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imwetforyourmom · 4 months

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not her

pt5

warnings: swearing, am*lia mentioned, shits about to go down, truth being told, hella angst, comparing, poc!reader friendly, am*lia humbling matt

taglist

a/n: the amount of HATE am*lia has received since last chap and bound to receive more ☹️

PREVIOUS CHAPTER ~~~ NEXT CHAPTER

(not proofread)

“she what?”

(same day matt and amelia fucked, but for y/ns pov)

y/ns knees curled into her chest, her cold tears streaming down her face, pricking her skin with the not so gentle reminder that this all actually happened, that that all really went down, that her boyfriend left her for some fuckin ed sheeran lookin asshole.

her chest felt like it was going to collapse, she couldnt breathe. it physically pained her to breathe in, and breathe out. despite needing to, she just couldnt.

she couldnt find it in herself to pick herself up from this dirty ass floor, or to go after matt and beg him to stay, or to at least, at the most, stop crying over a trashy man.

y/n knew she didnt derserve this, she knew she was better than crying on a dirty, dusty floor over a boy—that she dated for two years, she knew that she was and deserved so much better than what state matt left her as, looking as if he had no remorse, gave no fucks about her or this relationship he flushed down the drain so easily.

a sob ripped from her throat, pulling her from her overwhelming thoughts and back to what her insides felt, her stomach curled and twisted uncomfortably, her head pounded with an ache she wouldnt wish on anyone, she was in so much physical pain, yet all she could focus on was matt and how she’d live live without her boyfriend being by her side—how different could it be? he wasnt by her side ever since he laid eyes on amelia, it’d just be like another normal day.. just with a great amount of pressure on her shoulders and an overwhelming urge to cry.

y/n smooshed her face between her knees, letting her loud sobs to be loud in the muffled encasing of her knees and thighs, without being paranoid someone would walk in and find her bawling on the floor.

her heart hurt to pump the blood it needed inside her body, it hurt to use the sole purpose of her lungs, it hurt to open and close her eyes as they swelled with tears, it hurt her head to even think, all she wanted to think about was anything but matt, but all she could think about was matt, why couldnt it be amelia? why couldnt y/n be mad at amelia? amelia did everything wrong, she ruined everything,

but she didnt, matt had the choice to ignore amelia, he had the choice to tell her to ‘fuck off’, to push her aside and keep his focus on y/n, yet he didnt. he chose amelia, of course he chose amelia, why else wouldnt he? she was pretty. she had everything y/n didnt, she had pretty green eyes compared to the ugly, dark brown eyes of y/ns, amelia had a nice smile, compared to y/ns crooked teeth and strange upward of her cheeks.

y/n wasnt her, she never would be.

y/n had finally found the willpower to pick herself up from the floor after hours of just sitting there, her cries eventually stopped and dried on her cheeks, leaving an icky feeling on her face.

she dragged her feet against the cement of the floors, her face pale and eyes bloodshot, sure to concern anyone who’d seen her.

she attempted to cheer herself up by listening to SZA her entire drive home—as much as she wished it worked, it didnt really help much.

her thoughts became too loud for the music to even be placed, there was no way of escaping this, she was gonna be locked in the entrapments of her own mind for until she could breathe freely again.

the second her car was parked in her driveway she was already out of her car and walking up the stairs of her porch, she took her shoes off and went upstairs, without a word to her parents and siblings, leaving them confused in the kitchen.

once out of their sight, the girl began running to her room, desperate to be alone in a comforting, safe haven where she knew nothing bad would happen to her.

she plopped down onto her bed, curling into a ball to comfort herself. her eyes too used to even begin crying again, so she just sat there in silence, with only the loud screaming in her mind, the screams of matt and fucking amelia, creating a noise. it was so loud she couldnt stand it. she just wanted to sleep, sleep this entire nightmare away.

sleep sounded like the only escape she could figure of her mind, it was the only thing she wanted right now, at least thats what she’d like to believe, she just wanted matt back, she wanted to hold him again, be able to talk without begging and to just be his girlfriend again, what was so wrong with that?

in her best attempt of falling asleep, she shut her eyes and forced herself to atleast quiet her mind some, as much as she possibly could, which wasnt much at all, but it was still something.

slowly, the forcement of her eyes closed began to become naturual and her mind quieted, her breathing and heartbeat steadied.

*morning after*

amelia rolled over, her eyes slowly opening to adjust to the sun beaming in through matts window. with her moving she’d woken up matt, in to which, he grunted and looked over at her.

with his still half asleep mind, he’d been expecting y/n, but once his eyes had taken her in and seen red hair, many, many prominent freckles and green eyes—to say the least, he was so shocked and confused his mouth opened before his brain could comprehend anything.

“what the fuck?”

amelia’s eyes widened and her lips parted, “what?” she asked, there was no doubt that she wasnt the tiniest bit hurt about his reaction to seeing her.

matt blinked multiple times, his own best attempt at gaining his vision back and waking up a little.

“fuck, amelia, im sorry, I just- I wasnt expecting to see you, I got scared, sorry.” he mumbled, his hand awkwardly going to the back of his neck, scratching it and avoiding eye contact.

truth was, he really just wasnt expecting to see bright orange hair as soon as he woke up, talk about a jumpscare.

“its fine, matt, dont worry.” she replied, her eyes trailed across his features, admiring how naturally pretty he was.

her hand traveled up to cup his jaw, “you’re really pretty, matt.” she whispered, tilting his face back so he could make eye contact with her.

despite the butterflies fluttering in matts stomach, his mind was still on last night, not the god awful sex, but instead what he thought about.

he just- he couldnt believe he’d really dumped y/n for amelia so easily, he left the janitors closet and before he knew it, he was balls deep in some other girl. how did he possibly fuck someone else only after a few hours of breaking up with y/n? was he a slut, manwhore or didnt care? we’ll never know.

it was unbelievable, he couldnt believe his own actions. how the hell did he do that with his own free will? he knows himself better than that, he’d never do it, he just didnt understand why he did it.

“matt?” amelia’s voice broke his thoughts, her tone was confused, but also like she was ready to say something more.

he subtly moved away from her hand and rolled off the bed, standing up and walking over to his closet.

“yeah?” he answered shortly after.

“do you think we could go on a date?- today?” she asked timidly, she sat up and looked at him, awaiting his response.

matts heart thumped from his chest, beating harder with each breath in his lungs.

“w- what?” he asked, his voice breathy in shock. theres no way amelia just asked him that.

amelia gulped, looking down at the bed in humiliation, a dark red blush covered her cheeks and her fingers fidgeted with one another.

“I- I mean- um, amelia, we’ve- I thought last night was a simple hookup?” his hand ran through his hair nervously, unsure of what to feel in this moment. he liked amelia, he really did, but he wasnt sure if he was ready to be in a relationship with her quite yet, or anything past friends—last night was an accident, or so he’d like to think.

“no! yeah! um, it can be just- a, just a hook up, yeah, thats fine.” she replied awkwardly, trying to persuade herself that she wasnt on the verge of tears.

“how about we just hangout with my brothers and madi today, yeah?” matt attempted to save the awkwardness, but he failed miserably, probably worsening the situation.

amelia swallowed, her throat dry and her mind unforgiving, fuck it was all so awkward, this was definitely the most awkward thing she’d ever expierenced before and probably ever will.

she nodded, still avoiding eye contact with matt, too ashamed to even look up at matt when she got off the bed.

her movements paused, a sudden anger bubbling in her stomach.

her head whipped up to look at matt, her face redder than normal with anger. “what the fuck matt!” she exclaimed, her tone filled with disbelief.

matt took his turn of his own confusion on his face, “what?” he asked quietly, feeling small under her gaze with her sudden outburst.

“you fuck me dumb and then say no date, just a hookup? are you that fucking desperate?” she snapped, her words holding a bite to them. they were very clearly directed to matt and y/n.

matt went to open his mouth and speak, but amelia cut him off. “you breakup with your girlfriend and then fucking come to me? what the hell matt. you’re so fucking unbelievable.” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest before continuing, “so fuckin depserate to have your dick wet, huh?”

matts shoulders dropped—aswell as his jaw. kid was in shock. he was just called desperate. him? desperate? he wasnt desperate, he could never be desperate. amelia just so happened to be wearing revealing clothes and leading him on, what was he supposed to do?

“pick ya fucking jaw up from the floor matt. open your eyes! you just fucking dumped your girlfriend, then fucked another girl. do- did you even truly care about her?” she exasperated, she wasnt even mad at the y/n thing, she was more so mad that he fucked her, but then said no to a date.

“matt, what the hell is wrong with you? why would you fuck me just to say no to a date? are you some sort of fuckboy?” matts air left his lungs at this, his face dropped and his heart dropped to his ass.

was he actually a fuckboy? he couldnt be.

“im tired of you and your shit, im leaving, I guess ill fucking meet up with your brothers and madi—not for you, but to see my friends.” she gave him one last glance before grabbing her phone and exiting the room, she was so mad matt could feel it radiating off her.

once matt felt the disgusting presence of her leave the room, he shut the door and took in a breath, finally a fresh and free breath. a breath he felt was finally like a bird being freed from its cage, he felt free, despite only spending a night with that red-headed bastard he was already sick of her.

he wasnt actually gonna let her words sink in, he didnt care what amelia had to say, he knew she was just jealous and embarassed to the point she needed to make a bigger problem than the situation actually was.

an icky feeling, like he was disgusted with his own skin escaped throughout him, he felt gross.

he couldnt rid of the feeling, even with his hands wrapped around his torso, hugging himself at his best attempt of shaking the feeling, yet it didnt work.

he stood from the door and walked to his bathroom, immediately stripping from his pants and boxers to get in the shower, the only place he’d hoped would rid the disgusting feeling, he felt strange all over, his skin felt hot and too tight on him.

his hands moved quick to start his shower water, turning the knob to his usual tempature, just slightly hotter, hoping the hot would help.

his body felt wet now, the stinging tempature of the water didnt do anything but add a painful sensation throughout him. his hands went to his hair, grabbing desperately for stabilization, his emotions were sky rocketing and he couldnt understand why.

why did he feel gross?

why did his skin fit uncomfortably?

why did he feel like this?

why couldnt he feel like his usual self? everything was so overwhelming.

his hands moved quicker than he’d like, grabbing his body soap and squeezing more than needed on his loofah, he didnt even bother spreading it in, he only hit his chest and began washing desperately, spreading it across his body in attempts at feeling better, like the soap would do something to him, make him feel better.

he rubbed his skin desperately, searching for a way to end this mess.

after his shower, matt had finally felt just cleaner, but not clean. in the shower, he’d figured out why he felt the way he did, or what he’d convinced himself what the reason was.

he’d simply told himself over and over again that it was amelia, she was all over him and the realization had finally occured that he touched her, she touched him, and he finally felt icky for it.

so, after getting dressed, he’d ripped his bed clean from the sheets she’d slep in last night, changed pillowcases and blankets.

if he didnt, he didnt want to picture how he’d feel. he wasnt sure if he even wanted to ever do this again with amelia.

before letting this all dull over his mind any more, he grabbed his phone and texted his brothers and madi’s groupchat, asking them the question that caused amelia’s snap from earlier.

“do you guys wanna hang out?”

sending that message already was a lot for him, so now to act okay, like he wasnt arguing with amelia, scrubbing his body till it was a light shade of pink and stinging, and where he had to strip his entire bed clean from any remneants of amelia, to now hanging out with his friends, trying to act like he wanted to be here and wasnt slowly crumbling inside was just the cherry ontop.

at any given moment he could snap at someone, nick and chris definitely took notice of that, seeing how sharp his movements were, his tone bitter and stern and his eyes giving no mercy to anyone or anything he laid eyes on.

nick walked over to matt, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder while whispering to his brother, “whats your problem matt? you’ve been having mattitude all day and its just getting annoying by now.”

matt looked up at him, shooting him a glare before shaking his hand off his shoulder with a grumble, “nothing nick, cant you ever stop complaining?”

nick scoffed and shook his head, moving away from the very clearly pissed off matt.

amelia’s been tense since she left the house, an undying amount of pressure on her shoulders since she met the triplets and madi at the park, seeing matt slouched over at a bench with an annoyed look on his face was not a good sign.

she wasnt even sure why he was mad, she should be the mad one. he led her on and is now being the bitchy one? how unfair.

again, with the amount of pressure on her shoulders—being the dramatic bitch she is, she felt the need to get it off her shoulders, convincing herself that she was too good to be holding this much on herself.

so, while talking with madi, and ranting about her time with matt that morning, speaking of how rude he was—leaving out the parts where she was the bitch.

“—and then I couldnt believe he just did that out of nowhere, especially after I went through all the work of having to lie to him about y/n cheating, then he has the audacity to reject me?” she rolls her eyes, her tone holding the very obvious pissedness she was also make very clear with her face.

madi’s eyebrows knit together, amelia did what?

she narrows her eyes as her stomach churns with disgust, madi stands up from her spot on the bench, looking down at amelia with glare.

“what?” amelia asks, still completely unaware of her mistake.

“I- I just need to pee.” madi mumbles, tearing her gaze away from amelia, she repeats what amelia said in her head, each time sending a jolt of even more disgust to her already sick stomach.

amelia nods hesitantly, too annoyed to think more about her words and why madi had just left so abruptly.

madi looked around the now darkening park, looking for matt, once her eyes land on his figure, still sat slouched at the bench, his eyes drooping but following his finger as it runs along the wooden table.

she walks up to matt, taking a seat next to him before blurting out, “amelia lied.”

matt lifts his head up, looking over at madi, his eyebrows raising in confusion. “about what?” he asks.

“y/n cheating- she didnt actually do it, matt. she lied so she could have you.” madi muttered, her voice growing quieter with shame with each word she spoke.

matts body raced with emotions, he wasnt even sure what he was feeling right now, what was he supposed to feel with this newfound information?

he just stared at madi, his face falling pale.

“she what?”

3013 words

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imtooscaredforthis · 2 years

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Entrapment

Chapter Five: A Brand New Plaything

Mentions of: Stalking, Inappropriate/Uncomfortable Behavior, Unwanted Touching, Sadistic Thoughts, Homicidal Thoughts, and Some good ol Danny

A/N: I am officially dead inside, but thank god I finally got a break. I’ve just had a long, shitty day, lmao But I hope you guys enjoy this.

Tags: @moonshineinasippycup @autisticpickle @dead-bxtch-walking @darthwhorecrux @froegis

With a frown adorning your lips, you stomped over to the elevator, pressing on the buttons impatiently, waiting for it to open. Looking over your shoulder, you glanced at the clock, seeing that you were already forty-five minutes late.

You’ve had a long and shitty morning, which all started with you oversleeping, and rushing through your routine, which, to save time, excluded a shower. Then, you had to run to the coffee shop and get your coworker’s orders and then run across the crosswalk, tripping over yourself as you did so, spilling burning coffee all over your white blouse.

So, you had to go to the shop, get the same order, and run to the building, almost getting hit by a car, and flipping the driver off, before going on your way. At this point, you’re really regretting not taking that shower, sniffing your armpits, and wincing.

Fuck, you’re such a mess.

–

Leaning back and stretching in his chair, scanned the area around him. When he noticed no one was paying attention to him or his cubicle, he pulled out his address book, flipping through the pages.

There are times like this when he’s happy to have slow moments during the day. They give him a chance to loosen up his mask a little and let his true self slip through the cracks.

With a bored expression on his face, Danny went past the pages with names he had already crossed out until he reached the most recent page. What should he do today? Should he give Mr.Owens a visit and see what he’s up to?

For some reason, the idea didn’t give him as much excitement as it usually did. He had been feeling a little burnt out lately, but maybe it was because of how boring his victim was. A middle-aged businessman who committed fraud and laundered money. Now you would think that would be a little more exciting, but it wasn’t.

Things haven’t been the same as they normally were. He didn’t get that same feeling he got when he was stalking. There were no butterflies in his stomach, there was no shiver down his spine, there was no intense bloodlust. It all felt muted and numb.

He hated when things got like that. He hated feeling bored, especially with victims he spent so much time picking out. The idea of it just wasn’t as appealing as it used to be.

This only happened once before when he had spared his victim, but he found searching for another one to be just as difficult. He was just…tired. He wasn’t going to move again. He arrived only a few months ago, and he liked it here. Typically, he only moved if people got too close to finding out who he truly was, but when he was bored, he did something else.

He got a toy. Someone he could play with, someone he could break down until they were utterly nothing. Knowing that he was capable of doing that gave him quite the rush.

But who would he choose? Who could it be?

“God damn piece of-” You swore under your breath, smacking at your monitor in frustration. Danny smirked, turning his attention to you.

You looked like you were having a long day, your hair all messy, your eyes tired and frustrated, and an awful brown coffee stain all over your shirt.

You came in almost an hour late today and got chewed out pretty bad. Jed watched as the whole scene played out, watched as you hung your head while Langley lectured you. And sure, your bashful and ashamed behavior was cute, but that’s not what he was really interested in.

No, what he’s interested in is that anger he sees in you. The way your fists curled up into balls, as you walked back to your desk, and even the way you are now, scowling at your computer, it was..intriguing.

There’s a certain edge to that angry look you get in your eyes. One that looks like a spark, to something much more fiery you keep inside. He wondered what it would be like to see that flame.

Noticing him staring, you flashed a small, fake, smile, before rebooting your monitor again. You could definitely work as something he could play with.

Danny had taken mental notes of everything he knew about you as he did with most people. He was the type of person to read and observe others around him. To analyze who they were completely, and you were quite interesting.

From studying you, he’s learned a lot. Not as much as he knows of his victims, but a good amount. You just graduated from Florida State University, and from the pictures, he’s seen on your desk, you have a big family, with four brothers and two sisters, all younger than you.

You want to be a big shot journalist, and you’re young and ambitious, a little too ambitious at times. You think that nothing will kill you, but Icarus too, was burnt by the sun.

Out of everyone in the Gazette, you were the most interesting. The rest are all the same, stereotypical by the book reporters, no one standing out like you do.

Danny also found your interactions with Jamison very entertaining. Like always, he would be friendly with you, a little too friendly at times, with lingering touches and glances. You would take notice and try to brush it off or try to avoid it, but would always fail.

When you caught him staring at your ass in your skirts, you tried switching to dress pants, but that didn’t stop him. You were uncomfortable around him, and you didn’t like him. It was cute and funny.

There was just one problem though. Danny had promised himself he would never kill his co-workers, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

He can’t mix business and pleasure, he reminded himself.

But it’s not like you’ll stay. You’re just a temp, after all, and a while after you’re gone, after he’s destroyed you, he’ll kill you.

He couldn’t help but wonder how you would react to Ghostface. Danny loved the way your eyes got all big as you listened to him talk about it, hanging onto every word. He wondered how afraid you would get. He wondered if you would cry and run, or fight back.

That familiar sadistic feeling he got came crawling back into his stomach, making him get excited. Too excited. Grabbing a pen, he began to chew on the cap, trying to keep himself calm. He turned back to his address book, found an open space, and scribbled your name down.

In the end, you’ll probably be happy with him. He’ll give you the fifteen minutes you’re oh so desperate for. He’ll make you a star.

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myonechicagoworld · 3 years

Text

CHICAGO FIRE – RETALIATION HIT (S01E21)

Commander (Sgt. Halstead): How long was she in your apartment?

Kelly Severide: Half hour. Hour tops.

Commander (Sgt. Halstead): And how many beers did you have?

Kelly Severide: Two.

Commander (Sgt. Halstead): In 30 minutes?

Kelly Severide: First time in history anyone ever drank two beers in

half an hour?

Commander( Sgt. Halstead): Ms. Little stated that it was hard to

keep up with you. She felt buzzed.

Kelly Severide: That’s what happens when you drink beer. She’d

know since she brought the six pack over.

Commander (Sgt. Halstead): She said you tried to kiss her, but

she was uncomfortable and tried to

leave. You backed her against the

wall, leaned into her body and put

your hand on her buttock.

Kelly Severide: Unreal.

Commander (Sgt. Halstead): Care to respond?

Mouch: Lieutenant Severide is not obligated to respond to any of

these questions, Commander. He came in good faith to

hear the charges against him.

Kelly Severide: Actually, I faked a yawn and said I was tired and she

should probably get going. Because I started

thinking she was a little… desperate.

cutscene

[door buzzing]

[door opens]

Police Officer (Officer Blair): You’re up, Voight.

[handcuffs clicking]

cutscene

Hallie Thomas: How’s Dawson?

Matt Casey: Good. Great.

Why?

Hallie Thomas: Don’t even pretend.

Matt Casey: Um, she’s dating young Peter Mills.

Hallie Thomas: That sneaky little bastard. Good for him.

Matt Casey: How about yourself? Seeing anybody?

Hallie Thomas: Nah, no one serious.

Matt Casey: You heard about Curtis, right?

Hallie Thomas: Yeah. Um, is Voight behind it?

Matt Casey: I have no idea. I mean, the kid was in a gang, but

still…

Hallie Thomas: That doesn’t make any difference in terms of

Voight’s case, right?

Matt Casey: Apparently there’s a dismissal hearing today, and his

union is pushing hard for entrapment. All I know is I

can’t get sucked into it again.

cutscene

Hank Voight: [sighs]

I’m hungry. Let’s go.

cutscene

[coffee machine steaming]

Christopher Herrmann: Drink coupons?

Otis Zvonecek: It’s called a loss leader, okay? It gets people in the

door. Once they’re inside, they keep spending.

Christopher Herrmann: I’m already confused, all right? It’s a bar,

not the New York stock exchange.

Matt Casey: It’s actually not that complicated, Herrmann.

Christopher Herrmann: Well, we have a soft opening in a week,

andwe don’t even have our decorations

up yet.

Otis Zvonecek: Call it a drink special. I don’t care.

[kissing sound]

Leslie Shay: Oh, marry him.

Chief Boden: Okay, everybody listen up. In light of recent events…

recent allegations, rather… personnel division has

flagged this house for sexual harassment sensitivity

training.

Matt Casey: [silently groans]

Joe Cruz: Uh, Chief? I think actually it’s sexual harassment and

sensitivity training. ‘Cause the way that you just said it, it

makes it sound like we have to be, uh, sensitive toward

sexual har…

Christopher Herrmann: All right, what the hell? This house needs it.

All right, listen up everybody. CFD special,

okay? Happy hour prices all night long

when Molly’s opens.

[murmuring and applause]

Otis Zvonecek: [groans]

cutscene

Peter Mills: Lieutenant. What you’re going through ain’t right. So if

there’s anything I can do to help, name it. I mean if you

just want to grab a beer or put on some gloves…

Kelly Severide: Appreciate it.

[locker door shuts]

Kevin Hadley: Hey Mills.

[locker door closes]

Kevin Hadley: His shoes need shining.

[alarm buzzing and blaring]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Squad 3, Engine 51, Ambulance 61. Car

accident, 3464 Morgan Street.

Chief Boden: Casey, I just heard from the state’s attorney. Voight’s

out.

Matt Casey: All right.

Chief Boden: Yeah.

[sirens blaring]

Chief Boden: What’s the story here?

Police Officer (Officer Sobek): We got two people stuck.

Chief Boden: What happened?

Police Officer (Officer Sobek): Driver got shot and lost control.

Word is this is the guy that shot

Curtis. Retaliation hit.

[engine humming]

Kelly Severide: Looks unstable. Be careful.

Matt Casey: He’s pinned in. Foot’s stuck on the gas.

Victim 1: [screams] Oh God! Oh God! Help me, please!

- title screen -

[indistinct chatter]

Kelly Severide: Hey, stand clear of the car! Second victim’s

underneath.

Hang on, ma’am. We’re gonna get you out, okay?

Victim 1: Hurry, please.

Matt Casey: Driver’s got a head wound. We’ve got to get him out of

there.

Kelly Severide: Hey, we budge this car, it’s gonna take off.

Chief Boden: We lift the car. Kelly, you get the woman. We stabilise

this on the truck and get the driver at the same time.

Go.

Kelly Severide: Capp, Hadley, air bags and halligans!

Matt Casey: Cruz and Mills, we need bottle Jacks and cribbing as

much as we have. Mouch, take the center punch.

Herrmann, sawzall. Let’s move.

Christopher Herrmann: Got it.

Gabby Dawson: What do we got?

Matt Casey: Looks like a perforating head injury. The driver’s still

alive. You’re gonna have to move fast.

Gabby Dawson: We’re on it.

Victim 1: [whimpers]

Kelly Severide: Okay, help me out with this. We gotta lift it.

Don’t worry, ma’am. We’re right here with you.

Chief Boden: Don’t let it touch that wheel!

Victim 1: [whimpers]

Kelly Severide: Hang in there. Hang in there.

Watch your back.

All right, let’s get that board in!

Victim 1: [cries out]

Kelly Severide: Easy, easy.

Watch it.

Victim 1: [whimpers]

Kelly Severide: You got it?

Chief Boden: Keep her away from that wheel.

Victim 1: [whimpers]

Chief Boden: Good job, guys. Good job.

[glass shattering]

Matt Casey: [grunts]

[engine stops humming]

Chief Boden: Pop those hinges.

Firefighter: I got it.

[grinding]

Chief Boden: There you go! Get the board in now.

Leslie Shay: He’s got a pulse. Barely.

Kelly Severide: Watch his head.

Okay.

Watch it.

You got it?

Leslie Shay: Got it, yeah.

Gabby Dawson: Did I hear right? Voight’s out?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Gabby Dawson: Let’s go.

[siren blaring]

Mouch: You’re not doing what I think you’re doing, are you?

Kelly Severide: [sighs] What if I just meet her face-to-face and…

Mouch: Do not contact this woman, you hear me? We have a

follow-up interview tomorrow, and we have the upper hand

right now. Okay?

cutscene

Gabby Dawson: Single gunshot to the head through and through.

Entrance is at the cheek.

ER Doctor: Pressure?

Gabby Dawson: 50 over 30.

ER Doctor: Get him into six.

Leslie Shay: I told you that Tara chick was bad news. Now look.

Gabby Dawson: So there’s no way that Severide could have gotten

a little too frisky with her?

Leslie Shay: Against her will? No way.

Gabby Dawson: Well, what’s Severide saying?

Leslie Shay: Not much. Whenever he gets this look on his face, I

just steer clear and let him figure it out. ‘Cause me

trying to fix it never does any good. She’s not gonna

get away with this, is she?

Gabby Dawson: Well, that’s what they said about Voight.

Leslie Shay: Ugh, crazy town. I mean, how does that guy walk?

Gabby Dawson: I don’t know. It reminds me of this joke my dad

once told me. Why is Chicago style pizza so

thick?

Leslie Shay: Why?

Gabby Dawson: Don’t worry about it.

Leslie Shay: She’s not here.

Gabby Dawson: Who?

