#stuff like being able to pull water from the ground and fill a puddle

[radiofreeilium]

Crowd sourcing plot points in my new wip

[kuroosweakness]

kiss kiss | sakusa kiyoomi <3 

this is the my favorite sakusa mini fic i’ve written yet :)) and my longest work! over 2000 words! 

“i don’t think i’ll ever understand the concept of kissing,” sakusa mumbles to komori as he leans down to tie his shoes. his shoes are already tied, but he needs to do something to hide his face for a couple of seconds. naturally, his curls fall to the sides of his face, just as he expected. 

komori quickly whirls around with a :) and a :0 face combined. “what was that??” he teases and crouches down to see his cousin’s hidden face. 

“i was just sayin’“ sakusa shrugs off. “it’s just people touching lips and sharing saliva. it’s disgusting. why people do it? i’ll never understand.” after dusting off his hands, sakusa gets up from the bench and stands up, having forgotten his tall height and head bumping right into a light. 

sakusa grimaces and rubs his head, trying his best to pretend it didn’t hurt at all. “stupid light,” he grumbles as he walks away. komori watches on, trying his best not to laugh while making a mental note to watch out for the low lights. 

~~~

“komori.” 

“hiya!” komori looks up at his cousin while continuing to stretch out his legs. 

“...have you ever kissed anyone?”

“...like, full on make-out?” komori quietly asks as he makes kissy hands to demonstrate. sakusa immediately frowns and crouches down. 

“stop making those weird gestures,” sakusa quietly scolds. “it’s embarrassing...” 

“what’s there to be embarrassed about?” komori softly chuckles while nervously scratching the back of his head. “why do you ask?” 

sakusa’s eyes divert away. “...just curious to know.” 

“well....” komori taps his chin in thought. “there’s this one friend i’ve kissed before. but it wasn’t anything too serious...”

sakusa looks at the ground below him, wondering if he should sit his whole butt down or keep crouching. he decides to keep asian-squating. “so how’d you initiate the kiss? like what did you do?” 

“...i think we’re supposed to be practicing receives right now,” komori sheepishly says while pointing at their teammates all practicing. the bump sounds and shoe creaks suddenly becomes audible to sakusa. 

“oh.” and with that, sakusa gets up and walks toward the pile of volleyballs. 

~~~

“remember the question i asked you last week?” sakusa breathes through his mask as he and komori jogs down the streets. he’s overly dressed for a jogger, especially in spring. everyone’s surprised he can move so freely in such a heavy jacket. 

“...what..... question?” komori asks, glancing at his cousin before looking back at the road in front of them. 

“you know what question.” 

“...i dont?” komori pants as he slows down his jogging pace. 

“the question....that....made you...do weird hand....gestures” 

“ohhhh the kissing question?” 

sakusa nods and moves to the side to avoid the kids walking toward them. 

“i’ve already told you....i’ve only kissed one person before. say, why’re you curious in my love life?” komori teasingly elbows sakusa as they come to a walking pace. 

sakusa annoyingly elbows him back. “is it so bad i want to know?” 

“it’s just not like you,” komori chuckles. at the sight of a bakery in front of them, his eyes immediately lightens up. “we should go there!!” 

sakusa’s eyes meet where komori’s pointing, then meets komori’s face, wondering if his cousin will share answers if he agrees. “okay. but back to my question about initiating the kiss.” 

“well, you’ll have to find someone you want to kiss first,” komori laughs. “and i don’t think you’ve found that person, judging from the way you always judge couples and bad breath.” 

“don’t be so quick to assume things,” sakusa grumbles under his mask. 

“anywaysss, you kinda have to know that the other person wants to kiss you too, ya’know?” 

“i don’t know,” sakusa dryly says, stating out the obvious. 

“yeah, tell me something i didn’t know,” komori replies and opens the bakery front door. waves of freshly baked bread fill their noses. komori dramatically inhales and exhales. sakusa lowers his mask. a little “ding” rings as the door opens and closes. 

“it’s so warm in here!” komori happily exclaims. “you sure you’re not gonna became toast yourself with that jacket on?” 

sakusa rolls his eyes. 

“back to the kissing topic,” komori starts. “consent is really important! you have to make sure they want to kiss you. and to know, just before kissing, you have to ask.” 

“lower your voice,” blushy-faced sakusa mumbles. “there’s people looking at us weirdly.” 

“not at me weirdly,” komori remarks. “just at you!” 

“i don’t know why i talk to you sometimes.” 

“i’ll pretend i didn’t hear that!” komori happily bounces over to the counter and tells the pretty cashier his order.  “kiyoomi, you want anything?” 

“no, not really.” 

“okay!” komori excitedly accepts his paper bag full of baked goods and eagerly munches into a chocolate croissant. “i was thinking that maybe we can stop and eat for a while” 

komori eating = less judgmental komori. who is he kidding, sakusa knows he himself is the most judgmental person he knows. “okay” 

as sakusa pulls out a seat facing away from the door, a little “ding” rings through the bakery. 

“oh look!” komori munches. “it’s y/n! hi y/n!”

sakusa’s stomach drops. his hands have never felt so clammy and cold before. maybe if he stays completely still, then you won’t notice him. 

“hi y/n!” komori calls again. 

“we’re going home. stop- stop stop stop we’re going home. i need to go home,” sakusa hastily mutters under his breath and gets up so fast, suddenly wishing his mask can cover his whole face. since you’re standing at the doorway, he waits until you walk inside to walk out. 

komori quickly gathers his stuff and says a quick apology to you. “sorry about him! well, we’ll catch ya later!” 

confused, yet unfazed, you give him a little smile and waves back. 

~~~

“so how was it?” 

“...not good,” sakusa’s face and curls fall into his hands. he groans and falls back on the his bed. “anyways, i need to study-” 

“no no no, i need to know!” komori insists. “most people’s first kiss isn’t that great so...you’re not the only one.” 

“how am i even supposed to see them again,” sakusa groans again and squirms around on the bedsheets. “it was so bad. so bad. so so bad. so so sooooo bad-” 

“do you have thoughts about kissing them again??” 

“yes,” he mumbles and swiftly grabs the nearest pillow and hugs it to his chest,  hiding his face in the process. “all the damn time.” 

“then it didn’t go as bad as i thought!” komori exclaims. 

~~~

“so you’re not gonna tell me how it went?” 

“why’re you so nosy???” sakusa scrunches up his nose. 

“you were the one who asked about my first kiss first,” komori defends, pulling back in playful offense. 

“like i said, it wasn’t good.” 

“how was it not good?” 

“the kissing tutorial videos didn’t work.” 

“....you watched kissing tutorials????!!” 

“komori motoya, if you don’t be quiet i swear-” 

“did they at least want to kiss you?” 

“...i don’t even know if we’re...together. this is so embarrassing. i was too impatient. i shouldn’t have. i rushed things. they didn’t even tell me they like me. what if they just went along with it and didn’t actually want-”

“i think you’re overthinking too much...” 

“can we just walk to school in silence?” 

“after you tell me first! i can give advice!” 

“i nearly missed their lips. and i froze up when we actually made contact. i was stiff. i couldn’t move. plus my mask shifted upward and completely interrupted us, which i’m kinda thankful for.”

komori stifles a laugh. “so...what’re you gonna do for your second one?” 

~~~

“i saw them with his stupid, ugly guy who if you put his teeth next to a beaver’s, no one would be able to tell the difference.” 

“....we all know you’re not the nicest person, but isn’t that a little mean..and a bit of an exaggeration?” komori chuckles and shifts his foot inside his volleyball shoes. 

“they have poor, poor taste in men.” 

“well...they did kiss you once...” 

“i don’t know anymore,” sakusa sighs. “i need to just focus on volleyball.” 

~~~

“i hate it here. absolutely hate. it. here.” with a grumble he tosses his clothes on his backpack and pads across the gym to get his water bottle. 

komori side-eyes his cousin. whether or not to ask what he’s talking about, even though he knows exactly what–no, who–he’s talking about. 

“is this volleyball related?” komori asks when sakusa walks back. 

... 

“you’ve never given up anything you’ve set your heart on,” komori kindly reminds him. “so why’re you giving up now?” 

“because all the things i’ve done, i was in completely control of” sakusa swings his backpack over his shoulder. “i can’t control other people’s feelings....nor do i want to.” 

“did something bad happen?” komori dashes to catch with his cousin, and the tea. 

“guess who i saw them with again? beaver guy.” 

“i heard they’re just classmates though,” komori gently reminds sakusa, hoping it’ll somewhat clear his senses. he jogs toward a mini puddle and jumps right into it. sakusa grimaces at the water splashes. 

“it doesn’t matter. i don’t care about them anymore. they can have beaver guy so they want. i’m one of the best volleyball players in the country, and i’m ...somewhat good looking, and i’m tall...their loss.” 

komori searches for more puddles. 

“is it because of my personality?” sakusa quietly says. when he sees his cousins jumping into more puddles, he rolls his eyes. “komori, i’m being serious here” 

“when are you not?” komori calls back. he jogs back to sakusa and says, “what makes you think it’s your personality?” 

“well....let’s not talk about it.” 

“...” komori glares at him. 

“well....they’re all smiles around other people and like :/ around me. and y’know, my cleanliness. not that i would change for anyone, but i’m just sayin’” 

“if they really liked you then, you wouldn’t want you to change. although, you can be nicer sometimes....just a little” komori cheekily says. 

“...you’re right,” sakusa sighs. 

~~~

“update: beaver guy’s no longer in their life. he tried to make a move on them and they didn’t like it so they cut him out of their life.” 

“wait whaaat? it’s been days since you last talked about y/n. what-” 

“can you not say their name so loud???” 

“so beaver guy pulled a move on them?” 

“yes. and they cut him off because he took advantage of their niceness.” 

“...” 

“so technically what happened to beaver guy also happened to me.” 

komori shakes his head. “y/n hasn’t cut you out of their life....they still talk to you sometimes! and even asked if you wanted to walk home, which you-” 

he points an accusing finger at sakusa. “which you said no to >:(” 

“don’t point, it’s rude.” sakusa looks away. 

“what’d you say no???” 

“i didn’t want to appear desperate.” 

~~~

“so...how long are you gonna stare at the ceiling? we’re supposed to be doing measurements right now.” 

“oh sorry,” sakusa slightly bows down and quietly adds, “i walked them home yesterday.” 

komori loudly gasps, which he apologizes for when everyone turns to look at him. “whaaat,” he whispers. “what happened?” 

“i walked them home and then walked myself home, that’s what happened.” 

“you’ve gotta be kidding me. give the details!”

“there’s nothing too important that happened. other than my confession.” 

._. “and you’re saying nothing important happened??” 

“turns out they like...me...too” sakusa stutters. his ears are bright red. “i feel like i’m gonna throw up.” sakusa’s hands presses against his stomach.

“the good kinda throw up?” 

“there’s no such thing as a ‘good throw up’“ sakusa barks back. 

~~~

“y/n looked really happy and cheerful today and so do you...which i thought i’d never see...” 

normally, sakusa would jab his cousin if he heard that, but today, he chooses to ignore it. 

“so what’s going on??” 

“nothing much. just some kissing,” sakusa says. his whole face is glowing. 

“remember when you said kissing was gross?” 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” sakusa brushes off. “and you better not tell y/n i think they’re gross when i clearly don’t >:(” 

~~~ 

“hand-holding huhhhh?” 

“their hands were cold, that’s why.” 

“why am i so invested in your relationship,” komori softly chuckles to himself. “y’all are cute.” 

“it does feel nice to have someone to talk to about these things,” sakusa quietly says. komori pulls back in surprise. 

“well, i’ll always be here for ya! but don’t you dare try rubbing your relationship in my face.” 

“i’d never. i know what it’s like to be single.” 

“???? that’s the most non-sympathetic thing i’ve ever heard! obviously, everyone knows what it feels like to be single” komori rolls his eyes. 

~~~

“people are saying y/n’s dating me for my money.” 

“ignore them >:(” 

“people keep saying that y/n probably get no action and that i don’t even touch them.” 

“like i said, ignore those stupid people” 

“i wish it can be that easy,” sakusa sighs. 

~~~

“i’ve lost track of how many times i’ve kissed them.” 

komori jokingly pulls back in disgust. “no one keeps track, dummy.” 

