#while both have probably the same amount of knowledge about things like drug use and what not

[dragonroilz]

ive been looking at the female merc concepts that valve made back in the day and it really made me think about how a lot of the more popular female mercs are just genderbends of the original mercs.

nothing wrong with that, obviously, but i think it's infinitely more fascinating to treat them as their own characters since if valve had gone through with female mercs, theyd probably exist alongside the ones in the game.

anyways, meet the medic! she's a physician from britain who practices "natural medicine". not with normal things like herbs. stuff like "you have a cold? well, they say that drinking a single drop of lava from a volcano will fix you right up! ill go ahead and write a prescription~"

she has a belief that modern medicine is wrong and wants to change it from inside of the system. not because she thinks patient care can be improved, but because crystal tonic has medicinal value guys. trust me.

in addition to that, she's got a real fascination with the spiritual and demonic. after all, who cares about how you attain immortality? you have your entire unnatural lifespan to smooth out the rough parts!

have some rough sketches for when i was searching for a design too!

[crazycookiecrumbles]

Helado de Coco

A/N:  Feedback. Reblogs appreciated, thanks!

Pairings/Characters: Frank Castle x Reader/Stark!Reader; Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Tony Stark

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Just as you’re making plans to deal with whatever is happening with Frank, you’re caught by surprise.

Sequel to: Bread Pudding

WC: 2,603

You were not paying attention in the slightest. Your mind was anywhere else but there. Your sneaking around with Bruce had you both up at strange hours (strange because you were trying to keep it from your father, who barely slept as it is) and you were just…confused. Between the two of you, the amount of archaeological knowledge you had was equivalent to watching the Indiana Jones films half a dozen times. It was a lot of research, and coming up with a ton of dead ends.

“Well, Greece was ransacked enough by just about everyone for all their, you know, history,” you sighed and scratched the top of your head. “I should check museums of all those colonizers since it was last spotted there a few centuries ago.”

You felt a towel slap you in the face. Whining, you rubbed your cheek and looked up to see Steve giving you a stern look. You scoffed, “What?!”

“We’re supposed to be rehabbing your knee, not doing one of your experiments. Turn off your brain for just a second,” Steve told you, holding out an elastic band for you to start stretching with.

You huffed, “Why are you rehabbing my knee, anyway? You’re not a licensed physician.”

“He’s not, but he’s been beaten up so many times he can pretty much be an honorary doctor by this point,” Bucky joked as he strode over and leaned against the wall. “What are you talking about, anyway? What’s up with Greece?”

“Nothing, nothing, just something I’m working on,” you waved your hand dismissively while Bucky rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that look.”

“You not sharing things is a bad sign,” Bucky said. “You know who else does that same shit? Steve.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I do not.”

“Full of shit, that’s what you are. Full of shit,” Bucky shoved Steve jokingly on his shoulder and turned to you again. “So what is it? Is this actually just an elaborate coverup for you to go on a vacation with Castle?”

“No…” you trailed ff, eyes widening at the thought. “That’s a good one, though. I’ll use that.”

“And I’m sure Tony will love it,” Steve chimed in. “Come on, what’s going on? You and Banner have been acting very shady, lately.”

You scoffed. You were going to argue about this, but when you looked up, Steve and Bucky were glaring at you waiting for a real answer. You sighed and looked around to make sure no one else was in the gym before you spoke, “This doesn’t go back to Tony.”

“Even better,” Bucky quipped. “What is it?”

You chewed on your lip as you considered just how insane this sounded, “So there was some pottery, likely dating back to Ancient Greece, like, for real, based on the experts we consulted with, uh…it was part of that shipment Tony and I went to check on. Didn’t realize that was the big prize.”

Steve frowned, “The Bratva Boys getting into art theft?”

“I don’t think those morons knew what it was. They probably thought it was hiding drugs or something, but, uh…so Frank kind of shattered it, a bunch of red dust came out and went inside him, and if you thought he was a beast before, he’s much, much more murderous after that.”

“Shit,” both soldiers swore as they listened to this.

“Oh, and it gets better. We took a piece of it back that night, right? Next day, it was whole again as if it wasn’t obliterated into bits and pieces.”

Steve cleared his throat and glanced to Bucky who shook his head, raised his hands, said he was tapping out, and went to go lift weights, muttering that ‘spooky shit’ was not on his agenda that day. Steve rolled his eyes and sat down on the bench next to you.

“Did you tell Frank you’re concerned?”

“No…I’m not sure what that’ll do to him. He felt completely fine, nothing showed up on any scans. All we have to go on is what I’ve seen.”

Steve nodded in understanding. “Okay. And your research?”

“Lots, and lots, and lots of dead ends, dead people, and a mysterious vase floating through the planet.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Hence, why I’m thinking I’ll have to do some footwork.”

“Right. Footwork. In this condition.”

“I’m mostly better!” You scoffed. “I’ll take Bruce with me, it’ll be fine! Two science-y people doing research-y things. Sheesh. Are we done?” You asked over Steve’s slight chuckling.

“Considering you barely did anything? Sure, go on. Your knee is completely fine.”

“Sarcasm, on you, Captain?” You shook your head as you stood up from the bench, “Unbecoming, really. I expected more from you.”

You quickly skirted away before he could once again hit you with the small towel. You made your way over to your office space. Blacking out all the windows, you sat down and started working on trying to find anything else about the vase, and tried to look into this more. Honestly, this was going nowhere.

You needed an expert and you knew it. Bruce knew it too, but everyone who actually came into contact with it appeared to be unreachable. Harvard University had some information about it, but there’s was a collection of data sourced from other people, which they hadn’t definitively proven to be true or untrue. You realized that, maybe, your best bet was taking this vase with you and going to an expert. The British Museum’s current and most popular exhibit was on Ancient Egypt, but you saw they had an entire section on Greek Vases, which meant there had to be an expert there you could make an appointment with, right? Some use had to come out of your last name. 

This was fine. You could take Bruce to the British Museum and find out what the fuck was going on with this stupid vase. This was a fine plan, a totally good plan indeed.

Clearing your throat and putting your feet up on your desk, you brought your phone to your ear and stared up at the ceiling as you listened to it ring. You frowned when no one answered. Just as you were about to send a message, you received one yourself.

Come outside.

Chewing on your lip and trying to hide the growing smile, you stood up, went to the elevator, and made your way out to the back of the tower where Frank’s creepy little van was waiting. You were surprised when you saw Frank. It’d been a few days but he seemed…painfully well, which feels insulting, but, really, for someone who’d been on a murder bender, he looked fantastic and refreshed.

“Wow,” you muttered as you walked towards him. “You wear death well for someone who has been eliminating an entire gang these last few days. Dare I say, you look like you’ve been sleeping full 8-hour nights!”

Frank chuckled and shook his head as he walked closer to meet you halfway, “Yeah? What would you say if I told you it’s been, maybe, two hours a night.”

“I’d be horrified and also very impressed with the lack of bags under your eyes,” you murmured and draped your arms around his shoulders as you drew him in closer and your noses touched. “Are you okay?”

Frank chuckled. Shutting his eyes, he tilted his head to the side and pressed his lips against yours, large hands sliding down your back and resting at your hips where he held you in place before gently pulling away. “Actually,” he began. “I’ve never been better. I feel great.”

“Wow,” you nodded slowly. “That’s impressive, and moderately concerning.”

“Ah, come on, enjoy it. I’m usually hobbling around all wrapped up and fucked up,” Frank grinned and nodded over to his van. “Come on, I got something I want to show you.”

“A man just gestured to a van and said he wants to show me something. Let’s see, what can possibly go wrong there?” You asked Frank who guided you towards the passenger side.

He snorted, “Yet you willingly get in.”

“Well, yes, you’re pretty.”

Frank rolled his eyes, muttering that he was far from pretty as he helped you into the passenger seat. He shut the door behind you, climbed into the driver’s seat, but didn’t start the car. He instead surprised you by reaching into the back and grabbing a black plastic bag that crinkled loudly as he brought it over to him.

You studied him with a raised eyebrow, “Dude, we could go upstairs, you know.”

He shrugged a shoulder, “I just wanted time with you, not the whole tower,” he explained as he opened the bag and lifted up two white styrofoam cups. “Try this.”

“Is this drugs?”

“Does it look like drugs?” He scoffed as you took a cup from him. You popped off the plastic lid and peered into the ice-cold cup. You noticed the top was smooth and looked a little ice-y, but not quite like ice cream or an Italian ice. You looked up to Frank who grinned, “Helado de Coco, place out in Sunset. It’s ice with a drop of cream in it, gives it this beautiful, silky texture.”

“That sounds heavenly. What do I got?”

“Cherry for you, coconut for me,” Frank said as he swiped the top of your ice with his spoon and brought it to your lips. You shrugged and leaned forward to eat it, watching as Frank smiled in delight to see you trying it for the first time. Your eyes widened a bit and you slapped your hand over your mouth after trying your first bite. “Right?”

“Holy shit, Frank. You never cease to amaze me,” you blurted out as you stabbed your spoon into his coconut ice.

“I know — hey!” He laughed. “Manners, princess, damn.”

“I have to know!” You said quickly and tried it. “Fuck.”

“And that is the second time I’ve got you sounding like that in this van,” he teased you as he started to eat his ice. “You like it?”

“I’m loving it,” you sighed dreamily and leaned back in your seat to enjoy it. “I’m actually glad you stopped by, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Yeah?” He looked at you from the side, eyes quickly looking you over to see if there was something that needed his immediate attention. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I just gotta go to London for a few days. I’ve got some stuff I’m working on, taking Dr. Banner with me. Just letting you know in case you miss me,” you teased.

He hummed and watched you closely, “Yeah? What are you working on?”

“Research, sensitive topic. No one here is —“

“That vase huh?” He asked you, watching as you suddenly pouted. “Come on, princess. It wasn’t a hard guess. You had me take that chunk of that vase back for you for a reason, and you been a busy bee lately. That vase was important, wasn’t it?”

“I think so,” you began, not wanting to tell him that maybe, just maybe, there’s something supernatural and weird about it because you didn’t want to worry him, he already had enough on his plate. “No one here really knows, figured I’d take it back to where it was last seen a couple of centuries ago, see some experts at the British Museum — they’ve got serious people there, and see what we can find out.”

“Okay, sounds good.” He nodded in agreement with you. “Well, uh, don’t be gone too long. Okay?”

You shoved the spoon into the cup, slammed it down into the cupholder, and grabbed Frank’s forearm with both hands, “Oh my shit, Frank Castle.”

He groaned, knowing where you were headed with this already, “Don’t even start —“

“You’re going to miss me!” You sang loudly, “You like me! You’re gonna miss me, you’re gonna want me, you’re gonna need me, but I’ll be in another country, and you’ll be here waiting, and I’m gonna —“

Frank cut off your obnoxious singing by grabbing your jaw, pulling you close, and pressing his lips against yours, the taste of coconut on his lips meshing with the cherry on yours. You hummed into the kiss, causing Frank to pull away with a teasing, satisfied smirk.

“You’re a shit,” you mumbled under your breath.

He smirked and wiped the red dye from the corner of your mouth, “I know, princess. Keep me updated on that vase of yours, okay? And, you know, I’m almost wrapped up here with the Bratva Boys. When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow night,” you said quickly. For a moment, you paused to think about it. Should you take Frank with you? If you left him here in New York and something serious happened or you found out something dire and Frank was on another continent, you’d feel incredibly guilty. But damn it, this meant that he needed to find out why you were really going over that stupid vase and how you were worried about him. Okay. Maybe you can tell him on the plane…? 

“Hey,” you cleared your throat. “Go with me?”

“You want me to go with you and the doc?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Why not? Could be fun. When’s the last time you were out the country and not serving it, Frank?”

You watched as his head tilted to the side. It seemed like he completely left you in that moment. Frank’s eyes were pointed on you, but he looked like he was gone, eyes glazed over, not blinking, just a long thousand-yard stare into the distance.

Finally he came back to you with a quick snort of air and a clearing of his throat. He nodded quickly, hand running down the front of his face before scratching at his stubble, “Yeah, yeah. Okay. Uh…. not sure how easy it is for me to get on a plane, though. Not sure if you noticed, but I’m pretty sure I’m a flight-risk, an everything-risk, actually.”

You stared at him, eyebrows up in surprise, “Oh, honey….that’s cute you think we’re flying commercial.”

Frank stared at you for a moment before his lips curled in a smirk “I fucking knew that little billion dollar princess was in there somewhere,” he remarked while you grinned.

~*~

“What do you mean you don’t want to go!?” You threw your hands up as you stared at Bruce. “It would be so fun!”

“Yeah. Big guy in a big museum with priceless, irreplaceable artifacts,” Bruce stared at you. “With the Punisher. Sure.”

“Hey, Frank is sweet.”

“I’m sure Frank is very nice to you, and he was quite fine with me, but for the benefits of, well, everyone, I will sit this one out. Just call me, you’ll be fine. You should probably tell him why you’re going, too.”

“And why are we telling Frank why my spawn is going to London on the down low?” Tony asked.

Bruce jumped and dropped a beaker from his hand onto the ground. He swore loudly as the ground began to smoke and he ran to find something to neutralize it. You nearly fell out of your chair as your dad stepped out from behind one of the storage lockers in the lab.

“Were you spying?” You shouted. “How did you get in here?”

“It’s literally my lab in my tower, I can go anywhere I want,” Tony crossed his arms over his chest and stared at you. “Now, what’s going on, Y/N, and where are we going?”

Aw, shit.

[blackradandmad]

my experience with lupron/”puberty blockers”

i have severe endometriosis. i was diagnosed at 16 and had three major surgeries for it before i turned 19. i started birth control for my six weeks long, heavy, debilitating periods when i started having them at 12. by 19, i had tried every birth control under the sun (with no success) -- except lupron. lupron, a gnrh agonist commonly used on males as a treatment for prostate cancer, on women in fertility treatments, on women with endometriosis, aaaaand yup, this is the exact same drug parents let be injected into girls with the euphemistic title of a “puberty blocker.” (i promise we’ll circle back to this hold on) 

luckily, i live two hours away from one of the most accomplished endometriosis specialists/surgeon in the world, and he is so passionate about finding a cure or at least better treatments for women with endometriosis. he’s an obgyn but he literally doesn’t do the obstetrics part, he purely focuses on helping each woman find their best treatment for this disease. he has such a vast amount of knowledge on surgery techniques and surgical robots and different treatment options, and he is incredibly thorough when it comes to informed consent. if something could happen or has happened-- positive, negative, or neutral-- he will tell you about it. in detail. now this is important, because after decades of observing treatment effects and listening to women and researching side effects, his personal philosophy is that the lupron injection should be a last resort. like, after major surgery last resort. if a woman wants to try it first thing, he won’t stop her, buuuut after he gives her all the possible short and long term side effects, she usually is eager to explore other options. 

(enter me) 19, three surgeries, dependent on opioid painkillers just to be able to get out of bed in the morning, and now, a fun new symptom! every time i begin to bleed, my heart develops an arrhythmia and i experience constant, burning chest pain. i begin to violently cough up blood. so, my endometriosis has spread to my lungs, may randomly cause my lungs to collapse at literally any moment, and i’ve exhausted all treatment options. except! lupron. the devil drug. the horror stories i heard from other women were insane, and that was just the short-term side effects. my doctor had to go through the process of explaining both short and long term side effects as i cried in the office chair because i knew that i had to take this drug. there was nothing else left for me, and things were getting worse. so i did. i was on it for a year. you want to know what that year was like? 

i was suicidal, homicidal, and fell headfirst into the most severe and detrimental manic episode of my life. i experienced psychotic symptoms, and that along with the aforementioned symptoms led me to a week long stay at the psych ward. i did not have one day without severe joint and bone pain. i broke three bones, all while running or walking, when i had never broken a bone before. i’m already epileptic, but i had two hospital stays for uncontrollable tonic-clonic seizures while i was on it. i couldn’t sleep. i got night sweats and night terrors. i either couldn’t eat a thing or felt absolutely insatiable. regardless, i was always nauseous and got sick a lot. now, six years later, i still deal with worsening osteopenia, making me at high risk to develop osteoporosis. at 25. and the kicker is, it did shit-all for my endometriosis. it made me sick on top of sick on top of sick etc etc. and i’m not a rarity. men and women from all ages and all walks of life have experienced this and worse, and many people, like me, are still dealing with the fallout of it, years or even decades later. i do not believe this drug should be on the market for literally anything at all.

i was an adult and lupron gave me the worst fucking year of my life. and there are parents letting their HEALTHY children be injected with this at age 12, instead of realizing that if their child is so deeply afraid of puberty that they would rather take a decidedly harmful drug that essentially chemically castrates men and puts women in pseudo-menopause for years, let’s maybe try to work out the cause of that fear in some therapy sessions and group art classes and getting involved in sports or something. i can imagine that it’s pushed at gender clinics without touching on the negative effects too much because, well, lupron drugmakers and salespeople have a history of bribing prescribing doctors with trips, fancy dinners, resorts, or straight up telling a doctor they could earn $100K extra a year just by prescribing lupron to their patients. they went to court and were fined $875,000,000 for it, although i’m sure that’s pocket change for a company who profited $826,000,000 off the drug in 2015 alone, and i doubt they cleaned up their act. if a doctor is willing to give a female child lupron simply because she doesn’t “feel like a girl,” while being completely or even just half-way aware of all the negative side effects of it and backlash it’s received in the medical community, they might as well smear their own shit on the hippocratic oath they swore on, and they should probably give up their license while they’re at it.

[acnelli]

First Time Falling

This is my entry for the @hpqueerfest 2021. Thanks to the mods who hosted this! And a big thank you to my great beta-readers @nagemeikenu and @static-abyss who put up with my phone-writery (writing time is hard to come by these days).

This story was inspired by Prelude and Fugue by shes_gone, and it’s set in a world where Harry didn’t go to Hogwarts, but had been prepared for his destiny.

Pairing: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley Rating: T TW: strong language, mentions of war time, mentions of drug and alcohol consume Prompt: Falling in love for the first time as an adult (late 20’s-early 30’s) Summary: Harry Potter –Head-Auror and Savior of the Wizarding World– spontaneously asked out a cute redhead and it turned to so much more than he could have ever hoped for. 

You can also read this on AO3 and FFN.

*** *** *** *** ***

Not bothering to knock, Ron Weasley marched into Hermione Granger’s office. The heavy mahogany door slammed against the wall, making Hermione jump up from her chair.

“Ron,” she shrieked as a bunch of paper fell off her desk. “What happened?”

Instead of providing his best friend with an explanation for his sudden intrusion, Ron paced back and forth. The panicked look in his eyes made Hermione assume the worst.

With one swift motion, Hermione stepped in front of the redhead, forcing him to stop his frantic pacing. “Ron, please talk to me,” she pleaded, taking his hand into hers. “What’s going on? Is someone hurt? Is your family okay?”

Hermione’s worried expression and the panic in her voice finally brought Ron to his senses. “No, don’t worry, Hermione,” he sighed as he closed her office door. “I’m sorry! But...do you have time for a quick cup of tea in the cafeteria?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. This report is giving me a headache and I need a break.”

Hermione grabbed her purse and gestured for Ron to lead the way.

“I swear, Ron, if you almost gave me a heart attack over something Quidditch related, I’ll hex you into next week and make your new Firebolt disappear forever,” Hermione added as they made their way down to the Ministry cafeteria.

Ron glanced over at the bushy-haired witch, suppressing a grin as he told her his distress was indeed about Quidditch. They grabbed their beverages and headed towards a free table. Gracing him with a dark look, Hermione gestured for Ron to finally tell her what’s going on.

“Harry Potter asked me out on a date!”

This statement caused Hermione’s drink to go down the wrong way, resulting in a violent coughing fit and her spitting out the tea.

“What?” she wheezed out between coughs, as Ron cleaned his face and shirt with his wand.

He waited patiently until Hermione recovered, both from the coughing fit and the shock. “See, even you don’t believe me,” Ron sighed, harshly rubbing his hands over his face, “I don’t blame you, though. I can’t believe it myself, after all.”

Finally being able to speak again, Hermione put her elbows on the small table and leaned forward, determined to not miss a single thing about this story. “Spill! How? When? Where? And don’t you dare to leave out even the smallest detail.”

Ron shook his head, still in disbelief about what had happened to him just twenty minutes ago. Not being able to wrap his head around it, he decided to tell Hermione today’s events from beginning to end.

“Today, Robertson sent me a memo to come to his office to discuss the ridiculous complaints about the Tornados/Harpies game last week,” Ron started and couldn’t help rolling his eyes about the things he had to put up with at work sometimes. “So, I went there, gave him my report about the match and a brief overview. Thank Merlin, he only asked his usual useless questions about referee bribery claims. I was ready to launch into a whole speech but he suddenly dismissed me and told me to write up a statement for the press.

“I was just on my way back to my office when I met Seamus. The fucking wanker had the nerve to claim the next Cannons match for himself. I know he did that just to spite me so, naturally, I gave him an ear full about it as we waited for the lift. We only noticed Harry Potter standing right behind us when we got inside the lift. I probably sounded like an idiot but Seamus and I kept the conversation up because I always get second-hand embarrassment when people stop talking if Potter walks by or joins the lift.”

Hermione patiently listened to his ramblings, restraining herself from telling him to get to the point already.

Ron sipped on his tea and shook his head. “You know what? I read too much into this. Just realised that I’m acting exactly as everyone else does. What’s the big deal? Just a bloke who wants to have a pint after work.”

Hermione stared at Ron, expecting him to go on with his story, but he just kept sipping his tea.

“Ron!”

“What?”

“How did he ask you out?” She accidentally raised her voice but Hermione was finally losing her patience with him.

“I told you, he most likely-”

“Just tell me the damn story, already!” Hermione snapped, blushing a little when she noticed the people on the other tables giving her funny looks.

“Alright,” Ron said, raising an eyebrow at her. “Calm down, barmy woman.”

“You're the one marching into my office like a lunatic. Spill it! Now!”

With a heavy sigh, Ron continued with his story, curling his hands around the tea mug to keep from fidgeting.

“Seamus had already gotten off at another level, so it was just me and Potter in there. I tried to avoid the awkward silence, so I asked him if he followed Quidditch and was going to listen to or even watch the Tornados match tonight. He said that he does follow Quidditch and that he intended to listen to the match at home but if I'd be up to it, we could listen to it at this new pub that just opened in Diagon. He totally caught me by surprise, but I must've agreed because he told me he'll meet me at the fireplaces at 5. Then he left the lift. Then I freaked out and came to your office.”

Ron marked the end of his story by taking another sip of his tea before he defiantly crossed his arms in front of him.

“Jesus, Harry Potter actually asked you out! Oh my God!” Hermione almost squealed, grasping one of Ron's arms.

“Nah! I don't think so anymore. I bet he just wanted to have a pint and was only being polite when he asked me to come along,” Ron said. “Who'd ask someone out like that anyway?”

“Someone looking for a partner?”

“Yeah, but think about it, Hermione. Why would he ask me out? The guy is not only fucking famous, he's also devilishly handsome. He could have anyone he wanted.”

“So?”

Ron looked at Hermione as though she'd just declared the desire to live as a chicken.

“So? So, why would someone ask me out while on a random stroll through the Ministry? Who'd think ‘Oh, that freakishly tall ginger with more freckles than skin looks kinda awkwardly cute. Let's try to get a leg over?'"

“I dated you,” Hermione interjected.

“You don't count.”

“Well, thank you!” Her sarcasm was all but ignored by Ron.

“I just know I'll embarrass myself tonight,” Ron insisted, looking quite unhappy. “Let's go back to work. I still have to write that useless report.”

“Devilishly handsome, hm?”

“Shut up!”

**** **** **** ****

Harry didn't know what had possessed him to ask the cute ginger out for a pint.

Maybe it had been the Prophet article speculating for the umpteenth time about when the Savior of the Wizarding World would finally settle down and make some black-haired, green-eyed babies. Rita Skeeter had many ideas about what worthy witch could conquer the heart of Harry Potter. All things considered, the article had probably not been the worst thing written about him so far.

Sometimes he wondered if he should've taken Sirius’ advice to feed the press and public meaningless details of his life. It wouldn't stop the constant speculations and made-up affairs, but it probably would reduce the paparazzi following him around, the crazy fans sending him love letters and maybe, they would find something more newsworthy than where Harry Potter bought his toilet paper.

But he hated the fact that people demanded this from him. He was 29 now, and while the great hype about him was over, he still seemed to be interesting enough to write about, even over a decade after his defeat of Voldemort.

He knew the majority of the Wizarding World was sincerely grateful for what he'd done. There were so many parents thanking him for the simple fact that they're still alive and able to see their children grow up.

It reminded him that it was all worth it. The sacrifices, the nearly friendless childhood, his secret life away from the public, the growing up with the knowledge that he might not live long enough to celebrate his 17th birthday. All of that had resulted in ending Voldemort once and for all.

When he'd destroyed the Dark Lord and his Horcruxes though, Harry’s hope of finally living a normal life got crushed soon after. In the post-war world, it had been next to impossible to lead a life like everyone else. Because of his childhood and his training by Alastor ‘Mad Eye’ Moody himself, he learned not to trust easily. And since occasions to make friends or interact with strangers had been few and far between, he never really learned what to look for in a friend.

He was well aware that he was complaining about a comfortable life. His parents had left him a respectable amount of gold, and Sirius bought him a flat in London after he graduated from Auror Academy. Maybe he'd gotten this job because of his fame and reputation, but he knew he deserved the position as Head Auror. There was hardly anyone with the same amount of training and experience he brought to the table, and he was under the impression the people working for him did genuinely like him as a boss. Two of them he even considered friends after all these years.

Aside from the two friends at work he also had his family. He had Sirius, Remus, Andromeda, Tonks and his godson, Teddy. He wasn't alone by any means, but he'd never met someone he could possibly fall in love with. Hell, aside from one of Tonks’ old friends from school and her father's attempts to set him up with several of his countless nieces—and later nephews when Harry told his family girls didn't do it for him—he'd never even dated. Toby—a fellow student from elementary school and the only friend his age—dragged him to Muggle pubs and clubs, resulting in the occasional snog or even a shag with a stranger. Needless to say, his first time hadn't exactly been romance novel material and it sure wasn't something he liked to think about. Sometimes, Harry feared that he would never fall in love, that he wasn't capable of developing those feelings for another person.

Those unpleasant thoughts combined with the Rita Skeeter article may have been the result of his sudden impulse to just go for it and ask the redhead out. But it also could have been the brilliant blue eyes, the kind, shy smile and the lean shoulders. Harry was sure, though, that the main reason for it had been the fact that this man hadn't treated him like a Messiah. It had just been an easy conversation, even if it had been only two minutes.

Harry hoped it would remain that way when they watched the game later. In fact, he could just brush it off as a friendly meeting with a fellow Ministry worker if Cute Ginger wasn't interested in anything more.

But when he thought about the redhead’s lopsided grin, Harry felt a foreign flutter in his stomach and he couldn't help but hope for more, even if it was just another visit to the pub.

**** **** **** ****

In the 30 years of Ron Weasley’s existence, he'd never been on time for something not work-related. Today, though, he was almost ten minutes early as he waited by the fireplaces for Harry Potter.

Again, he felt rather pathetic. For a hot second, he considered waiting in a nearby bathroom to pass the time, pretending to get to their meeting place just in time. But then he reminded himself that he wasn’t a petty teenager anymore, and even if Potter found it pathetic, Ron didn’t expect a repeat of tonight, anyway.

He decided to just treat this like a meet-up with Dean and Seamus every other Thursday after work. Just two guys, enjoying a couple of pints together, talking about Quidditch. Nothing special. Nothing to freak out over.

The atrium was busy as ever but he spotted Potter right away when the Head-Auror stepped out of the lift and made his way towards the fireplaces. He still wore his magenta work robes and Ron couldn't help but notice how sexy they looked on him.

“Hi!” Potter greeted Ron, smiling somewhat shyly. “Ready for some beer and Quidditch?”

“Sure! But I forgot to introduce myself earlier, so I figured I'd do that now,” Ron said, giving the dark haired man a smile in return, as he offered his hand for a proper introduction. “I'm Ron. Ron Weasley.”

“I'm Harry.”

**** **** **** ****

“No way! How did he get out of there?”

Harry barked out a laugh at Ron's tale of a night out with Seamus and Dean. His outburst was loud enough for the other guests of the pub to look in their direction. Ron found it amusing how a simple change into Muggle clothes, different glasses, and a slightly lighter hair colour resulted in no one recognizing the Boy-Who-Lived.

“Since it was a Muggle police station, Seamus had to spend the night there. Statute of Secrecy, and all. We picked him up the next morning and filled him in on what he'd done the night before, including showing everyone his pale arse.” Ron grinned deviously at the memory. “I invented some things for good measure. Unfortunately, Dean is too good for this world and told him a few hours later that I was taking the mickey.”

Harry shook his head, chuckling. “That reminds me of Remus searching the whole of London for Sirius, only to find him several hours later in a hidden spot on the roof. He was gazing at the stars and totally stoned. Combined with Firewhiskey, he didn't remember a single thing from that night.”

“Sirius?” Ron looked quite interested at the mention of his Godfather’s name. “Sirius, as in Sirius Black?”

“Yes. He was my Dad’s best friend. And he's my Godfather.”

“I'm just asking because I'm related to the Blacks. My grandfather married Cedrella Black.”

“Yes, I recognize the name. Her face got blasted off the family tree,” Harry said, and at Ron's raised eyebrow quickly added, “Sirius’ mother blasted everyone off that tree who didn't uphold the Black family's motto ‘Toujours pur’. So, Cedrella must have gone against the high and mighty Black Pureblood tradition.”

“Well,” Ron said, taking a swig of his beer, “she married a Weasley. I'm sure that alone was reason enough to disown her. The Weasleys have been notorious blood traitors since forever.”

“Sounds like your grandmother had good taste in men if you ask me.”

Harry winked at Ron, and the redhead felt the burning blush creeping up his neck.

Ron was once again amazed at how little time it had taken him to lose his nervousness. But Harry Potter made it very easy for him. Harry was confident, yet humble and polite. His humor didn't have Ron's sarcastic edge, but the redhead found Harry delightfully witty with a good amount of sass.

Ron didn't know what he expected but it was undeniable how easy it was to talk to Harry. He could only hope the raven-haired man enjoyed this just as much as he did. Harry laughed at his jokes and seemed genuinely interested in Ron's more-than-mundane life.

As much as Ron tried to see this as a meeting with a good friend, he couldn't help the warm feeling in his chest every time Harry smiled at him or his leg accidentally bumped against Ron's. And if the alcohol hadn't gone to his head already, making him imagine things, Harry's eyes kept flitting down to Ron's lips.

When the woman behind the bar announced the final round, they decided to call it a night since it was one of Harry's work Saturdays tomorrow.

As they ventured out of the crowded pub and into the cool night air, Ron was disappointed about the evening coming to an end. Time had flown and he was sure they could've talked for several more hours.

“Would you mind if I walk you home?” Harry asked just as Ron wanted to wish him a good night.

Ron nodded, not being able to suppress his smile as Harry obviously remembered him mentioning that he only lived a few blocks away.

They kept their pace slow and walked a little closer to each other than necessary, their hands bumping against one another. Every touch sent a jolt through Ron's body and he wanted nothing more than to take Harry's hand.

Eventually, they reached their destination. During the entire walk home Ron had gathered all of his Gryffindor courage to ask Harry out, this time for an official date.

“I- um,” Ron started, rubbing one hand against the back of his neck to ease his nerves. “I really enjoyed this evening and I was wondering...Maybe I got this all wrong, but you seem interested, and well, I'm interested too. And if you're not, that's totally fine. But...caniseeyouagain?”

And before Ron's face had the time to go completely crimson, he got his answer as Harry took his hand to pull him close, leaned up and kissed him.

Harry pulled back from Ron's lips, his stunning, green eyes slightly darker than usual and holding a hopeful glint.

Ron didn't give himself the chance to overthink as he put his hand on the back of Harry's neck and kissed him again. A deep groan escaped him when Harry licked at Ron's bottom lip and Harry took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside.

Ron was positive that he'd never experienced something more incredible than kissing Harry Potter. The only things he was capable of paying attention to were Harry and the wild thumping of his heart. And while it was exhilarating and new and positively made him weak in the knees, it also felt a lot like coming home.

Having lost all sense of time, Ron couldn't tell if they'd kissed for a minute or several hours when they broke apart. Harry's hands still gripped his shirt and Ron let his own hands glide from Harry's dark hair down over strong, well-defined shoulders to finally rest at his hips.

Both of them tried to catch their breath and Harry, who finally let go of Ron's shirt to put his arms around him, smiled up at Ron almost shyly.

“Yes, you can see me again,” Harry said, grinning.”What are your plans for tomorrow night?”

“Well,” Ron pretended to think about it for a second, “I thought I'd do this.”

And with that, he leaned in to kiss Harry again.

“I think that's a brilliant idea.”

**** **** **** ****

Just as he turned off the radio and grabbed his coat from the rag beside the door, a loud knock sounded through Harry's now quiet flat.

“Ten minutes early. Eager, aren't we?” Harry said as he opened the door for a tall ginger with a picnic basket in one hand and a broom in the other.

“Says the one waiting right beside the door like a good dog.”

Ron shoved his way inside, putting down the basket and broom before pulling Harry into his arms.

“Happy Birthday,” Ron murmured against the other man's lips. “And I thought I was supposed to give you a present, not the other way around?”

Harry pulled back a little, apparently confused. Ron grinned at him and squeezed Harry's arse. “Thanks for wearing my favourite pants today.”

Chuckling, Harry pointed at the broom Ron had brought with him. “No way I'll fly on a broom in these. Good thing I also packed my joggers.”

Ron hadn't told him where they were going for Harry's Birthday. He'd just instructed Harry to be ready at 9 in the morning, so they'd be back in time for dinner at Grimmauld Place with Harry's family.

Only two months had passed since their first kiss, but Harry already felt as though he'd known Ron for much longer. Every kiss, every touch, all the teasing and banter, and late night talks felt so completely natural, yet blissfully exciting.

“Come on, grab your broom. We're on a tight schedule.”

Ron winked at him and before Harry knew it, they were standing in the middle of a giant Quidditch pitch.

There wasn't a single soul besides them, but Harry immediately recognized the giant Hogwarts House banners from his family's keepsakes of their school years. Aside from that fateful day when he'd fought Voldemort on those grounds, he'd never visited the school. Not before, not after.

Harry tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. The surprise must be the result of one of their late night talks, when Harry confessed that his deepest desire while growing up had been to go to Hogwarts.

“Are we allowed to be here or do I need to arrest you for breaking into school grounds?”

Arms wrapped around him from behind and Harry could feel Ron smiling against the back of his head. “I wouldn't be opposed to playing the big bad Auror and the naughty Suspect later, but this is actually 100% legal. Having contacts with important Quidditch officials has its perks sometimes. And my annual chess game against McGonagall helped too, I suppose.”

“Okay then,” Harry said, lifting one of Ron's hands to his mouth to brush his lips against his knuckles. “Fill me in on that plan of yours.”

Ron let go of him and reached for their brooms, tossing one of them at Harry. “I thought we'd fly over the grounds first, so I can show you everything from above. The castle looks fucking amazing from up there and the Great Lake is a sight to die for when the water reflects the sun.”

Ron mounted his broom and flew in slow circles around Harry as he continued to talk. “I hope you don't mind that I invited your family for dinner. But I thought we could all show you the castle, introduce you to our favourite spots and secret places. Andromeda can show us the Slytherin common room. I've never been there myself. I'll show you the kitchen first. That's where I'll cook dinner later while the others show you around.”

Jumping down from his broom, Ron looked at Harry with a mixture of excitement and reluctance as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was a telltale sign of the redhead being nervous, Harry had learned in the last weeks.

“So, I thought this to be fitting for a 30th Birthday. I wasn't sure what to get you that you don't already have, and I reckoned this might be fun.”

Harry didn't know what to say and his silence only made Ron doubt his plan more. It always baffled Harry how Ron didn't realize how wonderful he was. He wished Ron could see himself through Harry's eyes.

Right at that moment, as Harry looked into Ron's blue eyes, it hit him. In fact, he knew he'd been harbouring these feelings inside him for weeks now, but only now he could see it with shining clarity.

He was falling in love.

The feeling was new, something he'd never experienced, but still he recognized it for what it was.

 Love.

***

[djarinbarnes]

me olvidarás - six

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Pairings: Javier Peña x female reader

Warnings for the chapter: 18+ smut, fingering, oral sex (f rec), unprotected vaginal sex (be safe pls), soft javi 🥺

Word count: 5.4k

Summary: an undeniable warm summer vacation in Bogotá. simply trying to get away from your nosey, boring parents and live for once, you meet a man who impresses you beyond where your imagination could ever take you.

a/n: we have a cute, flustered Javi trying to cook.... and.... more ;D finally. peep the *flashback*

previous chapter · series masterlist

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Who the fuck knew cooking was so difficult? Javi cursed audibly at the chicken simmering away in the pan, yellow from the ridiculous amount of curry he had accidentally dropped in there. “You still with me?” He heard Connie’s calming voice on the other end of the line, and he nodded. “Javier?”

“Fuck, yeah I’m still here.” People can’t see you nodding through the phone, you imbecile. He cursed again, hearing a soft laugh on the other end of the line. “Sorry Con. I’m just nervous and all. Why the fuck is cooking so damn hard?” He cast a look to the counter beside him, taking in all the different ingredients Connie had made him buy to make chicken enchiladas.

“Javi, calm down. Cooking is only hard because you have little to no knowledge about it.” he sighs into the phone, running a hand over his face before he reaches out for the cigarette pack on the table, placing one between his lips before he lights it, inhaling the smoke deeply. He lets out a cough, remembering the few cigarettes he smoked yesterday, which wasn’t like him at all.

In the few days he’s known you, he’s been so distracted he barely smoked any cigarettes. His cigarettes were his usual distraction, but now, with you in his life, he found a better, more healthy distraction. As if having a semi all damn day was any healthier. He lets out a groan at the memories from last night flowing through his mind, his toes tingling slightly at the thought of you, half-naked in front of him, chest heaving and-

“Javi, how’s the chicken looking?” Connie’s voice pierces through his thoughts and he turns so quickly he gets dizzy, taking in the yellowed chicken on the pan. He quickly finds a tong, turning the chicken around in the grease, sighing deeply at the dark brown backs of the breasts, laying right there in the grease, mocking him.

“Slightly… overcooked maybe. The backs are all brown-ish dark.” He breathes, feeling defeated. The only thing he wanted to do was give you a nice, homemade dinner, but that he couldn’t even muster. Maybe he just couldn’t do anything right for you.

“Oh, that’s alright. As long as it’s not completely charred, it should be okay.” Javi hears the relief in her voice as she lets out a laugh, probably reacting to something Steve said in the background. “So, a date, huh?” She tries and Javi rolls his eyes, bringing the cigarette back to his lips before he turns over the chicken again, seeing the other side way nicer cooked than the other.

“Yeah. A date.” he sighs before taking the pan off the heat, moving it to one of the other flares. “Chicken’s done. What now?” He breathes into the phone, listening and following along to every little thing Connie says to him through the phone, guiding him through the whole ordeal of cutting the chicken and the vegetables, making sure to switch cutting boards (even though the chicken wasn’t raw anymore) and finally getting the enchiladas assembled. When they were finally in the oven, he let out a deep sigh. Something is finally going right.

“Thanks Connie. I owe you, I really do.” He looks up at the clock, noticing the time before he’s scrambling around the kitchen putting the phone down quickly, putting all the used pans and cutting boards into the sink before setting the table with hurried motions. He lifts the phone again just as he pulls off his shirt, slightly out of breath.

“Listen Connie, it’s been a pleasure, thank you again but she’ll be here any minute and I haven’t changed-” He mentally curses himself as he hears the doorbell ringing, letting him know you were here. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he almost panics at the sudden interruption, but Connie manages to calm him down within seconds.

“Javi, it’s gonna be fine. I know she likes you. Change, let her in, have a good time. I’ll see you later.” Before he can say anything else, Connie has hung up the phone, and he’s running around his apartment, finding a clean shirt, and barely pulling it on before he hears the bell ring again, followed by a soft knock.

He straightens out the shirt, before quickly approaching the door, opening it to reveal you and your sun kissed cheeks, a wide smile plastered onto your face. You hold out a bottle of wine, and he finds himself unable to contain himself with all the serotonin surging through his body at the sight of you. He does nothing else than pull you into his arms, his lips connecting with yours hungrily.

Your arms come around his middle, holding him tight as he kisses you deeply, his hands finding the back of your neck and your waist. It feels so good to be in his arms, feels so good to be tasting him and then the delicious smell fills your nostrils. You hear your stomach rumble slightly before he detaches himself from you, holding you out to take a good look at you.

