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jeonverselol · 2 years

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go ahead and cry (m) (pt 1) - jjk

a/n: this is purely a fic based on the song ‘daddy issues’ by the neighbourhood - probably great to listen to it first

summary: jungkook has commitment issues when it came to love and you are always ready to fall in love. you two want to be loved, and you’re ready to attach yourself but that’s what scares jungkook and he finally confronts all his fears.

genre: smut, angst | friends to lovers au | fratboy!kook x reader

word count: 3.6k

warnings: daddy issues lol, unprotected sex (don’t ever do that pls), cunnilingus, unhealthy coping mechanisms, squirting, overstimulation, fingering, public sex (sort of), exhibitionist kink (if you squint), praising, desperate kook, needy kook, jealousy, insecurities, crying scenes, emotional outbursts

take you like a drug, i taste you on my tongue, you ask me what i'm thinking about, i tell you that i'm thinking about

“fuck, that feels so good,” you moaned out loud when jungkook’s tongue flicks your bud. he has been eating you out for an hour since he came over. his earlier text to you was a bit vague, just a “can i come over, need to talk.” you didn’t think much about it before replying a curt ‘sure’ and about half an hour later he pulled up, dressed up black jeans and a t-shirt inside and a jacket over it - he probably was out somewhere; and his face tells you he’s been drinking.

when you opened the door, he did not try to hide the fact that he was undressing you with his eyes the moment he saw you in your tank top and shorts, the breeze filled the silence of the night, hardening your nipples in an instant, buds peeking through the cotton fabric. “what did you wanna talk ab-“ your sentence was cut off with him lunging towards you and picking you up, foot closing the door before pinning you against it.

“need you first,” there was a sense of plea in his voice, something you can’t quite place. it wasn’t unusual for jungkook to come over to yours whenever he wanted. you wouldn’t call yourself fuck buddies, and friends with benefits might be the closest label but then again you two had never hooked up that much to reap much benefits to call it so. it all happened spontaneously, like right now.

it started about 8 months ago, with a drunken kiss. you and jungkook had always been friends since the start of university, hanging out with the same group of friends but probably not extremely close to be called best friends, but close friends, nonetheless. it was during a truth or dare game in a frat party that jungkook admitted you were the hottest person in the party, and during a little tour in his room your lips met his and never felt like leaving. fast forward a month later he had you alone in his room again, attempts of a movie right gone futile when a full-blown fucking session occurred the whole night. after that incident, the two of you never made the attempt to establish anything but have repeated the incident a handful of times, no explanation, just spontaneously.

which is what led you to your thighs spread out hanging on his shoulders right now. “oh my god, that feels so fucking good,” your eyes rolled back as he started to insert his tongue into your folds. you must have came about four times already because you were extra sensitive. “could eat this pussy all day.” he drove in like starved man, tongue darting in and out of your walls. he was still fully clothed and you were stark naked, something about it made you feel timid yet you loved the power play that ensued. he started to suck your clit and your whimpers became screams as you buck your hips to his face. “come on give me what i want baby, cum on my tongue again.” he was groaning at this point. he seemed angry for some reason, but also desperate.

“yes yes yes like that kook,” your palms went to your bare breasts to tug your nipples, adding to the stimulation and the waves your shock your lower half is going to get. he inserted two fingers into your sensitive folds, curling his fingertips upwards in a come-hither motion. this got you spreading your legs wider than before and his free hand came to hold your thigh down. “pussy so fucking good i could cum just by having a meal here.” he never failed to hide how desperate he was for you whenever you two had these encounters. he was shamelessly grinding on the floor, seemed to be eagerly chasing his release as well. “fuck i’m cumming!” you let out a high pitched moan before coming undone on his fingers and tongue for the fifth time tonight. “mm baby doll if you keep making those sounds i’m gonna cum in my pants.”

“cum inside me baby, just slip inside,” you were sensitive but you didn’t wanna leave him hanging. “fuck you’re desperate aren’t you baby girl, i’ll give it to you, i’ll give you what you want,” he stood up and discarded every piece of clothing he had. his hard cock sprang free from his boxers and the tip was red and angry. he stroked himself a few times before aligning his tip against your entrance.

whatever you're thinking about, tell me something that i'll forget, and you might have to tell me again, it's crazy what you'll do for a friend

“you need me don’t you baby, tell me how much you need me, tell me and i’ll give it to you,” his commands were domineering but laced with desperation. jungkook needed you to constantly tell him that you needed him. “fuck me kook, fuck me hard.” you spread your legs for him, folds glistening with your essence and his saliva. you two moaned in unison as jungkook pushed himself into you. “that’s right baby, whose pussy is this hm? tell me who gives it to you good.” he was fucking into you hard and relentlessly. “yours! fuck, only you fuck me good!”

“don’t need anyone else don’t you, always so fucking good to me, the best pussy in the world,” his thumb came down and rubbed your puffy clit harsh, sending you into jolts of sensation. “so fucking good jungkook!” he lifted your leg and folded it to your chest while the other occupied itself on your clit. his dick was hitting new angles and with how sensitive you were, it was getting too much. “fuck, too sens- too sensitive,” you were writhing in his hold, tears escaping the brim of your eyes.

go ahead and cry, little girl, nobody does it like you do. i know how much it matters to you. i know that you got daddy issues

“shh, don’t cry little girl, i’m gonna make you feel so good… shh,” his thumb came up to wipe your tear away before continuing his assault on your clit. “that’s right baby, give it to me, i’ll make you feel so good, don’t move away, don’t move away from me,” he pounded into you harder and you feel your orgasm slowly building up again, this time you knew you were gonna cum harder than before. “don’t… don’t stop kook, keep going.” you relaxed in his hold once again, a sight jungkook was thriving on. “told you baby girl, shh, just trust me, i’ll give you everything, i won’t disappoint you you know me right? i won’t hurt you,” at this point you’re not sure if his words were a reflection of his desperation for you or something else but you were not going to question it.

a hard thrust from jungkook caused you to scream in ecstasy and as he pulled himself completely out you as you were gushing onto him. “that’s right! fuck yeah you’re a sin baby, my angel baby,” jungkook was always an oxymoron, he loved things that were bad for him and when something good happens he thinks something might be wrong – exhibit A right now.

and if you were my little girl, i'd do whatever i could do, i'd run away and hide with you, i know that you got daddy issues, and i do too

he pushed himself back in and with a few thrusts, you felt spurts of hot liquid coating your walls and his face rested on the crook of your neck. after seconds, he slowly pulled out of you and before you could open your mouth, he went towards the pile of his clothes. you were about to be disappointed, thinking he was going to leave but he fished out a box of cigarettes and a lighter. he brought one to his lips before lighting it up, taking a long drag. he put on his boxers and darted to the balcony of your room, sitting on the rattan chair you just bought a few days ago. silence ensued the room.

i tried to write your name in the rain, but the rain never came, so i made with the sun, the shade

you were used to jungkook being like this. he was always unreadable but then it was very obvious if something was bothering him. you opted to put his shirt on and head out to see him, hoping to get some words from him. as you came out, jungkook’s eyes darted towards you, mouth agape as he sees you in his shirt, a soft smile etched to his lips and you mirror this.

he tugs your arm and you sit on his lap. his smile fades as he takes his next drag, before sending you into a coughing fit. he hears this and immediately presses the bud on the floor. “sorry i’ll clean that later. and i’m sorry, i know you hate the smell of it.” he soothes your arms and brings you closer to him.

always comes at the worst time, you ask me what i'm thinking about, i tell you that i'm thinking about

“it’s okay. what are you thinking about?” you ask him, and he knows you’re seeking for a proper answer. he sighs. “just about everything, you know how it is.” at this point he was trying to divert the issue, forgetting that he came here to talk about it in the first place.

“you can tell me anything, you know that right?” you gave him a kiss in the cheek for reassurance. you knew something’s bothering him, in fact something had always been bothering him since the first time you two met. he was a hard book to read, but easy person to help. even though you knew you and jungkook were friends – more than friends less than lovers, you could see through him. it took you some time to realise his love language was words of affirmation.

“you’re gonna tell me what’s bothering you baby,” he darts his eyes to you, you never called him endearing names outside of bed. your eyes were telling him something, and he thinks he’s read you enough to know that you’re not gonna leave him in times of despair. “i’ll be here to help you get through it.” he looks to the front, his arms circling your waist to bring you closer to his chest. “i don’t know y/n, is there something wrong with me? i’m constantly afraid.” he didn’t even need to spell it out for you, you knew where this was going.

whatever you're thinking about, tell me something that i'll forget, and you might have to tell me again, it's crazy what you'll do for a friend

there was no denying that jungkook had a reputation, one that probably would not sit well with parents who would want to protect their daughters from harm’s way. while jungkook isn’t necessarily harm’s way, he isn’t the best person to be with either. he’s tried out relationships but it’s never worked out. he’d chicken out and either ghost the poor girl or just let himself engross in the life of no strings attached, when he clearly wants his strings attached. he’s stuck in a limbo, knowing that he has issues of commitment yet desperately wants to pour out his all for only one person. his biggest fear is that they would leave him, considering he’s made a mess of himself and his life, and he is not even sure whether he’s going to feel content with anyone. he wants stability but is afraid to give it. he wants eternal love but is scared of commitment. he wants to give someone his all but is afraid of them taking it and leaving halfway because he’s too much to handle. you knew where his fear stemmed from, and it’s no denying that it was hard to get him to overcome it. in recent times, he’s began to embrace that he has strong feelings for you but kept building this invisible wall inside him.

“you just know how it is baby,” his voice was timid, and you felt the urge to tell him it’s okay, it’s alright, it’s not going to happen to you – what came out was just a sigh from you, and you hugged him, fully enveloping your arms around him, planting a kiss on his head.

go ahead and cry, little girl, nobody does it like you do, i know how much it matters to you, i know that you got daddy issues

“you need to know that nothing’s gonna happen to you once you open your heart up kook,” your voice was soft. you traced your finger around his tattooed arm and his biceps flexed. “i want to,” his statement sounded like a plea, almost saying i want to give you the world, but don’t hurt me. ironically, his reputation of a fuckboy was the unhealthiest coping mechanism of his fear of monogamy, to hide his fear of loving and not loved back in the same magnitude. but you were not going to feed that into his thoughts anymore. “you know i love you don’t you kook?” you stated, whispering into the crown of his head. it was as clear as day that the two of you had feelings for one another, feelings that go beyond the bedroom but you knew that he was never gonna let his guard down.