“i’d say about 43 times” 

~~~

and now sakusa kisses you like he’s a starved man who hasn’t eaten in days 😐 basically, engulfing you. long, passionate kisses that gets your heart pounding every time. 

and that’s it for now :)) tell me what you think! <3

[corruptedconfessions]

i dunno if you're still taking requests but um if you are do you think you could maybe do a Sidon from loz being an absolute feral fish god man. i sim p for fish :>

I actually had a drabble for feral Sidon already sitting on my computer from like??? December? of last year so thank you for giving me the reminder and an excuse to finish it </3

Should I have at least beta read this? Probably. Did I? No. 

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

Golden eyes watched your form disappear into the horizon, staring into the rising sun long after you disappeared from his view. Already his chest ached deeply at the loss of your presence. Why did you want to leave him so badly? Was he not enough for you? Did you believe he couldn’t protect you?

Somewhere inside him he knew that that wasn’t true. You had made it clear that you enjoyed his company, that you trusted him just as much as he trusted you with each others protection. But you were a hero, a champion. It was your destiny from the goddesses to roam the lands, throwing yourself into peril to protect and serve those who needed you.

Like you just had for his kingdom, slaying a mighty beast that had been tormenting his people and killing his soldiers left and right for months. Dozens of Zora soldiers had gone up against the beast and yet you took it down single handedly, with nothing but your weapons and your wit.

It wasn’t without cost, though. Even still when he closed his eyes he could see flashes of your body, bloodied and red. Your very source of life dripping off your fingertips onto the floors of the domain, barely making it past the gates before you collapsed onto the ground.

Yes, it was your destiny, what the goddesses had blessed you for. He knew that, he did. But it didn’t stop the rather…frightening thoughts that filled his head every time you came back from battle, beaten and bloody, skin still lingering with the heavy scent of death and destruction. The thoughts of wrapping you up in his arms and whisking you away, locking you down in a room, away from everyone else, away from things that could harm you. The thoughts of stripping you of your weapons and clothing, leaving you scared and vulnerable, desperate for his comfort and warmth.

You would cry but he would comfort you, this was all for your own good! This way he could take care of you, love and cherish you without the fears of you being ripped out of his arms be it by death or political matters. He could finally lavish you in the gifts he always wanted to, ignoring your protests or insistence that it doesnt fit you, that a warrior like you should not be seen in fine silks and glittering silver encrusted jewels.

You may fight him but he would push you down, easily dwarfing you with his size and strength. You would learn to accept your place next to him. You only needed time! Time to see that this is what was best so you could be together…with him.

At least, that’s how it would go. He always shoved down those thoughts, those urges. He knew it would make you unhappy, but a selfish part of him deep down inside didn’t care. He loved you so much, he just wanted to keep you all to himself.

Unconsciously he found himself wondering towards your room, feet leading there while his head was deep in the waters, drowning in thoughts of you. Your face, your touch, your smile…A lovelorn sigh spilled from his lips. Fate was so cruel to him, any other in the land could be by his side, be his fated, his mate forever and yet you lived just beyond his reach, your status as champion and the blessings of the goddesses leaving you in too high of standing to fall into his loving grasp.

How would you fall apart beneath him? Would it be soft and sweet, melting under his touches and crying out sweetly for him as he stuffs you full? Or would you fight him? Struggling and lashing out, fighting him for dominance with the passion and ferocity he had seen so many times on the battle field. Either way he was sure you would be a tasty meal that he would delight in partaking in! Already he could picture your thighs quivering around his head as he lapped at your most sensitive parts or see your quivering form as you’re stuffed full of his cock, shaking and whimpering as he fills you fuller than you’ve ever been, claiming you all the way to your deepest parts.

He didn’t even realize he had made it into your room, fallen onto the bed you so often used when visiting until your sweet scent surrounded him, taunting him further over your departure. There were still hints of you everywhere, trinkets left behind for safe keeping, a bloodied shirt, shredded beyond use or repair, still covered in the dark stains of your blood. A clawed hand reached out and grabbed it, pulling it close to his face before he even realized he had moved.

                                                        Fuckkk~

Your scent was so intoxicating, it was hard enough controlling himself when he got whiffs of you standing next to you, seeing your bright smile aimed up at him. But now, this pure unfiltered heavy scent…the scent of your blood. He could feel heat rolling through him, his teeth pulling back in a very unprincely like snarl as his hips instinctively rolled up, grinding into the air as he panted. Perhaps…he could forgive himself for losing control…just this once. Already he could feel the heat boiling in his loins, his lengths sliding out of their slits, already beading at the tip as they curled up against his stomach, filling out the more he breathed in your scent.

He hissed into the empty room as his hand wrapped around both of his lengths, slowly dragging up and down them as he rolled over, shoving his face into the bloodied shirt as he humped his tight fist, desperate for the friction that he craved. It wasn’t right, he couldn’t squeeze both his cocks like you would be able to, tight walls fluttering and clenching around him as you whimpered and cried out his name. If he squeezed his eyes closed tight enough he could almost pretend it was you pressed below him, soft warm body molding against his as he jerked off and ground down against you. You would take it wouldn’t you? His perfect champion, ready to be stuffed full of his cocks, to become one with him, become his forever…No one would question whose name you were screaming by the time he was done with you. He snarled teeth sinking deep into the pillow laying innocently next to the shirt, teeth easily slicing through the soft material as he squeezed himself tighter.

Deep growls echoed through the room, intermingling with harsh gasps that he barely registered. All he could feel  was the harsh drag of his claws against his cocks, the way the sheets rubbed roughly up against him with every grind of his hips as he rocked down against the image of you stuck in his head. All he could think about was you, round and heavy with his young, a clear mark on the back of your neck. His mark.

That was all it took for him to spill over, his teeth shredding through the last remnants of the pillow. He pressed his face hard against your shirt, letting your scent fill his senses as his hips weakly jerked forward, wave after wave crashing through him as he spilled across the sheets, a puddle forming below him. He shuttered weakly as his high tapered off, leaving him trembling slightly, his hips pressed into a wet sticky puddle, nothing more than a weak whiff of your scent on the shirt, now replaced with the heavy scent of sex. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. He couldn’t wait any longer, letting you slip through his fingers, slip away from where you were meant to be to run off and play hero? No. No more.

He needed to make you his.

[therewasatale]

go back

On Ao3.

Summary:  Would you go back? Would you leave him?

It was quiet, for once. And you were alone.

Sitting in the doorway of the wide barn, you could still feel the slow throbbing of the huge factory beneath through the ground. As if something gigantic was slowly inhaling and exhaling deep below. If you would have focused more, you might have heard the of tapping knocks, crackles, and rhythmic clicks as the plethora of machines did their thing ceaselessly.

The noise of the place has seeped into your very being. You didn’t really think you’d get used to the place so soon

You pulled your black coat closer to yourself while you watched the storm. The rain fed the puddles with fat drops. The drops fell into the water, creating big bubbles on their surface. It will rain for quite some time.  At least that's what your parents always said. By now, it seemed like a memory from a different life.

The wind rose and you took a deep breath. The sound of approaching footsteps mixed with the monotonous thumping filtering from the factory and the raindrops on the roof.

"Finally found you." Heisenberg stopped, then sat down next to you without question. "God damn it." This wasn't address to anyone, or more like it was addressed to everyone. A huge sigh escaped him and you two sat like that next to each other for a while.

"How was the family-meeting?" You glanced at the man. Even with his glasses on, you knew he rolled his eyes.

"I told you not to call it that." He pulled out a cigar from the depths of his coat and lit it expertly. "Bunch of freaks gathering so they can worship the mother." He almost spitted the last word.

You watched from the corner of your eyes as he slowly blew out a cloud of smoke, your gaze lingered on his lips for a few moments.

"The Dimitrescu daughters said hi..." Heisenberg grimaced and took a deep breath from the cigar. "They annoyed me until I promised I will relay this to you. So there." He pointed theatrically at himself and then bowed his head a little. "Now, no one can say I don't keep my word. God damn, annoying bugs."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, and at the same time as a pleasant warmth feeling spread through your chest. So the three of them haven’t forgotten about you, they even think of you time to time. "Thank you, it's very kind of you."

"I know." He grinned slightly. However, his smile didn’t last long when he looked at you. "I still have a hard time believing how long you managed to put up with them." His voice was unusually serious.

"I think they think the same thing about you now."

Heisenberg snorted. "Smartass."

"Thank you." You pushed him softly with your shoulder then you ran your eyes through the landscape behind the pouring rain.

It's been half a year since you got here.

You and Lady Dimitrescu still haven't talked yet, but you thought it was for the best. The Lady could be very convincing, sometimes intimidating and you were afraid you couldn’t have said no if you found yourself facing her again. She could be scary, but the same was true for Lord Heisenberg. You secretly hoped that the difference was that, while Lady Dimitrescu would have been able to hurt you, it would not be true of the man sitting next to you.

As you thought in silence, Heisenberg also found himself sinking in his thoughts. He would never have admitted it, but in a strange way he was able to calm down now. Somehow, everything seemed more peaceful when he was with you, or even just around you. At times like these even his anger subsided. He rolled the pressed cigar slowly between his fingers and tried to lengthen this moment as much as he could. Nevertheless, he was never a patient man.

"You…don't want to go back to them?"

"Hm?" You asked glancing at him.

The man didn't look at you.

"Alcina looked less mad than sad when her kids asked how are you doing. Maybe she would-" he stopped when his gaze met your eyes. He didn't tell the whole truth; he couldn't get himself to do it. How his so called sister stopped him before they returned home.

 'You should give them back.' Lady Dimitrescu raised her voice, which almost trembled with emotion.

'Give them back?' He, on the other hand, wouldn't even tried to hide his annoyance. 'What are ya talking about? (Y/N) perfectly fine with me. Besides, if I remember correctly you were the one, who threw them out.'

His sister rolled her eyes. 'Oh, please. Maybe I've made a mistake. But-'

'No,' Heisenberg snarled. 'It was not just a mistake! You have no fucking idea how much you hurt (Y/N), but I'm not going to let you do it again!'

'They are mine!' Her voice became more filled with darkness with every word 'You don't know anything about them!' As always she stepped closer towering over him, trying to intimidate by her size. 'They are mine! You don't know anything about them!'

However, Heisenberg couldn’t care less, and was getting really riled up too.

'Shut your mouth! They chose to leave you; they don't need a giant SELFISH WHORE LIKE YOU! ' He knew he didn't supposed to be this angry. But he heard your muffled crying just one time too many. His fingers tightened around his hammer. There was more than enough metal around him to use, if its needed. He couldn’t really help with easing your pain, but if he could get rid of the source of your pain, maybe, just maybe, it would help.

The woman's eyes burned with anger, and her blades were ready to cut through anything that got in their way. Lady Dimitrescu leaned closer. 'Maybe they chose to leave, but they will choose to come back. They're not yours. They still belong to me and when they realize this, they will come back to me. I was the one who helped them, who took them in. A weak man-thing like you could never make them happy. And if it's needed then I'm going to take them back from you, you miserable wretch!'

'Go ahead and try, you big piece of useless TRASH!' The hammer moved behind him by itself and rose into the air.

'You two, enough of this non-sense!' Mother Miranda had been waiting silently until now. She couldn’t let two of her most important subjects start a pointless fight and get one of them injured. 'Go to your place. Now! '

There was a sharp wind as black branches burst out of the ground separating Lady Dimitrescu and Lord Heisenberg.

 "No, I don't want to go back." You leaned back on your hands, not even noticing as Heisenberg's shoulders tightening.

You let the smell of tobacco and rain creep into your thoughts. "I was happy there, most of them time."

The man felt his chest grabbed by an icy hand. He took a deep lung full of smoke from his cigarette again.

"Actually I had to, be more cautious there to keep myself safe, but when Lady Dimitrescu took me as her personal maiden. Well." You scratched your head. "Everything was alright for a while." You shuddered, you could still recall the Lady’s touch in your memories and on body vividly to this very day. But it all didn't matter now. "But, you know, after a while I started to think…I was really just a toy that they got bored of, maybe not for the daughters, but for the Lady? Certainly."

You didn’t have the strength to look at Heisenberg. If you had seen some sign of the same thing in his eyes now...If you were just an object, and he maybe started to find you less interesting now…Would he do the same?

"I knew it was going to end like this. It's fine." You lied with a fake smile.

Dense smoke rose from his lips. "So, that's why?" He almost sounded annoyed. "Why are you still here?" So maybe you would go back?

"Hm. Partly…maybe."

"Get to the point, (Y/N)." He muttered under his breath, but he was still listening seriously.

"I love being here, Heisenberg. This place is amazing, I got used to the sounds and the smell and I can do a lot more than in the castle. I don't want to go back because I can be better here, maybe even happier next to you."

Heisenberg felt his heart skip a beat.

"I can be an asshole."

"Yes, you can." Your smile became more earnest.

"So?"

You grabbed his coat with one hand, took the cigarette out of his mouth with the other, then pulled him in a kiss. You could smell the bitter, smoky taste of cigarette on his lips. He snorted in surprise but hugged you closer with one arm. After putting your cigar aside, you caressed his face gently. He kissed you the way she behaved, without holding back or acting nice. Couple of minutes later you had pull away, fully out of breath. Panting and deeply blushing you faced him.

"You are an asshole. But you are also mine." You carefully took off his glasses so you could look into his gray eyes. "Would you hurt me, Heisenberg?"

"No." The lord grinned widely, still, deep in his eyes you could see true warmth hiding there. "Only if you want me to, if you're into this kind of stuff." Pulling you into his lap, he kissed you again."

Around you, the noises of the factory and rain were pushed into the background, and you could only focus on the man's smoky lips and his strong arms, embracing you.

[ethanesimp]

THE OAK TREE // TWO E.T.

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x GN! Reader

Summary: Everyone at the Oakes Academy is aware of the rivalry that exists between two of the school’s best students, Ethan Torchio and Y/N L/N. What nobody knows is what a brilliant team they are when they’re at risk of their reputations being damaged and a killer’s on the loose.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death and murder, mentions of blood, mentions of death and descriptions of it, mention of suicide (pls read with caution, ily <3).

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

CHAPTER ONE

A/N: Again, I apologize for the delay, life has been a lil bit crazy this past week. I also wanted to apologize for any possible typos because I’m working on a project but decided to take a break to finish this for you guys! I promise I’ll proofread this as soon as I get some time. Also, in the part where they’re texting, I recommend you check the texts on the Google Drive for context. Otherwise you might get a bit lost.

DON’T FORGET TO CHECK OUT TE AVAILABLE MATERIAL IN THE GOOGLE DRIVE WHICH YOU CAN FIND ON THE SERIES MASTERLIST

Taglist (strike means it won’t let me tag you):  @oro-e-diamanti @gretavanfleetlove @victoriadeangeliswifey @cheese-toastie-11 @selenophiliaxx @superchrystaldrug @petit-poussin @bidet-and-legolas @fallingforyou123 @ethaneskin @soft-boy-ethan @teenyweenynightghost @reputationdamiano @cantaraiilmionome @tabi-toast @queen-of-brokenhearts @geklutst-ei @juststalking @cruz-ata @ohtorchio @ethan-torchio-angelo @unitermoonshine @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @marriedwithmarktuan @its-afucking-mess @juststalking @goldenpeaxh​

LAST CHAPTER’S WINNING DECISION: They believe it is all real and go search for the body the finger might belong to. (The impact of this decision will be reflected next chapter).

Let the games begin. 

You had to read the last part once more, so consumed by the shock that barely any words had registered into your brain. Your hands were shaking as you held it closer to yourself. Maybe it was all part of the disbelief because you found yourself scanning the words over and over again until you had the first paragraph memorized. 

But then… then Ethan started laughing. 

Short, breathy laughs escaped past his lips, immediately followed by sharp inhales, as if he were desperate to get more air to reach his lungs. You brushed it off and went right back to reading the last few phrases that were on the very back, even said them under your breath to try and make them become real because everything seemed like nothing but a dream, no, a nightmare.

Then it slowly dawned on you after you finished reading the letter. All worry subsided and you had no doubt in your mind you would’ve started laughing too if you weren’t seeing red. Consumed by the sudden rage, you turned to Ethan and didn’t hesitate to tackle him into the ground.

In any normal instance, you wouldn’t have been able to do it, but you’d caught him off-guard, which was confirmed by the surprised yelp he let out as his back collided with the muddy floor and dry leaves crunched underneath his weight. You moved to straddle him the second you felt him shift beneath you, as if he wanted to get up. 

You looked at him for a split second. His face was illuminated by the soft glow of the red light. His distress was apparent. He was thrashing around to try and get you off him when you started hitting his chest over and over again. Your hits weren’t hard nor were they intended to cause any damage to him. In fact, he could have easily pushed you off him effortlessly if he wanted to, but Ethan didn’t even try. Instead, he let you continue hitting his chest.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? You’re… a… fucking… psycho!” Each word was accompanied by another frustrated hit to his chest as tears slowly fell down your face and sobs rattled your body, “You were the only one who knew that. The only person in this goddamn school I ever—ever was stupid enough to tell it to. And you use it for one of your sick and twisted pranks? Fuck you. Fuck you!” 

Your head fell and rested on his chest as you kept on crying. However, your words seemed to pull him back to reality. Only after a few seconds of you speaking, Ethan had already rolled the two of you around until he was on top of you. 

You firmly held his stare as you tried to get him off you. For some strange reason, it sent shivers down your spine to see his eyes so full of fear. Ethan was always centered and glued firmly to the Earth. No matter the issue, he was always capable of keeping his cool, but now was far from being the case. His voice trembled as he tried to speak up, “Shut up Y/N! You’ve got no right to blame me for something that is clearly your doing. I have no fucking clue what your stupid letter said but mine said something that has me convinced it was you!”

His accusation was followed by him shoving his crumpled up letter into your face. You had to squint in order to see it better with only the aid of the red light. When you read the words placed at the very bottom, your eyes went wide and immediately looked for his in a desperate attempt to convince him it wasn’t you, but he had his head turned away. You firmly grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie so he’d look into your eyes, “I-I didn’t. Ethan I don’t like you one bit but I’d never. Not this.”

Ethan scoffed and shook his head. He got off you and turned around so his back was facing you, “You know what? I don’t give a shit what you did or didn’t do. I’m going to wash this disgusting stuff off me and report this in the morning.”

“What the hell? Are you crazy? Ethan, we're in the middle of a crime scene. We cannot leave it like this. I mean, look at you! You’re covered in blood because, let me refresh your mind, you fell into a fucking puddle of blood and found a finger!” You flailed your arms around furiously at his stupidity and started followed him the moment he started walking away, “What if this is real?”

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at you, “What is real? A threat that looks like it was written by a thirteen-year-old who just finished reading The Analyst? And the blood… it belongs to an animal for all I care,” He didn’t seem an ounce convinced by the way he took a second to come up with an excuse, and he couldn’t even look you in the eyes, “Besides, what do you want us to say, huh? Oh yeah, sorry. We’re out past curfew because of reasons we can’t tell you and we casually found a disembodied finger lying in a pool of blood. Ah! And I almost forgot the most important detail. We’re being threatened with things that are not only good enough to get us expelled but also get us thrown in jail. But everything is fantastic.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine, do whatever the hell you please.”

Ethan nodded nonchalantly and walked away from you. A long and deep sigh escaped your lips at his stubbornness. You wanted to scream out in frustration at how stupid he was being, but decided it was pointless to stay behind, just in case someone arrived and found you standing there, with your clothes filled with blood. 

——— ☆ • ♧ • • ♧ • ☆ ———

When you arrived back at the dorms, the first thing you did was take a hot shower as you tried to assimilate everything that had happened. Despite the water being so hot it almost burnt your skin, you still spent the whole time shivering and hugging your arms to your body. 

You had washed the blood off the hoodie in one of the sinks and still threw it in the washing machine afterwards. You didn’t know what was going on and part of you was convinced you didn’t want to know. Either way, you weren’t going to risk being roped into a crime investigation as a suspect.

Afterwards, you collapsed into bed. Your whole body was aching and, if it weren’t for the fact that your phone had exploded with notifications after you connected it, you would’ve fallen asleep. You lazily felt around the small bedside table for your phone and picked it up. Most notifications were just memes Will kept sending to the group chat you had. However, you’d also received a message from Ethan.

Upon reading the first few words, you already felt the urge to throw the phone out the window. He was being annoying, not like that was a new thing at all. You responded to the text nonetheless and left the phone back on the bedside table. You turned around in your bed to try and find a spot that was comfortable and cuddled deeper into the sheets. Then, just when you were about to close your eyes, the phone vibrated again. You groaned and picked it up once more. After reading those texts, you were unable to sleep all night.

——— 

You spent the great majority of the night crying and shivering despite being covered by layers and layers of warm blankets. Those few hours before your alarm sounded extended into what seemed like an eternity and you didn’t want to leave the room, afraid you’d find something like what you’d just seen at the oak tree. 

You only managed to sleep for about half an hour before your alarm went off at exactly six AM. Any other day, you would’ve snuggled back into bed for a little longer, but on that particular day, you’d jumped out of bed and hadn’t wasted a second before getting ready. You’d run out of the building to meet your friends at the dining hall, where you were currently at.

Damiano, Rory, Vic, and Will were already sitting at your usual table in front of the large window when you arrived. The curly-haired boy was practicing for a presentation while your three friends listened and made a few comments here and there on things they thought he should change. 

“Good morning everyone,” You murmured, then took a seat in between Damiano and Will, who turned to look at you and frowned, “Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” You nodded and put on the best smile you could manage. Then you stole one of the berries from his plate even though you weren’t hungry at all. 

You turned to look at Rory and Damiano, “Hey Ro, has the new phone you ordered arrived yet?” You questioned. After your conversation with Ethan the previous night, you needed to make sure it wasn’t them who had sent the text. Just the thought alone made you shudder in disgust and fear, but you just took a deep breath in and kept a soft smile on your face as your best friend shook their head.

“Funny that you ask that because yesterday I got an email from the store saying the delivery was going to take longer than expected because of the weather issues, so I gotta survive with this piece of crap for a few more days,” They sighed and placed the cracked phone on the table. You wanted to stop holding back the tears right then and there. Rory’s words were the confirmation that someone else had sent the text and you doubted it was Emilia. As much as you didn’t want to, with each passing second you started to believe the threat was true and that someone had died or was terribly hurt somewhere, and you needed to find them before it was too late to save them. 

Then you remembered another one of Ethan’s texts and had to resist the urge to get up and go search for him because you needed to talk to him as soon as possible. Instead, you distracted yourself by listening to Will’s presentation practice.

You were close to nodding off at some point as he kept on speaking, “Back in earlier civilizations, it was believed that any type of illness was caused by demons and—Hey, Y/N!” You hummed softly as Will called your name. He poked you on the rib and you swatted his hand away, “Are you sure you’re alright? You look terrible.”

“Thank you,” You mumbled sarcastically, “I’m doing fine. I just stayed up working on a project and barely got a wink of sleep,” You let your head rest on Damiano’s shoulder and yawned.

“I wish I were that productive,” Victoria said as she played around with her food. Everyone had insisted on her eating at least a few bites even if she was still sick, “I never do shit.”

Thomas piped into the conversation, catching everyone by surprise as he took a seat next to Victoria, “To be fair, Y/N always complains about feeling half-dead from lack of sleep. I’ll never be crazy enough to sacrifice my sleep for a stupid assignment.”

“Yeah, and that’s why you’re one project away from failing Year 12,” Victoria laughed and Thomas rolled his eyes, “The other day I put him in charge of finishing this essay thing for philosophy and by the time I went back to check on him, he was already asleep. I honestly still wonder how we’re at this school. I would’ve thrown us out a long time ago.”

“Look who’s decided to join us today!” Damiano exclaimed with a large smile on his face as Emilia and Ethan took a seat right in front of you. It was an unusual occurrence for him to eat with you because, well, you were there and he couldn’t shut his mouth for half an hour while you ate, which usually ended in an argument that made the whole table annoyed. 

You frowned at his appearance. He was struggling to keep his dark eyes open and his hand wouldn’t stop shaking. It was very apparent that he hadn’t slept much either from the bags under his eyes and his slow steps. Ethan was almost like a zombie. 

He shook his head the moment his eyes met yours and your shoulders slumped. It hadn’t been Emilia either. You got up from your seat abruptly and walked away from the table without an explanation. You desperately needed a breath of fresh air before you went insane. So with quick steps, you moved down the hall until you reached one of the open windows next to a couch. You let yourself fall onto the couch and tightly shut your eyes as you breathed the fresh air in.

“You seriously need to calm down. Otherwise everyone will start to notice just how suspicious you’re acting,” You sighed at the sound of Ethan’s irritating voice and up straight on the couch. You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hands and looked up at him with an annoyed expression.

“You cannot ask me to calm down after what we saw last night. When will it get into your thick skull that whatever this shit is, it’s real. Those threats were real and if we don’t do something we’re both going to end up in jail, or worse, people are going to die. We don’t know who this psycho is nor what they’re capable of doing. We need to do something now before it’s too late,” The words rushed out of your mouth desperately. The urgency in your tone and your voice quivering as you spoke made his face fall. It wasn’t often that he took you seriously, but by the look in his eyes, you could tell he was just as scared as you were and that was enough to make him shut up and listen to all you had to say.

“Shit Y/N, can you lower your voice? We have no clue at all who could ev—” Before he could even finish the whole sentence, the Head Professor cleared her throat. But your heads snapped in her direction and you gulped in fear at the thought of her overhearing the conversation.

Your heart fell to your stomach the moment she spoke, “Just the two I was looking for. I need you in my office right now.”

Your eyes went wide as you turned to look at Ethan, who already had his head turned in your direction. He nudged his head in the professor’s direction and you both followed her as she walked to her office but stayed a few steps behind.

“This is it, we’re going to jail,” You mumbled loud enough so only Ethan could hear. He hushed you and pulled you along when you stopped walking. People were looking at you as you passed by and that only made you feel worse. You loosened the tie around your neck and gulped.

“We are not going to jail unless you don’t pull it together. Now breathe and keep on walking. I’m not your fucking babysitter,” He whisper-yelled and quickened his pace. You sighed and did the same thing. It surely couldn’t be that bad, could it? You were probably just overreacting and the events of the night before had nothing to do with this impromptu meeting. 

You kept those thoughts in mind as the professor opened the door to the small office and you took a seat on one of the two squeaky chairs. The room smelled clean in a comforting way and you let your shoulders relax as you played with your fingers nervously and looked around the place. 

Her office had always been your favorite out of all the professors’. The place was always warm and during the mornings, you could hear coffee brewing in her old coffee machine in the corner of the room. There were books scattered everywhere and piled in a way that didn’t look messy but inviting. During your first weeks at the academy, when you still hadn’t made any friends, you’d go into her office and read while you sat curled up on the couch and enjoyed the warm and calm atmosphere of the place.

Things used to be so much easier back then and you had no clue how things could’ve changed so fast. Back then your relationship with Ethan was decent and you had no trouble with anyone or anything, now you were being threatened into being framed for murder and being sent to jail.

“You totally forgot about our meeting today, didn’t you?” She asked calmly as she poured coffee into one of her cups, filling the room with the delicious and strong scent. The professor pushed her long dark hair out of her face and straightened out her uniform before sitting down opposite to you, “You looked quite shocked. I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important.”

Ethan sat there, speechless, just like you. But then realization hit you and you realized you were just being paranoid and stupid. She’d told you about this meeting weeks in advance. It was supposed to have something to do with your chance to get the sought-after 100% scholarship to study your career at The Oakes. 

“Nothing important whatsoever,” You replied quickly and sat up straight as you placed both hands on your lap. Ethan copied your actions and tied up his long hair with the black elastic that had been on his wrist.

Your eyes followed the professor as she dumped a small spoonful of sugar and mixed it around with the dark liquid. You couldn’t help but notice her hand shaking as she poured the milk and even spilled a bit of it down the side of the cup. 

She cursed under her breath and apologized as she got up to search for a napkin. With furrowed eyebrows, you shared a look with Ethan, who shrugged. 

“I apologize. I’m afraid I’m quite distracted today, but let’s continue. Shall we?” She smiled sweetly and opened up one of the folders on her desk as she sat back down. She grabbed two papers from inside and placed one in front of each of you. 

You picked it up and examined its content. It seemed to be some sort of permission slip, “So, as I’m sure you both know, our academy offers a program for all our brightest students that gives them the opportunity to continue their college studies with everything paid. You two are the people with the highest grades amongst the whole generation. The semester is—.”

Her words were interrupted by a few quick knocks on the door before a professor pushed it wide open. He couldn’t stop fidgeting with his hands and playing around with his tie as he spoke, “The council wants to have a meeting, professor.”

“I cannot do it right now, I’m—”

“They want to have it now.” 

The professor turned to the two of you nervously and laughed awkwardly. She stood up from the chair after quickly pushing it back, “I’ll see you another day, okay? Meanwhile, please send a scan of that permission slip to your parents and have them sign it, as soon as possible.” 

Once both professors were out of sight and had closed the door, leaving the two of you alone, Ethan spoke, “Something’s wrong.”

“No shit. Neither one could stop shaking. I say we go and try to listen to what the council members are saying,” You suggested and stood up, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you to sit back down.

“We need to go back to the oak tree first. Y/N, if this is all real and there’s something going on, we need to find that body before they do,” He said firmly. Both his tone and stare were serious and you could tell that there was no way in hell he’d take no for an answer. Instead of arguing, you agreed and walked out of the office right behind him, but then you paused as his words registered into your brain, “Why do we have to find it before them?”

He didn’t stop walking to respond, so with a groan you started to walk faster until you were right next to him, “You weren’t even attending the school when it happened,” Ethan began to talk under his breath, so quietly you could barely make out the words he was trying to say, “It was years ago so I cannot remember exactly how the story went. You can ask Thomas though, he has better memory than I do,”

“Either way, there was this boy who’d just gotten into college and during the secret society’s initiation, he was told to climb the highest tower at that campus but he slipped and fell like ten stories. Like I said, it was a secret society that neither the public nor the parents knew about. If the story of what had really happened got out it’d ruin the school and some of the most important students would’ve been sent to jail, so they twisted it to look like a suicide and got away with it. The only reason we know about it is because one of Will’s cousins, the duke, was involved in it all and Will told us all about it.”

“I refuse to believe that’s true. C’mon, it’s Will,” You laughed, “The same guy who convinced everyone in class that your family secretly ran part of the Italian mafia.”

Ethan only shrugged and stopped walking to knock on the door of the greenhouse. You’d left yours at your dorm that morning from how distracted you were, so you had to wait for Mr. Murphy to open up and let you through.

When he finally opened the door, his eyebrows shot up in surprise as he looked at the two of you in confusion, “What in God’s name has happened to get you two in the same place without fighting?” He mocked. You rolled your eyes and shook your head as a smile appeared on your face.

“I assure you, we can both be perfectly civil. Besides, it’s for a homework we need to do. And believe me it’s the last thing I want to be doing,” You lied and walked into the greenhouse with Ethan following behind, “Anyways, we’re gonna go to the lake to get some water and—”

“I’m afraid you cannot go out there,” He interrupted. You frowned at his words and tilted your head to the side.

“Why? Did something happen?”

“Nothing you should care about, kids. Just go to class, yeah? There’s someone coming and if you want to stay out of trouble you better leave before they arrive.”

YOU CAN VOTE ON THIS CHAPTER’S POLL RIGHT HERE. THIS POLL CLOSES AT 12:30 PM CDT ON TUESDAY.

[ksyescribe]

Warmth

Prompt: A nightmare has you rushing out of your room in an effort to escape your thoughts. You just don’t expect to find him at your door.

Ship: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Content: Hurt/Comfort??? I don’t know honestly, they both work through some of their stuff

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: This stupid fucking idea WOULD NOT LEAVE ME ALONE. I honestly wanted to drop it so badly but instead. It kept pestering me. Now here we are. It’s probably VERY rough but I hope you guys live it nonetheless :’)

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Your lungs are filled with smoke.

Breathing hurts. You feel like you’re burning inside out.

You can hear the crackling of the fire in the distance but you can’t find it in you to care.

You’re too focused on the scene in front of you.

Shoji, Midoriya, and Todoroki stand ahead of you confronting the villains who attacked the training camp.

You’re hidden behind one of the thickest trees you could find, waiting for an opening to launch your own personal attack.

Then you see it.

An opening.

The villains start hopping into their respective portals and then...

Dabi and Compress monologuing to your classmates.

Had this been any other time you’d roll your eyes. Perhaps taunt them at the way they fit every stereotypical villain trope.

But this isn’t any other time. So you move fast.

Without thinking too much you launch forward, your quirk turning you into a burning projectile.

As you move through the air, pieces of ice suddenly appear in front of you. They’re no match for the heat enveloping your body right now. In mere seconds, they’re puddles on the ground as you move forward.

All around you, you can hear the sounds of the battle below but you pay no mind to it. Instead focusing on the villains. Your brain calculating the angle you’d have to shift to to be able to capture them and avoid going through the portal.

But then, something unexpected happens.

Aoyama’s laser shoots through the bushes. The three boys scramble forward. Shoji catches on orb. Todoroki’s snubbed by Dabi.

And then...

Bakugou’s mere inches in front of you.

Somehow, your fire burns stronger.

No longer a sharp orange but instead a bright purple.

You’ve maxed out your temperature limit.

You can’t bring yourself to care.

Not when Bakugou’s right in front of you.

You stretch out your hand, desperately trying to reach him.

Bakugou, his eyes ever resilient, still hold a trace of fear.

You push, surpassing the limits of your quirk that were already being pushed to the brim.

Your body screams in agony, but with Bakugou still in front of you, you fight it.

That still doesn’t deter the scream of agony that seems to be bubbling up through your throat. You can’t stop that, but you can alter it somehow.

“Bakugou!” Your scream is raw pain. You pour every ounce of the pain you feel into it as your quirk continues to burn you alive.

All of your body is on fire except one part. Your right hand.

The one outstretched towards Bakugo.

The one that brushes against his fingertips for a split second.

Then, nothing.

The warp gate is gone. Bakugou gone with it.

A wail of agony slips through your clenched teeth. And as you slam into the wall of trees that stood behind the warp gate another scream of pain rips itself from your mouth.

Everything burns. Your body, your pride, your heart.

You exhausted yourself, damaged your body, and put yourself through hell all just to let Bakugou slip away.

You can’t help the cries that you let out. Ear piercing wails, heavy with pain and agony.

You can hear people calling your name but all you can do is let out sobs. And then suddenly you feel your flames rile themselves up again.

You try to bite it back but suddenly a scream makes its way up your throat and then-

Suddenly you’re shooting up, tumbling from your bed onto the floor. You gasp for air as your eyes start to focus on the dark room around you.

The familiar surroundings of your UA dorm room slowly come back into focus. Coughing, you swivel your head around, your eyes passing over the familiar pieces of furniture and decor that decorate your room.

Turning back to the floor, you close your eyes and attempt to even out your breathing again. Slowly you take deep breaths.

I’m safe. I’m at UA I’m safe. No one can hurt me here. I’m safe.

You repeat this mantra to yourself, over and over again as your breathing evens out. You sit back, bringing your knees up to your chest as your heartbeat begins to simmer down as well.

The Training Camp. Kamino. Bakugou.

They plague your mind when you’re awake and your dreams when you’re asleep. It seems no matter what you try you can’t escape them. You take in a shaky breath as you squeeze your eyes shut.

It’s all over. You’re all safe and accounted for. Bakugou’s back safely. This is a win for you, so what are you so worried about?

But it’s not a win. In fact, this is the furthest thing from it. At best, it’s a stalemate. At worst, well a rather crushing defeat.

Parts of Kamino ward were left decimated, the entire ward nearly destroyed. And with it went All Might as well, no longer a Symbol of Peace.

You rubbed the heels of your palms against your eyes before slowly standing up. Your throat was scratchy, your head hurt, it was way too stuffy in this room. You had to get out for a bit. Maybe some fresh air would help clear your head. Maybe.

Pulling on a light hoodie, slippers and your water bottle you make your way out of your room.

Well, you would have been leaving your had you not found someone outside preparing to knock on your door.

Donning his trademark black tank top and sweats combo, Bakugou freezes in front of you as you open the door. His eyes are widen at your sudden appearance, fist paused mid way through the air, as he blinks trying to regain his composure.

It’s the first time either of you have seen each other since the training camp. You take in his appearance, paying close attention to the exposed skin on his arms. All things considered, he look good, healthy even. No new scars or injuries as far as you can see.

Your analysis of Bakugou’s physical state is interrupted by a choked sound. Your eyes immediately focus on his face, expecting him to be sporting an expression of pain. Instead, his eyes are wider than before, with his mouth slightly agape as he zeroes in on an area of your body. Following his gaze, you feel your face heat up as you realize what he’s staring at.

In your hurry to leave, you hadn’t placed your sweater on properly. The right sleeve had slid down to your elbow, revealing white bandages that encased your arm and your shoulders. 

Bakugou could see that they didn’t just end there. In fact, on closer inspection, he saw that the bandages disappeared beneath your clothing. From what he’d heard, it was more likely that they wrapped the entirety of your body. Awkwardly you pull the sleeve back up around your shoulder, zipping it up the middle to hide the rest of your body away. Bakugou observes your actions, the muscles in his jaw twitching.

Clearing his throat, he breaks the silence, “Can I, uh, come in?”

You find yourself nodding before you speak up, “Yeah sure. I’m just going to get some water really qui-”

He holds up a single finger, “Wait here.”

Nodding slowly, you watch in confusion as Bakugou walks briskly down the hallway. Not even a minute later, he’s making his way back up the hall towards you, two water bottles in his possession. 

“Can we talk now?” 

You nod silently, moving back to let him into your room. After he’s brushed past you, you close the door quietly. Setting down your bottle, you walk over to the balcony, opening the doors to let a bit of fresh air into the room.

