've disowned him. I'm Lucy Smith."

"Zeref always says blood will tell, but I'll be the first to hope you can escape his legacy." Natsu gave Lucy a sweet smile. Just like the ones from earlier in the afternoon - while he had trained her at CJ's with stories and jokes.

Natsu turned, giving Lucy the whole of his back as a target - walking slowly to the small kitchen table. Was it trust or a trap? Nerves jangling, Lucy stood poised to attack. Natsu ignored the block of knives, the mounted fire extinguisher and a selection of easily broken glass bottles holding various oils.

"Hurry or I'll be giving you second choice on the food!"

The dark and churning pit in Lucy's stomach relaxed and her legs felt rubbery. Crisis averted - if it had ever been a crisis. "I'm a pro with this machine." With quick efficient movements, Lucy prepared her drink. She mixed the espresso with steamed milk, pouring that on top of the syrups in her tall glass and added a generous amount of whipped cream.

Lucy joined Natsu, pleased to discover while he hadn't bothered with plates, there were placemats and napkins. Putting down her frothy drink, Lucy looked at the sandwich wrappers. She chose the one marked 'h + s' - happy to discover that it was ham and Swiss cheese.

A little disgusted and a little bit in awe, Lucy watched Natsu devour a sandwich piled high with hot peppers. Not just from the sheer volume of Scoville units he was consuming - his abject enjoyment and lack of table manners was liberating to witness. A man like that, with passion for food…he might have other wild passions.

"I guess you could say tea is one of my passions, but it's not that wild." Natsu grinned and swiped Lucy's drink, sniffing and then deliberately sipped overtop her lip marks.

Indirect kiss! Indirect kiss! Lucy didn't know whether to press her luck by diving across the table to take a direct kiss or give herself shit for talking out her inner thoughts yet again.

Time to go big or go home. Lucy let out a shuddering breath. "So, are you going to strut your stuff or what?"

Tag Squad:@hakuyamazakisensei @eliz1369 @shell-senji @naluloverforever @fic-writer-appreciation @nalu-natic @strawberrysweetlove35 @cherryb0mb79 @unashamed-shipper @hidetheremote @kazama-hime @sabinasanfanfic 

[lena-went]

Rosso

                                                            RED

R: I dreamt I was running through walls of crystal rain. Each drop hit my skin like a spark of fire. I ran and ran through empty space, only the numb sound of the rain to keep me company. My hands and arms cut through the wet air as I sprinted towards a light in the distance. Suddenly just before I could reach the glow that was promised I fell. I kept falling and falling until I hit the white cold ground.

I came to with a start, gasping and clawing at my chest for air. My eyes adjusted to the light that had filled the bathroom, why was I in the bathroom? The events of last night came flooding back and I reached a hand to my lower stomach. My eyes flicked down at where my hand had made contact and saw the blood. My breathing became ragged and I let out a sob. I fumbled for my phone and managed to dial 911. Please no…please no.

F: The plane touched down on the runway and my fingers drummed hurriedly on the edge of my chair. I near sprinted through the airport before diving into the first cab I saw. Every hair on my body was prickling and I felt fear pulse through my limbs. I shouted our address to the cab driver who jumped and hit the gas immediately. Something was wrong. I could feel it.

As the cab turned onto our street I saw the lights of an ambulance flickering reflecting in the windows of the apartment building. Paramedics were rushing into the building carrying all kinds of medical equipment. Oh god…no.

I flung open the door of the cab at which the driver shouted and hit the breaks. I stumbled out and ran past the open metal doors of the building. In the stairwell I could hear shouts coming from three flights up. I made the climb faster than ever before, stumbling only once before I hit our landing. The door was open. I entered our home and my eyes darted everywhere searching for her.

“Y/N! Y/N?!” I shouted my voice cracking at the harshness of my volume.

Two paramedics exited the bathroom and gave me a concerned look. I hurried to where they were standing and pushed past them to see her, the woman I loved, curled up in our tub, her lower half covered in blood. There was another paramedic kneeling beside her holding an oxygen mask up to her face.

Her eyes rolled up to me and I had never seen such sadness in them. I fell to the ground with a sob and I reached for her face. Tears began to fall from her eyes and she moved away from the knuckles I had brought to graze her cheekbone.

“No…no…no.” I cried my face contorting in grief. Her eyes fell shut and her body slacked.

Suddenly everything was a blur, the paramedics were rushing around me, moving me as they attempted to lay a stretcher out on the bathroom floor.