“i love you, so much, y/n.” this time, you could feel him tearing up but you didn’t budge. you let him. “i want to give you everything, i want to always protect you; i will do everything i can to make you happy,” his voiced strained, almost as if he had been choking in his words for some time. “i’ll give you my all, i want to just… fuck, i’ll do everything you want me to, just…” this time he looked up at you, and your heart clenched at the sight of his tearful eyes. you felt yourself tear up too.

he knew you wanted him; he knew you wanted stability. the moment he saw you crying one night after getting dumped by your ex, you poured your heart out to him, detailing how you only wanted to be cared for, but your ex felt that you were ‘high maintenance’ and that you were demanding. all you wanted was to be loved. you overworked yourself most of the time, you had a family to care for, you were mentally exhausted all the time and your only escape was hoping that someone would love you the way you loved everyone and sacrificed yourself for everyone. you were the type to seek solace in your significant other, that was your coping mechanism and possible happy place, and jungkook knew that. he wanted to give you that.

and if you were my little girl, i'd do whatever i could do, i'd run away and hide with you, i know that you got daddy issues

his love for you soon grew into desperation. there were many times that he wanted to tell you that he would be on his knees for you if you wanted him to. he was yours for a long time, but to get you to be his, he was fearful. fearful that he would disappoint you, and that would mean a lifelong of regret for him. he wanted to give you the life you wanted, but he hated the anxiety within him. he was just as fearful as you.

he tried forgetting you, forgoing the idea of pursuing anything romantic with you but you were like a drug to him. you became the air he breathed in, the warmth of your body became his home, the sound of your voice became his sound of comfort.

i keep on trying to let you go, i'm dying to let you know, how i'm getting on, i didn't cry when you left at first, but now that you're dead it hurts

he tried distancing himself, ghosted you for two weeks. he thought he made progress but he couldn’t handle the sight of other men around you. he just knew that they were not able to love you as much as he loved you. you needed to know that you needed him and him only, forget everyone else. and who was he to deny the fact that he needed you? he was down bad. in a drunken fit at one of the frat parties, he remembered lunging across the living room floor just to yank you away from this guy who seemed to be new, because everyone knew you were off limits – even though you weren’t his girlfriend. he was toxic like that. the poor boy was trying his luck for sure but to no avail. at least he didn’t get punched in the face by jungkook just like another guy did two months ago.

“get your hands off of my girl,” he hissed at the guy before dragging you away, heading upwards to his room. you tried to pry your hands off of him but his grip was strong, jaw clenched and you knew he was seething. “what the fuck jungkook?”

it wasn’t the first time jungkook displayed his jealousy and became territorial in public. deep down he was insecure, afraid you might find what you wanted in someone else because he wasn’t able to give it to you at that moment. he told himself in due time he would let his insecurities go but time seemed to be ticking and his insides were tumbling with fear every time anyone attempted to hit on you. he couldn’t do it yet - commitment; but one thing for sure was he needed you. if he couldn’t convince you about that yet, the least he could do is scare everyone else away. he knew it was selfish of him, an unhealthy obsession if you will. but he was too scared to love you, and he was even more scared that you will never measure up to his love for you. he needed love, so badly.

he slammed the door shut before throwing you on the bed and climbing onto you. his breath reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. he held your jaw tightly before inching is face closer to yours. “i don’t like you being near other men.” his eyes were dark and raging, but if you looked longer, it falters into sadness and pure pain.

“you’re not my boyfriend,” that was the first time you said it and he felt a pang in his heart. it was a sensitive topic for both of you and you knew it but it had to be said. “i’ll show you who i am to you by the end of the night,” he dived straight into your lips and that was the first time he made love to you, and needless to say, you knew who he was to you. he was yours, and you were his.

this time i gotta know, where did my daddy go? i'm not entirely here, half of me has disappeared

fast forward to the current situation, the two of you met each other’s tearful gazes and he can’t help but inch forward to kiss you.

“please let me be yours,” he pleaded in between kisses. “you always have been, kook,” the kisses became fiercer, and your bodies moulded together as you melt into each other.

“i love you so fucking much, i don’t want it to be like this anymore.” he was determined this time to show you he was going to commit. you knew it was hard for him, considering he grew up idolising his dad and the love his dad showed his mother, until one day he came home and saw her crying for the first time – his dad no where to be seen, just a single ‘i’m sorry’ carved into a torn up paper, held down by a paperweight made from several books. that was the last memory he had of him.

that was the first time jungkook felt what heartbreak was and he never recovered from it. that was the first time he feared loving someone and being loved. he never wanted to feel what his mother felt, and feared the ability to hurt someone like how his dad did.

go ahead and cry, little boy, you know that your daddy did too, you know what your mama went through, you gotta let it out soon, just let it out

“show me how much you love me jungkook, right here,” the balcony was dark, the view in front of you only showed the city street lights. there was barely anyone at this hour, not to mention you lived in the 10th floor. “i’ll show you baby, fuck i’ll show you everything.” his fingers grazed down to your uncovered folds, which was already dripping in essence. the two of you were insatiable when the chance arose and this time was no exception.

he played with your clit, rubbing in slow and fast motions. you instinctively spread out your legs and he inserted two fingers in, lips still attached to yours. “fuck, so fucking good,” you moaned and his boxers started to feel tight.

“sit on me baby,” he lowered his boxers a little, spread his thighs further on your rattan armchair and took out his hard cock. you faced him this time, eagerly sliding into him with ease, and started to bounce on him. “that’s right baby girl, show everyone who you belong to, who’s the only one that makes you feel this good.”

you stifled your moans by hiding your face in the crook of his neck, your arms wrapped out him as you continued to bounce on him. he left wet kisses on your shoulders before he started to piston his hips upwards, fucking you just as much you were fucking him. he brought his thumb over to your clit and you felt your orgasm building up. “gonna cum baby,” you whined and jungkook increased his pace. moments later, your walls started to contract from the stimulation as your orgasm washes over you. jungkook unloads into you before kissing your neck.

“i love you so much.” he looks into your eyes. “i want this, please,” his tears pooling in his eyes again, his brown irises shaking behind the liquid barrier. “i want this so much, forever,” the fear slowly escaped his eyes in the form of tear droplets. “forever, always, don’t leave me.”

go ahead and cry, little girl, nobody does it like you do, i know how much it matters to you, i know that you got daddy issues

“i love you too, so much,” you nodded and mirrored his expressions. “forever and always, together,” and for the first time ever, he felt that spark of reassurance that what you said was true, and he finally let you in. and you found solace in the place you craved for, his heart.

and if you were my little girl, i'd do whatever i could do, i'd run away and hide with you, i know that you got daddy issues, and i do too

if you were my little girl, i'd do whatever i could do, i'd run away and hide with you, i know that you got daddy issues, and i do too

a/n: okay this was sad but good to write

read the sequel right here: part 2 !

#bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fics #bts fanfics #jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook #kpop smut #kpop fic #bts fic #bts au #bts scenario #jjk smut #jjk #jk #bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan

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bibluebutterfly · 7 months

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I’m sorry, but y’all are sleeping on Asmodeus’s angry form. A lot of people are calling it “a slightly bigger flaming monster”, not really holding a candle to Stolas’s or Bee’s forms.

But here’s the thing, Ozzie’s form is not “slightly bigger”. It actually looks to be around the same size as Bee’s.

So let’s get into it.

Here is our reference photo

Okay so from this we can gather that Stolas is more or less around twice Loona’a height.

Now right off the bat, we know the Deadly Sina can change their size, looking at Bee’s party form to Ozzie’s little form

But here’s the jist, just because Ozzie has a bigger form doesn’t mean that‘a his full form.

Let’s look at when he and Stolas are just talking.

He’s already a few heads taller than Stolas (and anybody being taller than Stolas is something we are not used to let’s be real lol), but at least Stolas can reach his chest.

But when he’s full on angry and about to go beast mode, Stolas barely reaches his WAIST.

But here’s the thing: it DOESN’T stop there. In fact it looks like Ozzie is growing with every frame as he gets angrier.

Now it’s kind of hard to guesstimate the exact height due to this angle, but Stolas is DEFINITELY not reaching Ozzie’s waist anymore. To be safe, let’s say Stolas is now at Ozzie’s thigh to hip.

And even though we can’t see Stolas in this last frame, it looks like from their surroundings that Ozzie by now is reaching a little past midway to the ceiling.

And if you look at the first pic, you know that they are not in a small room. But even if you can’t see Stolas clearly, I’m pretty sure at this point he is only reaching around Ozzie’s upper thigh.

Now let’s go to Loona. She is half Stolas’s height, so therefore she would reach about the upper mid to his shin

Bring in this pic

Okay, so off the bat Bee is HUGE. And after a closer look to her full body, let’s be safe and say standing up, Loona reaches about the lower mid of her shin.

That would place Stolas right above or at her knee.

Now Bee is still bigger than Ozzie, but considering the difference is like knee to thigh, I do not believe that anybody should be sleeping on Ozzie’s full form. He’s still huge, and towering over Stolas, who is normally the biggest in the room.

Also, I feel like it’s worth mentioning that Ozzie was likely still holding back in this scene because there are people in his palace, and he cannot afford to get bombarded by the media asking questions about Fizz’s kidnapping or calling him out for allowing himself to get blackmailed. So even though he’s pissed, he’s still in control.

Is it bad that I would like to see what it looks like when he loses control?

Anyway, even if it is his full demonic form (which I still highly doubt) stop saying Ozzie’s form is “slightly bigger”, cuz it is wayyyy more than that. Dude is POWERFUL, and even though he holds back a LOT in this episode, you can still tell that Ozzie is not somebody to mess with.