Leslie Shay: Hallie.

Gabby Dawson: I’m not looking for Hallie.

[cell phone vibrating]

Leslie Shay: Who is it?

Gabby Dawson: Blocked. Who blocks their phones anymore other

than drug dealers.

cutscene

[tapping on whiteboard]

Man 1 (Trainer): Nice slacks! Acceptable compliment? Yes, no or

depends?

Christopher Herrmann: I don’t think people call them slacks

anymore.

Man 1 (Trainer): Oh come on, come on. No, you know what I mean.

[laughter]

Man 1 (Trainer): Pants, dungarees, whatever.

Joe Cruz: Depends.

Man 1 (Trainer): On?

Joe Cruz: What part of the pants?

Man 1 (Trainer): Exactly. A female co-worker is standing in front of

you... ”Nice pants,” is acceptable. Walking away

from you, noway, Jose. And why not?

Christopher Herrmann: Isn’t it kind of obvious?

[laughter]

Man 1 (Trainer): Look, I know all this new political correctness-type

deal is a head spinner, ‘cause it was a little more

loosey-goosey back in the day. I mean, hell, when I

first started working for the city you’d-you’d walk

into some locker rooms, they’d have Hustler

centrefolds taped up. You do that nowadays, ninjas

drop from the ceiling and will airlift your ass right

out of there.

[laughter]

Christopher Herrmann: Tell me about it. When-when I started there

was this guy, Eric Weinburger…[chuckles]

and if it was somebody’s birthday, he

would walk around with his testicles

hanging out of his fly…

[laughter]

Man 1 (Trainer): Okay. Okay! Look, tap the brakes, pal. That’s what

I’m talking about.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey.

cutscene

Antonio Dawson: Voight’s got a condo in Myrtle Beach. And there’s

a good shot he threatens to sue the department

for wrongful prosecution, settles for a chunk of

change and then goes to play golf year round.

That’s according to my buddy who used to work

for Voight.

He’s dirty, but he ain’t stupid. He knows he

dodged a bullet on this one. And with his son

already doing a year, there’s no way he’s gonna

come after you again.

Matt Casey: That’s what they told me right before he tried to have

my skull cracked open.

Chief Boden: You’ll keep us apprised, won’t you, Antonio?

Antonio Dawson: Of course.

Chief Boden: Casey. Do not get drawn back into this.

cutscene

Man 2 (Paramedic): Leslie Shay!

Leslie Shay: Hey, Derek.

What’s wrong?

Gabby Dawson: That was Voight.

Leslie Shay: What’d he say?

Gabby Dawson: He’s calling in that favour I owe him.

[exhales]

cutscene

Matt Casey: You’re gonna call Voight back?

Gabby Dawson: [sighs] I mean I guess I have to.

Matt Casey: Want me to?

Gabby Dawson: No. No, no, no. But… that’s really nice of you to

offer.

Matt Casey: You let me know. And we’re cool. No matter what you

do. I don’t want us going down the same road we did

last time and not talking to each other for a month.

You’re too important to me for that.

Gabby Dawson: Thanks. I feel the same way. Which is why I wanted

to bring you in the loop. So that you didn’t think I

was scheming with Voight or anything behind your

back.

Matt Casey: Dawson, I’m serious though. You-you try to deal with

Voight on your own, you’ll end up in quicksand.

Gabby Dawson: Okay.

Man 1 (Trainer): Can I borrow you two for a second?

Matt Casey: [clears throat] “You look very nice today.”

Gabby Dawson: “Thank you.”

Matt Casey: “A bunch of us are gonna get some beers after work.

Care to join?”

Gabby Dawson: Sure, yeah. That sounds fun.”

Matt Casey: Keep going, or…

Man 1 (Trainer): Please.

Matt Casey: Okay.

Leslie Shay: Oh look, he just groped her. Did everybody see that?

Chief Boden: Shay.

Leslie Shay: I’m just saying. That’s all it takes, right?

Matt Casey: “Have you been going to the gym?”

Gabby Dawson: “Um, yeah, you know, here and there. Not as much

as I’d like.”

Matt Casey: “Because your physique looks really good.”

[laughter]

Gabby Dawson: “Well, thank you. That’s really nice of you.”

Man 1 (Trainer): Now freeze it. Freeze it. What did we talk about

behavioural modifiers?

Matt Casey: I think he means stop the role-play

Gabby Dawson: Oh.

Man 1 (Trainer): Matt should not be making comments about

Gabby’s body. We know that.

[cell phone vibrating]

Man 1 (Trainer): But Gabby should not be accepting compliments

about her body from Matt.

Chief Boden: Keep your radio on.

Man 1 (Trainer): Uh why don’t we break for lunch?

All: Yes.

Sure.

Matt Casey: Thank you.

Harold Capp: Hey, candidate?

Peter Mills: Yeah?

Harold Capp: You park across the street?

Peter Mills: Yeah, why?

Oh! Son of a bitch!

Kevin Hadley: Oh, man.

Peter Mills: Man, right in front of the house! God!

Harold Capp: Whoa, wait a second. Wait a second. Isn’t this an

’03?

Peter Mills: Yeah.

Harold Capp: I think this is the model they built with the spare

window.

Yeah.

Kevin Hadley: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Harold Capp: Hang on a second. Hold on, let me show you.

[engine starting]

Peter Mills: [sighs] Ooh… [chuckles]

Yeah funny. Give me my keys.

[Capp & Hadley chuckles]

Peter Mills: That was a good one.

[groans]

cutscene

Kelly Severide: [exhales] I just wanted to talk, you know. Human

being to human being.

Tara Little: I-I-I don’t want to talk about the other night. It’s still so

painful.

Kelly Severide: Tara, come on. We were both there. And if I said

something that offended you…

Tara Little: Look, IAD is pushing me to file a police report. And

despite what happened, I’m not interested in making

this a criminal case.

Kelly Severide: For what?

Look me in the eye. Tell me what I did.

Tara Little: But there is another option. If you apologise on record,

it’s called an Alford plea. You won’t be admitting guilt,

but we could both…avoid the embarrassment of

reliving this in public.

Kelly Severide: You’re crazy.

Tara Little: I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to meet you.

cutscene

Antonio Dawson: I’ll take care of it.

Gabby Dawson: Look, I don’t have a problem calling him to see

what he wants.

Antonio Dawson: No.

Gabby Dawson: Hey. Don’t do anything crazy.

[alarm buzzing and blaring]

(Over PA): Truck 81, Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambulance 61.

Overturned tanker, Eleanor and Fuller.

[sirens wailing]

Kelly Severide: Squad’s set to pull the driver out. We just need

engine to get some water on this fire so we

have some clearance.

Chief Boden: This first tank is leaking sodium hydroxide. We have

an active chemical spill. That is a negative on the

water. That’s going to spread the spill out even

further. We need to get foam on this fire… and

masks on!

Victim 2 (Truck Driver): Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey, get me out of here!

Get me out!

Chief Boden: (into radio) Squad three, suit up for rescue. Call in

Hazmat.

Hang on in there! We’re gonna come and get you!

(into radio) Battalion 25 to dispatch, we need the

closest available foam engine to Bridgeport right

now. We are on Eleanor and Fuller.

Dispatch: (over radio) Copy that, 25.

Chief Boden: Let’s dyke off this area right now. If it gets into the

river, it’ll spread into Chicago.

Matt Casey: Got it. Shovels and pick axes!

Right here. Start digging

[grunting]

Matt Casey: (over radio) Chief, where’s our foam?

Chief Boden: (into radio) We’re working on it, Casey.

Kelly Severide: Chief, if you need us to pull him out now, we’re

ready.

Chief Boden: (into radio)That diesel fire’s impinging on that tanker.

It’s getting ready to blow! You can’t go in yet.

Matt Casey: (into radio) Driver’s gonna get burned inside and out if

he stays in there much longer.

Chief Boden: (into radio) Where the hell is that engine?

[foam spraying]

Chief Boden: Severide.

Kelly Severide: Yeah.

Chief Boden: That foam will cover up the vapors. You ready?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, let’s do it!

Hadley!

Kevin Hadley: Yeah!

Kelly Severide: Have the descender ready to send up the aerial.

Kevin Hadley: Uh, it-it’s new. I don’t know the set-up yet. I’ll just,

uh, I’ll rig up a rope and pulley.

Kelly Severide: Nah, that’s not enough. We’re gonna need the

descender. Ask Mills to do it.

Peter Mills: On it.

Let’s go.

Hadley, stand by.

Here. Take that, run it up

Chief Boden: (into radio) Mouch.

[motor humming]

Chief Boden: Capp, make sure you stay tight to Severide.

Victim 2 (Truck driver): [breathing heavily]

Kelly Severide: Chemicals flooding the cab. Driver’s losing

consciousness.

Victim 2 (Truck driver): [groans]

Kelly Severide: Hey buddy, hang in there. We’re gonna get you out!

Watch your eyes!

Victim 2 (Truck driver): Okay.

[glass shattering]

Peter Mills: Okay, throw me the rope bag.

Harold Capp: It’s coming down.

Kelly Severide: (over radio) Got the harness attached.

Victim 2 (Truck driver): [groans]

Kelly Severide: (over radio) Okay, pull him up!

Peter Mills: Haul!

Victim 2 (Truck driver): [groans]

Kelly Severide: Keep it going!

Okay, Mills, the driver’s clear.

Peter Mills: We’re good!

Kelly Severide: Let’s go, let’s go!

Chief Boden: All right. Bring him over, Mouch.

Joe Cruz: This way!

Peter Mills: Keep it going! Keep it going!

Firefighter: Keep coming!

Victim 2 (Truck driver): [groans]

Gabby Dawson: Let’s go!

Chief Boden: Good job.

Peter Mills: [chuckles]

cutscene

Joe Cruz: Hope we weren’t too much of a pain in the ass.

Man 1 (Trainer): Not at all. Fully aware that you work 24 hour shifts

together and you see the things that you see. And

there should be consideration for that. You just

have to be careful, or you can find yourself in a

real predicament.

Chief Boden: Did everybody hear that?

All: We got it.

Mm-hmm.

Man 1 (Trainer): Still using the Elkhart brass nozzles, I see. Is that a

75/100?

Joe Cruz: Yeah, how you know about nozzles?

Man 1 (Trainer): Ah I took the CFD exam. Back when dinosaurs

roamed the earth. Made it all the way through,

then got dinged on the last day.

Chief Boden: What happened?

Man 1 (Trainer): Colourblind.

What are you gonna do? It all worked out.

Christopher Herrmann: Eh, you know what’s gonna work out on

my end? Molly’s bar. This thing takes off

we’re gonna brand it, franchise it. We’re

gonna have Molly’s Kansas City, Molly’s

Des Moines…

Gabby Dawson: Easy, tiger. Let’s get this one off the ground first.

Peter Mills: Ugh…

Who put dog food in here?

Kevin Hadley: [chuckles]

Peter Mills: That’s funny to you?

Kevin Hadley: Relax, mutt.

Peter Mills: What did you say to me?

All: Hey! Hey! Hey!

Peter Mills: What did you say?

Chief Boden: Hey! Hey!

Kelly Severide: Take it easy!

Mutt? You out of your mind?

Kevin Hadley: When I was a candidate over at 38, they put menthol

in my underwear. What is the…

Chief Boden: No, no, no, no, what you did was so far beyond that,

that if you can’t tell the difference, you are dumber

than you look.

Kevin Hadley: [chuckles] What…

Chief Boden: I mean this house was already under a microscope.

You really couldn’t put that together? You are so lucky

Mills is not filing an incident report. Not to mention

knocking your teeth out.

Kevin Hadley: Did I not apologise?

Peter Mills: You don’t talk to me. I’m serious.

Matt Casey: Everybody shut up. He’s coming in.

Man 1 (Trainer): I told my boss that the course work was complete

here but that a follow-up might not hurt. I did not

mention the infraction, because it would turn into a

major, major deal. I’ve seen folks lose their jobs

over less. And in my sense, this was an isolated

incident involving otherwise good people.

Chief Boden: First of all, let me say thank you. And second of all, I

can assure you that I will deal with all of this in-house.

Man 1 (Trainer): How exactly?

Kevin Hadley: [scoffs]

Chief Boden: Look, anybody asks, I’ll tell them you wanted a

change of scenery. A lot of guys like to float from

house to house as it is.

Kevin Hadley: You know if I had known that kissing ass was the

way to move up in this house, I would have brought

some lip balm.

Chief Boden: Good luck, Hadley.

Kevin Hadley: [scoffs]

Chief Boden: Yeah, good luck.

cutscene

[train in the background]

Antonio Dawson: Come on.

[car door shuts]

Antonio Dawson: Why are you calling my sister?

Hank Voight: I got an ethics panel over at the IG’s here in a little bit.

I was looking for some character references.

Antonio Dawson: Not her. You helped me out of a jam, I don’t

dispute that. But if you got a favour you need

done, you come to me man-to-man and leave

her out of it.

Hank Voight: I hear you left Vice.

Antonio Dawson: What about it?

Hank Voight: Working in that Intelligence unit here in the district?

You got backbone, Antonio. You’ve always been an

aggressive cop. I respect that.

cutscene

Kelly Severide: And?

Mouch: You may be asked to go back in, so… sit tight.

I told you not to contact her.

Kelly Severide: Fine. I screwed up.

Mouch: Big time. Now they’re looking into your history.

Kelly Severide: Of?

Mouch: Other women you’ve... banged on the job.

Kelly Severide: What?

Mouch: Remember Nicki Rutkowski?

Kelly Severide: What about her?

Mouch: Her name came up. Did it end bad?

Kelly Severide: No!

We slept together a couple times, and she went on

her merry way. Ask her.

Mouch: Oh they’re going to.

Kelly Severide: Unreal.

cutscene

Matt Casey: The new place is very, uh… zen.

Hallie Thomas: I’m hardly here.

[liquid pouring]

Matt Casey: Thank you.

Hallie Thomas: Mm-hmm.

To new beginnings, I guess. Right?

Matt Casey: I like it.

[glass clinking]

Matt Casey: Well, uh, this is all your stuff. Just some pictures and

jewellery.

Hallie Thomas: And here’s yours. Pictures and Blackhawk

memorabilia.

Matt Casey: I was wondering where all that went.

Yes!

[kissing sound]

Hallie Thomas: [chuckles] You know, I found this contract that we

both signed after we had that argument about

where to spend Christmas. Do you remember it?

Matt Casey: I do. Yeah.

Hallie Thomas: [giggles]

Matt Casey: Let’s always keep the fighting clean and the sex dirty.

[laughter]

[kissing sounds]

cutscene

[coins clinking]

Hank Voight: IG office on a Tuesday afternoon, that can’t be good.

Just remember, squeakiest wheel always wins around

here.

Kelly Severide: Looks like it.

Hank Voight: You’re Benny Severide’s kid, huh?

Kelly Severide: That’s right.

Hank Voight: Ol’ Benny…

[chuckles] I’ll be seeing you around.

Kelly Severide: Yeah, I don’t plan on making it out to Myrtle Beach

anytime soon.

Hank Voight: Well, neither do I. I just got reinstated.

[door closes]

cutscene

Matt Casey: Where on the job?

Kelly Severide: No, he didn’t say.

Peter Mills: God, has the world gone crazy? What the heck is going

on?

Kelly Severide: I know. Tell me about it.

Gabby Dawson: Well, they’ll just park him somewhere behind a

desk, right? Let him collect a paycheck for

nothing. I mean if I’m CPD, that’s what I would

want.

Matt Casey: That’s got nothing to do with it. It’s what Voight wants.

Gabby Dawson: [whispers] Damn it. Maybe I should have just

played ball with him.

Peter Mills: No, absolutely not.

Gabby Dawson: But now I’m on his enemy list?

[door opens]

Peter Mills: Who’s that?

Kelly Severide: Nicki’s dad.

[knocks on door]

Chief Boden: Hey! Big Al!

Al Rutkowski: Hey, Wallace.

Chief Boden: [chuckles] What brings you out?

Al Rutkowski: I guess that Severide character’s got himself in a bit

of a pickle, huh?

Chief Boden: How’d that get on your radar?

Al Rutkowski: Well, the girl he attacked, her lawyer contacted me.

Chief Boden: Attacked? Since when do you believe everything the

lawyers tell you?

Al Rutkowski: [scoffs] Yeah, well, regardless, I guess they want my

account of events. They’re looking to establish a

pattern of behaviour. And I wanted you to hear it

from me first out of respect for our friendship.

Chief Boden: Hear what?

[door closes]

Al Rutkowski: How I came here to pick Nicki up, and I saw him

guiding her out of that change out room after doing

God knows what. How she came home in tears

after being over at his apartment. How she broke

off her engagement with a guy I happened to like.

And how Nicki came in and quit her job and ran off

to Europe and she hasn’t been able to get her life

back on track since.

Chief Boden: Al, I spoke to him. Nothing happened.

Al Rutkowski: No, he was screwing around with a subordinate on

the job. My daughter. And shame on me for not

having made a bigger stink of it back then,

because now it looks like a girl got hurt.

Chief Boden: Al, I know you’re pissed at him, but if you, as a Chief

in the department, if you go forward with your beef,

you will sink him.

Al Rutkowski: Do you really believe that he didn’t push that girl up

against the wall because she didn’t want to be

another notch on his belt?

Chief Boden: We go way back. I’m going to vouch for Kelly

Severide.

Al Rutkowski: Yeah, well, like I said, I want you to hear it from me.

Chief Boden: Please don’t do this.

Al Rutkowski: I already did. They have my statement.

Chief Boden: Yeah. Nice knowing you, Al.

[alarm buzzing and blaring]

(Over PA): Ambulance 61, fallen person. 1610 Kedzie Street.

[siren blaring]

Child 1: Hurry, I think my dad’s sick.

Gabby Dawson: What’s your dad’s name?

Child 1: Terrence. I’m Patrick.

And that’s Buddy.

Leslie Shay: Oh.

Gabby Dawson: Okay.

[snake hissing]

Victim 3 (Terrence): [groans]

Gabby Dawson: Okay, see ya.

Leslie Shay: Okay, here we go.

Gabby Dawson: What was that, a pet?

Child 1 (Patrick): What about my dad? Something’s wrong with

him.

Gabby Dawson: [groans] I don’t believe this!

Patrick, how long since that snake bit your dad?

Patrick?

Child 1 (Patrick): My dad says not to tell anyone about Buddy.

We’re not supposed to have him.

Gabby Dawson: How long, sweetie?

Child 1 (Patrick): Ten minutes?

Gabby Dawson: Okay, I’m gonna call animal control.

Leslie Shay: What kind of snake is it?

Child 1 (Patrick): Rhino Viper. He got out of his cage.

Leslie Shay: We gotta go back in there.

Gabby Dawson: Bitch, are you out of your f… Dear valued

colleague, I strongly disagree with your

suggested course…

Leslie Shay: Okay, God only knows what Rhino Viper venom does

to a person, okay? We can’t wait on animal control.

He might not even have 30 minutes.

Gabby Dawson: [groans]

Leslie Shay: Patrick, hi, um, what does your dad use to handle

Buddy?

Child 1 (Patrick): The hook.

Leslie Shay: The hook. Come on.

Victim 3 (Terrence): [groans]

Child 1 (Patrick): Here it is.

[snake hissing]

Leslie Shay: That is a longass snake.

[heavy breathing]

Here.

Gabby Dawson: Whoa! What?

Leslie Shay: You do it. I can’t. I can’t.

Gabby Dawson: [exhales] Okay, Patrick. What do I do?

Child 1 (Patrick): Dad puts the hook under him and grabs his tail.

Gabby Dawson: Mm-hmm. Grabs his tail. Right, of course

[exhales]

Hey, Buddy.

[groans]

[snake hisses]

Gabby Dawson: Oh God! Okay.

[metal rod clanging]

Gabby Dawson: [heavy breathing]

Leslie Shay: We’ve got to try again.

Gabby Dawson: Yeah.

Victim 3 (Terrence): [groans & whimpers]

Leslie Shay: Just… try again.

Gabby Dawson: [frustrated groan]

[snake hissing]

Gabby Dawson: [whimpering]

Come on. Come on.

Leslie Shay: Yes. Yes. Yes.

[thud]

Gabby Dawson: [panting] Nightmares. I will have nightmares.

Victim 3 (Terrence): [gasping]

Gabby Dawson: Okay, let’s put him in the chair and get him out of

here.

Victim 3 (Terrence): [struggling to breathe]

Leslie Shay: Watch the cabinet.

Gabby Dawson: Let’s go.

Child 1 (Patrick): Is he gonna be okay?

Gabby Dawson: He’ll be okay. Hop in.

[ambo door shuts]

cutscene

[door closes]

Kelly Severide: What’s up?

Mouch: Uh, a couple things. Internally, Tara’s not gonna be acting

on the charges.

Kelly Severide: What do you mean internally? Are the charges

dropped or not?

Mouch: Well, there’s where it gets complicated.

Chief Boden: She’s been reinstated as commander of operations at

field division headquarters.

Kelly Severide: Promoted?

Chief Boden: IAD felt an administrative post might be a better fit for

her.

Kelly Severide: For a liar?

Mouch: IAD lacked the sufficient amount of confidence needed to

disprove her claim, so they wanted to move quickly to have

this go away.

Kelly Severide: Great! Y-You know what? Make her the… Queen of

England, I don’t care.

Are-are we done?

Mouch: No. Because of Chief Rutkowski’s rather incendiary

statement, the IG has sustained Tara’s allegations. They’re

kicking the case up to the State Attorney’s office.

Kelly Severide: Meaning what?

Mouch: Meaning they will review it. And if they feel there’s a case,

they’ll file charges. Criminal charges.

Kelly Severide: [sighs]

Chief Boden: You need to get an attorney, Kelly. You need to be

ready.

Mouch: Listen… this is not coming from me. But it was put out

there that if you did apologise for what she’s claiming, it

might go a long way towards…

[sighs]

cutscene

[water running]

Kelly Severide: I walked her to the door.

Leslie Shay: We’re gonna fight this. We’re gonna be all right.

Kelly Severide: I don’t trust anyone in this world other than you.

Christopher Herrmann: Hey buddy. We heard. No one can believe

it. Look, we’re doing our soft opening

tonight. Maybe you want to come down,

tie one on, be around your friends.

Kelly Severide: I’m not up for it.

Christopher Herrmann: No. Of course. All right.

Joe Cruz: Hang in there, man.

cutscene

Gabby Dawson: This is it, you guys.

Otis Zvonecek: Ready or not.

Christopher Herrmann: I got jitters, I ain’t gonna lie.

Gabby Dawson: This is probably like, the craziest, riskiest, insanest

thing any of us has ever done.

Otis Zvonecek: And for Herrmann, that’s saying something.

Christopher Herrmann: [chuckles]

Gabby Dawson: But if nothing else, I have had so much fun

spending all those days off and all the wee hours

building Molly’s with you guys. And I know that

you guys have heart because I saw it when you

put it in the business, and I just want you to

know that I consider you guys family. You’re my

brothers.

Christopher Herrmann: Wow. You’re beautiful. I know it’s been a

tough couple of shifts for everybody. But

that is why this place is gonna rock

tonight. Because we’re gonna put aside

our worries, and we’re just gonna have a

good time.

Otis Zvonecek: Amen.

Gabby Dawson: Amen.

Christopher Herrmann: Amen.

Gabby Dawson: To Molly’s.

Christopher Herrmann: To Molly’s.

Otis Zvonecek: Does it sound like we’re saying “tamales”?

Christopher Herrmann: What? Who cares? This place is gonna

rock!

Otis Zvonecek: I hope so, ‘cause I’m a little concerned about the

number of hits we’re getting on Facebook.

Gabby Dawson: Oh my gosh.

Otis Zvonecek: Not as much traffic as I want. Not to mention…

Christopher Herrmann: Will you please celebrate the moment, for

God’s sake.

Otis Zvonecek: To Molly’s.

[glass clinking]

cutscene

Peter Mills: [grunts]

Come on, another one.

All right, another one.

Kelly Severide: [grunts]

Peter Mills: Throw it out!

Kelly Severide: Unh! Unh!

Peter Mills: Come on! Come on. Come on man.

Kelly Severide: [grunts]

[laboured breathing]

[spits]

cutscene

Christopher Herrmann: Are you guys good?

Crowd/Customers: We’re great!

All right.

[chatter & laughter]

Christopher Herrmann: Who is this guy?

Joe Cruz: That’s my Uncle Zoozie!

Leslie Shay: Hey, so I cannot stop thinking about Tara being

promoted?

Gabby Dawson: Oh, she is a bureau bitch now. We’re never gonna

see her.

Leslie Shay: Oh, if I do, I’m gonna drop her. Not joking.

Joe Cruz: Good to see ya.

Hallie Thomas: Thanks.

Matt Casey: Hey.

Gabby Dawson: [clears throat]

Leslie Shay: When did that happen?

Gabby Dawson: Good for them.

Leslie Shay: [sighs] Oh, yeah…

[door closes]

Christopher Herrmann: [laughs]

Cop walks into a bar…

[chatter dies]

Hank Voight: Wow. It’s a nice place. Congratulations.

[chuckles] Chief.

[exhales] Listen, there’s…there’s been a lot of bad

blood between cops and firemen in this district.

Since we’re all gonna be working together, I want

to be the first to put it all behind us.

This round’s on me.

Gabby Dawson: So what was that about?

Antonio Dawson: You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

Gabby Dawson: What?

Antonio Dawson: He was promoted to Sergeant, and he’s running

the Intelligence Unit.

Gabby Dawson: You’re in the Intelligence Unit.

Antonio Dawson: Don’t I know it.

Hank Voight: I want to apologise. To you both. It got way out of

hand. You know, as it turns out my son needed to

hit rock bottom. Prison has certainly provided that.

I just want to say I’m sorry. And I am looking forward

to working with you, Lieutenant.

[sighs]

- end -

Definitions:

Bottle Jacks – Have a capacity of up to 50 tons and may be used to lift a variety of objects

Hustler – Prostitute

IAD – Internal Affairs department

Alford plea – Guilty plea in criminal court, whereby a defendant in a criminal case does not admit to the criminal act and asserts innocence. Defendants usually enter an Alford guilty plea if they want to avoid a possible worse sentence were they to lose the case against them at trial. It affords defendants the ability to accept a plea bargain while maintaining innocence

Dyke – a ditch

Descender – The descender or “descent control device” is another important element of a bailout kit selection. They are used as friction brakes when descending a rope in a rescue situation

IG’s – Office of Inspector General (I believe)

Rhino Viper – Small doses of the snake’s primarily hemotoxic venom can be deadly. This venom attacks the circulatory system of the snake’s victim, destroying tissue and blood vessels. Internal bleeding also occurs. In only a few detailed reports of human envenomation, massive swelling, which may lead to necrosis, had been described.