Your eyes are already hooded in bliss, your lips slightly swollen and kissable and your cheeks are red and blushed over. You’re so god damn beautiful as you stand there in his arms, inviting him into your embrace. You offer him a smile as he keeps looking at you, like you were the one who hung the moon and the stars.

“For you,” you whisper as you move your hand from his back, showing him the wine, you picked up on the way here. He smiles at your gesture - it makes his fingers and his heart tingle. If only you weren’t so fucking perfect. “For us.” you blush slightly before he steps aside, letting you into his apartment.

You love the way his living room is lowered from the entrance and the kitchen, and while you’re discarding your jacket, you wonder what he’s cooked for you. It smells amazing, and you feel the hunger creep up into you. You look around his apartment once more, taking in the sparse collection of pictures in frames hung on the walls, among other things.

One in particular catch your eyes, and you find yourself smiling. You can easily make out Javi, and his dad which he looks very much like. They both sported the same type of beard, they had the same warm, brown eyes, hell, even their grins looked so much alike. You feel him come up behind you, his hand swiping your hair off one side of your shoulder before he leans down, placing a kiss against your neck.

“I hope you’re hungry.” Javi whispers and you nod with a soft giggle, turning away from the picture and following him into the kitchen, watching as he uncorks the wine. He finds two glasses in one of the cabinets and pours you both a glass. “I know we aren’t eating yet, but…” he holds the glass out, and you carefully clink yours against his. “Cheers. Thank you for coming, hermosa.”

You watch him over the rim of your glass as you take a small sip, truly enjoying the deep, rich taste of the wine you had bought. You take a minute to admire him in front of you, his hair mussed and tousled up from the constant running through it his hands were doing. You giggle a bit at it – it was cute to see him so nervous and flustered. You wondered what thoughts went through his mind – his cheeks were occasionally flaring up in blushes, his eyes diverting from yours to anywhere else in the room.

It was cute, really, like he was a young boy again, trying to impress his prom date, and it made you smile even more. You don’t miss the way his hand clenches at his side, almost like it wanted to reach out and touch you, but you were poison ivy that would burn him if he dared to. You silently wish for him to touch you again.

Your prayers are answered when you watch him as he moves towards you, setting both of your glasses on the counter beside you before he’s lifting you onto it by your hips, pushing himself in between your thighs. He reattaches his lips to yours hungrily, and you can do nothing but give in.

His lips are like a drug to you, and you’re dangerously addicted to the taste of him. You don’t even know where the sudden urge to ravish him comes from - okay, yes you do but… That wasn’t the case right now. The whole thing feels so domestic, so good and natural, and you’re slowly losing yourself in the heat of the moment.

You almost let out a cry for more as he pulls away from you, but he quickly grabs an oven mitt, pulling the enchiladas out of the oven, placing it on the stove before he’s back in between your legs, his lips finding yours yet again. You moan at the feeling of his mustache caressing your lip, and he takes your parted lips as an invitation to push his tongue into your mouth.

You feel yourself grow wet between your legs as he holds you, his tongue exploring yours as you wrap your fingers in his locks, urging him closer. You feel his growing erection through his pants, and you smile against his lips. Before you can get too much into it though, you’re pulling him away by the hairs at the nape of his neck, causing him to let out a groan.

“Now, now Javi… It would be rude of us to completely forget the dinner you’ve made for us.” You grin like a Cheshire cat, before pushing yourself off the counter, grabbing the dish from the stove and putting it on the table. Then you take both your glasses, placing both in front of your respective plates. You bring the bottle over as well, just in case.

“You’re gonna drive me insane, hermosa.” He breathes as you both sit down, and you give him a wink over the table. Javi looks at the table he’s set - muttering out a fuck before he rises, picking his lighter from the counter and lighting the candles he’s put on the table for you. Well… He tried to be romantic.

Your wide smile doesn’t go unnoticed, though, and Javi feels his heart going a thousand miles an hour just looking at you. He knows just what you want. He knows what he wants as well, and he’s given you a promise after all. He knows he’s giving into you tonight. Knows that tonight is going to be the night where you lose your virginity to him.

It feels surreal to have you in his home, happily shoving small forkfuls of chicken and corn tortilla into your mouth, making small noises of happiness as you swallow. His heart almost bursts when you compliment his cooking, which wasn’t as bad as he’d told you it would be. He smiles at that, and thanks you.

He’s so god damn enamored with you, and he doesn’t even know what he would do without you at this point. It finally feels like he has a purpose, someone to come home to. Before, his apartment was just four walls and a roof. The liveliness and warmth you just brought into his apartment… It stirred something inside of him.

Something that had to do with marriage, children, growing old together. In all his 39 long years, he never wanted to have children. And yet with you in front of him, he sees the future he’s sure everyone else sees when they meet their soulmate. When they meet the person, they want to spend the rest of their days with.

In that moment, he wants to see you in nothing more than a baby bump. He longs to hear the soft pattering of tiny feet against the floor, hell, he doesn’t even dread the sound of cries from the mouth of children, which he’s always despised.  

It sounds rushed, and to be honest, maybe it is. But he sees himself spending the rest of his days with you. Coming home to each other after long, tiring days, laughing over dinner, and simply enjoying each other’s company to the fullest. He forgets to eat while he looks at you, his mind somewhere completely different.

“Javi?” your voice is soft as it breaks his trance, and he finds your eyes, a slight worrisome expression painted on your face. “Are you okay? You haven’t touched your food.” His eyes fall to the enchilada on his plate, and he quickly shoves the fork into it, cutting off a piece and pushing it into his mouth.

“Yeah, sorry…” he says after the first bite. “I was just… thinking.” he breathes as he takes another bite, followed by another. You watch him as he fills his mouth again and again, almost like he’s trying to get through dinner quickly. Or trying to keep himself occupied.

You discretely extend your foot, finding his leg under the table, drawing his gaze back to your face. “Is everything okay?” You ask him and he does nothing else but nod at your question. “You don’t seem okay.” you tell him before you down the rest of your wine, grabbing the bottle and pouring yourself another glass.

He snorts a bit, and you raise your eyebrow at him, not fully understanding the way he’s acting at the moment. You keep your foot moving up and down his leg, trying to do… anything, really, to get him to open his mind to you. He mutters something under his breath, and you tilt your head with a sorry?

Before you can say more, he’s running his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. “God damn it, hermosa.” He breathes before he stands up, rubbing the back of his neck. You have no idea what’s happening. You have no idea why he’s acting like this. “I can’t do this.” he breathes before he’s picking a cigarette out of the packet, pushing it in between his lips before lighting it.

You feel taken aback by his revelation. Can’t do what? you hesitate, but then you slowly rise from your seat, walking up behind him and laying a hand on his shoulder. “Can’t do what?” You’re almost sure he’s going to push you away, tell you to leave or something like that. You watch as he runs a hand over his face before he turns to you.

“Hermosa…” he breathes, almost choking on the words coming out next. “I can’t help myself around you.” He murmurs, and you’re not sure you hear him correctly. “Jesus…” He takes a deep inhale of the cigarette smoke before he’s exhaling, his eyes finding yours at the same time he grasps your hands in his.

“All I can think about is… everything that could go wrong when I look at you.” You feel your heart pound faster in your chest, and it feels like it’s going to jump out of your mouth if you dare open it. “I see a future with you, and I just know myself well enough to know that I’m going to fuck this up one way or another.” you both swallow past a thick lump in your throats, from the unconventional situation you found yourself in. “I know it’s crazy, trust me, I know it’s fast…”

You feel a breath getting stuck in your lungs at what you think he’s about to say to you. You have no idea what to say if he does - well, you do. But you’re awfully scared he isn’t going to say what you want him to say. Your heart is beating erratically, and you fear you might be passing out.

I love you. It’s all he wants to say, but yet he doesn’t say the words.

“You mean so much to me.” He breathes, and he almost cheers, like he can’t believe his own mind for not betraying him right at that moment. You blink a few times, truly delighted that he hadn’t slipped the three words that every person either dreaded or loved. “I know it’s soon, I’m so-” He’s stopped in his tracks by your lips attaching themselves to his, and he finds his hands gripping your hips, pulling you close to him.

“It’s alright.” you breathe against his lips, not sure why. “I like you, Javi. I really do.” You know you feel deep emotions for him, unexplainable emotions, but you had no idea if it was love yet. You had no idea what it felt to love someone. Maybe it was what you were feeling right at this moment - nervousness and euphoria from just being around him.

It was kind of funny - you’d just met the man, and you realized then, you were helplessly in love with him. You didn’t want to be apart from him for more than a few minutes, and even though you had to, you hated every minute alone. You feel his hands drag up the length of your spine, pulling you into his body before he’s kissing you again. You knew he must’ve been taken aback with your reciprocation of his feelings, but you didn’t care. You knew how you felt about him, and you were gonna let him know.

Your hands find their way through his hair, pulling him close as his hands travel down to the globes of your ass, lifting you by your hips to walk you through his apartment and into his bedroom. The rest of the dinner wasn’t going to run away. You giggle as you both fall onto his bed, with him on top of you, his lips kissing yours intensely.

“Mm, Javi, the candles.” You giggle against his lips and he curses a bit when he picks himself off you, quickly running out to the table to blow them out before he’s pouncing on you like a hungry animal. His mouth slants over yours, the weight of his body resting heavily on top of you. His hips are warm in between your legs, and you’re loving the feeling of him in between them. His hands come down to ease your dress over your hips, letting it pool on your stomach and around your hips.

Your breathing is languid, deep puffs of breath spilling from your lips at the breathlessness from the intense kiss you’d just shared, and what you hoped would happen in continuation of that. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your hips as he slowly plays with the band of your panties, silently begging for the material to disappear.

You push him off you, climbing off the bed before you turn to him, watching his face as it changes from disappointed to surprise, the hem of your dress falling back to rest over your knees. Your hands find their way to your back, slowly pulling the zipper down before you pull your arms out of the sleeves, collecting the material in your hands before you let it drop to the floor around your feet.

You watch as he visibly sucks in a breath at your attire, the beautiful navy lace adorning your breasts and hips speaking to him in the most sensual language. You slowly take a step back to the bed, leaning down to press another kiss against his lips when he pulls you back to your initial position, rapidly getting back on his knees in between your spread legs. 

“Dios mío…” he breathes, and you tug your lip in between your teeth before you giggle. “This all for me?” he says lowly, the arousal coursing through his veins, thickening the sound of his voice. You nod, desperate for him to put his hands, his mouth… anything on you.

His fingers slowly find both your calves, coarse fingertips running over the smoothness of your skin all the way up to the bend of your knee. He lifts one of your legs, bringing his lips to your skin before peppering sweet kisses onto your calf, the inside of your knee and down the inside of your thigh as he repositions himself, making you shudder.

You watch as he leans down, his lips finding the soft, delicate skin of your stomach, littering kisses along your hip bones on top of the lace. You whimper when he slowly hooks his fingers into both sides of your panties, slowly dragging them down your hips, baring your most private area to him yet again. You silently wish you meet whatever standards he has.

You whimper as you feel him slide further down on the bed, burying his head in between your legs for the second time within 24 hours. He swiftly connects his mouth to your pussy, his tongue darting out to swiftly press against your clit before he’s licking a broad stripe up the length of your pussy, drawing a deep moan from your lips.

You’re instantly thrown back to what happened yesterday in the office, and you’re secretly wishing for him to exactly what he did yesterday, and possibly even more. His tongue is like heaven as it works against you, the thick muscle swiftly pushing inside of you, before the space it leaves is filled with the thickness of two of his fingers.

You whimper out as you feel the slight expansion inside you, along with a hand tightening on your hip. You know he’s loving the taste of you; from the way he’s letting out groans at every exhale of breaths. Your fingers find their way into his hair, tugging on the chocolate strands to get him closer to you.

You have no idea how much of his fingers are buried inside of you, but at this moment you don’t care. You just want to have his dick inside of you. And soon. You know that you’re more than ready for it, after the moment the two of you had shared in the kitchen.

“Javi… Javi please…” you whimper as he curls his fingers, his tongue flicking over your clit expeditiously, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. His fingers and his tongue are intent on making you cum on them, and you feel yourself slowly losing yourself within the pleasure.

“Come on baby, cum for me.” the whisper leaving his lips is low, so low you barely hear it, but the pure vibrations against your clit before he reattaches his lips to the bundle of nerves, sucking the nub deftly into his mouth has you coming at an instant.

You whine as his fingers continue their expert assault on your inner walls, curling them skillfully inside of you, drawing your orgasm longer and longer. You tighten your fingers in his hair, pulling on the strands as you feel the over sensitiveness overcoming you, making every touch of his tickle.

He feels you jerk against him at his actions and swiftly comes to a stop, sitting back on his knees to take in your disheveled state. Your cheeks are flushed over, your eyes blown wide with lust and your mouth hanging open slightly. Your fingers have found their way to your breasts, your palms resting gently against the soft curve of them.

He has no words. He’s never seen something so ethereal in his life - and he’d seen a lot. He found himself swallowing past a lump in his throat as he slowly undoes his pants, getting off the bed to push them down his legs. His boxer briefs follow shortly after, and he watches as you suck in a breath, watching him undress in front of you.

“Are you sure about this?” He speaks as he climbs back on the bed, yet again kneeling in between your legs. He watches you as you nod, your cheeks growing impossibly redder. The hand that hadn’t been buried within you finds your cheek, softly caressing the apple of it. “Words, hermosa. I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Javi, I’m sure about it.” you whisper, lost in the feeling of his fingers against your cheek. You feel as they travel over your lips, down your chin and follow the column of your throat, all the way down to your sternum. Both his hands slide behind you as you arch your back, giving him just enough space to unclasp the bra behind your back, and pulling it off your arms swiftly. “Please.”

As you scoot further back on the bed, your eyes are trained on him as he crawls up the length of the bed, in between your legs before he’s kissing you again, his fingers finding their way back in between your legs, swiping up a good amount of your slick. You moan at the contact, your hands coming up to grasp his upper arms.

“I’m ready, Javi. Make love to me.” you breathe, your chest heaving slightly at the intensity of the situation unfolding. You watch his face as he repositions himself slightly before he’s sliding the warm tip of his cock through your folds. You let out another whimper, anxious about what’s about to happen.

Somehow his hand finds yours and brings it to his mouth, leaving a soft kiss on the back of it to calm you down. Your eyes are locked as he slowly pushed his cock into you, the initial stretch awful, but bearable. You whimper as he sheathes himself further into you, the hand on his cock moving to your hip to draw calming circles against your skin.

Javi is watching your face, contorted in pleasure as he slowly retracts his hips before pushing into you again. You whimper, your hand tightening around his as your eyes scrunch up in pain laced with so much pleasure you feel like you could combust from just this. With the weight of him on top of you and the stretch of him inside you, you feel like you were in heaven.

It felt amazing, and you never wanted to be without the feeling again. You open your eyes slightly, making eye contact with his eyes, his lids hooded over the orbs, shielding them slightly. You lean up, attaching your lips to his, urging him to just… do something other than wait for you to be ready. You were more than ready.

“Tell me if it hurts too much,” he breathes, the arousal evident in his voice, and you know he’s desperately trying to contain himself. You shake your head before you slide yourself down the bed just a little bit when you notice his hips aren’t touching yours yet, wanting him to go deeper. You want him closer. Your mouth falls open as he pushes in ever so slowly, the length of him surprising you as his hips come to rest snugly against yours.

“Oh my god, Javi!” you whimper, the pain completely subsided, turned into sweet, sweet pleasure, as you’re thrown headfirst into an amazing orgasm. You feel your pussy convulsing around him, clenching his length as you dig your nails, still resting on his arm, into his skin. He grunts at the pain you’re causing him, but he doesn’t blame you with what he’s doing to you.

“There’s more where that came from.” and just like that, the Javi that you’d come to know is back. You grin up at him, your body warm and trembling slightly as he pulls you down the length of the bed even further, smiling as you giggle. He feels his heart beating erratically at the sight of you, the sight of your breasts and just… The sight of you laying below him.

He slowly retracts his hips, leaning down to kiss you again, his tongue exploring your mouth as he thrusts into you softly, your pussy feeling every ridge and vein on his cock as he moves slowly. You’re a panting mess by now, whimpering every time his hips come against yours, as his cock touches the deepest parts of you.

You lift your leg to wrap around his hip, your feet resting on his back urging him on as he starts to pick up the pace ever so gently. His lips make their way down your throat, leaving deep kisses around the sensitive flesh there, his mustache tickling your skin lightly, his hips now pressing into you a little harder, with a little bit more force. Your eyes roll back into your skull as somehow your hands connect, his weight pressing the backs of your hands into the mattress, as he intertwines your fingers together.

You moan out at the sinful noise that comes from where you’re connected, the soft squelching sound of his cock embedding itself within your slick pussy making you impossibly wetter. He groans into your neck, unable to keep his restraints - that was just the effect you had on him. He’d finally gotten to give into his desires.

Javi has stopped thrusting, and instead his cock is buried all the way inside you, his hips grind into yours, his pelvis grinding against your clit vigorously, drawing another orgasm from you. Your pussy is tightening around him as your fingers tighten around his, and you come undone, thrown face first right back into a dream you had just before you left for Colombia.

Your vision turns white as you arch your back against him, coming ever so close to his chest, where you can feel his heart thumping against his ribcage. He grunts in your ear as he lets himself go, his cock throbbing inside you as he comes against your clenching walls, goosebumps rising on his skin as he lets your hands go, arms coming around you instead to hold you impossibly closer.

He almost cries out at the pleasure of being so deeply buried within your heat, finally getting a taste of what he’s been craving for the past week. Your pussy is fluttering around him as your rapid, heavy breathing is trying to calm you, from not two, but three orgasms he’s given you within the past 20 minutes.

Your hands come up and bury themselves in his hair, as his lips finally find yours again, both your mouths hanging open as you leave open-mouthed kisses against each other's lips. Javi grunts again as he pulls out of you slowly. He lets himself fall onto the bed beside you, his arms pulling you tightly against his body as he places kisses into your hair and onto the forehead.

You grin up at him, completely sated from what just happened. You let out a giggle at the feel of his lips tracing the length from your forehead, down your nose before he kisses your lips, his hands holding onto you like you were going to disappear if he let go. He never wanted to let go again.

The minutes that follow are spent in silence. It’s a good kind of silence though, and nothing like the awkward silence that sometimes had been in between them. You’re wrapped up in Javi’s arms and his sheets, deeply inhaling the distinct scent of him which you have come to adore. You bury your nose further into his neck, feeling the way he tenses against you slightly.

“…smells so good.” You whisper before he feels you relax against him, your arm laying around his middle and over his arm going slightly slack. He absolutely loves the way your breathing feels against his neck, and he closes his eyes, savoring the moment. He knows you’ve fallen asleep – he can tell from the way your breathing got increasingly deeper.

He turns his head the other way, casting a look out of his window at the stars. He absolutely loves the calmness you’ve brought into his life. Your skin is always so soft against his, yet your thoughts are wild and impulsive, but that’s exactly what he fell in love with. At this point, it feels as if he’s holding the entire universe in his arms.

The few moments of deliberation felt so long and drawn out as they did when he felt his eyes close slightly, his thoughts coming to an end. He hadn’t, in his whole life, been exposed to such weakness. He wasn’t going to complain, though – he was simply going to give himself away to the woman in his arms and the exhaustion creeping up on him.

For once in his life, he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

next chapter

[wisehq]

Mission Debrief: Chapter 43

...IT’S HAPPENING! IT’S HAPPENING! IT’S HAPPENING-!

Alright, before we get into it- full disclosure; the hivemind is in full swing at the Operation Strix discord server, so pretty much anything I write here is going to be an amalgamation of all the conspiracy theories and reactions we vomited out as soon as the chapter dropped. On that same note, I think writing these the day after will start to be the norm. Just so I have the chance to calm myself before going on a twenty-page tangent about everything Endo may or may not be planning.

Okay [deep breath] let’s get into it.

First, let’s start off with Franky, before we get into the juicy stuff.

When the chapter first started, I thought we were going to get backstory on Franky. Endo seemed to be alluding to this on his twitter page, and I was actually interested in possibly seeing more about his and Twilight’s relationship. Of course that didn’t end up happening; instead we got another side story about Franky trying to get some action by finding a lady’s lost cat, but seeing as how it’s Franky we’re talking about it seemed appropriate. Also, how can I be upset when-

The princess herself arrives! I gotta say, I loved the lightheartedness of most of this chapter. Yor’s always a delight, and pairing her together with Franky was a smart move on Endo’s part. They built off each other’s wackiness and I love this moment with the two of them. Just like with Twilight, we see that Franky genuinely wants to make the world a better place (and also get rich along the way) and Yor’s so impressed with him. I also liked that moment where Franky is surprised to find Yor still playing Loid’s wife even when he isn’t there- much like how he was with Anya while he was babysitting her. Just another little nod to the fact that he sees the Forger girls as being more than players in a game of elaborate house.

Then- just a quick thing before we get into what I know we all want to talk about- it’s interesting to me that Franky isn’t a one-man operation. He has a whole network of informants that he works with, and it makes sense that someone in his line of work has a many ears on the wall as possible. It’s a surefire way to stay plugged into the goings-on of the Ostanian underworld, unless of course...

...They get taken out by Garden.

AGHGHGHGHGH ALRIGHT, OK LET’S GO-

Garden. We finally have a name for Yor’s group now; we thought it was The Shop for the longest time, but apparently that’s only part of it. Yor alluded to this briefly back in ch. 29 when she described The Shop was being in charge of information gathering, and once their job was done it was Yor’s turn to come in and do the actual assassination. In this sense we see The Shop was being more of a support role in the same way that Franky is, though it’s still safe to assume the Shopkeeper is still in charge of both The Shop and Garden. At least for now- until we get more information to say otherwise, anyway.

Of course, the interesting thing is our silhouetted figures standing in this panel- not to mention the fact that Franky states that all the members are capable of taking on a whole troop of soldiers (for reference, a troop ranges between 9 and 100 men, though it usually hovers around 50). We know Yor is capable of doing this, but now that we also know the other assassins of Garden are as well, it begs the question; is Yor’s strength truly a unique thing in this world? And if it isn’t, what could be the source of it?

OSO-R, the drug used during the Tennis arc, was described as being in its trial stages. I originally chalked up it’s fast development time as just being part of manga logic, although I’m now starting to question that theory. It’s possible the roadmap for OSO-R has been around for much longer than first thought, and may find its traces back to when the war had just ended. Loid describes Garden as having been around for some time. We also know that Yor was just a child when she started up her assassination gig, so it’s possible that she and others like her may be have been exposed to a serum similar to OSO-R a decade or so before. Given Ostania’s track record of human experimentation, the scenario is possible.

Also going back to what Franky describes as “the shadow government”; it’s interesting that we’re hearing rumblings of a government operating outside the public’s view literally one chapter after we were just introduced to the concept of a royal class at some point in Ostania’s past. There’s a lot of things that cab be construed from this (such as Garden serving an authority that doesn’t necessarily align with Donovan and the government) but listing everything would just turn this review into one long-winded mess. So instead, we’re gonna entertain a fun theory- one that may or may not be true, but if it *does* end up being confirmed later on down that road, you heard it here first.

*ahem*

Mr. Green is a part of Garden.

Allow me to state my case.

When ch. 39 came out, I found it very unusual that a brand new character we haven’t seen before got a majority of the panel-time alongside Damian and the boys. It wasn’t very suspicious at the time, given that we’d just been introduced to Becky’s maid Martha, so we all just assumed Endo was building up his side characters a bit. For all intents and purposes, that may very well be the case.

However.

I know one person in particular who latched onto this panel right here, and for good reason; why would a security guard stationed at a school nowhere close to the border know about code words being used by people trying to cross over illegally? Yes, he was supposedly in the navy, but the way he phrases it here heavily implies that these code words are a recent affair, or at the very least are still being used currently. Why would he know that? Even if he was in the military, it’s information that has absolutely nothing to do with being in the navy.

Mr. Green is also very strong; strong enough to make the boys think they were going down rapids when in actuality it was just him rowing so fast. Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever paddled a boat before, but it’s hard work- and it’s certainly difficult to the get that boat going at cruising speed, let alone fast enough to cause rapids. Yor’s the only one we’ve seen with strength like that and- yes, Green was supposedly in the navy, but at this point in time we don’t know anything else about him. We don’t know what he did after the war, nor do we know how he wound up in Eden Academy in the first place.

This is where we start going deep down the rabbit hole. Hang on.

This gentleman who we’ve never seen before is clearly aware that Garden exists, or at the very least is privy to Yor’s actual job. Much like how WISE has plants within Loid’s hospital, this man likely works to support Yor in some way. If such is the case, we can likely assume that- because the shadow government is supporting Garden- they would have their assassins posted in key areas for various reasons, likely to keep an eye out for traitors or to keep them spread out to cover a wide area should the need ever arise to deploy them.

We’ve only ever see Yor target traitorous politicians and outright terrorists (I realize this one is just a daydream, but you get my point). It would make sense, seeing as how she works at city hall and it would likely put her in an advantageous position when hunting them down. Of course, politicians aren’t the only people who might catch Garden’s attention. Given the amount of political and economic unrest that is currently going on in the country, there likely would be some people who would be fed up with the state of things. Such people may not be like Franklin Perkin- someone who would take direct action against the government- but instead would rather try to steer others towards a mindset that stands in opposition to Ostania. Such a person may try to target more impressionable people- people who are likely to listen and learn from an authority figure in their lives. People like...small children.

Eden students.

Garden. Eden. I see what you’re doing there, Endo.

Traitorous professors? Renegade academics? It would make sense to have a Garden assassin stationed at the most prestigious school in the country; the amount of information and contacts that are positioned around there are second to none, and what better way to suppress insurrection than at the source, at the very foundations of knowledge itself? Also, for kicks and giggles, let’s not forget that the name Mr. Green certainly fits with the plant motif Endo is going for with his assassin group (Garden. Thorn Princess. Briar. You catch my drift?)

Am I grasping at straws? Probably lol. I’d also like to reiterate that this is in no way all my thinking- a lot of crazy people put their brains together for this one, good or bad. But hey, it’s about all we can do until the next chapter! And at the very least, it’s a lot of fun to wonder what-if!

Also, BONUS

...She’s coming.

[thotsforvillainrights]

~Pivitol~

Summary: Emotions are rising and so is the heat. Kai finally takes the time to explore some of the touchier topics of dating...literally!

Chapter: 13

Warnings: Suggestive content (finally). Making out happens as well. There is sex talk in this chapter. You have been warned!

After his little phone call he could feel the guilt sink into his system when images of you and Pops crossed his mind, but mostly you. He was used to defying Pops under the pretense that the old man didn’t know what was best for the benefit of the Hassaikai, but he was not used to doing it to you. You guys hadn’t even had your first argument yet and things still felt very fresh in the relationship. If you knew what he was doing right now...Nevermind that. He pushed the guilt away and called some of his men to his office to collect the briefcase and distribute the drug to the lower rung of the Hassaikai. Kai would play this game out just like he had planned it. Have his lower men distribute the drugs and bring the money back in for exactly one week. Having his pawns do it and risk their own lives with the law was nothing of concern. Although he was changing in terms of respecting his people more often, he was still going to play this out just like he planned. After a week...just one week...he convinced himself. “One week and I’m done.” He mumbled on his way through the halls and back up to the top to see you. 

When he entered he began searching the halls and found you in Pops room, wiping off the counters and making the bed. “Angel, how’s it going?” He sat on the edge of the bed and smiled beneath his mask at your look. “Now Kai, I lose track of time as much as the next person but I know for a fact you don’t work for that short amount of time down there.” You teased him as he scratched the back of his neck. “Ignore all of that. I’m on a 15 minute break and I wanted to come see you. It’s lonely down there after all.” He pat the spot on the bed next to him and watched happily as you gave up cleaning to sit by him. You test the waters of the moment by laying your head on his shoulder. He tenses for maybe half a second but immediately relaxes afterward. While you suck in the peaceful silence, he pauses to peer down at you. Suddenly his head is swarmed with the same thoughts he’s been getting.

How soft are those lips? What does a real kiss feel like?

I want to be closer, I need to be closer.

I should’ve let her/him/them sleep in the bed with me last night...

“Kai?” He paused his thoughts to listen to you as you moved and looked up at him. “I really hope I’m not taking things too fast by asking this but I was wondering if maybe...like possibly if you...I mean I...” Your words were a jumbled mess coming out but they were so much more clear in your head. You silently wished he had a mind reading quirk instead of the overhaul. “I was wondering if you felt comfortable with me in terms of touch?” You started the conversation off with that instead of what you really wanted to ask. You’d be able to work your way up to the question that way. “Comfortable in terms of touch you ask?” He paused and pondered for a bit before looking back at you with bright and slightly upturned eyes (indicating a smile under that mask). “Well I suppose I can say so. In the history of forever, I’ve only let 4 people touch me to my knowledge. They were my mother, father, Chrono, and Pops. Now you’re one of them as well I suppose. I...when I am around you it’s hard to explain how I feel. I’ve never felt this way before about anyone in my entire life. No childhood crushes, no teen pining, nothing. For a while I thought I could live my whole life like this, and I probably could have if I didn’t meet you. But now that I’m with you, things are different. I look at you and I see purity, not filth. With you not having a quirk I suppose that adds to the whole thing as well. I guess what I’m saying is, you’re in my bubble right now and you’re still alive because I haven’t killed you yet...so yes. I’m comfortable with you and I’m getting more comfortable the longer I spend with you.” He poured himself out in full honesty and it felt like a weight was off his chest. 

“Then Chisaki, would you mind if maybe I did this...” Before he could react you leaned upward and placed a quick peck on the tip of his beaked mask. He paused feeling heat rise with himself. He reached up and gently rubbed the mask where you kissed it before removing the thing and revealing his bare face to you. “Just like that but...can you do it...on my lips?” He looked away as he asked this. Jumping right into it was still very new but he’s been wondering for a long time now what a kiss would be like. There must be a reason people do that right? You nodded a reached up to gently hold his face. You turned his head to face you and took a second to admire those soft eyes and the twinkle they seemed to hold for you. You closed your eyes as he took note of it and did the same. He silently wondered if he was supposed to keep them open or not but he would just follow your lead. As soon as your lips touched base with his, a zip of electricity ran up his spine and he instantly melted. You pulled back after a few seconds and gauged his reaction to the closed mouth kiss. He slowly reached up and touched his lips gently before mumbling a soft ‘wow’ and making you laugh lightly. “Is there more? I’ve seen it before. The other kind of kissing that people tend to do, Angel. Kiss me like that please.” He reached down without a second thought and grabbed your hands to give them a gentle but eager squeeze. “Kai the other kind of kiss leads to making out and I’m not so sure you can handle that.” You chuckled and he scoffed. 

“Please, I’m a grown man in case you forgot.”

“Yeah, and you’re just now having your first kiss in case you forgot.” You fired back and he looked down at his lap with a blush. “I’ll give it to you if you really feel like you’re ready.” You added on as he rubbed your hand with his thumb. He looked up at you in anticipation and mentally sighed in relief when he saw you close your eyes as you leaned in . He followed your lead and did the same. The zip of electricity from earlier was NOTHING compared to the intense fire that erupted in his gut from the way your tongue swiped across his lips before poking and prodding at them for entry. He complied and just about passed away from simply feeling your tongue make its way inside of his mouth. He decided to do the same and let himself explore the damp cavern before the two tongues wrestled for dominance. And then he did something he never thought about happening. 

He moaned.

It was quiet, but still loud enough for you to hear. You quickly pulled back in fear that you might be overwhelming him. While you checked his expression for any dismay, he was busy trying to make sense of the fog in his head right now. The heat wasn’t as intense now that you pulled away, but it was still burning nevertheless. He felt tingly, hot, and desperate for something he really didn’t understand. Most of all, his body reacted in such a way that a part of him was prominent that he only usually saw in the morning when he’d just be waking up. Before you could ask him if he was alright, he immediately captured you in another kiss, this time taking the lead himself. You felt yourself falling back gently onto the mattress beneath you and blissfully letting him take over. The kiss got more heated when he reached down to suddenly grip at your thigh. Positions shifted and you mindlessly found yourself wrapping your legs around his waste as he released another muffled moan into your mouth. Unfortunately you both had to pull away from each other tom breath and so he could also gather himself. “I...need some time.” He quickly spoke as he gathered himself and jetted out of the room, leaving you alone and confused about what just happened. Hopefully you hadn’t upset him an any way.

He quickly stepped down to the entry of the below base and pulled out his cellphone to call Chrono. “Meet me in my office right now. I don’t have time to waste.” He hung up the phone quickly and locked himself in his office until Hari came. By the time the man knocked on the door, Kai was trying to calm the turbulent waves in his mind. He moved to unlock the door and motioned for Hari to take a seat on the couch. Kai took a seat at his desk and stared at Chrono for a bit until the silver haired man spoke up. “Uhhh...Overhaul you good? You wanted to see me or something?” Kai let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, then he began to explain everything to Hari. Right now it wasn’t boss and worker...it was best friend confiding in best friend. When finished explaining, he paused and looked at Hari for a moment. Chrono chuckled and removed his bulky plague mask to show his expression. “Wait till Pops gets a load of this. He’s gonna lose his fucking mind.” Chrono laughed before having to dodge the stapler Kai threw at him. “This is no laughing matter! I called you in here for advice and you had better not breath a word of this to Pops or I’ll have your ass on the 5 o’clock news as a homicide case, you blockhead!” Hari simply laughed at his friend/boss’s empty threats as he reached down to pick up the stapler. “Look man, between you and me I’d have to say this is long over due. You’ve waited way too long and now look at you. You’ve got to manage your emotions sure, but I promise once you get bit by the sex bug you won’t be able to get out of it without going in...if you catch my drift.” Hari teased as he placed the stapler on Kai’s desk and sat in the chair to be much closer. 

“Sex bug. Didn’t they teach us this stuff in biology class in high school? That’s a disease. Lice or something right?” Kai questioned but Hari just laughed at him. “Dude no, what the fuck? You’re talking about crabs and no, it’s not that! It’s just a metaphor man. Listen, all I’m saying is this: The reason you’re so overwhelmed right now is because you’ve waited a long time and never experienced any of this. That’s why you literally popped a boner up there just from making out. You found somebody that lights your fire yknow? Somebody that gets you going. Now that you feel it for them, it’s not going to leave you alone until you have sex with Y/N got it?” Hari explained and Kai shuddered at the thought. “Got condoms? I have one in my wallet I can give you.” Hari spoke up again and Kai only shuddered more before looking at him in annoyance. “You don’t have to worry about that at least. The old crone has been leaving them hiding in all my stuff lately. There’s one in my desk right now but...I’m not so sure now is the right time to push for this type of thing. I mean I really want it but I feel like I should do some research first.” Hari looked at him with a bored expression. “Bro it’s not rocket science. Just put your thing in the hole...or get something put in your hole. Yada Yada yknow? I promise you its not that difficult, but if you really wanna research you can always get online and watch some po-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH HELP, CARRY ON WITH YOUR DAY!” Kai held a hand up and stopped his childhood friend from delving into the subject any further. Hari simply laughed and shook his head before standing up and preparing to exit the office. Before leaving he paused and looked back at his friend with a teasing smirk. “I’d research fast if I were you. The walls are thin and you don’t wanna have your first time while Pops is here. You should do it while the old man is gone still.” Then Hari left Kai to drown in his emotions like a good friend would do:)

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Alt Ending, Part 5

Hot take but finals kinda suck

First part

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Tag: @solangelo252

You’d think her body would be grateful that she was finally giving it food, but no. She put it in her mouth and instantly felt nauseous. It didn’t even want to go down her throat, and keeping it there felt basically impossible.

But Tim had looked so happy when she had tried, so she forced it down.

(Well, she forced some of it down. If he noticed that a good amount of the food she brought to her mouth actually disappeared into the sleeves and folds of her dress he didn’t say anything.)

Tim started coming by three times a day with food after that. She didn’t complain despite her discomfort, she had really missed him.

Also, he looked stressed out and/or exhausted whenever she saw him. She worried about him. They both had a tendency to overwork themselves when they hit blocks, hell she’d sometimes joined him in his week-long deep dives into cases, but now that she was an outsider looking in… she was kind of shocked she’d ever let it get that far for either of them. When was the last time he’d slept through the night? Taken proper time to clean himself, even? A while, she guessed from the deep bags under his eyes and the way his hair was frayed from running his fingers through it.

“Timmy,” she chirped.

He flashed her a tiny smile. “Hey,” he said, coming over and taking a seat beside her on the bed.

She took the bag from him and set it aside, much to his dismay, but then she reached over and dragged him into some cuddles and he suddenly had new concerns. He groaned into her shoulder.

“Bean, come on, I don’t want to sleep.”

She didn’t let go. “You need to.”

“Don’t have time.”

She rolled her eyes, bringing a hand up to start attempting to smooth out his hair. “You have to sleep eventually.”

“And I do!”

She didn’t answer, which he took to mean she didn’t believe him (a good assumption, she didn’t).

“I do! I get at least a few hours a week.”

“Wow, amazing. I take it back. You totally have a healthy sleep schedule.”

“Worry about yourself, first. You don’t sleep either,” he huffed, but he was starting to relax into her hold nonetheless.

“I’m also literally dead.”

“You used to say you’d sleep when you were dead.”

Marinette scoffed. “Well, to be fair, I thought I’d actually die when I died.”

He gave a short laugh, and she opted not to acknowledge that it was a little forced.

She yawned and laid back with his face in her shoulder. “I’m surprised none of the others have drugged you to get you to sleep yet.”

“They’re too busy drugging B --.” He winced just slightly. “They’ve just got a lot on their plates is all, I’m the least of their worries.”

She didn’t say anything about his tiny slip up, just gave a light hum to say she understood.

She didn’t dare to move until she was completely sure he had nodded off. Even then, she only did so to pick up the food he’d brought for her.

Her nose scrunched a little at the prospect of eating, but when she opened it and saw it was fried rice she perked up a little. She nibbled at her food.

Honestly, she didn’t know if it was working. It seemed to be, but then again most of the things that got better could be attributed to other causes. Her skin was gaining color again, but the bleach may have just started to wear out. She was feeling more energized, but then again she was now getting a total of four cups of coffee a day thanks to Tim and Jason fueling her addiction. Exercise was getting easier and she was packing on muscle again, but she was also working out enough with Dick for it to be explainable that way…

She didn’t know if it was working. She didn’t even know if she WANTED it to work. The plan had been ‘kill Bruce and then quickly off yourself before the others can react’ and not having an instant out was kinda problematic when it came to finishing that plan.

Not that the first part of that plan was working out for her, either. Bruce still hadn’t come to see her. She doubted he ever would at this point.

She didn’t even have a way out, as the door was automated and presumably opened by someone outside.

No. The only way she would ever leave was if she managed to ‘fix’ herself, and that wasn’t happening because there was nothing to fix! She would know. Her entire thing as Ladybug was fixing things.

She looked down at Tim. When he slept all the little wrinkles in his forehead smoothed to make him look much younger. She smiled a little at the sight, pressing a kiss to where she knew the creases usually were.

At least, even if her situation couldn’t be helped, she could still help others.

~

She’d come to expect a routine of sorts, so the moment it was broken even slightly her brain short-circuited.

Duke stood in the doorway as usual, but when she glanced past him…

“Where’s Cass?”

His grin disappeared a little, but he pulled his back to his face with ease. “Wow, I’m really feeling the love here, Mari.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, we both know Cass is the best person to ever exist.”

Duke nodded his agreement and came over to take a seat next to her. She cozied up to him as usual, curled under his arm as he pulled up their newest show on his laptop…

She had a lot of thoughts about Cass being missing.

On the one hand, she just missed her friend’s too-warm body pressed up against her and quiet complaints about how the actors were doing it all wrong.

On the other hand… Marinette was completely aware that they had Cass stopping by as much as she did to check on Marinette, to see if they were making any real progress with her. Cass was a human lie detector, able to detect when someone was going to be dishonest before they’d even realized it themselves, and they’d be stupid not to take advantage that. So, the fact that they were no longer making Cass drop in as often… either they thought she was doing better, or that she never would do better.

Marinette hoped it was the first. She knew it was the second.

She found it harder than usual to enjoy Duke’s snide comments about how dumb and cliche some of the characters were. She turned and pressed her face into his side. The glasses on the bridge of her nose dug into her skin.

Fuck. She was never getting out of there, was she?

She felt his free hand come up to run through her hair and she sighed.

“Duke…”

He pressed pause on the show.

“Tim told me you’re a meta, that you can control light. Can you do it for me?”

There was a beat.

“Why do you ask?”

She laughed a little. “Does it matter? Can’t I just be curious about why my favorite brother didn’t even bother to tell me that he has powers?”