#helluva boss #fizzarolli #fizzmodeus #fizzarozzie #helluva boss asmodeus #stolas #helluva boss loona #helluva boss beelzebub #helluva bee lzebub #helluva boss ozzie #ozzie helluva boss #helluva asmodeus #helluva ozzie #long post

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melrosing · 29 days

Note

Do you think Jaime sincerely regrets what he does to Bran despite only thinking of it once?

ya of course. I think something that maybe needs to be said more often (particularly regarding Jaime’s POV but also broadly applies to others) is that you are not always going to see a character doing the workings that lead them from point A to point B. you have to fill in some of the gaps yourself and surmise the changes in thinking that have taken place offscreen.

The Jaime and Bran thing is a good example of this. we can gather from the scene in which the push takes place that this isn’t something Jaime wanted to do, but felt compelled to: he helps Bran up when he initially falls, and when he asks Bran his age etc a reader can gather when rereading the scene that this is Jaime trying to make time as he deliberates what he’s going to do next. then ‘the things I do for love’ is said with ‘loathing’. already we have plenty to determine that Jaime was not happy w this line of action, but felt he needed to take it.

then we get the AGOT-early ASOS scenes where Jaime comes across as a cut and dry villain and does nothing to help himself, half-jesting to Bran’s own mother about what he did and demonstrating no remorse whatsoever. shocking on first read but a rereader should be able to go back based on what they learn of Jaime later on and realise that he talks differently to what he feels, and maintains this darkly careless front specifically to avoid digging up his true feelings on difficult subjects. this is made apparent over and over again.

then there’s a big gap where Bran is neither mentioned nor thought about by Jaime, when suddenly right towards the end of the book he declares himself ashamed of what he did. so now the reader realises that Jaime has been thinking about what he did, even whilst we haven’t read those thoughts. and then looking at how the act was performed in the first place, we can realise he’s always been ashamed of what he did, has just been telling himself and others differently for his own complex reasons.

I think there are a lot of people who can’t accept that character work sometimes takes place off the page as well as on it, and a character won’t always declare every step they take in a new direction, but sometimes a certain line here or there will tell you that that work has been taking place. if executed well, this is just good writing: it’s boring having the writer spell everything out for you, good books should feel like you’re working with the writer to build the full story.

a lot of people do want it spelt out though lol, you see that a lot with discussions re Jaime, because I’d say he’s maybe the most ‘show don’t tell’ character in the series. and like I always say this isn’t fuckin Paradise Lost or whatever you do not need a degree to crack it but idk like. reading is a skill?? spend any amount of time in asoiaf fandom and truly u will realise that some people just. well they haven’t honed that skill yet lol

#ask #jaime lannister #asoiaf

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batbabydamian · 4 months

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🦇🐥 Batman and Robin (2023) #5 rambling and a conspiracy theory lol

tbh this is the most exciting issue for me since…the first one 💀 i’m going to talk about the story and art separately because Nikola Cizmesija’s one of my favorite action focused comic artists so this issue’s a treat 😭

Alfred used to mediate during a lot of Bruce and Damian’s early relationship, so it’s refreshing to see Bruce take more initiative involving himself in Damian’s life even if it’s for a case lol

a couple instances of Alfred’s fatherly support on behalf of Bruce and Damian from Batman and Robin (2011) #2, 4, 39 and Teen Titans (2016) #1

Damian seems to take Bruce's involvement more as a sign he’s not reliable rather than Bruce finally just. being around to help him. which is fair 😭

this is complementary to Cizmesija’s art, but i love this half of the page so bad 😭 the negative space and the shaded foreground with Damian mid-run gives this feeling of time kinda stopping for us to really feel the impact of Damian’s entrance AND the effect it has on Bruce, like!! that wide eyed expression in the below panel!! 😭

Bruce’s quiet “you can do it, son” to A FULL BODY CHEER OF “GO, DAMIAN!” Bruce witnessing Damian be great outside of Robin, and on top of that it’s just another mundane moment that Bruce has wanted with Damian 😭

this is such a goofy bully line sdfgh though the whole “broken” bit might be a callback to Batman and Robin (2011) #1, in that Bruce is really trying to do his job as a father here or i'm likely reading way too into it

SO the “shocking ending” of Zach being Zsasz’s kid was definitely a surprise but then got me wondering what is up with Williamson doing reveals of new kids for villains lol otherwise, the hints in the issue were neat!

the tally marks!! at least tallying blocks is pretty innocent compared to kills 😭

and Damian would recognize how Zsasz moves, since he’s personally fought him before in Streets of Gotham (2009)!! very much not in a sport, but uh maybe it was to Zsasz

the art!! first a shoutout to the colorist Rex Lokus for giving Damian his green eyes and maybe melanin (it didn’t look consistent throughout so i say maybe)!! 😭 also a Talia by Cizmesija!! even though this panel calls her a “not great” teacher…💀

SUCH A FUN PAGE 😭 i’ve been into montage scenes lately lol and i love how quickly Cizmesija establishes Damian’s routine - Tues, Wed, and Fri are the funniest for me!! Damian grumpily getting lectured by his teacher in the foreground while his classmate’s still visibly steaming from the hit he took LOL, DAMIAN’S BUG EYED STARE WITH HIS SUNGLASSES UP, and then Damian looming. stealthily. in a tree. while some kid is blatantly pointing him out HAHA 😭

Cizmesija’s use of motion lines and effects when conveying movement is so cool!! the shonen manga vibes jumps out!! the smoke/dust trails following the movements; the limbs and soccer ball having a sort of blur effect with the motion lines. V COOL.

which leads to my favorite part of Cizmesija’s work - HIS IMPACT SHOTS!!

more motion lines and effects!! the splatter effects!! the arcs!! the jolting impacts!! GRRAAHH!! the setup to that impact shot of Zach's block is so great, and then following with Damian's reaction!! i almost wish that "???" wasn't there, just because that expression of stunned silence already feels so loud!!

last thoughts about Cizmesija's art is that i'm really hoping for a showdown between Damian and Zach next issue because i need to see a Damian fight scene in Nikola Cizmesija-fashion 😭 we get a taste of it with Orca and soccer but i NEED MORE LOL for now, dropping the moment when Damian overpowers Zsasz, in Batman: Streets of Gotham #11 since it was such an epic moment

okay SLAPPING MY CONSPIRACY BOARD!! so on another note Principal Stone being Shush is starting to feel like a red herring and Ms. Heather Hall could actually be Shush. Shush’s main point about Damian as his instructor was emphasizing how much potential he has, but the “wrong” influence could affect that

Stone and Hall have made the same observation about Damian’s potential, but the difference is how they address that - one wants Bruce to be more involved while the other wants Bruce to back off

Stone acknowledged Damian can take care of himself but still wants Bruce to step up in Damian’s life; Hall says it’s okay to be a helicopter parent BUT implies giving Damian space (which we already know Bruce has given so much of after Alfred’s death to the point of neglect 😭)

Hall even suggests moving Damian on to college, which would estrange Damian further. also idk how Damian kicking his teammates/bullies asses at soccer is really “making friends” lol

and of all the subjects she’s teaching, it’s AP Biology - according to the current case Batman and Robin are working on, which is centered around DNA-sequencing, it makes Hall the perfect accomplice to Langstrom

this is where my brain started reaching because i laughed at first at how specific that comparison is, but then it just made me think of how Shush’s first introduction was sniping Bruce LOL anyway, Bruce’s reaction is me 😭

one more Cizmesija appreciation panel - the lil running effects behind Damian :)

#rambling #CONTINUING CONSPIRACY THOUGHTS adding an anomaly like Zach to the soccer team would justify Damian joining them #otherwise he’d join and then he would find nothing but soccer if Stone really isn’t Shush #if im wrong then WHOOPS LOL i do find Ms. Hall's support for Damian sweet so i wouldnt mind tho Damian being wrong would suck asdfg #now that i think about it Damian going to college would be a neat development. let him study to be a veterinarian or artist or smth lol #the other action focused artist i would LOVE to see give Damian a fight scene is Daniele Di Nicuolo 😭#I EAT HIS ART UPPP #where Cizmesija is heavily shonen manga influenced Nicuolo is heavily shonen anime influenced esp like Trigger studio artists YUM

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ladytauria · 4 months

Text

to celebrate hitting 50k i'm sharing a snippet of the longfic i'm currently working on <3 (thank you v much to both @deepwithintheabyss and @paprikadotmp4 for the encouragement & brainstorming help <3)

still untitled (i've been calling it the "aob dubcon fic" lmao) but i have written a summary:

Jason tries to sell off his first heat to make ends meet for the upcoming winter. When he’s taken by traffickers instead, he’s sure that’s the end of him—until he’s rescued by a mysterious alpha. That “rescue” comes with a price: Jason’s heat hits shortly after, and… one thing leads to another, and now Jason and Tim are bound together by a fledgling mate bond. It’s not the first time Jason’s had to make the best of things, but… he finds it a little bit easier this time, especially as he grows to genuinely like Tim. Unfortunately, just as they're starting to settle into mated life, Tim’s ex-pack starts getting involved, and they don’t exactly approve of Tim’s choice in mate—never mind that it wasn’t really a choice at all.

cws/tags for this snippet: reverse robins, aob dynamics, underage jason (15), first aid, medical inaccuracies (probably; i'm not a doctor, so i'm warning to be safe), hurt/comfort, touch starvation, anxiety, allusions to captivity related ptsd, self-deprecation, brief memories of non-consensual touching

editing to add: this snippet takes place in the 2nd half of chapter 2 <3 (& was originally the second scene for the fic lol)

i have also previously shared a snippet of the scene after this, when jason's heat hits, here.

Tim parks outside of an old apartment building. The brick facade is worn, cracked and peeling in places. Most of the windows are intact at least, though; two of them have lights on, the rest dark.

Tim gets out first, already having rounded the car by the time Jason is swinging his legs out. His hand rests on the door, waiting patiently for Jason to join him on the sidewalk. Then he shuts it. One hand rests on Jason’s back again, a gentle guide inside.