18 notes · View notes

curly-bangtan · 5 years

Text

Blizzard (M)

Pairing: roommate!Jungkook x reader

Summary: When a blizzard hits your town, you and your shy awkward roommate are forced to spend time together, not being able to leave the house due to the strong snowstorm. To make matters worse, the power gets cut in the middle of his shower. Which also means no heating.

Genre: roommate au, domestic au, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers

Warnings: bit of a slow burner, vanilla!Jungkook, virgin!reader, dry humping, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (m receiving), losing virginity, shy soft boy Koo with a crush and a noona kink, your heart could possibly burst from how cute he is

Word Count: 15.5k oops

A/N: (This fic is written in parallel to Heatwave, with an opposing concept in mind. You don’t have to read Heatwave to read this, but it would be interesting and funny to see the differences in the two scenarios that both lead to roommates hooking up.) Also, happy birthday, bunny boy! Sorry this was a day late, I was honestly swarmed. I love you, koo. Writing this very much gave me a bias crisis but it was all worth it. Enjoy! :”)

PS. Think April 2019 Jungkook

‘A severe snowstorm is set to hit us this weekend with temperatures dropping down to -16˚C. It is therefore ill-advised for anyone to leave their houses during this period until the blizzard subsides as the fifth snow-induced traffic accident has been reported this week in our town…’

You have always marvelled at how the weather lady announces such things with such a passionate captivating tone.

‘The calculated probability of a city-wide power cut is currently at 72%, so please be well-equipped to stay indoors for the next two days.’

Oh shit. A power cut?

This is not good at all. Not like you have any plans for this weekend anyway, and you wouldn’t necessarily mind being stuck inside since you are good at entertaining yourself. But to possibly have no warm water, no internet in the duration of these few days?

You are currently snugly rolled up in the warmth of your blanket burrito, a mug of chamomile tea fitted in your hands, the steam of which evaporates under your chin into a slick coat. Friday evenings have never been eventful for you as long as Jimin doesn’t drag you out to some bar with him. As introverted as one can get, you much prefer staying in and watching TV or endlessly browsing the web.

The distinct rattling of keys spins your attention to the front door. Hearing the plunge of the metal into the keyhole is strangely satisfying to your ears. In steps a pink-nosed, frost-dusted Jungkook, all wrapped up in winter apparel thick enough to make him waddle clumsily.

A gust of cold flares inside from the harsh outdoors, stray flakes of snow flying in after him and landing on the rich oak tiles of the foyer. From the couch, you see his silhouette breathe out a visible grey huff. The door behind him falls shut, once again entrapping the warm temperature into the confines of these walls.

You watch your roommate, humming to himself with his black earpods hooked in his ears, as he unties the scarf around his neck. He probably hasn’t noticed your presence yet; he’s always been a little clueless afterall.

Then he looks up and meets your lingering gaze.

You both jump a little, his humming ceases instantly, eyes scrambling, darting away to your surroundings: the quiet television, the arching lamp, the white powdered window panes. Anywhere but at each other.

Clearing your throat, you greet him softly . ‘Hi.’ Your thumb rubs at the lip-shaped tea stain on the rim of your mug.

‘Um, hi. Good evening, noona.’ He dips his head at you, hood drooping lower over his head. You are two years his senior, and despite your supposed familiarity, he insists on formalities.

The weather lady has now been replaced with the anchorman, who is droning on about the car accident this morning. Awkwardness hangs in the air between you, as it always does every time you speak. It’s now your turn to say something, you’re painfully aware. But what do you say?

‘Snow storm.’ It is a statement more than anything. As if he hasn’t noticed… Nice one. You immediately want to hide your face in the mint furry throw you’re wrapped in.

‘Yeah. Snow storm.’ The rubbery sound of the careless removal of his shoes against the floor is louder than his response. ‘Jimin didn’t make it.’

Your blood freezes. ‘Wait what?! Oh my god! What happened to him?’ It takes the blanket sliding off you for you to realise that you’ve stood up abruptly. Your body is immediately flushed with a breeze of cold, devoid of insulation.

The car accident… It can’t be…

Jungkook’s attention flickers to the glaring screen as he paces towards you and realises how he must’ve sounded. ‘Woah, sorry, I worded it badly. I mean, Jimin’s stuck at Taehyung’s because the snow is too thick for him to drive back. And the service on his phone is whack, so he can’t reach you. Taehyung told me. Sorry, I didn’t mean he didn’t make it.’ Nervous chuckle. Scratching the back of his head.

Never has he said this many words to you in one go, this must be a record. That, as well as your own silly misunderstanding of his words, makes you release a humoured breath. ‘Oh right… Haha… I’m stupid.’

‘No. my bad.’

Wow. If you two keep this up, this might just be your longest running conversation in the history of living together.

Because he’s looking at the floor rather than you, you feel the liberation to look directly at his face. His round nose is red from the freezing temperature, his teeth gnawing at his chapped lips. You follow his gaze travel across the dark wooden panels, reaching a halt at your feet.

‘You’ve got a hole in your sock, noona.’ He states.

Indeed you do. Under his wide-eyed glare, you can’t help but curl your toes inwards as if it would hide your pinkie jutting out of the fabric. The way he addresses you, how his lips form a pouted ring when he pronounces the “oo”, makes you particularly self conscious. ‘Oh… Yeah, I know, it’s fine. It’s my only pair of fuzzy socks.’ These socks have sheltered your feet for three winters only to betray you now, during a bloody blizzard. The icy floor licks at your exposed skin tauntingly.

Silence draws taut between you. Like you’re tied to opposite ends of a string and are both trying desperately to escape, to walk away from each other.

It’s his move now… Why isn’t he saying something? But at the same time, what can he possibly respond to ‘It’s my only pair of fuzzy socks.’?

‘Right… See you.’ Jungkook nods politely and heads for his room. And you know you probably won’t see him reemerge until tomorrow; it’s practically his batcave in there.

A shudder courses through your body. Though it’s not from the cold but rather the embarrassment of that encounter. Quickly switching off the TV, you hide back in the comforts of your blanket like a Halloween ghost and scurry into your own room to avoid seeing him again.

Jeon Jungkook.

Even the thought of his name makes you crease inward involuntarily like it’s some bad memory. Despite having lived under the same roof for more or less six months, neither of you have warmed to the other in the slightest. It’s not that you have anything against him; you’re sure he must be a lovely boy, but…

Well, when you put two shy individuals next to each other, you can’t really expect them to bond over their bashfulness. No, they both tend to retract into their shells.

How you came about living together is three simple syllables: Park Jimin. If it wasn’t for this one common thread you share, your worlds would never have collided.

Ever the caring friend, it goes without saying that Jimin would rent out his vacant room in his three-bedroom house to you without even a second of hesitation after Hoseok ditches the boys to move in with his girlfriend. You’ve met all his friends before. Jimin is a social butterfly afterall, how could he resist forcing all his best mates into a confined space and make them talk to each other, or more commonly known as a party?

Namjoon and you get along just fine, seeing as you both are whores for literature. Seokjin? As long as you compliment his cooking and force a giggle at his jokes, he’ll accept your friendship. Surprisingly, Yoongi took a liking to you; you guess is due to your mild mellow nature which must clear his headaches caused by this chaotic bunch. Unsurprisingly, Hoseok took a liking to you, well, because he’s Hoseok and incapable of negativity. Much to Jimin’s jealousy, you have a soft spot for Taehyung, his mysterious charm and boyish charisma; your friendship was almost instant.

But then Jungkook…

Your introduction was a blur of awkward hellos and unmet eyes. Every time you spoke to each other, it’s a nervous stutter from him or unwarranted silence from you. Worse, if the two of you happened to bump into each other in public, neither of you knew whether or not to say hi and commence a conversation like normal acquainted people, so it always ended up being an uncomfortably long pause before nodding out of courtesy then parting ways. It’s not like you belong to the same friendship group and see each other every week or anything.

Jungkook’s playful childisness shines brightly when surrounded by the boys, witch-cackle laugh and all. However, for some reason unbeknownst to anyone, this goofy side to him is immediately switched off in your presence, as if you’re the rain that extinguishes the flame of his candle. His body stiffens, eyes widen, voice stammers. Which only leads you to mirror his behaviour.

‘He’s just really uncomfortable around girls.’ Jimin has tried to offer the only plausible explanation. ‘Poor kid went to an all boys’ school his whole life, has only ever had one girlfriend who dumped him on their one year anniversary. Your femaleness scares him.’

That would be kind of cute, you guess, if you weren’t also a socially-uncomfortable hermit who requires soft gentle prodding in order to befriend. Because then you become two logs sitting beside each other, neither willing to inch towards the other.

Forgive Jimin’s mistake of thinking that sharing a roof would change this. Because how wrong was he… If anything, it only led to increased timidity around each other.

When you first moved in, Jungkook was eager to help you carry and unpack everything, seeing as he is the most physically apt person in the house. So you thought that it was his first step towards you, and that your dynamic was finally making progress into becoming one that’s more comfortable. He even lingered around your room the first few days with Jimin to help you open all your cardboard boxes.

However, he has since struggled to utter more than five words to you. Which has continued forth until this day. In the morning rush to class, you never encounter him due to your proneness to punctuality and his to tardiness. If you ever do, it’s only ever just a quick good morning, noona without looking up from his cereal. You both enjoy the safety of your own rooms, hence rarely peak your head out unless it’s for food. Jimin is always the one to drag you out by the foot, even if its just to his room or the sofa to watch a film with him. You say drag, but really you just enjoy seeing Jimin all pouty and whiny and sucking up to you in order to earn precious quality time with you; you actually enjoy being around Jimin. It’s worse for Jungkook though because he has his own ensuite bathroom, orders Deliveroo instead of coming out to eat with you two, and only ever joins social gatherings that you’re also involved in if a high enough bribe is offered.

Hence the time you and Jungkook are exposed to each other gradually diminished over time despite being roommates. At first you only suspected, but now you know for a fact, that he is purposely avoiding you like the plague.

It baffles you, if Jimin’s theory is true, how he could possibly be scared of you, regardless of his shyness towards the female specimen. Look at you, you’re this soft-mannered, quiet-spoken creature with a meek presence. You have more reason to be intimidated by his melon-sized biceps and aggressive shouts that echo from his room when he’s gaming at 2am.

So due to this mutually reciprocated mousiness, this awkward friendship-but-not-quite thing, has never been overcome in these months.

This is not a result of lack of trying, at least from your end. You do try to talk to him, exerting enough friendliness to burst your balloon of introversion. And you suppose he does make as much effort as he can as well. He once left you a note telling you to help yourself to the leftover pizza in the fridge. On your birthday, he gave you a card in which he drew cute little cartoon illustrations of you three housemates and wrote a short message.

Happy birthday, Y/N noona!

You are such a kind person, I hope we can speak more.

Jungkook :)

You thought the exclamation mark and smiley face were above and beyond for his standards. It made you smile for the rest of the day.

It’s 6:23pm and your growling stomach is exacerbated by the cold that has made itself at home in your bones. You’ve always been an early dinner person while Jimin and Jungkook are the opposite.

You’ve managed to get a hold of Jimin through Taehyung; your FaceTime call with him lasted a total of twelve minutes before the connection got too poor that it hung up on its own. Berating Jimin for leaving you alone with Jungkook, especially in this snow storm where everyone is basically on house arrest, all he did was laugh at your feign annoyance. You know it isn’t Jimin’s fault but you still like to blame him for all the awkward predicaments that are bound to happen.

After this chapter of the book you’re reading, you’ll go out to the kitchen and make some dinner, you decide.

Wait a second... Do you even have enough food in the pantry to last a whole weekend? Particularly since Jungkook can easily demolish three bowls of rice and a whole pound of meat, and still have room for dessert?

Looking out the window, you realise it’s snowing way too hard for you to feel confident to pop to the nearest grocery store without slipping and dying.

Shit! What are you going to eat these few days? Especially since the electricity can cut any minute?

Just then, you hear the echo of the front door shutting. Oh no… Jungkook did not just go out in this weather. He probably noticed the lack of food as well and decided to go for a shop. You know what he’s like, he’s a boy who’s really certain of his capabilities, over certain in fact. He probably does not see the hazard of leaving the house in such heavy snow, especially in the evening. Because nothing stands in the way between Jungkook and Food.

Do you go after him? Hell, if you do, you would probably get lost somewhere and slowly freeze to your inevitable death. You can barely navigate in perfect daylight.

Scrambling for your phone, you begin searching for his number. You’ve embarrassingly only called him once, and that was when you and Jimin got locked out of the house after a pub night.

No one is picking up.

In fact, when you check your screen, you don’t even have signal. The blizzard must be getting so bad that it’s refracting the radio waves. Which means it’s even worse for Jungkook to be out right now.

He’s such an idiot. Why did he think it’s okay to just take a walk to the supermarket right now in the middle of a snow storm? You’re such an idiot. Why were you too lazy to stock up on food during the day?

You pace around your room, phone clutched in your hand in case you miraculously get signal somehow. How on earth would you explain to Jimin that your roommate, his friend, whom he left in your care since you’re his senior, went out in a blizzard to buy food that you were supposed to have gotten this morning, and ended up dead from hypothermia?

Are you overreacting? Surely you’re overreacting. Everything is going to be fine! Deep breaths.

He’s going to come back any minute now and see you losing your mind over nothing. Right? Right.

Jungkook isn’t going to die. You’re being paranoid. Ridiculous. Overly anxious as usual.

But you can’t help yourself from pressing your face against your window to try to peek outside for a sign of him. The glass is ice cold against your skin, and it sends a blood-chilling shock through your veins. You can barely make out any shapes in the sea of greys and whites.

If you can’t even see out the window, how is he walking outside right now?

Screw it, you’re going to find him.

You’re a tornado getting dressed, whipping on your massive faux-fur lined puffer coat over two layers of fleece. A pair of gloves, double layer of socks, snow boots. Useless phone and hand warmers shoved in your pockets, you storm out of the house.

The cold that greets you burns up your nostrils and painfully invade your lungs. Snow is flying directly at your face, and you’re barely sheltered by your hood as you feel the icy flakes stab at your skin and melt away. Step by wary step, you steadily walk off your porch, careful not to slip. Your heart leaps out of your chest when your feet sink down at least 10 inches of snow, your squeal is muffled by the scarf you’re using as a ski mask.

It’s now been at least 10 minutes since he’s left. Jungkook is a fast walker, but in the snow, perhaps you could catch up with him.

The flickering lamp posts light up the night, but they may as well not be working because all you can see is white. Barely able to keep your eyes open, and batting away the heavy wind that’s threatening to blow you over, you trek in the direction of the local supermarket.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you realise that you don’t recognise the way anymore. Everything is a blur of snow. The cars, houses, street signs. All snow. Google maps is failing you; you’ve given up removing your gloves each time, your fingers instantly freezing at the exposure, to zoom in or rotate the navigation which keeps hopping from location to location.

You’re utterly and undeniably - lost.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you just plop down on your ass in defeat.

Where the hell are you? Where the hell is Jungkook?

Fear and frustration bubbles in your chest. It must have been half an hour now since you left the house. Surely he should be back, and surely he would’ve intercepted you on the way. That could either mean one of two possibilities: he got lost, slash, injured, slash, died on his way, or you have somehow strayed from the route to the store and he’s now frantically searching for you.

The lump in your throat festers into a ball of panic and despair. Looking around you, there’s absolutely no one. Just eerily-still buildings and snow-hidden cars. The only sound is the howl of the winter gust and your own uneven breathing.

You’re scared, and cold, and alone.

Why the hell did you think you could find him in this snow storm? You watch your warm visible exhale disperse in the icy air, the stinging of desperate tears piercing the back of your eyes. What are you supposed to do now?

And then it hits you. Perhaps you could trace your steps back since your feet have imprinted a trail in the snow. Looking behind you, you see that the downpour of snow has already began filling the footprints nearest to you. You’re praying that they haven’t already entirely covered your earlier steps closer to the house.

Gathering yourself together, you exert a lot of effort to stand up from the ground. Your butt is now wet, and a damp chill is seeping into your underwear. Determined, you follow your footsteps, which are growing fainter, back home.

You’re hoping you recognise the way now, that you’re not just convincing yourself that the street looks familiar.

Then an awful realisation hits you.

Both your hands are stuffed into your pockets, holding those hand-warming packets and your phone. But not your keys. You forgot your keys.

‘Fuck!’ Cursing is rare for you, but anyone would probably deem this situation as a very reasonable one to swear at.

Hot gushes of tears begin flooding down your face, painting streaks of cold that freeze over in a matter of seconds. How could you be this dumb? The snow is getting heavier right now. Checking the time on your phone, it’s 7 o’clock. The streetlights are dimming due to the weather, and the pitch dark night is starting to settle in around you.

You sink to a crouch.

This is it then, you guess. You’ve met your inexorable demise, rooted from your own stupidity. And Jungkook.

You can’t believe you’re going to die trying to find Jungkook in a goddamn snow storm.

The quiet sobs and sniffles that escape you are muted by the hood around your ears. A shiver overtakes your body as your muscles tremble as a last attempt to keep you alive. Your whole face is numb, teeth clattering, eyes clamped shut to stop the tears from freezing on your cheeks.

‘Noona?’

The voice is muffled but you recognise it instantly. Your eyes fly open to see a pair of shoes halted in front of you. You look up.

And there Jungkook is, eyes wide in shock, quivering lips parted in concern, carrying four plastic bags full of food and supplies. The streetlight situated directly behind him shines a halo around his head, painting a heavenly image of him. You’ve never been more glad to see anyone in your life.

Unable to contain yourself, you fling your ice-stiffened arms around his waist and bury your face in his coat-clad torso. Your knees give in and hit the ground. New tears spring from your eyes, but this time it’s tears of relief, tears of joy, tears of gratitude. A surge of his warmth washes over you, and all of a sudden, the cold cannot touch you.

‘W-What happened? Are you- Are you okay?’ Jungkook is rooted to the ground, he wants to wrap an arm around your small head or help you up but his hands are full with the groceries.

Gripping his sleeves, you tug yourself up to face him. You probably look like a mess, red eyes, nose and cheeks. But you don’t care. Jungkook is alive, you’re alive, and you’ve found each other. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, Jungkook. Everything is fine.’

‘You’re crying, noona.’ His ears are neatly tucked under his black knitted beanie.

‘Not anymore, I’m good now.’ Ferociously wiping the liquids profusely leaking out of your orifices, you give him the biggest grin your frozen cheek muscles would allow. ‘Let’s go home. Do you need help with the bags?’

‘No, don’t worry about them.’

Standing an inch apart, you walk side by side following his lead, assuming he knows the way. The material of your coats scrape at each other when either of you leans a bit too far towards the other.

‘What are you doing out here though?’ He asks quietly.

What are you doing out here? How do you give him an explanation that does not depict you as an idiot? Because once again, you’ve been stupid and dramatic and stressed over absolutely nothing. It’s twice in the same day now that you thought one of your roommates have died. When both of them turned out to be alive and well.

‘Um… Well, I thought it was dangerous for you to go outside alone in this weather, especially since it’s getting dark... I tried calling you but had no signal so, uh, I decided to... uh, come out to find you…’ Embarrassment begins to creep it’s way to your senses, it claws digging into your skin.

You peak at him in your peripheral vision to see him stiffen, eyes eerily focused on the snowy path in front. What is he thinking? Is he going to laugh at you? Think you’re dumb? Find you weird and obsessive?

‘Oh… Um.’ Clearing his throat, he glances at you and you quickly look away. Flustered. ‘You didn’t have to, I’m fine. I know this neighbourhood like the back of my hand, noona.’

‘Yeah, but you took so long. I got worried…’ You whisper the last bit.

An awkward pause is birthed. Your fists tighten around the hand warmers in your pockets.

‘I- I’m sorry for worrying you, noona.’ You hear his own fists tighten around the handle of bags as well, the plastic crinkling. ‘The supermarket around the corner was shut so I had to find another one that wasn’t. I made it just in time, though, right before this one closed as well. Then I also had to find a store that sells those so-’ He stops abruptly when he realises that he’s rambling.

‘Sells what?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Jungkook mumbles.

Another silence. The night has fallen, looking around, if it isn’t for the scarce light casted by the lamp posts, everything would be pitch dark. You’re so glad you’re not alone. Worse come to worse, you would’ve had to knock on these random houses and beg them to take you in for the night.

‘Wait,’ he says, ‘That doesn’t explain why you were crying.’

Well, crap. What are you supposed to say?

‘Uhh… Well, I got lost and my phone wasn’t working, so… I just kinda panicked.’ If your face wasn’t red from the cold and embarrassment from before, it definitely is now. You feel the blood pumping to your head, enough to make you sway a little.

‘Oh shit. I’m sorry, that was all my fault. I- I should’ve told you I was popping out in the first place. Ugh, noona, I’m sorry.’ You’ve never seen him display much emotion towards you, but currently, seeing him so alive with exasperation… It’s kind of endearing.

Screw earlier, this is the longest conversation the two of you have had, ever.

‘No, Jungkook, stop apologising. It wasn’t your fault at all!’

To be fair, you couldn’t have wandered that far if Jungkook found you on his way back from whatever shop he went to; you must’ve been close at least.

And so you two arrive safely to your house. Carefully wobbling up the porch slippery with slush, you stop in front of the door.

He looks at you expectantly. ‘Keys, noona?’ Of course, his hands are full.

Here you are, thinking you could’ve gotten away with not telling him you had moronically left your keys at home. ‘Um, I forgot to bring them with me.’ You utter, then add. ‘I was in a hurry.’

For a second, Jungkook looks like he’s about to tell you off for endangering yourself with such stupidity. But he just lets out a half-laugh half-sigh and bites down on his lip. ‘Mine are in my left, no, right back jean pocket.’

Right. He is asking you to get his keys from his back pocket.

His back pocket.

You freeze.

You’ve never so much as touched Jungkook, if you don’t count brushing shoulders. Hugging him back there was purely out of hysteria, which you retracted from the second you registered your action. Now, you’re going to grope his ass. This day just keeps getting you more familiar with him, doesn’t it?

Gulping, you suck up your cowardice and slide your hand into his back pocket, intentionally not looking at him while doing so. The firmness of his buttcheek fits snugly in your palm while your index finger hooks around his keyring. And what the hell, you strangely get the urge to squeeze it.

You yank your hand out of there before it can betray you and act on that impulse. Glimpsing up, you see that his cheeks are also crimson as he stares up at the ceiling a little too attentively.

After changing into some warm dry clothes and setting your snow-dampened ones on the radiator, you go out to the kitchen to see Jungkook cooking some ramen, which doesn’t come as a surprise as he practically lives off them. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a black hoodie; after cupping his ass through his back pocket, you can’t help but notice how round his rear is, especially in those bottoms.

God, what is wrong with you? You cannot seriously be checking Jungkook’s ass out.

This time his hood his down, and you appreciate how fluffy his hair is starting to grow. You can’t help but wonder what it sme-

Woah.

Why are you thinking so much about Jungkook?

Truth be told, that scare he gave you just now opened your eye as to how much you actually care about him. Despite never really saying much to each other, you guess you’ve grown a sort of fondness for him that you didn’t realise you have. It’s only natural; you have known each other for close to a year now, and half of which was spent under the same roof. Of course you would worry for his well being, you tell yourself.

The kitchen fan must be blocking his hearing because he doesn’t sense your approach, he’s singing softly to himself. He’s got a lovely voice, both your roommates do. But whereas Jimin sings loudly and proudly, Jungkook only does so in the shower or when he doesn’t think anybody is listening.

When he notices you finally, you’re peering over his shoulder. He jumps. You jump. The chopsticks he’s using to stir the noodles fly out of his hands, clattering on the counter.

‘Oh jeez, you scared me.’ He picks up the chopsticks.

‘Sorry.’ You squeak and take a step back when you realise your proximity.

‘Haha…’ He chuckles nervously, embarrassed. ‘Noona, you like jajangmyeon, right?’

Do you like jajangmyeon? You live and breathe jajangmyeon. You can’t go a week without jajangmyeon. You’ve had it for breakfast, lunch and dinner before all in one day. Those noodles in that sauce… Mmm…

‘Yeah, they’re my favourite.’ Is all you say though, you figure he probably doesn’t care for a whole speech about your love for them. Surely he knows at this point, there isn’t a single day in this house where the ramen cupboard is devoid of jajangmyeon.

‘Great, I’m making you some.’

Oh. Jungkook is cooking for you. A warmth creeps into your cheeks, and you’re not sure why.

‘You don’t have to, Jungkook. Just cook for yourself, I’ll make myself dinner after you.’ But then your stomach chooses now to bellow aloud like a bullfrog traitorously. You look at him, abashed.

A smile is playing at his lips, though he’s trying not to show it.

‘Go sit down, noona. It’ll be ready in a second.’ His eyes are fixed on the bubbling water, chopsticks hauling up the softening noodles to check their texture. Though you’ve never tasted his cooking, you don’t doubt ramen mastery, so you nod compliantly.

The bags of shopping are half unpacked on the dining table, so you decide to finish sorting them out. He’s bought gimbap, bread, cheese, some salad, mostly food that doesn’t require cooking; you can tell he has thought ahead for the potential blackout.

Then something else in the bag catches your eye.

‘Dinner’s ready.’ Jungkook carries two bowls of brown noodles, garnished with sausage and cucumber, just the way you like it.

He sets the bowls opposite each other on the end of the table that’s not packed with groceries. This feels extremely weird and domestic. Although you live together, you don’t remember the last time you’ve had a meal together on this table, just the two of you without Jimin. Yet now, you’re about to eat jajangmyeon that he cooked for you, right across each other. Extremely weird.

‘Thank you so much for cooking, Jungkook.’ You bow your head at him politely and take a seat opposite him.

‘You’re welcome, noona.’ He also mirrors your action. You can kind of understand why it must be so annoying to Jimin how you’re so formal to each other, it must sound so forced and awkward.

Which is what this meal is going to be. Forced and Awkward.

Jungkook waits for you to take the first bite before digging, which you have to do so without rolling your eyes back and moaning out loud in satisfaction. Jajangmyeon tastes so flipping good! Your one and only true love.

You’re too focused on slurping down the noodles that you don’t notice him smiling fondly at the rare sight of you so blatantly excited.

The meal goes by quietly, neither of you are talkers to begin with, much less while eating. Whether it’s because it’s your favourite dish, or because it’s a freezing cold winter day, or even maybe because it’s Jungkook’s own cooking, the food tastes especially scrumptious.

‘This is delicious.’ Your eyes are practically glowing at him; he shys away from the praise by sipping on his can of coke. Who drinks coke in this weather? A smile stretches your lips at the oddity of this boy’s taste.