“I thought you already knew. It’s common knowledge.”

She huffed. “Maybe I just prefer to be told things than meticulously look through every piece of information to figure it out.”

“What kind of bat are you?” He joked.

She winced and the hand in his shirt balled it just a fraction tighter. She didn’t respond.

There was a few seconds before he sighed and moved his hand from his hair to her chin, gently pulling her face out of where it was hidden in his side. She refused to meet his eyes.

It was silent again, neither of them sure what to say.

“Here,” he said after a moment, putting his free hand out and making light dance across his palm.

Her face lit up, literally and figuratively, at the sight of the tiny ball of light. She leaned a little closer.

“Aw, it looks like a tiny sun!”

He laughed a little. “Yeah. I can also…”

There was a moment of silence as he concentrated and the tiny ball of light split into the colors of the rainbow. She giggled, reaching out to cup his hand in hers. It was the first non-artificial light she’d seen in months, the first rainbow she’d seen since… Paris, actually.

Well, even if she wouldn’t ever see the outside world again, at least she could still have this little fake sun. It was basically the same, just as good, she told herself. She ignored the tears rolling down her cheeks that were telling her otherwise.

~

She tossed the plastic spoon she’d stolen from one of her meals in the air idly.

The plan had been to turn it into Baby’s First Shank but that probably wasn’t going to work out. Pen to the throat was at about a .01% chance of working, attacking him with a spoon-knife needed a few more zeroes added to that already insanely small number. She gave it a .000000001% chance at best.

Then again, the other option was trying to strangle someone who had an insane height and weight advantage to death before someone else could interfere...

She sighed to herself and put the spoon in her teeth, starting to pull.

She didn’t get very far before she heard the metallic whoosh of the door opening and she barely glanced up to see Dick.

He stared at her from the doorway, his eyebrows slowly raising as he watched her attempt to bite an edge into a spoon of all things.

She pulled it from her mouth with a ‘pop’.

“I think your eyebrows are trying to escape,” she told him.

He blinked at her before rolling his eyes and walking inside fully. “Thanks for the assist. Would have lost them otherwise,” he said sarcastically.

“I’ve seen you lose your phone three minutes after putting it down, Dickie, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

He gasped and rested a hand over her heart. “You think that low of me?”

“Lower. I was being nice.”

Dick pouted and walked over to the bed. She didn’t think much of it until he was diving onto her stomach. She put her hands out in an attempt to soften the blow, but it wasn’t enough to save her. She groaned in pain as his extremely hard head made contact with her not-so-hard stomach.

“FUCK. This is why your parents called you Dick, y’know!”

He only laughed at her.

Despite herself, she gave him a smile.

She rested her head back in the pillows for a moment (mostly just to catch all the breath she’d lost) before pushing him off. “Ready?”

He groaned into her comforter before rolling onto the floor. “‘Kay.”

Marinette grinned as she took a seat beside him, starting her usual stretches. He pushed himself up to sit with minimal groaning and started working on his shoulders.

It was quiet for a while as they stretched.

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek and kept her eyes on her foot when she spoke next: “Dick?”

She could feel his gaze on her.

“I… can I have some more stuff? Everything here is so boring. I just… I want new things to do. Or, at least, new things to look at.”

There was a long silence between them. Anxiety bubbled under her skin. She switched legs so she could gauge his expression through her bangs. His expression was carefully neutral.

She cringed.

“Obviously I’m not ungrateful! You guys have all been really nice and accommodating! I get food and a phone and, honestly, that’s fine --!”

“Mari!”

Her mouth snapped closed.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize. Anyone would be bored here. I can talk to them. It’ll probably depend on what you want.”

She finally looked at him properly, eyes wide. She really hadn’t been expecting that to work.

He slowly pulled his legs to him to sit criss-cross applesauce, head resting on his hand. “I can probably get some baking things, a sketchbook, just blunt objects in general. Deadly, but not before someone could get there.”

Marinette nodded her understanding, a smile making its way across her face.

“You’re the best.”

“You constantly say Duke and Cass are the best.”

She was torn between agreeing with herself and flattering him. Since she wanted something, she decided on flattery: “That was, like, a few hours ago. I’ve grown since then. You’re my favorite now, Dickie.”

“Can I get that as my ringtone?”

“Only if you only use it to mess with Jay.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it.

~

The door whoosed open and she barely moved her head to look at it.

She froze.

Bruce?

No. No way. There was no way in hell.

But was there? Cass HAD stopped coming. Maybe she had somehow convinced them that everything was working out and everything was fine.

Marinette hadn’t done anything differently, though, so that probably wasn’t it…

Oh. Oh shit.

Maybe she was actually going insane. Because there was no way the bats would have made that kind of mistake by letting Bruce in when she was still intent on murdering him. He had to be a hallucination, because nothing else really made sense. Kwami, Tim was going to be SO smug about this one.

Actually, no, he didn’t have to know.

Her gaze slipped away from Fake Bruce and back to the dots on her ceiling. Because, as everyone knows, that if you don’t acknowledge hallucinations they go away…

“Marinette,” Fake Bruce said, trying to trick her into outing herself as losing it.

“Marinette,” he tried again, starting his way over.

She did her best to ignore the footsteps and the way the bed shifted when he sat down. No wonder schizophrenics fell for this shit, this was all so real…

Except... weren’t schizophrenics not supposed to be able to tell what was real and what wasn’t? Wouldn’t her knowing (thinking?) he was fake be an indication that he was actually real? Or was that just her mind trying to justify believing it?

Marinette bit inside of her cheek and let herself look at Fake Bruce again.

He cracked a smile for her. A hand reached over and pushed some hair away from her face. “Hey,” he said.

She hesitated.

It would suck if this all was fake, the others would get confirmation and she really wouldn’t have a way out. But if it was real then this was her only shot. If it was real Cass would be watching the cameras to see what she was thinking and she would know for sure that Marinette was still intent on killing Bruce…

Fuck.

Marinette pushed herself into a sitting position and looked Maybe-Bruce up and down before grabbing him by the front of his suit and pulling him into a hug. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes when he hugged her back.

“Fake.”

The man tensed underneath her and then sighed as he pulled back.

He gave her an awkward smile. “I’m sorry, Marinette.”

She shook her head slightly and fell back. With a flick of her wrists the knife she’d created out of her plastic spoon was in her hands and she absently tossed it at the hallucination. Either it would make him disappear or it would look like it stabbed him and she could pretend that it actually happened.

But then it didn’t do either of those things.

Her eyebrows knit together when the spife shattered upon impact.

He looked unconcerned as he gently swept all the pieces into his hand and then put them in his pockets.

“The fuck?”

“Language,” he chided lightly.

She grinned. “You really need to work on your ‘Bruce’. Accepting a hug that quickly is one thing but chiding someone for language? In OUR family? I’m pretty sure he gave that up by Jason.”

The man chuckled and shook his head. “I’m Superman.”

“Oh.” She blinked a few times before shrugging to herself. “Okay. You look just like Bruce. It’s kinda creepy.”

“Yeah, trust me, we know. It’s pretty helpful, though. One time a person tried to assassinate Bruce and ended up fighting me. It wasn’t their day.”

She smiled a little, but it didn’t last very long. She fell back in her pillows and glared at the ceiling. “This sucks.”

“I’m sorry this all happened to you. You’re just a kid.”

She rolled her eyes. She’d long-since given up on denying that something had happened to her. Not because she no longer believed it, but because it wasn’t worth the effort. No one ever believed her when she said it.

(Could she blame them? No. She almost believed it herself just a few moments before. Still annoying, though.)

Instead of saying any of that, though, she brought a grin to her face.

“You and B should switch houses for April Fools. See if anyone notices anything.”

~

She really should have noticed something was up when her coffee didn’t energize her at all.

It had all been going fine. She was making Jason dispose of all the pieces of food she’d used sleight of hand to get away with not eating (she was still a little bitter about him stealing her pen and this was the most she could really do to get back at him, compromised as she was). They made idle conversation, mostly just about how Damian had got himself a new pet cat that he had named BatCat (though, apparently, they had heard him slip up and call him Charles a few times). They debated over how good that name was and the merit of Jason’s suggestion -- BatPussy, of course -- as she drank her third cup of coffee of the day.

It was about halfway through her drink that she began to notice that something was off. She squinted at Jason suspiciously.

“Decaf?” She asked, her voice worryingly sweet.

He raised his eyebrows and tried to look unimpressed despite stepping back a good half-step. “Please, if it was decaf classical conditioning still would’ve made it work at least a little.”

She opened her mouth to retort, then realized he was right. Or, at least, she was pretty sure. She couldn't seem to think of anything against it.

She frowned, looking down at her drink again and swirling the contents around. She drank the rest of it, trying to figure out why exactly it wasn’t working.

Was she already at the point where caffeine had little effect on her again? She didn’t think she was that bad yet… hell, she probably couldn’t be because she was depending on others to give her her fix…

She shook her head slightly and then quickly realized that was a bad idea. Pain stabbed through her skull and she stumbled into Jason. The plastic thermos slipped from her fingertips and went rolling across the floor. Her head crashed into his chest and arms were quick to wrap around her.

“You got shitty coffee, try a different place next time,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

He laughed a little. “Yeah, okay, kid. I’ll be sure to do that.”

She nodded as much as her headache would allow and felt the arms around her slip down to pick her up. She blinked her eyes open blearily and regretted it when the light attempted to murder her via knife to the head.

Heh. Little light particles with little knives.

Wait.

Did she get a concussion? Somehow? Without getting hit?

She buried her face in his shoulder and it was then, as he set her in bed and tucked her in, that she realized what had happened.

“Bitch,” she murmured above whatever drug they had put in her drink.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and she could do little more than scrunch up her nose and vaguely wave him off. Her eyes fell closed again.

~

Marinette woke up a while later.

The first thing she noticed was that the lights were dimmer, something she didn’t have to open her eyes to see because her head wasn’t pounding as much.

Then she realized a person was with her. They had entwined themselves around her, tangled their limbs with hers. They needn’t have bothered, everything felt like lead. She wouldn’t be moving for quite some time.

… why was she being held down? Oh no. That was probably bad, huh?

Marinette made a sound in the back of her throat and started trying to shift away from the person pressed against her back. She needed to see who they were. They didn’t bother to tighten their hold on her, she wasn’t really getting anywhere.

In fact, a hand stopped holding her down. Instead, it came up to pet her hair.

Oh? This was nice.

A voice by her head told her it was all okay. After a moment she realized she recognized that voice. She smiled sleepily. Cass. She liked Cass. She pressed closer to her and was rewarded with a hand rubbing up and down one of her arms.

She nearly fell asleep again. Cass was safe, Marinette was safe… the warmth against her and the soothing touch… of course, it certainly helped that the drug was still in her system and she was exhausted...

But then her mind wandered back to her first question. Why WAS Cass holding her down? Why did they drug her in the first place?

She moved so her hair could block some of the light and then cautiously cracked her eyes open.

The batboys were all moving things inside almost silently. Jason was carrying an entire fridge on his own. Dick and Damian were arguing over the positioning of the table they had just brought in through angry hand motions. Tim and Duke were working together on… was that a gaming set?

And she was being held down because the door was wide open.

Marinette looked at the doorway for just a moment longer. She allowed herself to imagine getting out and swinging through the city with her lasso, allowed herself to pretend she could lay in the grass, allowed herself to believe that she could see the sun and the stars and just breathe fresh air again…

And then she closed her eyes and sunk into Cass’s grip.

What was the point in trying? Even if she could somehow beat out all six of the people in the room with her and get past whatever security Bruce had to have outside of the room all while drugged… then what? No money or idea where she was… and she’d be running from the bats of all people…

Yeah. Useless. She curled up and allowed sleep to take her again.

~

Quite a while later she woke up and blinked a few times when she realized she wasn’t the only person in bed. At first she thought it was just Cass or Tim, they were the most likely culprits, but then she realized everyone had managed to cram themselves onto the bed with her. Her and Cass had gotten brushed to the side of the bed to make space for Tim, Dick, and Damian. Jason had collapsed across the end of the bed -- presumably for space, but Duke was laying half on top of him so that obviously hadn’t worked out.

Marinette smiled faintly and buried her face back into the crook of Tim’s neck.

~

When she woke up again, most of the drug flushed from her system (somehow…?), she thought she was alone.

This was fine. She was able to stretch out and sit up.

She blinked when she saw Damian, who was sitting on her floor and playing a video game.

Huh? Video game?

She looked around her room confusedly. The bats had basically made her a one-room apartment, complete with kitchenette and a tiny study area. Of course, it was much higher quality than the apartment she’d had, with a high tech gaming system and a little dining area and holy shit that was a MINI LIBRARY?

Wild.

“You’re finally up.”

She hummed lightly as an agreement. She crawled over to the end of the bed and smiled when he handed her a twizzler. It was objectively one of the worst candies, but she liked having something to do. She twirled it in her hand idly.

“Do you think… do you think it’s working?”

She frowned confusedly and dropped off the bed to sit beside him on the second beanbag chair. She chanced a quick glance in his direction to gauge how he was feeling... his expression didn’t let anything on other than that he was thinking hard, though she was pretty sure that was about the game.

“Gonna elaborate on that?”

He clicked his tongue. “Are you going to join the Undead Robins Club?”

She grinned at him. “I wasn’t a Robin.”

“You know what I mean.”

Her smile disappeared a little and she trained her eyes on the game. “I don’t know.”

“You know we never will know for sure, right?”

She blinked. She hadn’t expected anyone to acknowledge it. They were the bats, they were never going to chance taking off her glasses because if they were wrong and she WASN’T better… well, it wasn’t the kind of mistake they could easily come back from.

“Yeah, I know,” she said after a few moments.

“Do you care?”

“Doesn't really matter if I do. It won’t change anything.”

He frowned. “That’s not answering my question.”

She bit her cheek. “I… yes. I care. It still doesn’t matter.”

He looked like he was going to argue, but instead he just went back to playing the game.

“Damiiiiiiiii…” she whined and, when he gave a vague grunt to show he was paying attention, she continued with “... shouldn’t I get to play first? It’s mine.”

“You slept in too long,” he said without looking up.

She huffed. “Only ‘cause I was drugged!”

“Unfortunate.”

She got off the beanbag chair and whacked him over the head with it. He barely acknowledged it outside of an annoyed click of his tongue.

She huffed and pulled the chair back to herself to sit again. “Is it two player?”

“Nope.”

“You’re a bitch.”

He clicked his tongue again.

She pouted for a little while longer before looking back at the screen with a smile. “... heard you got a cat named Charles. Wanna talk about him?”

Damian’s face lit up. “Can I?”

“Only if you let me play.”

He looked pained. If he gave it to her then he’d be giving her something she’d want, which was a sibling no-no, but if he didn’t then she probably wouldn’t listen to him gush about his cat. A few moments went by before he reluctantly handed over the controller.

She beamed and scooted her chair over to rest her head on his shoulder. She could feel him stiffen underneath her but, when she didn’t move again outside of what was necessary to play the game, he relaxed again.

“I thought you were going to listen,” he chided lightly when she didn’t take a break between levels.

“I can listen and play.”

Damian sighed a little and shook his head.

“You don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want --.”

“I’m getting to it! So, he’s a black cat that apparently hadn’t been adopted because everyone thought he was evil so the pet store was going --.”

~

Marinette noticed something was up the minute the door opened.

First of all, it was Duke and Damian. That’s all that really needs to be said. Those two together… it’s never a good thing.

Secondly, they were there as Signal and Robin. Most of the time the others avoided even talking about their lives as vigilantes for fear of setting her off in one way or another, but here they were showing up in their suits? No, something weird was going on.

“Hey, Mari, can we skip a fight and you just put a bag over your head and let us pick you up?” Tried Duke.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “You want to…? Huh?”

“We don’t really have much time to explain. I’ll tell you on the way.”

Damian held up a potato sack and some twine, which really wasn’t all that encouraging.

She hesitated. “... what’s something only you two would know?”

“Really?” Said Damian with more than a little exasperation.

“Hey, we’re all bats here. I’m not moving until you prove you’re who you say you are.”

(Technically, if they were really Duke and Damian, they could fight her and do it anyways. She probably couldn't beat both of them at once. Still, that kind of fight would hurt all of them and she really didn’t want to have to do it at the moment.)

Duke hesitated before shrugging. “Your favorite ice cream flavor is mint. Which I don’t understand. Just brush your teeth if you like that taste so much.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Alright, you’re who you say you are. Robin?”

“… early on I lied and said that Nightwing’s real hero name was actually BatNightwing to mess with you both.”

She frowned. “I forgot about that. You’re a dick.”

“No, Nightwing’s a Dick. He’s a Damian.”

Marinette was THIS CLOSE to fighting them anyways.

But she didn’t. She was kinda curious about where all this was going. So, she allowed them to bind her hands and slip a bag over her head. Arms wrapped around her -- she didn’t really care who it was -- and she was lifted off the ground. Then, they were walking.

Part of her wondered if this was some kind of test. They were checking to see how compliant she was or how likely she would be to run once outside. Maybe they had Superman on call in case she tried to escape.

She really couldn’t tell.

She didn’t think that they had any reason to take her out of the perfectly safe and well-stocked place they had put her in.

Maybe her location had been compromised and they were moving her to a backup? No, that didn’t make sense. Duke made sense for transport, Damian didn’t. Damian was one of the worst fighters in the family (he was in no way BAD at fighting, of course, it was just a byproduct of being in the game the shortest amount of time and not being a meta) and he was the second most likely person to end up fighting her after Jason. What the fuck?

Wait, Duke said he’d explain on the way.

“What’s going on?”

“New idea on how to bring you back,” said Duke simply.

Well, she guessed that was more information than she’d previously had. She’d take it for now.

She heard a quiet whooshing noise and frowned confusedly, only to feel herself get set down… somewhere. She felt carpeting underneath her, which meant she was in… a house? No. A car, she thought as she noticed the quiet hum of an engine. She’d been put in the fucking trunk. She kicked out as much as she could without knowing exactly where they were and gave a cry of protest, but then the lid was clicked over her head and she was thrown into uncomfortably complete silence.

She scowled to herself. She shouldn’t have thrown her spife at Superman, it would have been really useful right then. She tested the bindings against her hands and winced at how tight they were. Did they really use zip ties? Those were notoriously bad for circulation.

… oh. Yeah. She was dead. That actually wasn’t that bad, then.

Still annoying. Hard to get out of. Assholes. She wondered if it was worth dislocating her arms…

Yeah. Probably. If she could get out then she would be OUT.

She flipped herself onto her stomach. She pulled her feet up to her arms and then started pushing back. Her body strained in protest and she bit down on the front of the bag over her head to stop herself from making any sounds.

And then she felt a pop in her left shoulder and a flare of pain and the makeshift gag wasn’t enough to hold back her sobs. Her arm throbbed and it was only made worse when they reached the city proper and the roads started getting choppy. Every little bump in the road sent a new wave of pain rolling through her and all she could do was ride it out.

They started hitting smoother roads what felt like hours later... it was kind of concerning because she had no clue where they could be, those were uncommon in Gotham, but at least she no longer felt like she was going to die every few seconds.

She took a few seconds to bring her breathing back to normal before she started slowly wiggling her arms out under her butt and legs and then they were in front of her. Great. She picked herself up as much as she could in the tiny space, checked her angle mentally, relaxed her muscles, and then dropped down on her shoulder to get it back in place.

She breathed out a sigh of relief. It felt weird and still kind of hurt but at least it was mostly better.

She pulled the bag off of her head and relished in the slightly fresher air.

She looked down at the zip ties on her wrists and she sighed a little. Time to do that hack that looked stupid but actually worked if the kidnappers were stupid enough to leave you alone.

She brought her feet up, untied the laces of her shoes, and tied them back around the ties. Then she set to work trying to saw at the zip tie.

She paused when she heard the low rumbling of a plane. Were they near an airport? Oh. That was going to be a problem. She went faster.

Unfortunately, Marinette didn’t get very far before there was a click and the trunk opened.

She cried out in pain at the sudden light and squeezed her eyes shut, turning to press her face into the carpeted interior.

Hands grabbed her and pulled her out of the trunk. Before she could do much to look around so she could get her bearings and make herself a portal, the bag was forced over her head again and a strong grip on her arm (the good one, thankfully) kept her from pulling it off again. Then someone knelt in front of her and fixed her shoelaces.

“Really, NightMare?” Duke said, unimpressed.

“In my defense, I was left unsupervised.”

Damian scoffed.

Someone picked her up again and she sighed as they carried her along. They were definitely at an airport. She could hear people milling about. She was sure it was Gotham, too; she could feel a few stares, but most people seemed comfortable with the vigilantes among them.

Then came the normal airport stuff. Walking. Some arguing over whether she counted as luggage or if she could go through the metal detector with them. Sitting. A little chatting with civilians. More walking. More sitting. Very light chatter, just formalities and asking for drinks (Duke, who she figured out was the person carrying her, slipped a box of orange juice up her bag so she could have something). And then they were in the air.

After some time in the air the bag and zip ties were removed. She kept her eyes closed to let them adjust to light naturally and instead focused on rubbing feeling back into her hands.

One English alphabet later, she opened her eyes.

They were in a private plane (or was it a jet?), which explained why it was as quiet as it was. Damian was drinking a glass of water and reading something on his phone. Duke was nibbling at some complimentary pretzels and working a Rubix Cube. They both glanced in her direction from time to time, but they seemed pretty confident that she couldn’t do anything while they were in the air (which was true, but annoying).

She looked around a little more and found that there were no other bats.

“Um… where’re…?” She trailed off, unsure.

They stopped glancing in her direction, ignoring her and her question. The frown that had been on her face since pretty much when they’d first taken her from the room deepened.

“Do they… do they know what’s going on?”

The silence spoke volumes.

She rested her head in her hand. “I’m going to need something stronger than a juice box for this.”

Duke sighed but called a friendly looking woman inside to get her some wine. Marinette and Duke sipped at a glass each (Damian wasn’t allowed any, something Marinette took a little too much joy in). She scrutinized the two over the rim of her glass.

“Are you going to explain or let me guess? Because letting me guess is going to end up with me assuming you’re doing something way worse than you actually are.”

Damian sighed a little. “It’s hard to explain.”

“We’re in a plane. I’m going to guess we have time. Start talking.”

“We drugged them all -- except Orphan, she’s just out doing patrols and won’t know what’s going on for a good few hours -- and grabbed you.”

Duke gave Damian a pleading look to make him continue for them.

Damian, reluctantly, put down his phone to talk. “Signal and I have an idea on how to bring you back from the dead. The others won’t like it, especially not Red Hood, so we’re making the executive decision to not ask.”

Marinette didn’t know a lot about when Jason had been resurrected, it was a sensitive subject so it was avoided pretty much at all costs. All she’d gathered was that it was a rather messy experience for everyone involved.

She rested her head on her hand and then looked back down at her drink. She snatched the bottle from the table and, when Duke protested, set him a glare and started drinking directly from it. They were actually going to bring her back through probably shady means. She was NOT drunk enough for this shit.

~

She got stuffed in a suitcase when they left, which was extremely insulting (and a little embarrassing, if she were honest).

She rested her head against the side of the suitcase and listened to the dull thrum of people talking on the other side. She vaguely recognized the language, both Nino and Damian both spoke it when frustrated, but the words were all Greek to her.

Well, they were all Arabic, but you get the point.

~

She didn’t even realize she had been asleep until she was awoken. Rather abruptly. The zipper for the suitcase was opened and she tumbled out. Marinette cursed in French as she hit the ground and laid there, her entire body aching from not moving for so long. She hadn’t known her face could get pins and needles, she wished she could go back to her blissful ignorance.

“Are you sure about this? You want to save her?” A woman’s voice said above her, sounding a little skeptical.

Marinette forced herself to roll over so she could glare at whoever it was, she knew when she was being insulted, and then she blinked up at the new person.

A tall woman with dark skin and hair and a body to die for stood above her, hands on her hips.

“Holy shit, Dami. You got terrible genes. She’s gorgeous and you’re… you? What?”

Duke hid laughter behind his hand and Damian scoffed.

Amusement flickered behind Talia’s ‘I could kill you before you could even scream’ expression. “I’ve changed my mind. I like her.”

“Cool,” said Marinette as she quickly pushed herself to her feet. Her body wasn’t ready for that, but that was the least of her concerns. The pretty lady was ushering her along and Marinette wasn’t going to hold her up if she could help it.

“How did you die?” Talia said, which was an interesting choice for conversation.

Marinette shrugged, though, unconcerned. “I don’t know, really, there wasn’t this ‘oh, wow, I’m dead’ moment. My guess is I either drowned in acid or died of dehydration at some point. Does it change anything or…?”

“No. Just curious.”

“Oh. Good.”

“... do you not know why you’re here?” Asked Talia carefully after a moment’s contemplation.

Marinette shook her head. “Nah, they’ve been avoiding telling me. I assume it’s painful.”

“... yes. Very.”

The four lapsed into silence after that.

Marinette felt weirdly on edge as they walked through the facility, her hands rubbing the goosebumps that were prickling along her arms. The further they walked, the more on edge she felt. They were approaching something unnatural, something so undeniably WRONG, and she needed to GO.

But Damian and Duke were behind her, probably sensing her unease, and running ahead would only get her there faster… so she walked.

She bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to ground herself.

But, the moment they stepped into the room, she froze.

Green water. That apparently hurts.

Acid.

“FUCK.”

Duke was ready for her to run, apparently, stood in front of the only exit and ready for a fight before she could even get a full step away from the hell that awaited her.

“No no no no no no wait it’s fine I actually don’t mind being dead it’s fine guys please --.”

Damian grabbed her arms and she choked out a sob,

“Damian god damn it I was kidding about the mom thing you’re perfectly attractive or whatever I promise I really didn’t think it would hurt you that much we don’t need to do this let’s tALK IT OUT --!”

“It’s not about that --!”

Duke managed to get a hold on one of her legs and lifted and all she had to struggle against either of them was a foot and she was SO fucked --.

“PLEASE DUKE PLEASE I DON’T KNOW WHAT I DID BUT I PROMISE I CAN BE BETTER YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS PLEASE PLEASE LET ME GO I’LL BE FINE WE CAN FIGURE SOMETHING OUT PLEASE --.”

Talia grabbed her last leg and she sobbed as she thrashed around uselessly. They started dragging her towards the acid. Nothing to do no way to run no help in sight no --.

“PLEASE! I PROMISE I’LL BE BETTER PLEASE JUST LET ME GO!”

And they did. They let her go and she fell into the acid.

[theglowyscorpio]

all set | eren x reader

a/n: this is a story in the making, currently available at AO3 and Wattpad. If you like it, please don't hesitate to give me some kudos, leave a comment or maybe follow me on my social media! <3 Any feedback is highly appreciated since I'm just getting started!

pairing: eren yeager x female reader

tags: mature content, alternate universe (modern setting), college/university, recreational drug use, implied sexual content, M/F, F/F, the author is not religious lmao

word count: 4.3k

current chapters: 2/?

playlist: this one was made with a particular playlist in mind. they are really great songs that help to convey this chapter, so I hope you have a time to check them out! :)

a. slomosa - kevin b. upsahl - drugs c. rosenfeld - like u d. kaiba - overdose e. lil kapow - tinman f. bodega - how did this happen!?

***

all set

I lost count of how many parties I went to this week. There was one at Shina, another at... Sasha's. Wait, was it? Or Ymir's? Honestly, both their houses look fairly similar and we always see the same faces over and over again, regardless of where we are getting wasted. Definitely two at my house. The timeline is blurry at this point. If my liver could talk, it would spit out "Screw you, Eren." and I wouldn't be able to disagree.

Classes will start next week so everyone is acting like we're going to stop doing all this for the rest of the semester. That never happens.

I barely enter Reiner's house and the music is already piercing my head. My ears will soon tell me to go screw myself too. The bass was loud. But it was good.

— Hey, finally — Reiner says, giving a hard slap in my back. I can't even get mad at him because he probably didn't mean for it to hurt. Fucking strong bastard.

— Sorry. Lost track of time.

— You know where the things are — he leaves me behind and disappears through the noisy music.

It's hot inside. August has been particularly cruel this year. I'm using a black t-shirt, which is luckily pretty thin, and my black Adidas pants that are somewhat breathable. My hair is in a bun. I will probably be sweating soon, though. Reiner's AC won't do miracles with this amount of people since it is specially packed today. I guess I might see some new faces tonight, huh.

This fact already makes things more interesting.

I walk through the room and then arrive in the kitchen. Connie and Sasha are there.

— Eren!! — I barely open my mouth to talk and Sasha is already giving me whatever weird drink they made. Their drinks sometimes are... unusual, for the lack of a better word. Most of the time they are simply pure shit. They call it scout's fuel, always the same name regardless of what's inside. Maybe that's why my liver hates me so much.

— Thanks — I'm already used to the goddamn gasoline taste — I guess you both want to get us wasted tonight.

— It's our personal mission, so enjoy the fuel — Connie says laughing, raising his plastic cup. I love this duo – who doesn't? – and I can't help but laugh with them, even though it tastes so bad — Everyone is already here, come on — I follow them and find all the familiar faces I've seen all week: Bertholdt, Historia, Ymir, Mikasa, Annie, Armin, Jean, everyone.

The girls look hot, even though I'm used to them. Either way, I avoid hooking up with my friends since the last time didn't work so well. It's better to avoid Mikasa today.

We all sit together while drinking. I light a joint I had already prepared at home and say — Am I crazy or is Reiner's party bigger than usual? —, releasing the smoke a few seconds after. This one is the best grass we could get around our area, I've saved it primarily for today and now I see that might have been a great decision on my part. I'm glancing through the room and looking for some girls, might share this shit with one - or a few - of them later.

— Thank god, I was tired of seeing your ugly faces every fucking time — Jean says. The girls look at him and he rushes to add — I mean, the boys, of course. It's always nice looking at all of you, ladies.

It's not enough to avoid Annie's kick anyway — We can say the same of you, horse face.

Reiner arrives at the perfect time and explains — Since the new semester starts Monday, news about today traveled fast and we got a lot more company than usual.

— Do you know all of them, Reiner? — Historia asks — I've talked to a bunch of them tonight and there are people from all over the campus and from all years as well — Historia always looks pretty, her blonde hair shining even in the low light of the party. Guys make a line to talk to her at all parties so there's no surprise that she's already familiarized with the whole scenario. I wonder what Ymir thinks of it. Probably followed her during this little field trip.

— Hell, no — he grabs the joint of my hand and sucks deeply — I know some of them and some are Bertholdt's friends but there are some random people.

— I bet Reiner knows a lot of the girls — I take my joint back from his fingers — I assume they aren't Bertholdt's friends, though — and grin.

— Hey, I don't see you with any new company either, dude — Bertholdt tries to grab my weed as well, but I avoid his advances. He instead grabs my cup and drinks all of it, leaving me empty. He makes a funny face at the taste. Suit yourself, man, I think to myself, laughing on the inside.

— Yeah, but I'll work on it in a sec — I tease him knowing that he can't handle much of Sasha and Connie's fuel. He always knocks out before everyone. I hope he realizes he needs to stay awake to try anything with Annie. Someday. He simply never gets there.

Hange arrives almost falling over Ymir and spilling her drink on the floor in the process — I think we should all make a toast and make this last party a wild ride!!! — her yelling stabbing us louder than the music.

— Bitch, you are this fucking drunk already? — Ymir says to her, holding Hange's weight on her back — What the hell did the gasoline duo do to you?

— Okay okay, enough with the questions, let me fill your cups because this is the night! — Sasha says, just pouring all that mystery liquid that soon will go straight to our heads — Also, Reiner, where's the food?

We raise our plastic cups and Connie yells — To the new semester! — and we drink, feeling the immediate burn on our throats. It's hard being a scout.

— I need to get laid today — Jean says as he lays his back on the couch — Gonna arrive for the classes pretty motivated next week — he then rests his left arm at the back pillow, behind Mikasa's head.

— You should start roaming, then — her cold delivery puts Jean's subtle attempt at flirting six feet under the ground, as usual. It was pretty damn quick, but I could notice Mikasa glancing at me and then looking the other way. Yeah, I think I need to start roaming soon, too.

— That sounds great, then let's do that!!! — Hange grabs Jean by the arm and they disappear amongst the crowd.

— When all this fun ends, I'll be the one who will probably have to take him home after he gets slapped by some girls — Armin and Jean live with me so we normally go back together. Armin is the responsible one between us, which is not exactly hard considering how Jean and I are — Gonna at least drink some beer before that happens.

— I'll go with you, this drink sucks — Annie says, finishing the drink anyway and following him. We always drink the last drop of it, we never learn.

The girls went dancing, the music was exceptionally good today. A lot of bands I already liked plus some I have never heard before. I need to remember to ask Reiner for this playlist later. Connie was already surrounded by a different group, everyone likes to talk to him. He is popular. The rest dispersed as well and I could hear Hange's screams far away. This is going to be a night for her, indeed.

I start walking around, meeting a lot of people from my classes and others from the campus in general. I talk to all of them and drink a lot in the process, which feeds my need for nicotine every time. I grab my pack of cigarettes and while smoking, I see Levi.

— I must be dreaming — I say, letting the smoke leave my lips with a smile. It reaches him and looks at me with a deadly expression. He is smoking as well, but he only admits one specific brand of cigarettes and hates all the others. Levi usually doesn't show up at these "brat" parties, as he likes to say, since he's a few years older than us. I normally see him at Shina's, which is a popular club slash bar near our university. He's the owner so we all met him there, after going so many times. Shina has the best parties and the best drinks of all the clubs near us. And it couldn't be any other way, since Levi is a perfectionist. There's also a small stage there, where indie bands perform from time to time. My band does some gigs there sometimes.

— Hey — he replies, as cold as ever. He's Mikasa's cousin, so they have the same expressions and hard-to-approach vibe — Already high, I see.

— Always. In fact, today I hope to be higher than usual. What miracle brings you here?

— Some people from the staff decided to come here today so there are fewer brats to piss me off — he drinks what's probably a high priced whiskey and continues — and there's a new girl at the club so we have been showing her the area for a few weeks now.

— There's a lot of new girls here today — although I know Levi doesn't give a crap.

— So? — yeah, he doesn't.

Levi is a pretty successful business owner and even I have to admit that he's hot – is not only common knowledge but a mutual agreement between everyone –, so girls are always trying to get him, but he doesn't screw most of them. He doesn't fuck brats, period. He says he doesn't have the patience. That makes the girls even more desperate. He has the highest standards of every guy I know. When he was still in university – the same we all go –, he screwed not only the hottest girls but also the professors - which went after him and not the other way around. At least that's what I've heard. I think Levi never had to actively look for any girl, to be honest.

I can only laugh at his reply. That's just so him.

— If you want more stuff than what's already in your system, Floch is over there.

— I want, actually. I was going to look for him — I see Floch's red hair among some folks. Floch is usually as busy as Connie but with less than half of the charisma.

He finishes his cigarette, blowing its last white smoke into the air, and we both hear a loud HELL YEAH!! coming from all the other way across the room — Tsk, is that Hange?

— Pfft, it was before, I think it's Sasha now — he doesn't laugh at my reply. He never does. I think hell would freeze while heaven catches on fire.

I think about the music again. It's so good today, what the hell — Hey Levi, don't you think this playlist is too high quality for a Reiner party? I don't get it, his music taste is always pure trash.

— That's from our new girl — he drinks the last drops of his whiskey and starts to leave — You might find her around here — he then suddenly stops and looks at me — Don't get your hopes up, though.

I am not able to ask what he meant by that because he leaves too quickly. Time to look for Floch.

— Hey, Flo-

— Here.

— You didn't even let me finish.

— I know what you want. You are not in the mood for cocaine so you want MD instead, blah-blah-blah-blah. Is that kind of night — he pauses for mere seconds — Am I wrong, Eren?

— Nope, right as usual — Floch is the main person you go to when you need drugs. I mean, good drugs. He looks like your standard rich boy – which he is, by the way – that can do no wrong, but you can get the best stuff from him. I've always found this funny. The weed I have today was his work. He knows my taste well.

Reiner's frat house is huge, so there's plenty of room to walk. I'm approached by a bunch of girls on the way but for some reason, none of them piques my interest. I am pretty set on going after something new today and I have no problem getting laid. It happened every single day this week and it truly happens anytime I want. Which, okay, boosts my ego a little bit. Maybe a lot. I might even have hurt some girls in the process. I was never slapped though, unlike Jean. So that's a win in my book.

I see a few of my friends again, mainly Historia and Reiner, and they are talking to a girl I've never seen before.

She has long black hair and short messy bangs, the kind that goes a little above the eyebrows. I didn't know black hair was my thing until now. Her face has the perfect features, at least for me. She's wearing a sleeveless white top that is so tight that hugs her figure perfectly and makes her breasts look amazing. That type of top that shows the girl's side boob, and I'm a total sucker for those. It is also short so you can see a bit of her waist. And I don't even have to see her ass because I already know it is probably too damn good. Her light blue ripped jeans are cool as well and she has black sneakers. I like her style. She has a bunch of tattoos - a lot on her right arm, one on her left hand, and probably some that I couldn't see because they were behind her clothes. I intended to, though.

Fuck, she's hot.

Historia looks mesmerized talking to her, which is a very privileged view from where I stand because, as I've already said before, she is also beautiful. But she isn't exactly hot. This girl is. Way too much. Oh, and Reiner is there too. Whatever.

I can see a lot of guys want to approach her but none of them do. I went for it. Wasn't this night supposed to be wild?

— Hey, Eren! Guess what, Y/N is the new DJ at Shina! I was telling her how we go there all the time.

— Hi, Eren, nice to meet you — she says, with that kind of smile that people who know they are hot make. I do that too.

— Hey, Y/N — I say. And as I told you seconds before, I'm good with that type of smile as well so that's what she gets — Levi told me he came with the staff and a new girl, so I suppose that's you.

— Yeah, I'll start there next week.

— I talked to him about the party's playlist because I knew it couldn't be Reiner's.

— Yeah, it's Y/N's. She prepared it for the party when I invited the guys from Shina yesterday. We were in the same high school. — Reiner says that looking at me with a face that shows "See that, dickhead? I've known her for some years now".

— It's pretty good! I can't wait for the next party at Shina's to see your set! — Historia was always an angel.

REINER, WHERE'S THE REST OF THE ICE, MAN??, someone screamed far away.

— Shit. Catch up with you later, Y/N.

Too bad, huh, Reiner? He gives me a look that I can't quite figure out what it is, but I know for sure it wasn't a look of support. In the fucking slightest.

— I think Ymir is calling me as well, sorry!! — It was painfully obvious that Ymir wanted to make out with Historia for some time now. They never did. I think only Historia hasn't realized yet that Ymir is thirsty for her for god knows how long.

After Historia left, there was only me and her — So, by any chance, do you go to the same university as us? You look our age but Levi said you are new here — I tried asking this without looking at her body, but looking at her face was even worse. Her eyes were piercing me in the best way possible.

— I'm not exactly new, I'm from the same uni as you guys, but I took a gap year — she takes a sip of her drink — You probably never met me but I'm in the same year as you all are now.

Since Reiner knew her from high school, he also knew she was at the same university all along and never told any of the guys. Smart fucker.

— So that makes you a year older than me — I smirk at her.

— I guess it does — she smirks back as she lights up a cigarette and blows the smoke at me.

Ok, looking good so far.

I'm pretty high at this point, the MD and the music are making me horny, so I don't even bother to pretend that I'm not looking at her body. I'm looking at everything.

— You took something, didn't you?

— Do you want some? I can show you later where to get the best stuff. Anything you are in the mood for.

— I'm all set — she shows me her tongue and I see the acid. The view makes my own tongue feel lonely, maybe I should use it to steal that from her mouth. I hope she's horny as well.

We talk a lot about music since it's something that we both enjoy. She's passionate about it, I can tell. She asks about my band with true interest. Doesn't sound like small talk. She touches her hair and it makes me want to stuff my face in it. She has the smile that makes you want more. Her voice has the same effect.

The loud music allows us to talk near each other's ears. I hope she moans as loud as her playlist. The girls usually love my hair for some reason, either if it's in a messy bun as it is right now or if it's loose. They all love my green eyes too. She can see all that with somewhat detail since we are so close, even though it is a little dark here. If I take you to a room you can see me better, I almost blurb it out. I can see her too and that kills me.

She looks receptive to me but normally at this point I would be already hooking up with the girl. This time it isn't happening. I never have to work so much. I think I understand why the other guys didn't approach her before. She's a little intimidating to talk to, and that comes naturally to her – it doesn't seem to be on purpose. I flirt with her the way I normally do but she is hard to get, she hits every ball I throw. I remember what Levi said before. Oh, right.

But I'm vibing way too much at this point, I think if I touch any part of her I'll get hard immediately.

— This gap year you've mentioned... Did you go anywhere specific?