There’s a man at the desk near the front entrance, reading a newspaper. He spares them a brief, bored glance before going back to it.

There’s an out of order sign on the elevator, so they have to take the stairs. It’s just two flights, but by the end, Jason’s slightly out of breath. He’d thought he was in pretty good shape, but—

He guesses spending nearly a week in a small, windowless room hasn’t done him any favors.

Tim stops at a door in the middle of the hall, unlocking it and letting Jason go in first. The main room is all one room; living room transitioning to kitchen, separated by an island counter. Tim guides Jason to the couch, directing him to sit while he gets the first aid kit.

The couch is worn but comfortable, cushions sinking under Jason’s weight, cradling him.

Tim disappears down the hall, and returns a few moments later holding the biggest first aid kit Jason has ever seen. Not that he’s really an expert on the things, but— The one at his house was pretty small.

And mostly empty, honestly.

The coffee table looks comically small under it. It makes Jason’s belly flip with nerves, remembering the feeling of latex covered hands on his body, spreading him open.

He bites his lip.

Tim doesn’t open it, though; instead, he slips into the kitchen. He comes back a moment later, holding a bottle of purple Gatorade. Then, he kneels in front of Jason. It’s—odd. Having an alpha kneel in front of him, voluntarily. Even though Jason knows he doesn’t exactly have any power here, the visual dissonance is—

Odd.

He offers up the bottle. It takes a moment for Jason’s hands to move, but he does take it. His fingers fumble with the cap; he flushed, embarrassed despite himself, but gets it open.

As soon as it touches his lips, his thirst hits him full force. He allows himself two large gulps to wet his throat, and then forces himself to slow down, sipping instead.

When he screws the cap back on, he finds Tim still there. Waiting. He twists his hands around the plastic nervously.

“Alright,” Tim says gently. “Other than the bruise on your side, and the rope burns… are you injured?”

Jason shakes his head, twisting the sleeves of the alpha’s jacket. “Nn-nn. Just some bruises,” he says softly. He pauses. “And, um. I did hit my head once. It still hurts, but— I’m not, like, dizzy or nothin’.”

Tim nods. “Alright,” he says. “I’d like to do a head injury evaluation anyway. I’ll just feel over your skull, and then use a penlight to evaluate your pupil dilation. I’ve got cream for the rope burns, and for the bruise—” Tim hesitates a moment, then continues, “I’ll need to check and make sure nothing is cracked, and there’s no internal bruising.” He pauses again. “As long as there’s nothing serious anywhere else… I have some painkillers you can take, when we eat.”

Jason takes a moment to absorb all of that, and then nods, tipping his head forward obediently.

There’s a part of him screaming at himself not to be so compliant. To kick and claw and scratch and bite and fight, the way he has been for the past week. But he’s— He’s so tired, and sore, and—

The alpha smells so good, and— The smiles he keeps giving Jason melt something inside of him. He wants to keep seeing them. Keep earning them.

Tomorrow that might scare him.

Tonight—

His eyes fall closed when Tim’s fingers slide into his curls. The touch is achingly gentle. It feels— It feels good. Nice. Jason can’t help but lean into it. He thinks Tim’s hands linger a little longer than they need to, like he’s indulging Jason’s obvious enjoyment of the touch.

He does pull away eventually. Jason bites back his whine, instead sitting back up against the cushions.

“No bumps,” Tim murmurs. He gets out the penlight next, and cups Jason’s face as he shines a light first in one eye, and then the other. Jason grimaces, hissing a little as he squints. The light aggravates his aching head. “Pupil dilation is normal.” He pockets the light, and strokes Jason’s cheek with his thumb before he pulls away. “Now, I need to check your bruises.”

Jason bites his lip again. The constant worrying is starting to make the top layer of skin break and flake under his teeth. He averts his eyes, rolling the sleeves of the suit jacket up, exposing his hands. Then he pulls his shirt up, bunching it up just beneath his breasts.

His stomach jumps when Tim touches him. Tim pauses, hand hesitating, just barely touching Jason’s skin, and then— He starts to rumble, low and deep.

Jason whines. He doesn’t mean to—but it bursts from him; he can’t stop it, can’t muffle it. It’s a soft, helpless little keen, and the alpha’s rumble gets louder in response. He scoots closer, until he’s between Jason’s knees. His hand settles onto Jason’s skin, curving around his side. His other hand comes to cup Jason’s shoulder, thumb rubbing gentle circles through his clothes.

“It’s alright,” he soothes, the rumble deepening his voice. The sound—

Jason has only vague memories of his father rumbling for him, from when he was much, much smaller. Before working as a henchman had stolen much of his father’s good will. Other than that, Jason has only ever heard alphas rumble on TV. It’s—

It’s a really nice sound.

Against his will, tears fill his eyes, and he raises his hand, pressing his palm over one, like he can force them back inside. Tim’s hand settles against his side, just underneath the bruising. “You’re alright,” the alpha murmurs. “It’s okay to cry, pup.”

Jason sniffs, loud in the quiet. “I—I—”

“Shh, puppy.” Tim’s hand doesn’t leave Jason as he rises, slipping onto the couch beside him. His other hand cups the back of Jason’s head, tugging him forward—Jason’s arms come up automatically, wrapping around Tim’s neck, his shirt falling back over his abdomen. The alpha’s scent drips with comfort and the promise of protection and Jason—

He feels… He feels warm, and safe, and—

A sob rattles through his chest. Tim holds him closer, tighter, his arm winding around Jason’s waist. He buries his nose in Jason’s curls, stroking his skin with his thumb as he rocks him, slowly.

Jason’s chest heaves. His whole body shakes with each sob, so much that Jason is worried he’s going to shake himself apart. Tim’s steady hold feels like all that’s keeping him together.

It’s not just the last few days, it’s— It’s everything, since his Mom got sick and Dad turned to working as henchman and their lives just… fell apart. He’s— Jason’s been on his own for so long. Longer even than he’s been on the streets. Every day has been a fight for survival and Jason—

Honestly, he thought he’d finally lost.

Tim murmurs in his ear. Jason can’t hear a word of what he’s saying, but the tone is low and gentle, and Jason clings to it.

It takes a long time for Jason’s sobs to subside. Jason— He doesn’t know how long exactly. But he does know that when he’s done he feels exhausted. He slumps into Tim’s chest, tremors still running down his spine. His face is sticky. He definitely got snot all over Tim’s nice shirt, and that—

He’s too tired to even worry about Tim’s reaction.

Fingers comb through his hair again, lightly scritching his scalp. He lets out a soft sigh, slumping even more against the alpha’s chest.

Tim hums. He noses at Jason’s temple; a gentle nudge Jason grumbles at. “C’mon, pup,” he murmurs. “I still need to look at your bruises.”

Jason whines—the same plaintive little puppy whine he used to give his mom when he wasn’t ready to get up yet, for one reason or another. It makes Tim huff, amused; the humor reflected in his scent. It’s nice. Really nice.

He noses at Jason’s temple again. “Pup.” His voice is a little more stern. It’s not threatening, though—doesn’t even make Jason’s hackles raise. Tim is still rumbling. Close as they are, it feels like it’s seeping into Jason’s bones. It lessens the ache in him. His skin— His skin has been itchy for years, but. The creepy crawling of it has subsided, for now at least.

He’s comfortable. Jason doesn’t want to move.

He does anyway, sitting back with a scowl on his face. It makes Tim smile—his scowl deepens.

“I’ll be quick,” Tim promises.

Jason huffs a little. He leans back against the couch cushions. Tim’s hand is still under his shirt, sliding back over to the injured side as Jason lifts it. He feels— He feels more settled now. Less nervous, though butterflies still flutter between his ribs.

Jason watched Tim’s fingers probe gently around the bruising. The purple has started to fade to a greenish hue, but it still hurts when he prods it. Jason’s quiet, pained noises are soothed with soft rumbles and fingers rubbing his shoulders.

When he’s done, Tim’s hand lingers, laying casually on his waist. Jason’s skin would normally be prickling, but—

It isn’t.

It hasn’t this whole time, any time the alpha touched him.

“I don’t feel any cracks or breaks. Did— Were there any injuries to your back?” He’s no longer rumbling.

Jason misses it already. There’s a part of him that wants to snuggle up to him, see if he can’t coax that rumble back out.

He ignores it; instead shaking his head. “No. They— The, um, the boss said they were supposed to keep me as uninjured as possible. Any punishment had to be careful not to leave a mark.”

Tim hums. He strokes Jason’s skin with his thumb, and then slips his hand from Jason’s waist. It—

Jason finds that he misses it.

Tim leans forward, finally opening the first aid kit. It’s stocked, full of things Jason has names for and things he doesn’t. Tim takes out two things: the first, a small jar, and the second, a bottle of puppy’s Tylenol. Jason—he doesn’t like it, but he can’t really argue with it. Not at his size and weight and everything. They’re pills, at least, and chewable too,

Jason examines them carefully before he takes them, washing away the chalky flavor with the drink he’d been given before.

Tim unscrews the lid of the jar. The cream inside smells herbal, though not unpleasantly so. Jason holds out his arm, relaxing into the couch as the alpha works the cream into his skin.

It’s easy to let his eyes fall half-lidded. Jason is warm and sleepy. The air is thick with protective alpha scent; it soothes his hind-brain, the part that is purely omega, purely pup and longing for the comfort and safety of pack.

A small voice in the back of his mind is screaming, telling him he needs to keep his guard up.

It’s easy to ignore like this. To focus on nothing but gentle hands on his skin and the ambient noise around him; the hum of electricity and the distant noise of outside traffic.

Jason drifts.

He barely registers when the alpha switches arms, coming back up only to croon confusedly when Tim stops touching him. He blinks up at him, and gets a kind smile in return.

“Hush, pup,” the alpha soothes. “I’m going to get us something to eat.”

Jason blinks slowly at him and hums in acknowledgment. Tim gets a blanket from—somewhere, and lays it over him. It’s soft. Jason likes it. He nuzzles into it, into more of the alpha’s scent, and sighs.