“NO!” I screamed finding what was left of my strength and pulling myself up.

I was still shaking and sobbing but I reached down and pulled her from the tub. I could feel blood wet my hands as I pulled her close to me and lifted her higher, pressing her cold body against me. The oxygen mask fell from her face and a paramedic rushed to my side to hold it up to her nose and mouth as I carried her from the room and down the hall.

The sounds of metal and shuffled footsteps faded from my attention as I carried her down the steps of our apartment building and out the front doors into the light. The paramedics helped me transition her body onto the waiting stretcher in the back of the bus before I followed her inside. I wrapped both of my hands around one of her small cold ones. I kissed her fingertips over and over as my tears wet them. I held her hand to my mouth and cried. The paramedics hooked her up to a few machines and the ambulance took off sirens and all.

“I love you. Please…do not leave me.” I managed through my heavy sobs as I pressed my lips to her ear.

She remained unconscious for 2 hours.

In the hospital room I sat on the edge of my chair as close as possible to her motionless body. It was not a miscarriage. Our baby was safe. She had experienced a Sub-Chorionic Hemorrhage. However the doctors could not explain her unconsciousness. One suggested it was due to heartbreak and stress. This was all my fault.

Hour three she stirred. Her fingertips ran over the surface of the hospital blankets and she whimpered quietly. I jumped quickly leaning my body over her bed and running a hand down the side of her face.

“My love, everything’s ok. You are ok.” I could feel my voice break as her eyes opened and pierced mine.

“No. Freddy…our baby.”

“The baby is perfect, our baby is perfect.” I pressed my forehead to hers before kissing her ever so gently on her lips.

“But…the bleeding.” Her voice was small and gravely but becoming more clear.

“Sub-Chorionic Hemorrhage, a minor complication but everything is fine now my love, everything is fine.”

She let out a cry and I slipped a hand under her head to pull her up against me. Her hands gripped at my rumpled bloodied shirt and I felt myself begin to cry too.

“Freddy…I thought I lost our baby.” She sobbed as I tried to calm her.

Her body heaved and shook and all I could do was hold her close. I never should have left her. I spoke this over and over at which I felt her tense before pulling away.

“He would have killed you Frederick. He almost killed me.” Her words were without context but there was nothing else to which she could be referring.

“Hannibal?” I choked as she tilted her head to the side as a few tears escaped her eyes and nodded.

“Oh my love. Oh.” I crumbled on top of her and took in shallow panicked breaths.

She detailed the entire encounter to me and I could barely feel the rise and fall of my chest. Her hands found my neck and pulled me down next to her as she spoke. I lifted my feet and allowed her to move me to lay against her. Oh god, oh god, oh god. I pressed my nose into the side her neck and my lips followed suit.

“I am so sorry. It is all my fault.” I spoke my brows furrowed and raised.

“We’re ok Freddy, and that’s all that matters to me. All three of us are ok.” Her voice was sweet and comforting yet still contained a sadness that I could not bear.

“I love you. I love you. Oh god I love you.” I cried softly into the skin of her neck not wanting to think about what could have happened had fate been less kind.

She wove her arms around me as much as she could and I buried myself in her despite her being so small. She stroked her hands through my hair and down the nape of my neck, as she cried softly too.

She was kept overnight for observation but the next evening we were allowed to return home. I helped her into bed before finding cleaning supplies so I could scrub the tub clean. Normally the sight of blood was enough to make me sick, but seeing her blood only made me cry. Through the tears I managed to remove any hint of red from the white of the tub. I leaned my forehead against its external surface and sobbed softly.

A few moments later I felt her hands on my shoulders as she knelt beside me. She pressed her face in kisses to my neck before moving the kisses to my cheek and trembling lips.

“I thought…I thought I was going to lose you.” I managed through shaky breaths.

“Hey…hey…I’m here, I love you.” She caressed the side of my face with the softest touch before kissing me again.