“I hope you don’t mind,” you mutter as you push the doors to the side, “but I was also going to get some fresh air.”

Bakugou lets out a hum of acknowledgment, “Hard time sleeping?” 

You offer him a small one-sided smile, “Yeah. Something like that.”

You take a seat on the floor, your back pressed up against one of the cold glass doors of the balcony. Bakugou comes over to sit next to you, a sigh escaping from his lips as his skin touches the glass. Silently he hands you one of the bottles he brought before. With a quiet thanks, you unscrew the cap and take small sips of water, relishing the moisture that it provides your otherwise dry mouth. 

Silence envelops your room, the only sound coming from the rustle of the leaves as the wind passes by. You close your eyes for a second, letting the fresh air wash over you, enjoying how it filters past your clothing to ease your warm skin. 

Next to you, Bakugou takes in a small breath of air before speaking, “I heard what you did.”

Your eyes are still closed. The scenes of the forest flash behind your eyelids as Bakugou continues to talk.

“They told me you nearly killed yourself trying to save me.” He tries to keep his tone even, but tension slowly begins to fill the room. With a topic like this, avoiding difficult conversations is near impossible.

You swallow another sip of water, fingers instinctively tightening around the plastic bottle. Trying to save face, you let out a small laugh, “It wasn’t even that bad,” you say, waving off Bakugou’s concern, “They’re just exaggerating.”

Bakugou knows you too well to fall for your tricks. You’ve done this before, waving off other’s concerns only to land yourself in dangerous situations. He’s not letting you get off so easily this time. Especially not with the current state of your body. 

A scoff falls from his lips, “So I guess the bandages are just for show then? New aesthetic you’re trying out?” 

You pinch the bridge of your nose, “Bakugou,” you start off slowly, “I’m fine. They’re just skin wounds. They’ll heal over time.”

“Just skin wounds!? Are you listening to yourself right now?” 

You sigh, too tired to have a battle with him over the severity of your injuries. Is it not enough that you have to suffer through the process of healing? According to the universe, it wasn’t, so they sent Bakugou here to scold you. 

“You were burning alive when they found you,” he hissed, the temperature in the room rising. “That stupid bastard’s ice couldn’t even cool you down. You were melting right through it.” 

A heavy sigh, then, “Not to mention, your body was literally fighting itself. Patches of skin trying to use the heat to repair itself and other parts kept lighting themselves up, thinking that your quirk was still in use.”

Heavy breaths fill the room until finally, Bakugou’s voice drops, “You were out cold for five days. Three of those days, they spent accommodating the shifting temperatures of your body. Two other days were spent with special healers to see if they could repair the damage done to your skin.”

“You almost died.” His voice trembles at the end of the sentence. You hear him take a shaky breath, rubbing your hands over your face trying to ease the hurricane of emotions you felt.

You hear shuffling, and suddenly you’re being pulled forward and into a solid, warm body. His arms wrap around you, maneuvering you gently so that your chests press into each other. Your head rests on his shoulder as his hands rub reassuring circles against your back. Your arms come around his back, pulling him closer to you while you breathe in his familiar scent.

“And then,” he mumbles, “I come back just to find you avoiding me.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” you murmur into his neck. 

“Yeah? So you just happened to avoid the common areas every single time I was there?” 

You breathe in, about to answer him before he interjects, “And don’t say it was just a coincidence because I saw you peeking your head around corners trying to see if I was still around.”

You sigh frustratedly, “I just didn’t want you to see me like this. I knew you were going to blame yourself for it.”

Bakugo, somehow, pulls you closer, “That’s because it is my fault.” He presses his face into the crook of your neck, doing his best to stifle the words. But it’s too late. You’ve already heard them. 

You pull away just a bit, pushing back against Bakugou’s chest breaking the contact between you. He lets out a sound of displeasure at the loss of contact but ultimately holds your gaze. You raise a hand up, cradling his face as you look at him. 

“This wasn’t your fault,” you begin, shaking your head as you continue, “This was my body. My own quirk did this to me. I pushed myself past my limit. That’s on me.”

Bakugou’s eyes drop to the space between you, refusing to meet your gaze. You feel his body tense up below you, his hands tightening in the fabric of your clothing as he glared downward.

“They were after me. They attacked the training camp looking for me. Kamino was demolished because they were saving me. You pushed yourself past your limit because of me!”

Below you, you can feel the tremors that take hold of his body. Cautiously you use your hand to tilt his head up. His eyes were watery, blinking continuously to prevent tears from slipping out. Still, one managed to slip out, making a slow descent on the slopes of his face. Using your free hand, you wiped the tear away before cradling his head. Slowly you brought his head forward, tilting it downward as you pressed a small kiss to his forehead before pulling back. 

“This isn’t your fault Bakugou,” you stroke his cheek as you continue, “Things were about to hit the fan sooner or later. Everyone felt that. It’s something that was bound to happen. It could’ve happened anywhere, to anyone. This isn’t on you.”

Bakugou holds your gaze for a moment before nodding. His face turns downward once again as the tears flow freely. You’re there, wiping away gently with the sleeves of your wrist as you cradle his head, planting small kisses on his forehead. You hold him, comforting him and murmuring reassuring words as he lets out the emotions he’d been harboring for days. His hold on you never falters. 

Time passes as the two of you hold each other, making up for lost time. Bakugou’s shaking has simmered down into soft trembles. His forehead is pressed into your neck as he takes deep breaths, calming himself after his emotional release. Your hands rake through his head slowly as you continue to leave the occasional kiss on his forehead. 

He takes a shuddering breath, “What happens now?” 

He pulls back to look at you. Red rimmed eyes gaze at you, framed by furrowed eyebrows as he looks to you for an answer.

You sigh deeply, “We train. We grow. We get stronger.” 

You pull one of his hands into yours, interlacing your fingers together, “So we’ll be ready the next time they come.”

Next time. 

God. Could you handle a next time? Could he? You both know that the League is far from done with their meddling. They could come back at any moment. With stronger players and perhaps strong allies. And yet…

Bakugou nods at you, eyes determined, “Next time. We’ll be ready.”

His tone is infectious, and you find yourself nodding back at him. 

Quietly, the two of you begin to untangle yourselves and rise together. 

His hands come to rest on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles on the fabric of your sweats. You smile gently as you decipher the look on his face.

“Bakugou?” 

He hums in response, eyes meeting yours again. 

“Could you stay the night? I’ll, uh, sleep better if I know you’re safe with me.”

He nods, one of his hands moving to cradle your face, “Of course.”

He tugs you towards the bed, “Let’s go to bed.”

[littlesparkyabdl]

Adventures In The Little Hotel

It was a legend in this old town of Hollow, the legend of the haunted hotel atop the mountain peak.

The legends claimed those who dared enter would never want to leave or more so accurately were made to stay, with only one being able to leave to let the legend spread.

This brings us to our heros of this story, Kyle, Zack and Evan, Each of these boys were part of the supernatural investigation squad. Their goal was simple, prove the existence of the supernatural and become famous world wide. But will their goals be accomplished in this adventure, the only way to tell is to follow their tale.

First we venture to Evan, a pale boy who constantly surfs the web for any scoop he can find, eyes as blue as the sky and hair a sparkling brown. With his new scoop of the haunted hotel he quickly contacted his comrades to inform them of his discovery that was buried with the elders of the town, with only whispers ever being heard.

Next we’re brought to Zack, the tallest of the group with hair as black as the night and his grey eyes glistening with hope. Zack was constantly beaming with hope when searching for the supernatural, its one of the few thing he ever gained an interest in. He isn't the smartest of the group but if he weren't there the group would of given up a long time ago.

And finally we come to Kyle, a tanned boy who was short in stature but made up for it with his intelligence, his hair black with three grey streaks running down the side, his eyes a dull silver. He always would say he was just with the group to prove that the supernatural doesn't exist but in reality he completely believed in it.

With each of the boys contacted and rearing to go they decided to meet at their usual spot, a small cafe near the edge of the town, with each of the boys ordering a milkshake before they venture onto their quest. Kyle with the chocolate, Evan with the strawberry and Zack with the orange. With their drinks consumed they could begin their adventure, they begin making their way down the street through the dark wood path, trees guiding them to their destination.

“T-this place is awfully creepy, and we aren't even in the hotel yet” proclaimed Zack with a slight stutter, his pace slowing down slightly.

“Quit being a coward, This is surely going to be our scoop of the century!” responded Evan.

“For someone who’s supposed to be excited about ghosts you sure do scare easily Zack” said Kyle in a demeaning tone

“Me scared! As if!” responded Zack trying to be manly but failing as he trips on a crack in the path, falling face first into the ground with his baggy pants slowly falling down to reveal his Barney printed briefs.

Giggles were heard from the other two boys seeing the oldest of the group wearing such childish underwear, With Zack hurrying to his feat pulling his pants back up he said to the others in a flustered tone “I-its not like you two wear anything more mature!”

“compared to what you wear anything would be considered mature” Kyle remarked with more giggles coming from Evan

With the situation dying down they started to continue their way to the haunted hotel, they reach the bottom of the mountain and look to see what looks to be an endless staircase going up the mountain with the end barely in sight, the stairs were large and made of wood, able to break at any moment with being as old as they were. As they finish examining the stairs they start to venture forth and make their way up one step at a time, though if they paid more attention they would of noticed the bus that used the road to get to the top of the mountain, though it was hardly ever used.

Going up each step creeks and cracks were heard, with scuttering coming from the bushes lining the mountain. If you looked closely into the darkness you would see small critters scattering about with eyes seeming to glimmer through the lights that were laid out so sparse through the mountains stairs, just enough to see the steps but blinded to everything else.

10 minutes into the journey of the stairs the boys came to a stop needing a break, who knew it would be so difficult to get to the top. As they came to a stop Zack soon noticed his bladder calling for release.

“err… guys I haffa pee…” Zack said as he started to hold onto his crotch.

“heh, my next biggest scoop will be proving Zack to be a pants wetter” came Evan in a sly tone.

“everyone already knows that though, not much of a scoop If ya ask me.” came Kyle with a taunting tone.

“h-hey! I’m not the one that couldn’t stop wetting the bed until I was 10” Zack said in response while flustered.

“now that is a scoop worth reporting on” Evan said in a humours tone.

“y-you weren’t supposed to tell anyone about that!” Came Kyle in a whiney tone.

“technically I didn’t…” Zack responded with with slight guilt in his voice

“how about we have some fun, whoever pees them self first, gets to carry all of our stuff the rest of the way up the mountain and it gets reported in the paper. Of course it wont be all the way up as we should start walking up again soon otherwise we wont get there until morning ” said Evan in a taunting manner knowing full well both would accept.

As if on cue both the other boys said “your on!” and so their journey up the stairs continued after their 5 minute break.

As their journey continued up the stairs it wasn’t even 10 minutes before a whimper was heard coming from one of the boys. With both Evan and Zack looking back they saw what was happening, Kyles legs wobbled as he slowly fell to his knees his bladder giving out and a puddle forming. As this happened a storm came out of nowhere, thunder heard and lightning struck. All bets where off as Zack and Evan helped Kyle from his vulnerable position, the three boys hurried up the rest of the stairs though they seemed to reach the top quicker than they though they would, in fact had had it that it would of taking another 30 minutes to reach the hotel but they made it in 10.

As the boys quickly approached the door they took in the damp surroundings of the hotel, withered plants broken stone paths wooden fencing waiting to give way to the storm. It was a gloomy looking place though the lack of lighting didn’t help.

As they went to open the door it opened on its own, a light forming from the entrance as a ghastly man was waiting at the entrance. The man was pale and had a chill around him, he was dressed as a butler. He must be the caretaker of this old place the boys thought, though if they paid a little more attention they would realise that the light coming form inside the building wasn’t shown through the windows, it was as if it was and entrance to another world.

“welcome home young masters” came the voice of the strange looking man.

“home?” all the boys questioned in unison.

“it is how we greet all our guests at this hotel of ours, I shall be your guide tonight. I am the butler for the lord of this building” the man said now announcing himself as a butler for the estate.

Looking at the boys the man could smell a faint smell of urine coming from one of the boys, maybe two of them he thought.

“hurry inside before you catch a cold” the butler stated as he hurried them in. Little did they know this would be what sealed their fate for their future.

As the boys entered the building they quickly dropped their bags, and quickly dried off with the towels provided by the maids that seemed to appear from nowhere.

“quite the unexpected welcome, I thought this place was supposed to be haunted.” said Evan as he took in the surroundings.

“well the building was supposed to be abandoned” said Kyle taking note of the sudden his his surroundings also.

“who cares, we’re wet and still need a bath these towels will only do so much” said Zack not paying too much attention to anything as his hair poofed up from the rain.

“young masters we do have a shared bathing area available for use, its already filled with warm water. We will also bring a change of clothes for you lot to use. I’m sure our options will please you all.” said the butler as he started to guide them to the bathing area without giving it much thought.

As the boys were guided to the bathing area the maids took their bags and moved them into storage.

As the butler arrived at the bathing area with the boys he motioned to the changing area and said “your new clothes will be placed in here and your old ones will be washed thoroughly.”

Zack was the first to go charging in excited to get a warm bath, he was surprised that this place wasn’t scary in fact he found it rather relaxing.

“if I didn’t know better id think he was a kid with how he acts.” came Kyle with a sigh.

“he has the right idea though plus you do smell from your incident earlier…” came Evan wincing at the odour coming from his friend. “though it isn't as bad now that Zack went away…” Evan noted to himself.

“w-whatever! Lets just get in the bath” Kyle responded while turning as red as a tomato.

“well you probably wanna get changed first” Evan said with in a cocky tone with a smirk forming on his face.

“young masters if you would please hurry as you friend is probably getting lonely without you” the butler said with a sigh noticing that these boys are probably going to cause some trouble if their not disciplined.

The two boys joined Zack in the changing area, with Zack already down to his Barney briefs.

“What took you two so long” asked Zack as he attempted to cover the front of his briefs to avoid his friends from seeing a pee stain.

“i wouldn’t bother hiding your little accident, I can already smell it from here” came Evan in a sly tone as he started to strip from his fairly raggy clothes.

“w-when did you find out!” came Zack in a pouty tone stomping his foot a little, and putting his arms to the side forgetting about his current predicament.

“when you left to get changed first, the smell wasn’t as bad” said Evan in a teasing tone.

Kyle remained silent as he removed his shorts and vest revealing a light blue pair of briefs, though not as childish as Zack he got a few giggles from the boys and a few maids passing by the changing rooms, again the maids appearing from nowhere.

Both Zack and Kyle blushed as they heard the maids and tried to cover themselves with their hands, though this only made them look more childish than before.

As Evan stripped he was left in nothing but a paid a boxer briefs, they were snug against his body and fit him fairly well, they were black and made from a fairly stretchy material.

The boys in unison stripped of their underwear revealing their privates too each other, they hadn't bathed together since they were young so some changes had been made, well perhaps not for Zack he was still lacking in the growth department.

The boys ventured into the bathing area from the changing room, steam filled the air from the heat of the bath and a sweet aroma filled the air. Each of the boys started to relax in the bath taking in the sweet scent almost going into a trance like state, that was until and even stronger aroma was starting to flow into the room.

Zack was the first one to get up, following the pleas of his nose he followed the scent until he was stopped by his friends.

“aren't you forgetting something Zack?” Kyle said while pointing to Zacks lower half.

“i have to agree going around like that wont look good for us yaknow, how will we get a scoop if people become creeped out by us!” Came Evan in an annoyed tone.

As if on cue Zack flared a bright red as he quickly grabbed a towel and covered himself up.

“heh… my bad” came Zack in a sheepish tone.

“young masters is everything alright, I heard a commotion?” Came the butler as he entered the changing area with their new clothes.

“someone forgot he was naked and tried to run all over the place” came Evan answering the butlers question.

The butler sighed as he glanced over the boys “it seems he isn’t the only one who forgot they weren’t wearing anything, ill have to fix this myself” he said too himself but loud enough for the boys to hear.

Kyle and Evan both blushed once they realised they were on full display.

“wait… how will you handle it?” came Kyle in a curious tone.

As soon as he asked Kyles arm was grabbed by the butler, he was put into a pair of power ranger training pants, a dinosaur tshirt and a blue set of shortalls. Kyle blushed as the butler handled him with such expertise as if he had done it before.

“lets see, hmm you’ll be next” the butler said as he grabbed Zack, also putting him into a pair of training pants though these were Barney themed just like his old briefs, he was surprised they came in his size but his surprise was cut short when he was put into a dinosaur onesie and a pair of overalls though these ones seemed to have buttons tailing the inseam of the leg.

“a-aren’t these a bit babyish…” asked Zack while blushing at his current attire.

“they suit you quite well and I’m certain you enjoy them” said the butler with a grin, “you two may of also noticed the padding built into your new undies, this is to prevent any further accidents while your at the manor” the butler said while moving over to Evan.

“i can dre-” Evan said before he got cut off by the butler grabbing him and putting him into a pair of sonic briefs.

“it seems your slightly more mature than the two piddle pants so I’m allowing you the privilege of normal undies, don’t mess it up” the butler said as he then put Evan into a pair of blue shorts and a t-shirt with a large star on the front.

Each of the boys were left blushing from their current experience, they hadn’t been dressed by someone since they were kids, not to mention the clothes they were wearing it made them look like children.

“this certainly wasn’t the scoop I was expecting…” Evan said to himself with a sigh before starting to giggle to himself.

“what’s so funny?” Zack and Kyle said in unison before they themselves started to laugh at themselves and each other.

This wasn’t how they were expecting the night to go, sure they expected someone to wet themselves but the change of clothes, the change of undies it was all completely unexpected to them. Once their laughter had died down they started making their way to the dining area, to their surprise the room was  huge, surely all these large sized rooms couldn’t fit on the first flow Evan thought to himself before the smell of food started to flood the room.

As if it were magic the tables were all set, red and white cloths draped over the tables with a golden trim, the silver cutlery was displayed at each seat and there was more tables that what they’d expect. You could fit at least 300 people in the dining area easily.

As the boys went to pick their own seat they were picked up by the maids, once again appearing out of nowhere and carried over too a set of plastic tables and chairs, they were clearly meant for children to sit at, the table was red and the seats came in a variety of colours.

“Hey! What are you doing!” shouted all the boys in unison, the maids lets out a ghastly giggle before saying in unison “children always eat here” it echoed through the room as a silence feel when they spoke, the boys sat in silence.

Zack remained still scared at their response, it was as if they were all one entity he though to himself.

Kyle simply thought they had rehearsed it the the thought of the undead did cross his mind.

Evan was simply mentally taking notes, he was almost positive this is what he was looking for though his mind thought process started to change once food was set onto their plastic tables.

The food laid out were varied from meats to vegetables and even fruits, the maids provided plastic plates for the boys as set good portions onto each of them, a nice chunk of broccoli, some carrots and peas. Then came the meat, dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets with slices of ham to the side. The fruit was left in a bowl for the boys to help themselves too.

“this meal is awfully… healthy…” Zack said to himself, he normally ate burgers, fries and pizza. He certainly wasn’t the healthiest when it came to food but he still had a slim frame from all the ghost hunting he did.

“its seems better than what I get at home” said kyle, he wasn’t a healthy eater though it wasn’t by choice he just didn’t have the funds to buy healthy food, though thinking of fund a thought came into his head. “how are we going to pay for all this” Kyle said realising their money was in their old clothes.

“this is all on the house” came the familiar voice of the butler as he approached them from behind.

“the master and mistress of the estate shall be joining us tonight, you should count yourselves lucky you got a change of clothes. If you remained in your… how do I put it… rags, yes rags. You surely would have been punished. They have a very strict dress code for young masters such as yourselves” said the butler glancing over them all with a devilish smile.

As soon as the butler finished talking a rather well dressed couple entered the room, the lady was dressed in a dress that looked as if it were for royalty it had a golden trim along all the edges, her hair was long and blond with what seemed to be golden jewels tying it up. The man was dressed in a nice fitting black suit accompanied with a red tie. Then following them were multiple sets of young men dressed similarly to the first man though they were in a blue suit instead of black, they also had a bow tie instead of a regular tie.

“these must be the new boys I requested” said the Lady “you lot can call me mother, just like the rest of my boys do. We are all a family here do you understand” she said in a commanding voice.

The three boys just nodded knowing that if they messed up something bad would happen.

“I’m sure they will be warmly welcome into our family” said the man in black, “you can call me either sir, farther or daddy. do you boys understand?” asked the man in black sternly.

The boys once again nod in unison.

“i said do you understand! I expect you to steak when I speak to you” shouted the man in black

“yes daddy!” came Zack with a blush as he realised what he said.

“yes sir!” came both Kyle and Evan, both of them noticing that Zack said daddy the least mature of the options.

“good boys” the man in black said, grinning at Zacks response knowing he hit gold with this new set of boys.

With greeting finished the woman and the man in black head to their table, it was much larger than the rest and had two chairs that looked as if they were thrones. They are the first too sit down other than the boys as they were the first to arrive, and the babies of the house weren't expected to stand.

Once the Mistress and the Master have sat down the rest of the men follow their example and sit at the remaining tables.

“Henry, what’s being served today” asked the Mistress to the butler.

“today we will be serving smoked chicken with a vegetable soup and bread on the side mistress Helena” came the butler now known as Henry.

“how come none of us asked his name” came Zack while stuffing his face with the chicken dinosaurs.

“h-how can you be eating at a time like this!” came Kyle realising the trouble their in.

“if we don’t hurry we might be stuck at this estate for god knows how long, I don’t know about you guys but I don’t think this scoop is worth that!” Said Evan starting to realise they may be stuck here for more than one night.

“who cares they’ll probably let us go once we start some trouble” said Zack while pushing the rest of his food away until a slap came to his wrist by one of the maids, this quickly made him eat the rest of his food.

“we can talk about this later” said Kyle in an agitated tone, he knew something was fishy about these people but he didn’t know what yet.

“i agree though id prefer we get out of hear as soon as possible” said Evan before he started to eat his food

Helena and the man in black smirked as the boys ate the food, knowing it was finalising what they needed.

Once dinner was over each of the boys started to feel drowsy and it was starting to show.

“maids take the boys to their room” ordered Helena as she stood up and wiped her hands of the food.

Once ordered the maids did as told and picked up each of the boys, the maids seemed to have inhuman strength as normal maids wouldn’t be able to pick up boys that were this size, though perhaps not so for Kyle, he was both small and light as so not much strength would be needed for him. The maids walked up the stairs and went into a singular room decorated with blue walls with a cloud pattern on them, an extremely large bed big enough to fit 5 people, plushes covering one side of the room and what looked to be a changing table on the other side of the room.

Each of the boys were placed on the bed and is if on cue fell asleep instantly, though if they were awake they would notice that the hotels walls outside their room started to move, doors shifted and some vanished never to be seen again.

As the night grew longer and longer the boys started to awaken, though as they awoke each of them bent over noticing a crippling cramp in their stomachs as they went to leave the bed to find a bathroom bars shot up preventing them from escaping.

The shock from the bars sudden movement made Zack jump back distracting him from his stomach, as soon as that happened a foul smell filled the air and his overalls starting to grow in the back, a warm feeling spread across his backside the smell knocking the others dizzy. It was that dizziness that caused the other two boys to fall victim to their stomachs pleas.

each of the boys passed out from the smell not knowing if they would wake up again.

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober Day 18

Panic Attacks

Ao3

Warnings: panic attacks, referenced past character death, referenced past rape/non-con, recreational drug use, triggers, Dick Grayson Having Unresolved Trauma

-o-o-o-o-

It's a quiet night. One that has Dick wondering if he really needed to stay out as long as he did before returning to his apartment from patrol. Blüdhaven, in a rather out of character manner, decided to give him an easy one tonight. Just run-of-the-mill crime. Muggings. Theft. Sexual harassment. No huge underground schemes or plots being executed within the walls of a warehouse, as unbelievable as it sounds.

Just a good old fashioned patrol with good old fashioned criminals which ended up with Dick returning home to collapse onto his couch, his muscles burning from a good workout instead of a tussle. He spent a solid thirty minutes just going through his phone until his stomach reminded him that he's hungry. He should probably get some food… and get out of his Nightwing suit. He jumps up from the couch and heads towards the kitchen, planning what to make based on the limited amount of ingredients that he has. 

His kitchen always seems to be so empty, and he always forgets to buy more things. But that's okay, he manages. So long as he doesn't starve, he can deal with eggs and toast for breakfast and dinner. 

He takes his gloves off his fingers and sets them down by the sink before he washes his hands. It would be really bad if someone walked in right now, but his blinds are all closed and his door is supplied with Bruce Approved™ locks, so he's really not all that worried. He's too lazy right now to head towards his room and change. 

He goes to the fridge and begins to take out the eggs, humming under his breath. He cracks the eggs into a saucepan, dumps in a handful of cheese, then goes to his cupboard to find he's all out of bread.

And… that's okay. Eggs and cheese with some syrup is satisfying in its own way. 

He returns to his eggs, stirring the meal with a wooden spoon. 

He's about to turn off the heat to the stove when he gets the feeling that something was… wrong. Or maybe, there was always something wrong, and he’s just now noticing it. There's a tense feeling in his ribs that has him taking a deeper inhale to catch his breath. Is he forgetting something? 

Eggs… cheese… no bread… gloves on the counter… oh yeah. He shakes his head and turns off the stove, feeling like an idiot within the walls of his own home. He goes to grab a plate while ignoring the tightness of his ribcage—must just be sore from patrol. That's all. 

Eating dinner isn't as enjoyable as he thought it would be. He keeps having to shift every two or three second to place a hand on his lower ribs, just to make sure he hasn't cracked or strained anything. He presses and pokes, but nothing feels wrong. He takes a deep breath, expanding his lungs as far as they can go in-between bites, but all the good it does is make his heart beat faster. 

His heart… is beating really fast. Pounding. So much so that when he puts his hand on his chest he can almost feel it thumping through his skin. 

He forces himself to finish the eggs before standing up and bringing his plate towards the sink. He looks at his gloves just sitting there, adding to the mess that is his sink. There's dirty dishes, not a whole lot, but just enough that has him looking down at the dish in his hand and sighing. He should clean up. He had time to. 

He doesn't have the energy to all of a sudden.

He places his plate in the sink then grabs his gloves. Rubbing his ribs, he walks towards the medicine cabinet. He really can't think of what would be making them hurt like this unless it was just soreness. He doesn't particularly remember taking any hits to the chest while on patrol tonight, but things happen. He wakes up with bruises he can't remember where he got all the time. 

Maybe he took a hit to the chest and just doesn't recall. It's possible. Adrenalin makes you forget stuff.

He opens the cabinet, now making a conscious effort to keep his breathing even, and looks over the bottles he has stuffed in here. Why does it feel so much like something is wrong? Like he's missing something? He can't think of what would cause him to feel like this so late at night. Maybe it's just the stress of having to wake up tomorrow for work. 

His eyes land on the Advil and he once again makes an attempt to even his breathing. He grabs the bottle, opens it, and taps the little red pills into his hands. Two should be enough. Two is usually enough. A little chest pain doesn't call for three. 

Two little red pills sit in his hand, and for a second he thinks they might be white. 

He blinks. Shakes his head. He returns the bottle to the cabinet and returns to his messy sink in his messy kitchen in his messy apartment to get a glass of water. 

He goes to find a cup, and then stands uselessly as he finds his cabinet empty of clean cups. 

He needs to wash one. 

With tremors running down his hands, he places the red pills down onto the counter and grabs a cup. He pumps soap onto the sponge and quickly rinses the cup out. He fills it with water, grabs the pills, then stops.

Two little red pills. His heart pounds. His chest aches. He blinks and breathes harshly in and out like the air is thin. It feels thin. He forces his hand towards his mouth, then stops right before the white pill—red pills red pills, it's Advil—can touch his lips. 

He has just a second to realize that oh, he's having a panic attack, before it crashes into him.

He slams his hands against the counter, gasping and practically tossing the pills away from him. He lets go of the cup and he's sure it crashes to the ground to shatter, but he can barely concentrate over the tunneling thoughts of I'm having a panic attack I'm having a panic attack why and I having a panic attack I'm having a panic attack-

He tries to get a hold of himself, forcing his legs to remain standing even though he wants to collapse. He can't breath. The air is so thin, and his chest hurts so badly. What were the things he was supposed to do to get out of a panic attack?

He can't think. He can taste the powdery residue of pills on his tongue even though he didn't even put any in his mouth yet. 

He gasps for air. His ears ring and he can only stare wide-eyed at nothing. 

In what feels like forever, but was probably only a couple minutes, he slowly begins to get a hold of himself. Slowly, he's able to twitch his fingers and shuffle his feet and claim a gasp of air that isn’t short and impossible to take. 

The moment his brain connects back to the present reality, it's all he can do to not launch into another panic attack at with the realization that he's just had an honest to fucking God panic attack for no reason. 

He brings a hand to his chest and keeps the other flat on the counter, left there to keep him stable as he leans forward. He forces himself to control his breathing. As he does, his eyes slide to the two red pills discarded about a foot from his splayed fingers, both slowly dissolving in little puddles of water left on the counter. 

He vaguely recognizes that he might have been triggered into having a panic attack. Triggered. Which... isn't something he's really had claim to having before. A trigger. Sure, things make him uncomfortable. Sometimes things cause him to get sick to his stomach and leave the room. Sometimes he sees a baseball bat and his heart quickens. Sometimes he sees a woman force herself onto a man and any food in his stomach wants to rise. And sure, taking pills have never been something he's particularly enjoyed doing ever since… ever since. But none of these things have ever caused him to lose control like this before.

And besides, the tight feeling in his chest started before he went to the medicine cabinet. Something else gave him enough anxiety to cause this. The pills just tossed him over the edge. 

Now that he thinks of that… he's not sure if that's good or bad. 

It's one thing to have a trigger. It's another to have a panic attack for absolutely no fucking reason. 

Jesus. His chest still hurts. Breathing still hurts. His feet… he looks down and almost sighs at how ridiculous it is. He's stepped in glass. Water is all over his floor. 

He takes a stiff deep breath. The first one in what feels like forever. He doesn't have any energy to bend down to clean the shattered glass, water, and his own blood from his tiled floor. He wants to go to his bed, climb under the comforter, and blast rain noises until his ribs stop aching and his heart stops pounding. Until he's falling into a dreamless sleep. Until he's unconscious enough to not exist in a world where Lex Luthor stopped his heart, where Two-Face beat him with a baseball bat, where Joker didn't kill Jason, where Catalina never- 

His phone's ringing. Over on the table, where he had finished eating just a few minutes before. 

His spirits instantly lift, and he vaguely realizes it's because he now has something to be distracted by. He pushes himself from the counter and carefully steps over the glass and water, walking on the sides of his feet to avoid treading on more glass or spreading any blood for him to clean up later, and grabs his phone. He places it to his ear without even looking at the caller ID.

"Yeah?" he asks, breathless. 

"Dick! I'm glad you're still up-" Tim's voice. Tim. Timmy. Timmy who's alive and healthy sans spleen. Timmy who's upset with Dick because he gave Damian Robin. Timmy who's smarter than Dick and gets frustrated when Dick doesn't understand. Timmy who never thinks Dick's on his side Timmy who hates Dick Timmy who- stop. Stop. None of that is true. Stop. "Listen, you remember Jula Zarina? The lady who worked at the bank? I was pulling up her files, and it turns out she might have connections to one of the robbers and I was thinking-"

Dick slowly lowers himself into the chair of his dining table. He lets out a breath and places his elbows on the table. Yeah. Yeah he remembers Jula. She’s the broker at the bank Dick and Tim stopped from being shot up about a week ago. 

He lets out a breath. His chest still hurts, but he doesn't feel on the brink of another panic attack any more. 

"-so I was wondering what your thoughts are about it?"

And Dick wasn't listening. Or he was. But for some reason, no words are really sticking with him. He's tired. Everything hurts. He has what feels like the beginnings of a migraine but he doesn't trust himself to even look at the medicine cabinet at the moment. 

"I'm sorry, Tim," Dick says, and his voice sounds so fake. He clears his throat. "I missed what you were saying… you think you can say it again?"

It's silent on the other side of the line, and for a moment Dick almost thinks Tim hung up or something. He wouldn’t blame him. But then, there's the sound of bedsheets shifting on the other side of the line. His lips almost twitch upwards at the sound. Of course Tim was in bed, pulling up files on random people, instead of sleeping. 

"Dick…" Tim starts, and why does Dick get the feeling he's not going to like what's said next? Are you okay? You sound weird."

Like he's just come off from some freak panic attack even though the night was good and nothing warranted one in the first place? Dick closes his eyes and wills his voice sound normal. "It's nothing, Tim. I'm just… tired."

"Please don't lie to me," Tim says, and Dick instantly knows he's failed at playing normal. "Your tired voice is different. You sound…"

"Panicked?" Dick offers, more like a joke, but he realizes his mistake the second Tim sucks in a sharp breath. "Tim really, I'm-"

"If you say you're fine, I'm stealing the Batjet to come over and smack you." Dick winces, because Tim sounds serious. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

Dick opens his mouth, but no words come out. His eyes sting suddenly, and he's hit with the intense need to just cry. He doesn't even know what about. He doesn't want to cry, especially if it's about nothing. He swallows. "It's nothing… I just… I just had a little… little panic attack I guess. Something, um, triggered one."

Do you... Do you want to talk about it? Should I get Br-"

I trained you to live, and I watched you die.

"No," Dick says sharply. More sharply that he meant to. The pain in his chest intensifies suddenly, and for a terrifying moment he almost thinks he's about to launch into yet another attack. The thought of Bruce knowing that Dick was still upset about Crime Syndicate raised his anxiety levels almost to a ten. Dick shouldn't still be hung up on that… it's not like he really died. "No… I just… Tim I'm really fine. This was just a random thing. I don't get attacks like these normally. I just need to go to bed and I'll be better in the morning."

"Panic attacks aren't usually random-" Tim begins but Dick cuts him off. 

"Really, Tim, I'm already feeling better. How about you call me tomorrow and we can talk about Jula? I really should go to bed. And you should too."

"I… okay… if you're sure-?"

"I'm sure."

It takes just a moment to finally say goodnight to Tim, but it feels like hours. He sets his phone down and sits there. Breathing. 

He's fine. This is all okay. Dick Grayson gets panic attacks sometimes. This isn't new.

He'll get over this. 

He always does. 

[7hyuns]

million dollar man

johnny x reader

warnings; nsfw, slight angst, social class discrimination (? kinda), semi public sex

requested; yes a reallyyy long time ago by @cloroxteen sorry and thank you <3

a/n; please appreciate her this took so long

word count; 17.8k 

songs; when the party’s over - billie eilish, million dollar man / without you / music to watch boys to - lana del rey

The ceiling was leaking again. Noticing made a sudden fatigue creep into your body, your movements slowing to a stop as you stared up at where the droplets of water began to form before falling. You wondered how long the hole had been there, if it even was a hole or simply damp again, how much it would cost to fix. Whatever it was, you knew it would be too much for you to afford. As it seems everything always is. Even with taking a home that was so closely compact to the industrial part of your city, it seemed nothing was at all cheaper.

You thought how fitting it seemed that you had gotten a leak in your ceiling just as fall began. That gave you far less time than you were going to need to scrounge up the money to get it fixed, especially if you wanted to get it done before the threat of part of your ceiling caving in became all too real. Though you heavily doubted that was something you’d be able to do, and considered the all-too-likely possibility of having to do it yourself this time.

At least last year you had been able to work two jobs, and relatively comfortably considering the length the situation of Chicago’s businesses had been going on. It was only just before Valentine’s day that something had gone awfully wrong at one of the stores you worked at, and it found itself closed down. Forty-eight people had lost their jobs that day, which seemed to make finding another forty-eight times harder in the city. For a while you had thought getting by with the one job would be enough if you were cautious – and bought nothing you didn’t absolutely need – but even that seemed a strain these days.

Not only was it fatiguing to see your ceiling giving up on you, it was painful to think that with the way you were living, you would never have anything you wanted. Even if you did eventually work enough to have the things you needed, which seemed a push from where you were standing watching a puddle form on your kitchen floor. In that moment, living had never seemed more bleak.

You walked around the splattering water to reach the cupboard underneath your kitchen sink, looking for the rusted tin bucket that you’d kept from the other times this had occurred. Dropping the bucket with a clash of hollow tin onto wet tile floors, you heard the drops begin to echo onto the surface. Taking a wary glance at the thin puddle on the floor, you realised you would be better off cleaning it up before you relaxed. You couldn’t find the energy, however, and instead made the short trip from facing the back of your couch to sitting down in the small space of the attached living room. Even these short strides seemed too much for you to comprehend doing, and that feeling remained despite you already tucking your legs up underneath you as you sat on the worn fabric.

The couch itself had seen too many years since it had been gifted to your parents on their wedding day to still be considered comfortable by any means. That was only if you stayed still on it for too long, though, which seemed the only saving grace you could find in it. Much like all of your other large furniture items that you’d filled the two main rooms of your ground-floor apartment with, you hadn’t paid for it. Or even picked it out yourself. Your parents had been kind enough to give you the old stuff that had been lingering in the garage of your childhood home for fear of losing the memories attached to them.

Thinking of them when you had a moment to yourself made you suddenly regretful. For what, you weren’t sure. Maybe being away from them both seemed a better idea at the time you left, or maybe you missed the simplicity of life on the further outskirts of the city. Maybe it was only a longing for your childhood to come back so you didn’t have to think about all of the grown-up things for yourself anymore. You had regretted running off what seemed so far since the day you had done it, but there was nothing more you could do now. Sometimes you could barely remember why you had moved to the city anyway. Chasing big dreams, or following someone who was chasing big dreams. One of you had managed to make those big dreams become real, had turned them into a tangible thing.