He can hear Tim moving around in the kitchen—the clatter of dishware and pans, the bubbling of boiling liquid, the sound of his soft footsteps. He can smell something savory—chicken, he thinks, and garlic.

He drifts again, stirring only when Tim nudges him gently. A steaming bowl of soup is pressed into his hands.

“It’s hot,” Tim warns, a bit unnecessarily.

Jason still burns his tongue on the first mouthful. He doesn’t care. Having the food in front of him has made him realize how ravenous he is. His bowl is empty far too soon, though he’s too stuffed to go back for seconds.

His empty bowl is taken from him, and then Tim returns again. “C’mon, pup,” he murmurs. “I’ve got a spare toothbrush you can use. A spare den, too. I’ll get you some nesting materials and pajamas while you brush your teeth.”

Jason reluctantly leaves the couch and blanket behind, shuffling down the hall and into the bathroom. Tim procures a toothbrush for him, and then leaves.

It’s a relief to brush his teeth.

His captors had done it for him, so rough his gums had bled and ached. They still bleed under Jason’s gentle ministrations, but at least it doesn’t hurt. By the time he’s rinsing his mouth, Tim has returned, a bundle in his arms. He offers it to Jason.

“Clothes,” he says, a little unnecessarily.

Jason takes them, and Tim leaves again, giving him privacy. Jason goes to shut the door and then—

Hesitates.

He doesn’t want it open. But— He doesn’t…

What if he shuts it, and it won’t open again?

He’s. He’s being silly.

There’s no way this apartment has more than one bathroom. Trapping Jason inside here would be dumb, and he doesn’t think this alpha is dumb.

Jason takes a deep breath. He shuts the door.

Except—

He doesn’t. The latch hits the frame and Jason stops. His heart thunders in his ears. His breaths come sharper, quicker. He can’t. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Tears burn in his eyes.

It’s not fair.

He rests his head against the frame; one hand cradling the bundle of clothes to his chest, the other gripping the doorknob.

God. He’s so fucking pathetic.

He shudders. Takes a deep breath. It shakes on his exhale, a tremor in his chest. It’s fine. He doesn’t have to shut it all the way. He can leave it like this, with the metal latch over the door frame, only the tiniest sliver of hallway visible.

It’s fine.

He’s fine.

Jason strips quickly, clothes falling into a puddle at his feet. He yanks on the pants the alpha provided. They’re a little short at the ankle, and he has to draw the drawstrings all the way out for them to stay up, but. They fit well enough.

The shirt, too, is a little big, hanging off slightly at one shoulder. It doesn’t show his breasts, and hangs down to his mid-thigh, so Jason doesn’t mind.. Both pants and tee are soft on his skin, not scratching like the other set did.

There’s a hamper. Jason drops his old clothes in, though he’d much rather see them in a dumpster somewhere. The jacket—

Jason hadn’t realized how much it had been comforting him until now. Without it, he feels almost naked. Exposed. He wants to put it back on again. He resists the urge, though. Instead, he straightens it as best he can, then folds it in half and lays it on top of the hamper before he exits the bathroom.

Tim isn’t in the living room any more, and Jason stands, nibbling on his lip. Maybe he should go for the door… but. He can’t bring himself to. Instead he stands there, uselessly, until he hears rustling further down the hall.

He approaches tentatively, and finds Tim in the den at the end of the hall.

Tim glances up when he hears Jason approach, and smiles a little. “I was just getting out some nesting materials,” he says, gesturing.

In front of him is a cushioned nest base, held off the ground by a wooden frame. Piled on top of it is—

Jason had been expecting maybe a couple of blankets and some pillows, but—

The blankets are piled tall; the one on top Jason recognizes as the blanket he’d been using on the couch. There are plenty of pillows, too—and padding, for added layers, and cushions, and, it’s… It’s a lot.

Jason’s throat feels a little tight. “Thanks,” he says, voice small.

“Of course, pup,” Tim says gently. He’s pulled his scent in tight now, but when he draws nearer, Jason catches a whiff of safehere and everythingsokay drifting off of him. His hand moves slow enough it would be easy for Jason to avoid it, but. He stays still, letting the alpha brush his knuckles over his cheek.

“Goodnight, pup,” he murmurs. “If you need me, I’ll be just down the hall.”

Jason nods. The alpha’s hand drops, and then he leaves.

The rest of the den… It’s not bare, but it lacks a personal touch. There’s a chest of drawers in the corner closest to the closet; a nightstand by the nest; and curtains hanging over the window. He shuffles further in, leaving the door open behind him.

He leaves the nest alone for now. Instead—

He goes for the closet first, opening the door. It’s bare inside, except for a thin layer of dust. Jason shuts it again. He opens the drawers, as quietly as he can. Empty as well. The den smells— Not stale, it’s definitely been used before, but. He catches the barest hints of alpha scent, and other than that… It just smells clean.

Jason rubs at his eyes.

No more putting it off.

As much as he doesn’t want to… Jason doesn’t shut the door all the way. Instead, just like in the bathroom, he leaves it open the tiniest sliver. Anything more, and he won’t be able to sleep. Anything less—

Panic.

Even the thought makes his heart race.

Jason rubs his face. He hates this. He hates it so much. Fuck. Sometimes it feels like life is just out to get him. Like—someone or something out there wants him to suffer.

Stop it. Plenty of people have it worse than you do, he scolds himself. He’s safe right now, or— He has the illusion of safety, at least. The alpha is being nice. Jason is— He’s not bound up. The door isn’t locked. There are no bars on the window. Tim treated his injuries. Held him when he cried. Gave him food and something to drink and soft clothes.

And he’d given Jason plenty of material to make a nice, comfortable nest to den in. One that might finally satisfy the instincts that have been screaming at him.

Jason takes a breath, and pads over to the nest. The sheer amount of material before him is almost overwhelming, but… He goes through it slowly. He starts with the padding, layering it into the nest base and using the cushions to help give it shape. He tests it as he goes, until he has something that’s plush, but not so much that it will engulf him. He works a nest cover over it. It’s a bit of a struggle to get it on, but Jason manages; only a little winded by the end. What padding and cushions he didn’t use—

He decides to put them in the closet, where they’ll be out of the way.

Blankets next.

Jason sorts through the pile slowly, rubbing each on his cheek. Scenting them. The one he used on the couch is the strongest scented; still thick with the contentment he’d felt in the alpha’s arms, and the protective, comforting scent Tim had drenched the air with.

He ends up using a little over half of the blankets Tim provided. The rest he puts in the closet.

Pillows—

Jason doesn’t use as many of them. He ends up putting most of them in the closet. And then, finally—

His nest is done.

He stands back, surveying his handiwork. He trills with pride, running his hand over the edge. His nest is soft. Cozy. It needs— It needs books. And— His fox. He misses his fox, the one his mom gave him. He kept it— He managed to keep it safe, all this time.

It’s probably gone now. Or ruined.

His eyes sting, and he swipes at them roughly.

Jason is so tired of crying.

He climbs into bed, pulling the blankets over and around him, snuggling down into the pillows. It feels—

Safe.

There’s something missing, though. Jason— He’s not sure what it is, but—

He’ll worry about it in the morning.

#jaytim #timjay #tauriawritesfanfic #aob dubcon fic #i'm so tempted to start posting even tho i usually prefer to wait till its done #ive broken everything into chapters; have a list of tags; wrote a summary...#i do not. have a fucking title tho #most of my titles were brainstormed for the 15k version!! which. hm. i *could* post that separately maybe...?#smth to think about #a n y w a y #hope u enjoy <333 #as soon as this fic lets go of the chokehold it has on me i'll get back to like #prompts & the other wips languishing in my docs #(and when i say chokehold i mean i started writing this around like... december 20th?)#(and you can thank abyss for THAT too bc this all spiraled from 8k of a genfic i showed them <3)

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nanaloveswo-men · 1 year

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a cookie for valentine’s day - erling haaland

pairing: erling haaland x fem!reader (there is any pronuns, so i think that this is maybe a neutral gender? but i wrote this thinking in a fem!reader, so i’m not sure lol)

summary: valentine’s day is near, so you decided to record a tik tok video where Erling and you are trying to bake one cookie.

warnings: fluffy, and a bit of swearing

author notes: i saw a girl baking a heart shaped cookie and this idea came to my mind

again, i’m not a native english speaker, so i’m sorry if there is any kind of error

word count: 1,1k

“oh my god Erling, just shup up!”

“Erling, could you please put a shirt on?” you asked looking right at your half naked boyfriend “No” he answered, not even giving you a glance.

You rolled your eyes, and instead of trying to convince him to dress up, you decide to get the last things you needed to bake the cookie. When you had everything done, you called for Erling, saying that you guys could start the recipe already.

Stil shirtless, Erling came downstairs, holding something behind his back, trying his best to not smile. You only shoot him a glance, quickly turning your attention back to the cellphone ir your hands.

“You aren’t going to put a shirt, are you?” you asked, already knowing his answer. “Nope, but I got a little surprise for you” Erling was still with his hands behind his back, clearly trying to hide something from your curious eyes.

“What is it?” you asked, finally getting out of your phone, and giving him your full attention.

Haaland ran up to you, his smile getting bigger when he was closer. You were just watching the scene, your brows furrowed in confusion and a lit bit of fun. When he was finally in front of you, Erling slowly took his hands off behind his back, showing to you what he was holding.

You couldn’t stop a chuckle when you saw his ‘little surprise’. “Yep, this is really awesome, i love it!” you said still laughing, looking right at Erling, who was enjoying your sweet reaction.

“Can you give me a hand?” Haaland was fast to help you, his hands working to adjust the iconic ‘kiss the cook’ apron around your waist. “Ok, it’s ready!” he said giving your ass a little slap. “I got one for myself too!”

Even though Erling didn’t need any help to put the apron on, you decided to give a hand however. Now you two were matching perfectly.

“I guess you don’t need a shirt now” you joked seeing him with only the apron covering his upper half. “I never needed one, honey” he teased you back.