Jungkook mumbles a thanks, avoiding your eye as usual. But the jajangmyeon has put you in a good mood, you’re feeling rather chatty actually. ‘Also, Jungkook, I saw you bought-’ You dig into one of the grocery bags and pull out what you spotted earlier.

‘Oh yeah.’ Jungkook stares at the two-pack of fluffy socks in your hand, wearing a slightly mortified expression. ‘Um… I thought... you could do with some new ones.’

Surprised, your whole body tenses. You had thought he bought them for himself after seeing you wear yours so comfortably. All thought flaps away from your mind like a flock of frightened birds, leaving an empty field. He- Why- What do you-

‘Oh.’ Clearing your throat, you murmur. ‘Wow, thank you so much.’ Unable to look at him for any longer, your eyes fall onto your noodles. Your hand holding the socks drop onto the table at the weight of his kindness. Then a realisation creeps up on you. ‘Wait… They don’t sell these socks in supermarkets…’

Glancing up, you find him fiddling with his fingers nervously. ‘Uh. I went to another shop that does.’

Knots upon knots begin to tie in your stomach. So that’s why he took so long out there, not only did he have to find another supermarket that was open, he also searched for a store that sells fuzzy socks. For you.

Why do you feel so warm everywhere?

When you fall into a silent trance of your own thinking, Jungkook gets worried. ‘Noona, do you not like them? Did I get the wrong ones?’

‘No, no, no!’ You frantically dispute, forcing yourself to look at him. ‘These are perfect! I’m just surprised… and touched. That’s all. Jungkook, you really didn’t have to.’ The fabric of the socks feel heavenly to touch, your thumb sinks into the clouds of its softness. Truly, this has taken you by surprise and you don’t know how to react.

‘It’s okay…’ Redness blooms across his cheeks like drops of watercolour.

First he cooks you your favourite meal, then he buys you fuzzy socks? Is this the same Jungkook you’ve been living with all these months?

‘No, here…’ You rip open the card of the packet and snap the plastic wire that holds the four socks together. ‘Take a pair, I only need one anyway.’

At you waving the socks in front of him, he leans back in refusal, shaking his head and muttering a string of no no no’s. You’re not at all a strong-willed person by any means, but you’re not backing down on this, not when he’s been so lovely to you all night. When he realises that you won’t take no for an answer, he sighs, scratching the back of his ears. ‘Okay, okay. You can have the mint ones.’

One pair is mint and the other is pink. You blink. He wants the pink ones?

When he realises what must be going through your head, he quickly says, ‘Mint is your favourite colour right?’

Mint is your favourite colour. Though how does he know? All your possessions are in a variety of pastels: baby blue, cotton candy pink, mint green and lilac purple. He couldn’t have possibly guessed…?

‘Yes, it is… But I seriously don’t mind if you want the mint ones, I’m not gonna make you take the pink ones.’

‘No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.’ Jungkook snatches the pink fluffy socks from you before you can argue and stuff them onto his lap.

Your heart does a little thing that you can’t describe.

The two of you finish your dinner in silence, mirroring each other with one hand gripping the socks ever so tightly and the other hand picking up the noodles with your chopsticks. Awkwardly, Jungkook take a glimpse at you. A tiny smear of sauce stains the corner of your mouth.

Does he tell you? It would make it awkward though, wouldn’t it? But then again, it would be worse for you to find out yourself when you look in the mirror and think that he didn’t tell you you have sauce on your face.

‘Sauce.’ He accidentally says before he could finish formulating what he’s going to say to you. Shit. What’s wrong with him? Why did he say it like that? In response to your confused expression, he gestures dumbly at the corner of his own mouth.

Instantly a blush flames across the apples of your cheeks. You are about to wipe it away with your sleeve when you realise a second too late that you’re wearing a white sweater.

Your hand dangles a centimetre from your face, wrist caught in Jungkook’s fingers as he notices the mistake in your action before you. His whole body is leaned over the table in order to reach you. Wide eyes locked on each other, neither of you dare to move at his sudden outburst of motion towards you.

‘Um.’ He peeps. ‘Careful, I’ll do it, noona.’

Before you can register, he lets go of your arm allowing it to fall onto your lap. When his index knuckle brushes against the end of your mouth, a wave of shock zaps down your spine. Your heart lurches down an abyss at how soft his skin feels on your sensitive lips. Then his touch is gone, leaving a warmth tingling in his wake.

As he looks around for something to wipe his finger on, pupils round like a puppy, your eyes refuse to leave him. Thank you sits at the tip of your tongue but your throat is too clogged to utter a sound. The clockworks are trying to turn in your brain but all you can focus on is Jungkook.

How is he this nice, kind, gentle boy? And how have you completely missed this about him? In fact, why have you been so demure with him when he’s… an angel?

Watching his tongue poke at the inside of his cheek, a much scarier thought dawns on you.

Do you have a crush on Jungkook?

White screen glaring at you, the words of your unfinished essay frowns at your lack of attention in disapproval. You can’t write about Jane Austen’s exploration of feminism when Jungkook has overtaken your capacity to concentrate on anything other than him.

The radiator by your desk acts as your foot rest, blazing the pleasant heat up your legs. Ever few seconds, your eyes would wander to those mint green fuzzy socks you’re wearing, so brand new that its fluff caresses your toes like a flower bed. Just the thought that he went out of his way to replace your old hole-ridden pair…

Stop.

Jane Austen. Focus.

But the phantom touch of his finger sweeping across the plump of your bottom lip is etched on your skin, the picture of his doe eyes staring at your mouth refusing to leave your memory.

What has happened to you? How have you just swung from two extremes: from hardly able to speak a word to him without stuttering, to daydreaming about his kindness towards you?

The cold is making you delirious. It has to be this godforsaken cold, because why else would you all of a sudden be so flustered from the thought of Jungkook?

You take a long hard sip of your coffee, and mark it as a new leaf. From now on, no more thinking about anyone else other than Jane Austen. Pushing up your sleeves, you straighten your slouching back and face the monster of you assignment head on.

Not 5 minutes later, your desk lamp begins to flicker. You throw it a quick glance as your fingers type on your keyboard. Weird, you just changed the bulb a few weeks ago. Nevermind it.

Then all of a sudden, all the lights in your room go out. Frowning, you get up and try the switch several times to no avail. Peaking outside your room, all that greets you is a cold darkness. So you turn on the flashlight on your phone and try other light switches of the house. Nothing. Even the heat begins to seep away from the heaters as they dim to a cool. Oh no, right now?

Using your phone as a torch, you pad towards Jungkook’s room and open his door before you can remember to knock. Perhaps your anxiety has overridden your common sense and courtesy. Unfamiliar with the orientation of his room, you trail your side against the wall to guide you.

‘Jungkook? I think the power’s ou-’

Your phone shines onto a tall silhouette, illuminating a view that makes you shriek and stumble back.

There he is, standing with a white towel around his waist, beads of water splattered across his naked body and dripping rapidly out his wet slicked back hair. The swell of his biceps catch your attention first, lined with prominent veins running all the way down to his large hands placed on his hips. Which leads your gaze to the illustrious v of his hips that arch down to-

Without meaning to, your eyes travel down to this bulge. His hefty unmissable bulge. The towel protrudes out like a tiny hill, and you want to scream at it.

If you had a drink in your mouth right now, you would surely spit it out all over him and choke to your death. But you don’t, so all that comes out of you is a strangled cat noise. Looking away from that sinful area as quickly as you can, you arrive at his face - shocked, alarmed and confused. Your cheeks burning in the flames of hell, you spin away hastily to sprint out of his room in horror.

Except you run into the wall.

The impact hits your forehead and thankfully not your nose. Phone flung onto the ground with the light facing up, you fall onto you knees clutching at the eruption of pain. But nothing hurts more than your pride and image.

‘Noona!’ One hand securing the towel covering his manhood and preserving his dignity, he scrambles over to help you despite himself.

You flinch away at his hand on your shoulder because he is now right beside you. And it’s as if you’ve zoomed in too far on a picture because his nakedness is suddenly magnified 100x. You want to Ctrl Z yourself out of his room and back into your own desk. Because what. the. hell.

What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?

Transfixed on the ridges of this abdomen, you cannot focus on anything other than the way his muscles groove up and down so smoothly to form a six pack. Shadows casted by the flashlight sculpting more definition onto his marble chest. Goosebumps are raised on his blemishless skin, which you almost want to stroke away with your warmth.

‘I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.’ You chant cataleptically in a daze. It’s more for your own reassurance than his. His bare upper body needs to let you breathe.

‘Are you sure?’ His concern is apparent in his expression, eyes examining your entire face for your injury.

‘Yes, yes.’ Desperately wanting to shoo him away, you wince at the pulsing ache burgeoning in your forehead.

‘I’m sorry.’ You both say in unison, though neither of you understand why the other is apologising.

Though he seems abashed about being shirtless, his humiliation comes nowhere near your level. Why isn’t he scrambling to put a shirt on?

To be fair Jungkook does seem awfully self conscious, you’ve caught him looking down at himself for about the fifteenth time now as he helps you up to your feet.

‘I’ll let you get dressed, sorry.’ Is all you say after snatching your phone off the ground, not even bothering to check for a cracked screen, before making your timely escape. This time more successful than the last.

Clutching your throbbing head, you race to your room and catapult onto your bed. The picture of a wet, shirtless Jungkook with only a towel to shield you from his crotch is now ingrained in your mind. You think shutting your eyes will help but you still see his divine abs behind your lids.

Holy shit.

What perhaps scares you more is how attracted you are to him. Since when did you find your roommate hot? This is shy, quiet Jungkook who plays overwatch until 4am. How dare he have a Greek God’s body to confuse you like this?

You need to stop thinking about his naked body right now.

Instead you check outside your window to see that the streetlights are off as well; it must be a blackout across the whole town, if not city. Without heating, the cold air begins to harshly sting your exposed skin. Panic starts to fester in your chest. How long can you last with no electricity whatsoever? You don’t even have phone signal, or something to charge your phone with except the one portable charger that may or may not be dead right now.

Though your door is wide open, Jungkook knocks on it politely outside your room. Which is what you should’ve done with him, you mentally scold yourself. Though he is now dressed in an oversized hoodie, your image of him is forever changed after seeing him fresh out the shower, hair still dripping. You blink hard in attempt to rid that thought.

‘Hi…’ He whispers. He’s holding two burning candles against his chest, their flames lighting up the underside of his sharp jaw.

‘Hi, come in.’

You can sense his hesitancy, the unease in the air between you, when he enters your room gingerly, feet clad in those pink fuzzy socks.

‘Sorry-’ You both say at the same time again, then release a breath of laughter. Mirth twinkles in his eyes, though his shyness does not stray from him.

‘I’m sorry for barging into your room like that.’ It’s an effort not to glance down at his adorable socks. ‘That was completely my fault, so don’t apologise.’

He swallows. ‘It’s okay, noona.’

His eyes hold yours for a solid moment before dispersing. A familiar blush is starting to paint your cheeks, you feel the heat from your chest blare up to your entire face. Unable to help imagining those solid muscles underneath his clothes, you tug at the hem of your sweater.

‘So,’ Jungkook places one of the candles on your desk. ‘This is for you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Instead of using the flashlight of your phone, use the candle or one of the torches I’ve put on the table outside to save your battery. I’ve checked the main fuse, it isn’t switching back on. Good thing is that we still have running water and plumbing, just no heating or any electricity.’ He glances at your own socks. ‘We need to use the water sparingly though or the reservoir will run out. From the shops, I’ve bought some food that we can eat without cooking like gimbap or sandwiches. There’s also a stash of hand warmers in the drawer of the TV stand if you’re cold.’

That’s a lot of words to come out of Jungkook’s mouth in one go, all spoken to you. What he’s saying is sinking in and relief washes over you, yet you can’t help but focus your attention on the way his lips move as he speaks. The dark red gleaming with lip balm, curving over each syllable so prettily.

‘That’s great, thank you.’ You finally snap out of it. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’ That last sentence slips out of you before you could stop it.

Pupils widening a fraction, Jungkook’s lips part in reaction. Why did you tell him that? Maybe you should just lock yourself in your room after continuously embarrassing yourself tonight. But then he pulls into a smile that melts away the ice that’s numbing your limbs and burning your lungs. The front of his teeth slightly jutting out sweetly.

Again, a fondness tickles your chest.

‘Me too.’ The tingle spreads into a pulse that crushes your throat. Is that why they call it a crush?

You simply cannot suppress your own growing grin.

Jungkook begins to walk away, but then stops at your door and turns back. There’s a reluctance, an uncertainty to his slow movement as he faces you.

‘If… If you get too cold without the radiator… you can…’ His voice barely a husk. ‘You can come over to mine.’

Then he’s gone. The aura lit up by his candle gradually diminishes away from you as he walks down the hallway to his room.

Frozen in place, you’re not even sure if your heart is beating anymore. Those final words ring in your ear like wind chimes.

You can come over to mine.

Does he mean what you think he means? Is he offering to keep you warm during the night?

You watch the candle he’d placed on your desk, its flame mirroring the small fire kindling in your core for the boy who went out during a blizzard to buy you fuzzy socks so your feet don’t get cold.

On the other side of the wall, Jungkook is on the verge of combustion at his bold proposition to you, red burning the tips of his ears. Though the memory of the look of pure euphoria on your face when you took your first bite of jajangmyeon burns his heart hotter yet.

The cold is brutal and shows no mercy. Despite your tossing and turning and effort to warm yourself up, sleep does not grace you. Part of the blame goes to Jungkook, you have not been able to cease thinking about him and everything he has done tonight. It makes you reflect on all your past moments together, whether he has always been like this and you were only too closed off to pay heed.

Sitting up from your bed, you decide you won’t be able to fall asleep without extra warmth. You need hand warmers stuffed down your pyjamas.

So, muscles stiff from the cold, you clamber out the little warm burrow of your covers and head for the living room, forsaking any light since your vision has adapted to the dark. On your way there, you walk past Jungkook’s room. Without knowing why, your legs betray you and stop outside his door.

You can come over to mine.

The low rasp of his voice still echoes in your head, stirring your unwarranted feelings for him into a warm pot of honey.

Had he really meant it? Did he honestly invite you to his share his bed? Surely not - this is Jeon Jungkook you’re thinking of, he doesn’t even speak to you most days, can’t not cower away from your glare. And he also knows what you’re like, how it took you two whole months to even warm to all of Jimin’s friends, how you only recently stopped using honorifics with those older than you.

And surely he must be at least mildly aware of the lack of boys and romance in your life, living just down the hall from you. Jimin is the closest male friend you have, and even so, you aren’t completely comfortable with sleeping beside him.

But then… All that has transpired about Jungkook’s character tonight, how sweet and kind and thoughtful he is which completely falls outside your predictions of the boy…

You realise you want to know more, want to explore the depths and mysteries that is your strange roommate. This intangible force that has been building up in the mere hours you’ve spent together this cold winter’s night draws you to him.

So screw those hand warmers, they last way too short anyway. Who needs those fidgety packets when there’s a whole Jeon Jungkook next door?

Gathering all the courage you can muster, you knock on his door.

The wood sends tendrils of cold into your knuckles. There’s a pause at first which leaves you thinking that he’s asleep, and to be fair, this late at night he has every reason to be. You’re about to turn away and head forth down the hall when you hear sheets moving, followed by his muffled come in.

Timidly, you step into his room, mind still fresh with the memory of what had happened last time you entered here unannounced, mere hours ago. Let’s not think about that right now, shall we?

Jungkook is sat up in his bed, black hood engulfing half his head. A single scented candle lit on his bedside table beside him illuminates the whole room into a golden ochre hue, it smells of freshly washed sheets.

‘Hi…’ You peep out, stopping in front of his bed.

‘Everything ok, noona?’ His eyes are fixed on your face in wonder, but when you meet them, they dart to your socks.

‘Um, yes.’ How do you put this? How do you formulate those words? ‘I just… It’s absolutely freezing with the radiators not working. Maybe- D-’ You exhale shakily. He’s gaze slowly crawls back up to your face as he realises where you’re going with this. ‘You know how you suggested that we should… sleep tog- on the same bed… to keep each other warm…? Well...’

Jungkook blinks at you. For a heartbeat, all you want to do is curl up into a ball and roll out of here. You couldn’t even finish what you were saying because your jaw has simply refused to move, refused to let you carry on embarrass yourself.

Then, although he was already on one side of the bed, he scooches over to the left. He doesn’t look at you when he replies, ‘Of course.’

Your heart is pumping fast, almost making you choke on your constricting throat. Warily you clamber onto his bed, but stop when only your knee is on the mattress. The bed frame creaks. Jungkook is regarding you with an unreadable expression, nibbling on his bottom lip. ‘Wait, if this is weird, just tell me to go.’

‘N-No. It’s fine.’ Pulling the covers over his chest, he crosses his arms shyly. There’s a pink tint to his cheeks, though you could be mistaken due to the odd lighting. ‘I was struggling to fall asleep from the cold as well.’ He adds when you don’t seem convinced.

Both of you are making this a bigger deal than it actually is, you are fully aware. It honestly pains you how awkward you two are with each other; if this were Jimin, he’d be dragging you onto his bed by the waist, letting you flounder about in his arms like a cat trying to escape before smothering you with his affection. But this is Jungkook. Quiet, shy, awkward Jungkook. Jungkook who hasn’t spoken more than ten words a day to you before the events of tonight even though you live together. Jungkook who you’re slowly learning more and more about during this blizzard.

Plus, he was the one who offered to share his bed earlier in the first place. This is fine, just fine. Act normal.

Overly conscious of how he’s watching your every movement carefully, you slowly burrow into the comfort of his bed. Immediately you’re enveloped in his residual body heat under the duvet. Now you realise that he moved over to the other side of the bed, the cold side, so you can relish in the warmth that he’s been collecting under these covers.

Why is Jungkook so… considerate?

Again, the same fuzzy feeling as before tugs at your heartstrings. Suddenly you want to reach out to him, but instead, you tug at your sleeves.

You’re both staring at the blank ceiling as if it is some fascinating art piece, with enough space between you to fit a Jimin. The candle has casted long grey shadows across the room, occasionally flickering haphazardly.

Everything that is currently whizzing through your head is driving you insane. This is actually happening. You are sharing a bed with Jungkook, the guy who you can’t even look in the eye when speaking to, your roommate who has only ever tried to avoid you. This day is a jack-in-the-box of Jungkook-themed surprises. What’s going to be next?

‘Feeling warmer, noona?’ He breaks the silence first, and you can’t help but glance over at him. His side profile is mostly masked by his hood, yet you can still see his jaw clenching. You can only imagine how uneasy he is currently feeling.

‘Yes.’ It’s barely a whisper you manage, so you clear your throat. ‘Much better Jungkook, thank you.’

Another silence. Though this is an improvement from before, you still feel a chill in your bones; the cold is a resilient pest that aches your muscles and numbs your face.

‘Should I blow out the candle then?’ You ask.

‘Oh right, yeah.’

You huff at the small flame but it refuses to go out, and you kind of don’t want it to as it provides a strong beacon of heat as its smoke licks at your face. You huff again. Still, it only wavers. You’re so cold that you don’t even have the strength to take out a candle. Peaking over at Jungkook, his eyes are locked on you patiently.

‘I’ll do it.’ He leans across the bed over you, you feel his warmth radiate into your proximity as his should hovers over your face. His scent, a clean soft musk, swims up your nose; you never noticed how pleasant he smells. The veins on his neck are protruding as he strains to reach over. When he extinguishes the candle with a single harsh blow, embarrassment rains on you.

Darkness enshrouds you two. As he returns to his position, you notice that he’s closer to you than before, now only less than a foot away. The sound of his breathing provides a steady rhythm that soothes your wild thoughts.

Though your social skills are subpar by nature, Jungkook has a way of magnifying your awkwardness. Should you say something? Good night? Thank him again?

Then you realise, he’s shivering. Of course, his hair must still be wet from his unfinished shower that was cut short by the blackout. God, he must be freezing.

‘You’re cold.’ You state, though you mean it more as a question.

‘I’m fine.’ Hums his response, yet his inhale is shaky.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you know what you’re going to do next is completely out of character and will require more guts than you actually possess. Your hand gropes at the space between you until you find his hand. It’s ice cold. Jungkook jumps at the contact and you hear him turn his head towards you. You hope his sight hasn’t adjusted to the dark yet so he can’t see how abashed you are.

‘You’re not fine.’ His fingers are stiff when you interlock yours between his. Everything is screaming inside you. What are you doing? What the heck? If Jimin were here to see this his jaw would drop all the way down to hell.

Unable to suppress the urge either, you also turn to look at him. In the dark, you can barely make out the outline of his face, the shape of his glossy eyes reflecting the moonlight seeping in through the window. Slowly, his fingers curl up around your hand. Your heart flips.

Blood roaring in your ears, you inch towards him like a frightened deer until your sides are pressed against each other. Your faces must be a hand’s width apart, but the darkness fuels you with a brazenness that allows you to not cringe away. His whole body tenses in response.

‘Better?’ Voice so soft he strains to hear you.

Jungkook nods, eyes never leaving yours. ‘Better.’ His response rumbles into your ear and percolate into your mind, and only now are you aware of how close he is.

An amalgamation of unidentifiable emotions stir inside you. You feel your own warmth trickle towards him as his does with you, and slowly his presence plucks away the cold you are plagued with.

‘Good night, Jungkook.’

‘Good night, Y/N noona.’

Though it’s only briefest of movements, you feel his thumb stroke over yours once, twice, as your eyelids fall shut.

The next morning, you wake up first with your head fitted cosily on his heavily breathing chest, his arm draped across your shoulder, shielding you from the chilly morning air.

The power still isn’t back on.

It’s now nearing 24 hours since the blackout first hit.

You’ve wasted the day wandering about the house, unsure of what to do with yourself. Though you tell yourself it’s the withdrawal symptoms from the internet, it’s mostly due to the fact that you slept next to Jungkook last night.

The earlier half of the day was spent subtly avoiding him because what the hell are you supposed to say to him? Do you just carry on your usual selves around each other or are you, like, friends now? You caught yourself watching him sleep this morning, serene breaths in and out through his nose. There’s a tiny mole under his lips that you’ve never noticed before. You had poked it with your pinky before you could stop yourself. And thankfully he’s a heavy sleeper, he didn’t even stir.

With more effort than you thought would require, you pried yourself out of his arms, a cold breeze instantly welcoming you in an embrace as you left his bed.

Those scenes keep replaying in your head: him finding you out in the blizzard, watching him cook you jajangmyeon, discovering that he when out of his way to buy you new sock, then walking in on him almost stark naked from the shower, and finally, falling asleep enveloped in his warm and scent.

You’re definitely crushing on him.

You’ve stopped denying it when you saw him meander wearily out his room at noon, bed head ruffled, eyes still droopy from sleep. Wordlessly, you had passed him the ham and cheese sandwich you prepared for yourself and you don’t even know why because you were absolutely starving.

The downpour of snow only stopped for a good 10 minutes this afternoon, a tiny window in which you poked your head out for some fresh air. Jungkook had tried to shovel away some snow to clear the porch, but quickly ran back inside when he saw your worried face plastered to the window watching him.

There isn’t much either of you can do with no electricity, no internet, no television, trapped indoors. So you occupy your day curled up on the couch, nose buried in a novel, completely immersed in that beautifully crafted fictional world.

Until Jungkook walks out in a white t-shirt and shorts.

Your eyebrow raises, peeking at him from behind the pages.

‘I’m gonna work out here, if you don’t mind. There isn’t enough space in my room.’ He scratches the back of his head.

‘Sure.’ You exhale, knowing your demise is looming over your head like a storm cloud. A lot of self control is exercised in order to not ogle at his calves.

Training your eyes at the novel in front of you with great determination, you turn the page. The first minute is easy enough, you just have to angle your book to block your view of him. But then his breathing grows heavier, panting every rep. At that, you can’t help but glimpse past the corner of your page.

Oh Lord. He’s doing push ups.

Though his biceps are mostly covered by his sleeves, the muscles of his forearms tensing at every contraction catch you eye. You marvel at the way his tendons flex out, and the way his serpentine of veins snake down his hands.

Jeez.

Then he lets out an unholy grunt, setting your whole skin on aflame. Scarlet stains your cheeks, you’re sure of it. But the sinful sounds do not stop. Sweat his now seeping through his shirt, rendering the material transparent down his back. And his ass…

You snap your focus back to your novel.

Just in time as well because he stops onto his knees, head falling back as he sits on his ankles, panting. His neck is shimmering with his perspiration, droplets trickling down like a brook.

Jungkook glances over at you to see you reading intently, jaw clenched from what he guesses is due to the excitement of the plot.

But then you stand up so abruptly that it startles him. You can’t sit here and spy on his workout any longer, you physically cannot take it. Not to mention, it makes you feel so awful, like you’re perving on the poor clueless boy who only wants to break a sweat.

The both of you just stare at each other, flustered for different reasons. His breathing slows.

‘I’m gonna-’ You don’t know where you’re going with the sentence. Gulp. ‘Uh, see you later.’

Scampering away into your room, you don’t wait for his response. Why are you panting heavier than he is when he’s the one exercising? Your book is pressed tightly against your pounding chest as you lean your back on your door. Your legs give way and you slowly slide down onto the cool floor.

There’s one thing you know for sure.

Jeon Jungkook is not good for your heart.

It’s almost midnight and Jungkook is standing outside your door. Fist clenched, inches away from rapping on the wood, but completely frozen in action.

Just do it, idiot. He scolds himself.

After an ice cold post-workout shower, this time early enough so he doesn’t have to sleep with wet hair, you both had gimbap for dinner. It was an excruciatingly silent meal which he blames himself for, though he can’t help the way his tongue gets tied every time he wishes to speak to you.

And now, bed time, he is at a dilemma of whether or not to ask to sleep with you again. It may come across as too forward coming from a guy, he doesn’t want to scare you. But he also knows that he will be missing the warmth of your body beside him if he goes to bed alone.

Jungkook sighs and lets his hanging hand fall to his side.

If you wanted to, you would have gone to his room anyway. Might as well save the awkward rejection and just take this as a no.

However, your door suddenly swings open. He’s confronted with a pyjama-wearing, baby-faced you, flinching back a step at the surprising sight of him.

‘Op- I was just....’ His sentence falls flat. He was just what?

‘I was just coming to find you.’ You mutter, eyes softening if he isn’t mistaken. A flood of relief rushes at him, so you were planning on coming to him tonight.

Wordlessly, you pad after him to his room. Everything is dark but you see his figure clearly in front of you. It gives you a false sense of confidence which leads you to trip over his charger wire you so clumsily missed.

You don’t know how he reacts so quickly to your yelp of distress, but he turns around in time to catch your outstretched arms by the elbows. ‘Watch out.’ Feet fumbling over each other, he stumbles back onto his bed as you fall onto him. The weight of your bodies sink down onto the mattress.