Looking around your cosy home, it seemed simple to tell that the one who had struck out wasn’t you. You supposed, with the ever-so-wonderful hindsight, moving straight into the city by yourself at a time so obsessed with glitz and glamour hadn’t been such a fine idea. Though you knew the largest reason you had followed the someone else into the city in the first place had been to earn your own glitz and glamour life-style.

Sitting on your parents couch in a flat with a leak in the ceiling, you were beginning to think you should have done what all other American girls did when they were seeking success and education, and moved to New York. Even your friends had spoken dreamily of the big city, saying that’s the only place you could ever hope to find real culture and, as most of your friends insisted, real jazz.

Chicago wasn’t a place of real culture or real jazz, not in any shape or form. You could guess it was warmer in New York than it was in Chicago, too. If you had flourished in a certain area, or if you had a passion, maybe you could have taken the chance and followed it all the way to New York. But you didn’t and you hadn’t. Instead you had moved further into your home city at the worst possible time and found yourself, along with all of the friends who had stayed, shrouded in fear and crime.

You had to remind yourself that it wasn’t all bad. You had to, because otherwise life seemed far too bleak to keep up with. The light rain that was pattering against your window would get worse, you knew. If not over the course of the night then in the morning, surely. The thought filled you with subdued fear. You wondered if the bucket would be enough to keep your stable through the entirety of the fall and into the winter. That was a tricky line to walk, though. If you left it too long, the ceiling would cave, just as the man who had fixed it last time had insisted.

The night seemed to be taking too long, and there was too much weighing on your mind to consider staying awake any longer. You rose up and took long, dragged footsteps the short few paces to cross over the door-frame into your bedroom. You didn’t bother even turning the light on, feeling as though the weight of the world was suddenly resting on your shoulders. You kicked the door shut behind you, tugging your work short off and stepping out of your skirt to pull an older, looser shirt on to cover yourself.

When you had finally crawled into your bed it seemed colder than you had expected. Even the sheets felt icy and uncomfortable when you tugged them up to cover yourself. There’s little more I can do, you reminded yourself, closing your eyes and hoping for warmth. The thought made you want to laugh, with its consistency in your daily thinking. I hope, I hope, I hope. But what good had that been doing you in the last few years, really? You wondered whether the hope of meeting success had been enough for the boy you’d followed. Judging from where he’d made it in such a short span of time, you could only imagine it had been far more than hope that had given him what he had now.

 ///

The books had been handled badly in, “The Ox,” for such a long time that even with having worked there for over a year, there seemed so much to do. The owner, who was only ever briefly glimpsed around the bar once a month gathering his reports, never wearing a name tag, was called Sicheng. You had never found the confidence to ask too many questions about the man – what his last name was (though you had discovered within the pages of the book that his full name was Dong Sicheng and he was around your age), where he was from, why he seemed to have a lack of interest in his own business – though that was the same for many people.

Men in bars loved to talk to anyone that would listen, which happened to be the most difficult job of the women pouring their drinks. And, as usual, women – without the exemption of yourself – loved to gossip about the most interesting things they could find out. The happiest moments in your daily life was when you would be preparing to go home, or even when one of the women would spend their break in your mini-office instead of having to leave the building into the fall chill, would seek you out to tell you something exciting they had learnt. Dong Sicheng had become a natural inquisition for most of the people who had him as a boss, as there seemed to be so little available to learn about him. All they had known upon first getting their jobs was his name and that he wasn’t from Chicago, or even America at all.

Over time, with the information the women working at the bar had collected, you’d put together a vague, blurry image of Sicheng in your mind. His name was Dong Sicheng but oftentimes in letters he received he was referred to as Winwin. He was around your age, he was from China though you didn’t know where. And he was very anti-social. Once a month was about as often as he’d show his face. That didn’t seem too strange considering what it was the women said the men who grew too brave in their drunkenness for their own good.

Most of them said he was part of a gang that had come over from China to work with the American gangs, though you didn’t know how realistic that seemed. All the stories about him seemed in ultimate agreement that he worked in some kind of dirty business. Though, with the state the city was in, you weren’t sure you would confidently say that any business wasn’t like to be dirty. Either way, whenever you looked over the books, you knew that something was out of the ordinary. Too many odd payments were made or received with no reason given, or a short, ‘donation,’ if anything. You didn’t think it was probable that anyone would be making donations to some bar on a main street of Chicago when there must have been hundreds of others in the surrounding area.

You stretched out in your seat, staring blankly at the box of papers you had to sort through today. You didn’t think it would too difficult a task, and you thought if you moved quickly you could get it finished before the half-way mark of the day. Not that that meant too much, your work day would still end at the same time whether you rushed through it or not.

Despite knowing it was a littler amount than you had expected, it didn’t seem to make the first two hours pass any faster. By the first time in the day that one of the women who worked on the bar slipped into your office, every blink was beginning to feel like dragging sandpaper over your eyes. You could still feel the ever-present worry about the tin bucket on your kitchen floor; whether it had overflowed even though the rain was only light today, whether it had been knocked over by some mysterious force.

The woman had been working there just under a year, and was, to your surprise, younger than you. She had come from London hoping to find adventure in the ‘new world,’ which to her, had only been Chicago as of yet. Instead of finding her hoped for adventure, she had found a job in a bar that was possibly run by a gang member, but seemed altogether too quiet to keep her satisfied.

She was frowning when she walked into your working room, her brows drawn and eyes shying away from yours. You rose your eyebrows at her as she began to search the room for something else to look at. “Ada?” She offered you a tight-lipped smile. “Is everything alright?”

“No, I, I need to ask a favour.” She mumbled.

“Alright.”

When she looked at you, you made yourself smile reassuringly at her. This seemed to give her a shred more confidence, though she still seemed hesitant to ask. “I forgot to pick my medicine up this morning.” She declared, looking straight at you.

The difficulty she seemed to have asking the favour made you feel an odd sense of fondness rise in your chest. You smiled warmly at her. “Do you need to go and get it now?” She nodded. “So, what can I do to help you?”

She shuffled on her feet, tangling her hands with one another. “I was wondering if, you know if you had less work to do, if you could watch the bar while I go.” She paused, waiting to see if you reacted. “I would be quick! Not any more than an hour, I promise. It’s alright if you can’t, I could just, go, I could go later.”

You judged by her insistence on going now that going later wasn’t so open an option to her. You made yourself smile again to soothe her worries before you stood up. “It’s fine, I’ll be finished with this work within an hour, anyway. I’d be bored silly with nothing else to do.”

This seemed to soothe her enough for her to nod, though still not without hesitation. “An hour.” She repeated, though you assumed that was more to cool her own guilt.

You nodded. “I’ll see you then.”

After offering you an apologetic smile, she turned and left the room. The click of her short heels resounded until she reached the room where all of the workers left their belongings in the morning. When she was gone, you fell back into your same sense of empty tiredness. The fatigue wasn’t a calling for sleep, more so for some miracle gravitational shift that would change your life for the better. Or simply enough for me to not have to return home to a ruined ceiling. The sense of dramatics in your tired eyes made you wonder how much longer you had before that worry was for your whole home. Even the far away idea of it made your stomach turn in anxiety.

You pushed yourself up away from the table, flattening your palms to provide yourself some stability. For a minute, you stayed like that; breathing deeply and expecting the worst of your future. Yes, let’s follow an old friend to inner-city Chicago on the off-chance that we’ll find the same glamour he undoubtedly will. What a fine idea! And what a find outcome it had evidently been, standing in a room that smelt of woodchips and liquor, desperate to return home to a flat that smelt of mould and old furniture.

Once the angry butterflies having their own little riot in your stomach had relaxed, you stood up straight, and heaved in a deep sigh. “An hour,” you reminded yourself, though interacting with drunk men didn’t seem like it had an amount of time to take before it became awful. It’s only the start of the night, you cooled yourself. You turned, pausing only to wish that you were hidden away in the comfort of you bed once more, before walking out in the main area of the bar.

Despite it being early into the night, it was swirling with movement. The band that Sicheng had play in the bar for most of the week were in full swing, though the awe of their music was drowned out by a collection of drunken young men singing along. You slipped to move past them without alerting them of your presence. Finding your way to behind the safety of the bar at the back of the room proved a tasking challenge, with such a mess of bodies and drinks being jostled and knocked, creating even more of real mess that someone would have to clean when this place emptied later. You felt a stab of pity for them, seeing an older man spill half a pint of his beer onto the floor after stumbling into one of his group.

When you finally shut the little gate behind you, you steadied yourself again. The rising noise of music mingling with the murmuring cacophony of too many conversations happening at once was making your ears ring. Fall had meant the lights had to be turned on earlier in the day, with no natural lighting being enough for the workers to find their way around. Even that seemed to make your head spin. Reminder: no more looking for second jobs as a bar maid.

Someone called out at the bar’s edge, an older man with slicked back hair and a three-piece on, though he seemed to have lost the jacket to his suit. The other girl seemed busy loading a set of drinks up onto a tray, so you exhaled heavily and turned to face the man properly.

Putting on a customer friendly smile made you feel the sleepiness settle more obviously on your shoulders. How much longer can I carry my life on my back? That’s not where it’s supposed to be. But that’s where it was, and if you ever wanted it to be anywhere else, you had to work for it. “What can I get you tonight, sir?”

The man smiled, and you tried to guess whether this would go smoothly or make you wish you were anywhere else all over again. If there was any hint of your distaste for the possibility of him being anything other than amiable, he took it. A friendly smile lifted his lips. “Just two whiskeys, please.”

Your heart settled a bit. Nodding, you turned to prepare the drinks. The smell of the whiskey was potent as soon as you pulled the top of the bottle, like the smell of men mingled with the ash-trays that decorated the tables in here. You poured an equal amount into the two glasses and turned to place them on the bar in front of the man.

He smiled again, dropping the money he was clutching in his hand down onto the counter. He inclined his head in the way men said, ‘thank you,’ when they didn’t particularly want to say it. You supposed that was better than nothing. As much as there was no shortage of people crowding, ‘The Ox,’ they all seemed fairly too preoccupied with there conversations, or with shouting along to the band’s music, to be making frequent trips to the bar. That wouldn’t be good for Sicheng you supposed, but it was something you were grateful for.

Then the door opened, and the bruised blue light of the sky outside was visible again. The noise from the street leaked in only slightly, just by the sound of some argument happening on the street. Take the back when you go home today. Last time, you had been blocked in by the police breaking up another fight-gone-violent, and then by a crowd of people desperate for something to see. You weren’t in the mood for that to be how your day ended again.

You glanced over to the large group of men walking in. They were all done-up nicely; three-piece suits with fine jackets that made you assume they were businessmen, slicked back hair, and cigarettes hanging from their lips. You could have written them off normal customers for a bar like this. Though on your second glance you saw enough to make your stomach drop again.

He was dressed much the same as all of his other companions; his suit was a dull grey, his hair was pushed off of his face, though some of it had slipped from its position, and he blew a cloud of smoke from his lips as he looked over to the bar. You thought, I wish I was invisible. You thought, I hope he thinks I look as good as I think he does.

Either way, you wished your were busy with something else, so you didn’t look like you were blatantly staring at him. It seemed to late for a regret like that one, though. He had seen you, and was making it no secret. You were sure if anyone was paying attention, they could see his eyes blatantly take in your figure, or as much of it as he could with the bar covering you. He turned to the group where they were picking out somewhere to sit, and shouted something over to one of them. The boy looked younger than he was, and laughed at whatever comment he made, nodding and turning to say something to another one of them.

Then he started walking towards you. The crowds of people seemed less of a problem to him than they had been for you, as he simply walked calmly on his path to the bar. When someone stumbled into that path, he didn’t seem to notice them at all, letting them tumble their way back out of it. The ease seemed attractive to you, though you guessed it was because you wished you had that same sense of confidence. Just like when you were growing up alongside him, you had to remind yourself he only had the confidence that you didn’t because he was a man. Boys were always brought up to think of themselves as important, even if they weren’t from the city. Girls, well, that was less of a concern with girls.

By the time he reached the bar, the bitterness you had felt at the back of your throat for most of your childhood had returned. You suddenly wished he wasn’t there, that you’d never had to of seen him again. Especially not when I’ve spent all day thinking of my lack of success. Seeing him in his fancy suit with his fancy friends felt like salt was being poured into your wound.

He grinned as he reached the bar, looking you up and down again. When his eyes met yours again, you held back the pride of having him look so blatantly and pleasantly surprised at the way you looked. You made yourself raise your eyebrows expectantly instead. “What can I get you, sir?” You repeated the question as you’d said it earlier. That way you knew he couldn’t interpret it a different way. Is it different? You weren’t sure. Your ceiling back home was leaking, you had to find another job so you could get it fixed, and you were covering on the bar for someone – you didn’t want to think about how much more of you it would take to start chasing him again.

He tilted his head at you, his grin not faltering. “That’s cold.”

You remembered how you’d smiled at the man before, the smile that said ‘I-am-just-here-to-get-payed-and-I-don’t-get-paid-enough-to-deal-with-you’ and mirrored that action again. “Is there a problem, sir?”

A hint of insecurity was beginning to reach his eyes. His grin slipped just slightly before he lifted it back to its original place. “You haven’t forgotten me. I saw how you looked at me when I walked in.”

You didn’t know how to seem cold when he questioned you. My ceiling is leaking, I am looking for another job to fix it, and I’m covering the bar for someone. I don’t have time to be messing around with him. You sighed heavily, letting him get the better of you as he always seemed set on doing. “Oh yes,” you rose your voice so he couldn’t not realise you weren’t serious, “I remember now, you’re Johnny, we were in the same hometown.” You stared blankly at him. “Ready for your drinks now?”

He quirked a brow at you. “Having a bad day?”

The bitterness in the back of your throat tasted like heat and the aftertaste of whisky. “Perhaps I simply don’t like strangers making snide observations of me.”

The grin fell from his face completely, replaced by a look of offended annoyance. “Good thing I’m not a stranger then, isn’t it, ___?”

“You may as well be.”

“I know everything about you. A stranger would know nothing about you.”

You scoffed. “I see getting your own business didn’t make you any smarter.” You glanced around to check no one else was at the bar waiting on you while you bickered. If I lost this job…There was no one but you and Johnny. “And it would be knew.” You corrected.

He recoiled at the comment, and opened his mouth to speak again before pausing. “You’re right.” His expression turned into one of mock understanding. “The girl I knew would never be as cold as you are.”

The comment stung, digging underneath your skin to wait there until you needed substance to be angry with yourself later. “The boy I knew…” you searched his face to try and find any semblance of how he used to be. The boy you’d chased was long gone, that seemed clear as day to see. Seeing it so up-close to you hurt more than it had when you’d simply pictured it. “What happened to him?”

Johnny shrugged. “He grew up.”

“And became a rich man. I suppose that’d change a person easily enough.”

He laughed lightly, nodding. “Only for the better.”

“I’ve met enough rich men to prove you wrong there.”

“Maybe,” his grin had returned. Though it wasn’t like his old smiles used to be, it was still pleasant to see when it lit up his features as it did. “What about your friends, huh?”

Confusion became evident on your features. “What about them?”

He bevelled his head at you. “Are rich women much the same as rich men? I always assumed they were worse, since their money’s being held by the rich men.”

You laughed. “I would certainly be worse if a man was holding my money.” You paused for a moment before shaking your head and laughing again. “You think I’m friends with rich women?”

“Well, rich women tend to convene together.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Tell me Johnny,” you began, placing your forearms on the bare in front of him, “why would I be working in a place like this if I was rich?”

He seemed stunted in his point. He shook his head and searched his face to catch any impression that you were joking. “You don’t,” he paused, as if thinking his original words would be too offensive, “you don’t have money?”

I have a leaking ceiling and I’m looking for another job, and now I’m covering work for someone, though you didn’t want him to know about all of that. “I don’t know where you got that impression.” You made yourself laugh again, trying to swallow how hard the reality of how stuck you were as it began to sink back in. Talking to Johnny had almost been enough for you to forget it for a moment. Though only a short moment.

His features had become drawn and serious. Not even that rang a bell of recognition for you. “You must be alright for money if the only job you need is a bar maid, though.” He suggested. You wondered whose conscience he was trying to subdue.

Something inside of you was begging with you not to tell him that that wasn’t true. It pleaded with you to agree, or to brush it off. To do anything that would mean he didn’t figure out your financial situation. You weren’t sure you could handle that kind of embarrassment today. So you only laughed and shrugged again. “I guess so.” You made sure the smile didn’t slip, and hoped that it looked real enough for him to note see through it. You breathed in deeply again, before he could continue speaking. “So, what can I get you?”

Disappointment clouded his features for a moment before he hummed. “Five whiskeys, please.” Even thinking about the price of the order made you feel far poorer than you already were. When the bitterness rose up again, you made yourself force it back. He worked for his money, you thought, but then, so do I.

You put his order onto a tray, “Should I bring this over to your table?”

“No, no,” he took the tray away from where your hands rested on it. “I’ve got it. Thank you.” He dropped the money onto the bar-top. You thought even that much cash would be close to how much you needed to get your ceiling fixed. And he has that to throw away on drinks. The bitterness had the same aftertaste as the overbearing smell of the whisky did.

He only came back over to the bar ten minutes before Ada was supposed to be back. There was a playful smile on his lips that moved up to meet his eyes, and you tried to make yourself copy the action. You failed, only succeeding in smiling a tight-lipped, half-formed look of vague disinterest in his direction.

The expression didn’t go unnoticed. “Too long a shift?” He joked.

If he was still the same Johnny he used to be, you’d say something like, ‘oh, god, you don’t know the half of it!’ But he wasn’t. There were things your pride couldn’t let you confide in him, especially not in a place like this. So you made yourself shrug, and hoped Ada would be late getting back. “I wouldn’t believe anyone if they told me they enjoyed working.”

Johnny laughed, and placed the tray of empty whisky glasses onto the bar-top. A few of glasses clinked when they tapped together. You glanced over at the clock. “Would you believe me?”

“I meant working class people, not businessmen in fancy suits.” You chided.

He nodded in mock understanding. “Businessmen work quite a lot, you know.”

You shrugged. “So do working class people.”

“You don’t.” He grinned.

‘Oh, god, you don’t know the half of it!’ You forced a laugh to pass your lips. “Being around men like you makes up for however much time you spend tucked away in an office.” You tried to sound teasing, but the aftertaste of bitterness lingered on your words.

He didn’t seem to note any animosity, only laughing with you. “When does your shift end?” He questioned, flattening his palms against the bar-top and looking at you expectantly.

Something about the way his hair was falling into his face, with his head tilted and jaw tightened, made you fell the angry butterflies in your stomach soften enough to flutter. He didn’t look like he used to. Despite his words, and the way his brown eyes looked dark enough to be considered smouldering in the golden light, you made yourself raise your eyes in disapproval. “Flirting with a bar maid? Is that allowed for a man in your position?”

He chuckled, and dropped his head for a moment. When he looked up, you felt a blush reach your cheeks as if you were still the same young girl with a silly crush on the boy who seemed so much greater than you could ever be. “Anything’s allowed for a man in my position.”

You scoffed, “I see your confidence hasn’t faltered.”

“I see your unwillingness to answer questions hasn’t faltered.”

Shrugging, you moved to flatten your own palms on the bar-top. Though the space between your heights seemed infinite, you tilted your head up only slightly. “I don’t have to answer your questions.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Maybe they’re uninteresting.”

It was his turn to scoff. “Flirting’s too mundane for you?”

“I am a bar maid.”

Johnny hummed. “Are you now?”

You recoiled slightly, pulling your hands off of the bar-top and moving away from him. “What kind of question is that?”

“An interesting one.”

Shaking your head, you looked to the door that lead into the room before the staff exit. There was no sign of movement there. Ada was running three minutes late. Somehow that made you grateful. “An uneducated one, you mean.”

“You don’t dress like a bar maid. Or pour drinks like you do it regularly.” He pointed out.

You sighed. “Why’s that any of your concern?”

He furrowed his brows. “Because if you’re not a bar maid, that means you lied.”

“So? It’s not like you need me to tell you the truth.”

“What was that promise we made?” He asked, leaning further onto the bar-top. “That we’d never lie to one another?”

You scoffed again. “Well, we were nine. I can’t keep all the promises I made to everyone when I was that age.”

He fell into a vague silence. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to say something to fill the empty space, though you couldn’t think of anything. Not being able to have the right words to say to him made you feel strange, almost inept.

“Well, whatever it is that you do,” he began, “when does your shift end?”

You laughed, half in disbelief and half in surprise at the surrealism of what seemed to be happening. “When the bar closes.” He hummed in acceptance of your answer. “Why do you need to know?”

“I wanted to take you to the pictures.”

You laughed. “I’m sure that’s what you wanted to do.” You teased, still feeling the anticipation of Ada showing up despite knowing Johnny had already figured you out.

Johnny raised his hands in mock surrender. “You know me. I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”

I don’t, you wanted to say. Instead you made yourself smile the same smile that was a size too small for you. “As are all businessmen.”

He took the edge in your voice as comedy, and laughed loudly again, before shaking his head softly. “You know, it’s quite dangerous for a lady to be walking home in the dark at the same time as drunken men.”

You made a noise somewhere between a scoff and an amused chuckle. “Well, thank you for your concern, sir, but I’m sure I’ll be just fine.”

He didn’t laugh. His features grew drawn in seriousness as he stared at you. “Do you not want me to walk you home?”

The idea of him seeing the very exterior of your building, with its brittle bricks and boarded up windows where different flats had been shut off, made embarrassment flood through you. Though you were sure even if he happened to miss those things in the dark, he would want to come in for a drink. Then he would see the old furniture, the leaking ceiling, and he would know you had lied to him more than once.

You scoffed at him. “I think your intentions might be worse than you’re implying.”

A grin turned his lips up again. The sight of him relaxing enough to joke made the nerves in your stomach cool slightly. “Would you want them any other way?”

Humming, you saw Ada appear in the doorway. She offered you an apologetic smile, seeing as she was nearing fifteen minutes later than she had promised to be. You imagined the city at this time would be crowded to navigate on foot, so you only shook your head at her. Tapping your fingertips against the bar-top a few times, you offered Johnny a quizzical look before turning your back on him.

“Is your shift over?” He asked, following you along as you walked toward the gate that sectioned off the open area from the alcohol lining the shelves.

A breathy laugh passed your lips. “No,” you responded.

You passed out of the gate, passing Ada as you did. She paused, quirking a brow at Johnny following closely on your heels. Her hand found your wrist as she stopped you lightly in your tracks. “Everything alright?” She asked.

Smiling brightly, you nodded, moving to squeeze her hand, “He’s just an old friend.” You assured.

She studied him for a moment before releasing her grip. “Give me a shout if you need me, alright?”

You smiled at her one last time before moving to make your way back to your small office. Johnny stuck himself to your side, and suddenly getting through the dense crowds of people didn’t seem such a task. There was an energy of confidence radiating off of him that other people seemed to pick up easily enough, scampering out of his path as he walked. When you reached the closed wooden door of your office, you turned to look up at him.

“What are you doing?”

He smiled, tilting his head at you. “Maybe I’d like to see your real work-place.”

Scoffing, you began to push the door open, walking in with him close on your heels. “There you go with your false intentions again.”

Laughing, he stepped inside the small room. “So I’m the one that spends all day tucked away?” You glared over at him, though he only shrugged. “It’s like those fox holes you used to get your foot caught in back home.”

“You used to fall in them, too.” You defended.

He shrugged, walking over to your desk and looking down at the papers discarded there. “You do the books for this place?”

You tilted your head at him, raising your eyebrows expectantly. “Don’t think I have the intelligence for it?”

He smiled, lifting the latest paper you’d last been working, eyes drifting over the words before he looked back at you. “There’s nothing you don’t have the intelligence for.”

His words flattered you more than any of the times people had called you pretty. Strangely, you wished he would notice more of your skills in the work laying out on the table, though you knew that was little enough to show for your intelligence.

When Johnny began walking towards you, you found your breath growing baited. For a moment, it didn’t matter that you didn’t know him as well as you used to. It didn’t even matter that your ceiling was leaking at home, or that you were looking for a second job to try and get it fixed, or that you supposed to be working right now. Even though if I lost this job…

His eyes were searching your face for something. Whether that was hesitancy to kiss him, or a want to kiss him, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that there was no hesitancy in your mind about him kissing you. Still, he seemed to have frozen in his position, only looking down at you, searching and searching for something you couldn’t see for yourself.

“Johnny,” you mumbled, his name feeling strange in your mouth, “get on with it.”

A grin met his features again. His hands came to cup your face, and for a moment the same searching look came back to him. You moved your own hands to grip the sides of his suit jacket, and tugged him closer. Close enough that you could feel his breath fanning across your face. There was the ever-light hint of whisky on his breath. That was the only thing you could find to dislike about his closeness to you.

When his lips finally met yours, you felt as if something inside of you was settling. Nothing else seemed to matter but the fact that you were finally kissing him. It felt unattached from the dreamy imaginations you’d had about the possibility of kissing him when you were younger. Then, you had always pictured his lips tasting like the candy he used to steal from the shop on the outskirts of the city, and you had pictured his hands feeling soft like the rose petals that grew in his parent’s garden. Now, his lips had the suggestion of whisky on them, mixed with the faintest memory of the cigarette he’d been smoking earlier. And his hands were rougher, and they seemed to shroud your entire face as he cupped it.

The girl version of you would probably have been disappointed at the idea of kissing someone who wasn’t the Johnny she knew. Things, you supposed, had changed quite significantly since you’d moved into the city. And with as little experience – or even basic knowledge – that you’d had with romance, you decided you knew barely enough to know what a relationship was back then. Now, with Johnny���s hands mapping out over your body, something in you decided that this could at least be a learning point. If not of love, then of affection.

When his lips left yours, a flood of disappointment moved through you. As much as a heavy whine wanted to pass from your lips, your pride wouldn’t let it, your lips locking closed. There was amusement lighting up his features, and no matter how hard you tried to force it you couldn’t bring up that bitter feeling again.

You wondered if you should whine again, or if you should complain, or maybe even just pull away and stop playing a game that was so childish in retrospect. At whatever glare had come into your eye, Johnny cocked his head. “Is there a problem?”

You pushed his hands away from you, scoffing as you did. “You’re a tease.”

He hummed, curling his arms around your waist and nodding. “If you don’t want me to tease,” he started, dipping closer to you again, “tell me what you want me to do.”

Drawing away from him slightly, you tried to study him like he had with you. You didn’t know what he’d been looking for, so in turn you didn’t know what you were looking for in him. You felt amusement mingling with excitement inside of you, and only when it met a burst of confidence did you let yourself speak. “Do whatever you’ve been thinking about doing to me all night.”

Another boisterous laugh left your lips. He spun you both around, turning and beginning to walk you both away from the closed door. When you felt the edge of the desk touch the tops of your thighs, you let him lift you. As one hand held you steady against him, the other swiped papers out of the way to make room to set you down. Part of you wanted to be anxious about the work getting muddled, about whatever work you’d already done in the day being wasted, but you couldn’t think about anything other than the way Johnny attached his lips to your neck. Flattening your palms against his chest, you let him begin to push your skirt higher up your legs. When you felt it bunch at your waist, you finally stopped biting back the whine that was sitting impatiently at the back of your throat.

He unravelled himself from you for a moment, “Quite bold of you to assume I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

You whined impatiently again, feeling his hands move higher up your thighs. “Of course you have. I’m a delight.”

He laughed, dropping his head into the crook of your neck to leave more kisses in the bare space there. When you felt his fingers hook into the sides of your underwear, a desperate moan tumbled past your lips. Johnny offered you a mock wary glance. “You’ve gotta be quieter than that if you’re gonna let me do whatever I want.”

You tried to shrug off the words. “I didn’t say whatever you wanted. I said whatever you’d been thinking about.”

“Same thing.” He pulled your underwear the rest of the way down your legs, stopping only to give you a quick glance as you kicked them off. A vague feeling of insecurity came over you then, with your skirt bunched into a roll of fabric at your hips and your underwear discarded on the floor. The feeling wasn’t given very long to grow, with Johnny crouching down in front of the desk shortly after.

There was a look in his eyes that told you he had a million teasing remarks sitting on the tip of his tongue for the sight that greeted him. Though he remained silent as he gripped the backs of your knees and tugged you closer to the edge of the desk. A surprised gasp left your mouth before you had the chance to recover from the shock. You wanted to say that the light chuckle that left his lips was because of something else – some joke his friends had said earlier that he’d only just caught on to – but you knew that wasn’t possible.

Johnny didn’t seem too keen on giving you a clear amount of time to overthink anything. You placed your flattened palms against the desk as he attached his mouth to your heat, curling your lip to bite back the moans that begged to leave your mouth. The noise from outside of the small office seemed distant and drowned out now that all you could fully focus on was the feeling of Johnny’s lips against you. It’s been too long, that’s all it is. Though you wondered if it was really that, or just something too difficult to accept. That maybe this was just another of Johnny’s many skills.

As the coil already began to start forming in the pit of your stomach, you were coming to the vexed realisation that that was going to be the case again. Oddly, even in such an intimate position of him having his head between your thighs, you felt that moving to thread your fingers through his hair would be too much. You wanted to think more about that, but the coil in your stomach was shifting into a pressure that made you try and stutter a warning to Johnny.

But all of a sudden the feeling stopped altogether, and he was pulling away from you slightly. Still with his knees against the floor, he bevelled his head up at you. Your head was spinning too much for you to be sure what expression was casting across your features, but you almost sure it was one of childish irritation. “Problem?” He questioned, running his hands up your thighs from your knees until his fingertips were dancing over your core.

You tried to push your hips forward to gain something more, but the short space you had on the desk prevented you. “Is that you’ve been thinking about?”

“Seeing your face when you start to beg?” He grinned, “Yeah.”

Sighing, you shook your head at him. “I’m starting to think you’re just a bad person nowadays.”

He pulled his fingertips away from you, bringing them to his lips before he spoke again. “Well, just this once, then,” he began, pressing a few light kisses to the inside of your thighs, “I’ll give in and, well, you know – be nice.”

“How kind.”

And then the room felt like it had gone underwater again. The noise that had previously just become loud background volume had turned back into distant, dreamy chatter again. Small moans fought past your mouth, but you reminded yourself of just how awful things would be if anyone caught you in this position. Well, I might finally speak to Sicheng. Nothing’s all bad. But the way Johnny moved his mouth against you made it difficult to think rationally about anything.

When the coil in your stomach began to push against you again, you imagined the worst; Johnny pulling away from you again, or maybe even someone wandering in. By the time you felt the coil snap, you were too distracted by the euphoria of it to think of anything else. It’s just been too long…but you weren’t even sure that by the time your bitterness for Johnny reappeared you would be able to say he had made you feel that good for any reason other than sheer talent.

He remained silent for a few moments, kissing the inside of your thighs softly as they shook slightly in the aftermath. When he rose to stand up, he placed your underwear back at your feet, pulling them up until they reached where your thighs met the table. You pulled in a breath to steady yourself and then let your legs drop onto the ground, lifting your underwear up until they were back into their correct place.

Johnny was looking at you with his head tilted. You glanced over at the old clock that hung above the door and saw it was two minutes until the under-boss for Sicheng would come and throw everyone out. You usually tried to get out five minutes or so before this happened – as did all the women – to give them a safe head-start. Thinking about walking home with packs of drunk men staggering around in every direction, with the high likelihood of rain, sounded like the last thing you wanted to do.

“You gonna let me drive you home or am I supposed to walk you back?” Johnny asked, pulling your attention back to him.

You made yourself laugh, even if the question didn’t directly suggest itself to be a joke. “I guess I’ll let you drive. Only because I wouldn’t want you making two journeys for me.”

He hummed, pulling the door open and waiting for you to walk out in front of him. “You’re such a delight.” He teased, falling in behind you as you made your way through the packs of people. It felt odd that not one of the people crowded into this room seemed to have checked the time enough to try and get out before the rush. Maybe you were just trying to think of anything other than the way Johnny’s hand was resting on your hip so he didn’t lose you as you directed the two of you to the main door. When your hand caught the handle, you hesitated, wondering if you should scrap this entire idea and go out your usual way. Something about leaving the building without telling anyone you’d finished your shift felt unnatural, and made a small tremor of anxiety make itself present.

But there was too little time left for you to push your way back through the crowds to the opposite side of the room. Instead, you pushed the handle down and pulled the door open to let the smell of the city into the main bar room. After a while of living in the middle of Chicago, you got used to the collide of different smells surrounding you at all times. Though in that moment, with your head feeling fuzzy and your legs feeling half as strong as they usually did, everything seemed more present than it really was.

Especially the cold. The second Johnny gave you a light push outside, the icy air curled around your bare arms and the sliver of skin exposed where your socks didn’t meet the end of your skirt. Part of you wanted to push yourself further into where Johnny had wrapped his arm tightly around your waist, but the other – still far more dominant – part of you refused to look like you needed anything from him. Rain was falling harshly against the ground, splashing up to greet your grey socks and darken in shade.

No matter how much you wanted to feel like you were entirely governing the moment between you and Johnny, you couldn’t do much more than let him guide you in whatever direction you needed to take to reach his car. You took the chance to glance up at him, and despite the lack of light, you could tell he still looked just as good as he had when he’d walked into the bar. His hair was growing damp from the rain now, as you imagined yours was, too. But more strands were starting to fall into his face, and he was looking straight ahead with the few directing lights shining in his eyes. He doesn’t look like he used to. Somehow that didn’t seem too important anymore.

He opened the car door for you, grinning tiredly as he gestured you inside. You didn’t know whether to laugh or thank him. If he was the same Johnny you used to be friends with, you would have just laughed and slapped his hand away from the car door. Now that you were both outside, in the real world, the bitterness had transformed into your usual non-purposeful nerves around the businessmen that came into the bar daily.

“Thank you,” you mumbled quickly, shifting in your seat as he shut the door for you. Before he walked to his side of the car, he offered you a quizzical look and then a polite smile. The same polite smile you’d offer a stranger if they had just thanked you for doing something kind for them. Your chest felt drawn and tight.

When he started to navigate his way away from the other swarm of cars beginning to come back to life after being sat in a parking spot all night, you began to try and articulate an excuse. Or think of another street you knew well enough to tell Johnny that that’s where you lived. It had to be somewhere nicer than the one you lived on now, but not so nice that it would seem implausible for you to afford it mostly by yourself.

Johnny turned out onto the main street by the bar you had been working out for a little over a year. A street you had walked up and down a hundred times. “So, where am I going?” He looked across at you, a few strands of hair reaching far enough down his forehead to begin to cover one of his eyes.

You hadn’t been given enough time to think of an excuse that would work well enough to go past Johnny. Instead you only rattled off your address and hung your head, too nervous to see the look on his face as he realised. Whether that was realised you had not-so-directly been lying to him or that you were poorer than he had first imagined, you didn’t know. All you knew for sure was how businessmen got when they were around people with less money than them. You didn’t want to think of Johnny looking at you like that.

The rest of the drive passed in silence. Not an awkward silence, but in the few sneak glances you took at Johnny you could only see him focused ahead on the road. Part of you was surprised that he even knew his way to your street, as you could safely assume he’d never been there before. The rain was hitting the roof of the car loudly, though you found yourself more entranced with the people rushing along the streets outside.

The car passed one of the larger shops in the city, with it’s ‘open,’ sign still high in the window. In the window away from the door, there was a sign that read, ‘Help Wanted.’ A small gleam of hope lifted into your chest. For once, you wanted to feed into the idea that luck was on your side. That hope translated quickly into worry. Worry that you wouldn’t get the job, or that if you didn’t make Johnny stop the car right there and get straight out to apply for it then it would be gone in the morning – even the worry that the other good things that had happened through the day were beginning to make you delusional to see what you wanted.

You stayed silent and let Johnny drive you the rest of the way home. When the car slowed to a stop, part of you didn’t want to get out, in fear of the dream-like haze of the day disappearing. Getting out of the car, closing the door on Johnny – it felt all too much like waking up from some sweet dream. I just don’t want to get out into the rain, that’s all. But lying to yourself seemed to be getting harder and harder.

Pushing the car door open, you tried to think of something to say. A goodbye, maybe, or maybe a flirty suggestion of seeing him again. If it was still the Johnny you had known, maybe you would make that joke. But the man sat in the car with you wasn’t.

When your pause had become awkward and unnaturally long enough for him to tell you didn’t know what to say, Johnny breathed in sharply. “Will I get to see you around, then? Or do I have to charm you into talking to me every time I see you?” He asked, making himself smile to soothe your evident nerves.

It didn’t work, but you appreciated his effort. “Maybe I like to see you make an effort.”