She lifted me from the ground and I wrapped my arms around her taking a deep inhale of her scent which still carried hints of hospital. After a few moments she moved from me and began to take off her clothes. I peeled off my shirt and pants following her lead as she stepped into the shower beckoning me to follow her. I moved behind her in the shower but did not touch her. My mind was consumed by thoughts of what could have happened two nights ago and I felt my head lower in shame. I was her protector, I had sworn it to myself ages ago. Thats when her small wet hands ran up my sides and under my arms. She pulled me to her in the wet of the shower and I held her there before weaving a hand through her hair. She tilted her head back and rose on her toes to kiss me. I was hesitant and filled with guilt at her touch, but all that soon washed away along with everything else that was not us. I moved to my knees without care and pressed my face into her lower stomach, kissing and crying, apologizing and promising. Her finger nails grazed my wet scalp before she gripped my cheeks and tilted my head to look at her. My eyes were wide and glazed with tears, but I could still see the love written across her features. I stood again and kissed her, holding her close under the rain of the shower as I spoke my endearments over and over.

After we finished our shower we both fell into bed. Neither of us could take our eyes off the other, still haunted by the scathes we had encountered so recently. I pulled her close to me and reveled in her beauty. It had been too long since she had smiled. It had been too long since I had heard her laugh. Something was weighing on her, but I did not want to force her to speak of it. Not now. Her palms were pressed against my chest and she stared at me before moving a hand to cup my cheek. I had removed the prosthetic and contact at her request, I had been doing this at home since her birthday but had I hesitated to do it today. Her fingers traced my circular scar and she hummed quietly almost in satisfaction. She nestled into the space between my neck and chest, gifting me little wet kisses before her breath slowed and she fell asleep. I laid awake for hours, gripping her close and staring at the ceiling, trying to imagine a scenario where I could have protected her from such pain and fear. I fell asleep just as my mind entered the darkest of places, my final thought being, I almost killed our baby.

[distressedpanda]

Her Song (Loki x OFC) Part 10

Warnings: Language, mostly fluff but mentions of arousal. Angsty, angst, so much angst. Did I mention angst?

A/N: That’s right, you aren’t seeing things! Two posts in one day! (Pats self on back because no one else is going too!)

As always, let me know if you wish to be tagged.

Tags: @whosaidididthat​ @thenatallie​ Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 

Too soon for Loki, his peace was disrupted. Iloa had slumbered soundly against his side for several hours, her warmth calming and quelling his affliction further. He felt much better than he had upon first awakening. Her warmth and their electric connection healing his very soul. The aches from small movements disappearing as he soothed the sleeping beauty in his arms. 

But their undisturbed tranquility ended when Banner abruptly swung the door near the foot of the bed open. His eyes cast down, studying a clipboard in his hands as he made his way into the room. 

Loki’s instincts were to growl in warning at the other man, but he held back not wishing to awaken the sleeping girl at his side. A low rumble did start the closer the other got to the bed, causing Loki to further notice the lack of pain. Banner finally looked up, assessing the sight before him with clinical analysis. Then he smiled.

“You’re awake,” Banner said, keeping his voice low. 

Loki was stunned, he had assumed the doctor would demand the removal of the girl from his person. Schooling his features, “Obviously,” he deadpanned. Sure he had become alarmingly open with Iloa, but that didn’t mean he was going to change who he was around anyone else.

Banner had gone about gathering items from the cabinets and depositing them carefully on the metal rolling table. “I am happy to see that she is finally sleeping.”

The sincerity behind that statement brought back Loki’s earlier thoughts, “How long have I been out?” he asked again.

Banner tilted his watch up to look at, “Almost seven days now.”

Loki couldn’t stop the huff that escaped him, “Well I suppose that is over 24 hours,” he blanched, glancing back down at Iloa.

“Ha, is that what she told you?” When Loki nodded in conformation, still looking down at the girl, the doctor continued. “I guess she didn’t want you to know how bad it was. Honestly, I didn’t know if you would wake up again.” Banner rolled the table over to the side of the bed. 

“No need to worry, doctor,” Loki scoffed, finally looking back to the man. “I will not make the mistake of leaving her again,” unintentionally the words came out low and threatening. He didn’t think the doctor would remove the girl, but he couldn’t stop the incessant need to let anyone know that she would not be made to leave his side.

Banner lifted his hands in front of him, grinning, “Easy with the tone there, don’t want to anger the green monster. I am not making her leave or vice versa,” he chuckled. “I am just happy to see that she is finally sleeping. She has barely even rested all week.”

Loki inwardly blanched at the mention of the doctors alter ego, but kept his tone neutral. “How long was she out?”

“Only a few hours,” Banner admitted, reaching a tentative hand out to the other. “She refused to leave your side. Been in that chair since she woke up.” He held a blue cuff in his hand in an attempt to wrap it around Loki’s left arm. He cleared his throat before adding, “May I?”