— I know it will sound cliché, but I went to Europe.

— Where in Europe?

— Everywhere — she says — I went down — the corner of her lips forming a smile  — And up. Everywhere. — and I can swear she sounds flirtatious as hell. I want to bite her lip.

— That sounds... Awesome. — I think she wants to bite me too, or at least I hope she does — Was there any particular reason to leave? If that's not too much to ask.

— Hm, I was kinda... — she stops to think for a few seconds as she holds her hair up and makes a ponytail, looking at the ground, the cigarette glued to her now closed lips. Her neck became exposed, it looks soft as hell and I can't wait to bruise it. She releases the smoke, that flows into the room, and looks deep into my eyes, as deep as I want to be inside her right now — ...stressed.

I reach my limit at this point.

— I can help you with the stress if you want.

— Really? — she's looking at me with the same teasing look and I'm doing the same, so we both know that's not a question I have to answer. Her tongue quickly passes through her top lip, her mouth forming a little wet smile — I don't think I need any help though.

I threw the ball and she hit a home run. My team was out.

I was not expecting that.

We hear some of the guys from Shina calling for her — Oh, they are calling me — Y/N looks at me again and says — See you around, Eren — giving me the same fucking grin I wanted to bite before.

She walks away and I see that her ass is, as I suspected from the very beginning, too damn good.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

After this, some time has passed. I look at the clock. Yeah, maybe a lot. I couldn't tell before because I'm drunk and drugged. I see most of my friends, all fucking wasted. Armin is holding up pretty well, Bertholdt's is knocked down for God knows how long, Mikasa probably smoked way too much weed (who am I to judge?) and looks dead on the couch. I don't see Ymir, Historia nor Reiner - there are too many people in this house to keep count. Sasha's eating something in the kitchen, I can't see what it is, but certainly, she got hungrier than normal after smoking some pot Connie gave her. Connie always holds his drinks well, he's still talking to a lot of people. I pass in front of one of the bathrooms and Hange is there, getting everything out of her system. Oh, and Ymir. There she is, holding Hange's hair, looking as pissed as ever. Levi probably went home hours ago. Jean is making out with some chick, he's going to score tonight. To be fair, he always does, but never with Mikasa.

I saw a lot of pretty girls today and I went for none of them. They tried and I shut them down, even the ones I normally fuck. There's someone I want to taste tonight and she's nowhere to be found. The guys from Shina are missing too, so I know I won't see her today anymore. Damn.

I'm not pissed at her but I'm pissed at the situation.

— Armin, I think I'm going to take off, are you coming?

— Yeah, I'm already pretty tired — he gets up — Jean's probably going to stay here.

— Yep. Probably. — Am I pissed that Jean's getting laid? Even though I could have as well? With someone else, at least? My mood feels off.

— I'm going with you too, I've lost count of how many assholes I had to shut down today. I think I even punched a few — I don't have to look to know that's Annie speaking — You were right, Eren, is it especially crowded today. In the shittiest way possible.

— Then let's go.

— Wait, I need to get my bag first, I left it in Reiner's room.

— I can get that for you, wait up.

— It's a black one. Small.

I sign a thumbs up for her and climb the stairs. I am hundred percent sure I'm going to see someone fucking there but that's the usual. I'm pretty sure I've already seen some people screwing in the corner of the living room minutes before. No one cares.

I open the door and see Y/N in her underwear, putting her white top back on. She does indeed have other tattoos.

— Hey there! — she says smiling, as she also puts her jeans back up, making little jumps so they pass through her ass. Her hair is not in a ponytail anymore.

I say hi in a confusing way.

— I came here to get my friend's bag — I look around for milliseconds like I don't know where the hell I am until I see Reiner lying - clearly naked - under his sheets. Can't be anyone else, with that bleached hair and huge biceps.

What? Ahn?

Hey... Wait a second.

Historia? Clearly naked as well? What. The. Hell. I guess she's not exactly the angel I thought she was?

They are sort of awake, sort of sleeping, kinda like on a different planet. You know, the type of thing that happens after a really strong fuck? That sort. They look exhausted. They look destroyed. And not in a bad way. AT ALL.

— Oh, I saw a bag before. Here you go — she gives me Annie's bag. She's all dressed now. She notices my confusion, I'm too high to act any other way — I've told you I don't need any help — her eyes piercing mine for the hundredth time tonight. Her smile hurts now. Ouch.

She grabs her sneakers and walks towards me and the door:

— I'm all set.

She leaves the room as I hold Annie's bag.

Yeah. I was not expecting that.

***

Thanks for reading (if there's even anyone here lmao). Chapter 2 will be uploaded later but it can be read now at AO3 or Wattpad.

[kookingtae]

falling into you (pt. 7)

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | pt 6

→scenario: Jungkook’s innocence is like a breath of fresh air in your wild life, and though you know you’re toxic for him, you just can’t seem to stay away.

→genre: college au, slow burn, mutual pining, shy/nerd jk + bad girl oc (mature themes)

→word count: 21k+

→tw: mentions of child abuse and neglect/abandonment, abuse of drugs/alcohol

→a/n: NOT COMPLETED YET

You felt like you were going to suffocate the moment you stepped into Jungkook’s room.

The memories came rushing back to you like a tsunami, waves and waves of so many different emotions crashing over you and threatening to crush your windpipes only after strangling you whole. You didn’t know what was so difficult; you’d been in Jungkook’s room multiple times before, hadn’t you? You were fine then (if the storm of emotions in your chest and butterflies in your stomach could be considered fine). What made it so different now?

But the moment Jungkook turned to you, the soft exhale falling from his faintly parted lips causing you to become hyper aware of the rhythm of his breathing surrounded by perfectly pink lips, you understood.

It was hard for you to grasp the concept of actually being nervous, giddy after your first real kiss with someone. A kiss had always been just that to you: a kiss. They were all the same. 

“I uh–“ Jungkook cleared his throat, and if you didn’t know better you’d say he was feeling the same way you were. “We can sit at the desk to study. I’ll take my roommate’s chair; he’s never here anyways.”

You raised a skeptical brow at him, the faintest hint of amusement on your lips as if to say, really. “He’s never here?”

A fiery blush instantly inflamed his cheeks. “Y-you just have bad timing is all.”

The fact that he considered his roommate interrupting your kiss bad timing made your heart speed up way more than you’d like to admit.

“Well let’s hope timing is on my side today,” you managed to say with the practiced ease of coy confidence despite being the most nervous you’ve ever been around a guy, sauntering past him and taking a seat in his desk chair. 

Jungkook stayed frozen for a moment before eventually pulling up Trip’s chair a safe yet manageable distance from you, and you were surprised by the normalcy of the situation as you started actually studying.

Things were a little slow at first, what with Jungkook’s timid nature of stumbling over his words and you not knowing a single thing about the class you’ve supposedly been in for an entire semester. But after a while, things began to go smoothly. You found a chapter that aligned with the notes you printed off, and Jungkook was in his element.

It surprised you how smart he was. You always knew he would be, what with the classes he’s taking and how much he prioritizes studying. But getting to see him in action, that was the real catalyst of the evening. You found yourself getting lost in the motion of his fingers over the pages, the movement of his lips as he spewed knowledge of advanced cell division. And when it came time for you to answer a question, Jungkook blinked at you expectantly while your eyes stayed glazed over in the daze of your reverie.

“Uh...” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks heating up under the scrutiny of your stare. “Y/N?”

That certainly got your attention; a sound you weren’t accustomed to hearing fell from his lips in the form of your name, and within seconds you were snapping out of it and looking at him in surprise while desperately trying to ignore the somersaults in your stomach. “Yes?”

“We were talking about which phase this nuclear subdivision occurs?”

You blinked at him. “Phase... one?”

“S-phase.”

“What?”

“We’re analyzing the nuclear subdivision of S-phase,” he sighed, putting his pen down and turning to face you. “You’re not listening to any of this, are you?”

“I am, I really am,” you frowned, the idea of him thinking you weren’t appreciative of his efforts breaking your heart. “I mean... I’m honestly trying to. The truth is,” your shoulders deflated with a sigh, “it’s kind of hard to focus with you, Jungkook.”

His brows shot up at that. “W-with me? What am I doing wrong?”

“Nothing!” You hurried to reassure him. “You’re perfect. I-I mean—this, this is perfect.” You gestured around the desk, your cheeks aflame. “It’s just... I...” another sigh left your lips; the innocent concern in his doe eyes was heart wrenching. “I’m sorry. I just need to take this more seriously. We can continue.”

And so you did. Jungkook wasn’t the type to question your words, so thankfully you didn’t have to explain your flustered stutters. And no matter how strong the magnetic pull that he had over you was, the song of the sirens drawing you closer and closer until the thought of kissing him was burning in your brain like an iron brand, you somehow managed to have control over yourself and hold back. You wanted to be respectful, to gain Jungkook’s trust so that he didn’t think you were just using him to get laid rather than actually wanting his help, because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

And so you studied and studied and studied until the little clock at Jungkook’s bedside read 11:00 at night and the boy next to you let out a yawn.

You, on the other hand, felt delirious—exhausted from the mental overload yet wired from the boy’s presence, like a coffee addict after pulling an all nighter. You pressed your forehead to the textbook; the pages were cool against your heated skin.

“I s-should probably get to sleep,” Jungkook mumbled—the boy who could confidently spew scientific data all day long but had trouble saying goodbye. “Early class is tomorrow.”

“Right.” You tried to mask the disappointment in your voice; the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel bad for wanting to sleep. You wanted him to sleep. He worked too damn much. “I should probably get going too. Another word about cells and my brain will physically implode.”

Jungkook chuckled—a soft, rare sound that had your heart leaping in your throat. You wanted nothing more than to stay with him—no amount of time ever seemed long enough—but you really didn’t know how much more studying you could take. You were lost in thought staring at the way his perfectly pink lips moved a majority of the time anyway. The sight made your body heat up—specifically your cheeks and groin.

You didn’t like the feeling of blushing. It was something you weren’t accustomed to, something that didn’t usually happen. You never really got embarrassed about anything, and the idea of blushing around a boy was completely nonexistent in your life. But with Jungkook, everything’s changed... your entire world had been flipped upside down. Nothing was as you knew it before.

You didn’t like the feeling of not being in control of your own emotions like this. It was completely different than letting loose with drugs or alcohol; you were choosing to alter your state of mind with those substances. But to be completely at the mercy of someone else... it was foreign. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve ended things immediately.

But this was Jungkook. And no matter how scary these changes were, he made you want to change. For him.

***

After saying your goodbyes to Jungkook that night, the two of you agreed to meet whenever you both were free. He needed to find time for the ample amount of studying of his own that he did, of course, and you had no problem canceling plans for a frat party or smoke session with friends to go see him. 

Your friends didn’t seem to share the same sentiment, however.

“We never see you anymore,” Taehyung frowned one day when you turned down a visit to the local bar off campus in favor of meeting Jungkook after class—to see if he wanted to study, of course.

“Tae, I live with you.”

“I mean we, as a group,” he whined, completely unfazed. “You spend all your time at Jungkook’s beck and call now.”

You merely scoffed. “Okay, that’s not true, first of all. I spend literally every waking moment with you guys because I don’t own a car. And second of all, that’s only because his ‘beck and call’ is fucking rare! It’s not like it happens all the time!”

“Hey.” A deep voice suddenly cut in to quell the conversation, and when you turned your head Yoongi was taking a joint from between his lips. You watched as he inhaled again before slowly letting the smoke escape and dissipate into the chilled night air.

There was a moment’s silence before: “I think what Tae’s trying to say is that it just feels like you’ve changed,” Suzy chimed in without prompt. “Not your personality or anything, obviously, but just like... you don’t really participate anymore.”

As if on cue Namjoon passed you a blunt, and you started to bring it to your lips out of habit before suddenly realizing what you were doing and quickly passing it to Jimin. Your expression turned sheepish as you directed your attention to Suzy.

“That’s not fair,” you grumbled. They knew how you felt about him. They knew how much you had been pining after him since the moment you met, and they knew how closed off Jungkook was. Couldn’t they just be happy for you that you were finally making progress? “You make it seem like I don’t have fun anymore. The only thing I’ve given up is smoking—only when I’m seeing him after—and sleeping around!”

Your friends paused at your words, and you didn’t think you were imagining the literal cricket sounds in the background of the silent forest. 

“You’ve given up sex?” Lynn was the first to speak.

“You guys make it sound as if it was a conscious decision,” you chuckled awkwardly in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I just wanna focus on him for a while, okay?”

“Yeah but...” Hoseok trailed off before glancing at your friends.

“Honey, I think what we‘re trying to say is we don’t know... how long he’s going to take to put out.” Kate interjected in a gentle tone. “You could be waiting a while, and there’s nothing wrong with fulfilling the need while you wait. You two aren’t dating yet, right?”

“But that’s just it: I don’t have the desire right now,” you shrugged. A part of you really wished you hadn’t given up a hit of that blunt. You could use it right about now. “Not with anyone but him, at least. Our connection, guys...” you trailed off with a shake of your head in disbelief and bit your bottom lip. How did you even begin to describe the visceral, intangible connection you had whenever the two of you were around each other? The literal fucking spark of electricity when you merely touched? “And besides, I’m fine waiting; I’m not a fucking addict.”

“We’re just trying to look out for you,” Suzy smiled softly. “We don’t wanna see you choose to do something you’ll regret later.”

“It’s just new to us,” Jimin chimed in. “We’re used to seeing this carefree, wild and crazy side of you. I never even knew you had the capacity to retain this many emotions.”

“Okay, fuck you,” you snorted, and the rest of them joined in on the laughter. It wasn’t until you checked your phone moments later that you jumped up from your seat on the picnic bench. “Shit, Jungkook should be getting out of class now. I’m gonna go see if he wants study.”

Tae teasingly made a whipping motion with his hand along with the sound, and you rolled your eyes in amusement before heading down the familiar path through the woods that led out on the other side of the science building. 

While heading in the direction of the arts building that Jungkook would be leaving at any second now, you couldn’t help but think about how this moment paralleled the first time you ever met him. You had just smoked in stoner’s trail before waltzing through the campus like some fucking contemporary dancer, music in your head and high out of your mind before the senses were knocked right out of you—figuratively and literally—when you accidentally bumped into the freshman boy. You had been walking the same exact route you were walking now, and yet the mindsets you were in couldn’t be more different. Not just because you had been under the influence, but just in general—the way you viewed things, your current choice of lifestyle. You still held the same morals, don’t get you wrong; no one could ever change the core beliefs of who you were. But before, there wasn’t anything more to life than living in the present, than partying and being free.

It was funny how while trying to be the epitome of free, you had unknowingly put yourself in a cage, unable to break away from the social construct of the cycle you’d put yourself in since your own freshman year. 

Well, to hell with constructs. To hell with rules of sleeping with people and never letting your armor crack. It felt so nice to finally want to share that part of yourself with someone—the part you’d kept hidden for so long, the part you’d wanted to keep buried from even yourself.

You always thought Jungkook’s way of living was so different from yours—that he was timid and distant while you were outgoing and confident—but it turned out Jungkook just didn’t bullshit his way through life. He didn’t put on a mask and pretend to be someone he’s not; he wasn’t afraid of being alone. And while the outward projections of your personality weren’t fake—you were still unapologetically yourself, through and through—it still kept hidden the deeper, darker aspects you didn’t want anyone to see. There still hasn’t been a single person in your life that you’ve opened up to about your past. And maybe, that meant you were more alone than you thought.

But there was something about this boy that was different—not how he acted, but how he made you feel. You wanted to open up to Jungkook, as scary as that was. And you weren’t going to let the cage of fear keep you trapped from doing so.

Easier said than done, you thought as you approached the arts building and broke out into a prickling sweat when you saw the magnificent boy standing there, under the streetlamp, waiting for you.

Your footing stuttered, stunned. He was waiting for you. You realized with a fluttering heart just how much times had actually changed.

When he saw you approach, his eyes resembled his usual deer-in-headlights expression upon making eye contact before he turned to face you fully. You could’ve sworn the corners of his mouth turned up to just barely form the beginnings of a smile, but your eyes must’ve been playing tricks on you. He’s never been happy to see you, ever.

“Hi,” you spoke on exhale in a breathless tone once you slowed to a stop in front of him, hair windswept behind you after the brisk walk you’d taken to get here in time and cheeks tinged pink from the cold as you beamed up at him; the expression came natural, as if your teeth couldn’t help but bare themselves in his presence.

“Hi,” he replied, his features mirroring your own. You melted at the sight of his shy smile. “I uh– I got your text.”

“You want to study?” You raised your brows at the suggestion, then before your big mouth could shut up its rambling: “Well, me studying—you tutoring, I guess...” you trailed off with a chuckle, mentally berating yourself.

Jungkook nibbled on his bottom lip, an action that always drew your close attention in longing before he finally nodded. “Yeah.”

The trek to his dorm was thankfully not a long one as the temperatures seemed to be dropping by the millisecond this time of night. You welcomed the familiar silence by Jungkook’s side and tugged your jacket closed tighter across your chest, and you weren’t sure if it was just your imagination or wishful thinking but it seemed that the two of you would drift closer to one another as you walked.

There was thankfully no roommate again in Jungkook’s dorm when the two of you entered; it could be a hit or miss these days, what with the way he kept barging in on you two at the worst of times.

You sat your backpack down on his desk—Tae gave you one of his old ones once you admitted that you never actually owned one—and the two of you set to work on shoving so much nuclear subdivision down your throat that you almost wished for death.

“Death would be a kindness, actually,” you sat up with a groan and rubbed your temples, “compared to dealing with this shit.”

“Well, technically, you deal with it everyday,” Jungkook threw in matter-of-factly, and when you shot him a look behind lids low with a mixture of exhaustion and boredom, he trailed off with a nervous chuckle. “‘Cause, you know... with... cells.”

“Can we please take a break?” You sighed before crossing your legs beneath you and turning to face him. “My brain needs time to process everything.”

“I thought you said you wanted to study tonight?”

“I did—I do, just...” you frowned, not wanting to seem unappreciative of his efforts. Haven’t you been studying for the past two hours? Just how hard did this boy go when it came to cramming? “Can’t we play a quick game or something? Just to take our minds off of it for a bit.”

Jungkook had his eyes widened, and it was impossible not to shift under his scrutiny when you would normally be calm and collected. “A g-game?”

“Yeah, it could be anything!” You put a hand to your forehead with your elbow resting on the desk, eyes desperately scanning his room as you tried to think of something. “It could be as simple as a staring contest for all I care. A staring contest!” You raised your brows at the sudden idea, grasping at straws. “If I win we get to take a real break, and if you win we can go back to studying.”

Jungkook blinked at you, his lips slightly agape as he seemed to process your words. After a couple moments of fidgeting, he finally replied, “uh... okay.”

You grinned at his agreement to your antics and started getting situated in your seat. He followed suit shortly after, wiping his palms on the sides of his pants and adjusting his posture.

“Ready?” You asked, amusement dancing on your lips.

He took a deep breath before nodding, and it was when you said go! that his eyes fixed you with the most intense stare you’ve ever witnessed in your life.

Instantly your entire body stiffened; the reaction was visceral, and the icy hot heat in your veins felt like hell frozen over as you resisted the sudden urge to choke on your hitched breath and call time out.

Never had you been subjected to his prolonged gaze before—the exact opposite, actually. You vividly remember when you used to fight to get him to make eye contact with you, so to say the contrast was making your head whirl would be putting it lightly. It also gave you the first chance to study the swirling pools of brown that were his eyes, so you were going to do just that.

You never noticed just how complex his eyes really were; they held a terrifying amount of depth to them. Don’t get you wrong, they were one of your favorite things about him—just the thought of the big orbs was enough to turn your insides to mush—but never had you been bestowed the privilege of staring into them so unabashedly, so unapologetically and freely as you were now. And by god, were they beautiful.

You watched as a shade of pink sprouted on the apples of his cheeks, first in soft rosy hues and then in bright crimson as it made a trail all the way to the tips of his ears. You bit your lip to keep from smiling at the endearing sight, if only to save your lids from the instinctive blink that was currently eating away at you, and it was when his gaze followed the action that his cheeks really became aflame.

Eventually he cleared his throat and readjusted himself, his competitive nature seemingly starting to shine through, and that was when the intensity of his gaze burned through the distance between you like fire. It scorched your skin until the small dorm room started to feel like an oven and your breath was stifled in the heat that boiled between you. Your breathing turned shallow; it felt like you were drowning in his gaze the longer he held you captive with his eyes without any means of returning to the surface for that redeeming gasp of air. Your body began to prickle with a darker, deeper sensation—first in the palms of your hands, then to the depths of your core.

You gulped. Your mouth was suddenly drier than the Sahara desert, though water was the last thing on your mind as you watched his tongue slip out to quickly wet his lips before returning to the caverns of his mouth again, and that was when you held back an audible groan.

It‘s as if the universe was taunting you.

A replay of your stolen kiss in this bedroom many nights ago appeared in your head, and you physically pressed your thighs together to keep from doing something rash. You still wanted to respect his boundaries, still wanted him to take you and your reason for being here seriously. Yet the memory continued to fester in your mind like an open wound, coming further and further to the forefront of your brain, and you shifted in your seat while forcing the feeling down to try to steady your erratically beating heart.

You had never experienced anything like this before. Sure, you were more than used to gazing into someone’s intense eyes in much more intimate settings than this—when they were over you, under you, inside you. But for some reason, those instances had no where near the same effect that Jungkook’s gaze had on you in a mere staring contest. What were you, in grade school?

It was embarrassing is what it was; you didn’t get flustered. It just didn’t happen to you. You were always able to keep your cool, to hold yourself together while the other person was usually the one melting in the palm of your hand. That was what you were accustomed to, and so this foreign concept of blushing and thinking about nothing but how badly you wanted to feel someone’s lips was completely new to you.

And so after a beat of tension, you decided to throw all caution to the wind and succumb to it.

•••

Jungkook felt like he was being burned alive.

Having to remain still, unmoving and scrutinized under Y/N’s gaze sounded like a nightmare when she’d first suggested it. He actively tried to avoid eye contact with her, lest he burst into flames right there on the spot, and now she wanted him to be forced to stare at her? Without any means of escaping?

He couldn’t think of anything more terrifying.

He felt vulnerable. There was something so intimate about eye contact—how no one could mutter a sound, and yet right now the entire room seemed to constrict against the flood of unspoken words that drowned the air around them. The eyes were the windows to the soul, they’d say, and Jungkook felt he may as well be carving his out and handing it to her on a silver platter what with the way her gaze formed unstoppable electricity between them. It made him nervous, to have her so close to him in this intangible way, and the thought had him squirming in his chair with an instinctive need to put up his walls.

Though he was sure that not even closing his eyes would grant him solace now, because she had now worked her way into every fiber of his being through the glistening mirrors of her eyes and planted a seed of strange emotion inside of him that felt so deep, so primal that it had grown monstrous in just the short amount of time they’d been playing this self-sabotaging game.

Instantly he could feel his cheeks aflame; they felt white hot against the rest of his burning skin, though the sensation didn’t show any signs of stopping when she suddenly started to lean forward.

Her movements were slow, subtle, as if his body was a magnet physically pulling her to him, yet she had to be aware of what she was doing. He wouldn’t even have noticed had he not been paying such close attention to her as he always was. And even though he wanted nothing more than to lean forward as well and close the remaining distance between them, a thought he’d had on his mind since that fateful night in his dorm room, he suddenly panicked, and—

“I-I blinked,” he suddenly stumbled out through shaking lips before turning away, his eyes closing to ease the sting after holding them open for so long. “Looks like you won.”

He couldn’t do it. Jungkook was competitive by nature, so normally he wouldn’t have thrown the challenge so willingly, but he didn’t know what else to do. Not when she was staring at him so sinfully and moving so close he could practically feel the breath from her lips on his, and suddenly every nervous bone in his body was taking over and his fight or flight kicked in. And he fled every time.

He would kick himself for this—for pushing away the opportunity to kiss her again. He knew he would, as he could already feel the inklings of regret creeping in and rearing its ugly head within his gut like the head of a serpent. Fear would be his demise.

Though Y/N must’ve been able to see this on his face as well, because there was sudden slight shake of her head as if to say fuck it before she grabbed the tip of his chin between her thumb and index finger and gently brought his lips to hers.

•••

You could hear his breath catch in his throat the moment your lips finally touched his, could feel his sweet exhale as it danced on your skin. You were aware that all of these reactions were happening, and yet they sent your insides into a tumultuous frenzy anyways.

Nirvana. That’s what kissing Jungkook felt like—as if you had finally reached your destination of enlightenment and could finally experience true happiness. It was such a sweet, sweet relief after pining over the sensation for so long, though you couldn’t be further from inner peace; every nerve in your body was instantly electrocuted with pure white heat, every hair on your arm standing tall from the elicited goosebumps. And there was a sharp pleasure that snapped at the base of your neck, shooting all the way down your spine and churning your stomach like a raging storm on a restless sea before making home in the pit of your core.

Your memory hadn’t done his lips justice. How was it possible that it felt even better than you imagined? You’d done nothing but play your kiss on repeat in the highest regard of your mind since the moment it ended, yet it was no where near the same as being here in this moment with him against you. This was it. Kissing him were the best moments of your life thus far.

And though the stiffness of Jungkook’s body only turned rigid with shock at the feeling of your sudden actions, he was no where near as distraught as when you’d kissed him the past two times (once, not even returning to brief peck and another, taking what seemed like an eternity to finally come to). No, it was this time that he finally seemed to be warming up to you as it took him only a few moments to reciprocate your kiss, and your heart was singing in your chest when he did.

You knew it had to be the result of your efforts. Thanks to your tutoring sessions, he had become more comfortable and at ease with your presence over time. You were slowly worming your way past the tall barriers of his guarded heart. At least, that’s what you liked to think. That’s what you hoped.

And so you didn’t waste any time kissing him like you’ve been wanting—needing to ever since your lips last left his. Every emotion, every desire that you never even knew you could feel were brought to life inside the caverns of your heart, igniting like the flickering flame of a candle and bursting into a forest fire that left a blazing trail in the wake of his touch. You always thought romance novels were bullshit until you realized that the literal fireworks that would burst behind them when they kissed were metaphors for the figurative fireworks that you now felt exploding within you in a pinwheel of colors that matched his eyes. You were consumed by him, and god, did you want to be consumed by him.

The heated escalation that the two of you were robbed of last time was not missed tonight; you carefully brought your hand to his neck again, so not to scare him off with something new, and it was then that Jungkook’s hand gently settled on top of yours. You paused, worried that he would remove your hand—was this too much? But when you felt his fingers suddenly curl into yours to anchor your hold to him, fire erupting from his initiated contact as he leaned into your touch, all hell broke loose.

You felt like an addict, the way you craved him over the air you breathed. Instead it was his scent you were taking into your lungs, his touch that was like an overdose of morphine straight to the blood stream. And when it seemed promising that his front door would stay shut this time, no signs of his interrupting roommate in sight, there was nothing stopping the two of you from breaking past the barriers previously set and finally letting go.

Your hand slid from his neck to his shoulder and it was like your body had a mind of its own, some deeper instinct that you had no control over taking the reins as you closed the small gap between you and moved to situate yourself on his chair, in his lap, a primal need taking over to be as close to him as possible and feel every–

Your second knee didn’t make it onto his chair before he was suddenly shooting upright to stand on his feet, the sudden loss of his lips feeling like a splash of cold water striking you awake from your deeply charged daze. You barely even noticed how you almost landed on your ass as you stumbled back unceremoniously from his departure, for all you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes.

“J-Jungkook, I’m—I’m so sorry, I–I didn’t–“

“N-no, i-it’s okay.” His voice was hoarse, strained before he cleared his throat. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, and he was more flustered than you had ever seen him. “I—I think you should probably leave.”

“Jungkook–“

“Now,” he gulped heavily, a pained and almost panicked expression on his face that he seemed to be fighting. “I’m sorry, I’m j-just... I’ve never–“

“Hey, it’s okay,” you swallowed, fighting to keep the pain from your face as you reached forward to place a comforting hand on his shoulder before second guessing yourself and letting it fall back to your side. You offered a soft, understanding smile instead. “I’m sorry, I—I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“No, it’s okay,” Jungkook winced—about what, you didn’t know. “I just uh– I-I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” you nodded your head, forcing an optimistic expression despite the growing lump in your throat. “Yeah I’ll uh– I’ll see you later.”

The swell of emotion swarming in your chest threatened to overflow and you knew you had to get out of there, fast. You couldn’t let Jungkook see the buried feelings beneath your  cracking armor of false-confidence—not even after all the progress of self-vulnerability you’d made.

It was the first time you couldn’t leave Jungkook’s dorm soon enough.

Your face crumbled as soon as the door shut behind you. How could you let that happen? You had such a good feeling about the two of you—that he was actually beginning to trust you and let you in—and then you had to go and ruin it. Jungkook would see you as nothing more than promiscuous, think you just wanted to get in his pants, which was exactly what you‘d been afraid of. You knew he’d heard the rumors about you in the past, but you figured if you just continued in your earnest pursuit that he would finally see that you valued him as more, so much more than that.

And all that led to was you getting thrown out after pushing things too far past his comfort zone.

You tried to steady your chest that heaved erratically beneath the weight of promised tears. If Jungkook didn’t hate you before, he definitely did now.

•••

“Ah!”

Jungkook’s grunt was loud with unabashed pleasure as he came in his hand, letting the abundant load wash down the drain and thanking god for the millionth time that he had a scarce roommate. He knew even the heavy water pressure pummeling the shower floor wasn’t enough to mask his sounds; he could normally contain himself under quiet control, but tonight his body had other plans for him. No, he forfeited all control over his body the second he popped a rock solid boner that Y/N was definitely going to feel had she continued her line of pursuit to his lap.

It had been painful, throbbing under the constraint of his jeans, and he knew no matter what that he had to get Y/N out of his dorm before the fear of blowing his load right then and there strangled him whole. It tore him apart to see the look of confusion, the look of hurt in her eyes as she tried to make sense of the whiplash that his sudden objection put them through, but what else could he do? This was further than he ever dreamed of going with her—mentally, emotionally, and physically. To say he was overwhelmed would be putting it lightly.

This time he came more than ever before. He knew it had to be a result of the very real physical intimacy that was happening rather than just a figment of his creative imagination; and the sad part was, nothing had even happened—at least by her standards, he was sure. They had been making out, the experience even more mind-altering than the first if that was even possible, and Jungkook had popped a boner over the mere feeling of her lips, same as before. The only difference this time was that Trip had not been there to interrupt their heated moment, and so Y/N progressed as one usually would in that situation. He couldn’t fault her for it—not when he so desperately wanted the same things. He wanted to feel her as close to him as possible, as scary as that was to admit now that it was so real, so tangible and obtainable. He couldn’t believe it was really happening, and he became so wrapped up in his emotions of the moment that when her first knee made home on the edge of his chair, just outside the thigh of his that was closest to her, he couldn’t stop. All he knew was Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. But when he felt her second knee moving with the intention to straddle his lap, to be as physically close to him as he’d ever let her—as he’d ever let anyone—that’s when he felt his erect member twitch in reminder of just how excited he was in that moment.

He panicked. The thought of her feeling something so intimate in him was mortifying. She’d been with countless men; how embarrassing was it that he was leaking over just a kiss? She’d certainly be able to suspect his inexperience then.

As surprising as it was for him to admit, he just didn’t want to disappoint her. When it came to intimate activities, he was sure she’d seen it all. It wasn’t that he didn’t want things to go further; the mere thought made his entire body break out into goosebumps. He just couldn’t help but feel insecure in comparison.

Which was why he shot up from his chair like the seat was on fire. He hated that he was doing this—absolutely hated it—but the longer she stood there the more he worried she would notice the raging hard-on in his pants. She had to get out of there, and fast, if only for the sake of his sanity.

The way he rushed to the shower the second his door closed made him feel horrible. God, he was no better than a disgusting hormonal teenager, was he? Here she was thinking she had done something wrong, and embarrassment kept Jungkook from reassuring her otherwise. He couldn’t let her walk away thinking this was her fault. He couldn’t.

Hi, he typed out under her name in his phone before he could stop himself—it was all he could do to dry his hands fast enough before his phone got water damage. I just wanted to apologize again for tonight. I didn’t mean for it to feel like I was kicking you out. He chewed on his bottom lip, self-doubt causing him to second guess every word that he was writing, but he refused to let anything be erased. We can meet up again sometime soon if you want? For tutoring

There were only a few minutes of mental berating that he had to endure before her reply chimed in like a breath of fresh air.

it’s no problem, don’t worry about it! i would love that :)

•••

After that, you continued to meet up for tutoring at a casual pace.

You worked hard to make sure your sessions seemed regular, relaxed, so not to add any extra pressure onto Jungkook’s shoulders. You had been on your way to the edge of the road waiting for Namjoon to pick you up when you received Jungkook’s text of forgiveness, and though the genuine gesture warmed your heart, you couldn’t help the way its beating spiked in your chest when you continued reading to see that he made an effort yet again to plan to get together with you.

At the time, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Here you were in the middle of self-loathing, and he was the one contacting you? The natural grin that sparked on your features couldn’t be stopped. Maybe you didn’t ruin things after all. Maybe Jungkook was warming up to you more than you thought.

That being said, you certainly weren’t going to push things at your next sessions. It was clear your previous actions had made him uncomfortable in some way, and that was the last thing you wanted. So you continued to keep things going in a moderate, somewhat professional yet casual manner; as hard as that was for you, it was worth it in the long run. He was worth it.

One of the benefits you loved reaping from your study sessions was that you could see his personality, his true personality that was kept hidden beneath the layers of caution and hesitation that he would wear as armor to keep you out, was finally starting to shine through the cracks. You would catch glimpses of it when you least expected, in a silly quip or witty one liner that he would comeback with after your teasing that would leave you stunned and smiling to yourself at the notion that you were finally seeing Jungkook, the real Jungkook that so few got to know, and you were falling in love with every piece of him.

“So if the mitosis is the powerhouse of the cell then what the fuck is the nucleus?”

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said.”

It was another day of studying in his isolated dorm room, and you could not be more over it. The material was beyond tedious and excruciatingly boring at this point, though you would endure a thousand biology lessons if it meant getting to spend time with him.

“My ass still hurts from the last time I sat in this seat,” you pointed out, your brain literally begging to focus on anything other than the words in your textbook. It needed a break. The pain in your backside would do as a viable distraction.

A tut fell from Jungkook’s lips. “Yeah, the desk chairs are pretty uncomfortable.” You watched as his expression fell in favor of nibbling his bottom lip, and you’d studied his shy mannerisms long enough to know that there was something itching at his mind. “You can, um,” he started with a mumbled voice, “you can sit on the bed this time, if you want. I’ll take the chair.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. “No, that’s not fair–“

“I don’t mind,” he smiled softly, and the sight was so rare, so beautiful that it rendered you speechless and you had no choice but to oblige.

His bed was soft and smelled of him; you were instantly transported back to when the two of you had brought a bowl of popcorn up here and turned on One Piece—both of which were quickly forgotten in favor of beautiful boy sitting next to you who demanded all of your attention whether he wanted it or not. It was like you were a moth drawn to his flame; you couldn’t help the magnetic pull every fiber of your being had to him.

You desperately pushed down the memories of the life changing make out session that had happened next, if only for your sanity. “Hey, what if we continued watching One Piece–“

“No.”

•••

“Apoptosis,” you recalled to him after a few hours into your session. “The death of cells.”

Jungkook slowly nodded his head. “Right. It occurs as a normal and controlled part of an organism’s growth or development.”

“Will I have to know all that extra stuff?” You looked up at him under furrowed brows.

He simply shrugged. “Probably. It’s not too hard to remember why it’s happening once you know what it is.”

“Easy for you to say; the textbooks right in front of you!”

You were relieved when he let out a chuckle—one that you would never get tired of hearing—and you couldn’t help but acknowledge how much more comfortable things now were between you. You still had a long ways to go, of course; he still closed up when you spoke too much, returned to his flustered and distant self whenever things got off the topic of biology, and it reminded you of how shy he acted when you first met. But things were definitely better. For instance, you were now able to hold a casual and somewhat teasing conversation with him without scaring him away.

“I guess you’ll just have to study more,” Jungkook replied with a grin, and you rolled your eyes in amusement to ignore the butterflies that were fluttering in your stomach at his seemingly harmless offer to prolong your tutoring.

It all felt so pure, so fresh with him—like you were a giddy school girl all over again with a hopeless crush. And though you knew your feelings were much, much more than that, you couldn’t help but feel young and flustered in his presence.

Another yawn forced its way past your lips as you rested your head on the back of your hands, now fully laying down on top of his bed. Scientific data danced off his tongue as if he were serenading you with poetry, and the sound of his voice was as soothing as smooth velvet and honey as it encased you in a blanket of warmth and lulled you to your dreams.

•••

Jungkook let out a yawn after a particularly long paragraph he’d been reading from the textbook, his eyes flashing to the clock on his phone. 1:04 am, it read.

His eyes widened slightly. Last he checked it was 10:30. How had the time gotten away from him like that? Surely it couldn’t simply be because he lost track while enjoying her company...

He didn’t know why he even bothered to lie to himself anymore.

With another yawn her turned towards her. “I didn’t realize how late–“

He froze mid-sentence, turning rigid in his seat. There, in the middle of his bed with her head on his pillow, hair softly splayed out behind her as she curled on her side, was Y/N.

And she was fast asleep.

He blinked after a moment, if only to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him, but it seemed the efforts were futile. There was no mistaking her still, undisturbed lids that brought her soft lashes to kiss the top of her cheekbones. There was no misinterpreting the slow rise and fall of her chest. And if he listened closely, which he always did, there was no misunderstanding the gentle breaths of air that cascaded from her lips like a soft sea breeze. She was asleep, no doubt about it.

And it was once he realized this, the initial surprise chipping away at his guarded heart, that he softened at the sight. She looked so beautiful, so peaceful like this. He had never seen a more breathtaking scene than the one before him now, and in this moment there was no way he could believe a single one of those incriminating rumors being spread about her. She looked like a breath of innocence laying there, a vast contrast to the reputation that proceeded her, and if Jungkook didn’t know better he would’ve guessed in this moment that she never knew an ounce of pain, had never been corrupted by the harsh realities of life. His classmates’, Trip’s words were nothing but a distant memory as he gazed down at her like she was the sun, moon and stars all wrapped into one, and even though she was in his sanctuary, the one place that he went to for escape from the rest of the world, he wanted nothing more than for her to stay.

A strong, deep and overwhelming emotion threatened to climb its way from his throat in the sudden desperate need to be spoken into existence, but he swallowed the feeling down.

She would take his bed tonight. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

•••

You awoke feeling more well-rested than you‘d felt in a long time.

Instantly warmth enveloped you. And not from in the inside out, but rather the outside in: blankets, fluffy and cozy and billowing around you in a haphazard disarray as evidence that you had a good sleep all night long. The mattress beneath you was comfortable, spacious–

A little too spacious.

Your eyes shot open at the realization, a confused and groggy frown marring your features. This was not the familiar couch at Taehyung’s apartment that you were used to crashing on; this wasn’t a couch at all, in fact.

Oh fuck.

Did you break your number one rule? There’s no way; even in an inebriated state, you always remembered to catch a ride home. It had become second nature, was all you’d known these past three years. There’s no way you could’ve broken it now after all this time. You didn’t even remember drinking last night. Just how fucked up did you get?

You shot upright at the thought, instantly moving to scramble from the bed and swiftly escape the room before the drunken fuck could see. You had to get out of here. How could you have been so careless? Why did you–

It was your body and your mind alike that came screeching to a halt when your eyes fell to the bedroom floor.

He was there on the floor with a pillow and blanket arranged in a makeshift bed, the boy who made your breath hitch at the mere sight of him and sent your heart into overdrive.

Jungkook was asleep. Jungkook let you stay the night. Jungkook gave you his bed.

Suddenly the memories of last night were shifting into view to rearrange all the mangled panic that habit led you to believe upon waking up in an unfamiliar environment. Of course you didn’t party last night and go home with a drunken fuck; you were at Jungkook’s place studying until the early hours of the morning. You must’ve fallen asleep during your session.

Embarrassment tinged your cheeks at the realization, though the thought soon dissipated as the sight of him consumed every single synapses in your brain like it always did.

Your previously rigid and guarded posture soon softened while you gently laid back down on the bed with a sigh, simply gazing at him and unable to peel your eyes away. He was so beautiful that it hurt. You’ve always thought so of course, and even so, seeing him in his most vulnerable state was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. To see him without worry or fear etched into his brow, without his defenses up was truly a work of art and you were the luckiest person in the world to bear witness to it.