He laughed then, and you wanted to feel confident that it was genuine. The rain was falling harder. “Well, I better get used to it, then.”

A grin turned your lips upwards. Even if it didn’t feel like you were talking to the Johnny you used to know, the Johnny you had followed all the way to the city for the slightest hope of doing as well as he had, you thought you might be able to get used to this new one. “You better.” You assured him, pushing the car door the rest of the way open.

The light feeling had returned to your chest as you hurried to your door. An odd sense of gratitude was in your stomach that he hadn’t made any mention of your living space. You hadn’t gone back to the back room to get your jacket, so you gave morning you a congratulations for forgetting to take her key out of her breast pocket after leaving the house. Johnny offered you one more wave before he drove off, rain water rising from the floor and spraying up as you stood in your doorway to watch.

When he was gone and the door closed behind you, you let out a deep breath you hadn’t known you were holding. Reality was sitting at your kitchen table waiting for you to accept her, as much as you didn’t want to. You dropped your key onto the bowl that held it on the kitchen side, and looked at the floor. The rusty metal bucket had overflowed, water just starting to tip over the side.

You knew you should empty it out and put it back, but looking up, the small leak seemed to have grown larger. The man did the say the ceiling was at risk. You pulled out one of the two chairs at your kitchen table and sat down, staring at the forming puddle. Where earlier in the day irritation and bitterness had been rising to press against your chest, now there was only faint emptiness and a perpetual longing for something you couldn’t recognise. It made you think of the papers thrown all over the floor of your office back at work. It made you think of Johnny, in a strange way. It made you think of the help wanted sign in the window of the shop. Tomorrow, you promised yourself. When you got that second job tomorrow, things would only be on the up.

///

           By the time you got to work the next day, you were late. Or you would have been if Ada hadn’t told the under-boss that you had an appointment to be at that morning. You took that as a thank you for her being late back the other day, and a good thank you at that. Though that had been the only positive for the day. Applying for jobs always set you too on edge, made you too nervous. I’ve done it now, but it was the waiting you hated most.

           The rest of the day you had spent tucked away in your office, picking up your papers and re-organising them while ignoring the growing want to see Johnny that was spreading through you. You had gone a year and a half without so much as speaking a single word to him, you were sure you could go a few weeks.

           And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. For the entire day as you finished the work you hadn’t done yesterday and the work you needed to get done today, you were thinking about him. From the way his hands felt on you to the way his lips felt on you. Even down to the way he spoke. All of it had made you feel almost like you had your friend back, only he was a little different. Maybe you just felt like you had a friend again.

           He showed up again when you had almost finished your day’s work. You had paused midway through writing a sentence to try and guess if the pattering noise you heard was rain or something else. It had made dread fill up within you, imagining the bucket filling up and soaking into your floorboards again. Though, partially, the blame for that is on me. But if it happened again, you didn’t know if the floorboards would hold steady or start to rot.

           Then you heard a knock on the door of your office, and out of fear of it being the under-boss coming in to press more about your late appearance you only yelled back a quick, “Come in.” And then he was walking straight into your office, hesitating only to see if there was another chair somewhere. When there wasn’t, he settled to lean against the walking, kicking the door shut absentmindedly behind him.

           You rose your eyebrows at him, like your natural instinct when you saw him in any mundane setting was to question it. “What’re you doing here?”

           He didn’t laugh in response. His lips didn’t even twitch upwards in a grin he couldn’t quite suppress. The only feeling you could distinguish from him was light vexation. “Doyoung mentioned that you went around there looking for a job.”

           It surprised you that Doyoung and Johnny even had any ties to one another. Their lines of work didn’t seem as if they’d cross at any point, though you supposed most men in any kind of business would seek each other out to grow their circle of affluent friends. Bitterness was resting in your chest again.

           “And?”

           Johnny made a face. “And why do you need another job?”

           You dropped your pen down onto the desk. “Do I need to tell you every time I consider making a decision now?”

           “We’re friends, aren’t we? That’s what friends do.”

           You thought about the events of yesterday and wondered what the answer to that was. “What do you want me to say?” You asked after a moment.

           He breathed in sharply. “I don’t know. Tell me why you need another job or something. This one seems perfectly fine.”

           Perfectly fine, but not enough. Nothing ever is. You didn’t want to have to tell him that though. But thinking of lies on the spot had never been your strong point. Now, sitting there right in front of an attractive stranger-who-isn’t-a-stranger, your skills seemed to have gotten even worse. “I need the money.” You muttered finally, keeping your voice low enough for you to hope that he wouldn’t hear it at all.

           The room was too small and the noise coming from the main room was too low. He heard, made a face of acceptance, and then fell into silence. You didn’t know whether his lack of response was a good sign, that maybe your work ethic had surprised him into silence. Though you could only guess his thought process was one of pity. The thought made you cringe.

           “You can’t get a job there.” He sounded apologetic.

           You looked up at him, screwing your face up. “What do you mean?”

           He loosened up, stepping away from the wall and further into the room. “Dirty money.”

           A light laugh passed your lips then. “I’m pretty sure all money you earn in Chicago is dirty.”

           He shrugged, though a hesitant smile was beginning to light his features up. “The job’s not for anyone who won’t be…you know, making the money directly.”

           You huffed. “Why’d he advertise it in the window, then?”

           “Usually everyone’s assumption is that every job in Chicago is a little bit illegal, at least.”

           Nodding, you picked your pen back up. All on the up. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. If it was happening to anyone else, you thought you might find it funny. But the leaking ceiling, the looking for a second job, the never being able to afford anything other than necessities – that was your life. You couldn’t laugh at it until it wasn’t anymore.

           “Why do you need the money?” Johnny asked quietly, the floorboards creaking as he moved closer to you.

           You laughed bitterly, not letting yourself look up at him in case there were tears in your eyes. “You know, the normal stuff. And…” you didn’t want to say it.

           “And?” He pressed.

           “God, I don’t know.” You sighed, suddenly feeling all too suffocated, pushing your chair away from the desk. “I’ve been looking for another job for a while now.” You murmured, hoping it would explanation enough for your sudden drop in interest to the conversation.

           Johnny felt back into a silence that you could only describe as pensive. The room itself seemed to still in its wait for his answer. The only sign that the moment hadn’t completely frozen in time was the noise and movement coming from the main room.

           He cleared his throat, swiping away invisible dust from his hands before mumbling a quick, “I could help you out.”

           You were shaking your head before he finished speaking. Often times, handouts either came because of pity or in expectancy of being payed back. You wanted neither of those things. “I’m not taking handouts.” You declared, picking your pen back up to provide some security for yourself.

           For a minute he looked hesitant. Really, truly hesitant – like he didn’t know if he should say what he wanted to. In a moment of boldness, he let the words slip out. “What if it wasn’t a handout?”

           “What?”

           “What if you, sort of, worked for me?”

           You put the pen back down. The action was beginning to feel repetitive. “I thought you didn’t want me working with dirty money directly.”

           “Who said my money was dirty?” You scoffed, looking back to the desk as he sighed. “I didn’t mean, well, I didn’t mean working, as in typical working.”

           Scepticism showed on all of your features as it ran through you. “Get to the point, Johnny.”

           The same hesitation came back to him. “There’s a lot of, parties, and dinners and stuff when you’re in business.” He started. You nodded and gestured for him to continue. “Everyone brings someone with them, but I, well, I don’t.” He went silent.

           “Are you asking me to come to dinner parties with you?”

           “Sort of.”

           “And you’d pay me for it?”

           “Yes.” It was a statement but he made it sound closer to a question.

           You breathed out heavily, the confusion making your head throb. “Why would you do that? Couldn’t you just ask a girl on a date?”

           He shrugged, as if making up a reason was too much for him to be bothered with. “I’d buy you nice dresses for them, if you wanted. You could come spend some nights at my house. Maybe, if you liked it, you wouldn’t have to work here at all.”

           “Johnny,” you mumbled, standing up, “I really don’t understand. What would I be doing?”

           His arms curled around your waist. “Pretending,” he said, “pretending that you’re in love with me and that we’re one of those icy affluent couples.”

           “Why pretend when you could go out and make the real thing for yourself?”

           “How would that help you?”

           “You’re doing this for me?”

           He shrugged again. “Well, half and half.”

           Despite yourself, you laughed lightly, dropping your head against his chest. “I’d be getting payed, like I get payed here? To go to fancy dinners?”

           “If you needed me to.”

           “What does that mean?”

           “Well, you know, if you spend some time at my place and liked it, you could just move in.”

           Part of you wanted to recoil, though you stayed in your spot. “That seems like a quick decision.” You huffed. “It all sounds very nice, Johnny, but what happens when you actually meet someone you love? Where would I go?”

           “Can’t you just let me answer that question if we get there?” Something about the ‘if’ gave you a childish hope.

           This is ridiculous. I don’t even know how to make conversation. What a stupid idea. But your ceiling was going to cave in. Even if it didn’t, it was still leaking. You had been looking for a second job for far too long now. You hated the smell of whisky and men packed into bars.

           You breathed out deeply, half in a sigh and half in exasperation at yourself. “Well, things really can’t get any worse.” You untangled yourself from him, searching his face again before answering. “I accept.”

           His lips lifted, the same amusement from the day before coming back to his eyes. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered nervously. I’m ridiculous. How stupid can I be? “You accept?” He grinned.

           “Sure. Why not?”

///

           The first dinner was three days later. You had been coming and going to your work at the bar as usual, too nervous to accept that Johnny’s offer had been real and not some desperate fever dream. In those three days, he’d come by for a few moments at least on each, usually muttering the same comment about you not needing the job anymore. You never had an answer other than a shrug, too embarrassed to ask, ‘is this real? Is this really happening? Have I really gotten lucky?’

           His car was waiting outside for you when you left, just as he had promised earlier in the day that it would be. When you climbed inside, taking a nervous glance at him like you would a stranger you got into a car with, he chuckled lightly. Sometimes you wondered if he looked at you as a stranger or as someone he knew. Or maybe something in-between.

           “I wanted to get you a dress.” He told you, driving you down the main-street in a direction you hadn’t been in before. It seemed uncomfortably surprising to you to see the lines of stores you had never had the money to even consider going into before. It was even more uncomfortable to imagine spending someone else’s money in them.

           “Are you sure?” You asked, though you weren’t sure why. If he decided he wasn’t, you were back to the starting line.

           “Why wouldn’t I be?”

           “I’m not seeing how beneficial this is to you. I’m not giving you anything back.”

           He grinned over at you, laughing softly as he moved one of his hands to grip your thigh. “Would you believe me if I said the pleasure of your company is enough benefit?”

           Scoffing, you shook your head, looking back out the window. “I just might, since I’m such a delight and all.”

           Laughing again, he slowed the car to a stop. When you looked up at the shop, you couldn’t stop yourself from gaping. From the outside, you could tell the inside was nicer than your house. And a single dress inside was probably worth more than everything you owned.

           You wanted to ask him if he was sure again, but instead you just let him come round and open the car door for you. You slipped yourself out, feeling his arm curl around your waist as soon as your feet hit the floor. He walked you both up to the door, and in an odd way you felt like you were about to be turned away. In your clothes, looking at the glossy interior of the building, you felt out of place and awkward. Like everyone would be able to tell the second they saw you.

           The woman at the desk smiled brightly as you approached. “What can I help you both with today?” She asked, smiling again. You felt surprise purely at her customer service. No one at the bar was payed enough to put that much effort into their delivery.

           Johnny sensed your lack of confidence in answering. “We have a reservation under Seo.” He told her.

           She nodded, still smiling, and looked down at the books, flipping around a few pages before looking back up. “Of course, sir.” He moved then, walking you both backwards.

           He grinned at the surprise on your face. You felt like a child in a playground far too big for them. He gestured to the door furthest away from the entrance. “That’s the ladies dressing room. Tell them you have the Seo reservation.”

           You nodded. “Where are you going?”

           Laughing, he gestured to a different door. “To the men’s dressing room.”

           “Right.” You shook your head.

           He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, shoving you lightly in the direction of the ladies dressing room. “Don’t be nervous.” He assured, turning away from you and towards the other door.

           You paused anxiously, tapping your knuckles quietly against the wooden door. The speed at which it sprung open in front of you almost made you stumble back. But the woman standing on the inside was smiling brightly, and there was something in the curves of age on her face that made a strange part of you feel safe, like her face itself was friendly.

           “Seo reservation?” She asked, moving aside to let you walk in.

           “Uh, yeah.” You answered, looking at your hands as you tangled your fingers together nervously.

           She smiled softly at you, the most typical way of showing pity. She caught your hands and pulled you in the direction of rows upon rows of dresses of all different fabrics and shapes. “Is this your first time here?” You nodded. “Do you know what your reservation says you’re getting today?” Johnny had failed to mention that, you shook your head. She laughed. “Well, you’re getting a dress for a dinner party, and another for today.”

           You didn’t even want to think about how much a single one of the dresses here would cost, let alone two. “Who, uh, who picks those?”

           She smiled softly again, giving you the same look you’d give to a child who had hurt themselves. “I’ve picked out some options for you to choose from.” You nodded, watching as she moved to a certain row and pointed them out. All of them were prettier than all of the things you owned.

           It took you longer than it should have to pick two of the dresses. Every one seemed too nice to see put back on a shelf somewhere until some other rich woman decided that was pretty enough for her. Thinking of ‘some other rich woman’ was also odd, though for different reasons.

           Putting the dress on was the strangest thing you’d done in a while. Stepping into the fabric felt like accidentally stumbling into Johnny’s world. You felt inept, and the tightness of the dress only served to make you feel suffocated. Though the woman gushed a thousand different compliments as she saw you finally dressed. You wondered whether that was part of the job, or genuine joy at seeing you out of your own clothes that now seemed impossibly drab in comparison.

           When it was finally time to leave, the woman explained that the dresses would be payed for at the front desk. She handed you two price tags and wished you a nice day. You clutched the paper tightly in your hands, too scared to look at the price for either. The idea of having to add two numbers that you could only imagine were inconceivably high together was making your head hurt already.

           Johnny was already out by the time you were walking back to the front desk. His back was to your door, and he was busy throwing money down on the counter. You felt a desperate need to ask if he was sure again. But then, as he’d said himself, why wouldn’t he be? He didn’t seem like the type of person to not know what he was thinking. Unlike you, who couldn’t decide whether or not you were even okay with having two dresses bought for you. Even if I could never buy it for myself.

           He turned around when he heard your shoes on the floorboards. He breathed in sharply, and made a quiet humming sound as you got closer. Despite your wish to keep your head up high, the nerves drove you to drop your head as you reached him, handing him the paper price tags. He took a quick glance down at them both, placing them on the front desk before taking more money out and sliding it over to the woman.

           The ease in which he did it made you breathe in sharply. You weren’t sure if that was because of how much it was to throw away, or the innate attractiveness of the action. The memory of that day in your office was slowly coming back into your mind. A flush of heat was creeping up your neck to meet your cheeks.

           “Johnny?”

           He hummed as he looked down at you, slipping his arm around his waist as the woman handed you both back the clothes. “Yes?”

           “Where are we going now?” You asked, trying to keep your steps in line with his ones as he walked you both back outside.

           “Lunch, maybe. Do you want something to eat?” He asked, walking round to open the car door for you.

           After you’d settled back into your seat, you looked at him, curling your fingertips around the inward sides of his jacket. “Like back to your house?” You mumbled, feeling his free hand grip your thigh.

           A complacent grin turned his lips upwards as he cocked his head at you. “Do you think I have a café in my house?” He teased. You groaned, gripping the sides of his jacket tighter. He pressed a light kiss to your lips, moving away before you could deepen it. “You know I didn’t mean you have to sleep with me for money, right? Because that’d feel a little too much for me.”

           You laughed, shaking your head. “I promise I’m not looking to get payed for this.”

           There was an odd look in his eye for a fleeting second before it was replaced with amusement again. “As long as you promise.” You nodded, and he hummed in disapproval. “You have to use your words.”

           You paused, wondering how long you could hold out if you decided not to say it. You didn’t decide to test it out. “I promise.” Then the warmth of his body was replaced with the cold air and he was moving back around to his side of the car. You slipped your legs inside properly and shut the door, hoping to close out the promise of more rain.

           The drive back was more excruciating that you had wished it would be. Even staring out the window at the passing of new buildings wasn’t enough to keep you distracted from the weight of Johnny’s hand on your thigh. Whenever you stole desperate glances over at him, he seemed entirely unbothered, face blank and eyes staring forward. Rain was beginning to patter against the roof, though for once it didn’t worry you. It only felt like background noise. You barely noticed when the car stopped moving, too focused on the focused look on Johnny’s face. It felt stupid, and verging on childish, to be so enamoured with the simplest things that he did.

           For a moment after he stopped driving, he caught your eyes, tilting his head at you. He was searching again, looking for something that he didn’t seem to be able to find. In a strange way, it felt a lot like you were doing the same. He pushed the door on his side open and slipped himself out into the rain. You mirrored his action, though he got to your side before the door swung open properly. He caught it before it could slam into him, cocking his head at you and quirking a brow.

           “Sorry,” you mumbled, letting him offer his hand to help you out. Whenever you’d been caught in rain before, it hadn’t seemed of any importance at all. Now, wearing a dress that cost more than you were willing to think about, an anxious need to be somewhere dry was overcoming you.

           Johnny didn’t seem to have the same concern. His pace was almost leisurely, his arm curled around your waist as seemed his favourite resting place. You couldn’t particularly complain about the offhanded affection anymore, the warmth in his hold far nicer than the biting cold of the outside air.

           If you had been gaping up at the exterior of his house, the inside was almost enough to knock you off your feet. It was nicer than any house you’d been in before, let alone your own. The hall that opened straight from the front door was decorated with golden-painted wooden furniture and ornate fixtures that made your picture of the price tags from today look like child’s play. You swallowed thickly, suddenly self-conscious of every movement you made against the marble of the floor. Everything seemed impossibly fragile, even if rationally it wasn’t. The idea of brushing against any of the items in just the hall made you nervous.

           “You like it?” Johnny asked quietly, curling his arms around your waist as you stared at the painting on the wall. He littered light kisses across your neck, and you tried to clear your head enough to answer.

           “It’s rich.” You mumbled.

           He exhaled a laugh, his breath fanning across the skin of your neck. “Rich in what?”

           “Being rich.”

           He shook his head, turning you towards him. “You’re alright.” He said quietly. “It’s okay.” He assured.

           You tilted your head at him. “I know.”

           “Do you know that you fit here?” He asked, cupping your face in his hands.

           You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “I don’t,” you mumbled, kissing his fingertips, “but I’m not sure I mind that.”

           He hummed, turning you in the direction of the stairs. “As long as you’re alright.” He mumbled, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

           Walking ahead of him felt unnatural, especially when you didn’t know what direction you were taking the two of you. But with his hands gripping tightly onto your hips and pushing you in the right direction, the nerves felt dulled and unnecessary. “You know I am,” you mumbled. His lips were still attached your neck, now leaving marks in their path downwards.

           When you stumbled into a closed door, Johnny detangled himself from you. The few seconds it took for him to push his bedroom door open seemed like too long to have his hands away from you. He tugged you into the room behind him, slamming his lips against yours as soon as you’d pushed the door shut behind you. His hands pushed your dress up as he spun you in a different direction. Your lack of awareness about your surroundings was something you knew you should be thinking about, but the feeling of his hands mapping out over your body seemed too good to waste with letting your mind wander anywhere else.

           When you felt the bed hit the back of your knees, you were reminded again of the day in your office. A flush of heat moved through you as you tightened your grip on Johnny, letting him lift you just enough to be able to put you down on the bed.

           The sheets were soft and silky underneath you, and even the mattress felt welcoming enough to cool any nerves left over under the surface. His mouth was travelling down your neck again, though this time he was pulling your dress down to get more access. The way he adjusted the fabric so carelessly caused your heart to rise into your throat, being able to imagine nothing but him throwing away that pile of money for nothing.

           He didn’t seem too intent on letting you have too much time to think. With his body hovering over yours and his hands getting closer to where you wanted them, your brain didn’t seem to want to work properly. You couldn’t particularly blame yourself. Small hums of his name were the only thing leaving your mouth, even if the strange fear of having another room full of people so close to you still lingered.

           Johnny moved further down your body, kissing over the satin fabric of your dress that was starting to feel all too suffocating as you laughed lightly at him. He grinned lazily, pushing your dress to bunch up at your waist like he had done with your skirt. You let your head fall back further into the comfort of the sheets and the pillows.

           He curled his fingers into your underwear, pulling them down your legs until you kicked them the rest of the way off. The familiarity of the action made your lips lift upwards. His lips pressed lingering kisses to the inside of your thighs, this time, he took his time to leave marks behind. Even if his actions weren’t supposed to be teasing, you couldn’t help but feel that way. A light whine left your mouth as you lifted your hips up from the mattress.

           Johnny only laughed, slipping his forearm over your hips and pushing them back down. He waited another moment, simply observing you as you huffed at him before he moved away from you. Rising up from the bed completely and sitting on the chair at the far side of the room.

           “You want me to touch you?” He asked, eyes full of that usual amusement. You swallowed the pride bubbling up in the back of your throat and nodded over at him. “Then earn it.” He declared.

           “Or I could just do everything myself.” You grumbled, drawing a laugh from him.

           “You could, but you won’t.”

           He was right. Your curiosity was too peaked to not even try to flatter him. “What do you want me to do?” You asked quietly, suddenly too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

           He hummed, as if in mock deep thought. The sound drew another frustrated huff from you, the heat from earlier still making your cheeks flush. The room fell into silence as you stared at the silk sheets. When you worked up your nerves enough to catch his eye again, he was observing you patiently. The look in his eye made you press your thighs together.

           For a long minute it felt like he was just taunting you, waiting to see how much you could take before you had to look away again. The feeling of being challenged was enough of a reason for you to keep your eyes focused on him, even if the confidence in your gaze was artificial.

           A hint of pride was in his eyes when he finally moved, gesturing down at his lap and beckoning you forward. The same air of confidence and power was radiating from him as when he made his way through crowds and watched people move out of his path. It was something you weren’t sure you disliked anymore. There was no bitterness in the back of your throat as you swallowed, only a vague ball of nerves.

           You rose from the bed, almost slipping off and onto the carpeted floor when your dress fell back into place and glided along the silk of the sheets. You managed to balance yourself easily enough, catching your feet onto the floor before you royally embarrassed yourself. It was only when you were stood right in front of Johnny, with his eyes raking over your form, that you faltered again, pausing and not knowing what to do with yourself.

           His hands spread across your hips, pulling you to sit over one of his thighs. When you were finally in place, his hands moved away from you to rest on the arms of the chair. He looked up at your expectantly. “Go on, then.” When you hesitated again, he laughed lightly. “Or do you need my help again?”

           You felt your shoulders tighten in irritation. “Are you gonna help?” You muttered, raising your eyebrows.

           He shrugged, his hands already moving to grip your hips again. He bevelled his head at you as he dragged your core against the fabric of his trousers. The amusement was the only thing you could find in his eyes as your moans grew louder. “I always give in too easily,” he murmured, pulling your lips back to his.

           The kiss was slow and easy, though you were more distracted by the feeling of his thigh underneath you than his lips against yours. Any moans that tried to escape your mouth fell into his instead of getting any further. Though it wasn’t long before he seemed to grow tired of not hearing you as he pulled away.

           By then, the coil in your stomach had already begun to tighten, and the noises you were making were growing in volume. Just when you thought you were going to feel the coil unravel, Johnny’s palms flattened against your hips to stop you moving anymore.

           You huffed in annoyance, trying to move yourself again but not being able to push further past Johnny’s hold. “Johnny,” you groaned, gripping onto his wrist.

           “I did tell you I wanted to hear you beg.” He chided, curling his arms around your waist and rising to stand.

           You gripped to him tighter in surprise, holding back yet another huff as he laughed at you. “What if I don’t want to?”

           He shrugged, dropping you ungraciously onto the bed, making you bounce slightly as you landed. He laughed again, “Maybe I won’t give in this time.”

           You hummed as he leaned down to hover over you again. “You always give in too easily.” You curled your arms around his shoulders and tugged lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck.

He pushed your dress further up to bunch at your hips again, pulling himself away from you for a moment as he dropped his suit jacket onto the floor. His shirt went next, and finally his hands went to grip his belt. When he’d finally gotten himself undressed, he put your hands together and rested them above your head. He paused for a moment, tilting his head at you as you nodded quickly. He wrapped the belt around your hands, tightening it until he knew you couldn’t get out of it yourself.

He reconnected your lips, pushing your legs further apart to fit himself back between them. The moan of surprise that left you as Johnny pushed inside of you was swallowed by Johnny’s mouth on yours. The pace he set was far slower than you wanted it to be, though he didn’t seem to take note of the whines that weren’t able to leave your mouth.

You pulled away from him, “Faster,” you whined.

He slowed down. “What was that?”

You bit down on your bottom lip. “Please,” you mumbled quietly, too quietly for you to fully hear yourself.

“What was that?” He picked up his speed just slightly.

You groaned, half in annoyance and half at the increase of speed. “Please, Johnny.” You said again.

“Please what?”

“Faster, please.”

He finally set a faster pace, letting his hand move between your legs as you moaned louder. When you finally felt the coil begin to form again in your stomach, you let out an embarrassed few murmurs of, ‘please.’ Johnny made no show of having heard you, or if he had, he made no show of caring about your begging.

He bit down onto your shoulder as you moaned louder. “Johnny, please,” you whined, feeling tears prick at your eyes of him denying you again.

He chuckled softly, nodding as his nose bumped against yours before he pressed his lips back to yours. This kiss was more rushed, his free hand wondering as you tilted your head further upwards to deepen the kiss.

He pulled his lips away from yours just as the coil in your stomach started to unravel. His lips didn’t seem to be able to choose one place to kiss. “You’re so beautiful,” he muttered, “so, so beautiful.”

Your head was too fuzzy for you to be able to form words. All you could fully compute was the silk of the sheets against your skin underneath you, and Johnny’s lips pressing lazy kisses to your neck as he slowed a stop. You weren’t even sure when he’d hit his own high, though you knew that he had.

He stayed still for a moment, just stroking his thumb across your cheek before he moved away from you. Oddly, having the heat from his body disappear from above you made you feel empty. He reached to undo the belt that held your hands, and then brought them to his lips to press fleeting kisses there.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, leaning up to kiss him lightly again.

Johnny hummed, moving away from you for a moment as you dropped back to lie on the bed again. You noted then that there was a chandelier hanging from his ceiling. The sight made a cross between a breathy laugh and a disbelieving scoff pass your lips.

“Here,” Johnny mumbled, making you look up at him. He handed you a white-dress shirt that felt clean and soft when you held it.

“Thank you,” you mumbled again, getting up to take the dress off carefully and place it on the chair Johnny had been sat on earlier. When you got back to the bed, you pulled the shirt on, only bothering to do up two of the buttons before flopping to lie on his chest. He pressed a drawn out kiss to your forehead. “Is there really a dinner party tonight?” You mumbled against his chest.

He laughed tiredly, his chest rumbling as he did. “We don’t lie to each other, remember?”

You breathed out a laugh, pushing yourself up from his chest slightly. You glared at him for a long minute before shrugging. “I suppose.”

“Better start getting dressed soon.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to your temple. Part of you wanted to groan at the idea of moving and leaving the house again. The other part of you wanted to wrap yourself in silky fabric and eat a meal that was probably more expensive than all of the food in your house altogether. You hummed in acknowledgement of his words, starting to try and think of all the reasons to detangle yourself from him and start making yourself feel pampered enough to spend a night around people richer than you.

///

           The dinner hall was more than you had expected it to be, which was saying a lot on account of your imagination being particularly overactive when it came to splendour. When you walked in, Johnny’s arm curled lazily around your waist with him dressed in his newest suit, his air tidy and slick again in a way that made him look like he could own the building, you felt immediately out of place. The people surrounding you were about as glamorous as him. And just as rich, you knew. Which meant, of course, far richer than you.

           But then you remembered just how indistinctive you must seem in the situation. Dressed in golden silk, with your hair fixed prettily, you were entirely sure no one would offer you even a second glance for no reason other than to look at your exposed legs. The idea made you feel more confident, so whether or not it was true that no one could tell you were their least favourite thing – as it was, a very common person in the working class – you weren’t particularly bothered.

           Johnny had warned you before you even set off for the party that it would be a dull affair. When you’d first stepped into the hall, with its golden floor – that Johnny insisted was not real gold but was only paint, though you weren’t sure, you didn’t think you’d seen real gold often enough to be sure – and its rows of high chandeliers, and its tables full of rich looking food and decorated glasses, you hadn’t though that possible. Now, sat on your velvet lined chair and listening to Johnny and a table full of older men talk about business, you gave into the possibility that he might be right.

           Their discussions came to a stand still only when the staff came out to clear the tables and ask after everyone’s opinion on desert. Johnny had turned to you, almost as if to check you were still there. You were distracted by then, feeling a stab of guilt in your chest for the staff who had to tidy up after you and everyone else.

           He reached out to stroke his fingertip across your bare collarbones. “I should get you a golden necklace,” he mumbled, “it’d look nice on you.”

           “Gold looks nice on anyone, I’d think.” You laughed.

           He shrugged, grinning as he listened to you speak. “Everything looks nicer on you.”

           Making a noise of mock disgust, you knocked his hand away, feeling it immediately seek out to rest on your thigh. The action made your eyebrows raise as you looked back around the table as people spoke amongst themselves. “What’re you up to?”

           He laughed, lifting his hand further up the skin of your thigh as heat flushed through you. “Can’t I just rest my hand here?”

           “No.” You decided, stopping his hand before it could get any higher.

           “Don’t tell me,” he began, putting his hand back to its original place on your thigh, “you don’t want to do anything in public?”

           Scoffing, you shook your head, “I would never.”

           He bit back a laugh, but his grin told you all you needed to know. “Is this,” he lightly nodded to the table full of unfamiliar faces, “what, too public?”

           “If we get caught, it’s your business.”

           “Hey,” he defended, taking his hand away from your thigh, “my job’s attached very intimately to yours.”

           “Then keep your hands to yourself.”

           “Do I have to keep my hands to myself if we go, well, somewhere else?”

           You rose your eyebrows. “Do you not have any respect for your associates?”

           He grinned again, clutching your hand in his own and shrugging, “Not these ones.” He pulled you to stand with him, tightening his arm around your waist as he looked down at the table with a false look of concern on his features. “Excuse us,” his voice was arid and professional as the others at the table turned to look up at him, “but my girl’s not feeling too well, so I’m just going to help her find the bathrooms.” The table rose in a quiet murmur of acceptances and quick – and most likely detached – worries for you.

           And then he walked you both out of the hall. Only when you got back into the entrance hall with its red velvet carpet leading into the double doors of the dinner room did you let yourself laugh in disbelief. “You’re insane.”

           “If you had to look at yourself in this dress all night, you would be, too.” He defended, pushing the women’s bathroom door open and pulling you along beside him.

           The woman stood at the mirror startled when she saw Johnny beside you, before you cleared your throat. “Sorry, I’m, I’m not feeling very well. I thought it would be best if I wasn’t alone.” It sounded more like a suggestion than a statement.

           The woman nodded in acceptance, smiling pitifully at you the way older women always did with young girls. “That’s quite alright, I hope you feel better soon.” She didn’t offer Johnny the same courtesy, only sharpening her eyes at him and moving past him.

           When the door banged shut behind her, the two of you snickered as he pushed you towards the closest stall. His lips quickly found yours, nose bumping against yours as his hands slid up your dress as soon as he had the lock drawn across.

           He pushed your back up against the side of the stall, his hands already trying to pull your underwear down. “This is quite possibility the least romantic thing I’ve ever done.” You scoffed.

           He pulled away from you, drawing an involuntary whine from your lips. He shook his head, “We can always wait until later, if it’s romance that you want.”

           Huffing, you pulled him back to you by his jacket, feeling the kiss speed up as his hands rushed to go back to where they had been before. His hands curled underneath your thighs, gripping tightly enough for you to have to catch a moan before it passed your lips.

           “Jump,” he mumbled, pressing your back further up against the wall.

           You hesitation for a second, pulling away to offer him a sceptical look before doing as he’d told you. He caught you, keeping you steadily pressed to the stall’s wall. The grip he had on your thighs drew a groan from your lips as his own travelled down your neck. His fingers curled around the sides of your underwear in a manner that was becoming all too familiar. When he’d finally gotten them almost all the way down, he chuckled, shaking his head at himself as they got stuck. He dropped your legs back to the floor, watching you laugh at him as you kicked them off. Johnny caught them before they hit the floor, tucking them into his pocket. You laughed breathily at him, letting him lift you back into your previous position.

           He dropped down to his knees, lifting your legs so they were resting across his shoulders as he placed his mouth straight onto your core. His lack of teasing drew a shocked moan from your lips, your head dropping back to hit the stall wall. As per his usual act, the second your fingers went to tangle in his hair, he pulled away from you. The feeling in your stomach faded as he rose to stand up again, a complacent look settling over his features.

           “Do you know how to be nice?” You huffed, wrapping your legs around his waist again.

           He struggled to unbutton his trousers, grunting at the effort. The complacent look came back as soon as he had them undone, as if he had done everything smoothly in the first place. “I could be a lot meaner.” He promised, pressing his lips to your neck as he pushed into you.

           You dug your nails into his shoulders, dropping your head onto his shoulder to bite down and keep yourself quiet. Back in the room at the bar, you had only been distantly aware of the crowds of people in the other room. Now, with the tables full of people you would have previously thought of as elite with only a hallway to separate them from you and Johnny, you couldn’t be more aware of anything.

           Even with that lingering in the back of your mind, Johnny still made it difficult for you to be able to think of anything other than the way the coil in your stomach felt like forming heat. His lips were on your neck again, leaving behind a series of fresh marks that you were sure would get you some odd stares when you returned back to the table. His hands were gripping your thighs, though you could practically feel his disappointment as not being able to map out over your body like he hadn’t done it before by now.

           This time, when his groans grew slightly in volume, you pulled your head away from where you had been softening your volume in the crook of his neck to be able to see his face screw up as he hit his high. His eyebrows furrowed as dropped his head back, the muscles of his arms tightening as his nails dug into the bare skin of your thighs. You had to drop your head back onto his shoulders when the coil in your stomach began to unravel again.

           By the time the two of you had caught your breath, you hoped that your legs would be steady enough to uphold yourself when he set you back down. On the slight heel of your shoes, your hope suddenly seemed bleak. You wavered, feeling Johnny wrap his arm around your waist to keep you balanced.

           You glared at him. “I thought we came in here to be more discreet.”

           He laughed, “You looked bored, I’m just trying to keep things exciting for you.”

           “I thought I was working? Is work ever supposed to be exciting?”

           A grin turned up his lips. “I think you’ll find this job a little more fulfilling than most.”

           He opened the bathroom door, taking a quick look out before walking the two of you back in the direction of the heavy oaken double doors into the dinner hall. “I don’t feel like I’m working at all.” You mumbled, shifting to look away from him.

           Johnny laughed loudly, pulling open one of the doors as a few sets of eyes turned to look back at you. “Don’t look at it like a job then.”

           You sighed at him, tilting your head up at him as he grinned arrogantly at you. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

           His smile softened, though it stayed dashed across his features as you both reached your table again. He paused for a minute as he pulled your chair out for you, the searching look coming back to his face. This time, he seemed to find whatever he was looking for. “I’ve missed you.” He said quietly, tucking your chair back in.

           You thought, maybe he isn’t so different as I thought he was. You caught his hand in your own, gripping it tightly as you smiled. “I’ve missed you, too.” You responded. And even if the words felt foreign on your tongue, you thought, I’m telling the truth.

[imaginepirates]

Twenty-First Century

A fic for @tiny--spock about James getting stuck in modern times. I decided to include a little personal stuff, like the setting of the story. I lived next to Seattle for a while (I don’t anymore), but I loved it. Forgive me this indulgence.

@emdrabbles​ @tesserphantom​ @paljonkaikenlaista​ @viper-official​ @wordsinwinters​

~3150 words