Loki narrowed his eyes, “You have been treating me without my consent for an entire week and now you are asking permission?” He snarled at the other, annoyed by the stupidity of his question.

Banner actually flinched at Loki’s tone, taking a steadying breath. “Well, you weren’t awake then.”

Loki scoffed, “Oh just get on with it,” he growled, returning his focus and attention back to Iloa. He knew he was tempting fate, but it really was a stupid question.

Wrapping the cuff around Loki’s bicep, Banner set about checking his vitals. Loki focused on the way Iloa’s eyes suddenly raced behind her closed lids, her breathing becoming small gasps. Fearing she was having a nightmare, he tightened his arm around her. Calm yourself, my dear. He thought, knowing she couldn't hear him. But he would not voice such things in front of anyone but her. Hopefully his thoughts would be enough, for now. I will not leave you. Never again. Running his fingers soothingly through her curls and shushing the panicked thing at his side. With supreme satisfaction, he felt her breathing calm and her eyes slowed to lazy sweeps behind her closed lids. 

“You really care for her don’t you?” the doctor's voice broke into his thoughts. He looked up to see the doctor’s eyes filled with wonder.

Loki sneered at the man, “I do not see how that is any of your concern,” he bit out. Emotions, mortal emotions were a threat to his very livelihood. If he admitted to even one emotion, one fault, how many others would he feel the need to divulge? How many faults did he truly have? How many needed to be apologized for? He inwardly groaned at that thought. Save for Iloa, he had only honestly apologized to Frigga before. 

Banner shook his head, “You’re right, none of my business.” 

The doctor started to rub some type of cream across the gashes on his arm, “What happened?” he asked, remembering that he hadn’t gotten an answer from Iloa.

“The Russians,” Banner stated bluntly, returning the jar to the tray at his side. Loki quirked an eyebrow at the man, expecting more of an explanation. Banner sighed, “They were trying to retrieve the nuclear material, using the guise of being a part of the construction crew to gain access to the tower. Stark hadn’t stored the material at the Tower, though I suppose they were unaware of that fact. They set charges on their way out, luckily empty handed, and blew the Tower.” 

Upon his clarification, Loki turned his gaze back to Iloa again. She would, had, thought this was all her fault. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but it was a fact that he could feel in his heart. Perhaps her fear to tell him of her injuries, her low volume attempt to mask the wrong cords of her voice, perhaps even the guilt in her unnatural lilt. Maybe it was the fact that he now knew she hadn’t slept in seven days. But he knew she would blame herself for everything. He thanked the Gods that he had somehow managed to survive.

“Not that I care,” he stated carefully, narrowing his eyes to further clarify that fact, “But is anyone else injured?”

Banner smiled, causing Loki to sneer in displeasure before the doctor answered, “Injured, yes. But everyone is fine. Oddly enough, everyone else was on the lower floors. You were the only person injured this severely. Stark, Thor and I were in the labs. Steve wasn’t in the tower, neither were Clint or Sam. Natasha,” he said her name with reverence and a little guilt, Loki quirked his eyebrow at the change in his tone. Banner cleared his throat, casting his eyes down momentarily, “She was in the elevator. It went into free fall, but the emergency brakes activated at about floor 65. She suffered a concussion, but no other injuries.” Looking back up then, that unbearably professional smile plastered on his lips again, “But other than that, you and Iloa were the only ones actually inside the blast radius. We were all lucky.”

Loki nodded, taking in the new information. He had to agree they had been extremely lucky. 

When Banner finished as much as he could without waking Iloa, including removing the IV from his arm, “So your vitals look much better, amazing in fact. And the rest of you seems to be ahead of schedule, as far as healing. I still need to change the bandage on your back,” he held up a hand as a low rumble emitted from Loki’s chest, “But that can wait until Iloa wakes up on her own. Have her come get me from the lab and I will take care of it then.”

Loki nodded, watching the doctor put his supplies away and then exit the room. 

“You should have let him change it,” Iloa’s sleep riddled drawl cutting into the silence, nearly made Loki jump off the bed. 

He slapped his free hand over his heart and Iloa couldn’t hold in the small giggle that escaped her throat, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Loki glared down at her, but it had a playful edge that made Iloa sigh happily, “I was not scared. Startled perhaps, but definitely never scared,” he drawled, watching her grin grow into a genuine smile, that had his heart aching for a different reason altogether. Her tone was still off and she was still keeping her voice low, but he had to admit it was sounding better. Perhaps all she needed was the recovering power of deep sleep.