You put your cellphone in the tik tok’s video mode, asking Haaland if he was ready. When he nodded in agreement, you started the recording.

“Hello guys! Today i’m here with my sweet boyfriend, and we’re going to make a valentine’s cookie!” you explained the situation looking at the camera. “As you can see, we’re already in the cook mode” you giggled talking about the aprons.

“Don’t wait too much from us, or else you’re gonna be disappointed” Erling warned. “Shut up, talk only about yourself, i’m a great cook!” you punched his arm, slight offended. “Well see that, love” he teased.

Actually, Haaland and you formed a great team, and without much mess, you two were able to finish the first step of baking a cookie: the dough.

Key word: without much mess, because of course, there was at least a little bit of a mess.

Half of yours and Erling’s face were covered in flour, and your kitchen counter has defintely had better days.

“Babe, stop!” you screamed at Haaland when he tried to throw flour into your hair “I’m going to drown you in this sink when we’re done” you tried to threaten him, but he was just laughing at you.

“Fuck off” you got as much flour as your hand could hold, and you threw everything at him “Babe! Look at what you did!” Haaland said when he saw the mess you had made.

Now, Erling’s hair, face and apron were dirty with flour. And your floor too.

“You deserved it” you tried to protect youself. “This is what you get when you are dating a kid in a adult’s body” you joked refering to the mess. “You are nothing better, honey” Erling said while he was passing his arms around your shoulders.

You sighed trying to hide your smile. “Ok, we are going to clean the kitchen and ourselves, so we can continue the recipe” you explained looking to your phone’s camera “I’m going to put the cookie inside the oven, so we can come back when it’s ready”.

“I hate you” you said when your cellphone wasn’t recording anymore “Love you too, babe” Erling asnwered, not even a bit offended.

After you two had cleaned everything, you went back to the recipe, now, the last thing to do was to decorate the cookie, and in your opinion, this was the best part.

The cookie was still warm when you and Erling started the decoration, and of course, you recorded every little thing he was doing, knowing that his fans woudl go crazy.

“I want to make a heart-shaped-cookie, babe” you said looking at your boyfriend “We can do it, love” he smiled at you “But i think that it would be better if you make it, cause you know, i’m no good at drawing” Haaland said, kind of ashamed.

“Don’t worry, i got you” you said already picking the knife you would use to make the heart shape “You can do it, you can do it!” he was cheering for you.

“It looks awesome” you were really proud of your work, even though it wasn’t perfect, at least it was looking like a heart “You are an artist, love” Erling was also proud of your work, because for him, anything you did was incredible.

“Now we just have to decorate it with the pink cream and the strawberries” you said more than happy. “What do you guys think of my work?” you showed your heart cookie in the camera “I think it’s really pretty for something that was made by Erling and me” you chuckled when you saw Haaland’s face. “I’m kind of offended now” he screamed and you just rolled your eyes.

“I’m going to finish the cookie with this cream and these strawberries, and we come back to show you guys the final masterpiece” you said and Erling nodded behind you.

“If you are thinking to try this recipe, I have to say: don’t try” you looked at your boyfriend with a choked expression, you didn’t believe he was saying this “Unless if you have an incredible and genius girlfriend like me” he finished kissing the top of your head.

“Oh my god Erling, just shut up” you said feeling your cheeks heating.

You stoped the recording so you and Haaland could finally finish the thing that took all of your afternoon time.

“I love it!!! Oh god, this is so fucking cute, look babe!” you almost screamed of happiness, your smile shining like diamonds. You were feelig like a child again, when you used to get proud by anything you made. “It’s perferct, love” Erling said amused by your happiness “You did such a good job!”

“We did a goob job, Erling” you smiled at him.

“This is the end guys, I hope you liked to see us trying to make a cute video together!” you said to the camera. Haaland was right behind you, with his long arms around you, holding you tight. “See you in a next opportunity!” you said bye and stopped the video.

“We should do things like this more often, love” Erling said hugging you “Totally agree, babe” you hugged him back.

#erling haaland imagine #erling haaland x reader #erling haaland x you #erling haaland one shot #erling haaland fluff #erling haaland #football fluff #football imagine #erling haaland x y/n

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dazais-guardian-angel · 8 months

Text

Okay, a good amount of time has passed, and after having seen this post by @weretiger-be-my-horse , I've been turning it over and over in my brain going absolutely feral over this concept. I need to expand upon my thoughts on this idea and all the evidence there is pointing towards it, whether that be actual tangible things, or purely strong vibes I have.

First of all, full disclaimer: I did not like the season 5 finale, and how it wrapped up the DoA arc. To say that I "disliked" it is putting it extremely lightly, in fact -- I absolutely hated it, and I am still, to a degree, in disbelief that I actually even watched those 24 minutes with my own two eyes, and that it somehow wasn't a complete fever dream. While I'm not going to go in long-winded detail into all the ways that I feel like the finale almost completely bastardized all of its featured characters and destroyed any and all buildup we've had going on in this arc for 50 some chapters now, because that's not the main point of this post, I will not make any attempt to hide the fact that the theory-crafting I'm about to pose here is partly influenced and prompted by how much I hated the finale, and how much I desperately hope that it will not end up being manga canon. Therefore, if you enjoyed the finale — and that's fine! — and don't want to read any negativity about it, then I would not recommend reading any further (I mean, you've probably already left by this point, which is fair lol), While obviously it's important that I be as objective and unbiased as possible when explaining my thoughts, some of my negative feelings about the writing will be a part of this analysis, even if this isn't going to be a full-blown rant. Just know that if you proceed.

With that out of the way, let me continue.

So. In the aforementioned post, the theory presented is that the anime may be operating on an alternate timeline, and that this will become evident once we read the upcoming October chapter, wherein things will go completely differently post-chapter 110 than they do in the final episode — probably for the worse, with the s5 finale intending to lull us into a false sense of security and make us assume that everything in the manga arc finale will wrap up as smoothly and consequence-freely(? lol) as it did in the anime one. It also suggests that the Fukuchi we see at the very end that sskk are fighting came from the manga timeline, where he won, and that he used the Book to jump to a timeline where he lost, the anime one, proven by the fact that this Fukuchi is wearing a mask with the same design on it as the mask Fukuchi is wearing on the chapter 110 DoA color spread/title page.

First of all, I want to note the fact that it's not just the mask design that's the same: the entire outfit is roughly more or less the same as well. It's not completely 1-to-1, because the anime can never fully match the intricacies of Harukawa's beautiful outfit designs, and the Fukuchi in this scene has the kimono half-off because of the... super saiyan mode he's in, but most all of the main pieces of clothing are there. Any small inaccuracies could also be attributed to the fact that Harukawa probably didn't have this finalized art ready back when this episode was being made, so the animators wouldn't have had the complete design to work off of. But in general, because it's all so similar, I think we can quite confidently say that the ending episode Fukuchi is meant to be the one from this manga art.

Also, people have pointed this out, but it's worth mentioning that the mask Asagiri wore at Anime Expo in July was referencing this Fukuchi. It's not a crucial detail, but it just proves more that Asagiri is a gigantic fucking troll, and that he clearly wanted to draw attention to this Fukuchi design. It's important. He describes the mask here as made in the motif of an ellipses inside a speech bubble... could that perhaps be referencing meta aspects, like the Book?

Next, I want to talk about the even bigger elephant in the room, which to me is the most damning and undeniable piece of evidence there is of the anime operating on a completely separate timeline from the manga:

This Fucking Hand™️

As we all know, in the anime, Fyodor injures his hand when the password input device blows up, and as we all know, this does not happen in the manga. In the last episode, Dazai claims that the final nail in the coffin of his impromptu plan to kill Fyodor relied on this hand injury: because Fyodor couldn't pilot his escape helicopter himself, he would ask one of his Meursault vampires to do it for him, unaware that Bram and thus this vampire was now on the ADA's side, and said vampire could kill him while his guard was down.

Ignoring how utterly stupid and contrived this plan is when you stop and think about it for more than two seconds, the fact of the matter is that something that initially seemed like nothing more than an odd but inconsequential anime original addition ended up snowballing into being the entire reason one of the big bads was brought down. If Fyodor hadn't hurt his hand, he wouldn't have needed another pilot, and so the traitor vampire wouldn't have had an opportunity to get near him and kill him without him expecting it even though said vampire was presumably with him as they were leaving Meursault, and was probably already a traitor by then, so there was plenty opportunity for him to still die. not to mention by Chuuya's hands at literally any time he wanted to, because Chuuya was coherent the whole time. Also there's absolutely no way Dazai could have known exactly what Ranpo would do, no matter how smart he is and how much he trusts him. idk it's fucking dumb, just roll with it. Therefore, putting aside all other variables for now, we can conclude that, on the most basic level, this signifies that no hand wound = no death.

And let me tell you, this hand wound bothers me. It really, really does. Because they focus on it a LOT — they go out of their way to draw attention to it MULTIPLE TIMES, from the moment it first happens to the end of the season. Fyodor even talks about it to himself, about Dazai being able to cause him tangible, visible, bodily harm, (something that, again, as far as we've seen, has never happened in the manga). Hell, even after Fyodor's death, they're still drawing attention to it, because his right arm is all of him that survives, and Dazai picks it up and gives it to Nikolai to do his hilarious sad little gay fondling of it played completely straight even though there's nothing straight going on here at all! It's like it's a big red flashing sign at all times going "you see this injured hand? This is important. Are you picking up that it's important? Are you taking note of it?" Why is that? Obviously, it serves to give us the lore crumbs about Fyodor and "that man", but that's hardly the main, much more glaring reason, as I've already mentioned.