The smile that graced your lips was not lost on you, though you simply reveled in the happiness that swarmed your soul as you burrowed back into his sheets and took in the heavenly scent of his that surrounded you. This was his bed, the most private and vulnerable place that you could ever possibly be, and he was allowing you to be here. And that meant that nothing, nothing could pull your head from the clouds of pure heaven that you danced among in this moment.

The sudden swell of deep emotion and realization in your chest was so visceral, so much stronger than anything you’d ever felt before. You never wanted to leave him like this. You wanted to wake up to see him there for a long, long time.

However, the same couldn’t be said for the manner in which you were seeing him; a wave of concern and guilt soon wracked your frame at the fact that he had forgone the comfort of his own bed for you in favor of taking the hard ground. And before you knew what you were doing, you found yourself slipping from between the sheets and onto the floor beside him.

You didn’t know how much time had passed while you admired him. His cheeks were round with sleep, lips plump and pouted looking the most irresistible and adorable you ever knew a human could. There was a lock of soft brown hair that hung across his forehead, and you nearly resisted the urge to brush it from his eyes if only to count the number of lashes dusting his cheekbones.

Nearly being the keyword there—the attempt was futile, of course, as there wasn’t a bone in your body that could resist him.

The spark between both of your nerve-endings danced as your fingers gently caressed his skin, hooking behind the lock of hair and gently sweeping it out of his face in a reverent display of affection. Your touch couldn’t have been any more than a feather, you knew it couldn’t have, and yet his closed lids fluttered anyway.

You quickly withdrew your hand so not to scare the slowly stirring boy before you, though in the end that didn’t stop his surprise upon seeing you.

The speed in which his eyes bulged open was almost comical.

“Y/N?” His lids were still fluttering in groggy confusion when he murmured your name in a voice thick with sleep, and holy hell, you could have died and gone to heaven right then and there for all you knew.

Is this what you’d been missing out on? Did all men’s voices sound this sexy in the morning, or was it just his? You had a very strong feeling it was the latter.

“Sorry for falling asleep during tutoring,” you smiled softly, your voice gentle so to match the reverence of the soft morning glow filtering in around you through the opaque curtains. “I always did find biology boring.”

Though his eyes stayed unwavering on you, his mouth fell open and shut like a fish out of water, seemingly too stunned to speak.

“Thank you for letting me stay over, but you didn’t have to,” you spoke again when it was apparent he wasn’t going to respond, a rosy blush dusting your cheeks. “You could’ve taken the bed.”

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Jungkook‘s voice sounded a gentle rumble after a moment of silence, and if you didn’t know any better the expression in his eyes would lead you to believe he loved seeing your sleeping form in his bed, almost as much as you loved seeing his.

It was a dangerous game, choosing what to let yourself believe as fact or wishful thinking.

Eventually your eyes left his before another staring contest could ensue in favor of glancing past him to the empty side of the room. “Did your roommate already come and go?”

“He didn’t come home,” Jungkook answered, his gaze never leaving your face as he propped himself up on his elbow. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes when you looked back to him. “He doesn’t usually sleep here. Like I said, you just had bad luck before.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that as your heart warmed at his last words. Bad luck that you’d gotten interrupted before but good luck that you didn’t this time; could this mean that he liked spending uninterrupted time with you? That he no longer silently looked for excuses to leave your presence?

“You can go back to sleep in your bed if you want,” your expression turned sheepish as you lifted yourself to your feet. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable on the floor.”

Jungkook followed your action with his eyes before sitting up as well and crossing his legs beneath his blanket on the floor. He looked so impossibly cute in the morning: hair ruffled and messy, eyes half lidded and groggy. You tried to stop your gaze from lingering on the way his plain white shirt hung loosely from his broad chest and shoulders, and you had to physically look away to keep from staring at his collarbone peeking from beneath the hem of the fabric. The last thing you needed was to get turned on this morning.

The silence that hung in the air was a comfortable one, though it spoke volumes for Jungkook’s intentions. He apparently wasn’t planning on getting back in bed.

“Do you wanna maybe...” you swallowed down the nerves you were now getting accustomed to upon being around him, “go get some breakfast?”

•••

Jungkook didn’t know what was happening to him.

He didn’t know who he was becoming. Because this person? This person who let Y/N spend the night, who let her sleep in his bed and got breakfast with her the next day like some sort of morning-after routine? This wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.

And yet he found himself doing it anyway.

He’d given his body with a mind of its own free reign at this point, feeling merely like a passenger as he watched these things that he never thought possible unfold before his very eyes. Waking up to the sight of Y/N peering back at him with soft eyes and a gentle smile was something that only happened in his dreams. He’d spent every waking moment since he met the wild senior telling himself that she wasn’t capable of that. That she was bad news and had no interest in anything from him other than a quick fuck. He wanted no part in that—at least that’s what he told himself. Though if that was the case, then how did he make it this far?

However, this was entirely different. This was uncharted territory that he never thought he’d get to explore, and it left him unknowing of how to feel. Had Y/N ever had a relationship quite as genuine, as domestic as this in the midst of all her one night stands? Deep down, he selfishly hoped the answer was no. He allowed himself to hope that he was special, if just this once.

They found their way to a nearby cafe on campus, the blast of warm air upon entering after enduring the crisp morning chill of winter melting his insides to goo. Though upon glancing at the girl beside him, he realized that  his gooey insides had nothing to do with the sudden temperature change.

Jungkook followed her lead over to a table in the corner that was partially hidden from view of the rest of the cafe. He didn’t know if she’d done this on purpose for his preference of isolation or not, but he was appreciative nonetheless.

“Have you ever been here?” Y/N asked him, and the way her cheeks and nose were a soft red from the cold made Jungkook’s gaze dance with captivation.

“No,” he answered after a moment, the two of them taking their seats across from one another at the quaint, round table for two. “I uh, haven’t explored much of campus this semester other than my dorm and the academic buildings.”

He tossed in an awkward chuckle that he hoped countered how lame he knew he sounded. Why would somebody as exciting and adventurous as Y/N want anything to do with a recluse like himself?

Though if she felt one way or another about his statement, she certainly didn’t show it. “This place has the best coffee—if you like coffee, of course. But if you don’t they have other drinks as well. There’s tea if you’re more of a tea person... or hot chocolate. I’m sure they have milk or juice too, and just water.” Her eyes were fixated on the menu in front of her, and so he took the opportunity to admire her downcast features. She was rambling, and he could tell from his own personal experience with the emotion that she was nervous. And though he couldn’t imagine why she would feel such a way around him, it was endearing to see nonetheless.

He was following the graceful lines and curvatures of her face when her eyes suddenly found his again. He quickly snapped them down to look at his own menu. God, even with the winter chill in his bones he was still burning from her presence. Did they sell frozen beverages here?

After the server walked by to take their order (he thankfully was able to order something chilled to cool his insides), Jungkook was surprised at the ease in which their conversation flowed. They weren’t chatting nonstop by any means, but it seemed that studying together had made him a bit more comfortable—something that he wasn’t even aware of until this very moment.

Y/N had always been friendly, but instead of actively letting the topic fall flat like he normally would in favor of checking nearby exits for the perfect escape route, he found himself wanting to match her quips, wanting to hold her attention and keep her interest. And though she still did most of the talking, he wasn’t desperately wanting to return to the isolation of his room to shut himself off from the world like he usually did. He was okay here at their quaint table in the back of the cafe obscured behind some potted plants and with her staring back at him like there wasn’t a single person in the world she’d rather be with in this moment.

“So is computer science turning out to be all you’d hoped for?” There was a lilt of amusement to her tone as she emptied a packet of sugar into her coffee, and Jungkook knew this was because he had told her of his true feelings about the major.

He took a bite of his breakfast, the fork sitting between his lips for a moment in thought before he nodded pensively. “I like the subject. Computers have always interested me. I wouldn’t be majoring in it if I didn’t.”

Y/N nodded at his answer, though it seemed as if she was eluding to more. “And art?”

He looked over at her quizzically. “What about it?”

She shrugged with a small grin on her agonizingly perfect lips. “Are you taking it as an easy elective, or do you have an interest there?”

Jungkook gulped. He never opened up to people about his art. Not even his parents knew; it was just something he didn’t do. “I... I’ve always actually, um, b-been sort of into drawing.”

Well, until now, apparently.

He had no idea what possessed him to actually admit that to her, the first person he’s ever admitted it to besides himself, though the elation that lit up her face at his response was all worth it.

“Is that what your sketch pad is for?” She referenced the booklet that had always been crammed safely between the monstrous textbooks on his desk. He kept it hidden and out of view—or so he thought.

He cleared his throat after a bite of food to keep from choking. Did she really pay that much attention to the details of his room? “I uh—yeah. It–it’s just a way to pass the time.”

“But you take drawing 101 as an elective?”

He didn’t know what prompted him to open his mouth, albeit a bit sheepishly. “A-actually, I uh, I tested out of 101 after meeting with the professor. I take drawing 201.” Certainly his cheeks were the color of beets right now.

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, but before he could fret over the sheer surprise on her expression, she was speaking again. “Could I see them sometime?”

Now he actually did choke. A cough sputtered from his lips, the expression of concern that was adorning Y/N’s features making the embarrassment even harder to swallow along with his bite of food.

“Are you alright?” She leaned forward with wide eyes and brows knit into a frown.

“Y-yeah, yeah, I’m–“ Jungkook cleared his throat a couple more times to make sure he could breathe properly. “I’m okay. I don’t actually,” he paused, taking a moment to gather himself. “I’ve never actually... let anyone see my sketches before.”

“Oh,” she raised her brows before sitting back. “That’s okay then. I underst–“

“B-but, u-uh, maybe one day,” Jungkook gulped down the aftertaste of word vomit that had just spewed from his lips, his pulse increasing rapidly.

Y/N nodded with a smile then, a beautiful smile that he would never get tired of seeing, and while he was lost in the sight–

“You know...” she peered over beneath her lashes, and the beautiful smile morphed into a small smirk tugging at her lips. “This could technically be considered our second date.”

And it was suddenly that the wind had been knocked out of him. “D-date?”

“If you want,” Y/N shrugged as if the offer was no big deal. “I mean, you did kinda do this whole thing backwards. The least you could do is buy me a meal before getting me in your bed.”

His mouth ran dry at that, parched like a man left in the sweltering sun to match the heat that rose to his bright red face. And though it was obvious she was joking—the teasing grin of amusement on her lips were a dead giveaway—he couldn’t help but focus on the nature of her words in a very serious manner.

Y/N had never dropped a sexual innuendo to him before—not unless he had just been too naive to catch on at first. Regardless, the dirty scenario that her joking words implied was definitely not lost on him now, and it had his heart hammering in his chest.

She had to stop doing this to him. She had to have mercy on his poor soul, because he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. She had the ability to turn his world completely upside down in a matter of mere syllables, and the way those syllables were formed on the tip of her tongue and incredibly soft lips, the lips that he had felt with his own and knew how they tasted and–

His eyes widened. There was no way this was happening again.

The blood went down below in a rush, seeming to happen in slow motion and all at once, and before he knew it Jungkook had popped yet another boner over the thought of Y/N’s lips.

He couldn’t stop the blood draining from his face—probably because it all went to his dick. Was this really the type of person he was now? Someone who was too horny to even control their sexual urges? He didn’t know what had come over him these past couple of weeks, but he couldn’t seem to stop it. All she had to do was smirk at him and suddenly he was some kind of crazy sex addict!

He quickly shifted in his seat, clearing his throat and placing a napkin in his lap to hide his pants. The absolute mortification had to be written across his face; he knew it had to be, because Y/N in all of her painfully adorable obliviousness had misunderstood his sudden turn in behavior.

“I’m kidding! I’m paying of course.”

His head snapped up in shock at that; after the drastic turn of events, her previous words had momentarily slipped his mind until her sudden offer. Did she really want to pay for his meal?

“What? It’s a date,” she grinned.

And despite the circumstances, he couldn’t help but mirror her expression; it came surprisingly natural for him, in fact.

“If that’s the case, then I’ll pay,” he spoke without thinking. Fortunately his boner had started to settle thanks to the topic change, and this was something that he really wanted to do; his mother, as overprotective as she was, was very conservative and always taught him that chivalry should be kept alive.

“No, I’m the one who wanted to take you out.” And though she shook her head with a mischievous smile, her voice still held a tone of resolution to it that told him it wasn’t up for discussion. There was no arguing when the server came by and she handed over her card without even looking at the bill.

And despite having lost this temporary battle, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel the familiar rush of fuzzy warmth spread from his heart throughout the rest of his body like a lovesick poison. Here they were, on a domestic-style breakfast date at the local cafe arguing over normal couple things such as who got to pay the bill. It might’ve been small, something that seemed minuscule in the grand scheme of things, but it meant so much more to Jungkook.

Because it showed the path that they were on. And if things continued progressing the way they were, the wall of ice around Jungkook’s heart just might begin to melt.

•••

Despite the brisk winter air assaulting their senses upon exiting the warm cafe, the two of them were nothing but smiles. Well, he should say that Y/N was—the beam that lit up her face rivaled only the sun, whereas the corners of Jungkook’s lips simply turned up into a small grin.

He breathed into his hands before rubbing them together in hopes that the friction would heat them up and tried to calm the nerves dancing in his stomach. Even after spending the whole morning with her, the butterflies never stilled. It was a wonder what it felt like to have settled insides anymore.

“Jesus, why is it so freezing!” Y/N let out an adorable yelp that caused Jungkook’s smile to grow, and before he knew what she was doing–

“Are your hands cold?” She blurted the question before suddenly grabbing his hands in hers.

He stumbled to a stop, his blood running so cold that his body went numb until the sensation was burning him alive like Icy Hot in his veins. Of course he had felt her skin since their hands had last touched; he made out with her twice, for crying out loud. But that still didn’t stop the visceral, kismet energy that sparked between them like a lightning strike every time and shook both of them to the core.

Y/N looked down at their hands as if trying to make sense of the sensation, fingers barely brushing at this point, before looking back up at him. Her eyes searched his face, for what he wasn’t sure, and it was after a newfound determination settled over her features that he felt her palm against his in full force, fingers perfectly intertwined, holding his hand.

And Jungkook thought he was going to have a heart attack right there on the sidewalk.

He couldn’t believe it was happening. It was actually happening; he was actually holding her hand after all this time spent purposely trying to avoid the interaction. Though now in this moment, he suddenly couldn’t remember why he’d been trying to fight it.

It felt so good to hold her hand, so right—like their fingers and knuckles and palms were meant to cradle each other’s and no one else’s. He didn’t know that holding hands could feel like this—he’d only done so with his parents as a kid and childhood friends—but he quickly realized he was becoming addicted to the warm heart of his she was slowly starting to thaw.

Which is why after a few more moments spent in a stuttering, flustered mess, he finally pulled himself together long enough to walk hand in hand with her to the edge of the road.

“This is where my ride is picking me up,” Y/N exhaled once they slowed to a stop, though her hand never left his.

Jungkook hated the way his pulse sped up as he turned to face her with a nod. His dorm was just right across the street after all, and he had some studying of his own to catch up on. He knew he needed to get home.

So why did his feet stay planted in place, unwilling to let her go?

“Thank you for um—for breakfast.” The words stumbled from his mouth in an awkward, sheepish manner, though when he glanced up from his lowered gaze he couldn’t take his eyes off her smile.

“Thank you,” Y/N breathed, her gaze sparkling and intense and unwavering on his, “for letting me stay the night and for—for everything. I had a really good time Jungkook.”

He gulped at the unspoken tension that crackled between them; he could tell he was waiting for something that suspended in the air between them, but he couldn’t be sure of what. He’d never felt this feeling in his entire life: the feeling of desperately wanting to cling onto a moment that he knew should surely end. In any normal situation he would be spinning on his heel right now and dashing away in an effort to make a quick escape and ease his erratically pounding heart. And yet...

The sound of a booming stereo shattered the moment between them. A familiar car pulled up beside them—the same car that Y/N had used to drive them to their first date at the bowling alley, he realized—and through the open windows Jungkook could just make out the face of the first friend of hers he’d ever met.

“Hey Jungkook,” Taehyung leaned over the passenger’s seat to grin up at him in a friendly greeting, and Jungkook pressed his lips together in what he hoped looked like a makeshift smile in return. He didn’t know why there was disappointment inside his deflating gut; there was nothing left to be said between he and Y/N, right? It was time for them to part ways.

Y/N turned to look at him one last time. “I’ll see you later, okay?” She spoke almost as if she wanted to be sure of it herself as well, and thanks to a final squeeze of his hand from hers Jungkook was left a pile of putty on the ground as she got into the car and rode away.

And while he always preferred being alone, he found himself missing her presence already the second she left his side.

He walked with heavy feet back to his dormitory, desperately trying and failing to combat the giddy emotions from his mind that came along with the memories of this past night and morning. His futile efforts would’ve gone on a lot longer too had it not been for a familiar face suddenly stopping him as soon as he entered his room.

“Hey man,” Trip greeted casually, his coat and shoes still on and book bag slung over his shoulder like he’d just gotten back from class, though immediately Jungkook could sense something was off by his tone of voice.

“Hey...” Jungkook trailed off warily.

He waited a few moments before his roommate finally shook his head. “Look, I know you get pissed whenever I say something about it, but I saw you with Y/N.” He paused before letting out a sigh. “She really is bad news.”

It was the defeat, the dejection in his tone that caused Jungkook’s throat to tighten and stomach to drop in dread. Trip had just seen the two of them together on his way inside the building, and Jungkook could tell he was being genuine.

“I wouldn’t be saying this if I couldn’t tell you really like her,” his roommate continued. “She’ll just hump and dump you, dude.”

Jungkook was shaking his head before he even realized he was doing so; he so desperately wanted to believe he was wrong. “You don’t know anything about Y/N other than the rumors you’re told.” His voice was confident, spoken with conviction, though it was the sigh that fell from Trip’s lips that had Jungkook’s swirling with doubt.

“Back in August at the very beginning of the semester, I went to a party. I wanted to get to know people; classes hadn’t even started yet.”

Jungkook already didn’t like the thought of where this story was headed; he balled his hands into fists to keep his fingers from trembling as Trip continued.

“Y/N was there, and she was drunk out of her mind. Pretty sure she doesn’t even remember this, but uh, I was wasted too, and we hooked up. It was just a quickie in the bathroom; nothing special, but you know, it was her.” The expression on his face was wistful, as if he had been smitten with her that night, and Jungkook felt as if his entire world was crashing down around him.

He stumbled back a step, nauseous. Vomit threatened to crawl its way up his throat, though he somehow kept it down.

“I went to get her number afterwards and she was gone before I could even button my pants.” It was hard to mistake the sadness, the defeat in his tone. “When I saw her later on campus, she didn’t even remember me. I’d say it was just a one time thing except for the fact that she does this to guys all the time. When I started asking around about her, everyone had a similar story. Said she’d even do it sober, too. So really, don’t waste your time dude. It’s not worth it.”

Jungkook was deathly quiet. It was hard to differentiate the many emotions and tumultuous thoughts crashing down around him like an endless tsunami, so much so that he felt numb from the inside out. He simply stood in place, frozen like a statue under the assault of Trip’s confession, before spinning around on his heel and hurrying out the door.

His roommate called after him, though there was no hearing anything around him over the pounding heartbeat raging in Jungkook’s ears. He kept running, and running, and running, until he finally slowed to a stop once fresh winter air filled his lungs just outside the dormitory building.

He was going to be sick.

His palms found his knees as he bent over, ready to spew the contents of his breakfast that Y/N bought for him all over the concrete ground. His chest heaved; the nausea was there, festering in the bottom of his stomach and lodged in the back of his throat, though no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get it past the giant lump obscuring its path. Nothing would come up.

And it was then, right in the middle of this chaotic whirlwind of pain, hurt, sadness, anger, confusion, regret—just to name a few—that Jungkook felt a vibration in his pocket.

After a few more moments of heavy breathing, Jungkook’s shaking fingers fumbled to pull out his phone. And as if things couldn’t get any worse than they already were, the universe decided to mock him even further.

hey, thanks again for our date this morning! i had a lot of fun :) when do you want to get together for our next tutoring sesh?

Jungkook gulped before turning off his phone completely.

•••

It had been two weeks since you heard from Jungkook.

You wouldn’t even bat an eye at his lack of communication had this been the beginning stages of your relationship; you were very much accustomed to going out and seeking Jungkook on your own. But ever since things had started to progress for the two of you, you kept in contact through text to plan a time and date to meet up.

Only he hadn’t replied to a single one of your messages.

After not hearing back from him the first time, you sent another; maybe he was just busy catching up on his own studies, or needed some time to himself. You couldn’t fault him for that. But when that one had gone unanswered too, you started to worry. Had something happened to him?

You couldn’t find him leaving his late night art class like you usually did. He wasn’t taking his usual route to and from his classes. You even risked venturing into the library again, if only to catch a glimpse of the beautiful boy at a table in the corner or behind a computer screen, but with no such luck. All your knocks on his dorm door had gone unanswered. You even attempted to call him once or twice, but it quickly went to voicemail. You were beginning to get seriously worried that something was wrong.

Immediately your mind went to the worst. What if he had gotten hurt? What if he was stuck somewhere or dead in a ditch? And that’s what drove you to do something you hadn’t ever needed to do before: you sat outside the door of his dorm room, ass on the floor and back against the wall the entire day.

The waiting game was excruciating; you couldn’t untangle the knots from your stomach even if you tried. Your palms sweltered with a nervous heat as you fiddled with your fingers in your lap, swallowing all of your pride that made you feel like a desperate fool whenever another student would walk down the hall and give you a strange look. You could endure the embarrassment, the vulnerability that putting yourself out there took as long as it meant you got to see Jungkook. You needed to know that he was okay.

There was also the self-doubt creeping at the edges of your mind, the same dejection you were all too familiar with that told you Jungkook didn’t want to see you. That he was actively avoiding you, that you had built up every little interaction between the two of you inside your mind to make it bigger than it really was, and he actually just hated you—it ate away at you from the inside out.

But then you were remembering the way he looked at you when he awoke that fateful morning, how he let you sleep in his bed and offered to pay the bill and held your hand on the way back from your second date. There was no way you could’ve been imagining the feelings the two of you shared, could you? Regardless, you weren’t going to let Jungkook go. Not after everything you’d been through.

It was after 9:00 at night before there was movement in front of his door. You’d been staring down at your phone, tapping away at a mindless game to kill time when you heard the most glorious sound you’d ever heard in your entire life.

“Y/N?”

The speed in which your head snapped up at the sound could give you whiplash, but you didn’t even care at this point. Because Jungkook was here, standing in front of you in the flesh, and your body reacted without thinking as you jumped up from your seat on the floor and threw your arms around him in a giant hug.

“Jungkook, you’re okay!” You gushed in relief, fists gripping onto the material of his coat on his back if only to keep him from disappearing on the spot and face burying into the crook of his neck. You’d only hugged him one other time outside the art building and though the occurrence seemed like ages ago, a distant memory after all the progress you’d made, you still remembered the feelings, the overwhelming emotions coursing through you from the embrace. And god, your memory hadn’t done it justice.

The same kismet passion crashed around you like a raging storm full of thunder and lightning when the two of you collided, though right there with it at the forefront of your brain was the elation, the relief and happiness and overwhelming joy that you felt seeing him again. To hold him in your arms if only to convince yourself this was real, that he was okay, was really all you needed after weeks of being left in the dark.

Though beneath your own swirling emotions clouding your senses, you could immediately tell that something was wrong. He was stiff, rigid beneath you, though instead of this feeling like the same shell-shocked surprise he usually had, you could sense he was off. He felt distant, cold, like the giant wall of ice that was beginning to melt around his heart had frozen solid again and increased in height three times over.

Though despite your intuition alerting you of these observations, you still eventually felt his arms slowly wrap around you to reciprocate the hug as if he was reluctant to do so but had finally stopped fighting himself. And the feeling of his hold that kept you lodged against his chest was the best thing you ever could’ve felt.

You gave an extra squeeze of your arms around him to let him know that you appreciated the reciprocation before pulling away to look up at him. You needed to see his face to know if he was truly okay. You needed to see his eyes.

And there staring back at you was everything you feared and more: pain, regret, hurt. Your heart broke at the sight, and a visible frown marred your features as concern filled every fiber of your being.

“What’s wrong?”

Anguish etched across his expression at your words. You grabbed his hand, letting the familiar spark of electricity that relentlessly took your breath away travel through your veins, if only to let him know that it was alright. 

“Come on, let’s get into your room.” He felt more comfortable in private places; you knew that much from experience. “We can talk there.”

Jungkook was hesitant at that, and for a moment you were worried he was going to say no. But then a soft sigh fell from his lips and he eventually nodded his head, unlocking the door with trembling hands that didn’t go unnoticed by you and allowing the two of you to enter.

You were relieved to see that his roommate wasn’t in tonight, though you couldn’t say you were too surprised; you’d been fortunate enough to not have him there for most of your recent study sessions.

You began to speak as soon as the door shut behind him. “Are you okay? Did something happen? I’ve been texting you, calling you; I get it if you need your space, but I– I was worried.”

You admitted the last part sheepishly, feeling silly for overreacting when you could clearly see now that he was in good health. But the pain on his features, the way his eyes felt miles away from you—you knew something was bothering him.

Maybe he did just need his space—he was a loner, after all—in which case you felt self-consciously overly clingy and needy for going to the measures that you did to contact him. That was so out of character for you it wasn’t even funny; you never went out of your way to contact anyone besides your friends, and definitely not more than once. But you thought things for the two of you were finally starting to change for the better... it may have been selfish, but you thought you at least deserved a simple text explaining he wanted to be left alone, no? You would have understood.

Anxiety pricked at the base of your palms when he still hadn’t answered you. “Jungkook,” you started, taking a small step closer so not to scare him off. It felt as if you’d reverted back to how things used to be in the beginning. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

You didn’t know if it was your constant questions, his internal thoughts, or the small waver in your tone as you pleaded with him to just talk to you, but it was then that you saw his expression soften—a slight crack in his armor to reveal the gentle boy you knew was inside—and your chest flooded with hope.

“I–“ he started before stopping again, seeming to search for the right words. “I don’t– I c-can’t see you right now.”

Dread instantly swarmed in your stomach and sent it plummeting to the floor. “Why? Did something happen? Jungkook, if you don’t want to tutor me anymore that’s okay–“

“This isn’t about the tutoring,” he instantly corrected you with slightly grit teeth and a heavy sigh, almost as if he was trying to hold back. He was always trying to hold back. You wanted everything, the good and the bad and all of the in between. You just wanted him.

“Then what is it about?” You asked in a stronger tone, desperate for him to stop making you play this guessing game that was driving you insane. “Just tell me, Jungkook!”

“I know about you and Trip!” He suddenly blurted out, his words suspended in the air for a few silent moments while your mind scrambled to make sense of them. “He told me everything. He’s my– he’s my roommate, Y/N. I have to see him every day. I have to see him and all I can think about is you with him and I–“

“Wait, Jungkook, slow down,” you held your hands up to stop his rambling, your eyes closing in confusion with a shake of your head as you gathered your thoughts. “What are you talking about?”

“You–“ Jungkook paused, staring at you for a moment with his excruciatingly beautiful eyes before his shoulders deflated with a sigh. “Trip said that the two of you hooked up. At the beginning of the semester—he told me about it after he saw us out on our... you know...” And as if the wondrous boy couldn’t be any more of an enigma to you, he actually trailed off with a shy blush, unable to even mumble the words date into existence while he was here upset with you.

It broke you to see him so hurt like this, especially when you were the cause. And yet, despite the circumstances you couldn’t help the small flutter of your heart at the fact that he cared. He cared enough to get upset with you, he cared enough to voice his feelings aloud. And if anything, that did nothing but solidify what you knew the two of you had. You hadn’t been imagining things. This was real.

And you’d be damned if you ever let something as insignificant as your drunken past stand in the way of that.

“Jungkook,” you took a step forward, arms raised as if to touch him though not actually doing so. “I promise you, I have no recollection of that whatsoever. I would never purposefully sleep with your roommate, I... I–“

How did you even begin to explain to this boy that sex meant nothing to you? That you used to fuck random people all the time and it was no big deal? Surely that wouldn’t help in this situation.

The worst part was, you couldn’t even deny his words. Because you probably did fuck Trip at some point or another. Not to your knowledge, of course, though your memory was certainly nothing to use as a reliable source. You had no way of knowing if his roommate was lying or not.

Defeat marred Jungkook’s features in front of you, and all you could do was stand there and watch. This was the first time you’ve been truly disappointed in your promiscuous lifestyle.

“I... I know you don’t remember,” Jungkook finally spoke, and you were thankful that he decided to fill the silence at all. “Trip told me that too.”

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you frowned, eyes lowering with a heavy chest. “I’m sorry that it had to be him. But you have to believe me when I say that I feel nothing, absolutely nothing for him. I don’t– I don’t have feelings for people. Feelings are not something that I do.” You were rambling now, you knew you were, but you couldn’t stop the word vomit from tumbling past your lips until it was too late. “I’ve never felt anything for anyone until I met you!”

Jungkook froze at that. His doe eyes turned the size of saucers, and you were sure the total state of shock on his features was a reflection of the emotions now coursing through your body.

You’d never admitted out loud that you actually had feelings for Jungkook—not to him, at least. Sure you made it pretty fucking obvious, what with chasing him around campus since the second you met, but you had no clue what Jungkook was ever thinking; for all you knew he could’ve thought you’d been just trying to get in his pants this whole time.

So maybe this was a good thing. Maybe this was what Jungkook needed to hear. If you had to let down your walls down and be vulnerable for the first time in your life to fight for him, then you were going to have to break through the socially constructed cage of fear that was holding you back and do just that.

“How...” Jungkook’s voice was hoarse, strained when he finally spoke up, and he stopped to clear his throat. His knuckles that gripped the edge of his desk were white. “Why?”

His question caught you off guard. “Why do I have feelings for you?”

“N-no,” Jungkook spluttered at your forward statement, coughing slightly to cover the hitch you detected in his tone before clearing his throat once more. “I–I just...” he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, seeming to go through world war III in his mind before: “Why don’t you do feelings?” 

It was the question that would open the can of worms you’d been trying so desperately to keep sealed shut for the past three years. From the looks of it, if his nervous fidgeting was any giveaway, Jungkook knew this was a touchy subject for you as well. And yet he still asked it anyway, which was more progress than you could say about any conversation the two of you have ever had in the past.

You took a seat on the edge of his bed, the long sigh that left your lips followed only by the sharp inhale that filled your lungs as much as they would allow. Your attempt to quell the nerves that were rocking within your stomach was futile. Any time you thought about your past you were swarmed with the same anxiety you experienced during it, which was usually why you pushed the memories to the depths of your brain and kept them buried beneath drugs and sex and alcohol.

But one look at the gentle, profound, big brown eyes staring back at you with so much understanding, so much support despite the chaotic circumstances, and you knew you could trust him.

He was the one you wanted to open yourself up to.

“My... parents,” you started, and even just mentioning them had your throat constricting. You shuddered out a shaky exhale, and it was then that you felt the mattress beside you dip under the weight of another body.

Jungkook was sitting next to you, no parts of you touching but just close enough so that you knew he was there. Whether he did it for your benefit or not, you’d never know, but his presence brought you comfort.

“We... didn’t have a good relationship,” you frowned, tone hesitant as you tried to pick and choose the right words to describe this situation for the first time in your life. “I don’t speak to them anymore.”

Jungkook remained silent at your side, though you could tell by the twitching of his lips you saw as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye that he had questions unwilling to be voiced aloud.

You heaved a heavy sigh as you worked up the courage to continue. “T-they were abusive. Not physically—well, a little physically, but uh, m-mostly mentally, emotionally.” You fought through the painful memories to find an instance that described them well. “They left me abandoned in a parking lot when I was eight. After everything went down with the cops, child protective services, you know—they’d gotten out of it with a bullshit excuse of course—they made me feel as if it was my fault. As if I was such a burden of a child, so unlovable and disastrous that they had no other choice but to leave me there.”

The words left a bitter taste in your mouth as a grimace stayed fixed on your lips, eyes glued to the bottom bookshelf that was sitting across the room but your mind far, far away from here. This was just one of the many ways your parents neglected you as a child, though this one always stood out in your mind. Because even though they were beyond shitty to you, they were all you had. This was the first time you were ever truly afraid that you had driven them away forever.

“I blamed myself for the longest time,” you continued, gulping down the pain and unable to meet Jungkook’s eye. You didn’t want to see his expression right now. “I blamed myself when I found my mom passed out on pills or my dad drunk in a ditch, as if they needed to do these things to cope with me. And when I was sixteen, they abandoned me for good—up and left one day when I was at school. I came home to find the place empty; what little we had was gone and a for sale sign was in the front yard.”

It was then that you felt a spark of electricity jolt up your arm like a lightning strike, and when you looked down you saw that Jungkook’s hand was sitting on yours.

Could he really be willingly touching you, initiating physical contact with you for the first time since you met?

Your head snapped up to look at him for the first time since you’d started speaking, and there in the very eyes staring back at you held enough warmth, enough tenderness and compassion and love to rival every single ounce of anxiety and negative emotion that your body ever held.

It felt as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Finally you were voicing your troubles aloud after years of bottling them inside, and finally you had someone to share them with, someone who held your hand and let you know that they weren’t going anywhere despite the fear that accompanied this pain for your entire life—fear that you would be rejected, abandoned, fear that you could never be loved or wanted after dumping such a heavy load of emotional baggage onto someone else.

Yet here he was, sitting by your side and holding your hand all the same.

It was the reason why you had so many random hookups, why you never slept with the same person twice and would ghost each of them before they ever had a chance to try to get close to you; you were trying to temporarily fill the void of absent love from your parents without getting attached so that you wouldn’t get hurt. And though the act was unconscious—you’d never actually taken the time to understand your behavior until the truth was staring you straight in the face now that you were willingly thinking about your past—you realized it was selfish. Though you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it—not when it brought you to this breathtaking boy.

“I–I’m sorry,” Jungkook finally spoke, his voice cracking at the seams through his soft and reverent tone. “Did you... did you find them?”

You shook your head, unable to tear your eyes away from his hand on yours. “I don’t even know if I would’ve wanted to, to be honest,” you admitted with a frown. “They were so fucked up, Jungkook. I think being out of that toxic household was the best thing for me.”

“But you were a child; did you stay with a relative or someone?”

“I didn’t have anyone,” you spoke with conviction, hating how weak your past made you seem. That was why you pushed it to the back of your mind; you wanted to feel strong. “And there was no way I was going to risk being put in foster care or some shit like that.”

“W-what about your grandmother?” Jungkook questioned hesitantly, seeming to be worried of coming off too pushy or prodding, though that couldn’t be further from the truth. “The one who left you the money?”

“I didn’t even know she was still alive,” you shook your head with a sigh, lifting the fingers of your other hand to play with his in your palm. Your stomach fluttered and heart sung with each grazing touch. “I hadn’t seen her since I was little. My parents didn’t seem to care about who I was running around with so long as it got me off their hands, but when it came to our other family, they kept us cut off. I’m pretty sure it’s because they’d already severed whatever ties they had with their own family as well. My parents were a mess; nobody wanted to deal with them.”

Jungkook was quiet, solemn for a moment until: “So you... lived on your own?”

You nodded, silent at first before speaking along with the gesture. “More or less, yeah. I was on the streets a lot. Got a tent so I could sleep where I wanted.”

You felt Jungkook stiffen beneath your touch, seemingly mortified at that.

A gentle chuckle fell from your lips. “I didn’t mind that part too much; I was just happy to be away from them, and honestly? I liked being able to live life by my own terms on a whim. It felt like I could be truly free of them.”

There was a thinly veiled shudder that you felt rake its way through the freshman’s body. “I can’t imagine what that would feel like. My home life was so different.”

You turned to him then, knees nearly touching but not quite as you offered up a friendly smile. “What were your parents like?”

He froze up then—body and limbs turning to stone under the weighted pressure of the question, and for a moment you were worried you’d overstepped. Just because you told him about your past didn’t mean he was in any way obligated to tell you about his.

“S-sorry, I shouldn’t’ve–“

“N-no, it’s okay,” he was quick to reassure you with a wavering tone, though rather than uncertainty it seemed as if nerves were the cause. “If your parents were one extreme, then mine were on the complete opposite side of the spectrum,” he spoke after a deep breath and a nibble on his lower lip. “They were strict and put a lot of pressure on me from the time I was little—pressure to do well in school, pressure to make the family proud. They wouldn’t let me do anything if they thought it would distract me from my studies.“

You nodded thoughtfully. “I can see that—just from what you’ve mentioned briefly about your major and everything,” you quickly added. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were assuming anything about his past—not when he was finally choosing to break down his walls bit by bit and slowly let you in. It was as if you could see the ice around his heart start to melt to the ground, like ice cream in the middle of the summer, and he was terrified. It was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. Honored didn’t even begin to describe how you felt.

He chewed on his bottom lip before deciding to speak again. “I have an older brother; Junghyun is his name. He’s in the army right now, but when we were younger he was the apple of my parents’ eye. He could do no wrong—perfect student, star athlete, everyone loved him.” He sat in silence for a moment, as if he was reliving the memories and pondering his thoughts. “Growing up, it felt like I was living in his shadow. Nothing I did was ever good enough—never as good as him, at least. I always had something to prove, and it always seemed like I was failing in their eyes.”

The frown adorning your features grew at this. It was no wonder Jungkook seemed so shy and always questioned himself, continuously asking why me? when you used to hint at your feelings towards him. His parents made him feel insecure, gave him an inferiority complex like he was never good enough in the face of others.

It broke your heart to know that this was how he saw himself when to you he was the most magnificent human being you’d ever met.

“Jungkook,” you grasped his hand a little tighter, gave it a squeeze that matched the squeeze of your heart at the action. “You have to know that’s not true.”

“I...” Jungkook trailed off, the words seeming to get caught in his throat as he gazed at you. Neither of you seemed to mind the stretch of silence that ensued as you stared into each other’s eyes. There were many unspoken words, so many emotions charged within the space between you that it was hard to breathe.

“They did it out of love,” he finally ripped his eyes away and lowered them to the floor, his words a mumble as if trying to convince himself of this as well. “I know this, of course; they’re hard on me because they just want what’s best for me and my future. But... it still affected me.” He glanced at you then, his cheeks suddenly turning a dusty rose. “Living such a sheltered life is part of the reason why I’d never... been with anyone before. Not even my... f-first kiss.”

You stared at him, floored. “Never?”

He just shook his head sheepishly, the spitting image of embarrassment as his face was now beet red.

You tried to keep your expression neutral so not to offend him; the last thing you wanted was to make him feel ashamed for his lack of experience. Yet you still couldn’t help but slightly widen your eyes. “Really? I mean– I wondered if that might be the case but I never would’ve thought I’d be right–“

His face blanched at your words, and you immediately regretted saying them. “That bad?” He eventually asked with a wince.

“No, god no are you kidding?” You chuckled in disbelief at the thought that he would ever doubt what was the best kiss of your life, though you forwent elaborating the meaning of your words in favor of continuing. “I’m just surprised, is all. You must’ve had girls lining up at your doorstep.”

Jungkook scrunched his nose, confusion etched onto his features. “Why would you think that?”

You gave him a look as if to say, really? And before you could control yourself your mouth kinda just—

“You’re beautiful.”

Jungkook looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

You wanted to take it back. The expression on his face made you feel as if you’d made a mistake, though as much as that tortured you, you knew you couldn’t. Because you meant it, had been thinking it since the very first moment you laid eyes on him, and god damn it, he deserved to hear it every second of every day.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–“

You didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable. But the words got caught in your throat and strangled you speechless, because it was at that moment that a bright pink sprouted on the apples of Jungkook’s previously blanched cheeks and spread to the tips of his ears to match the shy smile that was spreading across his face, growing more and more until you saw the hint of teeth peaking behind his lips and his effort to hide the expression became futile.

Any time you were graced with his smile was a time you would not take for granted; the sight of it still stunned you to silence as you marveled at his beauty.

“I... I–I tend to keep to myself a lot,” Jungkook’s words started stumbling from his mouth before you had a chance to process everything that was happening, almost as if he was explaining himself, so you just sat there dazed in a trance while you watched. “I was the same way in high school. There wasn’t anyone I felt strongly enough to want to be with before–“

He stopped just as your heart rate spiked. You sat on the edge of your seat with bated breath, but Jungkook simply averted his gaze and nibbled on his bottom lip.

“Before what?” You tried to keep the desperation from your voice as you gently urged him to continue.

A gulp raked down Jungkook’s throat before he inhaled sharply and suddenly looked at you, the intense eye contact reminding you of the staring contest weeks ago and striking you to your core.

“Before you,” he finally finished.

And it was the last thing you heard before your lips were on his.

•••

Jungkook had never been so happy in his entire life.