She nodded, “Yeah, sure,” she chided gently. She wiggled slightly, needing to stretch her tired muscles but still very aware that she could hurt him if she moved too much. 

As if reading her mind, Loki hesitantly removed his hand from her hair. He dropped his arm to the bed behind her, effectively releasing her from his hold. She smiled again, sitting up slowly and dangling her legs over the side of the bed. Loki watched in rapt silence, as she lifted her arms over her head, clasping one wrist and arching her back deliciously. The resounding pop though small, rang through the quiet room. 

Loki unconsciously licked his lips, a steady ache curling low in his stomach, his eyes dancing across the arch and curve of her petite frame. Suddenly, he needed to hide a very noticeable bulge beneath the sheets at his waist. He coughed, tearing his eyes away. This was neither the time nor place for such things to be capturing his thoughts. He took slow steadying breaths, drawing his knees up slightly to hide the embarrassing growth between his legs. A sharp pain lit his skin on fire at the motion, effectively deflating the hardness between his thighs. He bit back a groan, hissing sharply through his teeth.

Iloa spun around to look at him, placing a hand on his bare chest. “Loki, what happened?” her panicked voice rang harshly through the room. Her eyes frantically darted across his form before settling on his green gaze again.

So much for the healing powers of sleep, he thought. 

He chuckled darkly, breathing in her ocean scent letting her fingers envelope him in warmth and soothing electric energy before he answered, “I moved.” At her inquiring eyebrow lift, he explained, “I lifted my knees, you were no longer in contact with me and I felt pain again.” With her hand planted firmly on his chest, he tested the movement again. Slightly lifting his knees from the bed, he felt a dull ache that was perfectly manageable. He quirked his brow at her as though that should answer everything.

Iloa breathed shakily, whispering in awe, “It really does help,” tentatively she moved her hand away from his chest only to place it on his slightly lifted knee, her eyes tracking the movement of her hand. She pushed his knee gently back to the bed. He hissed again and her hand shot back to his chest again. “I am so sorry,” she blurted.

Loki nodded, “It would appear that it has to be skin-to-skin contact,” he clarified. Her blue gaze locked on his again. Lifting the arm still behind her, he rested his open palm against her cheek, “You haven’t slept nearly long enough. You need more rest, join me again?” he pleaded, feeling more open and vulnerable than ever before.

She smiled and shook her head gently, “You need to be treated fully, before I would be comfortable with that.” She nuzzled his hand briefly before pulling away, his arm falling heavily back to the bed, she stood up next to the bed. “Besides, I have to talk to Thor.” Loki’s features turned into one giant question mark and Iloa chuckled at him. Placing a reassuring hand over his, “He asked me to let him know when you woke up. I will return and it will give you some privacy when Banner changes your bandages.”

Loki captured her hand quickly, “But it will hurt more if you aren’t here,” he breathed, hating how small and exposed his voice sounded. He almost wanted to take it back, until he was rewarded with her warm endearing smile.

“If you want to keep your dignity, you don’t want me in the room,” she tried to convince him. “You are naked under that sheet, Loki,” she added with a small chuckle.

His eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a deep, husky whisper, “Who said anything about maintaining my dignity?”

Iloa gasped audibly, she could feel heat bloom across her cheeks. Desire pooled low in her belly and she fought to keep her mind in safe territory. “Loki,” she warned, breathlessly. 

Loki grinned evilly at the flush gracing Iloa’s beautiful features. He simply couldn’t resist tempting that flush, injuries be damned. “Don’t lie,” he teased, tugging her hand and drawing her back to his side. He trailed his hand slowly up her arm to flex his fingers across her shoulder blade. He drew her closer and she hesitantly lowered herself, placing her hands firmly on the bed. He lowered his head, brushing his lips teasingly across the shell of her ear, relishing the shiver that ran through her body. It took every ounce of willpower Iloa had to keep from melting into a puddle at Loki’s side. “You have wondered about what is under this sheet, haven’t you?” Loki breathed directly into her ear.

She shot up and away from his hold, “Loki,” she snapped, her cheeks growing from the pale pink to an alarming shade of red, “If you weren’t already injured, I would put you in here myself, you ass,” she growled and spun on her heels heading for the door.

He chuckled, groaning slightly already missing the loss of her contact, “But you love me for it,” he countered boldly.