Fyodor doesn't hurt his hand in the manga. Fyodor won't die here in the manga. I am so dead serious by this point about this, and it's not just simply the fact that this was absolutely not at all the time for him to die, or the fact that his hand is the reason for his death in the anime in and of itself, but how much EMPHASIS they place on this, and on the hand in general. What would be the point of adding something like this, if it's not meant to alert us to the fact that it has a major impact on how the story plays out? We all know Bones: they struggle to get right and include everything that's already there in the source material; they would never go out of their way to add something this noteworthy if there wasn't a very good reason for it, if it wasn't absolutely necessary. I've seen a few people bring up the fact that Fyodor gets shot in the shoulder by Sigma and that that could lead to the same outcome in the manga, but I disagree: although he has blood on his shoulder in the manga, it seems like the bullet just grazed the top of it, because his arm and hand appears completely functional afterwards (not hanging limp by his side or anything). But that doesn't even matter, because this isn't even about the semantics/logistics of how the hand wound caused Fyodor's death because again, it's a stupid outcome, or what could serve as a substitute in the manga — thematically, this is a textbook example of the butterfly effect. Countless parallel universes exist within this series, ones where even the most minute differences lead to a majorly different outcome: this just happens to be one of them. There's no reason to think it isn't, and there's no reason to not think that the anime wants us to clue into the fact that things only went as smoothly as they did on the Meursault side because of this wound; in other words, that things will go very differently in the manga thanks to the absence of said wound. They wouldn't have added it in the first place and put such clearly deliberate emphasis on it otherwise.

Things are going to happen very differently in the manga, at least when it comes to the Meursault crew (but then, if you assume that, you then naturally assume it all will be very different). This is the only conclusion one can come to with the presentation of this anime-only wound, combined with the fact that parallel universes are a very real thing in BSD.

I'm going to go on a bit of a tangent, so bear with me. I play a lot of visual novels, and although such concepts aren't really as original now as they were a while ago, some of my favorite and some of the very best VNs out there are the ones that break the fourth wall and make the visual novel branching route format directly intertwined with the story: you know, the ones where the characters go "if only I had done things differently, maybe everything would have turned out better...!" in a wink wink nudge nudge moment, and the ones where the characters are aware of the different timelines, even, or even have the ability to gain information from their selves in said alternate timelines to influence events in their current one (I'm intentionally not naming the games I'm thinking of for the sake of spoilers, but if you know, you know lmao). It gets very meta in this regard, and this is how I started viewing BSD through the lens of ever since I first learned about Beast: like a visual novel with many branching routes, and only a few routes that feel entirely "right".

When I first read Dazai's Entrance Exam, I was struck by how unnerving the ending sequence in the abandoned hospital felt. Obviously, Kunikida's internal struggle over Sasaki's actions and motives is him still desperately clinging to his ideal world that does not exist, but the specific type of phrases he uses — "who is wrong?" "[who is] the cause of all this?" "there has to be an ideal world" "there has to be something, I'm sure of it" "There must have been something we could have done!" — and the framing of the scene in general, is eerily reminiscent of a bad ending in a visual novel, to me. There's a haunting, looming, bleak sense that a different outcome could have been achieved, if different decisions had been made, or if things outside of anyone's control had been different... and we know that this is true, because in Beast alone, Kunikida never goes through the Azure Messenger incident, because Dazai doesn't have his entrance exam. Hell, you could even consider the anime's version of the Azure Messenger arc an alternate timeline in of itself, if you really wanted to, long before we even arrive at season 5.

When it comes to Beast, this timeline has almost the opposite feeling of what I described above, that I've also encountered in visual novels: the idea of a "good route" or "good ending" that still doesn't feel quite earned, or as perfect as one would expect. Beast is presented as the "ideal" timeline purely for one sole reason: Oda is alive. It is the only timeline where he's alive, and keeping Oda alive is the ultimate goal Dazai wants to achieve, the only reason this timeline exists; therefore, disregarding all else, Beast should be the best timeline, because Oda's death is the greatest devastation in the series to date. We all want him to live, so why wouldn't the timeline where he does be the best one? And yet... of course, it isn't. Dazai is alone, and steeped in darkness and loneliness without Oda, and dies by the end of the story for Oda's continued living. Atsushi has Kyouka still, but he's suffering and more traumatized, and unable to heal while stuck in the mafia, and neither can Kyouka. Akutagawa is living a much better life in the ADA... but without his sister, and without what he has from his bond with Atsushi in canon, that isn't replicated in Beast. And Oda... Oda is alive, and he has his children and his novel, but there is a feeling that he is aimless, that something in his life is missing. He has everything he ever wanted, but all that means nothing without what he truly needs: Dazai, and his time with Dazai and Ango at the bar. In this way, things going well and us getting what we want — in this case, Oda living — goes against how it's supposed to be, the natural order, which is why it feels so hollow. In the specific visual novel I'm thinking of here as a comparison (again, shoutout if you know), there's an alternate ending that involves you inputting information you gain at the end of the game very early on in the game, wherein the protagonist now has memories of the future and is able to bypass and prevent all of the events that take place normally. This means that people who die or are hurt somehow in general are saved from that fate, and nothing bad ever occurs; everything wraps up neatly and nicely... but again, there's an undeniable, unsettling feeling of emptiness, of a victory that rings hollow, because what's the point if everything is simply handed to you easily, where's the sense of accomplishment, without any struggles to achieve said victories, or any growth along the way? How can it feel earned if one doesn't have to, in Dazai's words, "scream within the storm of uncertainty, and run with flowing blood"?

You can probably already see where I'm going with this.

This finale feels weird. Really, really weird. It feels too cheap, too simple, too unsatisfying. So much so, in fact, that for almost the entire runtime, as I was bombarded with resolution upon resolution one after another, I kept thinking "There's no way this can be real. Where's the catch? When is the "gotcha!" moment gonna happen? The "it was all a dream" reveal?". And this isn't just because I hated the writing, and that it really did feel like a fever dream watching fanfic levels of bad (actually, that's an insult to fanfic writers, tbh; they could do better) — no, it genuinely feels so incredibly fake. Even upon rewatching it and already knowing what happens, my brain still naturally keeps expecting some kinda of "sike, you THOUGHT!" moment to suddenly appear. It just.... feels "too good to be true". Dazai and Chuuya come out unscathed, and it's revealed that they were never in any real danger to begin with. Fyodor, one of our biggest threats, is dealt with supposedly for good (I say "supposedly" only because of the Jesus line, but if anything imo, I think that's just a hint that this won't be the canon ending in the manga, so in a sense he's going to "come back to life"), and Nikolai seems somewhat at peace with his death. The other biggest threat, Fukuchi, is also dealt with, and he and Fukuzawa get their final moment together of closure. Yes, Sigma is left in Meursault don't even get me started on how angry this alone makes me, and Fukuzawa loses Fukuchi, but overall, everything is portrayed in a positive light, and any negatives or losses are quickly glossed over. Everything is tied up nicely, neatly, and smoothly. ...And that is exactly what makes it feel so wrong, and hard to trust in.

I'm not sure if this will make sense, but to me, the finale is so incredibly poorly written that it almost feels.... intentional. It's so bad to the point of feeling self-aware in how bad it is, how unrealistically happy and convenient an ending it is. It had to end this neatly in order to rush to wrap up this arc for the season finale and not leave the last episode on a cliffhanger — which imo is chiefly the main reason it turned out this way, and, if this whole theory is true, Asagiri just used it to his advantage — and I'm not saying this was probably an effect Bones had in mind intentionally, I'm sure they just threw shit at the wall and went with whatever stuck, maaaaybe with some suggestions/approval from Asagiri, but the result is that you have a conclusion that contradicts so much of what was set up before and goes against so many character arcs, making some characters so out of character and even regressing in their development Dazai. I'm talking about Dazai abandoning Sigma, because he would never; hashtag #NOTMYDAZAI. Also Nikolai, Nikolai for most of that is so ooc I can't even begin to describe it oh my god. Everyone is OOC to a degree though lmao, and opens so many plot holes, to the point that it's impossible not to watch all that and get the feeling that it is subtly saying to you "did you really think it could be this easy? It feels wrong, doesn't it? It doesn't feel satisfying. It feels unearned." I find it incredibly interesting and suspicious in particular that they confirmed multiple theories people had about soukoku in Meursault: that Chuuya slowed the elevator's fall so that Dazai wouldn't die from it, that Chuuya slowed down the bullet so that it only penetrated Dazai's skin and not his skull, and that the both of them used Fyodor's camera angle to their advantage because they knew he wouldn't be able to see certain things from his view. I'm not saying that Asagiri trawled BSD twitter and tumblr after those chapters dropped for the most popular theories before the final episode was made lmao, there was no time for that (imagine though lol—), but I do think it's highly likely that he already had in mind exactly what theories would be made about these parts (I mean, the evidence for the gun scene was all there), and that Dazai rattling them off in his long monologue to Fyodor at the end is essentially him speaking to the audience and going "yeah, that's what you would predict, right? Those are the clichés, after all", much like him suggesting earlier that he can maybe bring Chuuya back to himself with a few moving words and the power of friendship, and Fyodor using the split personalities trope to fool Sigma. We expect these tropes to be true. Of course we'd fall for them, as Fyodor tells Sigma, especially if the evidence is right there. But Asagiri himself has explicitly said that he likes doing the opposite of what people expect. And so just because people predicted correctly with the three things I mentioned in this timeline... doesn't mean they'll be true in the manga's. Things happened how we wanted and expected it to, and everything turned out happily. So we can relax now, right? Everything will work out just as easily in the manga, right? Or... is the reason most of this finale feels so fake and unsettling and unsatisfying because it's meant to lull us into a false sense of security before all our heroes lose in the manga? Because deep down, we don't want an ending that's this simple, because we'd rather have a conclusion where our characters have struggled more and grown more and come out the better for it, and we know it?