Hard muscle cushions your fall. Chests pressed against each other, you don’t realise your hands have instinctively circled around his shoulders for balance. Your nose is touching his fabric of his collar, his musk instantly overriding your senses. When you look up, his eyes are a crystal clear pool somehow reflecting the constellations of the night sky in this darkness. His breath caresses your forehead. Your gaze drops to his mouth, pink and parted.

You want to kiss him, you realise. So badly. Every fibre of your being is currently yearning to meet his lips, longing to know whether he tastes better than he smells.

But then your limbs are moving for you, propping yourself up and off him. Your own mouth forms and quiet ‘sorry’ as you shuffle under the sheets. It’s as if you’re watching your own actions through your eyes, controlled by your logic rather than desire. You couldn’t let yourself kiss him.

Jungkook silently squirms into his bed beside you, unwilling to look your direction as much as you’re averse to his.

So this is how it’s going to be again. Two sleeping logs next to each other.

There’s an ache of regret in your heart for being so timid. Annoyance at yourself drips down your throat, fist clenching at the sheets. You should’ve kissed him right then and there, consequences be damned. When will you get another chance? But perhaps it was fate. You have no idea how he would’ve reacted; the pessimist in you thinks he would’ve been disgusted. Yes, it was fate. It was right not to have kissed him.

Wait, no. A boldness suddenly pours down on you. Shyness and introversion has gotten you nowhere before, and it will not help your situation now.

‘Jungkook.’ Your voice comes out crisp and clear.

‘Hm, Noona?’

‘I’m still cold.’ Turning to face him, you see innocent confusion settle in his expression. The sound of your thumping pulse has reached your ears, your heart is a speeding motor flying off to find him. ‘Come closer.’

The shadow of his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. His focus does not stray from you as he slides across the bed hesitantly.

‘Closer.’

He edges further towards you. You can now just about make out the shape of the scar that flecks his left cheek.

‘Closer.’

This time, his exhale tickles your neck. Warm bodies touching, confusion and perturbation cloud his glassy orbs as he scans your face for an answer to the plethora of questions swimming in his head.

‘Thank you.’ You breathe, though it feels like no air is entering you. You can’t believe what you’re doing. This close to him, you’re entire being bathes in his presence, his aura; a familiar tingling ails your soul as your eyes flicker to his lips.

Every single muscle in Jungkook is frozen in shock, unsure of what is going on and why the sudden change in your demeanour towards him. And when you turn onto your side away from him and inch by inch back your body onto his front, his heart

stops

beating.

Nose buried in your floral-scented hair, vacillating thoughts tell him to put his arm around your waist and hold you close to him. You sense his unsureness in the way his hand rests on your side and pauses for too long before pulling you into his chest.

His frame engulf yours, the curve of your back lining perfectly with his. You feel safe, protected. His furnace touch on your waist burns through the thick fabric of your jumper and seeps into your core. The effect he has on you is nothing you’ve ever experienced before, and neither have you ever been in this position with anyone. Although it isn’t much, merely just cuddling, this feels so remarkably intimate and intense, like you’ve finally stepped through a threshold built into the emotional wall that towers between you and him.

You’re not entirely sure if you’re breathing.

Despite being the one to instigate this, you’re awfully apprehensive, not daring to even twitch incase it rattles him and sets him scrambling away. The two of you are like a pair of squirrels, slowly approaching to sniff each other, curious yet easily frightened.

His hot breath rushes down your spine like smoke. You desperately want to know what he’s thinking. Is he as nervous as you? Do you feel comfortable to him as he does to you? Or is he already falling asleep?

You should close your eyes and try to. Though who are you kidding? You’d never manage to catch a wink when you’re an accidental turn of a face away from kissing him, at least not right away anyway, not until you calm yourself down with a mental meditation exercise or something.

The urge to check if he’s indeed asleep is yanking at you, but you use all your willpower to resist, not wanting to risk rousing him when he’s as skittish as you.

But then you feel it.

Him.

It’s subtle at first, just a gentle pressure at your bottom.

Innocent and untainted as you are, you don’t even realise what it is at first, so you shift your hips unconsciously.

Then it’s stiffness grows, and grows, until it’s a baton poking at your rear.

Something in your core ignites, your chest constricts, and a wildfire of lust you’ve never felt before smoulders from your scalp to your toes before finally rooting itself in your sex. Ten hells, Jungkook’s boner is touching your ass. Jungkook has a boner and it’s touching your ass. Jungkook has a boner because of you and it’s touching your ass.

Your brain is devoid of all senses except a formidable hunger for him. Suddenly, though he’s almost surrounding you completely, the only thing you can feel is his hard member prodding you.

Is he asleep or not, you need to know.

Then a strange force possesses your lower half, and like a puppet on a string, your ass sinks back further onto him until his length is tunnelled between your cheeks.

The softest moan escapes him, almost a gasp even.

You think he’s going to say something, move away or stand up and leave. Instead he pulls himself away and slowly thrusts forward again. His clothed length slides smoothly up your crack, brushing ever so slightly over your slit. It sends a wave of arousal convulsing up your core, so powerful you almost choke.

Continuing to encourage him, your hips move in tandem with his, rubbing your ass all over his pulsing erection, occasionally letting it slide between your thighs against your clit. A pleasured mewl escapes, though you’re not sure who from. You’ve never felt anything like this, the ruin that overtakes your core at the friction. This is a divine sensation, luxury of the gods.

Jungkook’s fingers dig into your waist as his pace increases, his breathing slowly shifting into wavering panting. Finally you succumb to the urge to twist around to look at him. Your heart erupts at the pure devastation contorting his face. His brows angled in pleasure, teeth clamped down on his lip to suppress those unholy noises, lids hanging heavy at the weight of his thirst for you. When his eyes lock on yours, something unleashes in him and devours you wholly.

Fire and ice. His lips feel like both fire and ice. Fire because your entire mind is burning at his smoothness, fuelled by your unkempt want for him to take over you. Ice because everything that isn’t him feels numb and insignificant, and your feelings for this man holding you is the purest flake of snow.

Your first kiss, and it’s already the best kiss you’ll ever have, you’re sure. Because the way his lips meld onto your, the desperation in the way he leans so far into you, the heat of his arousal forging it’s mark between your legs. Nothing in this world can top that.

‘Noona.’ He sighs into you. It drives you absolutely insane.

Fingers grappling in his wavy locks, you reposition yourself completely to face him. His length twitches against you as your leg swings behind him to pull him closer. He is holding your neck with a heartbreaking delicacy, thumb stroking your jaw like it’s the most fragile of chinas.

‘Jung-’ You whimper. ‘Koo…’

Tasting of mint, his tongue gently laps at yours when you open for him. You’re drowning in his essence, lungs filling with his air, though you welcome your sweet painless death like it’s a heavenly gift.

Knowing his docile nature, you move his hand underneath your top, giving him permission to roam freely on your skin. He snakes around your back and circles around your front before finally meeting your sore breasts. As he kneads them tenderly, you feel a warmth ooze out of you into a puddle of concupiscence in your pants.

Oh God.

Your own hands wander beneath his hoodie, raking up the bumps of his god-sculpted abdomen and taking hold of his muscular chest. His wet kisses are a drug, and you’re completely and utterly under its control.

‘Jungkook, I want you.’ You moan.

When his eyes fly open, you’re met with pools of desire, seething into you like jets of lust. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d experience him like this, covetous for you and withering under your touch.

‘Noona… Fuck.’ He trembles as your hand travels down his navel, daring to slide under the band of his sweatpants. ‘I want you so bad, noona.’

The whimper that leaves his mouth when you palm him through his boxers sends a flood of yearning down to your core.

Holy shit.

He feels…

Massive.

Heavy with girth, only about half of his length fits in your palm. You have to stretch your fingers in order to fully encompass him. He is fully at your disposal, groaning, grip tightening on you.

As he huffs into the edge of your jaw, his own hand comes down to find your pussy pulsing for his touch. When his touches your clothed slit, a compulsion forces your hips to buckle forwards. And when he begins to rub circles right on that tender spot, waves upon waves of ecstasy hit you.

Whining like an animal, your head falls back at the newfound pleasure he’s showing you. With you neck presented so openly to him like a platter of dessert, he plants dulcet kisses onto you, his gentleness kindling your fire for him. Despite your attempt to wind your focus back to him, your grip on his erection slackens at his vibrations on your cunt.

‘Can I?’ Jungkook whispers into your ear, softness tickling your lobe. You don’t waste a second before nodding eagerly.

Then his fingers slide underneath your panties. Sensitivity explodes at the contact between the pad of his thumb and your clit. A string of moans release from you. His fingers stroke tactfully up your slick, lubricated by your wetness for him. And when he slides his digit into you, the thread that holds your soul to sanity snaps.

‘Oh my god.’ He pushes through the sleek pressure of your walls. ‘Jungkook.’ The whimper of his name rolling off your tongue sends a rush of blood down to his aching cock.

‘Noona, is that okay?’ The genuity in his voice squeezes your heart.

‘Yes, it feels so, argh, good.’

He latches his lips onto your neck and sucks clouds of lavender to your smooth seamless sky. His finger is slowly pumping in and out. It is a foreign feeling, so strange and unfamiliar, yet all the more exciting. The rise of his knuckles hit your wall at eye-rolling angles. Your hips roll in his rhythm to help him reach newer depths. The pleasure is unforgiving, relentless.

Another feeling gnaws at your chest, a longing to please him.

‘I want to make you feel good, Jungkook.’ You mumble, shy.

He looks up at you, finger gradually ceasing its movement. The pure passion alit in his eyes drives you thrumming for him.

‘O-Okay.’

‘You… You have to teach me though.’ Redness flushes your cheeks.

‘Okay.’ He says again, and you wonder if you’ve broken him at the way he’s frozen.

Sheepishly tugging down his pants, you inch yourself down and settle between his legs, the duvet rested upon your shoulders. He bobs free from the restraint of his apparel.

Your eyes bulge at his cock that is, despite the darkness, standing tall and proud, beaming at you. How is that monster going to fit inside you?

A strong vein runs down the course of his length. Angry red tip swollen and trickling with a clear liquid. You look up to find him staring helplessly down at you, gulping. A nervous fear is eating away at your throat; you’ve never done this before, how are you supposed to know how right now?

‘Teach me.’ Your fingers come around the base of his shaft and he gasps audibly.

‘Uh-’ Another gulp. ‘Lick the tip.’

You lick the tip. Drawing your tongue over his engorged head, tasting his salty precum that continues to leak out of him profusely. He curses.

‘Like that?’ Your mouth doesn’t leave him as you say.

‘Mhmm.’ He runs his hand through his dark locks in exasperation. ‘Suck on it gently.’

You suck on it gently. Lips wrapped around his tip like a vacuum while you breath him in. Your cheeks hollow. You look up at him for approval. One eye is clamped shut, the other is barely held open to witness the most seraphic scene.

‘Fuck, noona, like this.’

You try to take in more, letting his wide cock slide into your mouth, careful not to scrape your teeth against his hilt. When he hits the back of your throat, you gag and splutter around him. Embarrassment shoots at you, yet when you glance up, he doesn’t seem to care.

Instead, he brushes your hair behind your ear and coos, ‘Careful, noona.’ He’s so sweet, so dear, you feel a crack in your heart.

So you try again, this time slower, swallowing as much of him as you can. Your hand swirl around his shaft while his massages the back of your scalp. You roll your tongue around his head every time you come up, flickering at his slit. Soon, your pace increases along with your confidence. Jungkook is a mess under you, thighs quivering, toes curling. Humming in satisfaction, your vibrations resonate into his dick and he yelps.

‘Noona, stop before I cum.’ The way he pleads sends your cunt throbbing. You pull his member out of your mouth almost obscenely, inhaling sharply for air.

He gently places you on your back, finger tracing your drenched lips in endearment. ‘Was that ok?’

‘That was perfect, noona. Are you sure that was your first time?’ Doe eyes wide in awe of you. You giggle and nod, glowing in timid pride. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

At that, the reality of this situation hits you. This is happening, this is actually happening. You’re going to have sex for the first time. With Jungkook.

Are you sure you want to do this?

You are sure you want to do this. If not with him, then no one else.

‘Yes.’ You state firmly, eyes never once wavering from his.

His gaze on you is so soft, yet so intense, you want to melt under him. ‘Okay. I- I need to go find a condom in Jimin’s room.’

Fuzzy with your feelings for him, you watch him scramble off in the dark to the other room. Loud clangs echo down the hall, you can’t help but smile at the thought of him digging through Jimin’s pig sty, frantically searching with his rock hard cock.

Jungkook returns moments later to the sight of you completely naked on his bed. Gaping like a little boy, he almost falls onto you as he climbs onto the bed while he tears off his own top. For a minute, you two just stare at each other’s bodies, allowing the beauty to sink in and etch itself forever in your souls.

‘Noona, you’re so beautiful. Do you know that?’ He leans over to kiss all over your face.

A warm prickle sieges your heart. No one has ever called you beautiful before. Emotion floods you like an ocean, and you’re suddenly met with a familiar sting behind your eyes.

He hovers over your lips, nose rubbing on yours so lovingly you want to cry. You’re at a loss for words, so you just nod, not daring to peep a sound lest a tear escapes from you.

His hands are shaking as he rolls on the condom. Prudently, he kisses up your inner thighs before spreading them open with care. Finally, he pecks the top of your flower fondly.

Then slowly he rests his elbow beside your head and situate himself between your legs. Both your breaths are wobbly, you search his face for security and find it. His irises reflect his galaxy - you. And your fear ebbs away.

Stroking his tip along your wetness, he kisses the shell of your ear. ‘Are you really really sure?’

‘Yes, Jungkook.’ Your fingers entangle in his hair assuringly.

‘Tell me to stop if it hurts a lot. Promise, noona?’ His concern is heart wrenching.

‘Promise.’ You whisper, other hand locking with his.

Only then does he begin to ease into you. At first you don’t feel much, just his tip diving into you. Then the rest of his length pushes in, plunging through a tremendous pressure built into your walls. Pain blooms inside you as he enters deeper and deeper, it’s an ache that you anticipated but never imagined. You both cry out, though for different reasons.

‘Are you okay?’ You can tell he’s struggling to stay still, shoulders tensing at the temptation to thrust again.

‘Mhmm.’ You manage to gripe. Because despite the blinding pain, you are okay.

‘I’m gonna go as slow as I can.’ He ensures you, fingers tightening around yours.

When he plunges into you again, you expect the hurt to lessen, but it doesn’t. It overwhelms your whole body, yanking inside you. Though, every time he kisses your lips so tenderly, your forget the soreness he’s impaling into you for a fresh second. Opening your eyes, you see him panting at your tightness, trying with every muscle in his body not to go wild at you.

‘Fuck, noona.’ He exhales, forehead rested on yours.

Seeing him so berserk with pleasure calms your running anxiety. His thrusts inevitably quickens, and you just about begin to see pass the pain. Behind the ache, there’s a gratifying sting clenching your walls. The slap of his hips against your thighs ring loud.

‘Still okay?’ Jungkook asks again, worry painting his face at your silence.

‘Yes, you can go faster.’ You answer despite the ever-present soreness. When he drives hard into you, stars and tears blurring your vision.

Something in him snaps as you feel him twitch inside you. His movements grow sloppy and feral, just like the grunts that he heaves. Chasing his climax, you can tell how close he is to his sweet release.

‘Oh- Noona, I’m so cl-ose.’ He’s whimpering into your neck.

‘Jungkook, baby. Come for me.’

At your name for him, he goes crazy, ramming into you with a strength and stamina that you couldn’t expect less of from him. ‘Noona…’ He begs. The pressure inside you is easing, pain dulling, though you know you won’t feel any pleasure this time round.

Then, in one last powerful push, he ejects into you with a loud cry. You pull his lips to yours immediately to soothe his euphoria. This look of pure pleasure on his face rips you to shred as he refuses to let go of your hand. His hips jerk into yours to ride out is high as his whole body deflates onto you.

Although it’s a freezing night, goosebump plaguing both your skins, neither of you feel cold. Instead, you are enshrouded by the warmth of your passion and desire, all you feel is each other.

You, wrapped tightly around him, and him, spasming inside you.

Heavy with exhaustion, he nuzzles up to kiss you. Long, slow and hard. You have never truly appreciated his beauty until this point, under the subtle snow-clouded moon, eyes boring into you with a never-dimming glow of adoration.

Jungkook removes himself from you, hastily disposing the condom to not miss a moment by your side. Dressing you first so you don’t catch a breeze of cold, his touch feels so much warmer, gentler.

Snuggled up under the covers, he holds you so close to him that you hear his beating heart. For a timeless passage, you stare into each other wordlessly, fingers tracing delicately over every patch of skin.

‘Y/N...’ He muses out loud. ‘Y/N… You don’t know how perfect you are…’

Again, he has rendered you speechless.

Caressing your cheek in his palm, he continues. ‘I wish you could see yourself through my eyes because then you would understand why I’m so completely in love with you.’

At his words, your throat constrict. ‘What?’ You choke out.

‘I’m in love with you, noona.’ His lips are trembling, chest pounding against you. Disquietude emanates from how he’s peering at you.

‘Oh.’

‘I don’t know how you never knew, I mean- I guess it’s pretty obvious from the way I act around you. Even Yoongi-hyung spotted it right away…’ He begins to ramble, focus hopping to the collar of your jumper that he’s toying with. ‘I just… I don’t know. There’s something so special about you that I can’t find in anyone else. I thought it was just a crush but... but then you moved in with us and… And my feelings for you just drove me insane. That’s why I kept trying to avoid you. I know I wouldn’t be able to hide it if I actually spent time with you, I’m kinda stupid when it comes to girls if you can’t tell already.

‘But the truth is,’ he takes a deep breath and sighs, ‘I am truly, deeply, madly in love with you, Y/N noona. Everything about you. The way you devour jajangmyeon as easily as breathing. The way you never go a day in winter without wearing these fuzzy socks. The way you only drink lattes and chamomile tea. The way you would rather spend your friday nights curled up with a book. The way you pretend to find Jimin annoying but secretly love the attention he gives you. The way you rushed out to find me in the snow and forgot the bring your keys. And the way you can’t talk to me without stuttering just like how I can’t look you in the eye when we have a conversation.

‘I know this is a lot to spring onto you, and I don’t expect you to love me back at all. But just know that I’m here for you whenever you need. I’m your furnace in a snowstorm, hand warmer in a blizzard. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same for me, I’ll still be here.’

Jungkook finishes with a final huff.

You stare at him, dumbfounded by his confession. Emotion floods your veins at the revelation, and you can all but break down into sobs. Jaw gaping, you regard him from his arms, trying to piece together your scattered thoughts.

‘Noona, say someth-’

You kiss him, urgently and desperately. Like you’ve been drowning in a sea of lostness, aimlessly floating about to try to find your way, and he’s your first gulp of air. Mist of perplexity is finally starting to clear away, and you see the path ahead of you with crystal lucidity.

It’s Jungkook. Jungkook, who knows your favourite colour when even your own mother doesn’t. Jungkook, who waddled out into the freezing snow to buy you new socks. Jungkook, who so gently and delicately made love to you tonight. Jungkook, who has loved you unconditionally and will continue doing so regardless of your feelings towards him.

‘I think… I think I’m falling truly, deeply, madly in love with you too, Jungkook.’

End

extras: christmas special

@shookpreme @hazelelizabeth99 @teenage-hippie @bunbundesu @tangledsparkles @gingerpeachtae idk who wanted to be tagged lol 😬

02/09/2019

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takeiteasypeasybaby · 4 years

Text

Save Me: Chapter 20 - I Loved You

~Hey Guys! Chapter 20 is out now ❤️ Molly breaks from Negan’s hold in the only way she can...I hope everyone enjoys and love you all ✌🏻💞 Chapter 21 will be out on Sunday~

Molly felt weakened, but not broken. Never broken. She had to avenge her family, even if that meant destroying the man she loved.

Dwight and Sherry were in place, turns out that they were my real saviours. All that was left was for me to do what I had to.

My eyes glistened with past tears, they were almost glass-like like a doll's. That's how I felt now, like I'd been played with and used.

Treated by the one person I loved more than life itself like an emotionless puppet.

I was filled with hatred now, for me and him.

I had my gun ready, now out of its holster. Keeping the other gun I took from the armoury, hidden.

Just in case, I thought.

Walking from the armoury to his room felt like a lifetime, everything became blurred and all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing.

I knew that he would be in a meeting, it was all part of my plan.

I walked through the threshold, into his room. His scent lingered on every possession, even me.

The room used to feel light and airy, now it suffocated me. The stifling heat from the closed windows, encircled me, like I was standing too close to the sun.

I didn't know it back then, but thats how it always was with him, too close, much too close.

I had everything laid out, I just wanted to get through it and leave that god forsaken place.

All I wanted was to erase him from my memory, to pretend like it was all a bad dream, but one that I never wanted to end.

The photos, I kept with me, like a reminder of my mistakes.

I took them out of my pocket and sprawled them across his bed, forcing him to take a look.

To take a look at everything he had taken from me, from my family and everything that he had now lost.

I didn't shake now.

My hands were steady, my tears were dried, like salt crystals on my skin.

I was empty, like a hard shell and yet he still hadn't broken me like he wanted when I first arrived.

That gave me power.

I held my gun in my hands, I didn't want to surprise him or entrap him, I wanted him to see when he walked through that door so he knew in that moment.

I waited for two hours, until he came.

I knew it was him, I could feel his closeness, his tie to me.

Every footstep made my heart pound faster and harder until it stopped.

The door glided open and he saw me.

I stood there in front of him, by the bed and just next to the photos.

I looked at him like I never had before, the truth was that I'd never felt what he'd made me feel before.

It was indescribable. No scowl, no anger, no tears. Nothingness, that's what I felt.

But how can you describe what nothing feels like?

He looked straight at me, first surprised, then seeing my gun he knew. He didn't beg for his life, he was ready.

'Molly...' he said calmly and stepped towards me.

'Don't come any closer, I don't want you near me, ever again. After today, I want you to know that this was the moment that you lost everything. I don't want to talk about it, what you did. We both know what you did. I loved you and you used me. But you see, now I'm glad because I now know who you are, who you really are...' I replied calmly.

Sorrow twinged in my voice, but I threw it straight back.

I couldn't let him hurt me anymore. He looked at me with a exhausted sadness in his eyes, which lifted at every word I spoke, like the weight of carrying around such a burden was finally lifted and he was free.

But I never would be.

He stood still, Lucille dropping to the floor.

His gaze drifted to the bed as he saw the pile of photographs. No emotion, no regret just pure numbness.

How cold he was now.

He nodded slowly, and looking down he said wearily 'I love you'.

It pierced through my heart like it never did before.

Those three words were now tainted with bitterness, like he was mocking me.

I cocked my gun and aimed it at his heart, how fitting this would be.

This would be the end of him, after today, Negan would be dead. But not the man.

I released the trigger as I shifted my aim to his stomach, missing all of the vital organs.

He dropped to his knees instantaneously, clutching at his pulsating wound. He looked up at me, half in disbelief, half in pride.

People would have heard the gunshot and would be making their way to the corridor now.

I made my way to the door and glanced back at him, he looked at me and through strained breathing said 'go'.

He had always promised to let me go and now he had.

My eyes started to flood once again as my gaze left him for the last time.

I ran down the corridor and took the steps down to the basement where Sherry and Dwight would be waiting.

The ex-wives were instructed by Sherry to hold off the Saviours until I was gone.

I heard yelling and fast footsteps behind me, a Saviour was gaining on me. I had no choice.

I kept running and spun around and shot him in the head.

He dropped immediately, lifeless onto the hallway floor where I had once been before.

I hesitated for a second before I kept running and rapidly descended the stairs.

There I saw Sherry and Dwight, the basement door was wide open and a motorcycle was ready.

'Hurry!' Dwight shouted as I ran towards them.

Sherry handed me my helmet and Dwight positioned the bike.

Nodding to them both, I hopped on the bike, keeping my gun in my hand.

I revved the engine, 'thank you' I shouted, they nodded with a slight smile.

'Go!' Sherry said nervously.

I nodded in return and made my way to the gates. They were locked. Fuck.

I heard a group of Saviours rush out onto the courtyard, their guns aiming at me.

I heard shots fly all around me, I ducked and dodged some until I got hit.

A rush of pain soared to my left thigh and blood started to ooze from my jeans.

I winced and sped up, aiming my gun at the padlock I shot at it a couple times until it flew wide open.

I zigzagged through the courtyard until I connected with the gates which flung open once they hit against the bike.

I was free.

I had no clue where I was going, I just knew that I needed to keep driving.

My leg throbbed as I drove, I kept pressure on it which seemed to work for a while but I knew that it would need to be wrapped up soon.

I was battered and bruised leaving that place, every bone in my body should have ached.

But I felt nothing, nothing except the sharp awakening pain of leaving him...

Hilltop - Tara's POV//

Rick and Michonne had argued for weeks, but she had taught him that Negan would never stop.

Rick was scared of losing anyone else but seeing Michonne and Carl gave him the energy to fight, one last time.

They walked towards the gates to see Maggie on guard at the top, I saw her smile in relief as she saw them enter.

We were reunited.

Rick pulled Maggie in for a hug and asked about the baby. Maggie was full of hope and fight.

It was at that moment that Rick knew that there was only one way through.

Rosita, Sasha and I welcomed them into Hilltop and told Rick that Daryl had made it home.

His eyes lit up to reveal Daryl at the gates.

Daryl eyes were filled with sorrow as he pulled Rick into a hug as I hugged Michonne.

Daryl handed Rick his gun which he had taken back from the Sanctuary.

We were ready.

Rick moved over to me, 'Have you heard anything about Molly?' he asked worriedly.

I just shook my head wearily.

'We haven't heard anything from Dwight' I said softly.

Rick stroked my arm in comfort.

'She'll be okay, we all know how strong she is' he said reassuringly, my eyes lit up slightly in belief.

Everyone was smiling and talking and Sasha knew that this would be her moment.

We didn't know it at the time but Sasha had told Maggie she would be back in a minute, but instead escaped down the log hatch.

She wanted to kill Negan herself.

Sasha's POV//

I had to do this. Everyone wanted to fight, but I could end this sooner.

They were planning on going to Alexandria to fight the Saviours when they came so I had to leave before they left.

I walked for miles until I found it.

Rosita had drawn me a map months ago, I pretended I was just curious but it had been my plan for a while.

The wired fencing, people walking around the courtyard, the decaying building. This certainly looked like the place for such a man.

I scowled as I looked through my binoculars. I was far enough away so that they couldn't see me.

I focussed on a figure who seemed to be ordering people around.