~~~~~~~

           The rain flowed over your umbrella in rivulettes, dropping off the edges to plunk onto the ground. It was a peaceful rain, but cold, so there were few people outside. You made your way to the bus stop, returning from the library. The forecast predicted rain for the next few days. You figured it was as good a time as any to pick up the books you’d been meaning to read.

          You picked out a lone figure at the end of the street. You might not have given him a second glance, but he had no umbrella. It rained often where you lived; everyone knew to keep an umbrella on them. You watched him turn around a couple of times, looking hopelessly lost. You’d have to pass him, and figured you might as well take him to the covered area of the bus stop. He was probably soaked already, and your effort would make no difference, but you figured it was the thought that counted.

          As you drew closer, you noticed his strange clothing. From a distance, his long coat hadn’t been out of the ordinary, but up close, you could see the brass buttons and golden epaulettes. His pants, too, looked more like breeches out of a Jane Austen novel than anything someone would normally wear.

          He paid you no mind, hardly noticing your approach. It was only when you were directly next to him that he seemed to see you.

          “Would you like to share my umbrella?” You asked. “There’s a covered space not far from here, if you’d like me to…” Your words died in your throat as the man turned to you.

          “I’d appreciate it.” He gave you a tight smile that you were only used to seeing from the screen of a TV. “Thank you.”

          You wondered for a moment if you’d slipped and hit your head, and if you were trapped in some sort of hallucination. It would explain a lot. Otherwise, you had a fictional character standing right next to you. You almost pinched yourself, but thought it might be rude, so you decided against it. You reminded yourself at the last minute not to stare.

          In a daze, you held up your umbrella, sharing it with him. Then you turned and walked to the bus stop, thankful your feet had memorized the way. This is fine, you thought. I’m just going crazy, is all.

          You weren’t sure if you should be thankful for the emptiness of the bus stop or not. With nobody there, you had to try talking to your companion.

          Thankfully, he started the conversation for you. “I’m afraid I’m a bit lost.” The look of embarrassed confusion on his face made him look, to you, a little like a lost puppy.

          “I’d say that’s probably true, Mr…” You let him fill in the blank. It would probably be creepy if you told him you already knew who he was.

          “Norrington.”

          “Where are you looking to go?”

          Norrington looked around, staring at the streets and buildings. “I’m not quite sure, if truth be told. Ah, perhaps it might help me to know where exactly I am?”

          The look of mortification on his face was complemented by the awkwardness on yours. “You’re in Seattle, Washington.”

          “Right,” he said, though he clearly had no concept of where either Seattle, nor Washington, was.

          Oh god, you thought. America wasn’t even around in his time-period. We were still a colony. “And,” you continued, “if it would interest you, we’re in the twenty-first century.”

          You were sure you’d never seen a person so pale before. He looked, for a frightening moment, like he was going to be sick.

          The bus pulled into view, catching the attention of both of you. James looked confused, and might have asked you what a bus was if you hadn’t spoken first.

          “If anyone asks, we were at a convention,” you said. This earned you another look, but you pulled Norrington onto the bus before he could ask.

          The bus had blissfully few people in it, and nobody gave you or Norrington a second glance. This was Seattle, after all. It was best not to wonder, sometimes. With nobody talking to you, you and James sat next to each other in awkward silence, dripping little puddles of water onto the floor.

          You led him off at your stop, hurrying him to your apartment before your neighbors could see you with a strange man. It was difficult to keep the umbrella in the right place; James was considerably taller than you were, and it proved hard not to hit the top of his head. You struggled with your ring of keys for a moment, desperately trying to find the one to your apartment as quickly as possible. Once inside, you ushered him in and shut the door firmly behind you.

          You stared at him blankly before remembering any sort of hospitality. The rules had changed since his age, and you hoped taking his coat and hanging it in a closet would be close enough to what he was used to.

          This still meant that you had a dripping wet man in your house who probably wouldn’t dry out very soon. Wordlessly, you led him to the bathroom, handing him a towel. He understood well enough, so you stepped out to give him some privacy. Then, you realized that you had no clothes for him to change into. Damn.

          By a miracle of god, or whatever divine power was out there (most people in Seattle considered Bigfoot the local deity), you found a sweatshirt and pants your dad had left at your apartment ages ago. You’d stuffed them in the back of your closet, a gift to the void, and had thoroughly forgotten about them.

          You knocked on the door to the bathroom, told James you were setting some clothes outside, and you made your way to the kitchen, where you decided to wait. Then, you pinched yourself for real. This is a character from a movie. I’ve read fanfiction about him! It was an awful realization. You’d read lots of things about him, and held discourse over his character. You’d fantasized about him, even. I. Am. Insane. It’s official.

          You were torn from your thoughts by James entering the room. The pants were a little short, but the sweatshirt seemed to fit, which you were thankful for. He looked awkward, standing in the doorway, and you motioned for him to sit.

          “Hungry?” You asked. Even if he wasn’t, food was a great way to hide awkwardness, so you would make some anyway. You ended up making bagels, and James nearly fell out of his chair when the toaster went off. You had to smile at that; it was too cute not to.

          You both hid behind your food, and you observed the surprised look of someone who had just discovered refrigerated cream cheese. When you were done eating, you set the dishes in the sink. You and James made awkward eye contact, and you couldn’t help but ask what was on your mind.

          “How did you end up here?” You asked. In the movies, he had died, of course, so how he ended up by your bus stop baffled you.

          “I don’t particularly know, actually. There was a hurricane, and I was knocked unconscious, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in the rain.”

          “Right.” That solves that, then. The hurricane James had chased Jack through somehow transported him here, to you. “We’ll find a way to get you back home.” You had no idea how, though. The chances of your being able to return him to his own universe were next to zero. You just didn’t have the heart to tell him.

          “While you’re stuck here, though, we have to set some rules,” you continued. “I have a job. I’ll be gone for most of the day. If you leave the apartment, people are going to notice that you’re… a little odd. You’re going to have to stay inside.” You showed him the pantry, and all the things he could make for himself for food. “I’ll teach you to use the stove later,” you promised.

          You showed him around, teaching him how to work things. He was fascinated by the most basic appliances; he switched the lights on and off a few times before believing they were real.

          “You’ve come a long way.” He looked around in awe. The shower, the stove, and electricity were all new to him. “I wish we had some of this where I came from.”

          You wished he had more clothes. You vowed to find some the next day.

          There was the dilemma of sleeping arrangements. You lived by yourself, and thus owned one bed. You had a couch, but you figured it would be rude to offer it to him. You found yourself throwing out the awkward suggestion of sleeping together. Norrington looked appalled.

          “I can build a wall of pillows between us,” you suggested half-heartedly. “Though I’m afraid the bed might be too small for that.”

          Though James insisted that he sleep on the floor, you finally managed to convince him otherwise. You found your back pressed against his, hardly daring to breathe. You both lay perfectly still, trying not to disturb the other. You could feel the heat of his back through the T-shirt you were wearing to bed. No doubt he could feel you just as acutely.

          When you woke, you were stiff as a board. You hadn’t changed positions all night. Neither, as it seemed, had James. He was just as stiff, and looked just as tired, too.

          “Good morning,” you said, rolling over.

          “Morning.” He had rolled onto his side, too, so you were facing each other. He blushed a little, being so close to you, and you found yourself doing the same.

          You introduced him to cereal not long after, and left him with a few books to choose from to keep himself occupied while you were away. You had to work, and you figured books would keep him entertained.

          The day was made longer with the knowledge that James was waiting for you at home. You worried about him; everything was new to him, and you hoped curiosity wouldn’t get the better of him. You doubted it would, knowing how he was, but you couldn’t help the feeling that someone would see him, even if just through the window.

          Stopping by a store, you picked up some clothes on your way home. James needed more to wear than the single outfit your dad had left behind. You managed to get some variance, trying to appeal to a style that James might like, though you had no idea what he’d think of modern clothes.

          You came home to your neighbor, and elderly lady, watering the small potted plants at your doorstep. She smiled and straightened up as you walked by. “That’s a nice young man you have in there! I think you’d better keep him,” she said cheekily.

          You couldn’t help your blush, and you fumbled for words, nearly dropping the stack of clothes you carried. “You met him?”

          “Oh, he came out to help me water the hanging baskets. You know I can’t reach them well anymore.” She waved a hand dismissively. “That boy saw me through the window and came out to help me.”

          “How nice of him.” You were internally mortified, but you tried keeping that to yourself. You only hoped the woman hadn’t told any of your other neighbors about James.

          You pushed the door to your apartment open with a hip. James awaited you inside, sitting on the couch with a book in hand, a glass of water on the little table next to him. He looked up, smiling softly. “Literature has changed.”

          He was reading Dickens. It’s changed a lot more than that. “And are you enjoying it?”

          “Immensely. I love Shakespeare, but I can only read a play so many times.” He set the book down, stood, and offered to take the clothes from you. “Although, I’m afraid I don’t know the background to these books. I take it that the people of France were unhappy with the government?”

          “Are you reading A Tale of Two Cities?”

          “I am.”

          “You are correct. France spent too much money supporting other countries; it finally couldn’t support itself.”

          “Ah.”

          He set the clothes on the table. They were in bags, and you told him to peek through them to see what he liked. He thanked you as you prepared to make dinner. “I hear you met my neighbor today,” you said.

          “I did. A nice woman, though she asked a few questions I didn’t understand.”

          Of course. “And they were?”

          “She asked if we were ‘dating’, though I was unfamiliar with the term.”

          “What did you tell her?”

          “I said I was unsure.”

          You tried to stifle a laugh and failed. Glancing over your shoulder, you found James looking uneasy. “You might have given her the wrong idea of our relationship. Don’t be surprised if she tries convincing you to ask me out.”

          He blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know….”

          “Don’t worry about it.”

“What is dating, exactly? And she said something about a needle from space.”

You saw that your evening would be full of explaining. “Dating is quite a lot like courting, where you come from, but it’s less formal. Typically, a person dates multiple people before finding the person they’re going to marry.” James understood that, at least. “The Space Needle is a building downtown. It’s a quirky part of Seattle, and a good place for going on dates. Probably why she mentioned it.”

          James continued to look flustered as you cooked. You finished and set the table, eating in awkward silence. James seemed to enjoy his meal, which resolved some of your anxiety.

          “I can show you around tomorrow after work,” you offered. “Seattle is lovely. There’s a lot here, but I can give you the general tour.”

          “I think I’d enjoy that, thank you.”

          When you arrived home the next day after a long day of work, you found James trying to communicate with your Alexa. He was failing horribly, and you couldn’t help but laugh. He tapped it to see if it would turn on.

          “Having trouble?” You asked.

          “It started talking earlier. I was a bit afraid to touch the buttons, in case they did something odd,” he admitted.

          “Don’t worry. Alexa,” you called out, “play Vivaldi.”

          James took in a startled breath as the music started. He stared down at the device in fascination, and you explained how it worked.

          “Brilliant,” he said.

          You took him out to the car. As awful as it was to drive in Seattle, you didn’t live far from the downtown area, so it would be easy enough to get around. You climbed into the car, motioning for James to do the same. He braced himself against the dashboard when you started pulling out of your parking spot.

          “Think of it as a carriage with no horses.”

          He nodded, looking around at the car’s interior. He changed his focus to the surrounding area. Skyscrapers surrounded you as you drove into the city, some made almost entirely from glass. Advertisements were plastered across the fronts of buildings, and trees dotted the sidewalks next to you. Eventually, you came into view of the Space Needle, towering six hundred feet above you. James stared out the window like a child, enraptured. You thought it was adorable.

          You parked and walked around the space beneath the structure. The Space Needle looked a little like the Eiffel Tower, with three legs holding up a disc that sat at the top. A central scaffolding acted as an elevator shaft. The top held an observation deck from which a person could see the entire city. You thought of taking James up, but decided against it. No doubt it would scare him; it had scared you the first time you’d gone up.

          Instead, you took him down to the waterfront, a bustling area with lots to see. A giant ferris wheel was decked out in neon lights of all different colors. James gaped at the massive cargo ships passing by. A hundred shops dotted the piers, and the two of you windowshopped as you walked.

          You eventually grabbed a bite to eat in the public market. It was always full of people, and food of every sort could be found within its multiple levels. You settled on crepes, which James was vaguely familiar with. After dinner, you pulled out a package of gum, handing a piece to James.

          “Chew it,” you told him.

          Tentatively, he popped it in his mouth, chewing for a moment. “What exactly is the purpose of this?”

          “Enjoyment. But there’s a reason I gave it to you. You’ll see.” You led him out of the market and up into the street. A few blocks later, you found yourself at your destination. The alley was narrow, and there was seemingly nothing special about. At first glance, it looked like any other; brick walls, cobbles, and papers advertising a thousand different events plastered across the walls.

          As you walked to the end of the alley, the popularity of the spot became evident. The walls were covered in hundreds of thousands of pieces of gum. They were delightfully colorful, and gum stuck to every centimeter of space. Happily, you walked up to the wall, took your gum out of your mouth, and stuck it to a brick.

          James looked both disgusted and intrigued, and you couldn’t blame him. “It’s tradition, really,” you told him. “People have been putting gum here for years. Gross, yes, but also pretty cool.”

          James carefully stuck his piece to the wall, making sure not to touch anything else. “It’s very interesting to see the sorts of traditions you come up with. The future is an curious place.”

          “We say the same about the past.”

          He smiled. Looking at the wall again, he said, “People chew this just for the flavor?”

          “Yes, though it has other uses. It makes you concentrate harder. And some people chew it before a kiss, though the actual impact it has is debatable.”

          James flushed, and you did the same. The thought of kissing him was certainly attractive. It had been, for years.

          “Well,” he said bashfully, “there’s only one way to find out.”

          He took a step towards you, leaving little space between you. Then, slowly, he placed a careful kiss to your lips.

          “I hope I haven’t overstepped myself,” he breathed, stepping back.

          “No, you haven’t.” With that, you pulled him closer again, kissing him with a little more fervor.

          Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, having him around. He was a quick learner, after all. And a good kisser.

And for those of you wanting to see what the gum wall looks like:

[thelastspeecher]

Pirate AU - Down to Davy Jones’

This is a Gravity Falls AU, so naturally there is an equivalent to the portal incident, where Ford gets stuck somewhere for a long time.  Here is that moment in this AU.  Some angst, some Stangst, and some dad!Stan.

Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              Small footsteps sounded on the deck, immediately followed by Manly Dan’s distinctive, booming voice.

              “NO, Daisy, your DAD said no HARPOONS!” Daisy’s giggled response wasn’t legible through the closed door, but Stan knew that she wasn’t going to give up the weapon easily.

              “You should probably go help Dan,” Angie said. “We’re done with our meetin’.” Stan didn’t get up from his chair, set across from Angie’s desk.

              “No, we aren’t,” Stan said.  Angie looked up from the papers she was perusing.  “You finished saying your piece, now I have to say mine.”

              “I…didn’t realize ya had somethin’ to say,” Angie said, bemused.  She took off her reading glasses.  “What’s wrong?”

              “I’m just…”  Stan sighed.  “I’ve been thinking about the girls lately.”

              “I certainly hope so.  They are yer children.”

              “Not like-”  Stan huffed impatiently.  “I’ve been thinking about how they’re only three, but they live on a fucking pirate ship.”

              “And?”

              “Angie, you’re not dumb.  You can’t think this is a good environment for two toddlers!”

              “What do ya want to do?” Angie asked calmly. “Settle on land?  I’d stay at home, birthing and tending to children, and you’d find some professional, well-paying job?  Or maybe you’d want to pursue farmin’ like my pa.”

              “Not all of that.  Just the settling on land part.”

              “There aren’t a lot of options fer us on land. We’re wanted criminals, fer one thing.”

              “No one knows your real name,” Stan pointed out. “And I’m fine using your real last name, since Stan Pines is a known pirate.”  Angie sighed.  “I know that it would be difficult to figure out, but we can make it work.  I really think we should give up the whole pirate thing.”

              “Stan-”

              “Angie, it’s not safe for our kids to live on a pirate ship,” Stan said firmly.  Anger flashed in Angie’s eyes at being talked over.  Stan forged ahead.  “It’s not just the rusted metal and weapons.  It’s the fact that we literally have battles.  Danny and Daisy are three.  They shouldn’t be anywhere near a swordfight.”

              “I…”  Angie chewed on her lip.  “I just…” She sighed again.  “I made this my life’s purpose.  I built my whole life ‘round bein’ a pirate, I can’t just give it up. At this point, it’s part of who I am!”

              “I know.  But I just- I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Stan said softly.  “Not with our baby girls on board.”

              “I understand.  And I don’t want ‘em hurt or near any sort of danger, either,” Angie said. She reached out and took hold of Stan’s hand.  Stan gently traced the scars on the back of her hand with his thumb.  “I’ll think ‘bout it.  At the very least, we should be able to-”  There was a loud crash.  The ship tilted heavily.  “Fucking hell!”  The door to Angie’s cabin slammed open, revealing Greg.

              “Captain, First Mate, we have a problem.”

              “What?” Angie asked.

              “It’s the Armageddon,” Greg said.  Stan could feel the blood drain from his face. “She came out of nowhere!”

              “Are we lucky enough that the Armageddon’s had a change of captain?” Angie asked, getting up from her desk.  Greg shook his head.  “Fantastic.  Have Dan bring the girls belowdeck.  Stan and I will do our best to handle things.”

----- 

              “Handle things” ended up meaning what it meant the previous times the pirate-hunting ship previously named Orion but now called Armageddon had caught up to them.  It meant a fight.  Stan couldn’t see anything other than the sailors directly in front of him, but a voice cut through the sounds of battle.

              “He’s heading belowdeck!”

              “Who?” Stan called.

              “Bill!” came the reply.  To Stan’s left, there was a loud swear that would put the filthiest of sailor’s mouths to shame.