She paused hand on the door handle, sinful thoughts dancing through her mind. Finding a daring thread of her own, she turned back to him. Her own eyes darkening, she took sure, confident steps back to him. Grinning at the audible inhale that crossed his lips at her approach. She lent forward quickly, before her brain could kick in with the logical excuse that she shouldn’t do this and captured his lips in a quick heated kiss. A low moan escaped his throat, before she pulled back to look him dead in the eyes, “I do,” she whispered, then turned leaving a very surprised Loki alone in the room, before he could even respond.

“Damn,” was the only word he could think to express the obvious turn over of control. But he found himself grinning as he thought, It isn’t so bad to lose control. . . sometimes.

[alittleimagine]

a helping hand pt. 3

Oliver Queen x Reader

part 1  part 2 

Your stomach grumbled louder than you would have liked in the silence of your building’s hallway, reacting to the smell of the Big Belly Burger bag in your hand. You had taken the day off to run errands and have lunch with friends, but lunch had been hours ago and you’d walked what felt like a hundred miles all day.

You keyed open your front door, struggling while you held your bags and drink, and nudged it open with your foot. With your elbow you flipped the light switch and walked over to drop everything on the coffee table.

“You should lock your window.” A voice said in the relative silence of the apartment.

For lack of a better word, you yelped. You jumped, nearly losing your grip on the soda in your hands, and turned to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry.” The Green Arrow rushed out from his spot over the sink in your kitchen.

You glared at him, breathing heavy from the scare, and cursed.

The door across the hall opened and you threw everything onto the coffee table and rushed back to the door you’d left open. You angled yourself and the door to make the kitchen impossible to see as one of your two same floor neighbors came out of his apartment.

“Hey, sweetheart. You okay? Jacob and I heard you scream.” Antony asked from his doorway.

You flushed at your scream. “I thought I saw a giant spider.” You lied. “It was a shadow.”

Antony laughed. “Oh sweetheart.” He waved an arm at her in amusement. “Have a good night.”

“Good night.” You muttered back. As you closed the door you could hear him report back to Jacob and their shared laughter.

As soon as you closed the door and turned all three locks you glared again at the kitchen. “They are never going to let me live it down.” You informed him. Your glare, half-hearted as it already was, fell away when he stepped out from behind the kitchen counter.

He had a number of paper towels wrapped around his left arm and even then you could see the blood seeping through.

You cursed again and rushed to him. “Are you alright? What happened? What do you need?”

“I’m fine.” He said. At your scoff he continued. “It’s a small cut, bleeds a lot because it’s the arm. Just need to wrap it.”

You weren’t sure you believed him, but you took his arm and put a hand to his shoulder and started pushing him toward your bathroom. “Come on. It pays to have a fully stocked first aid kit in the Glades.”

It had only been just shy of two months since the first time the Green Arrow had been in your apartment and only two times prior, but it felt perfectly natural to manhandle him as needed. He wouldn’t hurt you, you were sure of it, and he needed help even if he disagreed.

“Can we take off your sleeves? Or are you okay to take the whole thing off? You’re wearing a mask, but is your hair super recognizable?” You snorted to yourself. “Please tell me you have pink hair.”

“I don’t have pink hair.” He said, sounding amused.

You were a little disappointed.

Flipping the switch on the bathroom light you point to the closed toilet lid and he obediently sat. You looked around the room quickly, making sure there were no unmentionables lying around, but all you saw was discarded makeup and haphazardly tossed t-shirt by the sink. You dropped down to dig around under the sink.

“So, can we take it off? Or do you want me to run and grab you a hoodie? We can pull those sleeves up. The leather you’re wearing now… not so much.” Nearly smacking your head on the sink as you pulled back you brought the first aid kit out from the cabinet. It wasn’t super well organized, but you had plenty of gauze and antiseptic.

When he said nothing you sat back and looked up at him. He seemed to be ruminating.

You pulled yourself up and set the kit on the sink. “I’ll get you a hoodie. I have some big ones that will fit you. Then I can wrap you up.”

“I can do it.” He said. “I just needed to be off the street.”

You scoffed. If it was just wrapping his wound you were sure you could handle it, and it wouldn’t make sense to let him do it himself. He was here for your help, after all.

Rushing across the hall to your room you dug through the closet for some sweatshirt. You pulled one from the hanger and ran back to the bathroom. He could be the Blue Arrow for the night.

“Here you go, friend.” You set the hoodie down on top of the kit and looked at him fully.