On closer inspection, I saw Eugene. I audibly gasped, he was fine and completely unharmed.

Thriving, actually.

I packed a sniper rifle in my backpack, because I didn't plan on getting too close. I waited, for hours.

The sun was setting now. Eugene had come and gone all day, but now Negan stepped outside.

I readied my rifle, I tried to get a clear shot but Eugene covered him. I couldn't hit him without hitting Eugene.

Goddamn it.

Negan moved strangely, like he was uncomfortable, perhaps even wounded. Still, he bowed heads with Eugene and smiled. Was he working for them?! Bastard. I had to get closer.

I moved towards the gates once the sun had set. People were starting to go inside so there was less chance of me getting caught.

Of course, saviours would be on duty through the night but I would stick out less.

I snuck round to the side gate where the cars were so that they would block me. I used my pliers and cut a hole in the fence.

At this I heard the side door open and a shadowed figure stepped out. I ducked behind the car and waited. It was Eugene. I sighed in relief and stepped out to see him.

'Eugene! It's me. Come with me, I can get you out of here' I whispered pleadingly, he just looked at me with panic in his eyes.

'I must decline. I am Negan. I must ask you to leave these premises with immediate effect' he said looking around anxiously.

I looked at him with scepticism, 'what?!' I whispered.

'Your mission has failed' he said as he walked back inside.

'Eugene!' I shouted after him. He didn't look at me. I sighed in frustration.

So, I peeled open the fence and ran in after him.

#negan x original female character #twd negan #negan #negan imagine #twd #twd fanfiction #negan fanfiction #slowburn #thewalkingdead #jdm #jeffreydeanmorgan #smutwarning #tara chambler #sasha williams #twd daryl #twdromance

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mithranqueersmusings · 4 years

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Baby, You’re A Rich Man XVIII

Chapter: 18/28

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo had experienced nerves like no other when Paul had announced that their boss had wanted to see him. He'd managed to overcome his anxiety about the whole kidnapping and witnessing murder somewhat while relaxing in the bath with George, but before his hair even had time to dry he had another obstacle to overcome.

"But what does he want with me?" Ringo asked, sitting on the sofa in one of George's bathrobes and a towel in hand.

"He didn't really say, but he probably just wants to ask you a few questions about the whole thing." Paul made it sound like it was no big deal.

"There's no need to be nervous, love, we'll all be there with you." George said reassuringly, looking sinfully alluring with a loose towel wrapped around his waist.

"And Brian's a softy really." John smiled, he seemed to be taking a lot of pleasure from this whole thing.

"Wouldn't really expect the leader of a crime family to be a 'softy'." Ringo chuckled.

"Well that's only if you're on his good side." Paul explained "He's got a head for business, most of the time, so I wouldn't underestimate him."

"Guess I don't really have a choice, do I?" Ringo smiled weakly.

"Not really, no." John laughed.

"Just get some rest, me and John will wake you up in the morning and we'll head off." Paul had a strange ability to always calm Ringo "So we best be off to bed."

John sighed dramatically like a child before getting up on his feet, finishing his drink with ease and leaving the glass on the table "Before I forget to tell you, Ringo, your drumming tonight was pretty fantastic."

Ringo smiled "Oh, really? Thanks..."

"Don't blame me if I'm not at The Babylon for a while though, I can only stomach so many rescue missions at once." John grinned.

Then Paul and John were heading out of George's flat, saying their happy goodbyes to both George and Ringo before finally it was the two of them alone again. Ringo let out a huff as he sunk further into the sofa, as much as the bath had made him feel a fraction better he was still aching painfully. George leaned back where he sat, pulling up Ringo's legs to lie over his lap.

"How you feeling?" George asked softly, running his fingers over Ringo's bare leg.

"Better than I was, I suppose." Ringo gave a small smile "The whole thing doesn't feel real."

"I know what you mean... I just wish you didn't have to see me like that."

"I'm not gonna lie, it was pretty freaky. I've never seen anybody die before, George, and the first time I do my boyfriend is the one doing the killing."

"Boyfriend?" George wiggled his eyebrows.

"Don't change the subject."

"Fine, fine, sorry."

"But at the end of the day I knew you were involved in this kind of thing, so I can't hold it against you or anything. And its not like you're some rampaging serial killer, as far as I know at least."

"No, of course not. Its not like I enjoy it, none of us do really. But if you're gonna be in a job like this, you've gotta be prepared for somebody to come after you, or someone you care about, and nobody in their right mind would ever let that happen without putting up a fight. Just so happens that it happens quite frequently for someone like me."

"Well it all sounds very normal when you put it like that."

There was a pause, both men smiling at one another.

"If we're done talking about that, can I go back to that 'boyfriend' moment?" George teased, causing Ringo to kick him playfully.

"Oh shut up, it just slipped out!" Ringo felt his cheeks burning slightly.

"Not the first time I've heard you say that." George grinned, he moved Ringo's legs off him gently and crawled up so that they could lie next to one another.

"Gross." Ringo laughed, shifting so that George could lie beside him.

"So am I your boyfriend, then?" His voice was quiet now with their faces so close together.

"Well there isn't anyone else buying me rings, getting me jobs and killing gangsters for me, is there?"

"I bloody hope not."

Ringo paused, looking up at George's beautiful face then smiled "I suppose you must be then."

"About time." George smiled, his tongue pushing past his teeth as he laughed.

"And what was stopping you from asking me, huh?"

"I just didn't wanna rush you, that's all." George took Ringo's hand in his own.

They lay like that for a while, George laying on his side and Ringo on his back. They shared small kisses and held hands, just relaxing into one another as the minutes passed by. Ringo began to feel drowsy, especially with George's body pressed up against his and keeping him warm, so after a while they retired to George's bed. Ringo thought he'd struggle to get to sleep considering the absolute chaos he'd experienced that night but he was asleep within minutes with George's arms wrapped around him. His mind was desperate to debate with itself, whether staying with George was the smartest (or most moral) thing for him to do, but the comfort that his now-boyfriend provided him silenced his rapid thoughts.

The following morning Paul and John knocked on George's door to wake them up, as Paul had said he would. Ringo was the first to wake and sluggishly crawled out of bed to let them in; Paul was bright-eyed and ready to leave but John looked half-awake. Paul hurried into George's room to wake him up, pulling the covers from him and shouting his name loudly before he finally stirred. Ringo found that George could sleep for hours on end and would still never wake up willingly, he wondered if he'd sleep all day if he was allowed to.

"Get up and get dressed you lazy git." Paul chuckled, finding a suit in George's wardrobe and tossing it onto his partially unconscious friend.

George mumbled something in protest but managed to get himself up. Ringo brewed tea for the four of them which they all drank happily but they each refused breakfast. After 10 minutes or so they were all dressed and ready to head out, Ringo was a little embarrassed to be wearing his clothes from last night which were not only bright pink but also incredibly scruffy.

"He won't mind, really." George smiled as he watched Ringo inspecting himself in the mirror "It's better than showing up without a suit, or trying to fit into one of mine."

"Trying to fit?" Ringo scoffed "You calling me fat, George?"

"Course not, but you'll hardly impress Brian in a suit that doesn't fit you."

"But looking like a bruised strawberry will?"

"Just trust me, love, alright?" George planted a kiss on the top of Ringo's head, standing behind him in the mirror.

Ringo sighed and steeled himself for what was to come, he had no idea what to expect but he knew it was going to be a strange experience. The four of them piled into George's car, Ringo sitting beside him with John and Paul in the back, and drove off down the street. Ringo fidgeted in his seat as they drove and every so often George would place his hand on top of Ringo's, trying his best to calm him without taking his eyes off the road. Paul and John sat snug in the backseat, John still waking up as he rested his head on Paul's shoulder. They drove to the outskirts of the city which was littered with grand houses, the likes of which Ringo never thought he'd be setting foot in. George drove up to a tall iron gate which stood between them and a ridiculously lavish house, he rolled down his window to speak into the intercom to announce their arrival. After a minute the gate opened and George parked his car in front of the house, the gates closing behind them and Ringo had a horrible feeling of entrapment. The front door opened and a tall, lean man stepped out to greet them. Paul and John were the first ones out of the car and happily hurried over to greet the man. George gave Ringo's hand a final squeeze.

"Don't be nervous, Ringo. I'll be right there with you." George said softly.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Ringo and George stepped out of the car then, the cleaner air of the country a welcome change to Ringo. They walked over to where Paul and John were already in deep conversation with this man, but he immediately stopped talking when he caught sight of Ringo. Ringo got a better look at the man now, and he could see he had very severe cheekbones and slicked back hair; overall he looked very presentable but wasn't unfriendly in any way.

"So, this must be the man of the hour." The man said, he had an extremely posh accent "So great to finally meet you Ringo, I'm George." He held out his hand and Ringo shook it tentatively.

"Nice to meet you too." Ringo smiled, he could tell immediately that this man was a professional - whatever his job may be.

"Well there's no use in us all standing out in the cold, come on in." He said, walking back into the house and leading the four of them into a lavishly decorated sitting room. "Anyone for a cup of tea?"

"I'm alright, George." Paul said politely, taking a seat on one of the many sofas, the others made noises in agreement.

"I'll just let Brian know you're here, shouldn't be long." He said with another smile, ducking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

"Two Georges? I thought one was bad enough." Ringo said after a silence, causing the four of them to laugh "Who's he then?"

"He's a right legend, George is." John said, helping himself to some of the biscuits that were laid out on the table in front of them.

"He's kind of like our collective dad, if that makes sense." George chuckled "He got us involved in the whole thing years back."

"Even though Brian is the head of it all, George is like our boss. He looks out for us and so forth." Paul explained.

A few minutes passed before the door opened again, George stepped in once more followed by a second man with dark hair and kind eyes, who Ringo could only assume was Brian. He had round features and a gentle smile, quite the opposite of the George stood beside him. Paul stood up when they entered the room, the other three of them following suit.

"Oh sit, sit." The man said, he too had a posh voice, and all of them except Ringo sat back down.

He approached Ringo immediately, a happy look across his face, as he held out his hand for Ringo to shake which he did as professionally as he could manage.

"So you're Ringo, then?" He said "And these are the famous rings?" He turned his hand so that Ringo's was more visible to him so he could inspect the three rings on his fingers.

Ringo chuckled awkwardly, when they'd said he was 'a softy' he certainly wasn't expecting this "And you must be Brian." He said, a grin on his face.

"The very same." Brian said, letting go of Ringo's hand and taking a seat close to them "Now you're naturally wondering why I've asked you here, aren't you?"

"Maybe a little." Ringo smiled.

"Well I want to start off by apologising on my behalf and on behalf of my entire family for what happened last night. The last thing I ever want is innocent people getting mixed up in our business, so I hope you can accept my apology." He leaned back in the chair comfortably, and while he didn't look threatening he had a commanding presence about him.

"No, no, it's fine. Luckily nobody got seriously hurt, well apart from..." Ringo's voice trailed off as his brain flashed the images of the dead bodies into his mind.

"Oh, they're a rotten sort that Chapman lot. Of course we never want anybody to get hurt, but its an unavoidable eventuality sometimes." He smiled warmly "And I don't expect that this is the end of this terrible ordeal, which is the reason why I've asked you here today. You see, I understand that yourself and George have a very close relationship and that's wonderful, of course, but it does unfortunately put you somewhat at risk. In my position there isn't much I can do about it because you aren't employed by me, but that's an error I can easily correct."

Ringo gulped "What do you mean by employed? Because I- I don't want to be rude or anything, but I'm not a very violent person and I don't think I could do the things that these three do."

"No, no, of course not." Brian's smile hadn't faltered "I wouldn't dream of such a thing. There are many areas that I cover, many of which don't involve any violence at all. This is simply a way for me to place you under the protection of our family, and also shows me that I can trust you. No doubt you've learned a lot of sensitive information during your time with George that could be used against us, so you can understand why employing you would be a comfort to me."

"I would never-" Ringo began.

"Don't worry Ringo, I'm not suggesting that you would ever betray George like that, but there are a lot of people out there who would do terrible things to get that information or to get access to you and your influence. All I'm proposing to you today is whether you would like to become a member of this organisation; you will be able to continue your job at The Babylon as normal, but there may be times in which I require your services. Do you understand?" Brian spoke clearly.

"Er, partly, yes. What exactly would I be doing?" Ringo felt like he wasn't understanding through a fault of his own, but he also wondered whether Brian was speaking like this intentionally.

"Well you have your advantages because you're mostly unknown, meaning no offence. There are times in which we might need information gathered, and your occupation as a musician means you may be able to infiltrate spaces that we wouldn't. Certainly your safety will always be considered, I wouldn't dream of getting you hurt like that again. The choice is entirely up to you, but I urge you to see the benefits." Brian crossed one leg over the other.

"So I wouldn't necessarily be doing anything illegal?" Ringo asked.

"Your actions themselves might not be incriminating, but being associated with a crime syndicate is very illegal, I'm afraid."

"Oh..." Ringo's voice trailed off once more and he looked over at George for encouragement but Brian spoke again.

"I don't mean to intrude, Ringo, but I wouldn't use the law strictly as a moral compass. After all, your relationship with George is illegal in this country and do you believe it to be immoral?" Brian's tone changed now.

"No, of course not." Ringo said sternly, unconsciously taking George's hand in his own.

"Precisely my point. We aren't bad people, while the law would tell you otherwise. I had to learn the hard way that the law isn't always on your side, and sometimes to do what's truly right you must break it. Does that help you in any way?"

"I'm just a little hesitant, is all. But you're saying I can carry on with my drumming, and I'd never be doing anything truly dangerous?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Certainly your association with George will still carry as much danger as it had before, but you would now have the protection of the rest of the family."

"Well it all sounds very simple put like that." Ringo chuckled quietly.

"It's a job opportunity at the end of the day, granted its an unusual one. You would be handsomely rewarded for your services, of course, and you'd never be obliged to do anything you didn't want to. So what do you say?" Brian's gaze hadn't moved from Ringo this entire time but it didn't scare Ringo, if anything it comforted him.

"I'll do it." Ringo said plainly, he felt George grip his hand tighter upon his words and he saw John grinning out of the corner of his eye.

"Excellent! You won't regret it, Ringo, I promise you that." Brian sprung up from his chair now joyfully "Now, I'll place you under the care of the lovely George Martin, so if you have any issues or questions please direct them to him."

"All I ask is that you don't call me in the middle of the night because you're too drunk to drive home." George said playfully, passing a stern glare to John "I'm not a taxi service, am I boys?"

"No." The three others said in unison which made Ringo and Brian laugh.

"Right, well I best be getting back to business. This whole Chapman mess is very time-consuming, as I'm sure you can imagine. Now you boys need to get home and get some rest, alright?" Brian looked at them all with a smile on his face then turned back to Ringo "In a couple of days or so we should have some accommodation sorted for you, we'll let you know when it's ready."

"Accommodation?" Ringo asked dumbfounded.

"Of course." Brian laughed "We can't have you living too far away now, can we?" He turned to George who was standing by the window "There's an unoccupied flat on the boys' floor isn't there, George?"

"As far I'm aware, yes." George said, he was holding his hands behind his back.

"Perfect! Well I'll make the arrangements at some point today." Brian shook Ringo's hand again "It's been grand meeting you, I'm sorry it has to be so brief."

He started heading out of the room then, George Martin opening the door for him, but he paused before vanishing entirely and called out.

"Welcome to the family, Ringo." He said with a laugh before both himself and George walked out of the room.

As soon as the door was closed, John pounced onto Ringo from the opposite sofa laughing. Paul and George soon joined in on this strange combination of wrestling and hugging.

"Welcome to the family Ringo!" The three of them shouted in chorus, laughing all the while.

The whole thing still felt like a strange dream; two months ago if Ringo could somehow look into the future and saw himself in a bright, pink suit in a lavish house being almost suffocated by three gay gangsters he would've been sure he was going crazy. Yet here he was, in that exact situation, feeling like this life couldn't be going in a better direction.

#the beatles #beatles #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #george harrison/ringo starr #ringo starr/george harrison #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #george harrisonxringo starr #starrison

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pluckyredhead · 5 years

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Daredevil 101: What Happened to Milla, Part 1

For the past while in Daredevil 101, Matt has been somewhat rockily married to a woman named Milla Donovan. Sharp-eyed readers may have noticed that Matt is no longer married in comics continuity. What happened?

*sigh* “To the Devil, His Due” and “Without Fear” happened, aka Daredevil v2 95-105 by Ed Brubaker and Michael Lark. Aka an absolutely interminable parade of pointless cruelty riddled with dangling plot threads and misogyny. Yes, the team that gave us the masterful “Devil in Cell Block D” has now gone off the rails so hard that Amtrak is still working on the repairs. (Sadly, their run never improves, so strap in, I guess.)

Now, Milla is not exactly my favorite character, but very few things in DD history make me madder than the way she was written off. It’s so clear that Brubaker wanted to fridge her but realized he couldn’t get away with a fifth dead Daredevil love interest, so he figured out a different “fate worse than death” (hoo boy we’ll have to unpack that in Part 2). No price is too high for a woman to pay if it means Matt Murdock suffers, amirite?

And with that tempting introduction (?), let’s get into it!

Content Warnings: Ableism, sexual assault and implied threats of sexual violence.

We begin with Melvin, who is in jail thanks to having attacked Matt back when he was blackmailed into doing so. Specifically, we begin with Melvin in a room with a bunch of dead bodies he swears up and down he isn’t responsible for.

Matt and Foggy and most especially Becky Blake believe him and take his case, but just a few days later it happens again - Melvin is found surrounded by dead bodies and claiming to have no memory of what happened but that he didn’t do it. The psych eval doesn’t go well, in that, well, he passes:

According to the doctor, this isn’t Melvin being taken over by his Gladiator personality or an actual second person stepping in - this is just Melvin himself killing people. Which for Melvin’s legal team (and friends) is the worst possible option, of course.

Meanwhile, Milla appears to have taken up therapy:

Aside from what this story does to Milla and Melvin, part of what makes it so bad is the structure. This was partially due to a couple of company-wide crossovers that we’ll see marching through the book in a little bit, but also just lots of things being set up and then dropped without going anywhere. Here we see Milla in therapy, which is never returned to or discussed. The sinister way this is framed makes it clear that the person she’s speaking to is the villain of the piece, but the fact that he met Milla at therapy is never revealed or mentioned at all. Later in the scene he says something about how he hasn’t told his wife that he’s in therapy but he should stop underestimating her, which is clearly meant to get under Milla’s skin in regards to her relationship with Matt, but that kind of subtle manipulation is too interesting for this story and leads absolutely nowhere. And of course we don’t get to actually see Milla talking to her therapist, which would require her to have an interior life.

Which means we have an entire scene that could have been replaced with a single panel of Milla bumping into someone on the street that would have had exactly the same effect on the plot. And the pacing problems only get worse from here, folks!

Anyway. The state decides to move Melvin, but he escapes his prison transport - and attacks Matt, who’s been keeping an ear on things:

Melvin kicks the crap out of Matt and escapes, but Matt realizes that there’s something wrong with Melvin - it may not be the Gladiator taking over, but this isn’t his friend, either.

The next day, Nelson and Murdock receive a surprise guest: Lily Lucca, who you may remember as she of the Karen-smelling perfume who aided and abetted in multiple murders and lured Matt into a confrontation with Vanessa Fisk:

As you’ll recall, the perfume Vanessa gave Lily to entrap Matt with makes her smell like every man’s fondest memory [INSERT GIANT EYEROLL HERE], which is why Foggy’s falling all over himself here. But now she has a problem: even though she’s not using the perfume anymore, she still smells like it, which means men are constantly creepily following her around, getting into fights over her, etc.

This is...sigh. There’s an aspect of “female character is punished for using her sexuality” here that makes me super uncomfortable. Certainly 90% of comic book villains have some kind of monkey’s paw in their backstory (“I tried to make a cool suit of armor and now I have robot tentacles!” “I tried to cryogenically freeze my dying wife and now I am really cold all the time!” etc.), but there’s a way in which it’s weaponized against certain types of female characters that’s deeply gendered and often kinda rape-y. (I got this vibe with Debbie and Micah Synn as well.) Lily wanted to control men through their desire to her? Well, now they might desire her so much they’ll assault her! That’ll show her! I guess. Ugh, it just grosses me out.

Anyway, Matt reluctantly agrees to help her, or more specifically have Dakota help her, since she won’t be affected by Lily’s scent the way he and Foggy will. Even with this caveat, when he meets Milla for dinner she does not like this:

I think we’re meant to be reading Milla as not being entirely rational about Lily because she’s so jealous of Karen’s memory and Lily reminds Matt of Karen, but she’s not wrong. I have no idea if we’re meant to read Matt as being sort of a douche in this scene but if my husband was like “Keep your voice down” and “Don’t be so hyperbolic” I would walk out of that fucking restaurant.

Or run, as the case may be:

Matt distracts Melvin so that Milla can get away (lotta Ms in this storyline), then somehow quick-changes to Daredevil for a fight. Melvin knocks him out and Matt wakes up handcuffed in the back of a police car:

The cops are arguing because it’s the middle of Civil War, which didn’t touch the Daredevil book very much but Matt was firmly on the anti-registration Team Cap side, unsurprisingly. As an unregistered superhero, just being out in a mask made him a criminal. (They don’t do anything with the fact that his secret identity was basically an open book at this point, which would have been interesting.)

Anyway, The Mysterious Voice Speaking On A Frequency Only Matt Can Hear gleefully tells him that he left his wallet at the restaurant, which has his home address, which means Melvin knows where to find Milla. Of course, Melvin was one of Matt’s bodyguards when his identity was first exposed and definitely already knew where he lived, but whatever.

Milla is, of course, wandering around the apartment in nothing but a bra and panties when Melvin shows up, because Daredevil artists apparently love putting her in her underwear to terrorize her and this is the last chance they’ll have to do it.

Melvin takes Milla up to the roof to wait for Matt. I’m including this exchange, where Milla tries to talk him down by appealing to his better nature, because it’s basically her last moment as herself. Reminding others of their better angels has always been one of her strengths, and she deserves to have that highlighted before...everything else.

Matt shows up. Melvin throws Milla off the roof:

Matt miraculously saves her and returns to fight Melvin, but Melvin has pretty much given up at this point and it’s all over but the crying. He’s bundled off to maximum security, and that’s...well, that’s the end of Melvin. This storyline came out in 2007, and this sweet, interesting character who has been around since the Silver Age has been unusable ever since. So thanks for that, Brubaker.

Matt’s furious, and determined to figure out who did this to Melvin:

“What did your sensei say about fighting angry?” always makes me laugh. Also, why would you ever suggest Matt follow Stick’s advice, Foggy, honestly.

(Foggy is A+++++ in this storyline and it makes me mad that I can’t even enjoy it because he’s just frantically trying to salvage a steaming pile of shit the whole time. Also given the overall ableism in this story I’m a little :/ that he basically takes over being the functional adult like Matt’s incapable of it.)

Matt runs into another dropped plot thread here because he gets on the trail of a street drug that makes people angry, which, like, how would Melvin have even gotten that in prison anyway, especially nonconsensually? Also, every other depiction of this drug shows it putting the user into a senseless rage, but Melvin sure was able to find his old lair, put on his Daredevil costume, track down Matt, and kidnap his wife when the plot required him to. How very Guardian Devil.

Anyway, Matt starts tracking the drug to its source. Meanwhile, Milla shows up at N&M:

Yeah, from here on out Milla is all tears and hysteria. Sigh.

Foggy decides to take her home, and Lily tags along, even though Foggy thinks that’s a REALLY REALLY bad idea because a) she's upsetting Milla, b) she fucks with Foggy’s head, and c) every dude in the subway is going to be all over her. But Lily insists, because she’s...manipulative? Genuinely feeling guilty and choosing the absolute worst way to fix that? Flimsy plot reasons? Let’s go with flimsy plot reasons.

While waiting for the train, Milla pretty much loses her shit at Lily, and also the world in general:

“I don’t know what I’ve done to you” is pretty rich, Lily. YOU LURED HER HUSBAND ON A MURDER CHASE ACROSS EUROPE.

Meanwhile, Dakota is still trying to figure out where Vanessa got Lily’s original perfume from - and Matt has followed the drug trail back to the Enforcers, a bunch of goofy-ass Silver Age villains we haven’t seen in decades. (They are specifically named the Ox, Fancy Dan, and Montana. They are ridiculous.) They clobber him and take him to their leader:

LARRY CRANSTON. MISTER FEAR. He made the perfume. He drove Melvin insane. And he’s the reason behind what happens next:

Lily lives. The random bystander does not. And when Matt, having been literally thrown out of the window and into the garbage by Mister Fear, returns home, Foggy is waiting for him:

Next Time: Milla is taken into custody, and Matt searches for a cure.

#daredevil #daredevil 101

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the-pan-ace-writings · 5 years

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Chapter 11 Things left unspoken

First Previous Masterlist

As soon as she was able to function without feeling extremely nauseous and could breathe without the ache in her ribs she left for Nick Valentine’s office. “Nick, it's going to be a little bit before I continue our investigation, I just.. I can't right now. I-” her voice cracked and she looked at the door frame she was leaning in refusing to look at Nick at that moment. She felt him place a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “You take your time, its a lot. Come back here when you’re ready.” “Thank you.” it was whispered before she turned away from his office, she tried to walk with her normal confidence but it was clear she was starting to crack again. She felt weak. Like when she had just exited the vault, it took her a long time to collect herself and glue composure back together. She just wanted to go back before things had started to fall through.