              My blushing bride.  Said bride cut down the sailor between her and Stan.  Angie’s eyes were wild with rage and terror.

              “Come on!”  Angie grabbed Stan’s hand and dragged him through the chaos, following Bill into the belly of the ship, where Danny and Daisy were hiding with Dan. They caught up to Bill, just before he was about to enter the room that had been designated as the girls’ hiding place. “Bill!”  Captain Bill Cipher turned around, grinning evilly.

              “Hello, Captain Sally,” he said slimily.  Stan’s heart leapt to his throat.  Now that Bill had turned, Stan could tell the captain held Ford in front of him, a knife tickling his throat.  “I’d be careful if I were you.  You’d hate to kill your brother-in-law.  Especially after he committed treason for you.”  Angie snarled.  “Now, go back to the battle.  I have more important things to do.”

              “We’re not going anywhere,” Stan spat.  Bill shrugged.

              “If you insist.  Maybe you can help me find what I’m looking for, then.”  A vicious glint appeared in his single eye, a weak amber that almost looked yellow.  “A one-of-a-kind relic with a one-of-a-kind enchantment.”  Hunger entered Bill’s gaze.  “The ability to open a gate to Davy Jones’ Locker.”  He cocked his head, grin broadening further.  “It’s a funny coincidence, since that’s exactly where pirate scum like you belong.”

              “You’re a fool, Cipher,” Angie said calmly.  Out of the corner of his eye, Stan saw Angie slowly reach for her pocket.  Unfortunately, Bill saw it as well.  Too quickly for Stan to intervene, Bill cast Ford aside, grabbed Angie’s shirt, and pulled her to the ground.

              “Uh-uh.  No guns, lady,” he said in a faux-sweet tone.  Angie hissed at him.  He put his knife to her neck.  “Do you want a new scar to match the one you’ve already got?  If so, feel free to struggle.”  Angie reluctantly stilled.  Stan rushed over to where Ford had fallen.  “That’s right, help your brother while your wife is on the floor.”

              “You piece of-” Stan started.

              “Ah, ah, ah!” Bill said, pressing the knife blade against Angie’s neck.  A bead of blood appeared.  Stan swallowed his insult.

              “Stanley,” Ford whispered.  “Here.”  He pressed something into Stan’s hand.  Stan looked down.  It was some sort of pendant, composed of a glowing opal ringed by gold.  “You’re the only one I can trust with this.”

              “Not so fast, Fordsy,” Bill snarled.  The feigned light tone was gone.  He finished drawing the knife across Angie’s neck, then tossed her to the side.  Stan’s heart plummeted to his feet.  “I thought you might be holding out on me, you-”

              “R hvmw bv gl gsv ylggln lu gsv hvz!” Ford shouted, suddenly shoving Stan off and tackling Bill.  There was a deranged look in his bloodshot eyes.  He gripped the front of Bill’s shirt.  “Drgs nv.”  The pendant in Stan’s hand glowed brighter.  As the light filled the room, droplets of water fell from the ceiling, building from a slow trickle to a gushing waterfall that enveloped Ford and Bill.

              “Stanford!” Stan shouted over the roaring water.  The light of the pendant grew brighter still, forcing Stan to close his eyes.

              When he opened them again, Ford and Bill were gone. What little remained of the water had puddled on the floorboards.  Angie, still on the floor but now soaked through, slowly sat up.

              “What…in the hell…just happened?” she croaked. Stan quickly moved to her side.

              “Stay still,” he instructed.  “If you move too much, you might bleed out.”

              “Relax.  He didn’t really cut me that bad,” Angie said with a scoff.  “This just feels like the ship cat got a bit too frisky with me.” She smiled weakly at Stan.  “I know neck wounds, and this one isn’t a problem at all.”

              “Well, that’s good.”  Stan sat down next to her.  “That’s…the only thing that’s good.”

              “What happened?”

              “I don’t know.  Ford gave me this glowing thing, and then he started saying gibberish, and then it glowed more, and there was water, and-”

              “Stop.”  Angie held up a hand.  “What did Ford give you?”

              “This.”  Stan opened the hand that was still clenched tight around the pendant.  The brilliant glow of the opal had completely faded, leaving it dull.  Angie took the pendant from him curiously.  “I swear, it was glowing earlier.”

              “I believe you,” Angie said softly.  She closed her eyes.  “This is…a big old mess.”

              “Understatement of the century.”  A moment passed.  “So, uh, I know you said we would talk about the whole moving to land thing, but there’s no way the girls can stay on the ship when this sorta shit happens.” There was a beat.  Angie nodded.

              “I agree.”

-----

              “Let me take that.”  Stan took the chair from Angie.  She glared at him.  “You gotta be careful about how much weight you carry.”

              “That’s a chair, Stanley Stanford McGucket,” Angie scolded, hands on her hips.  “Not an anvil.”

              “Can you blame me for being extra cautious?” Stan asked.  He set down the chair just by the front door, then returned to Angie and placed a hand on her already swelling belly.  “We’ve got another little twerp on the way.”  Angie sighed.

              “No, I can’t blame ya.”

��             “Good.  Now, go sit in that chair while I bring the rest of the stuff in.”

              “But-”

              “We’re not on the ship anymore, Captain,” Stan interjected.  “You can’t command me.”  Angie raised an eyebrow.

              “Yer playin’ a dangerous game, husband of mine,” she said, but sat down in the chair anyways.  She leaned back, watching Stan bring the rest of the furniture in. Shortly after Stan began to move ashore with Danny and Daisy, Angie discovered she was pregnant again and, hoping to avoid the traumatic birth she’d had previously, as well as help her family settle down, decided to join her husband and daughters on land.

              To be honest, Angie was kind of glad to have an excuse to be on land.  Yes, she might not strictly need an excuse, but she still liked having it.  Stan was clearly haunted and troubled by what had happened to Ford.  He needed all the support he could get.

              To be even more honest, Angie wasn’t being half as argumentative as usual, out of concern for Stan’s mental state.

              Not that I’ll ever tell him why I’m bein’ so gentle.

              “It’s gonna be great to have us all here as a little family,” Stan said, carrying a dresser.  He grinned.  “Y’know, it’s basically what I wanted when I was a kid.  Wife, kids, my own business.”

              “This is temp’rary fer me, though,” Angie reminded him.  “I’m only ashore fer the pregnancy and post-partum period.  After, I’m headin’ back to sea.”  Stan set down the dresser with a grimace.

              “Angie…”

              “It’s not like I’m abandonin’ ya.  It’ll be like merchant fam’lies what have the father gone to transport tea and whatnot.  But in this case, it’s the mother.”

              “I guess.”

              “I know yer not happy-”

              “Yeah, I’m not happy.”  Stan took a breath.  “But I just have to deal with it.  Who knows? Maybe you’ll love your time ashore so much, you decide to stay.”

              “Don’t hold yer breath hopin’ fer that possibility, love.”

              “Yeah, yeah,” Stan muttered.  “You better be giving me a son, by the way.  That’ll make being a single parent more worth it.”

              “I know yer jokin’, but don’t say that ‘round the girls.  They won’t understand.”

              “Right.  Speaking of the girls, uh, where are they?” Stan asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

              “Yer not pretendin’ ya don’t know where yer children are as a way of me stickin’ ‘round, are ya?  I know full well yer capable of takin’ care of ‘em,” Angie said.  Stan frowned at her.  “They’re with Maria.  She should be bringin’ ‘em back any minute.”

              “Mama!” a voice screeched.  “Papa!”  Three-year-old Danny and Daisy ran up, wrapping their arms around Stan’s legs.

              “Hey there, little pirates,” Stan chuckled, ruffling their hair.  “Didja have a good time with Mrs. Ramirez?”

              “Don’t be silly, Stanley,” Maria said, walking over to them.  Her grandson, Soos, was holding her hand.  “I’m not Mrs. Ramirez.  I’m Abuelita.”

              “Yeah!” Daisy said loudly.  Soos broke free of his grandmother’s grip and ran to Stan.

              “Mr. McGucket, can you tell me a pirate story?” he asked eagerly.  Stan grinned.

              “Like you need to ask!  Come on in, kid!”  Cheering, the children followed Stan inside.  Angie got up from the chair and embraced Maria.

              “I’m so glad you kids settled here in Gravity Falls,” Maria said.  Angie smiled.

              “Well, you and Soos seemed really happy here. And Stan was thrilled to be close to you two.”

              “Yes, Soos is a wonderful boy.”  Maria raised an eyebrow at Angie.  “So, what are your plans?”  

              “Stan wants to turn part of the house into a pawn or antiques shop,” Angie answered.  “After all, we have plenty of things from our adventures that he can sell.  And since I won’t be giving up piracy, I’ll be able to help restock.”

              And if Stan sells interesting relics, he’s more likely to meet people who might know something about the pendant that sent Ford away.  Said relic was locked tight in a chest, tucked away beneath the floorboards of their bedroom.

              “You’re not quitting?” Maria asked, surprised. Angie shook her head.  “Surprising.”

              “I just…”  Angie looked down at her feet.  She toed the grass.  “I probably will eventually.  But not yet. I have more I want to do.”

              “I understand.  Though I don’t understand why you and Stan went with the last name ‘McGucket’.”

              “…It’s actually my real last name,” Angie mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck.  “My real name is Angie McGucket.  So I went back to that.  And since Stan Pines is a known pirate, he took my last name.”

              “Ah.”  Maria looked Angie up and down, then put her hands on her hips.  “You need to eat more!  You’re pregnant, but look at you!  You’re skin and bones, mija!”  Angie laughed.

              “I was wonderin’ how long it would take fer ya to try to feed me.”

              “Try?  I am not going to try, dear.  Come inside, I will make you something to eat.”

              “Maria, this is my house.”

              “So?” Maria asked, walking into the house.  “I can use a kitchen even if it is not mine.”

              With a chuckle, Angie followed her inside.

[susiequaz12]

Carrot Top- 4: Hold Still

Alrighty, part 4, here we go! I’m constantly torn between writing new stuff for this, or editing the past stuff I already have written. I don’t want to post everything too fast and then have nothing left to post. I have so many ideas for this already that I want it to keep going.

Tags: @imagination1reality0 and @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi

Side note, this is a lot more whumpy compared to the last chapters, just a slight warning. 

CW: Defiant whumpee, kinda intimate whumper, dehumanization, torture, blood, beating/manhandling, choking, knives, waterboarding, hand whump. (I think I got it all, let me know if I missed any.)

Splice quickly realized mere whipping wouldn’t cause Andrew to beg. He wouldn’t break him that easily, and Splice was getting tired. So he ungraciously dropped the boy on the ground, removing his restraints as he crumpled into a heap.

 Andrew lay face down on the floor, in a puddle of his own blood mixed with his sweat, tears, and the vomit that he couldn’t hold back. He’d instantly felt sick to his stomach as soon as he felt the blood oozing down his chest and back, but then when he fell into it on the floor, all the contents of his stomach came pouring out. As much as he tried, it felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like he was being forced to suck all his air in through a straw. 

Splice sat on the stool across the room. Watching. He tutted to himself as Andrew lay gasping on the floor. “It’s a pity. We can’t be done so soon, I really thought you had more fight left in you.” 

Andrew wanted to be done. He wanted to be thrown back into that empty room, or just left alone. But at the same time, he felt so weak. Like he should be able to handle more. He shifted in an attempt to pull himself up to sitting but the pain in his back flared up once more and he groaned before crashing back down.

“Come on carrot top, get up.”

Andrew hissed through his teeth. “Don’t call me carrot top.” He pulled himself up on shaky elbows, placing a knee under himself before he managed to finally work his way into a sitting position. 

“There you go. Now just to stand. Come on, stand up. You’re not that pathetic are you? If you are, then these next few days are about to get a lot harder. I’ll toughen you up.” 

Andrew spat onto the ground beside him and hung his head. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and escape from this world. He felt so out of his surroundings that he didn’t even register that Splice had moved, until he was standing in front of him, looking down at the boy. 

The handle of the whip met the underside of Andrew’s chin, raising his head to look up at Splice. The man’s next words were slow and cautious, as if speaking to a child. 

“You will listen, when I tell you to do something. Understand?” Andrew said nothing. “Now stand up.” 

The boy shook his head away from the whip. “When I’m good and ready.” 

The butt of the whip connected with his jaw as his head jerked to the side. A soft thud was heard, connecting with teeth and bone. Andrew groaned and spat blood onto the floor.

Splice answered. “When I tell you to do something-” he gripped underneath Andrew’s chin with a long-fingered hand, forcing him to look into his eyes. “You obey.” His fingers closed around Andrew’s neck, moving from jaw to throat, Andrew shivered. “Understand?” 

“You told me to fight back.” 

Splice shook his head. “Well, I’ll have to admit that I am pleased with how well you are following that order. But now, I’m ordering you to stand. Come on now, it shouldn’t be that hard.” 

Andrew grabbed Splice’s wrist, an attempt to pull it away from his throat. “You can’t order me to do anything.” 

Splice’s fingers only gripped tighter, cutting of his air. 

The boy gasped, fingers grasping at his arm, clawing at Splice’s hands to get the air back into his lungs. The whip clattered to the ground as both hands locked tightly around Andrew’s windpipe, and the man forced the boy to his feet. He stumbled blindly as he was dragged across the room, and then thrown up against the table. 

Air flooded back into his lungs as Splice released his grip. He gulped in the fresh air like a drowning man, and then yelped as the harsh edge of the table pressed into his back, jolting the raw flesh even further. 

Splice scrambled for things on the table, grabbing a knife to hold up against the boy’s throat. Andrew slapped it out of the man’s hand and lurched all of his body weight forward, but he was quickly shoved back. 

With a heavy grunt, Splice swung back and punched the side of the boy’s  head with a sickening crunch. Andrew let out a groan as stars flooded his eyes, his vision going blurry. Splice grabbed his face in his hand and turned his head sideways, inspecting the mark from the blow.

“Oh that’s no good, that’ll bruise.” His hand moved up the side of the boy’s face, going to ruffle his ginger hair. “We’ve got to at least keep you presentable.”

Andrew squirmed to pull his head away. “Don’t touch me.” He hissed.

Splice’s fingers instead locked into the boy’s curls, pulling his neck back to force his head on the table.

“Now I thought I was the one giving orders here?”

Andrew said nothing. A cough erupted from his lungs as Splice’s fist met his stomach. He groaned and tried to catch his breath, but was only met with more punches to the soft flesh of his belly. His feet slid underneath him as he started to sink to the floor. His hands grasped at the edges of the table, a feeble attempt to keep himself standing. 

Splice wiped a strand of sweat from off of his forehead with the back of his hand and soon closed the distance between himself and Andrew. He shoved a knee up onto the boy’s chest, keeping his back pressed into the edge of the table, placing a hand on either side of the boy to keep him from lurching forward. 

“Now. Are you going to listen?” 

Andrew looked up at him with large eyes. Full of anger, and hatred and...and fear. Tears welled up near the edges and as much as he tried to look defiant, the boy was no doubt terrified. 

Splice chuckled as he reached across the table to grab the jug of water and a towel. Keeping the boy pinned to the table, he carefully folded the towel in half, placing it next to Andrew’s head, and then opened the jug of water.

“All you have to do,” Splice said as he placed the towel across the boy’s face. “Is hold still.” 

As soon as the towel covered his face, Andrew knew what was about to happen. And he was not going to let it. Using the amounts of energy he had left, he urged himself forward, wiggling and thrashing under the man’s grasp. The towel flew off of his face onto the floor, and Andrew stared up at Splice, defiant. 

Splice eased off of Andrew for a second as he bent down to pick up the towel. 

“I said hold still.” 

He stood up to find Andrew, poised with a knife in his hand that he grabbed from the other end of the table. The boy shook where he stood and all Splice did was laugh. “I guess you really do want to make this harder on yourself.”

Andrew slashed through the air, blindly aiming for anything to hit, but Splice dodged, grabbing his wrist. He pinned his arm to the table, ripping the knife from his fingers. Using his shoulder he kept the boy pushed down onto the table, his back flat against the surface, legs scrambling for floor to grip onto. Andrew groaned as the weight pushed onto his chest. 

Splice leaned in, turning his head towards Andrew’s ear. “If you won’t hold still, then I will make you.” 

Andrew watched in  anticipated horror, knees shaking as his wrist was pulled further back onto the table, raised above his shoulder just slightly. 

“Funny-” Splice began to say. “You picked the perfect knife.”

Andrew could barely tell you what happened next. Things seemed to go in slow motion as the knife moved through the air. Then he felt the table shake with a powerful thud, followed by a strangled, guttural, shrieking sound. 

It took him a couple of seconds to register that the sound was coming from him. 

The scream grew louder as his eyes fell upon his hand, pinned to the table with the knife. The blade sunk deep through his palm, and blood began to ooze onto the dark wood underneath it. His screams quickly turned into hiccuped sobs as the pain rushed through- red hot, searing throughout his flesh. It crawled up his arm, into his chest making him have to consciously remind himself to breathe.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be more inclined to remain still now.”

Andrew was so focused on that source of pain, that he barely noticed the towel being laid over his face again until the water came pouring through. Instantly his thoughts became trying not to suffocate. He thrashed his head from side to side, but almost instantly the same familiar hand creeped underneath his neck, latching onto a fistful of hair. It’s grip was tight, keeping Andrew’s head from moving about.

The water seeped through the towel, filling Andrew’s mouth and nose as he gasped for air, and relief from the pain. He thrashed about but felt the knife digging into the palm of his hand as he moved and tried to force himself to be still. However in that moment, all he could think was utter panic. It was get out, fight or flight, we need oxygen. Just as he thought he couldn’t take any more liquid pouring into his lungs, the water stopped. 

“Now that you’re here, there are a few things you’ll have to learn.” Splice placed his hand across the boy’s face, keeping the towel pressed down. “One of the first, is that no matter how much you fight back, it will be useless. You could continue though as I must admit I do find it quite entertaining.”

Andrew mumbled something under the towel, muffled through his coughs and gasps.

“What was that?” Splice lifted his hand off of the towel.

“You’re sadistic.” He sobbed.

“Oh why thank you for noticing.” Splice stated casually. He shoved the towel back into Andrew’s face. “While you’re here, you are under my care. My watchful eye, and under my control.” The hand moved the towel from off of his face and landed on his throat. “I control when you drink, when you eat, sleep, or even when you breathe.” His fingers constricted against Andrew’s windpipe, the boy’s eyes going wide, chest heaving. “Got it?” 

Andrew said nothing. His mouth gaped open like a fish out of it’s bowl as he gasped for air that wouldn’t come. The hand that was tangled in the back of his hair pushed his head towards his chest in a nodding motion. Splice released his grip around the boy’s neck.

“Got it?” Splice asked again.

Andrew spat out an insult, but it came out strangled, lacking of air. 

“I don’t think you understand me.” Andrew’s eyes flittered towards Splice’s hand, which was now holding another knife. Panic surged through his body as the tip of the blade met his chest. “I. Control. You.” 

The knife cut through one of the whip marks across his chest, gouging through the already raw flesh. It followed the red line perfectly, leaving behind another trail of blood that caused Andrew to let out a cry, followed by a whimper. The knife picked a new lashing, and then one more as a signature, trailing blood behind as the skin tore open further, leaving Andrew behind as he choked on sobs and strangled screams. 

Splice set the knife down after wiping the blood of on the side of Andrew’s pants. 

“Well, I think I got that point across. Now, remember to hold still.”

A new surge of panic came across Andrew as the towel was laid across his face once more. His head was grasped, and the water came flooding in.

[lumassen]

Suomen Tasavalta

Unlike most other Nations, Finland chooses to live alone and limit his contact with humans and his people. Despite appearing cheerful and happy, Finn struggles with his immortality more than others might think.

----

Cross posted from AO3. Includes lyrics from "Who wants to live forever" by Queen.

Words: 1,930

----

There's no time for us,

There's no place for us,

It was too warm inside his cabin, and Finland felt a bead of sweat roll down the nape of his neck beneath his hair. He knew that he'd got carried away and put one too many logs on the fire that flickered away in the grate, but with no central heating in his house Finland always preferred it to be too warm than too cold. He couldn't help but smile a little though as his gaze fell upon Kukkamuna, his little fluffy companion, as she lay softly snoring out on the rug in front of the fireplace. He sat down on the couch to pull on his wellington boots and stuff his corduroy trousers into the tops. Beneath him, the red leather chesterfield was cracked and worn.

Like so many other things in his cabin, Finland hadn't changed, updated or replaced the couch since 1917 and instead just kept accumulating modernities as and when he needed them. His TV that he eventually treated himself to back in 2006 stood on an antique cabinet that he bought at a woodwork market when he first became independent and moved into this house, and the old refrigerator hummed loudly from the kitchen, the same one he’d always had. It would occasionally leak puddles of water all over the floor, but Finland made do, happy to mop up the water rather than replace the fridge. To him, not much time had passed at all, and the 1930's style fridge and all of his belongings were still relatively new in his eyes.

Tearing his gaze from the fire before he could get lost in thought, Finland stood up, turning his attention to the window to notice that the snow had stopped and the darkened sky was lifting as the clouds cleared.

It was mid December, and little over a week ago a new Prime Minister had been elected by the people of Finland. He eyed the letter on the side table that had arrived the day before last inviting him to meet with her, the edge of it torn accidentally from where he'd struggled to open the envelope with trembling hands.

What is this thing that builds our dreams,

Yet slips away from us?

Unlike the rest of the Nordics and majority of the other nations, Finland had lived in the same house all his independent life, far away from civilisation with no contact with humans apart from his government. He preferred it this way. Denmark teased, calling him a hermit, but he laughed it off, and Sweden always offered him a key to his house every time he moved into a new one, but Finland didn’t want it. He was happy enough by himself.

Happy, cheerful, Finland. That was him.

The cold air rushed in from outside, swirling around him in the entrance way like an old friend as he opened the door and looked out. A fresh layer of snow covered the ground beyond his porch, and had he not known that the lake was at the bottom of the hill it would be easy to overlook; now frozen over and covered in the same layer of snow. It would remain that way until the thaw. Taking in a deep breath through his nose, Finland found comfort in the way that the sharpness of the cold air stung his nostrils and filled his lungs.

After all he had seen and experienced, there wasn’t much in life that unnerved or scared him, yet when Finland had tried on his formal suit last night before he went to bed to make sure that it still fit and looked back at himself in the mirror he felt the dread building in the pit of his stomach. It hadn’t gone away, and instead had been building ever since, his insides churning to the point that he hadn’t been able to stomach breakfast this morning. Tomorrow he was to meet with the Prime Minister and stand before them as they shook his hand awkwardly, regarding him with either an expression of fear, apprehension or unease; sometimes even all three at once.

He didn’t blame them though, no matter how much it hurt him. He knew that it was strange for them to find out that the country that they had just become head of had a personification. Someone that wasn’t quite human, yet wasn't like anything else. Unexplainable, yet real. Living and breathing but unable to die, walking the earth for eternity.

Who wants to live forever?

Who wants to live forever?

Closing the door behind him, Finland stepped out onto the porch, the wind sending a chill up his spine as it found any hole or gap in his clothing to slip through as he made his way down the three steps at the front of his cabin and listened to the snow crunch beneath him as he sank his feet into it. Quiet. Tranquil. Only the sound of his own shuddered breathing that came out and danced in clouds around him, a visual reminder of the life within him.

Balling his fists, Finland took a step forward, then another, then another, until he broke into a run, his feet burying into the snow before he came to a halt, teetering at the very edge of the lake.

"Miksi!? Minä vitun tätä!!" (Why? I fucking hate this!)

Finland's voice echoed over the lake as he screwed his eyes shut and shouted from the top of his lungs, causing a flock of birds in a nearby birch tree to take to the wing, startled. He watched them through tear filled eyes as they flew to the other side of the lake before settling back down into the trees again.

"Miksi olen täällä? Mikä minun tarkoituseni on?" (Why am I here? What is my purpose?)

This time his voice was little more than a whisper as he swallowed the lump in his throat and looked down at the crescent shaped grooves that his fingernails had left in the skin on the palms of his hands from clenching his fists so tightly.

There's no chance for us.

It's all decided for us.

This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us.

He thought back to that moment in 1917 and could see himself as he looked out at the lake. His younger self was staring back at him as though he were a ghost, an apparition. He'd never felt as alive as he had then as he turned his back on Russia and finally led his people home to his land. To the Republic of Finland.

That had been the last time he'd interacted with them, choosing to live out his life as a free country with just the other nations for company. Sometimes he wondered if it were a mistake, but if the look on his previous Prime Ministers face when they had been introduced for the first time was anything to go by then he stood by his decision. He was a freak, born from the snow and evergreen, his first waking moments spent alone and cold with no idea why he existed or where he came from.

Who wants to live forever?

Who dares to love forever?

Oh, when love must die?

A branch snapped underfoot behind him, and Finland spun around on the spot, swinging his rifle around from where it was slung over his back to aim it in the direction of the disturbance and closed one eye to look down the barrel.

“I’ve already been shot by ya once before and don’t plan to be shot again, so put that thing down. It’s just me.”

Sweden was standing in the clearing just in front of where the trees stopped at the edge of the lake with his hands raised in surrender, yet there was a smirk on his face. Lowering the rifle, Finland flicked the safety on and slowly slipped it to rest across his back once more.

“Ruotsi?”

Taking a tiny step forward, Finland squinted as if it could be anyone but Sweden before him, the bottom of his unmistakable long navy coat dusted with a thin layer of powdered snow from where he’d walked through it.

“Suomi.” he said, stopping in front of him.

It had been a couple months since Finland had seen Sweden, let alone interacted with anyone but Kukkamuna for that matter. He noticed Sweden had cut his hair.

“What are you doing here?” Finland couldn’t help but narrow his eyes as he asked the question, wondering if they had plans that he’d forgotten about.

There was a small silence between them as Sweden reached out and hesitantly brought his hand to Finland’s face. At first he flinched at the touch, but Sweden’s hands were always warm, just as he remembered them as he ran his thumb over the stubble that had grown across his jaw.

“I know you gotta big day tomorrow, and that you don’t like humans.”

If it were anyone else, Finland would have felt the urge to defend himself and explain that he loved the humans and his people. Deep down he did, they were the reason that there was life in his veins, but they made him uneasy and Sweden knew this better than anyone.

“It’s not that I don’t like them, Roo,” he pressed as Sweden let his hand drop back down by his side, “because I do. I don’t mind being around them when they think I’m one of them, but tomorrow…”

Finland dropped his gaze to his hands as they fiddled with the small hole at the hem of his sweater from where he’d been meaning to mend it for the past 20 years.

“Wait, didja come all this way just for me? You’re not here on business?” he looked up again as the realisation hit him, and Sweden just nodded with a faint smile.

But touch my tears with your lips,

Touch my world with your fingertips,

“No, I just thought it had been a while since I saw a birch tree. I heard the best can be found here.” Sweden said as he knocked his knuckles against the trunk of the birch to his left and looked up into its branches wistfully before his eyes slid to look at Finland from behind his glasses, a playful expression on his face and Finland felt his jaw slacken.

“Course I came here for ya.”

Finland let out a laugh as his face crumpled and he wiped his nose that had started to run as a result of the cold on his sleeve, drying away the few tears that threatened to fall at the same time and hoped that Sweden hadn’t noticed them.

“You tried your suit on?” Sweden asked, his voice a little gentler now as he took a step closer to Finland. Finland nodded with a sniffle, feeling his stomach lurch as the thought of having to stand in a stuffy room tomorrow in a three piece suit, lily of the valley in his breast pocket, hair tamed and combed back just as his officials thought it should be.

“Then let's not think about it again until tomorrow mornin’.”

Draping an arm heavy around Finland’s shoulders, Sweden stooped and pressed the softest of kisses to the top of Finland’s head, clearly unfazed by the fact that he hadn’t washed his hair in three days.

“Kiitos, Ruotsi.” (Thank you, Sweden.)

“Ole hyvä, Suomi.” (You’re welcome, Finland.)

And we can have forever,

And we can love forever,

Forever is our today.

[hopingforromanoff]

I Love You, Goodbye

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words:1,368

Requests are open, so feel free to send in requests and I will do my best to get them posted ASAP.

Warnings: medical stuff and talk of character death

A/N: This hurt and is super sad but i’m really proud at how this turned out. I MAY do a second part but i’m not 100% sure how I want to end this, let me know what you guys think!

My Masterlist

The thick covering of the trees caused the sky to almost vanish, only allowing a few specs of blue to break through the green umbrella of leaves. The scorching sun began to soak up the water from the recent rain however the mud still squelched beneath your feet. The only other movement present was the occasional bird, fluttering by singing it’s song and squirrels diving between nearby branches. Your lungs struggled to get oxygen to your already weakened muscles; you could do this, you had to do this.

The ground hardened under your feet as more light began to break through the foliage that surrounded you.The warmth of the sun heated your already burning skin. A brown frog hopped around the path in front of you, pausing for a moment before continuing its way into the leaves that littered the muddy ground.  Your foot splashed in a shallow puddle briefly cooling your fevered body. Just a few more feet Y/N, just a few more feet, you can do this.

By the time you reached the top, you were completely out of breath. Your legs stumbled on the uneven ground, Natasha’s hand fell to your back, steadying you. You glanced down at the water below you, thinking about how nice the cool water would feel on your skin. A stream of water flowed into the lake as children splashed on the nearby beach. They giggled as they chased each other, not a care in the world. You wished you could be so carefree but you couldn’t, not in this life, you wouldn’t get the chance.

“Baby-” Natasha started.

“Shh Tasha, just let me enjoy this, one last time” your words were faint and barely audible. A warm breeze ran over you, drying the tears that had begun to trickle down your cheeks.