His heart just felt so... full. He’d avoided Y/N after what Trip had told him because it hurt, hurt too much to imagine her with someone else but especially with the one person who was unavoidable, the one person he saw everyday and had no chance avoiding like he did the rest of the people on campus. At least with all of her other rumored fucks, he’d been able to distance himself. But with Trip, it made everything so... real. Jungkook now knew someone personally affected by Y/N’s actions; for some reason, that made things so much worse.

He knew he should’ve given her the benefit of the doubt. Jungkook used to jump to conclusions and make snap judgments about someone based on what others would say, but he’d gotten better about that with Y/N. It’s just that everything Trip said had brought back every insecurity and fear he’s ever had about Y/N—that he would let himself fall for her and ultimately end up just another name on the long list of men who had wished for something more. Every guy she’s been with had been smitten; what made him so different that she pursued him? Maybe she just liked the chase. He was just foolish if he believed that a few tutoring sessions made him more special than the men she partied with on a daily basis.

And so that’s why his defense mechanism had instinctively kicked in—to protect himself from getting hurt. But he knew it was too late. He cared too much at this point. The pain of ignoring her was almost as bad as the pain of Trip’s words, and that’s why he was like putty in her hands the second he saw her waiting on his doorstep. He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist her. But the thought of her with his roommate, with the only person he was physically forced to see until the end of the year, still hurt more than he was willing to admit. He just didn’t know what to do, so he did what he knew best; he fled.

But then Y/N confessed to having feelings for him—actual feelings that didn’t involve himself just being a quick fuck, he desperately hoped—and his entire world flipped upside down. Certainly he had heard her wrong, right? It couldn’t have been that he was wrong about her motives from the very start? Or was he right about her initial motives, and her feelings for him simply changed as time went on? Or was she just lying to placate his pain in order to get in the position they were in now, with her hand in his hair and his lips on hers? 

But then she did the unimaginable to take him by surprise yet again: she opened up to him about her past. And if there was one thing he knew about Y/N, it was that she didn’t do that. He could tell that not even her closest friends had been let in by her, and so when she started telling him about her parents and the awful childhood she’d had, Jungkook knew she was telling the truth about everything.

And suddenly it all made sense. All the rumors he’s ever heard, drugs and alcohol and stories of Y/N jumping from guy to guy without so much as a second glance—her past explained all of it.

He recognized the behavior signs as soon as she opened up and let him in; she was pushing people away, same as he was, only she was going about it in a much different way, because she lacked the familial love that Jungkook had growing up from his parents and brother no matter how hard they were on him. Jungkook couldn’t believe what his ears were hearing when Y/N told him of her past; no child should ever have to deal with that much abuse or emotional trauma, much less from their parents, the two people who were supposed to teach and give a child endless amounts of love and support. Y/N missed out on both in her childhood. Which explained why she would spend nights with random men, to temporarily fill the void without getting attached so she wouldn’t get hurt. It explained why she didn’t want to get close to people.

What it didn’t explain was why she was here with him.

If she didn’t do feelings, as she so hastily told him amidst her passion-fueled confession, then why did she have feelings for him? What was so special about him that set him apart from the other men who vied for her attention?

He couldn’t begin to unravel the complexity and intricacies that were her mind, but even if he could, he didn’t know if it would even matter. Because against all odds, it was he who she was consistently pursuing, he who she had feelings for. And though he didn’t understand it, he was too far gone, too selfish to want to question it at the moment. Especially since Jungkook had admitted aloud the one thing he was most terrified and insecure about when it came to being with Y/N: he had no experience. While this girl had been with more people than he even knew, he had been with no people whatsoever. He admitted this to her, and yet she didn’t care; she wanted to be with him anyway. 

And so that was what fueled him forward, caused him to abandon all reservation and lean into the kiss and do what he truly wanted, what just felt right when it came to being with Y/N.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and led with his heart.

•••

Somehow every second that you spent with Jungkook just got better and better.

Every kiss took your breath away, seemed infinitely better than the last; turns out your memory was worse than you thought, because when you thought your memory had done the sensation of his lips pressed against yours justice, you learned every time that it most certainly did not.

You could feel the tension and restraint that normally held Jungkook back physically melt until he was nothing but a puddle beneath your touch, the passion and love that was radiating from your being met with the mirroring emotions of his own until they fizzled and cracked between the two of you like a blazing fire and erupted your souls in an inferno that seemed to meld the two of you together as one.

There was something so much deeper happening beneath the surface while the two of you kissed; it was kismet, intangible, unstoppable. Which was why when you tugged on his hair as you had the very first time the two of you had ever made out and heard the very same moan that haunted your dreams ever since, there was no stopping you this time—no roommate to barge in, no signs of Jungkook making a run for the door. And it was when you felt the searing touch of Jungkook’s hand against your cheek, so gentle and soft and spreading like wildfire, you brought your leg over his as you had attempted to do previously in his desk chair and finally succeeded this time in settling atop his open lap.

The effect was instantaneous. Jungkook became a brick wall beneath you, having never been physically close to anyone in his life, though the audible moan that fell from your lips and onto his at the feeling of his body pressed against yours in ways that not even a hug could fulfill caused him to throw all caution to the wind.

He was putty, susceptible to all of your movements as you dug your fingers deeper into his scalp, his hands giving away just how flustered and overwhelmed he must’ve felt in this moment before they flew to settle on the fabric covering your hips.

It took everything in you not to devour him right then and there, but you somehow managed to break the kiss. Heavy breaths filled the confined space between you as both of your chests rose and fell with panting, physically and emotionally and mentally teetering on the edge. Though in reality, the two of you hadn’t gone far at all. Not by your usual standards, at least. But somehow, it felt like you’d gone farther than ever before.

“Is this okay?” Your voice was faint, a breathless murmur against his lips as you rested your forehead on his and gazed deeply into the eyes that seemed to consume your heart and soul in one glance.

He looked up at you as well, expression bewildered yet somehow blown out with lust in a way that shot straight to your core. For a moment you worried that this was too much for him. Hell, this was almost too much for you, and you’d straddled countless laps in your lifetime. The connection between the two of you was so strong that it was overwhelming, almost too overwhelming—which was why you were in need of proper breaks before your head exploded—and you were afraid that it would scare him off.

Though your heart leapt to heights unknown when he gently nodded his head. There was a soft smile that crept onto the corners of his lips, one that made your expression burst into elation, and he was eventually opening his mouth.

“Y-yes.”

His voice was hoarse when he spoke, and you moved your hands from his hair down the length of his neck until you were cradling his cheek, your thumb swiping over the supple skin of his breathtaking face. You could tell that he was getting in his own head the longer you remained apart, had learned enough about reading his facial expressions and body language by now to know that him biting his lower lip was never a good sign, which was why as soon as his consent was granted you leaned down to place a soft, reassuring kiss on the tip of his nose before giving into your desires and replacing his teeth with your own on his plump bottom lip like you’ve always wanted to.

Jungkook hissed with an inhale of surprise, his hands tightening and fingers digging into your waist, and your hips involuntarily rocked against his in reaction to the sensation as your tongue slipped past his parted lips and tasted the caverns of his mouth.

And god, you could get drunk off his taste.

He was sweeter, so much sweeter than you ever thought possible, and the sensation of his tongue pressed against your own was so addictive that you knew you would never need another illegal substance to get high again. Because this, this was much more dangerous than any drug you’ve ever had in your system.

His breath was already heavier than before in your mouth, if that was even possible, and the intoxicating heat caused your head to spin with a level of arousal you didn’t even know existed. His arousal was evident in his pants as well—you knew far too much about the male anatomy to ever misconstrue what that felt like—and the knowledge that you had actually given Jungkook an erection paired with the onslaught of bliss that was currently inflicted on your body was almost too much for your poor heart to handle. You couldn’t imagine what Jungkook must be feeling given that everything, not just the emotional nirvana that you were experiencing, was new to him. And despite the desire that you were feeling, the urge to take care of him and make him feel safe through all of this was much, much stronger.

You halted your movements before you got carried away in favor of gazing down at his big brown eyes that always made your heart clench. The way your breath mingled together was ecstasy.

“Let me know if you want to stop,” you spoke to him with as soothing of a tone as you could manage given the fact that your pussy was throbbing. You wanted him to trust you.

Despite the broken kiss, the heavy rise and falls of your chests prohibited the rest of your body from staying still, and so your hips ever-so-slightly rolled against his like a docked ship would float at port. It was more of an after-effect, really, though it was enough to leave your thoughts a jumbled mess. So many emotions clouded your senses and kept you from thinking straight, and so when he nodded again and showed no signs of stopping you, you led with your heart instead of your head and leaned forward until his back was propped against the headboard of his bed.

Your lips crashed together in the throes of unabashed passion, every feeling you’ve ever felt for one another cultivating to this catalyst of a moment in which there was no stopping, no coming back from. You didn’t know where your body stopped and his begun, but it didn’t matter either way because in this moment the only thing that you knew was Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook. His chest against yours, his hands on your hips, his dick pressing to your core—the sensation was stronger and more vivid through your layers of clothes than anything you’ve ever felt bare. And unless you heard his words of objection that would tumble your movements to a halt, there was no stopping the acts of lust and love that coursed through your veins with the fury of a thousand storms. This was what it felt like to be truly alive.

Jungkook was a mess of pleasured whimpers beneath you; you could tell he was trying to contain them against your mouth, though you weren’t sure why. These were the most beautiful, euphonious sounds you’d ever heard, even while muffled, and you just couldn’t help yourself from trailing a path of searing kisses down the heavenly muscle found on the side of his neck—a perfect column to drag your lips across, you soon found, and it also meant freeing his glorious sounds.

It was pure music to your soul. With each rock of your hips another breathless moan left the back of his throat, each one curling around the shell of your ear and making a home in the depths of your core that only fueled your movements forward, too far gone and wrapped up in the moment to ever dream of stopping. And when you felt his hips slowly start to buck up into yours as well to match the pace of your thrusts, you surely thought you’d died and gone to heaven.

“Jungkook,” you murmured in a blissful daze, already missing the taste of his lips after having been away from them for what felt far too long. Your tone was desperate, needy, though you couldn’t find it in yourself to care what with the way his grip tightened on your hips when your lips found his again.

He groaned against them, the sound muffled to your ears though your tongue swallowed it whole and you cradled his face with more tenderness and affection than you ever knew you were capable of mustering in such a heated and lustful moment. God, you never knew it was possible to feel this... good.

The feeling of his hardened length digging into your center as you pressed as close as humanly possible and rocked your hips caused your brain to short circuit, though you were way past the point of computing the sheer impossibility of everything that was happening. You’re pretty sure you were dreaming and having an out of body experience right now. Was this really Jungkook, the boy who could barely even speak when you first met and wouldn’t look you in the eyes? And if so, how did you get so fucking lucky as to be so intimately close to him this way?

You didn’t know, and frankly you didn’t possess the mental capacity to focus on it while Jungkook’s hips continued rutting in time with yours and creating an atomic bomb of ecstasy every time your centers met. You lost all sense of sanity when his head leaned back against the headboard with furrowed brows of pleasure and an open-mouthed moan. The sight was singlehandedly the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

“Oh god...” Jungkook huffed out between panting breaths, and you were torn between wanting to study his expression and burn it into memory with a branding iron or cover every inch of exposed skin with your lips. His eyes opened to look up at you beneath hooded lids, and when another breathy whimper fell from his lips you couldn’t help but dive back in to taste it.

“Wait, ah, Y/N–“ his lips parted only for endless moans and incoherent sounds that sounded a lot like your name to flood the the caverns of your mouth like a waterfall of euphoria, gushing and gushing until it was overflowing and spilling over the top–

Your ears were ringing with sounds more divine than a choir of angels, but it was only when you felt the new sensation of something wet and warm against your center that you paused long enough to look down between you. Your forehead rested against his, panting chests brushing one another with every harsh inhale as you took in the sight something dark spreading over the crotch of his pants.

Your breath hitched in your throat before you could stop it. Was that what you thought it was?

You glanced back up to see Jungkook’s eyes fluttering beneath closed lids, the life seeming to slowly seep back into him with every passing second. There was sweat covering the edge of his hairline and dampening the roots of his hair, and god, he looked so breathtakingly beautiful that it hurt.

You were wrong before, when you said that that was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. Because this—Jungkook beneath you with a dazed expression of sexual bliss after having just came in his pants because of you—this was by far the hottest thing of your entire life.

You smiled then; god he just looked so... so serene. You loved the thought that he felt so good, and you loved that you got to be the one to make him feel that way. Which was why you couldn’t help yourself when you leaned down to pepper gentle, soothing kisses to every inch of his adorable face. You’d wanted to be this close to him for so long, and it was finally happening. Happy didn’t even begin to describe how you felt; you were higher than cloud nine.

When Jungkook finally came to, you felt his expression physically shift beneath your lips—first came shock, then mortification, then regret.

“O-oh my god, I’m—I’m so sorry–“

And it was before you could even open your mouth to reassure him everything was alright that he scrambled out from under you and bolted off the bed.

“No, it’s oka–“

“You should go.” He quickly turned his back to you and made his way to his dresser, sifting frantically through the clothes. Whether he was actually looking for a particular article of clothing or just wanted to keep busy and avoid you, you’ll never know.

“Jungkook–“

“Please.”

He turned to look at you then, and the furrowed brows and frown of sheer desperation on his features was so strong that it looked as he was about to cry. And though it absolutely broke your heart to see him this distraught, you knew he needed you to listen to him. He needed you to leave.

Your attempt to swallow the lump in your throat was futile as you nodded your head and got to your feet. You would do as he asked, of course you would—but there was no way in hell you were leaving him to beat himself up over this.

He kept his back to you, face and neck and ears the color of tomatoes, though you approached him anyways and slowly put a hand to his shoulder.

“Please don’t worry, Jungkook... I promise it’s okay.” You curled your arms around him then, slowly and carefully so not to scare him off when you felt him stiffen beneath your touch. “That—that was the best experience of my life.”

And though you were beyond sheepish to admit such deep feelings aloud, you would do it tens times over if it meant giving Jungkook the confidence he needed. The look of pure bewilderment on his expression as he whipped his head around to look at you was well worth it. He thought you were crazy, you knew he did. But that didn’t make your words any less true.

When it was evident he wasn’t going to reply you smiled softly, reassuringly, before sliding your hand from his shoulder to his face to cradle his cheek in your palm. The spark of electricity was still there at the lightest of touches despite how close you’d just been, though this time you tried to ignore it in favor of leaning in and pressing your lips to his one last time.

His jaw was still slack from your previous words and his lips remained unmoving beneath the feathery kiss, too stunned from your touch to do anything, but you didn’t mind. Whatever he was battling with internally, you would let him deal with it however he saw fit, so long as he didn’t question where you stood. So what if he finished prematurely in his pants from solely dry humping? It didn’t matter because it was him—hotter even so because of it. And you would use your last dying breath making him understand that if that’s what it took.

He didn’t move from his position as you backed away and gave him a reluctant parting wave on your way out the door. As much as you didn’t want to leave him like this, you knew it’s what he wanted, so you were going to respect that.

After all, it wouldn’t be for long. There’s no way he was getting rid of you that easily.

[erin-bo-berin]

In The Blink Of An Eye

MASTERLIST

So, I literally wrote this at the beginning of quarantine I think? So two months ago. Not sure why it has taken so long for me to post it, but at least now its seeing the light of day. We love some daddy Spencer, but with some angst thrown in there. Hope you all enjoy. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: G (angst & fluff)

Word Count: 3,268

He had no idea how it had happened. Or how it had happened so quickly. 

Everything had been going smoothly, but of course he knew well enough that things could change so quickly, in just a blink of an eye.

•

Spencer was so excited to finally meet his son. 

After nine long months of waiting, feeling his kicks and talking to him through Y/N’s belly, he would finally be able to hold him in his arms and see him in person. He couldn’t wait.

It was 3 am when she’d woken him up. She’d awoke about an hour before to pain, figuring it was just Braxton Hicks, until she’d started timing the contractions. They steadily had gotten worse and closer together, so she knew it was time to head to the hospital.

With all of the knowledge he had, plus everything he’d read on the subject, Spencer knew it would probably be a waiting game. It took a while for a woman’s body to go through the stages of labor, sometimes even a long time. 

He was completely ready to be by her side through it all though. 

The contractions started out pretty bearable for her. She was able to talk through them and get some rest. It was the middle of the night, after all.

He had made himself a bed on the small couch in the labor and delivery room, trying to rest per her orders, but he was too anxious, too excited.

“I know you’re not sleeping over there,” she chuckled.

“I can’t help it,” he mumbled with his eyes closed, “I’m excited.”

He heard her laughter and he opened one eye to peer at her. She was sitting up in the hospital bed, clothed in a hospital gown, hair in a messy updo and no makeup on yet she looked the most beautiful he had ever seen her.

“Get some rest,” she ordered, with no room for anymore conversation.

So he did. Maybe an hour or so.

Around 5 am the doctor had come to check her. So far, she was only 3 centimeters dilated. 

More waiting ensued.

She wanted to take a walk around the hospital, so of course he obliged.

“I’m starving,” she whined, poking her belly as she walked with Spencer next to her, “Come on little man and be born already. Mommy wants to eat.”

Spencer chuckled, rubbing a hand over her tightening bump. He could tell another contraction was beginning by just how tight her stomach felt underneath his hand.

“Another contraction?”

She nodded, stopping to breathe through it. They were getting more difficult for her, but she was being such a champ.

Spencer felt awful. Seeing her in so much pain hurt him too, knowing he couldn’t do anything but just stand by and support her.

He rubbed her back, kissing her head, helping her sway a bit. Something she discovered had helped a bit with her contractions.

“See? Another one down,” he smiled, taking her hand and beginning to walk with her again when the pain had passed.

“Yeah and a million more to go,” she groaned, side eyeing him.

“Just take it one contraction at a time,” he soothed, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb, “You’re doing amazing, Y/N.”

After walking for a while, she switched to the birthing ball—which he requested for her, of course. He’d done as much reading as he could in the weeks leading up to this and knew it might help some of the pain she was in.

She sat and bounced on it for a while, chatting with him between contractions. Her spirits were high and things were going great. 

Ice chips had become her kryptonite. She was quite literally eating them like they were going out of style. At least it was keeping her hydrated.

She opened her mouth playfully, silently begging for another spoonful of ice chips which he fed her. She grinned, thanking him and took the cup from him.

“If you keep this up, you’re gonna cause a shortage of ice for this poor hospital,” Spencer said.

She stuck out her tongue jokingly and ate another spoonful. 

He would do whatever kept her comfortable and happy and if that meant more ice chips, he’d get them for her.

-

The contractions were getting worse.

Obviously, that was a good thing as labor progressed, but a bad thing for Y/N. 

She had already stated she knew her pain tolerance was low and planned on getting an epidural, but doctors wanted her to wait until she was 4 centimeters. 

She had yet to get there.

Her contractions were to the point where she’d bent over the bed, clutching the sheets, her moans and groans being muffled by the bed.

“Just breathe honey, you’re doing great.”

Spencer rubbed her back, sometimes holding her close as she clutched on to him for dear life, whimpering into his chest or neck. 

He knew as well as anyone else that it was just a part of labor, but it was hard seeing her in so much pain. If he could, he would rather suffer through it himself instead of her.

She was mentally and physically exhausted, that much he could tell. 

He had helped her lay down after her last contraction, knowing that the epidural was on its way. She had finally dilated enough to get the epidural and he hoped the anesthesiologist would hurry.

It took half an hour, but the epidural finally arrived. 

He held on to her as she bent over enough for the drugs to be administered, her hands gripping his forearms.

She was like a different person after the epidural. 

“It’s like having the hands of God laid on you,” she chuckled, “The relief is amazing.”

He was more at ease knowing she was more comfortable and in a lot less pain.

“At least the hardest part is over,” he reassured her.

Afterwards, she managed to sleep for two hours. Spencer laid in the bed cuddling her which was no small feat with how tiny the bed was.

The nurse came in to check on things and he put his finger to his lips, motioning to Y/N. The nurse smiled and nodded, going about her business in the room before leaving again.

He stroked her hair, watching her sleep. Before long, she would be awake and ready to push their little boy into the world. He was filled with a surge of love, so strong that he leaned down and kissed her forehead gently before snuggling her closer.

“I love you, Y/N.”

•

“You ready to have a baby?”

The doctor had gotten suited up and the nurses had shifted Y/N in position. After a few practice pushes, it was time for the real thing.

Spencer stood on one side of her, helping hold one of her legs up and the nurse counted out loud as she began to push.

“That’s great, you’re doing wonderful, Y/N,” the doctor encouraged when the contraction had faded.

The nurse placed an oxygen mask over Y/N’s mouth.

“Just to help you to keep breathing between pushes,” she told both her and Spencer.

He nodded, still feeling a bit concerned. He had no reason to worry though, it wouldn’t be long until the baby would be out and everything would be right in the world, to him.

“Okay, get ready to push again,” the doctor instructed.

Spencer felt her grip his hand as she beared down hard to push, her eyes squeezed shut, using all the strength she had.

“Come on baby, come on, that’s it, you’re doing it!” Spencer coached, holding tight to her hand.

Her hand flew up to try to take the mask off, but the nurse shook her head.

Things took a sharp turn for the worse then.

“Ow, ow, ow, I can’t!” she cried from behind the oxygen mask.

She’d suddenly gone from relatively calm to almost screaming in pain. Spencer tried not to panic, but in his gut he knew something was wrong.

“Is she alright?” he glanced at the doctor nervously, “Is that normal?”

“She may just be experiencing pain from pushing or her epidural may be wearing off,” the doctor explained.

“No, no, NO.” Y/N was shaking her head vehemently, “It hurts, it hurts!”

“You’re doing good, honey,” the doctor soothed.

Spencer knew she wasn’t catching on that something was wrong. But he was. He knew something was terribly wrong.

“Push!”

The order came from the nurse.

Spencer was sure he felt his heart break in that moment when doing what she was asked, she let out the most bloodcurdling scream he’d ever heard.

“Baby’s heart rate is dropping!” one of the nurses shouted, eyes on the monitor.

It was at that moment that a vast amount of blood started pouring out of her at an alarming rate. Machines started screaming at the same time.

“Spencer,” she moaned weakly, beginning to lose consciousness.

“Y/N! Y/N, no! Come on stay with me, baby,” he pleaded with her.

“She’s hemorrhaging,” the Doctor said, barking orders to the rest of the team, “We need to get this baby out now or we could risk losing them both.”

Losing them both. Spencer never even thought of the horrible case scenarios such as this one. His world was spinning and he couldn’t understand what was being said to him. He couldn’t take his eyes off Y/N who was all of a sudden pale, not moving and unconscious. He knew there was enough blood that it was already soaking through the birthing pad that’d been placed under her pre-pushing.

“Sir, did you hear me?” the nurse asked, frustrated.

“W-What was that?” he asked, trying to focus on what the nurse was about to say.

“We need to rush her into emergency surgery. She needs an emergency C-section so no more danger comes to the baby and immediately afterwards we need to find the cause of the hemorrhage to stop it. You’ll have to stay in the waiting room.”

“I- Okay.”

Too much was happening too fast.

It only took moments for the medical staff to whisk her away, with their baby still inside her.

He ran his hands through his mess of curls, disrupting them even further.

He could lose their baby.

He could lose Y/N.

He might never see either of them again.

•

It had been an agonizing two hours without a word about what was going on.

He paced, he fumbled with his phone, he even tried to read, but nothing was going to help the anxiety that had settled in the pit of his stomach.

He ended up wandering the hospital aimlessly, feeling quite akin to a lost puppy. He didn’t know nor did he want to know what his life would be like without Y/N in it.

When he stumbled upon the hospital chapel, it gave him pause.

Spencer had never been against religion, just been more of a man of science, but there had been an incident once. 13 years ago now.

He’d been kidnapped and tortured by an unsub they were hunting; Tobias Hankel. He had actually died at one point before being resuscitated by him.

He felt warmth, saw a bright light, felt love. 

He wasn’t one that was spiritual himself, but he couldn’t deny what he experienced. Which is how he’d ended up seated in one of the pews, looking down at his hands.

He was desperate at this point. He would do anything in his power. So he closed his eyes tightly, fighting the tears and said a prayer.

If you’re listening, please let Y/N and our baby be okay.

He sat there for a while more, alone with his thoughts. Surprisingly, the quiet was somewhat peaceful to him. 

“Dr. Reid?”

He startled at his name and turned to see one of the young nurses from the labor and delivery room standing in the doorway. His heart pounded wildly, afraid of what she was about to say.

“Yes?”

He was on his feet in an instant and standing in front of her.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Your baby boy was born safe and healthy. We can bring him to the room if you’d like to see him.”

Safe. Healthy.

Spencer nodded quickly.

“I’ll be right there.”

•

Spencer fidgeted nervously, anticipating the first time he laid eyes on his son. He was crestfallen that he wasn’t able to be there for his actual birth, but just knowing he was alive and well was enough for him.

He looked up as a nurse wheeled in a clear baby cot. A tiny, swaddled bundle lay in it, a little blue cap on his head.

“He’s a perfect 6 pounds and 8 ounces,” the nurse, who Spencer finally realized was named Nancy, said.

He couldn’t help it. Tears formed as he reached in the cot, gently picking up his little boy.

He was peacefully asleep, oblivious to all the current chaos. 

His newborn baby skin was smooth under Spencer’s finger as he stroked his cheek gently. He was positive that he had Y/N’s entire face, maybe except for the nose. That in itself was all him.

“Hey there little guy,” Spencer’s choked whisper came out.

Tears streamed down his face and he had to shift him just to be able to wipe them away with a free hand. He had a hard time with emotions, but right now it had all seemed to boil over. 

He was scared, anxious, happy and relieved at the same time. 

“We already fed him since your wife wasn’t able to at the moment,” nurse Nancy said.

Spencer looked up at her.

“Is she alright?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” she said apologetically, “I was only in there long enough to help after the delivery and tend to the baby.

His face fell and he looked back at the bundle in his arms. He made cooing sounds in his sleep, stirring a deep love in Spencer’s heart. He couldn’t bear to think of Y/N never getting to experience motherhood.

“If you hear anything, will you let me know?” Spencer asked.

“Of course,” she replied sympathetically, “I’ll personally keep check myself.”

He was grateful for her. She didn’t have to go out of her way to help him, but she was.

“What’s his name?” she questioned, curiosity lingering in the question.

“Noah. We decided on Noah Matthew.”

“That’s a lovely name,” Nancy smiled, turning to leave, but pausing at the last minute.

“I choose to believe she’ll make it.”

It wasn’t what he expected her to say. He looked at her curiously.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because a mother’s love for her child is a powerful weapon.”

•

Noah had woken a few times while Spencer held him. He didn’t want to let him go, so he sat and held tight to his son like he was his only lifeline.

“I hope mommy will be okay,” he whispered to him.

He opened his eyes again, looking up at Spencer, an arm popping out of the swaddle. It was such an unexpected gesture that it made Spencer laugh.

He held the tiny little fist in his much larger hand, kissing it gently.

“I know you’ve spent nine months inside mommy, listening to her voice, but she’s pretty awesome on this side too, bud. She’s going to be the type of mother that would drop anything and everything to help her little boy.”

More cooing and gurgling noises ensued, Noah’s gaze on Spencer as he spoke.

“I’m sure you’re totally going to be a mommy’s boy. I can’t say I blame you because I am. It’s such a special bond for a son to have with his mommy. I really, really hope you get to experience that.”

Spencer’s voice cracked on the last few words, his anxiety still very much present even though he was physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted at this point. 

“Guess what?” he said, shifting Noah in his arms so he held his head with one hand, his other on his bottom, facing up towards him.

“You’re more perfect than I even imagined,” Spencer said.

Noah began to fuss and Spencer stood, swaying gently.

“I know, I know,” he soothed, placing him against his chest, rubbing his back, still talking to him.

“It’s going to be okay. Everything will be okay.”

•

At some point Spencer fell asleep with Noah in his arms. The nurse couldn’t pry him away from Spencer, though she had tried to earlier before he’d fallen asleep.

Somehow, Noah gave him strength.

There was no telling how long it had been by the time he dozed off, but it felt like he’d been asleep only mere seconds when he felt an urgent touch on his arm.

“Dr. Reid.”

He startled awake, accidentally jarring Noah just a bit to the point he made a protesting gurgle. Spencer looked up to see nurse Nancy kneeling by his side. She spoke before he could even voice any of the questions that were swirling in his mind.

“Y/N’s out of surgery,” she said gently, “She’s going to be just fine. I talked to the surgeon myself.”

Relief immediately filled Spencer from head to toe. He was so relieved, he was sure he would probably cry again. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so emotional.

“What happened?” he whispered, voice still a bit raspy from sleep.

“She had a placenta previa which means-”

“The placenta covers the opening of the mother’s cervix,” he rattled off from memory, “I thought that was diagnosed during a pregnancy? How was it missed?”

“I’m not sure Dr. Reid other than the fact that it never showed up on an ultrasound as anything unusual. Or it possibly shifted during labor and it went undiscovered. But the good news is with the cesarean, we got him out alright and removed the placenta. All of the pushing put her body under pressure and she started bleeding because of it. They managed to stop the bleeding as well, it just took some time. It’s going to be a bit of a rougher recovery period due to all she went through, but she’s going to be fine.”

“Thank you. Thank you for everything,” he replied, gratefully, hugging Noah close to him.

“Would you like to see her? I can take you to her recovery room. She should be waking up soon.”

“Please.”

Spencer followed her, not letting go of his son.

•

When your eyes opened, the first thing you noticed was how bright the lights were in your eyes. The next thing you noticed was just how much pain you were in. You moaned softly, turning your head to the side, still trying to focus your eyes on the large shape that was next to your bed.

After blinking a few times, you realized it was Spencer.

“Y/N?!”

His voice was frantic and suddenly his face was hovering right over yours.

“Spencer?” 

He ran a hand over your hair, kissing your forehead firmly. Tears shone bright in his eyes.

“What happened? Is Noah alright?”

It was then that he pulled back far enough so you could see the little bundle in his arms. You weren’t sure how you missed him before. He moved so you could see Noah’s face.

“Say hello to mommy, little guy,” Spencer smiled.

His eyes locked with yours, displaying his happiness, anxiety, fear, relief and love.

“Tell her to never scare us like that again.”

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[asexual-juliet]

Why Making Cassidy Casablancas the Rapist was an Absolute Shit Move

1. It’s a blatant retcon of 1.21 Veronica spends 1.21: A Trip to the Dentist looking for the person who raped her at Shelly Pomroy’s party sophomore year. She eventually finds out that it was Duncan, who had also been drugged and who had believed the sex was consensual. During her questioning of them, Dick, Sean, and Cassidy confirm that Cassidy had been left alone in a bedroom with Veronica that night, but Cassidy swears he never touched her—“Look, I swear to god, I didn't touch you, Veronica. Okay, I mean, Dick, he was, he was all on me to, and there was, there was this girl, this, this freshman, her name's Cindy, and she's kind of, well, she's easy, you know, and me and her, we were, we were supposed to—I don't know, Dick—Dick, he set something up, okay, and then, and then she was all over Logan and then she left early with him.” Cassidy seems genuine, if not a bit nervous and rambling, and Rob Thomas himself has admitted that while Cassidy was introduced with the knowledge that he would later become the season two villain, the idea of him being the rapist didn’t come along until later. For the writers to reveal him as the rapist twenty-three episodes after the plotline was neatly tied up reads as an overt attempt to start some unnecessary drama.

2. The show provides no solid reason as to why Cassidy raped Veronica. The only possible motives Not Pictured provides for the rape are Veronica’s assumption that Cassidy “wanted to prove [he was] a man” and the underlying implication that his childhood of sexual abuse thoroughly fucked him up both emotionally and sexually. Veronica’s assumption makes no sense when paired with the fact that nobody knew Cassidy had raped her until a year-and-a-half or so after the fact. If he really wanted to “prove himself,” he would have probably at least told his brother, who was the only reason he had the opportunity to rape Veronica in the first place. The argument can be made (as it was by my brother, who is sick of listening to me talk about this shit) that Cassidy didn’t tell anyone what happened because it was illegal, reprehensible, and would definitely have landed him in jail. This is all true, but Dick Casablancas is, despite his charm, a piece of garbage who, as written in seasons 1-2, would not have given a single fuck that Cassidy had raped Veronica. Dick demonstrates his tendency and ability to withhold important information from the authorities in 1.22: Leave it to Beaver, when he tells Cassidy “You need to chill out, Beav, right now. To the grave, man, that's what we said,” in reference to the fact that Logan was not in Mexico when Lilly was murdered. This information was (although not in the way Dick may have expected) crucial in implicating the real murderer of Lilly Kane. Both Dick’s lax regard for the law and the fact that he himself was the one who encouraged Cassidy to rape Veronica suggest that if Cassidy had told him what had really happened at Shelly’s party, there would be very, very little risk of Dick going to the authorities. Thus, the motive of “prov[ing himself] a man,” doesn’t hold up: if Cassidy really wanted to prove himself to someone, it would be Dick, and he would probably have told him what happened. We know for a fact that this isn’t the case because when Veronica accuses Cassidy of raping her, he just responds “And Dick still thinks I’m a virgin. You see, I know how to keep a secret.” Another interpretation of the “proving himself as a man” thing is that Cassidy was attempting to prove to himself that he was a man, but I honestly don’t know if that tracks, because he knew why he was uncomfortable with sex and while proving to himself that he could have sex without being a “baby” about it might, like, make him feel better about himself, he chose to do it in such a way that is eerily similar to the abuse he suffered as a child, despite the fact that he appeared to have other options—that very night, Dick had arranged for Cassidy to sleep with a freshman named Cindy. The other underlying motive that the show provides for the rape is Cassidy’s sexual trauma, which does not hold up for reasons I will address in entries #3 and #4. 

3. It enforces the “cycle of abuse” stereotype

The cycle of abuse is a psychological theory that states that victims of abuse are more likely to become abusers themselves later in life than those who have not experienced abuse. This theory is not supported by much evidence, and there is, in fact, evidence against it. Cathy Spatz Widom of John Jay College conducted a study in which “only 3 percent of the sexually abused boys had become adult sexual offenders, and only 4 percent of adult sexual offenders had a confirmed history of sexual abuse.” Despite the facts disproving the cycle of abuse as a psychological theory, it remains a common trope used to either a). make the audience sympathize with an abuser (as in the case of Billy Hargrove in Stranger Things) or b. vilify an abuse victim (as in the case of Cassidy Casablancas). This trope enforces the harmful notion that past abuse can serve as a valid reason for harming others and serves to justify the actions of abusers. 

4. It 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀!

Throughout season two, Cassidy is shown to be extremely uncomfortable in even remotely sexual situations. He finds himself unable to engage in any kind of sexual activity with Mac, which is understandable given his past trauma. What doesn’t track is that this same trauma is used to explain why he raped Veronica. The show presents Cassidy as uncomfortable at the prospect of sex with Mac, which he was only entertaining because he genuinely cared about her, but it also presents him as an unremorseful rapist who took advantage of a girl at a party for some unspecified reason, which… doesn’t fucking track. Make a goddamn choice in how you want to portray this character and his trauma—Has a childhood of sexual abuse made him sex-repulsed or has it made him a sexually abusive piece of shit? You can’t go down both roads. 

5. It’s clearly an attempt to make Cassidy seem more evil

It obviously took viewers some time to process the whole “Beaver’s a killer” thing because of Cassidy’s soft, sensitive nature. Given time, that plot twist can be broken down and understood: Cassidy was, first and foremost, a terrified, traumatized kid who felt like he had no other way out. His fear of what would happen if anyone found out about the abuse he suffered far outweighed any moral compass he may have possessed. Though Cassidy’s actions were objectively extremely fucked up, he did have his reasons, and they are easy to understand if you look at the situation from his point of view. The reveal of Cassidy as the rapist reads as someone in the writing room being worried that no one in the audience will believe that this smart, sweet kid could ever be truly unforgivable, and trying to amp up the sheer amount of evil in Cassidy’s actions by discarding a large part of his character and making him do the most awful thing they could think of. 

Anyway, Cassidy as the rapist makes no fucking sense, rest in peace my ace Cassidy headcanon… you still live in my head, but in kind a shitty apartment at the back of my brain and you are paying me rent because unlike canon murderer/rapist Cassidy you’re a respectful boy. 

[artificialqueens]

Control, 1/3 (Katya/Manila) - Dartmouth420

Summary: All it took as the deal went south was a split second, a single gunshot, and then the incredibly stupid, impulsive decision to grab all the coke the guy had on the table and run. Now Katya and Manila need to get rid of a dangerous, truly incriminating amount of cocaine as fast as possible, as they rocket towards rock-bottom in Katya’s 1997 Volvo hatchback. Lesbian AU heist tale, Katya/Manila main, past (plot-relevant) Rajila & Trixya.

A/N: It’s darker and sadder than the summary makes it out to be. This story was inspired by the request for Katya/Manila chaos a few weeks ago, and some Lana Del Rey songs, but it got unhinged and angsty so PLEASE heed the content warnings. but other than that enjoy :)

CW: codependent relationship, drug use, drug addiction, off-screen gun violence, smut, semi-clothed sex, strap-ons, past abusive relationships, angst, unreliable narrator

PS: addiction is a very complex issue, and not something to be taken lightly in real life.

Part 1:

She doesn’t mind I have a flat broke-down life

In fact she says she thinks it’s what she might like about me

Admires me, the way I roll like a rolling stone

-Lana Del Rey, ‘Off To The Races’

It’s the cocaine, obviously.

Katya knows the cocaine is what’s fuelling these decisions. It’s not her fault.

The knowledge hadn’t stopped her from accompanying Manila anyway, as what was supposed to be their deal on enough coke to fuel a big party this weekend had gone sour and scary, and the guy had reached behind him for the gun in his waistband. But Manila had been faster, she’d pulled her piece out of her purse and shot the guy in a sudden explosion of noise.

On the couch in the living room in Manila’s tiny apartment, Katya rubs some coke onto her gums, and presses her fingers to her temples in an attempt to calm herself. Manila paces back and forth in front of the coffee table while Katya tries not to think about the shock in the dealer’s eyes, and his tattooed arm grasping at the bullet wound in his shoulder as he fell back. Is he dead? Maybe. Maybe not.

There are seven single-kilogram bricks of cocaine, one torn open at the corner, sitting in front of them on the coffee table, among the coffee-stained mugs and crumpled McDonald’s bags and the cheap paperback sci-fi novels that Katya likes.

Manila paces with her phone out, and her leather jacket open. She turns on her heel on one end of the stained carpet and makes a call, bringing the phone to her ear.

“Heyyy,” says Manila, drawing out the word.

Someone on the other end shouts Bitch, how did you get this number?! and Manila scrambles, “No wait no, Trinity, hear me out-“

There’s an audible beep, and Manila glares at the phone, angry.

“Okay, okay,” repeats Manila to herself, pacing back and forth, “We can get this under control.”

All the pacing is making Manila’s short dress ride up her thighs, drawing Katya’s eyes. Manila’s legs are easily her best feature. Well, her curly black hair is nice, too. Katya watches her nervously. It isn’t that she’s afraid of her, no, Katya loves her girlfriend. Obviously.

But Manila did just shoot the guy back there.

Katya had shrieked, her hands flying to her mouth, gazing in horror at Manila’s blank, shocked expression. They’d stared at each other for a split second, and then, completely without thinking, Katya had rushed for the drugs that sat on the table next to the man groaning on the floor, shoving the bricks of coke into her purse, Manila had arrived at the table a second later, and they’d rushed out and leapt into Katya’s 1997 Volvo hatchback and sped off as shouts echoed from the abandoned warehouse.

Katya drove like a madwoman back to Manila’s apartment, her scabby knuckles bright white on the steering wheel while in the passenger’s seat next to her Manila dragged in big gulps of air, trembling.

So, yeah. Here they are. Katya had known that Manila had a gun in her purse, just in case, but she hadn’t thought it would… well, come out. Of the purse.

“We need to sell it quick,” says Katya, keeping her voice as calm as possible, despite her rapidly beating heart. In the thrill of panic they’d broken into one of the bricks and done some lines, and were now both a bit twitchy. “We can’t- we can’t sit on this much. Fuck it’s so much money, I could really use it-”

“I know, me too,” replies Manila, taking her phone back out and scrolling. Her movements are rapid, nervous.

Katya glares down at the table, willing her whirring mind to think, and suddenly she misses Trixie. The breakup had been terrible, Katya had yelled and cried and threatened and begged Trixie to stay, but it was well over eight months ago and Katya should be over it. She isn’t. It’s like Trixie took her heart out of her chest when she left, and is still carrying it around with her. Katya has known Manila for a lot longer, from even before she met Trixie, and in the aftermath Manila was well, single (sort of) and there.