She steeled herself before she entered the room again. She had been fixing her armor before she had left, she could hear the water running in the restroom. She spent the majority of the time collecting and packing her ruck, and she had finished equipping her armor when MacCready had stepped out of the restroom dressed and damp towels in hand. “Where are Winlock and Barnes anyway?” “Mass pike interchange, they’ve set up on the old overpasses.” He started packing up his own ruck and had swung his newly cleaned rifle over his shoulder. “It's probably a day worth of travel” Dogmeat had gotten up from his spot on the bed and was now standing near the door wagging his tail anxiously looking back at them. Riona shook her head in amusement at the dog. “I guess we’re starting now.” She double checked her equipment and opened the door. The market place was surprisingly busy for the time of the morning it was but It was still manageable to maneuver, they were just about to leave before MacCready insisted on stopping to collect more medical supplies. “We went through a lot the last time we went out, should get more.” He went off with Dogmeat for a moment and Riona sat down on a fence trying to plot out the best way to get to the interchange, she had decided to avoid going towards the west tunnel of the interchange because it was likely collapsed. She was still working on plotting out their path when they had returned, MacCready was looking over her shoulder leaning on the fence she was perched on, She tipped it towards him to show their path. “Figured we could go up north, then west to take the bridge than to try going through the tunnels.” She looked up at him expectantly waiting for him to give feedback. “Looks good Boss,” He said with a smile and pushed off the fence waiting for them to leave. They traveled with relative ease until they hit a portion of the city MacCready had called hangman's alley. Riona grumbled, they would have to clear this before they could continue, She tugged on her helmet and put her visor in place before flicking on her sword. They both could hear a firefight going on in the near distance which set them on edge. “Cready’ watch our back” She was already crouched down by one of the doors to enter hangman’s alley, trying to unlock the chained doors. Once they swung open it the alley broke into chaos. There was a guard post right next to the door, she immediately climbed up onto it and gutted the raider that stood post there. She could hear others running from their dilapidated shacks, and hear one or two yells in the signature psycho high. Dogmeat had bolted in after her and crashed into another raider, pinning them down on the ground, Riona had made short work of the entrapped raider. MacCready had taken out a raider that was perched upon one of the roofs, that was taking aim down at Riona. Of which was currently fist fighting a psycho raider, it took mere seconds for Riona to lose her patients with the raider who had managed to disarm her. She had kicked his legs out from under him and slammed his head into the workbench that she was previously pinned against, a curtain of red dripping down from it and her face splattered. It was a relatively short battle and one that only Riona had managed to come out dirty. But she was excited to continue their journey, she was excited to have an attainable goal, something physical and something she knew the outcome. So when she took off her visor and helmet she was beaming, s look MacCready hadn't seen on her before. “You just like killing' things dontcha?” he knocked his shoulder into hers, she pushed back and looked up at him. “I'm just glad to be getting stuff done.” she placed her visor and sword back at her hip, before biting her lip and looking away from him fiddling with a strap on her shoulder. “We should only be going north for a little bit more.” It was relatively quiet for being in the outdoors, occasionally Dogmeat would bolt off to collect some items that Riona hadn't seen. It was a peaceful kind of silence that had become rare in the commonwealth and even rarer when if you traveled the commonwealth often. Riona had decided to start flicking through the radio stations and had settled on the diamond city radio, which had been playing jovial songs. “I wonder how they managed to find so many different songs after the bombs, their tapes had been hard to keep before.” She was just saying what floated off her mind at the moment and occasionally humming along. MacCready seemed momentarily surprised before looking down at her again. “What was it like? Before the bombs?” He tried to sound nonchalant, not wanting to dive into her past and make her uncomfortable. She hummed and pulled on the lapels of her coat, it was becoming the time of year that she would expect to see snow soon, her new coat and armor doing little now to defend against the chill. “It was… Different. It wasn't violent near our homes or in our towns but it felt like it could happen any day. There were supply shortages all the time for the home front, almost everything had been pushed to back our military. Cars couldn't drive, there was no fuel for anything that wasn't deemed important, and the fusion cars that are left on the roads today were too expensive and hard to obtain. We were waiting for the shoe to drop...I was apart of the Army before. They had just started a real campaign into fusion power, it was powered the majority of what we had left, it was introduced into schools and hospitals which had been important enough to keep power. Our armor was powered by it, and it was mostly what our group troops had used. I had joined when I turned 18, it was in the middle of the riots in Canada, almost immediately after my training they sent my unit to the Alaskan front. I couldn't tell you how long we were there on that front but I had finished my first contract on that front. I was a little less than two years into my second contract when I was sent home, pregnant. I was forced back home. I hated it. Back to Nate, a coward. He thought it was a good thing, glad that I was pregnant, even though it wasn't going to be his. He thought a baby would fix our marriage. We never should have gotten married in the first place, he was nervous when I had joined, and when I came home from basic he insisted we get married. He got to enjoy the creature comforts that my service rewarded, the home in Sanctuary, and easier access to supply. When I got home I had taken up needlepoint just trying to forget what I had seen and to forget who I lived with. It all felt like a blur at that point. When Shaun was born it was like a little light had been brought into my blur of life, I poured everything else I had at that point into caring for him. He wasn't even a year old when the bombs fell when he was stolen.” she was silent, and pulled at her fingers, adjusting anything that her hands could find, anything to avoid looking at MacCready after her likely oversharing. She hadn't thought of before in real detail until he had asked, it was something she had never really wanted to delve into when there were other things to do. She frowned, it was deep, her brow was furrowed. “I'm sorry, you're not here for a life story, it was chaotic before, difficult to navigate, this, today is much easier to manage.” It was short, stern and not really open for anything else. “Riona, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories or upset you.” He was soft spoken, something which surprised Riona entirely, she met his eyes and noticed how incredibly worried he seemed momentary, he seemed extremely stressed out about the whole scenario at this point. She didn't like it. It was silent once again before she pointed out that they had to start traveling west on the road they had met. Dogmeat had found a large stick that he was dragging along the road and kept bounding between the both of them. She was smiling once again, as she picked up a smaller stick and chucked it for the dog, Of which bolted after it leaves the small tree he was dragging behind. Dogmeat had crashed into her when he returned with his stick, knocking her off balance and nearly to the ground when MacCready had caught her. She laughed lightly as she straightens, collecting the stick to toss for dogmeat. “Thank you Cready’” it was like playing with Dogmeat had taken years off of her, the normal scowl marks and stern face had melted into a warm smile. It was MacCready’s turn to throw Dogmeat's stick when he had bounded back towards them, When he looked at Riona she was fixing her hair, pulling it from the messy bun into a braid that hit on her mid-back. “How old are you?” it came out thoughtlessly, slipped from his tongue without a moment of thought put into it. She looked up at him, eyes wider than normal. He was beet red and was stammering an apology. “25, I think. Give or take a few hundred years” She chuckled at that and bumped into his side. “Cready’ it's not that big of a deal, don't worry bout’ it.” She had half a mind to laugh at him, she had no idea he could get so flustered over something like that. “How old are you then?” He looked strained for a moment, deep in thought and she thought he wasn't going to answer her until he spoke. “22” She was surprised, it was only three years but she would have guessed that he was at least her age or older, with how stressed he looked all of the time. She supposed a life out in the commonwealth would do that to you though. “Oh, I didn't expect that,” she laughed, trying to lighten the mood again. He smiled “What? You expect me to be old like you, huh?” He had a grin growing as he looked down at her. She feigned offense, pressing a hand to her chest and putting a haughty look upon her face. “Well, I'll be! I'm not old! You're just jealous” she was laughing fully leaning against MacCready as they walked, it had fallen quiet again, songs from the radio slowly filtering in. Dogmeat had joined them again and was currently struggling between carrying his throwing stick and another small tree. She had checked the map on her pip-boy, they were probably a few more hours out. They walked close for a while, she was worrying her lip again when she let out a small huff and wound her arm through his without saying a word, she had a slight blush graced across her face, which only deepened when she felt his handset on top of hers. They stayed like that, undisturbed on their travels to mass pike interchange, they stopped about a half hour out to set up in an abandoned shack to rest through the night.

#maccready #Robert Joseph MacCready #sole survivor x maccready #reader x maccready #sole survivor #fallout4 #fallout4 companions #sat in the ashes #fluffy

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the-bummer-set · 6 years

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Unpredictable Part 1- Bill Hargrove

So, this was going to be a one shot.. but I started to love the idea.. and now it will be a mini-series.

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Plot: Reader is an escaped experiment from Hawkins lab. She has the power to see a few days into the future. When she starts school in the middle of senior year she finds out that there is something wrong, but it isn’t all bad,

Warnings: Light swearing.Foster family. Entrapment.

Taglist: @dacremontgomerylover (If you want added let me know!)

Author’s Note: Comments and feedback are always welcome!

You had spent your whole life in Hawkins, Indiana and yet you knew absolutely nothing about it. From a young age you were told no one would accept you outside of the walls that confined you. A personal prison. You a personal poison to anyone you could come into contact with. His words, not yours. The outside world was scary, people were scary, but you... you were terrifying. Being along was a scary thought. You hated being trapped inside your own mind, trapped with the never ending onslaught of the same visions over and over again. You were taught to read and write and how to do arithmetic. Just like the children in the books you read. From all accounts of 'normal' outside childhood, you were just as normal as the rest of them, save for the nearsighted glimpses into the future. But, that was your blessing and burden to bare. Everyday the visions were the same. Didn't matter. Walks down the halls. Sitting in the cool metal chair. Hooked up to wires. Saying you didn't see anything important. Being called a liar. It was true though, you never saw anything further than a few days ahead. Your powers were as simple as being able to know what you were having for lunch the next few days and who you would and wouldn't see in your daily travels to E-Val. "Open your mind, look deep, try to manifest what you want to see." Dr. Brenner would say to you. "It isn't the simple." You would tell him only to be disconnected and thrown back to your room. You saw the ending in sight. It came creeping upon you in the dark night. You thought you had to be dreaming again. You could hear the howling, so loud your ears hurt. The power failure that terrified you. The distinct sound of a door opening. That morning you would keep that from Dr. Brenner, trying your best to hide it from E-Val nurses and lie detectors. The next night the vision was more intense and longer too. This time you could see the emergency lighting lining the hallways. You could predict where the monsters would be. Your heart beating so loud you were afraid it wold give you away. Each night the nightmare got longer and darker, until the last night you spent in your room. Sleep eluded you. You had just closed your eyes when you heard it. A low rumble of a howl. Your eyes shot open. The only source of light in the room creeping in from under the door faltered. A rapid succession of flickers, then nothing. The room was the darkest it had ever been, you held your breath, waiting for the unmistakable sound of a lock unlocking. CLICK. You heart skipped a beat. Last night's nightmare prepared you for the escape. You slowly crept from your bed over the door, opening it slowly. The emergency lighting had come on, like your visions had promised. Slipping your way through the hallways you found yourself standing by an emergency exit. You could see through the small window that it was pitch black outside. You had seen all of this before and you felt the fear dissipate. Pushing the door open you could feel the cold air hit you like a blanket. ____________________________________________________________________________

After getting settled in your foster home you had dreams about today. Your foster parents didn't know where you had come from or what you were capable of and you felt like you were deceiving them. They were an older couple, probably close to their 60s, Helen and Frank Barber. They took you in from the police station no questions asked. Sure, a lot of people at the station were suspicious of your origins. Chief Hopper the most. You insisted though that you ran away from home. Home was in Maine. The setting to all of your favorite books. Don't bother looking for parents, they were.. gone. The visions of your first day at Hawkins high, for being a foster kid on the run you certainly did test high and were able to go for the last leg of your senior year, were intense. You were ogled by so many different people and asked so many questions. Mentally always thanking your love of reading for the social queues of teenage normalcy. When Helen and Frank dropped you off you thanked them, waved, and prepared for the stares. You had been getting them your whole life from the same people. When you are conditioned to be a freak, you feel like one. Everyone looked the same from your visions. You didn't look up, too afraid to make eye contact. Instead, you bee lined to the front office, introduced yourself shyly. Your class schedule was exactly how you pictured it. Each classroom was perfectly placed like you had spent your whole life going here. You had been muddling your way through the morning, everything exactly as it should be until third period. You introduced yourself to your teacher and turned to face the class. When you noticed a huge abnormality to your vision. Something you did not see at all in away way shape or form over the last few days. He was sitting in the back corner. Leather jacket and long blonde hair. He had this devilish grin on his face, shaking his head while looking out he window. Everyone must have noticed how shocked you were to see something that you weren't expecting because every single pair of eyes were on you. "Hey, Hargrove, looks like someone likes you." Some arrogant jerk spoke from the front. This caught the boy's attention. He turned his gaze from the parking lot to you. "You like what you see Princess?" He asked raising his eye brows and getting a chorus of laughs. "That's enough Billy." The teacher said. "Y/N go ahead and take a seat next to Victoria. Victoria dear can you raise your hand so she knows where to go." The girl with long brown hair and thick rimmed glasses raised her hand. No surprise to you, you saw this. You saw every little detail, even the writing on the chalkboard, but you never saw this Billy Hargrove. The rest of class went by undisturbed.When the bell rang you got up keeping your eyes to the floor, doing everything in your power to not deal with Billy. Which was going just perfectly fine, until you ran smack dab into him in the front of the classroom. "I didn't see you." You muttered. "What?" Billy asked. His voice softer than it had been now that the room was empty. "I didn't see you." "Well, I guess not, but no harm done." He smiled and extended his hand. "I'm Billy Hargrove. Sorry for the comment I made earlier. I have a reputation to uphold here, I can see it made you uncomfortable and that wasn't my intention." "I didn't see you at all..." You spoke louder. "Yeah, we established that. Um, listen what class do you have next, I feel like I owe it to you to at least walk you there." You shook the thought from your head. "Uh, Literature with Mr. Duvall. Room..." "237." Billy smiled broadly. "Me too." Your visions were completely void of BIlly Hargrove, and even now having met him, you didn't see him in any of them. He was a complete and total mystery to you. You replayed the vision of you walking to Literature class and not a single person beside you or anything of the sort. It was troubling. You couldn't pinpoint him anywhere on the map of your visions. No where, past, present, not so distant future. "Mr. Duvall... this is Y/N. Today is her first day." "Thank you Billy. Class this is Y/N. She's a new student, here from... where are you from dear?" "Maine." You answered quickly, pushing down the truth. You were from Hawkins, Indiana, born and raised, I was trapped in that awful research facility that killed your fellow classmate Barb and had all that mysterious toxic bullshit. "Maine? The land of Stephen King." Mr Duvall beamed. "Have you read any King?" "Yes sir." It was after all the reason you chose Maine instead of anywhere else USA. "What is your favorite work of his?" "The Stand." Mr. Duvall raise his eyebrow. "I just find the idea of being able to see the future in snippets extraordinary, like how Stu knows where to go to get out of trouble..." The rest of Literature was uneventful. You could feel the warm sensation of someone watching you. It was delicious and terrifying all at once. Literature in your visions was just another class. Nothing worth writing home about. You tried to scan your visions, trying to figure out what was in the room where Billy was seated. When you realized it, you were mortified. You shook the vision from your head and peered back towards Billy. He smiled at you and you smiled back feeling a wave of heat flush over your cheeks. You tried the rest of the day to get it off. At the end of the school day you grabbed your bag from your locker and walked out into the warm Spring air. "Hey Y/N." Billy walked up beside you and you could feel the heat pulling from you. "Do you want to go get something to eat tonight? I could give you a little tour of this shit hole that is Hawkins and maybe make up for the fact that I was an ass." The thought of something you didn't see happening ahead of time was overwhelming, but you were always so jealous of the exciting lives of those that you read about. "Sure, I'd love to." "You're staying with the Barbers right?" You nodded. "I'm only a few houses down. I'll pick you up around 6." You confirmed six was fine and said your goodbyes to Billy, until he noticed you were walking home. "Do you want a ride? My sister Max is getting a ride with that Sinclair kid, so I don't have to pick her up today." "You have a sister?" You questioned him as you walked towards his car. "Step sister. You? You have any siblings?" That was a tough question. You were one of the oldest out of all the experiments in Brenner’s arsenal. You knew Brenner was your biological father, but you didn't know if the case was true with any of the others. "No. I'm an only child." You responded. It could have been true and for right now, that was good enough. "So Maine huh?" Billy opened up the passenger side door for you. You were surprised by how chivalrous he was given his demeanor when you were being a complete idiot. "Yeah..." You trailed off. "Maine." "What's it like?" Horrifying? You had never been to Maine, you only read Stephen King books and by all his accounts Maine should be completely eradicated from the face of the Earth. "Same as Hawkins." Given the news lately and the inevitable military shut down of Hawkins Labs, the multi dimensional hellscape of Maine was actually rather comparative of Hawkins. "Boring, crap shoot of an American town?" "Exactly." You both laughed. It was the first time you had a full laugh in ages. It was few and far between when you had a great day locked up. You found comfort in your reading and that was the usual cause of your joy. "So, did you grow up in Hawkins?" You asked him. Billy turned to look at you amazed that you asked him such a stupid question before remembering you're the new kid now. You had no idea he existed before today. "No. My family, we're from California." You got excited. California was a high contender in places you have longed to see. Reading about the perfect combinations of landscapes, the bustling city life, the feeling of ocean waves crashing on your feet. "I've always wanted to go to California." Billy shrugged, he desperately missed being at home... "Well, once you've seen one ocean you've seen them all I suppose. I'm sure living in Maine and living in California have a lot of similarities." You didn't know what to say, you never honestly lived any place other than a stagnant laboratory with only glimpses of the Hawkins forest scapes outside tall office windows. "I guess so." You were almost disappointed when Billy pulled up in front of Helen and Frank's house. Your house too they insisted. You were genuinely enjoying your conversations with him. "So I will pick you up around 6. If anything changes, just call me. Try to do it before five though, before my prick of a dad gets home." "I doubt anything will change, but sure." You took the slip of paper from him and slid it into the back pocket of your jeans. "Honestly, I am sure Helen and Frank will be delighted I am making friends already." You smirked. "If I don't hear from you before five, I'll pick you up at six. Hope to see you then." Billy waved before driving down the road. You made your way into the house, smelling the scent of lemon and Petunia bu Yardley Smith perfume. Helen must have spent most of the day playing 1950s housewife. "Oh Y/N! You're home! How was school dear? Did you make any friends?" You told her all about your day over a glass of lemonade and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. "Do you mind if I go out tonight for a little bit?" You asked her. "Billy Hargrove wants to give me a tour of the town and take me to dinner." "That sounds like a date." Helen couldn't hide her giddiness. "I don't think I would call it a date." "Oh honey, I don't mind, you go out and have fun, that's what girls your age need. Go on dates! Live your life." Helen patted you on the shoulder. "Frank is going to be so excited!" "Thank you Helen." You smiled and finished your lemonade. "I'll be in my room getting ready." Standing in front of your mirror you tried to visualize your night, but nothing would come to you. Ever since you saw Billy the visions were blurred. You could see tomorrows classes, unless you had them with him. You could see what Helen was making for dinner on Thursday,but you couldn't see Billy at all. It was horribly confusing. When you were finally ready and sick of obsessing over why you couldn't see the exact future anymore you settled on finding an outfit. A simple pair of jeans, black high heels, and a burgundy off the shoulder top. You brushed your hair out and put on a little bit of makeup. Nothing over the top. This wasn't a date like Helen was trying to convince you. You grabbed your bag from off the chair and made your way downstairs. Hearing a knock on the door you looked over at the mirror, your played with your hair getting it perfect before opening it. "Hey Billy." You smiled. "Hey you." He gave you a quick nonchalant almost invisible look over. "You must be Billy." Helen came over and introduced herself. "You're so handsome! Your step mother always has such nice things to say about you.." Billy raised and eye brow before brushing it off. "Well, that is good to know. It is a pleasure to meet you." He extended his hand and shook hers softly. "You two have fun tonight." "Have her home by ten." Frank yelled from behind the newspaper in the living room. "Yes sir." Billy replied and took your hand. "Sorry about all that." You groaned. "Don't worry about it." He opened the car door for you again and you beamed. "So, where to first?" "I figured we could go to the diner. Then I will take you for a ride." He shrugged looking over at you making sure his plans were okay. "Sounds good to me." You settled into your seat. playing with a string hanging from the bottom of your shirt. "Is that a tattoo?" Billy asked looking down at the inside of your wrist. You covered it up quickly. "Yeah. It is." "So what does the number 4 have to do with anything?"

#unpredictable #Billy Hargrove #billy hargove x reader #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things fiction

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gayfraphne · 6 years

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scooby-doo and the curse of the 13th ghost review

WARNING: contains spoilers, as well as my unsolicited opinion. read at you own risk folks.

i’ll start off by saying, i really liked curse of the 13th ghost. it certainly wasn’t groundbreaking, but i had a great time watching it and i’m happy it exists. that being said, there were a few things that made me scratch my head a little bit.

the movie starts with a sepia filtered flashback of vincent van ghoul and his lover mortifer (not really but,,,,, we know how to read between the lines WB) capturing ghosts in the chest of demons. the scene ends with mortifer having his fucking soul devoured by ghosts and dying right there in front of my seven year old eyes. i literally screamed.

the title sequence absolutely sent me. it was really good on its own, but i love how it actually explains the whole plot of 13 ghosts, because i never actually saw it.

next we get a classic mall chase scene. there’s a hilarious moment when they’re chasing the suspect up an escalator, and fred tells the gang that they can’t run because it’s too dangerous, so they all have to stand on this escalator while tacky elevator music plays before continuing the chase. fred’s being an asshole to daphne in this scene to emphasise how attached he is to his leadership position, and daphne (like the bad bitch she is) ignores him and catches the guy they’re chasing herself, to emphasise that she’s much smarter than fred. not that much smarter, however, because it turns out they caught the wrong guy. they interact with the sheriff, who tells them that they’re too sloppy, and that once they turn eighteen (which is coming up quickly) they might end up serving jail time for harassment charges. with their best interests in mind, he tells them they have to quit solving mysteries. the scene worked, but it wasn’t very realistic. legally speaking, you can’t arrest someone for driving in their van (as this guy threatened to do).

next we see the three minute long scene that was released as a promotional clip on youtube of the garage sale at what i assume was daphne’s house, despite being tiny. a man named bernie alan tries to buy some stuff off them, but his check bounces (a reoccurring joke throughout the rest of the movie). vincent calls, tells them he needs help- blah blah blah.

daphne introduces the gang to her own van- which nearly sends fred over the fucking moon. especially when he can’t drive it because it’s a stick shift and, as we all know, FRED JONES CAN’T DRIVE STICK. honestly, that boy is adorable.

so daphne drives as fred sleeps on her shoulder like the angel he is- but things go awry when a car surrounded by green smoke tries to run them off the road. we find out why this is later, but it doesn’t.... really make much sense.

they get to vincent’s house, daphne and fred bicker some more, and shaggy decides to head off with scooby in search of snack-shaped clues. daphne asks velma to keep an eye on “lewis and bark” leaving her alone with fred. her crystal ball starts glowing, and they follow it throughout the mansion. velma, shaggy, and scooby have some classic mishaps, while fred and daphne do some classic fraphne things, such as forgetting that two people can walk next to eachother, and entrapment, and undermining each other’s intelligence. they all meet back up when velma and the boys fall through the ceiling and land on top of them. (shaggy jokes, “mind if we drop in?”) they find vincent, as well as the demon asmodeus, and this is where things start to kick off. vincent tells shaggy and daphne to trap asmodeus in the chest of demons, but shaggy says that he mailed it to vincent’s place in the himalayas when school started. vincent explains that it wasn’t his home, but rather an air b&b he’d rented at the time, and that he never got it- so they have to fly to the himalayas to track down the chest in the mail.

you know how movies and tv shows that can’t afford the rights to certain brands will use cute little puns- to tell the audience what they’re talking about without saying the real trademark? it’s done multiple times in the movie, but in a way that’s very self aware. vincent refers to his air b&b as an “air boo & boo,” his iphone as a “die phone,” and countless others that i forget. but everyone around him is like “oh my fucking god can you talk normally please-” telling the audience that they were staying at an actual air b&b without having to use the name- but still being normal about it. it was a nice touch. as was “captain rogers, not for vanity reasons, but because when you have the lives of so many people in your hands, it’s better to think of yourself as the office and not the man- and also a little bit for vanity.” that’s right, folks, shaggy flies the plain. and it’s golden.

when they land in the himalayas, the first thing they notice is bernie alan, the check bouncing fiend. they decide to split up- shaggy, scooby, daphne and vincent follow him to the temple, while fred and velma go searching for the lost package. the next bit of the movie cuts between the two storylines, but i’ll just tell them separatley.

fred and velma show up at a deserted post office, and naturally go rummaging through the back to find shaggy’s lost package. instead, flim flam catches fred in a net. i don’t think we ever learn why he was in the post office. flim flam takes them to the novelty store he works at and shows them his various chest of demons memorabilia (mostly coolers, which he’s only ever sold one of) but when fred says they’re looking for the real thing, he brings them to his ghost-hunting store instead. fred finds a cool scooter and asks to drive it- to which flim flam replies “sure! you can drive stick shift, right?” luckily he’s only kidding and fred get’s to destroy the scooter in the background while velma and flim flam argue over the existence of ghosts. fred and velma leave, and fred admits to velma that he feels useless now that daphne’s stolen his job as the leader. he even laments that he “can’t even do background shenanigans right!!!!!” before the scene has the oppurtunity to become cute and uplifting, the two of them get snatched into the air by an unknown force.

daphne’s crew are following bernie alan, but he manages to lose them. before they know it, they’re being stalked by the same car that tried to run them off the road earlier. the car’s loud engine starts an avalanche, resulting in the world’s longest “oh no!! we’re falling down a mountain!!” bit- which is then followed by a second identical bit as the car causes another avalanche immediately after the first. they wind up trapped in the temple with asmodeus and the chest of demons. there’s a cute little musical chase scene to a super catchy disco song, and a slightly uncomfortable bit where shaggy and scooby dress as monks. asmodeus tries to kill them, but vincent uses his magic to beam daphne, shaggy and scooby out.

daphne is about to break down sobbing because she thinks vincent is dead- when suddenly velma and fred fall from the sky. fred, being the little fucking legend he is, says “mind if we drop in?” they’re all down in the dumps for various reasons, and daphne says that it’s time to go home, and that there’s nothing more they can do. seeing his gang about top give up, fred reveals his darkest secret: while daphne and shaggy were catching the ghosts, he wasn’t just at any camp- he was at CHEER CAMP. THE ONLY KIND OF LEADER FRED IS IS A CHEERLEADER. it’s funny at first- hysterical in fact- but he does a cheer that lasts just long enough for everyone (characters and audience alike) to start feeling sad for him. but freddy jones is flippin away, doing back tucks over daphne’s head and throwing her in the air, and his enthusiasm encourages daphne to make a plan to catch asmodeus.

fred and velma head back to flim flam’s shop to ask for his help (but mostly his gear) and fred realises that the reason he can’t drive stick is because he’s been trying to use the parking break instead of the clutch. now he’s hell on wheels, and manages to run the random car that’s been following them off the road and into the abyss below.

meanwhile, daphne, shaggy and scooby skydive down into the temple from above (”i can’t jump out of a plane!” “that’s okay, i’m going to push you!”) and find vincent. they link up with fred, velma and flim flam, and the latter jokes that all they need now is scrappy, to which velma asks “what’s a scrappy???” and there’s nothing better than the idea of a timeline in which daphne and shaggy just kept scrappy’s existence a secret all these years.

vincent reveals that asmodeus is actually his dead relative, which is cool, but everything goes downhill when they realise that asmodeus is a fake, and that he’s actually mortifer, vincent’s supposed dead lover, wearing a suit. then bernie alan the check bouncer is actually an interpol officer slash figure skater, and the swat team shows up.... they really lost me there. it was a disappointing resolution to say the least.

the final scene was probably my favorite. the gang are loading up the plane, and fred and daphne stare off into the sunset, and fred tells daphne that he’s been wrong about her all along, and that she’s such a capable leader, and that she’s the engine that makes the gang run. daphne replies “i might be the engine, but you’ll always be the driver” which is equally as adorable as it is true. they give eachother MAJOR HEART EYES, but fred- physically unable to let a heartfelt moment last more than three seconds- pulls away and asks if captain rogers will let him try flying the plain. daphne says sure, but only if he promises to stay away from the parking break. fred shakes his fist at god and curses velma’s name.

velma explains to everyone that ghosts aren’t real and that the 13 ghosts were all a hallucination, which..... fuck everyone involved in that decision. we realise that the chest shaggy mailed was actually the one cooler sold by flim flam (a nice touch). to prove her point, velma almost opens the actual chest of demons for funsies but thinks better of it, and then the gang hits the skies, where they’re all flabbergasted to find that scooby doo is the one flying the plane. the end.

it’s a good movie, no doubt- and was almost a perfect one. everything seemed to crash and burn as the demon turned out to be fake, and then everything else was fake, and then bernie alan was a figure skater in a fat suit... for some reason. had they gone with literally any other ending, it would have been great.

the fraphne subpot felt a little underwhelming... maybe it’s just that i’m a hardcore shipper, but i felt like the resolution to their plot wasn’t big enough. they spent the whole movie building tension- i was sort of picturing that they’d have a big fight. but... nope. he just did a few backflips and everything was peachy.

again, i loved the movie. i don’t know if i’d put it in the top five, but definitely in the top ten. it had a lot of fun aspects and great character building. i’m really excited for return to zombie island, but also kind of scared. first of all, how do you make a sequel to something that happens when they’re 30 when they’re only 17?? also... pls don’t make the cat creatures fake. also... *slides writers a 20*.... fraphne kiss. just sayin.