“I won’t allow this to happen Y/N, I won’t just watch you die” you felt wet tears hit your shoulder as she pulled you close to her.

“We don’t have any choice”

                                           ~24 Hours Earlier~

Steve and Natasha’s laughter filled the air as you entered the mission room. The sound of your combat boots echoed as you approached them.

“You’re back early” Steve greeted you with a smile.

“I told you it would be a piece of cake Rogers. Are you doubting my mad skills?” You pulled the small black flash drive from the back pocket of your suit and proudly pressed it into Steve’s open hand.

“Oh I never doubt you. I’ve seen how you work, I’m just surprised that they let go of this information so easily” Steve flipped the drive around in his hands, examining it.

Nat’s lips moved however, no audible words came out. Steve laughed in response but you couldn’t hear it. You stumbled away, trying to come to terms with the loss of your hearing. Your vision blurred as your sense of sight began to go. Natasha supported your drooping neck as your eyes frantically tried to keep focus on her blurred face.

The pain started as a dull ache in the center of your brain that rapidly spread through your head and extended down your body. You cried out as your legs finally gave out from under you. You didn’t hit the ground though as someone caught you and lifted you into their arms. The movement made you nauseous and you had to resist the urge to throw up all over Steve.

The pain had at least doubled by the time you made it to the medical wing. People rushing around you, pushing Natasha away and beginning to poke and prod you. Your shaking hand reached for hers.

“I’m here Baby” her voice managed to break through the ringing in your ears.

A sharp needle pierced your arm, shooting heavy pain-killers into your veins. It coursed through you, dulling the pain as it went.

The tests had been long and tedious, blood test after blood test, multiple MRI’s and CAT scans, all taking you away from Natasha for far too long. All you wanted to do was be in her arms. You had to be dosed with fresh pain-killers every few hours or the pain would return, stronger each and every time. With each dose, you only wished for it to be over. When you finally were able to return to Natasha’s arms you were shaking like a weak and scared puppy; the combination of heavy medication and fear left you weak and fearful.

The look on Bruce’s face when he returned didn’t inspire any hope in you.

“I’m sorry Y/N” he started, almost looking like he was going to cry himself. “We are unsure but we think this is something that Hydra did to you, probably when you were still young, long before we pulled you out” he paused trying to figure out the best thing to say.

“It must be some sort of fail-safe, a kill switch to stop you from spreading their secrets”

“What are you trying to say?” Steve speaks up from the corner of the room, where he had sat lurking in the shadows hoping that you could not see his fear and concern.

“Umm well it’s designed to destroy neural tissue, it will cause extreme pain, grand mal seizures, cell damage and eventually neuron death” Bruce’s voice was shaking as he spoke.

“Bruce. English Please” Natasha broke away from you and began to pace the length of the room.

“What he means is that I’m gonna die. Very slowly and painfully” Natasha didn’t stick around long enough to see your reaction as the door slammed behind her.

                                               ~Present Day~

You had ultimately made the decision to go peacefully while you slept, you had already suffered through one seizure last night and you didn’t want that again. While Natasha hadn’t been exactly happy with your decision, she couldn’t watch you suffer either. You and Nat spent what little time you had left doing the things you loved. They had not been exactly sure how long you had but the seizure last night had made their decision. If you wanted it to be peaceful, it had to be now.

Natasha’s presence lit the otherwise dull hospital room. You didn’t know how she would cope without you but you hoped she would find love again. You hoped it would be as ever consuming as the love you felt for her. You hoped she would feel a spark every time they touched and she would never want to let go. It brought joy to you to know that you would leave this world being completely and wholly loved by her and you hoped she would get the same in the very distant future when her time eventually came.

Your skin pinched as Bruce inserted the needle into your hand. They had decided the best way for this to go down was to pump you full of pain-killers and then send you into a coma while you waited for death to come for you.

“I’m going to give you two a few minutes while I get everything ready” You smiled thankfully at Bruce as he left the room.

“Y/N, please this can’t happen, there has to be another way, I can’t live without you” Natasha’s tears hit the mattress beside you.

“Tony and Bruce have been trying to find another way, they would have found another way by now” you kissed her. “Please be strong Natasha, I need you to let me go”

“I can’t be happy without you” she wiped your tears from your face softly.

Bruce returned, he asked if you were ready and you only managed a nod in response. As soon as he started the IV you could feel the medicine weighing your body down.

You stroked Natasha’s tear-stained cheek. Her eyes met yours, and you tried your hardest to remember them, because you knew after today you would never see her again. Sleep began to pull you in .

“Goodbye,I love you Natasha” you whispered as your head fell gently against the pillow and your eyes fluttered shut.

“Baby, please don’t go, I lov-” Your consciousness faded and her final words disappeared with you into the silent and black void.

[niall-is-my-dream]

Something Beautiful - Part Four

2340 words

You loved London.

Honestly you did, but when it rained it poured. Even in May.

You and Niall had both gone out in shorts and t-shirts. One minute you were taking it in turns to throw the ball for Monty across the Common, the next thing you knew a few spots of rain had turned into a downpour.

Since the weather was warm you hadn't even bothered to check the weather report before you went out, you didn't have any protection from the onslaught.

You couldn't even run home since you were wearing flip flops.

Monty was filthy by the time you and Niall reached the front door of your ground floor flat.

"Shower time for you my beautiful boy." You said as you walked over the threshold.

"Sounds good to me." Niall said with a wink.

You raised your eyes at his brazen flirting.

"What?! You weren't talking to me?! I thought I was your beautiful boy?!"

"Hmm, I suppose you're alright." You replied shrugging your shoulders.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear or see that!" 

You smirked as you walked Monty down the hall towards the bathroom.

Monty loved the shower, he would happily sit and let you shampoo his coat and rinse him off. Even drying him wasn't usually dramatic and messy. Niall took on the task that Saturday afternoon, and Monty was loving every minute of his one to one attention.

"How much of this stuff do I use darlin?" He called out to you.

You walked back in from your bedroom where you'd been getting towels from the airing cupboard. Niall had Monty's shampoo bottle in his hand and was reading the back of it.

"What the shampoo?"

"Yeah."

"Big handful should be fine." You replied.

Niall poured out the correct amount into his hand and began rubbing it into Monty's grubby fur, watching them together made your heart flutter. Just listening to Niall talk to him as he cleaned him up was enough to make you melt into a puddle.

"Ah look at you, are you loving this shower? You are aren't you? That's my boy all clean and fresh. Let's rince you off yeah, go for a snooze. Maybe I'll sneak you a few treats without your Mum seeing."

Niall took the shower head off its hook and began rinsing all the soap off Monty, he really had got covered in mud. When Monty was rinsed off, he shook his wet body and covered Niall who was still knelt down in front of him with water. Holding a hand over your mouth you managed to stifle your laugh.

"Oh yeah, you think that's funny do ya?!" Niall asked you as he stood up and switched off the shower.

"Nope, not at all." You replied smirking.

"I'll get you back for laughing."

"Sure you will Horan!" You said as you reached past Niall and leant down to scoop Monty up in a towel. Cuddling him to your chest you moved the towel over his body, trying your best to dry him. 

"I'm going to take him into the living room to dry him off and get him settled, I'll be back in a minute to clean up."

It was when you were placing a warm dry towel on Monty's bed for him to lay on that you heard the shower turn on again. When he snuggled down and closed his eyes tired from your walk, you made your way down the hall and to the bathroom. Niall was stood by the edge of the shower cubicle cleaning the shower tray of any mud left over from Monty. 

"Darlin, will you come and look at this?" He asked you.

"Yeah, what is it?" You replied worried that there was a problem with your shower.

"Look at that." He said pointing at the drain.

"What?"

"At the drain, can you see it?" 

"See what?" You asked again getting impatient but leaning down towards the drain anyway.

Then before you knew what was happening Niall had sprayed you with the shower. You spluttered and ran your hands over your face moving the water from your eyes.

"I cannot believe you just did that!" You screeched a massive smile on your face.

"Did what? This?" He replied smugly as he sprayed you again.

"NIALL!"

"What? Not nice is it getting soaked?!"

"You shit!" You said as you tried to grab the shower from him but he was too quick.

He hooked the shower head back up on the hook on the wall and hauled you both into the cubicle. The water was warm on your skin which was clammy from the rain you'd been caught in. Niall was laughing at how soaked you both were while fully clothed in the shower. You laughed along to before pulling him towards you and snuggling into the crook of his neck.

"Wanna get out of these wet clothes?" He whispered against your temple.

You didn't verbally answer him, choosing to move a step back from his chest and pull your top up over your head. Watching his face as you began stripping off was now your new favourite thing. He didn't even try to hide his staring as he looked you up and down as you struggled to get the wet denim shorts off your legs. Soon you were both pulling at each others clothes, Niall grabbed the discarded clothes and threw them out the cubicle and into the sink. His hands were soon cupping your face and drawing you in for a long and gentle kiss. 

You'd never had sex in the shower before, but you were definitely going to be doing it again. There was something so erotic about being surrounded by steam and feeling the drops of water from the shower cover your skin as Niall thrust into you. His body couldn't get any closer as he moved his hips back and forth making you glide up against the shower wall.

He had tucked his head into the crook of your neck, leaving kisses across your wet skin and all you could do was wrap your arms around his shoulders and run your fingers through his hair.

God he felt so good. It had been a long time since you'd been with anyone, over a year but your drought was definitely over now. 

Bringing his forehead to rest against yours you didn't break eye contact.

"God you feel so good." He mumbled, his accent thick.

You couldn't even reply to him, your body was beginning to reach its peak, a warm tingle had begun to travel up and down your body, your toes curling in anticipation of your release.

"Fuck I love you so much." He whispered.

You thought you'd misheard him at first, because it coincided with him hitting the spot that you'd been desperate for him to find. As he began pounding you even harder against the shower wall searching his own release you were overcome with emotion and gripped him tight as you began to come hard. Mumbling your own I love you in the process.

Had he meant to say that he loved you? Had you meant to say it back?

You were too far gone trying to come down to even worry at that moment. If he had said it in a moment of euphoria and hadn't meant it, then you would say the same.

All that mattered now however was watching this beautiful man find his release. Hearing him moan your name as he stilled and filled you up was sending you crazy. You had done that to him, you had made him reach his peak. You were the one he was now kissing, you were the one who he was looking at like he'd won the lottery. His hands let go of your legs gently and your feet slid down to the shower floor. When he slipped himself out of you, you sighed at the empty feeling you now had.

When his hands came up to your face again you let him kiss you with all he had left, relishing in how close you felt to him. He was smiling against your mouth as you both tried to catch your breath.

It wasn't until later on in the evening when he brought up the subject of the words he had uttered to you mid shag.

Niall had cooked a gorgeous meal and you were both happily finding the bottom of your second bottle of red wine while stretched out on the sofa.

"I'm sorry for telling you in the shower that I loved you." He mumbled, his eyes were sleepy and you could tell he was feeling the effects of the wine.

"I'm sorry I said it back." You replied, wondering if he was able to tell that you were a little bit broken that he obviously didn't mean it.

When your words finally clicked in his head he sat up straighter causing Monty to sit up to, who had been happily sitting in his bed at the end of the sofa.

"Did you not mean it then?" He asked his eyes searching yours.

"What?" You said confused.

"I'm trying to say sorry for admitting it while we're having sex for the first time and you reply saying you didn't mean to say it back!"

Oh.

"Niall...I did mean it I was just trying to save myself the embarrassment of you just telling me you shouldn't have said it. You didn't exactly explain yourself very well!"

"Well....I'm confused."

The effects of the wine was definitely showing itself between you two.

"Niall did you mean to say it? It's ok if you didn't."

"No, I meant it. I just wish I hadn't said it while I was ya know.... "

"Balls deep inside me?!"

"Alex!!!" 

"What?! True isn't it?!" You smirked and the tense atmosphere was instantly gone.

You both burst into laughter and Niall pulled you to him, lifting your legs over his thighs so you were straddling him. Cradling his face you leaned down and kissed him and when his hands found their way to your bum and squeezed it you smirked against his lips.

"I love you." He whispered.

"I love you to."

The late spring mornings meant it was light early and you woke up to the sun streaming through a gap in your curtains. You wanted to stay staring at Niall all cosy in bed forever. But first off, that was creepy and secondly, there was Monty. He was sitting at the end of your bed patiently waiting for you to let him out for a wee.

Reluctantly getting out of bed you pulled on some fluffy socks and a hoodie over your cotton pj top and shorts. It might have been almost summer but it was still chilly in the mornings. You pulled the door to and made your way down the hall following Monty. 

Standing against the kitchen counter you sipped your coffee and watched Monty scurrying around the small garden. He'd found a ball and was happily knocking it around with his nose.

You had been so engrossed in watching your crazy dog that you hadn't realised Niall had come into the living space. His warm hands wrapped around you making you jump. Tucking his hands into the pockets of your hoodie he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

 "Morning Darlin." He whispered against your skin.

 "Mmm Morning." You replied.  "Want a coffee?"

 "I'll get one in a minute, I'm a bit busy at the moment."

You giggled as his scruff tickled your neck and he nibbled on your ear.

"Can we go back to bed? I'm finding your bright pink fluffy socks a real turn on."

"I love my fluffy socks." You replied defending them from being mocked.

"I completely agree, I wasn't lying about being turned on." He said as he pulled your hips back towards his and you felt just how turned on he was.

Monty at this point upon hearing Niall's voice, came scurrying in from the garden. Honestly, you were beginning to think that Monty liked Niall better than you. Nudging at Niall's leg for attention he moved himself away from you and began tickling Monty's ear.

"Has he had his breakfast?" Niall asked.

"Not yet, I let him out first."

"Right come on boy, let's get you some food."

Monty followed Niall into the kitchen area and waited patiently while he prepared his breakfast. In the last few months of being with Niall he had stayed quite a few times at yours and he happily helped out with Monty. Placing his bowl on his mat, he knelt down next to him.

"Right you eat this all up and then chill out for a bit. I'm going to take your Mother to bed, so close your ears. Ok Monty?"

"Niall....I can't believe you!" You said laughing at his one to one chat with Monty.

"What?!" He asked you as you smiled and shook your head at him. "Put down your coffee love and let me take you back to bed."

The bedroom door had barely clicked shut before Niall was tugging your hoodie over your head.

 "Going to wear those fluffy socks in bed?" He asked you as he guided you backwards towards the bed.

 "Does it get you going?!" You giggled as your legs hit the mattress.

 "Oh god you don't know how much!" He giggled back.

He actually giggled.

You might have both been a bit hungover from all the red wine the night before but you weren't too hungover to spend the morning making up for lost time. Now that you'd had a taste of him there was no stopping you and you wished you'd not held back with him so often before.

Lots of I love you's were said as you explored one another that morning, more was had in the shower to before you finally ventured out to walk Monty. Both of you feeling like life couldn't get any better.

Tag list

@ihearthemcallingforyou.

@mariamorris913

[valkyrieofsmut]

Captive Love   11

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: Sweetheart's escape! Sans's anxiety... Sweetheart has anxiety, too.

A/N: So... Here's one of the parts I've been really excited to put out! I must be messed up, though, because... Sweetheart has flashbacks and an anxiety attack... I'll put the ~~~ so you can avoid the triggering stuff. Sans pretty much sums it up, but I also put a sum up in the end notes. Also, tumblr is a bitch to edit on, which is why it’s taking me so long to update! Sometimes I kinda just feel like posting a link to the chapter on Ao3... kinda feel torn, though, since you won’t get to see the words or anything if it’s reblogged or whatever. What d’ya think? 

Masterlist      Series Masterlist

Story

The great escape.

The door downstairs closed loudly, waking (Y/n) with a jolt.

She looked around, seeing a blanket over herself. She didn’t remember that being there before she fell asleep.

There was a soft, muffled snoring above her and she looked up, Sans’ body stretched out before her in the puddle of his coat, the book he’d been reading laying open on his face.

(Y/n) tried to sit up, but an arm tightened around her ribs. She looked down and noticed that  while she’d thought that his arm was just laying down on the bed, it was draped over her, hand tightening at her shirt and holding her close. The other seemed to be tangled in a mess of her hair.

Holy crap, how did this even happen? She wondered.

She decided that it didn’t matter. Nothing about it mattered. It didn’t mean anything, and it didn’t change her plans to get out.

She could hear Papyrus getting closer from the sound of his stomping footsteps coming down the hallway. He seemed to pause outside Sans’ door, and she wondered what he was doing for the moments before he opened the door.

“SANS, WAKE UP, YOU LAZY PILE OF BONES!” He called, taking in the sight in front of him as his brother stirred. “SANS, WHAT IS THAT TRASH ON YOUR FACE?”

(Y/n) looked up as Sans swiped the book away so it hit the floor on the other side of his bed a bit violently. “nothin’ paps, jus’ somethin’ i’s readin’ ta sweetheart,” he assured. Hastily.

That didn’t sound suspicious at all…

Was particle theory some secretly sexy thing? Was there something in there that she didn’t realize was dirty? Was he- was he reading her porn without her realizing it?!

She knew that monsters supposedly turned to dust when they died, which lent itself to a theory that monsters were made of particles instead of cells, so… was it some weird sexual thing?!

(Y/n) felt her cheeks heating, and she made sure to keep her face hidden from the two skeletons.

.

Another night of awful dinner, though she was able to eat some salad and bread to fill herself and avoid much of the lasagna, thanks to Sans’ shopping trip, out of the way, and they all retired to their rooms, Papyrus to practice battle strategy and study traps, (Y/n) and Sans to his room.

(Y/n) got the book from the floor where it had landed and brought it to Sans where he was kicked back on the bed.

“ya- ya want me ta read ya more a that?” He asked nervously.

(Y/n) shook her head, putting the book on the bed and making the motions for writing on paper.

“s-sorry, sweetheart, i told ya; i can’t read human writin’, yet.” She scowled at him and slapped the bed before making the writing sign again. Sans jumped back in surprise at her actions, standing and going to his desk. “shit, doll, a’right-! ya planning ta take notes or some shit?” He asked a bit roughly as he tossed the pad of paper and pencil on the bed at her. She seemed pleased, so he sat back on the bed.

She waited for him to get comfortable before handing him the pad and pencil. He looked at them in confusion, then watched her open the book and point at the words, then pointed at him and signed writing again.

“doll, i’m tellin’ ya; i can’t write anythin’ y’re gonna understand,” he told her.

She held the book open and tapped at the page to get his attention there before pointing to each individual letter.

“i’m not holdin’ anythin’ back from ya, doll, i sw-” he insisted, cut off as she slapped the bed again with a scowl.

She jabbed her fingers at the letters and nearly growled, “uhl-fuhb…t!”

“ya- ya want me ta write th’ alphabet?” He asked in surprise.

“Yehs!” She declared with a slight, adorable, squeak, thrusting her arms in the air and falling back on the bed in obvious frustration.

Sans’ grin widened at the sight before he was over her, his face pressed to her collarbone, his arms wrapping around her to give a squeeze. “y’re jus’ so fuckin’ cute, ya know that, sweetheart?” He asked, nuzzling her as he hid his blush. (Y/n) was frozen in surprise, but was about to push him away when he continued, “an’ smart. but, if we’re gonna do that, let’s get one that ain’t so technical.” Sans climbed from the bed, taking the book with him, stuffed it on the shelf behind some other books and pulled off a different one.

He’d been glad that she couldn’t read the old school, common monster print, so he could make up whatever he wanted the book to ‘say’, but now that she was trying to learn to read it… the thought of her learning that he read books focused the relationships of the characters, that was a bit soft for the tough image he kept up, it’d embarrass him very badly, and if it got out that he read that kind of stuff- he’d be attacked, not only verbally, by most monsters, but physically by some of them as well; the ones who thought they were going to look big and strong by killing the brother of one of the Royal Guard’s Commanders.

Sans wrote all of the characters of the monster’s common alphabet, leaving space around each one, then his name at her insistence.

“sans,” he read it to her, making the sound of each letter as she pointed to it, then watched as she made some weird kind of notes underneath. “ss. aa. nn. ss.”

(Y/n) nodded as she looked at her work. Well, now she knew how to spell his name. She pointed to the corresponding letters of his name in the alphabet that he’d written, and, getting the same sounds, wrote the letters under them.

She found words in the book, starting with the short ones, having him read the whole sentence, then the words one at a time, to check the grammar, and then the individual letters of her chosen words until she had a letter for almost all of the symbols. There seemed to be a symbol for the sounds ‘ch’ ‘sh’ and something she could only figure as ‘cs’ which was like a soft c, almost s sound.

Sans scratched the back of his skull before reaching down and tossing his shoes off. “flower. sweetheart, ya done, yet? ‘cause i’m done being treated like a fuckin’ speak’n spell fer th’ night. got shit ta do in th’ mornin’,” he told her, sounding tired as he got comfy on the bed.

(Y/n) wrote a couple more notes, then closed the book, took the paper from the pad and stuck it where she wouldn’t forget to take it with her when she left; it would come in handy to read any signs.

She was as stubborn as the previous nights, taking her pillow and laying on the floor, much to Sans’ irritation.

Another night of falling asleep on the floor, Sans wrapping his body around her, and waking up on the bed. She wasn’t surprised at this point, though she wondered how he got her up on the bed without waking her.

.

Come on, she thought at them, particularly Sans, as she stared at the book she was again studying, I was still here yesterday when you went shopping- I didn’t leave, you can trust me. Go to work, or whatever it is you do…

Sans was shooting hesitant looks at her, but did leave her alone in the room with a reminder of how dangerous monsters could be to humans. She would have thought that he was threatening her, but the way he looked so nervous, it was definitely that he was warning her to stay safe. Inside.

.

(Y/n) waited.

She ate some of the salad and bread for breakfast, not wanting to make herself sick right before her trip, and continued to wait.

After two and a half hours, she felt like if either of the skeletons had been worried about her sneaking out, they would have given up and either come to check on her, or gone off to the next thing by then and she should be ok to go.

She dressed in the most covering black clothing she’d found in the bag to help her blend into the shadows, ending up in a tight pair of leggings and a loose, off the shoulder shirt landing in a very flattering cut at almost mid thigh.

It did leave her neck a bit exposed, but she was going to use her sneaking ability to the best of her, well, ability, mostly staying hidden for protection.

She stuffed her feet into her shoes, glad that she had sensible, comfortable, black shoes as required for work, though they looked a little clunky paired with the skin tight leggings.

Pfft. Not like I’m trying to win any fashion awards or anything, anyway, she chided herself as she looked all over through the fields around the outside of the door before slowly making her way out.

She kept her back to the house as she slowly navigated her way around it to the side with the city in the far distance.

Sans felt a bead of sweat run down his skull as he hurried toward the house, pausing under the tree sheltering the echo flowers he’d brought up, the ground muddy and wet from how much water they needed.

Something was not sitting right in his nonexistent gut. Something was too strange about the way his sweetheart had been acting, and he felt the need to go check on her, if only to ease his own worries.

If she was fine, he could pop back to work, no problem, if not- he would fix it.

As Sans started forward again, he saw the gleaming silver of spun webs.

His eyes focused more, sweeping the field to pick out more of the webbing, seeing a trap set, and he could guess who it was meant for.

fuckin’ spider bitch can’t keep ta her own fuckin’ business… he cursed, crouching to conceal himself as his eyes moved over the area to gather all the information he could.

He saw the hint of a strange shadow at the edge of the grass, the fuzzy body of a spider about half the size of the annoying dog; one of Muffet’s minions, and one that wasn’t the type to travel alone.

He cursed silently again, his eyes sweeping over the place it was heading, obviously on the hunt, tracking their prey.

There- he saw a flash of skin, a hand steadying its owner so as to not trip, just at the corner, on the other side of the house.

Sans used a shortcut to the grass just past her, still crouching to stay hidden.

Just as he could see her about to break away from the house and head out into the open field, a glance showing him that the spiders were poised and ready to scurry into action chasing after her, Sans shot out of the grass silently, grabbing (Y/n)’s arm and jerking her around the  next corner, out of the line of sight of the spiders.

(Y/n)’s back was once again slammed into a wall, Sans in front of her, his hand over her mouth as he caged her in, his eyes studying the side of the house she’d just been on as he quietly growled, “what th’ fuck ya thinkin’?!”

She was too surprised to react for a moment, and when he was satisfied that whatever he was looking for wasn’t there, his angry eyelights turned to meet her eyes.

“huh?! what don’t ya get ‘bout it bein’ dangerous fer ya ta be out here?!” His voice was soft, as though he didn’t want to alert someone to their position, but (Y/n) still didn’t see anyone around.

He was playing it up for her benefit, trying to trick her, she knew it…

“how th’ fuck’d ya even survive this long?! ya run ’round defenseless an’ soft, kissin’ strange, scary fuckin’ monsters an’ passin’ out ‘n front a ‘em, try'n wander through fields fulla monsters that wanna cat’cha an’ eat'cha- what th’ fuck did ya think ya were gonna do- skip yer way through th’ fuckin’ town fulla monsters an’ get through wit th’ power’a kindness or some shit?!” He hissed at her.

(Y/n) had thought Papyrus was the intimidating brother, but Sans was pretty intimidating himself when his eyelights were missing from his sockets, his anger twisting his face as he held her motionless against the wall of the house, bony hand over her mouth.

He looked around the house again before dragging her with him as he went down to the other corner, peeking around to check it before dragging her with him again, into the house and tossing her toward the couch, making her stumble back and fall onto it awkwardly, her eyes glued to him as he locked the locks on the door and stormed down over to the couch.

Sans’ red magic yanked her feet to him and he ripped her shoes from her feet, taking them with him as he stormed down a hall, then made his way back, her shoes missing, though she’d heard the sounds of more locks.

He stopped next to the couch, grabbing her to drag with him again, but stopping at the bottom of the stairs, holding her with one hand while the other smacked at the wall until he found what he was looking for and pulled a hidden door open.

(Y/n) only got to see a sliver of what was inside, lights flickering before filling the space with harsh, fluorescent brightness. There were a couple of strange machines that kicked to life, but none of them were what Sans was going for, apparently, as he grabbed whatever he was looking for from the wall near the door and walked back out, flicking the lights off and slamming the door closed before again dragging her, this time up the stairs to his room.

His door shut with a loud bang, Sans stopping and holding the item in his fist up as he pushed her forward so she fell on the bed.

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

(Y/n) quickly turned and rightened herself enough that she could fling herself into motion if she needed to. Her eyes went up to watch Sans, attentive to find any clues from his behavior that she’d need to survive.

His eyelights were trained on the thing in his fist, which was glowing a little with his red magic, but the expression on his face was torn.

“i didn’t wanna do this,” he murmured. “i was tryna spare ya from it, but…” Sans’ eyelights turned back to her, sadness hidden behind his anger as he advanced on her, keeping her trapped between him and the bed. “but ya fuckin’ hada make me. ya took the decision outta my hands, sweetheart. ‘f i’m gonna keep ya safe, i have ta be able to…”

(Y/n) felt the fear growing in her belly as she shrank down away from him, her eyes unable to look away from his.

It was a bad ending.

Punishment.

He was pissed off and was going to punish her to assert his dominance, to keep her under his control, show her what happened when she displeased him.

No… no, please, her mind begged, unable to get the words out, though her mouth had been trained not to let any sounds out. Please- help… I’m sorry-!  

Her eyes slammed shut as he stepped closer, her whole body flinching away, her face flinching again as she tried to keep the panic in her system down. Her arms flinched, stopping themselves as they started to move up to defend herself as he leaned over her.

Something soft but sturdy wrapped around her neck.

Oh god- don’t strangle me- oh god, please don’t strangle me-! She heard the sound of a buckle and her fear was instantly doubled. No biting, no biting, no biting, she tried to prepare herself, fighting the tears stinging at her ducts. Biting will make it worse- worse might be accidentally killing you…  

Suddenly, light was shining through her eyelids and she heard the door slam closed again.

(Y/n) opened her eyes, finding herself alone in Sans’ room. She quickly looked around to take stock of the situation, making sure she was actually alone, before getting up and grabbing the chair from near the window, using it to jam the door closed before she took the blanket off the bed and huddled on the other side of it from the door.

The tears started washing down her face as she wrapped herself around a pillow, her body rocking slightly as she fought the panic that had taken hold of her gut.

I’m ok, she told herself. I’m ok, he didn’t do anything. He didn’t hurt me. Didn’t even rip my clothes. I’ll still get out- just… just gotta wait for the right opportunity… I’ll make it. I’ve survived before, I can do it again.  

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

Sans sat in the hall with his back against his door, draining large gulps from a nearly empty bottle of cheap whiskey and chasing it with gulps of mustard.

He could feel his sins crawling on his back.

He felt fucking disgusting.

The look of fear in her eyes as he got closer to her, the full body tremble- the way she looked like she’d rather fall down and dust than let him touch her as he put the collar on her and buckled it…

He should be comforting her- he wanted to be in there comforting her, telling her that it was ok, he wasn’t going to hurt her- that he’d never hurt her! But he was the one that had caused this state of fear, and he could only hope that she’d calm down enough that he could comfort her soon.

stars, sweetheart, ‘m sorry, he thought miserably as he took another long gulp, finishing the bottle in his hand and squirting mustard between his teeth, ignoring the tears and soul tearing pain in his chest before he buried his skull against his knees, his humeri pressing around it, wrists dangling from the top of his knees, mustard in one hand, the empty bottle in the other. ‘m so fuckin’ sorry…  

A/N: SAFE RECAP That thing Sans got out of the secret room was a collar, and when he went to put it on her, she had a flashback of punishment from her abusive ex. Of course, Sans couldn't stand to see her like that, hated himself for causing it, and left to go be self destructive on his own. Also... heh, the book that Sans was reading to Sweetheart... not a textbook. More a romance novel. lol.