Katya has always been incapable of making good decisions. Even alright decisions. But she’s been trying to talk to Trixie again. It’s been going well. She hopes they’ll be back together by the end of the year.

Manila taps her phone, and then hits speaker, and the sound of it ringing echoes around her small apartment. Katya watches her. Manila paces, holding the phone out in her hand.

“Hello?” comes a deep, familiar voice.

“Latrice!” enthuses Manila, all smiles and joviality, “Hey girl, long time no chat!”

“Uh-huh, same to you, what’ve you got going on?”

The mild skepticism in Latrice’s voice is as well-hidden as Manila’s own manic edge. But maybe Latrice would be interested, and she’d buy a chunk of their sudden supply. Katya fidgets on the couch, reaching out and sinking her fingers into one of Manila’s old throw-pillows, the one with the fading print of Bettie Page posing with a whip.

“I’ve got, uh,” says Manila, speaking like she’s consciously trying to slow herself down, still pacing, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “I’ve got something you might like to buy.”

“Oh? And what might that be?”

“Ah, just a little something for a good time.”

“How much have you got?”

Latrice’s voice remains cautious-friendly, and Katya gets her hopes up for a second. Latrice is a local club owner, large-and-in-charge, friendly and easy-going, and primarily a legitimate business woman. But she sometimes dabbles in other kinds of purchases. Like they all do.

“Yeah, uh, a little more than I thought…” says Manila smoothly, with a chuckle, like it’s all a big joke. “Seven kilos.”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“Latrice?”

“I’m still here,” replies Latrice, but her tone is now suspicious, reticent.

“Mm,” says Manila, nodding to herself, “Okay, so you’re interested? Think you want to buy a brick? Or two?”

“Two kilos? Girl.”

“Don’t say it like that, you know how these things happen,” says Manila rapidly, trying to smooth it over.

“Seven kilos of coke doesn’t just happen, Manila.”

“Look we need to sell it fast-“

“You always need something, don’t you.“ Latrice’s tone is unimpressed, annoyed. "How many favours have I done for you over the years, and how many times have you disappeared when I needed you to have my back? See this is your problem-“ They’d all been good friends once, recalls Katya. Champagne and glitter and birthdays and club music and VIP lounges. Perhaps not so much anymore. “I don’t even want to know, I’m not getting involved-“

“Just let me expl- no- don’t you dare hang up on me!”

There’s a beep and the call drops.

Katya stands up, and walks the short few steps to the kitchen, chewing at her lip. Her gums are going numb. Who does she know that could buy this amount of stolen cocaine and very, very fast? She scrolls through her mental list of contacts and stares at the counter, at the crumbs brushed to the backstop.

“Well that sucks, why am I the one calling everybody-” mutters Manila from the living room, and then says louder, “Okay, okay, this isn’t a big deal. We’ve got choices, we’ve got options.”

Manila paces the living room again, tapping at her lips with her finger.

“What if we parcel it out and sell it at the club tonight?” suggests Katya, wriggling her hips as she bends over to look in the fridge, before glancing over her shoulder to see if Manila’s eyeing her ass in her jeans or not. Coke always makes her a little horny, which used to make Trixie unsettled. But Manila likes that about her.

Manila pauses in her pacing, watching Katya’s ass, and a little thrill shoots down Katya’s spine. There isn’t anything of interest in the fridge. Some carrot sticks, old milk, leftover pizza. Slimy spinach from Katya’s attempt to get something green into them both last week. Behind her, there’s a snort as Manila does another bump.

“Maybe- no, the first place they’ll check is the clubs and they’ll probably recognize us, but if we could get someone else to sell for us-“

Katya looks back at her, arching her back with a giggle and wiggling her ass. Her heart is soaring, she can’t help smiling, and there’s a manic edge underneath it. Her gums are numb, and her throat is tingling.

Something changes in Manila’s eyes and a smile spreads across her face.

Manila always makes Katya feel good, of course, but it’s a different kind of good than she’d had with Trixie. Trixie, with her big hair, her flannel shirts in the morning over her those little pink nightdresses, her dry humour. The way she didn’t always realize when she was being funny. Her observations. She used to make up silly songs for Katya, strumming away on her guitar while they sat on the balcony and Katya smiled and laughed and spilled her coffee, kicking her feet with how happy she was.

But Trixie had been able to walk away from it all because she had a goal. Katya and Manila haven’t had real goals in years.

Manila walks the short distance from the living room to the kitchen, eyes on Katya’s ass, hunger on her face. There’s an impulsive, high thrill in the air, that might be from the coke or the crime or both. Katya straightens, shutting the fridge.

Manila grasps her waist from behind, pushing Katya against the fridge and murmuring in her ear, “Gotcha, baby.”

Katya cackles and smiles and pushes her bony ass back into Manila’s body. But she likes it, the way that Manila manhandles her sometimes. It’s thrilling. She’s always had a thing for tall femme chicks with an aggressive streak. Trixie used to do the same thing, playful, until she started refusing to touch her at all.

Manila takes Katya’s upper arms and turns her around, bringing them both from the fridge to push Katya back against the counter and kiss her. Now this is going exactly where Katya wanted it to go, and it’s messy and frantic and maybe they’re both a lot high and a little scared. Lips meet teeth and tongues mingle, delicious.

“Get up on the counter,” orders Manila, breaking the kiss, and Katya obeys, hopping up with the help of her hands. She wraps her legs around Manila’s hips and they make out some more, Manila running her hands up Katya’s muscular back under her T-shirt, and Katya’s heart beats a little faster.

Katya tries her luck sneaking her hand between them and feeling up one of Manila’s not-particularly-impressive tits. Anyone involved with Trixie Mattel, even for a brief period of time, is ruined for all other breasts afterwards.

Manila bites Katya’s bottom lip in response, and the brief shot of pain goes straight to her pussy. Katya whines, and Manila goes from her lips to her neck, sucking the sensitive spot right below Katya’s jaw, and then she pulls back, hands fumbling on the button and fly of Katya’s jeans.

“Are they building jeans more complicated all of a sudden?” mutters Manila impatiently to herself as she works Katya’s fly open and Katya laughs, lifting herself up on her hands like the athlete she is- correction, once was, as Manila finally manages to get the fly down and pulls her jeans and underwear down to her knees.

Sitting back down ass naked on the counter is hilarious and Katya giggles, and then there’s the matter of working the jeans down to her ankles while Manila returns to Katya’s neck with a vengeance, kissing and sucking, and generally sending tingles up and down her spine. Manila roughly shoves Katya’s legs apart and drops to her knees.

And now it’s time for the best part and it’s the best part because, simply put, Manila might not be very smart (Trixie’s smarter than her despite her endless dumb blonde jokes) but Manila’s really fucking good at eating pussy.

Any dyke in Boston will tell you if you ask.

So Katya lets out this strangled gasp as Manila goes in with that fantastic mouth of hers, and Katya tangles her hands in that black curly hair and shivers and whines and tries to open her legs as wide as humanly possible without falling off the counter.

“Yes, god yes, ha, fuck-“ babbles Katya, caught up between gasps of laughter. She’s always been expressive.

The pressure builds as Katya rocks her hips, and Manila pushes fingers inside her and flicks her tongue over her clit in that way that makes Katya’s eyes roll back. Her head falls back and smacks against the cupboard behind her, and Katya throws one hand back to catch herself, scrambling to stay upright, as Manila holds her legs steady, in charge.

“Ow! Uh no, not you- oh fuck yes-”

It feels so good, it’s like a rollercoaster, building building building. Manila does that thing with her tongue again, glancing up to meet Katya’s eyes for a second, and Katya sees stars.

Two or three orgasms later, Manila stands up and leaves Katya gasping through the aftermath of the last one on her own. Wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist, Manila leans in and captures Katya’s lips in a brief kiss.

“You want your turn?” says Katya, as her breath returns to normal. She hops off the counter, brushes the crumbs off her ass and pulls her underwear back up but doesn’t bother with her jeans yet, stepping out of them.

Manila nods. Manila’s turn is usually after Katya’s unless it’s one of those rare nights where Katya doesn’t want anything, doesn’t want to be touched at all, which happens sometimes. Trixie was always understanding, she was so loving, so patient. Manila is less so. But Katya has a lot less patience for her, too.

“Meet you in the bedroom,” says Manila, grabbing a lipstick-stained glass from the pile of dishes by the sink and filling it from the tap. To wash out the taste of pussy, Katya presumes.

Katya picks up her jeans and heads to the bathroom, pausing at the coffee table to cut out another line of blow and put it up her nose, while Manila does the same, except her trajectory is to the bedroom. As Katya washes her hands she stares into the mirror. Dark circles under her manic hazel eyes. Dryish lips. A weird pimple on her jaw that came out of nowhere. Straw-blonde hair up in a greasy top-knot. White T-shirt with Bob Ross on the front. But she’s wearing her favourite earrings, the ones that are dangly little plastic hands. Heh. Katya manages a smile. Those earrings always make her smile.

But what the fuck are they going to do with all that cocaine-

No time for that now, Katya breaks eye contact with herself and dries her hands, because it’s time to fuck Manila and fucking Manila is always an event.

In the bedroom, Manila has taken off her leather jacket but not her dress, and holds her phone in one hand, glaring down at it. She’s pushing forty but she still looks good and for a moment Katya just admires her figure in that short black lace nude illusion dress that hilariously doesn’t match her skin tone, and those long, fantastic legs.

They make eye contact across the room.

“Fuck me.”

It’s an order. Manila is always in control.

Katya crosses the room, leaning in to initiate the kiss. Softer this time, as Katya touches the back of Manila’s neck, and moves her bare legs against Manila’s own and eventually drops her hands down to grip her ass.

They stumble to the bed, and it only takes a quick confirmation for Katya to know what Manila wants. Katya’s on top of her, pressing her arms down, and pushing her thigh between Manila’s legs so she can grind on it. They furiously make out even as Katya’s gut is tightening, is reminding her, hey, you just saw this woman shoot a man-

As Manila’s breath gets heavier, Katya ignores the doubt and sits up and gets off the bed. Manila turns over, and slides herself back so that she’s bent over the edge of the bed, taking in a breath of anticipation. Her dress is riding up, and Katya can see the crotch of Manila’s plain blue cotton underwear. It’s damp.

Katya steps back and digs under the bed for her harness and strap-on, the one that she’s taken to leaving here. Hurriedly, Katya does up the leather harness and puts the dildo in place. It’s purple. Trixie used to wear it, and Katya would get on top and ride it enthusiastically, expressive, words of love and lust tumbling from her while Trixie gripped her thighs and smiled and fucked it up into her, her blonde hair splayed out on the mattress like a halo- Katya clicks it on to vibrate, angles it so that the end rests against her clit through her underwear and then gets down on her knees.

Manila props herself up on her elbows, and peers over her shoulder at Katya, her dark eyes intense and expecting. She licks her lips. It sends a jolt down Katya’s spine.

“Are you wet for me?” asks Katya in a filthy, half-joking tone.

“Why don’t you find out?’ replies Manila.

Katya decisively pushes Manila’s dress up to her waist and pulls her underwear down, and grabs her ass cheeks, squeezing, before running her knuckles across Manila’s pussy, to check. Manila sighs, and shuts her eyes. Katya isn’t sure who Manila’s imagining behind those eyelids, and she doesn’t ask. When Katya shuts her eyes it’s always Trixie.

On her lower back, Manila has a tramp stamp of the gemini symbol with a stylized little tail on the end. It’s ridiculous because as Katya knows well, Manila’s birthday is in October. Manila was getting it covered, redesigned into a monarch butterfly, but it’s half-done so only one side of it hosts a delicate orange wing.

She ran out of money for the other half.

Katya takes a moment to slips fingers into Manila and to stroke her clit and make sure she’s really ready, until Manila practically growls and looks back at her, widening her legs. She hates being teased. Well whatever, Katya’s not going to say no to fucking the pussy before her so she lubes up the gently vibrating strap-on, lines up and, because she’s a softie, slides it in gently, taking care.

She knows Manila doesn’t want her to take care, Manila wants her to slam it in and fuck her like she means it, but Katya learned to take care from Trixie and now she can’t (or won’t) unlearn it. Manila gasps, gripping the tangled, dirty sheets.

Katya snaps her hips forward, filling Manila and thrusting repeatedly, her hands on Manila’s hips, pressing her fingers into the crease where they’re bent.

Manila moans and curses, and Katya sets a good rhythm, because she knows it won’t take long. Manila pushes her ass back against Katya, and the sudden shift in movement makes Katya almost lose her balance again, arm reeling out to the side as she falls back on her heels, the strap-on sliding unceremoniously out of Manila.

“Oops,“ laughs Katya.

“Did you just fall?” says Manila glancing back at her, amused.

Katya giggles and Manila chuckles too, and maybe there’s a moment of love between them, for a split second. Katya gets back up and strokes the curve of Manila’s hip, then grabs it and fucks her hard, and Manila releases a passionate moan. The opposite end of the dildo rubs against Katya, and it feels nice, not enough to make her come again, but-

It’s all over fairly quickly, and as Manila arches her back and curses her way to a messy, satisfying finish.

And then there’s all the post-sex rituals to go though; Manila sitting up, slightly dazed, and pulling her dress down and wandering over to the bathroom. Katya unbuckling the harness, and listening to the water run. Manila returns for fresh underwear from the clean laundry basket by the bed that she hasn’t bothered to fold or put away, and then Katya goes to the bathroom to clean the dildo and comes back and tosses it back into the plastic bin under the bed with the harness, and the problem they’re faced with washes back over them.

They kiss briefly for the look of the thing, just because they’re supposed to afterwards or whatever, but maybe there’s some affection in it. Katya puts her jeans back on and then the fun’s over.

“Okay,” says Manila, pacing her bedroom as Katya sits cross-legged on the end of the bed, slumped, “Okay, who do we know?”

“Adore?”

“Amateur hour, no.”

“Violet?”

“She deals E and molly, she won’t touch coke.”

“Crystal?”

“Methyd? It’s in her fucking name, Katya-”

“Bob?”

“Moved to New York last I heard-“

“Alaska?”

“What? No. Fuck, I can’t believe Latrice is still mad at me-”

Katya’s list is over. Katya stares at the ugly carpet, and watches Manila pace. There’s another option that Katya hasn’t had the guts to bring up, until now.

“Your ex,” says Katya. Manila won’t stand to hear her name spoken aloud. It’s a ridiculous habit that Katya barely has the patience for.

“No-“

“She’s the only one with the buying capacity for this.”

“We’re not going to her.”

Katya throws up her hands, “If we sell this amount to anyone in the city she’ll know about it anyway!”

Manila stares at the dusty window.

“It’s not-“ begins Katya, and the hair stands up on the back of her neck and she releases a nervous giggle as the horrible possibility occurs to her, pointing to the bricks of cocaine on Manila’s coffee table in the other room, “That’s not hers, is it?”

“No,” says Manila abruptly, worry lining her face for a second, turning back to Katya, “No way, those weren’t her guys, she doesn’t hire guys like that. Those guys were fucking idiots. Besides, they'd’ve been ta-”

Katya breathes a sigh of relief, and Manila cuts herself off. There are two major gangs that run Boston’s underbelly, that bring in drugs and keep the crime organized. Katya’s on good terms with the north side guys, she knows a couple of them from way back and they don’t bother her. She works for them occasionally, when she’s gonna be short on rent. But Manila’s ex runs the other gang, and she’s powerful and dangerous.

The Gemini is not to be fucked with.

“Wait!” exclaims Manila, her eyes going wide and expressive for a moment, “What about your friend- your friend, what’s her name…?” Manila snaps her fingers frantically, as if to jog her memory.

Katya just looks at her, skeptical.

“Uh, uh,” says Manila, still snapping. “You know her, uh, she’s Laotian, short, great ass-“

“Jujubee?” says Katya, in complete disbelief.

“Yes!” says Manila, triumphantly. “Her.”

“No,” replies Katya, mouth twisting, “She’s not involved anymore, she said she’s getting sober and getting out-“

“Yeah whatever, everyone says they’re ‘getting sober and getting out.’ You said that.”

The words hurt. Katya looks down, drawing in a breath, the shame crushing her for a moment. Manila indulges all of Katya’s worst sides. Manila parties hard, she disappears and re-appears with new and better stories every time, she’s doesn’t get sad, she never gets tired, she encourages, she enables, she’s always in control, and it’s so, so hard to let go of her. Even when Trixie had given Katya the ultimatum.

Especially when Trixie had given her the ultimatum.

“Fuck,” says Katya, standing up and stalking back into the living room. “Fine, you wanna go hassle a dead end, whatever-“

“She’s not gonna be a dead end,” argues Manila, shrugging her leather jacket back on and following Katya, “I bet she still knows people who’ll buy. We have to shift at least some of this shit and quick, and maybe she’ll take it. We sell it to her on the cheap, she’s happy, we’re happy. Who cares what she does with it?”

Manila’s cynicism is so oddly pragmatic, so heavy. It’s crushing even Katya’s own cynicism, which is a weary weight to drag around. But it’s so hard for Katya to say no to Manila, saying no to Manila always comes with caveats.

“Fine,” agrees Katya, grinding her teeth, taking her phone out and firing off a quick text to Jujubee.

“Great,” replies Manila, and walks over to pick up the duffel bag next to the table, and begins shoving the neatly wrapped bricks of cocaine into it. She dumps some of the opened-up brick into a loose little ziplock baggie for easy access, rubs a bit on her gums, then puts the baggie into the duffel bag too.

There’s a sudden leak of noise as a car goes by outside, blasting music loud enough that Katya can hear the lyrics drift up into the apartment.

“Loving you forever can’t be wrong, even though you’re not here won’t move on-“

As quickly as the song arrives, it fades. Katya picks up her car keys, and wonders what Trixie’s up to right about now.

[mottephobia-imagines]

Ikemen Sengoku Mafia!AU (Oda Forces)

In case y’all didn’t know I also write for Otome (both Voltage and Cybird)

—

Oda Nobunaga: the leader

Absolutely a leader of a yakuza- and a good one at that too

(Assuming this takes place in modern day japan) runs one of the biggest Yakuza factions

On the outside though, he’s a very successful heir to a large, multimillion company (think Eisuke Ichinomiya from KBTBB I mean they’re practically the same person cmon)

Due to his seemingly inconspicuous ‘day job’ and charming personality making him very popular to the public eye, no one suspects him of being involved in any organized crime, so he’s able to operate very smoothly under the radar

Of course, he has spies every where- including in the government and police force so his tracks are very covered

Aims to take political power at some point and have his faction be the dominant faction (eliminating all possible rivals)

His biggest one being his enemy Kenshin Uesugi’s faction, who takes any and every opportunity they can to get under his nerves constantly lmao

Nobunaga and Kenshin have never seen each other face to face (if they did it’d be a blood bath), but still have an unspoken respect for each other as much as they hate each other lmao

The rivalry between their two families has lasted generations- now that it’s their turn, Nobunaga is determined to end it with the last laugh

Nobunaga’s still the same arrogant, cocky bastard he is, but 100x worse (as with modern technology)

Grew up with a very traditional family who were samurais in the past, so he’s had a lot of training in swordsmanship and martial arts

Always keeps a pistol in his jacket pocket and wears a bulletproof vest 90% of the time

(He’s not that good with guns tho)

On his desk there’s probably a little plateful of candies, and his fridge is also stocked with sweet things (it’s a wonder how he doesn’t have diabetes yet)

Also has a pocketful of tiny candies to last him throughout the day (much to Hideyoshi’s dismay)

Also, slicked back hair, suited up Nobunaga with a sleeve tattoo (he’d have to try really hard to keep his sleeve tattoo hidden but still just imagine)

Hideyoshi Toyotomi: the bodyguard

Hideyoshi is Nobunaga’s most trusted confidant, who also serves as his bodyguard

Wherever Nobunaga goes, Hideyoshi follows suit

More often than not the voice of reason

Always trusts his gut and is always skeptical of new members (or just people in general why won’t you trust me dammit)

He came from a poor family of farmers in the countryside, and when they couldn’t take care of him anymore they abandoned him

He was a thief for a little while, until Nobunaga’s dad took him in and raised him as his own

Hideyoshi deems this a debt he has to pay, and him helping Nobunaga and keeping him straight will repay the family’s kindness

He’s always the one to direct less major missions and cleans up the messes

Frequently in contact with Mistuhide, and he hates the guy (more like annoyed tbh)

He’s basically Nobunaga’s messenger lmao

And mother older brother figure, he frequently stops Nobunaga from rampaging over something insignificant and keeps him from being unhealthy by taking away his candies sometimes

Is better skilled with a gun, and thus carries not one, but two (those like shoulder straps for guns under his suit type of thing)

He goes undercover from time to time, although it’s not his specialty- he’s kind of a jack of all trades kinda guy

He’s really good at sussing out the spies and traitors, because he listens to his gut and it’s almost always right

Will do anything and everything to help Nobunaga succeed, even if it means killing anyone who stands in the way

Date Masamune: the affiliate

Masamune is actually the leader of another yakuza faction, but since it was so weak at the time he took the opportunity to pair up with Nobunaga

His faction deals more with drugs and weapons, smuggling them over borders and getting them out and in of the country

That being said, most of his deals take place at exclusive bars and clubs- where the richest of the rich gather

He’s a pretty laid-back guy for someone who runs a drug syndicate- he doesn’t really care how things get done as long as they get done somehow

Also pretty goofy- when people first meet him, they’d think that there was no way he was in the yakuza

Even though the sleeve tattoos and the eyepatch probably should’ve been enough for them to know

And the massive amount of jewelry, too- Masamune isn’t shy about his wealth like at all

He’s totally the type to wear those bigass rings, complete with sapphires on them just to show off a little more

He loves to piss off Nobunaga, he loves for it

Ieyasu tells him that it might get him killed (low key a worried bb) but Masamune knows Nobunaga isn’t gonna get rid of him anytime soon; due to the fact that Masamune’s faction gives a shit ton of money

Him and Ieyasu tolerate get along pretty well, although the latter may deny it

Out of all of them, he’s probably the strongest and most skilled combat-wise; he’s adept in martial arts, knives and blades, as well as having an extensive knowledge on firearms and even bombs and how to use them

Honestly, he’s with Nobunaga just for the power boost- ones his faction gets enough power, he’s gonna dip then come back and be like ‘sike u thought’

Masamune has the same aspiration as both Nobunaga and Kenshin, but knows he can’t fight them both at the same time. So why not let the two battle it out then fight the winner?

Akechi Mistuhide: the spy

Aka the rat

Mistuhide is a double agent working for Nobunaga, on his own terms

He’s a spy within the government’s police force, and nobody has caught him yet

Tells Nobunaga about any upcoming busts and when and where they’re gonna go, who they’re going to investigate and go after, basically all information on cases that may affect him

Very good at hiding his tracks- it’s almost impossible to get this guy

Also very good at swaying his coworkers and even bosses- tells them whether or not to pursue a case or person, acknowledge evidence, and even do something for him

He started out as an assassin for hire before becoming an informant for Nobunaga, which is the foundation for the distrust Hideyoshi has on him

Coupled with the fact that he’s easily a manipulative and cunning bastard, you’ve got someone who is a valuable asset but you can’t help but wonder when he’ll turn his back on you

He’s actually the son of a very rich man who had many wives and concubines; growing up, his father’s other wives would try to kill him using any tactic they could, so he developed quickly some skills that children shouldn’t have learned

He knows when food and drinks are poisoned, when someone is trying to ambush you, and when someone is lying- and this was before any formal training for an assassin

Because of his talent with blades and smaller guns, he’s the one Nobunaga sends out most of the time to kill someone and make it seem like an accident

Teams up with Masamune to annoy Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, and Ieyasu (sometimes)

He once went undercover with Hideyoshi- the teasing was unfiltered and hard. Hideyoshi kept yelling at him to please stop, we have a fuckinh mission to do and you making me flustered will not make this any less difficult.

He honestly just lives to see people annoyed/embarrassed lmao

Used to tease Ieyasu a lot before Masamune came and essentially replaced him

Mitsuhide’s reasons for joining Nobunaga’s faction still remains a mystery, and he’d like to keep it that way

Tokugawa Ieyasu: the doctor

Why is there no yellow

The underground doctor who works for Nobunaga, Ieyasu has plenty of knowledge and experience despite his young age

At first, you’d think he isn’t a doctor at all- he‘s rough, not exactly friendly, and easily irritated; which is exactly what makes him so good at his job

As an underground doctor, Ieyasu’s primary job is to salvage whatever unfortunate soul had been injured at the time- sometimes, it’d be much, much more than one person

He can’t afford to let his emotions get to him and slow him down, so he’s learned to repress his emotions and completely focus on his job instead

Also, he can’t be like a traditional doctor because he’s dealing with criminals here- and with his pretty face, not everyone’s gonna take him seriously if he offers the usual caring doctor attitude

Ieyasu grew up in a wealthy family before being kidnapped and sold in the black market as a child, abused within the system and eventually ended up in an old doctor’s hands

The old doctor would basically take him on as an apprentice and told him all his medical knowledge, urging him to follow in his footsteps before he died

When the doctor did die, Ieyasu continued his medical studies and attended several schools and universities before going off the grid completely

Years later he was found in a back alley market (think the black market from beastars) by non other than Nobunaga, who he saved from some thugs (or at least tried to)

Because of his work as a doctor, he often forgets to really take a rest and goes days without sleeping and living off spicy ramen noodles

It’s gotten so bad at one point that Masamune (who buys the noodles for him regularly) actually confiscated all of them and demanded Ieyasu be given a day off (he can’t have tease him if he’s dead!)

Speaking of Masamune, they met after the ‘eyepatch wearing idiot’ came into his clinic after a particularly grueling gun fight with the police

He’s kind of thankful for Masamune- Ieyasu would still have to deal with Mitsuhide and that guy gets on his nerves the quickest, if Masamune didn’t take his spot lmao

He has a little pet porcupine at home, and he sometimes sticks him in the chest pocket of his doctor’s coat whenever he knows he’s gonna spend days at his clinic

Don’t let his pretty looks fool you; mans learned many combat skills from Masamune including how to absolutely murder people with guns

Ishida Mitsunari: the hacker

From how sweet and kind he looks he definitely does not look like part of the Yakuza

Like, he looks like he belongs in a classroom teaching kids, not in a computer room hacking government files

Extremely skilled hacker- he can get any information from anywhere and leave no trace

Is the main source of information for Nobunaga

Mitsunari was the son of a college professor, and spent most of his time reading in the school library when his father took him to his lectures

Pretty soon he found himself loving computers and tinkering with them, eventually leading to him hacking some minor websites

Fat forward a couple of years and his curious nature doesn’t stop, leading to him discovering some secret files/tapes of Nobunaga’s faction

He left a clear enough trace that he was easily tracked down and almost killed; however, Nobunaga saw some potential in him and decided to give him a choice between dying or joining them (not much of a choice there buddy)

He joined in his late teens, so he’s never really experienced what life was like (thanks Nobunaga)

Nonetheless, he’s actually pretty terrifying when he’s angry

With his demeanor, you’d think he wouldn’t have a mean bone in his body- wrong

Being in the yakuza at a young age, he’s seen some shit and learned some shit- and he’s even tried some of them

Many people have spited him, thinking he’s a doormat

Mitsunari does not let that fly

People underestimate how much he can ruin their lives through the computer screen- financial ruin, a hard hit to reputations, etc

He rarely if ever does that though, most of the time he’d just brush it off and continue what he’s doing (unless it escalates then you’re fucked lmao Mitsudarki come thru)

Mitsunari’s really good with kids, so often times the higher ups or other members leave their kids or pets with him because even if he is booked for work, he still takes stellar care of them

Gets teased by Mitsuhide often, but doesn’t get what he’s saying most of the time

Is heavily opposed to killing- he’d much rather talk it through with someone or ruin their life rather than taking it

—

Uggghhhhh this took so long but I love these little shits so it was worth it 😤😤 they’re so pretty wth-

[overdrivels]

TWtaH Notes

I’m finally free. It took three years and nearly 150k words, but I’m finally done. I can’t believe it. 

It started off as a simple idea and a simple premise: a chef!reader who, while knife sharpening, catches Hanzo’s attention. It then evolved into a full-fledged fic with a plot and plot twists. Originally, it was supposed to be around 10 chapters long, but then it grew out of control over the years as I tried to figure out how to end what I started. 

In addition to being a redemption fic, this was also an information dump fic. Since this is the very first slowburn I have ever finished and I have the feeling I won’t have much opportunity to do the same ever again--I don’t think any other fandom would give me the ability to showcase all these tidbits like Overwatch does--I literally threw as much knowledge as I could reasonably incorporate as possible.

About plot changes:

Most of the original plot points survived the writing process, some minor ones didn’t for plot related reasons, so this surprisingly went better than I thought it would. 

There was supposed to be another scene where Chef faced off against Reaper in chapter 20 or so, but upon reassessing Reaper’s character, I decided he wouldn’t do that, especially not against civilians or put himself in harm’s way just to say something to Chef. He wouldn’t even say anything to his family in the comics, what makes anyone think he’d do anything to someone he had even less of a personal relationship with?

There were supposed to be more scenes about Chef’s fencing, but I couldn’t fit it in and it ended up being a one-trick pony plot device. It wasn’t supposed to be that way, but that’s how it turned out. There was supposed to be a scene where Chef fights back against Talon during their infiltration of the Watchpoint.

There were points where Hanzo himself talked his way out of situations and forced me to change the plot. In the kitchen when he first meets Chef face-to-face, he wasn’t supposed to get the chef to forgive him which is the biggest plot deviation I’ve had and it forced me to reconsider large sections of the story. Honestly, I think it’s for the better though because I was really at a loss as to how to progress the original plot under those conditions.

I also wanted to emphasize that when Chef left, there was increased tension between the members. There was little commonality joining them all together except for the fact they all needed to eat. In order for some parties to work, you have to have your support characters, and in that case, it’d be Chef. But I seem to have bumbled through that bit and made it less impactful so if I ever got a chance to rewrite this, I’d probably stress this bit more.

Symmetra was supposed to have a much bigger role in this, somehow she fell to the wayside with that one plot change in the kitchen I mentioned before. On the flipside, Ana and McCree got a way bigger role than expected. 

One of the biggest plot changes was Hanzo hating peppers. Originally he was supposed to hate onions but I thought there was way too much onion in Japanese cuisine to omit them, so I thought of something that would seem more ‘childish’.

To be fair, I also don’t really like peppers all that much either. But I sure as hell love onions.

The proposal with the miso soup at the end, the plot twist where the chefs are the real treasure, and some other minor details have been there since the beginning of the idea’s conception. Things like Reaper trading Overwatch’s life for the tamale, the name of the restaurant, and Hanzo’s fight with Genji only came after the fic was being written. 

Real life:

Covid really took its toll on me since a lot of this fic revolved around food, tasting it, experiencing it, making it, etc. I lost a good portion of my taste and smell, and it’s not back 100% even months later, so a lot of what I begin to describe after a certain point is just based on memory. If a pre-pandemic world, I would have been running around the city, sampling foods and writing down my impressions, but with things as they were, it didn’t pan out that way.

I tried to stuff as many of my favorite foods (and not so favorite foods) here as much as possible. There were a lot of foods I omitted because there’s only so much I could fit in here. A companion compilation fic of the Overwatch characters eating their favorite foods or just eating food in general made by Chef sounds really appealing right now.

May, June, and July made me really want to expand the story and include things in the fic that would turn it ‘problematic’ or at least morally ambiguous. If I did that, this fic would never be finished. 

Characterization and development:

Junkrat and Roadhog are much more docile in this story than I would have headcanoned them simply because food security is life-changing. I really liked the idea of Roadhog using his farming skills and being less homicidal with the right environment. They both know food is sacred. 

Argus 20 is in reference to Argus Panoptes, the all-seeing many eyed giant from greek mythology. The 20 comes from “hindsight is 20-20” (but now 2020 has a very different connotation and I’m thinking it’s pretty fitting). The reason for this is because she oversaw a lot of what was happening especially in the front of house. It’s not mentioned in the story, but she oversaw things like purchasing the restaurant, setting up the dummy accounts, organizing and obfuscating the donations, etc.

In case there was any confusion, ‘Tanuja Deshmukh Singh’ is Asim’s deadname. When he left Overwatch and became Asim Singh, his family disowned him. He was then free to live as himself, but he never discarded his last name because he still wanted to be connected to his family in some vague way no matter how much they disliked or denied his existence.

Head Chef Richard has been in jail. His backstory is basically after firing his staff to protect them from the fall out, he basically told the press he fired them for insubordination and took the fall for the kitchens and got quietly arrested. He was sent to the same prison that Chef would end up at. He’s not a very honest man, I don’t think, but he’s a character who was molded by the story and its needs rather than being a pre-established OC. 

I kind of wanted to write the fic in a way where Argus and Asim weren’t bad guys but people who were forced to make difficult decisions because of the position they were put in by Chef and by Talon. Cause, you know, sometimes you do things to hurt people without realizing it.

I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to push another ship in the background. If you see hints of different pairings here and there, you may be seeing it right because I kept flip-flopping between chapters as to whether I wanted to or not, and if I decided I did, I kept changing the pairings.

Hanzo. Where do I even start with this guy? I had a really tough time trying to stick to one interpretation of his character. I kept reading other fics and going, “Yeah. Yeah! I want that!” But then it just became a huge mish-mash of characterizations until I wasn’t sure who he was anymore. But I clung onto the thought of “he’s the first son of an Asian household dealing with his spoiled brother” to help get me through it. It reminds me of that tweet that goes, “You think you can hurt me? I’m the eldest daughter in an asian family.” It was so relatable. Channeling eldest sibling in asian family vibes. 

Chef. It was so hard. It was so damn hard writing a faceless character for so many words. I can usually do it in a one-shot because I can get away with not mentioning stuff, but in a slowburn?? It’s so difficult. Multiple times I had to stop myself or revise things because there were characters talking about Chef and I didn’t want to make the dialogue unnatural by saying ‘chef’ ‘chef’ over and over again. There were other moments like Soldier carrying Chef out of the Cellar and I was like: “What if the reader is taller than Soldier?!” It was a struggle. The other struggle was characterization. There were so many in-story stressful moments that I wanted Chef to start crying at but the timing of it was so frequent that I had to nix most of them or risk making Chef unrelatable. 

lol i’ve made several pseudo-cameos in the story because I’m shameless. 

Miscellaneous:

Man, my style changed so many times throughout the story. At some point I ended up writing outlines made solely of dialogue and wrote the story around it. It was oddly distressing when I realized my words wouldn’t come out like they used to.  

This fic has seen me through a ridiculous amount of crap. I kind of wished I kept a journal or something because these past three years have been nuts. 

After this, I’ll probably retire from writing Overwatch and then go into my usual writing hibernation that spans about 4 years before I reemerge with an unquenchable thirst for something stupid. 

In my nearly 20 years of writing fanfic, this is the first slowburn I’ve ever completed. To be fair, the last time I even tried was like...over 10 years ago when mediaminer was still a thing and didn’t ban CYOAs.

This was also the longest single fic I’ve ever written. I have wirtten 200k in a year before but never for any single thing.

God, this was hard. I partially did it to prove that you don’t need to use placeholders like ‘Y/N’ and stuff like that and it was possible to write a slowburn with gender neutral stuff, but I had to cheat a bit. But it’s done. 

I’ve worked in the restaurant business for a few years but not as a chef. It wasn’t even high-end either. I wanted to talk about the work conditions because it’s pretty tough in the kitchens and the amount of drugs and vices people turn to and the conditions in which people come to work is nuts. 

I wanted to cover a lot of controversial topics to see if I could but it just didn’t fit in the story. I wanted to tap into things like social justice, racism, prejudices, political landscapes, and so on. Even within Overwatch, I’d imagine there’s a lot of tensions stemming from just basic ideologies. I wanted to see if I could write about both (or more) sides of challenging arguments and still remove the author’s opinions from the story, but I’d imagine that’ll bring its own complications. Last thing I wanted was to start a fight in the comments or something.

I almost made the crew travel to Asia with implications of a changed geo-political sphere from today. Like...the status of Taiwan would’ve been interesting to touch upon, but I didn’t feel like I had the knowledge to expand on it enough.

Almost every waking of my life, I have thought or worked on this fic. During meetings, during conferences, during client calls, while I’m on public transportation, in different countries. I don’t know what to do with myself now.

Anyway, if you have any questions or anything or just want to shout at me, inbox is open.. For now I’m just going to lament over the fact that Genshin Impact gives me motion sickness and I can’t play despite working so hard to roll Mona.

[wickedmilo]

ASK ME ANYTHING | MILO & HARSH

PLACE: Harsh’s apartment TIMING: A couple of months before ‘Sweet Summer Child’ SUMMARY: Milo begrudgingly accepts the fact that if you don’t know, sometimes you just have to ask WRITING PARTNER: @notsoharsh CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of overdosing, needles, and drug abuse

Milo stared down at his notebook, his hasty, and cluttered handwriting making it difficult to spot any spelling mistakes or inconsistencies. Not that it would matter, really. He had no plan on actually letting Harsh see his work. But it felt important to appear at least semi-composed. He was already making himself vulnerable, embarrassing himself by showing his blatant lack of understanding. He knew Harsh would be kind, and patient. The man had yet to show any sign of regretting his decision to take him in, something that was both a comfort, and a concern. It was forever looming over his head, the thought of the older vampire growing bored of playing mentor. But he knew he couldn’t live in fear. Either it would happen, or it wouldn’t, and right now, what was important was his distinct, and disorienting lack of knowledge. Hopefully, by the end of the night, he wouldn’t feel so lost, or confused. He might finally get some answers.  

People had been helping him, Harsh in particular had made him feel safe, and secure in a way he could never have anticipated. But there was so much to learn, and it was very rare for information to come up organically. He was learning, that much was undeniable, but the pacing was slow, and eventually he had come to decide the best course of action would be writing a list. A list of everything he felt he had missed, everything that wasn’t about to come up in conversation, every question that hit him at 6 in the morning, every worry, every passing query, every fact that Rio wouldn’t know. Harsh would be there for him, in the same way he had been there for him since the moment they first crossed paths with each other. So he saw no harm in presenting him with said list, of asking him outright in a bid to know more. 

The overwhelming scent of human food told him he would find Harsh cooking in the kitchen. It was something he did an awful lot considering he wasn’t able to enjoy the food, but the sound of somebody cooking, the smells, and routine that came with seeing his roommate busy over a stovetop, was something he genuinely enjoyed. It made the apartment feel more like home. Slipping out of his bedroom, and making his way into the hall, his socked feet were soft, and quiet against the apartment’s hardwood flooring. When he finally arrived at the kitchen, he hovered in the doorway so that he could watch for a moment before making his presence known. No doubt Harsh was fully aware he had an audience, he was very good at staying vigilant, but he pretended otherwise so it felt polite to announce himself. “So…” He started, trying to ignore the sudden spark of anxiety that ignited within his chest. It was an unhealthy product of his academic upbringing, but he hated not knowing. If he needed to know the answer to a question he had always been encouraged to search for it himself, which made it very easy to pretend he had automatically known the answer. This was different. Harsh was him searching for information, only to get it, he first needed to admit that he didn’t have it. Something that didn’t come naturally to him. “What’s on the menu tonight?” He asked, leaning against the door jam, offering an affectionate smile.  

There was something strangely comforting about having a roommate again. No, comforting wasn’t quite the word. Settling, balancing maybe. Harsh didn’t care to get hung up on the particulars. He knew what he was like when left on his own too long, had been there too many times. He got reckless, he got sloppy. Even before he had turned, before he had thrown his soul away, he had been impulsive. It was worse now. Though he had learned from two hundred years of mistakes, there were still times he slipped, fell into old, bad behaviors. It was so easy. Instant gratification. That was the name of the soulless game and it was one he had played for two centuries. He liked to think he played it well, but there had been close calls and plenty of them. Now though, there was someone else to worry about. A couple of someones, if he was honest with himself now. He had friends, people who gave a shit. And he wanted to give one too. It was weird, the feelings scraping up the hollow where his soul should be. Wanting one wasn’t the same as having it, not by a long shot, but he had been pretending for a while. Fake it till you make it, the words had served him pretty damn well so far. What was a bit more? 

Harsh didn’t take his eyes off the sizzling pan in front of him as Milo made his way down the hall. The kid was learning. Stealth wasn’t part of the vampire package, but it was necessary to know to make it out there. Still, Harsh hadn’t made it this far without knowing when someone was sneaking up on him, when he was being watched. But he kept his eyes on the food before him. Neither of them needed to eat, but it was a habit he had never quite managed to shake. He remembered it vaguely how much he had liked to cook when he was alive. Though the tastes had faded off his tongue, the fun hadn’t. He grinned as he flipped the vegetables, tossing and catching in the searing pan. Glancing over his shoulder at Milo’s question, he grinned. “Stir fry, I found this new recipe I wanted to try. Extra spicy, careful around the garlic though, makes your fangs pop out if you get a big bite.” 