#scooby doo #curse of the 13th ghost #fred jones #shaggy rogers #daphne blake #velma dinkley #fraphne #vincent van ghoul #flim flam #not an incorrect quote

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albertineingomorrah · 5 years

Text

part one of two, written early AM and too lazy to edit

I recently remembered that my mother sent me to a real therapist when I turned 18. This is touching, because the only other time my mental health was speculated at and attended to- was when I turned 15 and it became clear that I had been religiously throwing up my food after every meal. (I mean, are we even women if we haven’t endured a bout of bulimia? note* sarcasm)

At the time, my mother thought it best to send me to a Counselor. This level of health care would prove to be different from respectable therapy in several ways, aside from the deeply discounted (comparative) rates.

According to my memory and without bothering to look up the specifics. The two most notable differences were as follows; the counselor whose office was run out of a church, and with whom my appointments befittingly always coincided with a local AA meeting- was able to demand that I pray with her at the beginning of every session.

This was something I did not enjoy, and sought to thwart as I found it to be altogether a disregard for my- at the time- militant Atheism.

( On that topic, I have softened over the years- holding a small seed of fear that my actions will be held against me at the time of my death- I think it is more often fear, rather than feelings of perceived love which move us all to marinade in the idea of a god).

The second but related identifier was that she was also able to bring up biblical teachings; turning to the Bible often, to help guide her toward the epitomize ideal of wellness.

I remember feeling conflicted about these visits, both pleased that my mother was taking notice of me, and frustration that this was her solution.

In one most shudder worthy experience, I remember that both parents joined me for a session. This had come as an unexpected and somewhat unwelcome surprise. I had climbed into the passenger seat of my mothers car, only to be redirected to the back.

On the drive over I was confronted with the reality of what this counselor was clearly hoping to accomplish with this little group outing and I remember feeling vaguely bad for her, knowing the madness that I was sure would unveil itself in front of this wildly unqualified woman.

My mother and father sat on either side of me, and it gave a certain feeling of entrapment in the small office. I remember watching a Bluejay dive bombing a smaller bird out of the second floor window.

The silence was broken by the sound of clearing throats. “So” the salt and pepper curls on her head bounced confidently, as she addressed us all with her most welcoming smile. “How about we start with a prayer?” She offered this idea like it was an obvious fist step.

Resigned, I lowered my head. Hearing my father scoff, I felt mildly amused that he would be subjected to something that he felt uncomfortable with, and wondered if the joy at this discomfort could carry my through the next 45 minutes.

After the essentials had been dealt with, the woman looked sweetly from my mother to my father. “Let’s get this show on the road” she said, looking so smugly certain of her abilities ( she probably didn’t actually say it in those exact terms, but I like the way I remember her being the type of person to use these pithy little one-liners.

Things started off moderately well, my parents doing most of the talking. My father and his proverbial ax to grind, lamenting his own childhood abuses. These were not new to me, and at fifteen I had already relived these childhood traumas with my father on multiple occasions. Though this was the first time he had recounted them In a sober fashion. It wasn’t until the conversation turned to the relationship that my father had with me, that things went south. “ So, how close are you with your own daughter?” the wannabe therapist prodded, a well timed question after a vehement admission that he had always felt estranged from his father.

For the first time he looked at my mother, then turning back he said

” That is because of a dream my daughter had when she was a child” both my mother and I looked at one another and there was an odd look of horror that registered on my mother's face.

As if to say, “ oh god, surely he wouldn’t bring that up”, but I was curious, and I turned to face him more fully. “ Clearly having an audience was fanning the flames of drama within him, looking away from us all once more- he continued. “ my daughter began having dreams that I was molesting her when she was four and she told my wife. My stomach dropped as In the dark reassess of my mind I fathomed a memory that fit his story. I did recall having nightmares like that. I remember telling my mother a dream about my father, but I had also thought it was reasonable that as a child I’d had nightmares about him- as I was terribly frightened of him as a little girl.

Going as far as to hide in the closet when he stayed home to watch me. I’m assuming that my toddler instincts had encompassed his drunken behavior toward my mother and processed him as a threat. I remembered him finding reasons to hit me. Like the time he came to pick me up from my mothers-mother. (Who spoiled me deliciously.) She was often tasked with watching me, while my parents worked. She was my favorite person in the world.

I recall feeling as if I was being ripped from the only safe place I had ever known, every time I was picked up from her house. I also remember sitting next to her hospice bed at the age of 6, in that very same house. Unable to take my eyes off her hollow, sickly face- such a deep contrast from the rounded, pink cheeks she always utilized to smile at me, she had died young, not even 60.

I remember balling my little fists into her blankets listening to the adults trying to divide up the assets of her house before her body was even cold. Finally unable to listen any longer I slipped away and wandered to the kitchen, where her favorite rooster shaped salt and pepper shakers sat unused, on the kitchen table. I quickly pilfered them. Hiding one in each large pockets of my pre-owned raincoat sitting by the front door.

Anyway, once my father had called me down from the neighbors play set, the neighbor across the street from my grandmother, the young mother would let me join her children on the ever coveted set of swings and slide.

Positioned in the tower, I felt the windfall of air exit my chest as I heard his voice, immediately and without thinking, my legs disappeared from the slide they had been about to descend.

Pulling my knees up close I shut my eyes, childishly believing I could just live there. When I got hungry or tired my grandmother would let me come home to her. The fever dream swept me up, and in the moment I was lost In the fantasy of living with my grandmother full-time. “Get your ass down here” his voice was filled with venom and I scrambled down the slide. Running over, hoping I would have acted quickly enough to avoid serious trouble. As we walked to his blue- Ford truck, he gave nothing away and I settled In to the passenger seat, feeling the sadness that I normally felt upon leaving my favorite place.

He had not let me say goodbye. I looked over just in time to see his hand collide with what should have been the back of my head, but ended up being my cheek/forehead. He swore loudly and began to shout.

When he calmed down he informed me that I would be punished later that evening for my disobedience and sent me to bed without dinner. As I lay in bed- knowing he would come to my bedroom and knowing it was going to be painful, I would conjure up the fantasy of living with my grandmother. He would always make a game out of loudly stomping up the stairs to my room- but only halfway, so I would begin to tremble, and cry. Then he would go back down the stairs. He could do that a dozen times on a bad night, working me up to a hysterical frenzy of fear and tears.

Then he would burst through the door, pull me out of bed, hitting me hard enough to leave bruises. He never used a belt or a spoon as my mother did, and also unlike my mother he would always remove my pants.

I ruminated on all of this as the room rang silent after his somewhat shocking statement.

“So, your daughter was having night terrors and your wife took her dreams seriously, which put a divide between her and yourself?” the woman tried to supply. Attempting to keep this conversation going. I looked over at my mother whose head was hung and hand clasped tightly in her lap. Not looking up.

“Yes, that’s it.” He assented.

Looking vindicated that someone finally understood.

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thatlesbiannudistcult-stories · 5 years

Text

Finding Goddess (Chapter 14)

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT!

Carol was dead. There was no getting around it. There would be no talking her way out of this one. She would get reported. She would lose her job. She would go to jail. She would get registered as a sex offender, no one would ever hire her again, her daughters would be taken away, and they would never want to see her. And all because of...because of...because of that damn lesbian nudist cult messing with her mind!

Should never have listened to Henrietta, should never have gone to that Temple, should never have fallen for that sexy bitch, Celeste, should have just stayed home, and clothed, and...

"HELLOOOOOO?" said the irritated (and irritating) Elaine. "Are you going all narcoleptic on me?"

"Huh? Wha?" stammered Carol as she shook herself out of her head. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"Ugh, seriously?" growled Elaine like she had just been asked the most obvious thing in the world. "I mean you, like, just stopped talking and started staring into space like a space case."

Carol could only look at the younger woman in utter bewilderment. Are you kidding me? I'm sitting here completely naked, and she's yelling at me for blanking out? Don't tell me she doesn't actually notice...

"You're doing it again!" shouted Elaine, who couldn't help but turn her head away with a sneer of disgust. "Ugh, just my luck, here they are, a multimillion dollar company, and the only thing they can afford to give me is a senile old lady."

"S-senile?" said Carol, partially in confusion and partially in indignation. She was getting half a mind to bend this overgrown brat over her knee and smack her bottom good for that remark. That urge was only stopped by the other half of her mind wanting to ask aloud why Elaine didn't seem to care that Carol didn't have any clothes on.

Maybe she's known some old people who became so forgetful, they forgot to dress themselves? Has that ever been a thing? And if it is...IS SHE COMPARING ME TO THEM?

The urge to smack Elaine grew stronger in Carol's mind.

"Are you going to tell me why you're not publishing my book yet or not?" whined the blonde as she practically stomped her butt on the chair opposite Carol. "I don't have all day to deal with your old woman problems."

"Uh...right. Right," Carol growled, clenching her teeth, her fists, and her buttocks tight to keep herself from standing up and walloping the girl. But she still couldn't help but be baffled. Did Elaine really not care about her nudity? Was she just that self-absorbed that she...

Looking at the impatient little priss on the other side of the desk, Carol finally put two and two together; she was sitting in front of a pretty big monitor. So big that all she could see of her company's client from her current position was her head and neck. Is that it? Could the monitor be blocking my nudity?

"So what's the deal?" Elaine said with a petulant huff. "Why aren't you publishing my book? I bet you didn't give Dad half the trouble you're giving me."

Yes, that had to be it. The monitor was definitely blocking Carol's nudity from sight. She was sitting just a couple feet away from a girl half her age naked as the day she was born, and said girl didn't suspect a thing! Carol would have laughed if she wasn't trembling so much out of fearful irritation and irritated fear.

Still, it meant she wasn't nearly as dead as she thought she was. She was close, teetering on the edge, ready to slip and fall any minute...but she was still standing. There was still a chance to get through this. A slim chance, but a chance nonetheless.

"I can't...I can't say precisely how much so-called 'trouble' Mr. Cassidy was given when he first, when he first approached Trilo...Trilo Publishing," said Carol through gritted teeth. "I wasn't...I wasn't working here at the time. But I assure...I assure you, every author has to go through our rigorous editing process in order to...in order to ensure our high standards of, high standards of...quality."

Damn it, now Carol wanted to smack herself. She was trying to stay cool, trying to maintain a professional front, but speaking in the right tone, at the right pace, at the right volume, without stuttering in her current state was...impossible. She was naked. Bare ass naked and the world was doing its absolute damnedest to remind her of that fact every waking second. Cool air was caressing every inch of her naked skin, the fabric of her discarded clothing was digging into the bare soles of her feet, and her butt cheeks were flattening into the plush faux leather of her chair. And if she made one wrong move, fidgeted an inch too high, revealed one bare shoulder, it was over!

"But I've done plenty of editing!" said Elaine. "I removed lots of pages from the book just like you told me to."

Carol took a deep breath as she gathered her thoughts, tried to keep her mind on her job and not on her nudity. It didn't help; she could feel a very slight but still very telltale jiggle in her breasts as her chest inflated. "You didn't...you didn't remove enough," she said. "There is still...there is still a lot of...unnecessary content in your manuscript that adds nothing to the story and only pads out its...pads out its length. And there are lots of sections...lots of sections...that I specifically told you to get rid of, but which are still present in the text!"

She resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably in her chair, leaving herself to stew just as uncomfortably in her upright position. Damn it, this was hell, but she had to keep it up. She had to remain stern, no matter how naked she felt, literally and figuratively.

"But everything in my book is important!" said Elaine. "I wouldn't have written them in if they weren't!"

Air seeped out between Carol's teeth in a low hiss. She really wanted to sit up straight just to adopt a more commanding stance, as well as give her butt a little breathing room on the faux leather. But she couldn't. "How is...how listing every little grocery the protagonist is putting away on page 34 important for the story?" she seethed. "How is describing every little pen stroke she makes in her diary on page 86 important for the story? How is the ten-page, ten-page conversation she has with the hippo on daffodils important? And if all the events of chapters 12 to 18 are a dream, why did we...why did we need to have them in the first place? And the part with the camels in the clown car...what, what WAS that about? I still don't know, and I read that section 50 Goddess-damned...50 God-damned times!”

"You obviously haven't been reading it very thoroughly then," huffed Elaine. "The heroine, Ellen Cassandra, is bored with the humdrum of her life..."

Oh Goddess, here we go again with another one of her ARTISTE speeches. Carol kept her hands planted firmly on her desk to keep herself from face-palming.

"Every item of nourishment she picks up and puts away," Elaine continued, "represents another boring drone in her life. The milk is the time in her limited lifespan being squeezed out of her like from the teats of a cow by the demands of her job, her classes, her parents, and her obligations. The juice is the phony face she is forced to wear for the benefit of the world that can't handle her beautiful and unique identity! The bananas represent her entrapment in a male-dominated world..."

"You don't put bananas in the fridge," Carol groaned. Goddess, it was unbearable sitting nakedly in this seat listening to this drivel. She needed to move, stand up, stretch her legs out, slap Elaine, masturbate. But she couldn't do any of those things in her current state.

But...she couldn't sit still either.

To hell with it, she silently grumbled, finally taking a moment to lift one of her legs up. She winced as she felt her skin peel off the leather-like material in her chair like a stubborn band-aid, and after making sure her chatty tormenter hadn't noticed anything amiss, she crossed it over her other leg. It seemed to do the trick; changing her position did help alleviate her stiffness somewhat. It also gave her some level of modesty, or at least, she hoped it did. This was how women typically sat to keep peeping toms from seeing their unmentionables after all.

"In this, I let the reader experience the boredom Ellen feels, and instill in them the same thrill of adventure that she seeks!" said Elaine, who sounded like she was winding down on her spiel. "It is my way of instilling a sense of empathy between the reader and the heroine in a way no author has ever done before! Now look me in the eye and tell me that isn't genius?"

"You're not...you're not going to make anyone empathize with your protagonist with this," Carol almost said 'shit' but caught herself before her teeth so much as clamped together. "You're just going to bore them and make them put the book down. Have you even read this thing yourself?"

"I don't need to," said Elaine. "I wrote it! That means I understand it more intimately than everybody else!"

Carol could feel her every muscle clench with repressed rage, including those in her hands, her arms, her back, and even her buttocks. It was a sensation a woman could only feel in her natural state. "No, it just means...ohhhhh!"

Crap, she slid her legs too sensually against one another. Her thighs got tickled, and a faint tingle slithered up from her crotch to her spine. She just...she just turned herself on. Damn her getting aroused by her own nakedness!

"M-moving on," gasped Carol as she reached for her coffee, only to flinch in slight pain when her fingers wrapped around the mug. Even after all this time, it was still too hot to drink. "You...you do a really bad job at making the protagonist's l-love and at-attraction to the male lead feel ge-genuine...ahhhhh!"

Another tingle. Another full-bodied shiver. Shit, crossing her legs was a terrible idea. She forgot how sensitive her thighs could get, and with her clit starting to peer out from its hood, she was practically masturbating doing this!

"What do you mean?" said Elaine, who didn't appear the least bit affected by Carol's outburst. "I described allllllll the ways she loved him! All the physical parts, all the parts of his mind! I said everything a girl would ever possibly think to love a guy. Every little word and syllable. I spent, like, three whole days writing them down! So don't think for a moment that I rushed that part because I didn't!"

"That's...exactly the problem," said Carol between her breaths as she fought against her own body to stay in control. "You...over-thought it. Girls...in love...don't think. Love isn't...love isn't...a lot of excessive thoughts or...words. It's...it's...ugghhh!"

She finally found the wherewithal to uncross her legs, sliding one thigh off the other quick and abruptly, like how she learned to take off a bandage, hoping it would be swift and painless. It wasn't. It sent another jolt up her body, tickling her clit so hotly it nearly caused her to jump in the air. Had Carol not taken a firm hold of her desk, she likely would have jumped and shown her client her great, heaving bosoms with their hard and erect nipples standing at attention.

Stay calm, Carol. Stay calm, stay calm, for the love of the Goddess, stay calm!

"It's what?" growled Elaine impatiently.

Carol's loins were still tingling, her inner muscles were still clenching, demanding to be stroked, petted, licked, sucked, stimulated in any way. The urge to drive her fingers into her moistening sex was growing stronger, but Carol held firm, tightening the already vice-like grip she was maintaining on her desk.

"It...love is...it's feeling. Sssssensation," Carol breathed. "Desire. Reluctance. Warmth. Heat. F-feeeeeaaaarrrrrr. It's not...it's not something you just...make a whole bunch of metaphors for...not in...not in my...experience. Uh...huuuhhhhh..."

It was getting harder to concentrate. She was tingling hot down there, her hips seemed to have gained a will of their own as they thrust themselves back and forth in her chair, and her pussy was dripping like a leaky faucet all over the faux leather. And despite all her attempts to keep her mind on the job, she couldn't stop herself from thinking sexy thoughts. Like being naked in public. Having sex with her best friend, Henrietta. Giving Katy more of that 'motherly affection' she enjoyed so much. Letting Celeste ravish her in the grotto.

Seeing Zenriah with her own eyes and making love to the Goddess Herself.

"Mmmmmmm!" she murmured, digging her nails that much deeper into her desk, leaving deep welts in the polished mahogany surface.

"Uh...are you okay?" said Elaine, who for the first time was starting to look visibly worried. It lasted for only a few seconds. "Damn it, are you even listening to me?" she barked, pounding a frustrated fist on the desk. Everything on it rattled, the monitor, the keyboard, the mouse, and the still too hot cup of coffee.

"Y-yes!" gasped Carol as the sudden tremor shook her awake. "I'm fine. I'm perfectly...perfectly...fine!"

"I should hope so," said Elaine. "Because it doesn't look like you're all there. Ugh, I can barely understand a thing you're saying."

The younger girl slumped back in her seat with that same air of melodramatic annoyance she always projected. "I'm never going to get published at this rate. How can I write what you want me to if I can't even understand what you're saying?"

Even in her uncomfortable horniness, Carol couldn't help but blink. Did her ears deceive her? Did Elaine actually say she wanted some real feedback in her own bratty, backhanded way? Carol didn't want to get too excited, but in her current state, she'd take any kind of relief she could get.

"Well, it's...hard to explain...what it's like to be in love," she said, deciding to at least act like she was understanding. Maybe if she acted kindly to Elaine, rather than critical, her words would get through to her. She could only hope. "I can't say that it's the same for...everyone. And maybe I'm being too harsh when I say that everything in your manuscript on the subject of love and attraction is wrong. I don't think it's...I don't think it's that unusual to maybe think a few offbeat things that don't make a whole lick of sense when you're love-struck."

She paused to catch her breath, and readjust her position in her chair as minutely as she could to not betray her nudity to her client. She also waited a moment for Elaine to give her a response, but when all she got was an inquisitive eyebrow from the blonde, Carol decided that was her cue to continue.

"But...the thing is...you go...overboard with it. With all the...overwrought and poem-like descriptions. It's all a bit...excessive. And boring. You say that you write everything a girl in love would possibly think, but that's just it...no girl is ever going to think all those ridiculous things. There just isn't...time for that. And then there's the sentence structure, the repetition, the grammar mistakes, the..."

"But...but they all just seem so important!" whined the younger girl. "And...and I have no choice but to use them all because..." She trailed off.

"Because?" Carol asked, bracing herself. It looked like her strategy was working. Elaine was being unprofessional as always, but instead of voicing her thoughts out loud with that usual haughty tone of indignation, she was instead talking as if she had doubt. Not in others, but herself. Okay, that was just a nice way to say she was whining, but still, progress was progress.

"Because...because they're the best I can think of! I can't imagine any other way to describe Ellen's feelings!" cried Elaine, and she pounded the desk again with another frustrated punch. "Damn it!"

Carol was about to tell the girl (loudly) to stop banging on her desk, when she felt something very wet and something very hot splash all over her stomach, her thighs, and into the very sensitive area in her groin. It took her only a second to realize why; that last vibration tipped her mug off the edge of her desk and caused her coffee to spill all over her! With a startled cry, the naked woman bolted up to her feet in a vain attempt to escape the deluge that already claimed her. Her chair rolled backwards, her toes dug into the fabrics of her discarded clothes on the floor, her breasts bounced tantalizingly in the air, and...

Carol stared at Elaine. Elaine stared back at her. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was agape as she took in the sight before her. At Carol's pale skin. At the brown liquid dripping off of it. At the dark patch of hair between her legs. At her large boobs. At her fully erect nipples. At her every...little...inch...of completely...naked...nakedness!

Carol could only stand where she stood, as still as a statue. She couldn't say anything to explain herself. She couldn't drop down to the floor to hide herself. She couldn't even cry out from the sizzling, burning pain she was supposed to be feeling from the hot coffee dribbling off her flesh. A part of her couldn't help but be stunned by the fact that she honestly couldn't feel any pain actually. But the other part of Carol was quick to remind her of something far more important than the pain she was not feeling.

I'm dead. For real this time.

Wordlessly, Elaine stood up, rounded the desk, and approached Carol. Her expression was uncharacteristically mute, her mood completely unreadable. She stopped barely a foot away from the older woman and just stared at her. She looked Carol up. She looked Carol down. She took in every detail of the older woman's anatomy. Carol dared not meet her gaze, averting her eyes every time they passed over own. Nor did she dare to move. Like frightened prey caught in the shadow of a hungry predator, she stood still as death, the only movement on her coming from the drops of hot coffee dribbling down her skin.

She finally twitched when Elaine's hands, without warning, took hold of her waist. Now, they were slow and gentle, but to Carol's hypersensitive mind, they might as well have horse-whipped her. Elaine ran them down her form, tracing the naked woman's widening hips and firm buttocks. Carol bit her lip to keep herself from moaning as her cheeks were lightly tickled, though she couldn't suppress the quiver she felt shaking throughout her delectable orbs. It shamed her to admit it, but Elaine had some pretty graceful fingers.

Seemingly satisfied with her butt, Elaine slid her hands upward, gliding her fingers silkily over the bare flesh on Carol's sides before stopping right above her breasts. They jiggled slightly as the nude woman abruptly caught her breath in her throat, partially out of fear and anticipation over what would happen next, and partially out of arousal. She was still so horny from sitting in the nude in her own workplace for so long, and getting touched by this young, bratty, irritating, immature hotty with the brilliant golden locks and baby blue eyes and the C-cup boobs hidden neatly under her business jacket was just...

"Hah!" Carol cried out again when Elaine suddenly grabbed hold of her breasts. She kneaded the great spheres of flesh in her hands, squished and squeezed them between her fingers like putty, pressed them together, pulled them apart, watched how they rose and fell in her grasp, traced circles around the rosy red areolas that surrounded the hardened nubs.

What is she, AH, doing to me? thought Carol as she let out another pleasurable cry. She's, AH, touching me. Feeling me up. OH! Massaging, groping, fondling me. AH! Oh Goddess, it feels so...

"That's it!" Elaine shouted with sudden excitement. "This is the kind of sensation a woman in love feels! I think...I think I can now find the words to properly describe my protagonist's feelings! Looks like you were of some use after all, old lady!"

Old...lady? Carol was hornier than ever now and fighting every urge to cram her hands into her pussy, but even in that haze, she still felt a tinge of annoyance at her client. I'll show you, uhhhh...what this old lady can—

She didn't have enough time to finish that thought. For Elaine suddenly seized her head and planted a big, grateful kiss on her lips! "I'll get started right away," she proclaimed as she hurried out the door. "My book will be ready for publishing the next time you see me! I guarantee it!" And just like that, she was out the door.

For a moment, Carol could only stare blankly ahead of her. What the hell just happened? She exposed herself to Elaine, let herself get felt up, and Elaine was...happy about that? That didn't...how did...why was...

"I don't understand anything at all!" she wailed, throwing her hands up in the air before letting gravity take hold. Her chair bounced fitfully as her body collapsed into it, giving her breasts another healthy bounce before settling into serene stillness. Nothing was making sense anymore! When had she taken off her clothes? Why did she? What had Elaine found so fascinating about her naked body? Why did—she looked down at her thighs, which were still damp from the coffee spill and getting sticky as it dried up—WHY DIDN'T THE COFFEE HURT HER? It had cooled off, yes, but it was still blistering when it hit her. She knew it had been, she felt the heat, but it...it didn't bother her. Not one bit. Hell, it didn't look like it burned any inch of her skin at all!

"Something's...happening to me," she whispered feeling her heart pound against her chest. "Something...uhhhhh...ohhhhhh...ahhhh...AHHHHH!"

Her thoughts were interrupted by the tingling in her loins that was coming back in full force. In the growing wetness, heat, and throbbing in her inner being that was demanding her attention, that she could no longer ignore and no longer had any reason to.

"Goddess," she uttered as her right hand slithered over her sex and upon her swollen clit. "Oh G-hooooooddeeeessssssssss!"

She rubbed her little bud of love, ran it in circles in the palm of her hand, let a familiar and very distinctive wet, schlicking sound ring out of her. "I'm cumming! Goddess, I'm cumming now! I'm cumming! I'M CUMMING!"

Carol would cum many more times before she finally saw fit to leave the Writer's Room.

#finding goddess #carol

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