He was wearing a little half smile and he painted such a strange picture sitting on your toilet lid in full vigilante costume. You couldn’t help but smile back. Everything was a little surreal.

“Need help?” You asked even though it would defeat the purpose of changing into the hoodie. The tilt of his head and the little smile was answer enough. “Okay, I’ll give you a sec. I’ll be right back.”

Before you closed the door behind you he spoke up. “I won’t be able to talk.”

It took you a second to understand and then realization dawned. Whatever he was using to change his voice was attached to his suit. You nodded. “I guess I’ll have to do all the talking.” You shrugged. “What a change for us.”

While he changed you went back into your kitchen and grabbed a new bottle of water for him. If he was going to keep visiting you were going to need to buy more water bottles. And maybe organize your kit.

You knocked on the bathroom door. “You all done?” Then paused. “Wait, damn, you can’t say. Knock on the counter once for yes, two for no.” When you heard only one knock you let yourself in.

He was zipping the sweatshirt up, hood already pulled over his head, as you swung open the door and it would have been absolutely impossible for you to not have zeroed in on the bits of his bare chest that were visible. It was… distracting, to say the least.

When you managed to tear your eyes from the now closed hoodie and looked up at him there was no missing the amused look on his face.

“Shut up.” You muttered. You set the water bottle on the space left over on the counter and pointed to it idly. He shook his head.

He’d already rolled his sleeve up, revealing a long gash on his forearm and a mixture of fresh and dried blood. You thanked every star above that blood didn’t make you queasy.

You grabbed the metal trash bin from your bathroom and set it in the center of your bathtub, then sat on the edge. “We should wash this first, right?” You asked.

He nodded.

Leaning to the side you turned on the faucet and gestured for him to let it run over his arm. His knees bumped yours in the small space of the bathroom as he turned in the seat and you mumbled out apologies. He shook his head and you took it to mean it wasn’t a big deal.

Cleaning and wrapping the cut wasn’t a quick process and you found yourself talking to fill up the silence while you worked. You talked about your job editing articles for a pop culture and tech website and your very sweet neighbors who just happened to be drug dealers (“only weed and some prescriptions pills and they’re the best neighbors and, you know what, just forget I mentioned them, don’t worry about my poor neighbors, leave them alone, they bake for me,”).

Every time you looked up to gauge his expression you found him at various levels of trying not to smile at you and you figured he was alright with your rambling.

As you went you tossed any paper towels and used gauze into the trash bin.

“Is this too tight?” You asked as you finished the first wrap. When he shook his head you continued until you had probably done too many layers. “Feel alright?”

He nodded and then carefully pulled the sleeve back over the bandage. Almost pointedly he reached for the water bottle and cracked it open for a drink.

You only just managed to hold back an ‘aww’, but there was no stopping your grin.

While he gathered back up his green leather suit you made a quick jaunt back to the kitchen and grabbed a box of matches. You skirted past him in the small room and struck a match then tossed it carefully into the trash bin and watched it all catch fire.

He put a hand on your arm and you looked up at his face. It was far less shadowed than it used to be in his costume and it was easier to identify the question he couldn’t say out loud.

“I don’t want you to worry.” You said. “I don’t want you to think I would do anything with your blood, like get it DNA tested or anything.” You felt his hand squeeze your forearm gently. “This is supposed to be a safe place.”

His hand remained on your arm while you both watched the fire burn out.

When only the last embers remained you turned on the water and nudge the can under it. The last thing you needed was to light your apartment on fire.

You looked up at him and he tilted his head to the side, gesturing to the door.

“Time for you to go?” You asked. He nodded. “Alright, friend, let’s go.”

He slung his quiver and the arrow back on over the blue hoodie and let you walk ahead of him to open the window. You stuck your head through it like you had the first day, double checking that the coast was clear. You pulled your head back in and nodded.

Before he stepped through the window onto the fire escape he leaned close, his hand at your elbow. “Y/N,” he whispered, his voice no doubt altered from its normal state by the low volume “thank you.”

It was the first time he’d said your name and you couldn’t help the dopey smile that spread across your face. “Hey, anytime.” Turning your arm just so in his grasp you reached for his forearm and gave it a squeeze through the fabric of your oversized blue hoodie. “Now, try and stay safe.”

And then he was gone.

A few days later your hoodie miraculously appeared on the table by the window, neatly folded with a typed note on top. Lock your window.