Grabbing two dishes from the cupboard, he plated up the food smoothly and slid one across the counter to Milo. The apartment wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to suit their purposes and had a landlord who didn’t look too closely at references. The kitchen was separated from the living room only by a half wall sort of island, a bar stool on either side. Harsh sank onto his after grabbing a mug of blood out of the microwave. “You want a cup?” he asked. “There’s more in the fridge. Should last us a couple weeks.”  

Milo eyed the vegetables as Harsh flipped them, looking back up at the man in time to catch his easy grin. It was so obvious he enjoyed cooking, though he had never thought to ask why before. Was it something he used to do a lot when he was human? Maybe he had been a chef in some past forgotten life. “Wait- you put garlic in there?” He asked, moving forward to peer into the pan, his notebook still clutched to his chest. “That’s really a thing? Like, vampires and garlic?” He couldn’t hide his skepticism though he definitely wasn’t about to demand any kind of proof. He figured that was one question he would be able to tick off of his list. Leaning against the kitchen counter as Harsh moved to ready two plates, he couldn’t help the way his expression brightened at the prospect of blood. He had always been self-indulgent. If something made him feel good, or he enjoyed it, then he wanted more. He wasn’t in the business of denying himself simple pleasures, and thanks to his new life, blood happened to be one of them.  

He had kept note of his roommate’s eating habits, he knew vampires only really needed a moderate amount every couple of weeks if they wanted to get by without descending into bloodlust. But much to the detriment of Harsh’s supply, he had been drinking far more than he needed to. Why not? If Harsh was happy to let him then he saw no reason to hold back. “Sure!” He enthused, picking up his plate of food and setting it down opposite Harsh so that it would be ready for him when he got back. Leaving his notebook beside it, he moved to pull a blood bag out of the fridge. Using a pair of scissors from the cutlery drawer to cut open the plastic, he looked back over to his company as he began to empty the blood into a mug. “Did you have a good day- I mean, night at work?” He absentmindedly corrected himself, still not used to the shift in scheduling. “Anything interesting happen?”  

“Oh yeah, a whole bunch. I know it’s weird.” Harsh shot Milo a grin as he drew closer, glancing at the notebook. Huh, he was actually trying to do homework on this whole vampire thing. That was probably smart. “It is… sort of. It doesn’t hurt us or anything, but it makes it pretty hard to pretend to be human. Try a clove and see what happens,” he said, passing one over. “I just eat them like popcorn sometimes. They actually taste like something. I go a little crazy seasoning things sometimes.” As much as he swore by the perks of being undead, he couldn’t really deny that not being able to taste things properly was sort of a pain. After two hundred years, he was used to it, but playing around in the kitchen, trying to find something that would cut through the dullness never quite got old.  

The blood wasn’t going as far as it used to, but that was to be expected. Sharing with a roommate, and a newbie at that, was going to make things a little tighter than usual. Oh well. If they started running low on blood bags, Harsh could just go eat a couple joggers. He slid onto a stool at the counter, popping a large forkful of food into his mouth. Decent, but he could do better. “Well, Dr. Gnick killed three people in surgery today and made his interns talk to their families, so that was kind of a shit show. They seriously need to take that guy’s medical license away. If you ever want a watch though, let me know, he loses his in patients all the time. They’re nice ones too. What about you, man? Finding stuff to do around here?”  

“Everything about this situation is weird.” Milo countered, throwing the empty blood bag into the bin before putting his mug in the microwave. Setting the timer in the way he had been taught to, the drink should be body temperature by the time the alarm eventually sounded. Just the fact that he knew how long to microwave blood for inarguably supported his statement. That was not normal information to retain. Turning around to lean back against the counter behind him, listening to the quiet hum of the appliance, he wrinkled his nose at the thought of eating garlic cloves like popcorn. He knew as he tried to imagine doing so he was remembering the overpowering taste that came with being human, but it was still a difficult habit to understand. Hesitantly reaching out to take the clove offered to him, he held it up to his eye level, analysing it quietly before deciding he had nothing to lose. Popping it into his mouth, it definitely wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, and Harsh was right about being able to taste… something. But it was only a matter of seconds before he could feel his fangs protruding. They made him feel clumsy, and awkward as he continued to chew. After forcing himself to swallow, he reached up to prod at them with the tip of his finger, raising his eyebrows at his roommate. “So that’s what happens?” He asked. “It doesn’t hurt us but it stops us from looking human?”  

It was kind of depressing to think something as mundane as an ingredient could reveal what he was now, draw this monster out of him against his will, but he tried not to dwell on that fact, focusing instead on the microwave as it beeped to alert him that his drink was ready. Once he was comfortably hugging the mug to his chest, he settled into the chair opposite his friend, a quiet laugh escaping him at what he sincerely hoped was a joke. “No he did not.” He countered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Though honestly, shit like that would probably go unnoticed in a place like this.” If doctors could steal blood bags, and he could forge his father’s prescriptions, then people weren’t exactly being vigilant. “I can’t say I’m in the market for a watch,” he admitted. “But I’ll take one if it’s got a gruesome backstory.” Faltering at the question of how he was spending his time, he realised it was the perfect way to change the subject of their conversation. Move it over from lighthearted small talk to something heavier, and more difficult to discuss. Chewing on his bottom lip for a moment, his fangs sharp and uncomfortable against the skin there, he pulled his notebook back towards himself. “Actually…” He tapped his fingers absentmindedly against the page facing upwards. “I spent today coming up with a list of questions.” Offering Harsh a sheepish grin, he watched him carefully for any sign of judgement. “If- if you don’t mind me asking, I mean- I guess his is probably the last thing you want to do after work.” 

“Eh, after you’ve been doing it a while, it doesn’t seem that off.” Harsh hardly even thought about it anymore. Drinking blood was just one of those things, like showering or brushing his teeth. But then, he did have about two hundred years to get used to it. He snagged a couple cloves of garlic for himself, not so much as blinking when his fangs jutted out. It took a moment’s focus to get them back in place. Though he didn’t need to. Not like Milo was going to care about it. “Pretty much. So if you’re ever hanging around humans, just make sure you skip the garlic bread.” Garlic usually didn’t prove to be too much of a problem, though Harsh had encountered a couple humans over the years who had tried to slip him some, just to force the fangs out, to prove what they were already certain of. “It would be worse if we could still taste things. I would miss Italian food way more if it still tasted like something. If there’s any kind of food you miss though, I can try to make it. I like playing around with recipes, see what I need to do to make it actually have flavor.” 

Harsh laughed, one shoulder rising in a shrug. “Is pulling a watch out of a dead guy’s guts gruesome enough? I swear, the stuff you find in bodies at the hospital is wild.” He had a small collection of things that had been found by the unlucky doctors dealing with the patients who didn’t make it. Maybe it was stealing, but he was pretty sure that no one wanted any of it back. “Questions?” Harsh blinked, caught a little off guard. He shouldn’t have been though. It made sense. When he had first turned, he had probably driven Eleanor crazy with all his questions. “I don’t mind. Better you ask me than try to find vampire forums online, people always make up the weirdest shit. So go for it, kid. Ask me anything.” Hell, this would probably be a better way to spend the night than just watching whatever mindless crap was on TV.  

Milo could understand that. Even though on occasion he still caught himself doing something and was inevitably struck by just how strange that something was, his more vampiric habits were slowly becoming second nature. How long until he did things without thinking? Without remembering a time where he didn’t need to? Taking a sip from his mug, washing away the taste of the garlic, he watched Harsh as he retracted his own fangs. It wasn’t the first time he had seen him do it, but now felt like a very good time to ask him how it was possible. “How do you do that? Make them disappear?” He offered a sheepish grin, hiding behind his mug to avoid acknowledging his embarrassment. Maybe no matter what he did, he was going to feel ridiculous for asking so many questions. Maybe he should simply embrace that fact. “Noted.” He laughed quietly at the mention of garlic bread. He wasn’t sure there were many humans he needed to worry about eating around, so it wasn’t very much of a concern. Still, he was willing to take any advice he could get his hands on. “Italian food is your favourite? What was Italian food even like… two hundred years ago? How old are you again?” Making a mental note to think back on any food he missed that Harsh might be able to recreate, he wrinkled his nose at the mention of objects being found in dead bodies. Of course he had ended up with a roommate who liked to collect said items.  

“I actually don’t want to know, I’ve changed my mind.” He teased. “I can’t believe you have a collection. Have any ghosts followed you home demanding their shit back?” He was only half joking, he definitely wouldn’t be surprised if the answer ended up being yes. Feeling a little more confident in himself now that the conversation was flowing easily, he nodded, grateful for no longer being able to blush. “Oh, jeez. Thanks for the heads up. I’ll, uh… I’ll stay away from the internet.” Offering his company a genuine smile, he took one more sip of his drink before begrudgingly setting it down. This was going to require his full attention, he couldn’t afford to get distracted. Pulling his notebook towards himself, he let out a huff of breath. Why was it this hard? It shouldn’t be this hard. Especially when Harsh made him feel so comfortable. “Okay, so you know I wrote a list… I’m just going to- I’ll start with the first question.” It was only going to complicate things if he jumbled them, so he swallowed his nerves, steeling himself to rip off the bandaid. “So… why can’t we sleep?” It was something that had been bothering him an awful lot, as of late. He could almost sleep, achieve something that passed the time and felt similar to losing consciousness. But it wasn’t the same. He missed the comfort, and the warmth. He missed the dreaming. “It’s like I can, but I can’t- if you know what I mean. I don’t get it…”  

That was a decent question actually. Harsh hesitated, trying to think about it. There was so much that was just automatic now. He had spent so long learning to blend in, how to make himself seem more human, it was something he barely thought about. “You have to kind of relax your mouth. Think un-bloody thoughts. Just let them sink back in. It’s… kind of an instinct thing when they pop out sometimes, y’know? So you have to train yourself to just let them slip back in when you don’t need them. It’ll get easier with time.” At least, that was the hope. If Milo couldn’t figure it out, well… that was going to be a problem for later. He considered the question for a moment, shrugging. “I don’t know if it was my favorite. It depended where you went. I travelled a lot before I turned, everywhere had their own special dish. I’m 262… wait, I might be 263 actually. I sorta stopped keeping track of birthdays a while ago. They seem less special after the hundred year mark.” The date hardly mattered. If he really sat down and thought about it, he could probably remember, but there didn’t seem to be much of a point. It was easier to keep track of the years ticking by.  

“Hey, it’s not like I just keep them for the hell of it. Loose watches and rings sell for a lot if you know who wants to buy.” It wasn’t something Harsh technically needed to do, the hospital job paid well enough and he had a decent amount saved. Still, a little extra spending money never hurt. Watching Milo’s posture shift, Harsh sat up a little straighter. So the kid was serious about this. Good, that was good. The more he knew, the better he would handle things out in the world. Huh, that was actually a pretty good question. Harsh rubbed at his chin. “Yeah, I know what you mean. The short answer is that we just don’t need to. I… think when we turn, things in our brain kind of shift a little bit. You don’t need that deep sleep to recharge anymore, so we just… don’t. It’s weird. It’s one of those things that gets easier over time. I think another part of it is… well, humans are kind of wired to sleep at night, but that’s the only time we can really go out and do anything, so we need to be awake for it. If you really miss sleeping… I know a couple people who might be able to help with that.” It wasn’t a guarantee, but hell he had seen spellcasters do a lot more than just put someone to sleep.  

Milo glanced down at the blood in his mug, it was tempting him even as they spoke. Maybe thinking ‘un-bloody’ thoughts would need to wait for another time. “Hm, you keep saying that.” He pointed out. Though he had no doubt the words were true, sometimes he felt too impatient to wait for things to become easier with time. Why couldn’t they become easier now? Falling silent again, genuinely intrigued by the answer to his question, he couldn’t imagine how different travelling was back when Harsh had been human. Did he use a horse and cart like in the movies? Or ships, maybe? What other modes of transport were there? A quiet laugh escaping him, he did his best to avoid dwelling on his roommate’s age. It was fun to joke about every now and then, but the reality of it was terrifying. He had gone from feeling certain he probably wouldn’t reach the age of fifty, to knowing he might very well live to see his two hundredth birthday. What were you supposed to do with that information? How were you supposed to come to terms with that? “I guess fitting more than a hundred candles on a cake is pretty impossible anyway.” He teased.  

His smile growing as he realised Harsh sold the items he took from the morgue, he wasn’t sure whether that was more or less reassuring. It could definitely be considered economical. Watching as his company sat up a little straighter, he felt another wave of gratitude wash over him. He didn’t need to be taking this so seriously, but apparently he understood how important it was. How desperate he was just to understand. His smile faltered as Harsh began to explain the way their bodies worked, but it didn’t take away from his appreciation. He wanted to say he wasn’t disappointed, that he had inevitably drawn the same conclusion. But he was disappointed. He was never going to have the feeling of waking up next to somebody again. He was never going to be able to drift off in the morning knowing he didn’t need to be up for anything. It was an opportunity to escape reality, to just enjoy being comfortable, and it had been taken from him. Stolen like so many other things. “You- you do?” He asked, unable to hide the sudden spark of hope he felt ignite within his chest. “Like actually sleep? Because I already know from experience I can still drink myself into oblivion.” Taking a quick sip from his mug before picking up his pen and crossing out question number one, he tapped the top of it against his notepad, already thinking over question number two. “Okay…” He continued, making it clear he was moving on. “So how can we be killed? There has to be more than one way, right? And we can get injured, so if we get injured enough, can that be fatal... or is it only if we’re injured by wood?” 

“Ah, yeah, sorry. I don’t mean to be a broken record. It’s just… you’re still pretty new to all this, man. You’ve gotta give yourself a break. There’s no rush, y’know? You’ve got a couple hundred years to figure shit out if you play your cards right.” It felt lame to say, but Harsh knew he had been repeating himself. That didn’t make it less true. There were so many things that he had just stumbled onto as time went on, things that just became natural the longer he spent as a thing that went bump in the night. Honestly, some of Milo’s questions kinda threw him. He hadn’t thought about his fangs in such a long time. They were just part of him. It was like asking about how his tongue moved when he was eating something. It just… did it. But that wasn’t a helpful answer. With a laugh, he nodded. “I tried to put a hundred on a cake once. It wasn’t really worth the joke, the whole thing got all waxy and gross. It’s easier to just get those number shaped candles, cheaper too.” The thing about birthdays is that you needed people to celebrate them with. Harsh didn’t always have those. But… maybe he should look into it. There were people in White Crest, his friends, they might like that kind of thing. It was weird to think about.  

“Yeah, I do.” Harsh sort of did. It was… maybe a weird ask, but that was probably something Nell could whip up, or maybe he could track down someone a little shadier and ask. It wasn’t as though he had never dreamed as a vampire, though the few times he had, something magic had definitely been at work. So it was possible… probably. He had never actually figured out what it had been that caused all that dream sharing stuff, but it hadn’t been all that important. At least not for him. “Actual, real sleep. It… might get a little weird, magic can do that, but I think it would be more like what you want.” Magic always had its risks. He wasn’t anything close to a spellcaster and he knew that much. Onto the more intense questions then. That was a pretty smart ask though. “There’s a couple ways,” he said, nodding, “stake through the heart is the most popular. You probably know about the sun thing, if you stay out too long, it’s bad news. We’re also shockingly flammable, so I would avoid campfires and arson. And getting your head cut off, but I’m pretty sure that kills most things. Most other things we can heal from, and we heal fast, but you don’t want to get too reliant on that. Bullets and knives still hurt like hell, and if you haven’t had blood in a while, you heal slower.” Harsh didn’t exactly have the scars to prove it, but he could remember more than a few times where he had gotten a little too cocky and paid the price.  

Milo smiled at Harsh, silently assuring him he didn’t need to apologise. Especially not for trying to comfort him, even if he did use the same lines on occasion. He was right, although the reminder of his new lifespan still made him nervous. He had time to figure things out, time to become comfortable with what he was, and the strange world he had been thrown into. He was already feeling far better than he had when Harsh first crossed his path, and that was largely due to his help. In a few more months he might even be happy, there really was no way to know. “Hm, but those number candles aren’t anywhere near as dramatic.” He pointed out. “Isn’t a hundred kind of a flex?” Wrinkling his nose at the thought of biting into icing only to realise it was actually wax, he couldn’t deny the inconvenience. But then, did vampires even eat cake? Making a mental note as the conversation shifted back to sleep, he didn’t want to forget. He longed to know who these people were, who he could go to and ask for some spell or potion that might allow him to replicate sleep. But that wasn’t what he was here to discuss. There were more important questions demanding his attention. “I can handle weird.” He assured his roommate, although he had a feeling there might be a lot of evidence to prove otherwise. Until recently he had been a mess, and they both knew it. Only with Harsh’s support had he been able to brush himself off, and hesitantly begin to deal with the loss of his human life.  

Pushing away the thought, he focused on his mug of blood, nearly half empty now as it sat on the table in front of him. He picked it up, taking another sip before it was able to get cold. Nodding to show that he was listening to what was being said, he considered the new information. He was more than familiar with people trying to force a stake through his heart, but the mention of fire surprised him. “Wait- we’re flammable?” He asked, his mouth open slightly as he stared in indignant disbelief. “What, so every time I pull out my lighter I could literally fucking die?” As far as he was concerned, he would much rather take the inconvenience of wax on a cake over being scared of the candles. “You’re saying smoking can still kill me…” He added, pouting petulantly as he began to realise how frustrating navigating his smoking habit was going to be. “Shit.” Finishing what was left of his drink, he undeniably did feel better after putting his mug down again. Blood, like so many other substances in his life, was proving to be a wonderful aid when it came to avoiding his problems. “Okay, so…” Letting out a huff of breath, he turned his attention back to his notebook, scanning the questions he had written there, searching for the next one on the list. “You said if I haven’t had blood in a while then I heal slower? How much blood do I need to survive? And what happens to me if I don’t drink it?”  

It was a pretty big adjustment, going from expecting to croak in fifty years to knowing there might be hundreds to go. Harsh had been pretty thrown when he had realized just how much time he had. Sure there was that distant deadline, four hundred years, but even that wasn’t an end. It was… a change, but one he wasn’t really eager to think about. Even though he was getting closer to that than he was to a normal human lifespan. Still, not his main problem right now. “Kinda, yeah. I definitely made a pretty big deal of it when I hit triple digits. But the second century seems a little more meh, y’know?” Though maybe that was just him. By the time he had started getting close to two hundred, everything had started to seem… less than it used to be. The hollow inside had started to grow, nothing ever filling it. Nothing lasted, nothing mattered. Huh, were souls a thing on Milo’s list? Harsh was half tempted to ask. Nah, probably better not to touch that unless the kid brought it up. “Alright, I can ask. Do you--have you messed with anything magic before? We can’t do it, at least I’m pretty sure we can’t. But there’s kind of… a lot of it just going off around here.” Milo was from the area, he had to have noticed some things weren’t quite normal in town. How anyone didn’t know that White Crest was a supernatural hot spot was beyond him. Denial was a hell of a drug.  

With a little laugh, Harsh nodded. “Yeah. I mean, you’re probably not going to go up in flames if you drop your smokes on you, but… you might just want to be a little more careful with them. Just in case.” He had seen a few vamps catch fire before, it wasn’t pretty. Still, it didn’t usually happen by accident… usually. There had been a few idiots here and there who had landed themselves in rough shape. “It’s possible,” he said, shrugging and shooting Milo a sympathetic smile. “Just be careful and you shouldn’t have a problem… but I might stay away from bonfires if I were you.” Ah, blood, of course. It always came back around to that. Harsh hardly thought about it now. But the questions were good ones. “Yeah, and it’s not just healing. If I go too long without blood, I start getting antsy, it gets harder to focus on anything except for when I’m getting that next blood bag.” He fought down a slight shudder as he spoke. It had been ages since the last time he had gone too long without a drink, but the times he’d stretched his supply a little too thin always stuck in the back of his mind. “It depends. You’re still new, so… I wouldn’t go more than a week without a pint of blood. Once you adjust more, you can probably stretch it to two weeks, maybe three, but it starts getting risky around then. If you don’t get any… for me, I start feeling a lot less like a person. It gets to where it’s all you can think about. And, if it gets really bad, you might kind of lose yourself until you get another drink, and at that point, you’ll probably do anything you have to to get it.”

“Hm, the second century…” Milo echoed, amused by the absurdity of the statement. He could only imagine being that old, but one day he wouldn’t need to. One day it would be him reaching the triple digits. “Have I- no.” He answered, caught off guard by the unexpected question. “I mean, I don’t even know anybody who can do magic… I don’t think I do, anyway.” It was still strange to consider how many people from his life had been living in a secret, supernatural world. If he was being entirely honest he probably did know a witch or two. They just hadn’t told him about what they could do. “Why? Is it like, dangerous or something? Are you going to tell me it’s more trouble than it’s worth?” He almost dreaded the words, not because he would heed any advice Harsh had to offer, but because it would be another element of his life that came with risks, strings attached, people worrying over his safety, and growing restless when he refused to listen to them. He already had enough of that without turning to magic as a sleeping aid. “Yeah, no shit.” He added. “Ever since I died this place seems to get weirder by the fucking day…” He missed the days of blissful ignorance, the days where he could leave the house without worrying whether a Slayer might be waiting at the end of the street to stake him. Picking up his mug again, he sighed, clutching it to his chest as he listened to his roommate.  

“If I did careful then I wouldn’t be a vampire.” He pointed out. Though they both knew he would be careful knowing the risk fire now posed to him. Not as careful as any sane person, but given his record any level of vigilance was commendable on his part. Paying closer attention as the conversation moved back to blood, he finished what was left of his drink, carefully savouring the taste of it. “I guess I kind of know that feeling…” He admitted, thinking back on every time he had ever been forced to go without his pills, or his cigarettes, or abstain from drinking alcohol. It was never an enjoyable experience. “I, uh… don’t think stretching is for me.” He realised as he said the words that maybe sometimes stretching would be his only option. Blood wasn’t exactly easy to source in an ethical manner. Without Harsh’s connection to the hospital, he didn’t know where his supply might be coming from. He wouldn’t let himself dwell on the thought. Swallowing as his company began to tell him about the risks of not eating properly, he lowered his gaze, tapping his fingers against the ceramic in his hands. He already knew what it felt like to lose himself, he never wanted to suffer through that again. “Like when you wake up… after you die...” He asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Would Harsh even be able to remember waking up? It had happened to him so long ago.  

Forcing down the memories of his first, and only attack, he stared at his notebook, at the questions still written there demanding to be vocalised. “You mentioned healing…” He murmured, determined to change the subject, although he knew his next question was going to be a difficult question to ask. Harsh was more than aware of the fact that he liked to indulge, the man had even walked with him to pick up on the night they crossed paths with each other, but he still worried he could end up facing judgement, or the specific brand of sympathetic concern that still managed to set his teeth on edge. “This is hypothetical,” he started, knowing his lie would be obvious but feeling the need to insist upon it all the same. “But with the whole… the healing faster than humans thing, do you think I could still use, y’know- intravenously?” Glancing down at the marks on his arms, scars from long ago that were apparently going to forever blemish his skin, he forced himself to press on. “I guess I can’t OD anymore, right? Is that something I still need to worry about?” 

That sort of made sense. Most people didn’t believe in magic until they saw it right in front of them, and sometimes that wasn’t even enough to do it. Harsh shifted his weight from foot to foot, a slight frown on his face. The question here was just how much to tell Milo. “More like it’s just literally not a thing we can do. Something about undeath and magic just doesn’t seem to mix. I don’t really know much more than that, honestly. I’ve heard people kind of lose their mojo if they turn like us. They’ll try to do a spell and just, nothing. I tried to mess with some a while back and never got anywhere.” He kept his tone light, casual, hoping Milo wouldn’t ask just what he had been trying to do. There were a dozen things he could make up, a few that weren’t even that far from the truth. “It’s also dangerous as shit if you don’t know what you’re doing. I won’t tell you not to mess with magic or spellcasters, I’m not the boss of you, but that stuff can go wrong and it’s not pretty when it does.” It was only just now getting weirder for him? Well, maybe that made sense. Milo had sort of been thrust into the thick of it.  

With a soft laugh, Harsh nodded, holding up his hands. “Fair enough.” He couldn’t really argue with Milo on that one. Careful and becoming undead didn’t exactly go hand in hand. He nodded. “That’s probably better honestly. What really gets people in trouble is when they think they can make it on just a sip of blood every month. You’ll be a lot better off if you stay regular with it, especially if you’re not always drinking human blood.” He was still going to have to teach Milo how to hunt. It wasn’t exactly necessary at the moment, but two vamps meant a few more blood bags needed to go missing every month. Harsh had gotten good at keeping a low profile over the years. Milo though was still new, and new vamps weren’t exactly predictable. With a grimace, he nodded again. “Just like that. It’s… rough. People do a lot of things they regret if they go hungry for too long. I’d try just to not let it get to that point.” Easier said than done, honestly. 

Ah, that. Now that was a bit of a hazy area. Harsh smoked and drank here and there, but he had never dabbled much in stronger stuff. It had never really appealed to him. A blood addiction was enough as far as he was concerned. But it was still worth asking. “Right, so… I’m not exactly an expert on that. But I think you could. You’re probably going to have to jab a little harder and you might need a stronger dose than before if you want to feel something.” He paused, letting his thoughts drift back for a moment. Though he had never messed around with anything beyond a few pot brownies, he had met a couple vamps over the years who hadn’t been able to leave their old vices behind. “I did have a few buddies a while back, they said they could still get what they needed if they fed from a human who just used. I don’t know if you’d want to do that, but… it’s an option, I guess. It sounds kind of risky to me though.” Drugs and drinking straight from a human sounded like a combination that was bound to end in disaster, but hell, Harsh had never tried it himself so what did he know. “I don’t think you need to worry too much about OD’ing now. I’d be more worried about someone thinking you OD’ed and sending you to the hospital. It’s really hard to explain waking up in a morgue.” 

Milo made a mental note to avoid magic when he could, although toying with it didn’t necessarily interest him. He was looking for a way to replicate sleep, if that wasn’t possible he wasn’t sure staying away from potions, and spells would be difficult. Part of him was curious to know why, and how Harsh had been involved in spellcasting, it was becoming increasingly clear he was speaking from experience, but the older vampire was always so open when he wanted to be. If he wasn’t volunteering the information there was definitely a reason. He was under his roof, drinking his blood, picking his brain for answers to his never ending list of questions. The very least he could do was respect his privacy. “I’m not about to try and learn, don’t worry.” He insisted, hoping to alleviate some of his company’s concern. He had far too much going on to invite more chaos into his life, especially for something as simple as a good day of sleep. Smiling at the sound of Harsh’ laughter, he enjoyed the fact that the conversation felt casual, and calm. Any embarrassment, or vulnerability was fading away, replaced by a familiar sense of comfort. It was a reminder that he was safe in Harsh’s company, a reminder that for some unknown reason, the man wanted him to be okay.  

“Is it good for you?” He asked, unable to help himself. He had never once considered the nutritional value of his diet, what his new body needed from it now. “To drink both?” He thought back to his nights spent on the edges of town, chasing aimlessly after every animal moronic enough to cross his path. Sometimes he got lucky, sometimes he actually managed to catch something, but the animals were usually weak or injured. He knew he wouldn’t stand a chance against a healthy creature, one determined to escape him. The blood couldn’t compare to human blood, but it had still tasted decent, and more importantly, it had kept him sane. Would he ever have to go back to that? Should he never have left it behind? Chewing on his bottom lip, fighting to keep his expression neutral, he didn’t want to talk about his own experience with losing control. He wasn’t ready to discuss that with anyone, not even Harsh. So he stayed silent, nodding quietly in response. It was only as Harsh moved on to his next question that he finally looked back up to catch his eye again.  

A stronger dose. He wasn’t exactly against the notion, although he could hear his wallet adamantly protesting the news. He really should start thinking about going back to his job, but that part of his human life felt so out of reach, impossible to even consider. Not yet. Not now. Not after everything. “You did?” He asked, immediately desperate to know more. There were people out there who understood what he was worried about, who knew everything he needed to know if he wanted to continue supporting his habits. Where were they? How could he find them? Just as quickly as a sense of hope washed over him, it was replaced by a chill that seemed to shoot up the length of his spine. He couldn’t remember very much of his death, but his hazy memories were enough to make his friend’s words sound uncomfortably familiar. So he could give somebody drugs, and get high through drinking their blood? Apparently that particular strategy ended with people bleeding out on the floor of abandoned buildings. He suppressed a shudder, trying not to think too hard on the subject. He didn’t know that was why he died, and until he did he was determined to forget the details of his death, forget the trauma that he couldn’t seem to shake. “Yeah…” He murmured, reaching up absentmindedly to press his fingers against the base of his throat. “It does…” Forcing a smile again at the mention of waking up in a morgue, he had seen enough tv shows frame the situation as a joke to be able to glean some humour from the warning. Lowering his hand, he leaned forward to pull his notebook closer towards himself, scanning the list, surprised to realise he was nearing the end of it. “Okay,” he said, brushing off the previous questions, ready to be replaced. “How do you make somebody a vampire? What do you have to do for them to, you know… change? Obviously I’m not asking because I want to... I just… I can’t remember what happened to me. I want to know what was done to me.”  

It was sort of a relief that Milo didn’t ask. Because if he did, Harsh would tell him. Maybe he should anyway. Was there anything about souls on that vampire question sheet? He almost wanted to sneak a peek at it. It wasn’t exactly… uncommon knowledge, but he had run into plenty of vamps over the years who had never even thought about their soul, let alone getting rid of it. He gave Milo a little smile. “Probably better that way. There’s plenty of witches hanging around town if you need some magic done anyway. It’s actually pretty cool if you watch someone who knows what they’re doing.” Cool and terrifying. Even when a spell was going right there was a chance it could go south at any second. Harsh sort of liked that rush… and he wouldn’t be that surprised if Milo did too.  

“Yeah, a while back. I can try looking them up if you want.” The offer was one Harsh might not be able to cash in on. It had been ages, and those buddies weren’t really the type to have a consistent phone number or address… if they were even still around at all. “You might be able to find some people who know more about that down at this club called Teeth. You heard of it?” It probably wasn’t the sort of place he should send Milo to alone. He didn’t go there much himself, but he could chaperone now and then. God that was a weird idea, being the responsible one. When the hell did that happen? He was going to have to go out and make some dumb choices after this. Being responsible felt off. He had been trying to fake it, force it, for years. The fact that it was just kind of… happening now was weird. Unnerving.  

Oh… now that was a question. Harsh let his fingers drum on the counter for a second. “Yeah, I get you.” It was understandable, wanting to get a grip on what had happened to him. “It’s not that complicated… mostly. You have to drain someone till they’re almost dead then get them to drink your blood and they should turn.” He paused, lips pulling into a grimace. “But you’ve got to be careful with it. Sometimes people turn, but… they don’t end up like us. Have you heard of spawn before? They’re… still vampires technically, but they’re not people anymore, not like we are. Some vampires make spawn on purpose, but it’s pretty messed up.” He should know, he’d done it a few times for shits and giggles. It had never turned out as funny as he had thought it would. 

Milo resisted the urge to let out a huff of breath, of course White Crest was filled with witches. It seemed as though you could roll a dice on supernatural creatures and run into one the second you opened your door. “It sounds pretty cool.” He admitted. “But I can’t think of any reason why I might need magic… apart from the whole sleeping thing.” And maybe he should hold off on that for now. If magic could come with complications, didn’t his life have enough of those already? Humming softly as he considered the offer, he shot Harsh a sheepish grin. He was grateful he wasn’t being judged, or even reprimanded for his blatant intentions, but he hadn’t been expecting such a genuine level of support. “You’ve already done so much for me… I mean, only if it isn’t too much trouble?” Teeth. He felt sure he would remember visiting any place with such a distinctive name. “Uh… no,” he said, hoping to prompt a further explanation. There weren’t many establishments in White Crest he hadn’t frequented at least once before. And now he was incredibly curious to know more.   

Feeling the atmosphere shift, becoming more serious as Harsh considered his latest question, he watched his fingers as they drummed against the surface of the table, the noise was quiet but incredibly distracting. Hearing the words, feeling them wash over him as his brain began to process what they meant, he had to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth. “I… drank somebody’s blood?” He asked, repressing a shudder. Drinking blood now was part of his every day routine, but he had been human then. Had he willingly taken it, or had his attacker forced it upon him? “Spawn?” He nodded, a frown creasing his brow as he looked back down at his list. The question ‘What does Spawn mean?’ jumping out at him in his clumsy, familiar handwriting. “Someone mentioned them to me once… but I didn’t know what they meant.” Feeling his stomach jolt as he realised he could have become the something other Harsh was talking about, he wondered what his chances had been. Whether he should be considering himself lucky for waking up as a vampire. “How do you make them? Is it the same… process?” He asked. If they could be created intentionally then surely there was a technique. “How do you know what somebody is going to become?” 

“You never know. It’s pretty helpful if you lose something.” Harsh wasn’t about to list off his big reason for needing magic. But he should. Milo should know. He should tell him the truth. No… there was no reason to scare the kid. And it wasn’t like he owed him that information. Souls were personal. If Milo found out about them, Harsh could tell him then. Why was he even so hung up on it? It wasn’t like it mattered. He was faking it perfectly fucking well. No reason to go and throw all that away. “It’s no problem, kid. I don’t get out enough anyway.” Probably better to have someone around for Milo’s first big vamp outing. There were a lot of bad influences out there. Harsh should know. He used to be one of the worst. Plus, if Milo went on some kind of drug fuelled blood bender, that would just make things more difficult for everyone. “We can hit it up this weekend if you want, see if it’s your scene.” 

Huh, so Milo really didn’t remember any of it. That was… rough. Harsh could still remember his. Well, parts of it at least. He hadn’t been alone. Eleanor had held his hand as the world went dark around him and been there when he woke up desperate to feed. Poor kid didn’t have any of that. “Yeah, that’s… kind of how it works,” he said, with a little wince. So he had at least heard of spawn, that was better than nothing. “Spawn give us a bad name. They’re the ones slayers should be dealing with.” He nodded, arms crossing over his chest. “Same process. I… don’t know exactly. I’ve always thought of it as an intent sort of thing. I know it can be done on purpose.�� No need to tell Milo he knew at least partially from experience. “When you turn someone… it’s kind of this whole… thing. Siring someone isn’t something most people do lightly. I guess I’ve always thought of it as kind of a willpower and focus sort of thing. When you sire someone, you have to mean it, you have to want it. And if that’s not strong enough… it can go wrong. It gets easier to turn someone else properly the longer you’ve been at it. I’ve known some people who just turned who try to bring their family along for the undead ride and… it doesn’t usually go well.” 

“I don’t have all that much to lose these days.” Milo admitted, thinking about the meagre collection of belongings he had managed to salvage from his friend’s house. He should probably go home, he still needed clothes, his laptop, and maybe there were even a few comic books he couldn’t live without. But the task felt so daunting. Watching Harsh, noticing the shadow of an emotion he couldn’t quite place, he wondered whether the older vampire had ever lost anything. Maybe one day he would ask him. “I, uh…” He shifted uncomfortably, thinking about how ready he was to walk into a room full of vampires. His killer could be there and he might never even know. “Maybe… I’m still getting used to going out again, period. It’s a- it’s a weird adjustment.” He offered a smile, letting his roommate know he was incredibly grateful for the offer. For everything. He wasn’t sure where he would be without the man sitting opposite him, who worked in a hospital, and liked to cook human food just for the fun of it. He cared about him, in an altogether unexpected way. He had been saved by Harsh. It was undeniable at this point.  

“From the way it sounds they don’t mean to give us a bad name.” He pointed out, feeling a strange pang of sympathy for the monsters being described. It was a horrifying thought, becoming twisted, and warped in a way that forced you to lose who you were forever. At least he was still Milo, at least he could cling to the things that made him exactly who he was. “So… the person who did this to me, they wanted me to become a vampire. They cared enough for this-” He gestured vaguely to his neck, wrinkling his nose as he remembered the scars there. “To be successful, just not enough to stick around, I guess…” Letting out a huff of breath, he tried not to look affected, finally picking up his fork and taking a mouthful of his stir fry, if anything just for something to do. Glancing up again at the mention of people turning family, he couldn’t imagine that thought ever even crossing his mind. Maybe because he refused to acknowledge the way his future stretched out before him. Maybe because he didn’t want to admit the fact that one day his parents would no longer be there for him. Everything about the idea felt wrong, somehow. Dooming your family simply because you yourself had been doomed. He was never going to be that person. “M’kay…” He hurried to swallow, turning his attention back to the notebook, to the final question written at the edge of the page. “The last question is probably dumb but… you know the whole sunlight thing? What does happen if we stay out in the sun? When I first… y’know, I was in the sun for a while and I started to feel... I can’t explain it, I just knew I had to find some shade. Do we just get ill, and weak, or is it something more than that?”  

A weird adjustment period was putting it pretty mildly. Even more than a hundred years later, Harsh remembered the shift being rough. He returned Milo’s smile easily. Milo was a good kid. He didn’t ask for any of this shit, not like Harsh did. The fact that he had been left high and dry to figure it all out on his own… even without a soul, it rubbed Harsh the wrong way. At his very worst, he had still stuck around to make sure the vamps he sired knew what was up. It was just the thing to do. “Don’t worry if it takes you a while. It’s better to be safe than sorry with… everything. But you’ve got time now, man, you don’t have to rush it.” That was a pretty big perk of the whole undeath thing. Milo had at least a couple centuries before him if he wanted them… and if he was careful.  But that was always a pretty big if with new vampires. If Harsh was smart, he wouldn’t get attached, wouldn’t get invested. Harsh had never really considered himself particularly bright.  

“They don’t,” Harsh said, sighing. “They don’t mean to do anything but feed. It’s not their fault really… spawn can’t really think like we can. Everything gets stripped away except that hunger.” It was pretty bleak if he actually thought about it. Usually, he didn’t. That was easy, not dwelling, not thinking. But Milo wasn’t like him. Milo still had his soul, he still felt for people. Now that was an interesting question. Did whoever turned Milo actually care? What were they after? Why him? Harsh nodded slowly. “They meant for this to happen. Whoever it was, whatever reason they had… they wanted you to be this way.” Probably. Harsh had heard of plenty of people accidentally creating spawn. But he had never heard of someone accidentally siring someone if they meant them to go the other way. Sunlight, that was another good question, even if it had Harsh fighting down a wince. “You don’t want to test it, trust me. If you stay out too long, you start to burn. Remember how we’re flammable? Think of the sun like the biggest lighter out there. It just takes a while to get the fire going.” 

“Yeah…” Milo agreed, despite feeling as though maybe he was taking too long. Had Harsh been this shaken up when he first became a vampire? How long did it take him to stop feeling nervous, and scared? But he did have time, an awful lot of time, and somebody willing to be patient with him. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe, for the first time in his life, he was being forced to process change in a healthy manner. “Thank you…” He added, struck by a sudden sense of gratitude. “I mean, I know I say that enough for the phrase to lose all meaning but I do still mean it.” Taking another mouthful of stir fry, chewing it for longer this time to see if he could bring out any more flavour, he used his fork to push the food around his plate, listening as Harsh began to elaborate on Spawn. The subject made him uncomfortable for so many reasons. Because it made him anxious knowing he could have become one, because it upset him to know other people were suffering, because there was no way to save them, or teach them how to live again. It was over. It was a fate worse than death.  

Letting out a quiet huff of breath, he hesitantly glanced back up at his friend. They meant for this to happen. It was one thing to draw a conclusion himself, another thing entirely for Harsh to tell him he was right. There was no room for doubt, his roommate was speaking the truth. But that only left him with more questions, questions he might never find answers to. “Yeah, well… fuck him, right?” He muttered, wishing he could say the words and miraculously let go of his trauma. Even though speaking them did offer him a degree of satisfaction, it was never going to be quite that easy. Raising his eyebrows as Harsh seemed to wince at the mention of sunlight, he was so relieved for the distraction that he found himself resisting the urge to laugh. It wouldn’t exactly be appropriate until he understood the context, until he knew what Harsh had been through to warrant such a reaction. But a vampire being so averse to sunlight that he didn’t even like somebody mentioning the sun was amusing. He couldn’t pretend otherwise. “Right,” he nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Like an ant under a magnifying glass, jeez…” Repressing a shudder, he made the conscious decision not to dwell on the information. He could truly consider everything he had learned in the morning, when he was curling up in bed, alone, and safe underneath his comforter. Now he only wanted to enjoy an evening with Harsh, his roommate, his friend… his mentor? It was true, he wasn’t sure where he would be without him. But he did know, all things considered, that he was more than content with where he had ended up.