After rewatching the episode a lot, and watching some other videos, and doing a lot of thinking, I am pretty confident in suspecting that the only part of this finale that is actually from manga canon, aside from Aya jumping off the building of course, is Fyodor and Nikolai's exchange after Fyodor leaves Meursault — specifically, them talking about Fyodor leaving Sigma behind, and their "new game" and Nikolai being excited at the prospect of it. This little conversation actually feels in character for them, and it's easy to tell this when contrasting it with everything that happens immediately after, wherein Fyodor is fatally stabbed, and Nikolai, completely at odds with what he was just talking about, just... stands there and watches Fyodor die while Dazai monologues lmao. I'm not sure if the helicopter is still a factor, but I would bet good money on Fyolai getting out of Meursault being manga canon, and that Dazai and Chuuya getting out as well and killing Fyodor + everything with FukuFuku, is part of the anime original ending, in order to wrap up everything positively. It makes much more sense if you think about, in reality (aka in the manga), Dazai and Chuuya still being left behind in Meursault (where they can eventually try to get Sigma), because none of it was an act and things did not go according to plan, and Fukuchi having an entirely different goal that doesn't feel so stupid and contradictory to his character, and Fukuzawa possibly dying — everyone seemingly loses, with Aya still being the last hope, perhaps by awakening her ability like we all speculated.

There's a youtuber I watch who covers BSD in-depth, despite being an anime-only (she reads the respective manga content after each season, though). Going into this finale, she knew about the fact that the anime had overtaken the manga, though she didn't know where the cutoff point was; despite that, however, she made predictions about what was from the manga so far and what was anime original, and it was almost entirely spot-on, based mostly on what she basically described as "anime original dialogue." She talked about how you can always tell when dialogue is veering into the realm of anime-original, because the sentences are very short, choppy, and slightly out of character, but generic enough to not be TOO out of character, and so that anyone can easily write said lines, even if they're not extremely familiar with the character like the original author would be. And when I heard this explanation, everything clicked — because so much of this finale has dialogue like that. The Fyolai scenes just feel peppered with it, around the lines I mentioned earlier, the Dazai dialogue does too, and ESPECIALLY shit at the end like Fukuchi and Fukuzawa exchanging the cliche death lines to end all death lines: "Are you there? I'm a little tired." "Rest up." That just isn't Bungou Stray Dogs. That isn't Asagiri. BSD is cheesy at times, yes, but it isn't like this; it's smarter. The dialogue is smarter, the explanations/plot twists are smarter, Asagiri is smarter, and the aforementioned youtuber I watched agreed. She's a pretty casual fan of the series, so if even she could pick up on these things, I think it speaks volumes.

I mentioned this briefly earlier, but this theory makes sense if you consider that this situation probably came about because of Bones wanting two seasons back-to-back when they did, and this arc being as long as it is. Season 3 aired in 2019, and I imagine Bones would have wanted season 4 in 2020, and might have then been willing to wait a bit longer for season 5 in order for more of this arc's manga chapters to come out — but then covid happened. Because of that, season 4 was delayed to 2023, creating the longest gap we've had between seasons, and I wouldn't at all be surprised if the delay made them want season 5 right together with it, after getting so far "behind", so to speak. S4 was announced in November of 2021, and roughly around that time, Asagiri was finishing up writing the plot of the DoA arc. If Bones came to him sometime in late 2021 and said they wanted two seasons now (so basically, one giant two cour season), Asagiri would know that not only of course would this arc not be finished publishing in the manga for a very long time yet, but that roughly 20ish episodes would not be enough to cover it all to the end, with this arc being longer than any arc the anime has adapted to date. Because of all this, and the arc manga chapters being nowhere near fully drawn to completion, he'd have to make a decision about what to do, and what to give Bones. Without ending season 5 on a massive cliffhanger that wouldn't be resolved for years until an eventual season 6, the only other option would be to rush towards an anime-original ending for the DoA arc.... and for Asagiri to take advantage of that, and integrate it into BSD's lore. Thereby creating a truly unique cross-media experience that utilizes the different mediums to create multiple timelines, that could make both the anime and manga interact with each other and become part of a bigger picture (not that you'd need to see both to get the full experience, mind you, just that it'd provide a little bonus if you did).... and would without a doubt be Asagiri's biggest surprise yet.

...I feel like at this point I'm starting to ramble, and my evidence become more and more incoherent and less substantial lmao, so I should probably end this post. 💀 Thank you if you've read this far, and hopefully it made some semblance of sense, despite not being structured very well; I know I promised at the start to try to be as objective as possible and curb my negative feelings, but I'm not sure how well I succeeded in that regard. If it weren't for the Fukuchi thing and the Fyodor hand thing, I probably wouldn't take how wrong and strange and bad the finale feels to me as serious evidence about it being an alternate timeline, especially since I seem to be one of the only people who actually hates all of it.... but combined with everything else, I am just so convinced of this theory being true. It started off as pure copium, but as more time has gone on, I fully, 100% believe in my bones (ha) that there is no way that finale is the same Bungou Stray Dogs I know and love, for so many reasons. It just isn't. It can't be. I know BSD better than this, I know Asagiri better than this, and I know that it's absolutely in the realm of possibility for him to cook up this whole scheme to completely blindside us with in the upcoming chapters, because that's exactly the kind of shit Mr. "Please Be Surprised!" himself would pull. If I end up being completely wrong, I guess I'm wrong, and you can laugh at me all you want then.... but I just know that ages ago people were teasing the idea of the anime operating on a different timeline from the manga, and I truly do think that only now are we finally seeing that idea come to fruition, as a setup for Asagiri going full-bore insanity with the Book in the upcoming arc(s). if I and the OP of that theory end up right, this will be the wildest time in the BSD fandom's history.

Like. I cannot even emphasize how hard they are trolling us at this point. Something is going on. Something is being cooked over there, the likes of which we've never seen before... and I don't think any of us are ready for it.

Oh yeah, and one last thing of note: both Fyodor and Nikolai here have their right arms hidden from view. Is that alluding to anything? I'm not sure. I also think that since chapter 110 was so short, next chapter will likely be 110.5 instead of 111, and if that's the case, this title spread could still technically be associated with the next chapter... wherein we might see this Fukuchi, who ends up wreaking havoc, right before he jumps to the timeline in the anime, as we see him at the end of the s5 finale.

I guess we'll find out on Tuesday.

#bungou stray dogs #meta #bsd season 5 #bsd s5 spoilers #alternatively titled 'when you copium so hard out of stewing in your denial anger and grief that it becomes reality'#is it still copium if there's strong evidence for it? idk #i DON'T know what i'll do if the stuff in this finale ends up being canon :))) make no mistake about that #but until the very moment the schrödinger's cat box is opened and i am forced to acknowledge it with my own two eyes in chapter 111/110.5 #i am choosing to stay calm and rational and look at things with a sound mind... and acknowledge all the signs that are there #of which there are so many #Asagiri is a troll. he has always been a troll and this is more evident than ever lately #and he would know that everyone who watched the finale would take it at face value #never expecting it to go completely differently in the manga #and he's so much smarter than what was in that finale. he would never write those things. i would stake my life on it.#i don't care how many flaws BSD does have that i do acknowledge; he is a good writer in so many ways and he is so much better than /that/#i could fill an entire BOOK (ha ha) with all of the reasons why this finale does not work. seriously it is a never-ending can of worms #of ooc characterizations and plot holes and abandoned threads and straight up CONTRADICTIONS with what has been stated before in the arc #with fukuchi's motivations and presentation; with things that were happening in meursault; just.... so much illogical shit in general #THE MACHINE HEALED THEIR WOUNDS??? ARE YOU FOR REAL????#*sigh* but i said i wasn't gonna rant alskdjgfkdls #tbh though the only REAL thing i need to know that the finale was anime only was what the youtuber i watch pointed out:#that Bram magically regenerated all his clothes. because if it were Asagiri Bram would be naked from the shoulders down fjdkslsaskd #...anyway. This theory is real and true. I am manifesting it into existence 🙏🙏🙏#Asagiri my man...... you have never let me down yet in all the years I've known your series. Please don't let me down now.#I'm trusting in you more than ever right now...... and your ability to blow all our minds in the best possible way #(guys i'm really really really scared deep down; please hold me hahaha ahahahahaaaa- *cries*)#this would the coolest thing in the history of ever though if it happened though. I am SO EXCITED FOR THE POSSIBILITY!!!!!#ASAGIRI YOU SICK AND TWISTED MF; HOW DARE YOU MAKE ME BEG FOR MY FAVES TO SUFFER JUST SO THAT THIS BAD WRITING DOESN'T BECOME REALITY!!!!!!#he knows exactly what he's doing *SCREAMS* :))))))))

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beelzeebub · 1 year

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you most definitely have already got this ask lol but I would love to hear more about what you picture the plot of Goncharov (1973) is (and what your opinion on the very popular gonchrey ship as well!) I am so tempted to get a poster you would not believe-

Ok so about the ship Gonchrey or Goncharov/Andrey (who si played BY HARVEY KEITEL). In my own lore, Goncharov is the main protagonist and Andrey is the main villan (it's kinda obvious from the poster lol) so I'd totally get why people ship them bc people tend to ship heros with villains. But with everyone having their own interpretation of who the chracters are, I can't comment on other people's view of them.

And now the lore! I’m sorry if this sounds stupid or doesn’t make sense, I’m writing it in a hurry and I will extend upon this in future. Also, this is not a Martin Scorsese story. It’s a mine, let’s be honest. I’m not saying this to brag but I’m not all that interested in pretending this film is real. For me, they’re just my OC’s from a funny poster I made for my mutuals. I’m saying this because I’m not trying to emulate writing of the great Martin Scrosese who I love very much. I’m just some rando person who likes mafia and gangster things. Hope that makes sense.

Oh and before I begin, no clock, boat or bridge scenes or anything of that sort is in my story. All these things were created by someone else and don’t fit in my story.

The story takes place in Prague, Naples and New York

Some info about Goncho and Andrey:

So Goncharov is the main protagonist of the story. Not much is known about him, his origin is very mysterious but it is later revealed the crime boss Andrey had his whole family murdered for owing him money and Goncharov is of polish-italian origin (I'm not sure what I want his real name to be yet). In the story Andrey is about 10 years older than Goncho in order for this to work, the actors are the same age but the eyepatch ages Andrey up so it works. Murdering Goncho’s family was one of Andrey’s first things he did after his rise to power. And so basically the story is about revenge. Andrey is half czech and half italian and he operates from Naples but his crime ring works all over the world.

If you asked Andrey how he gained all his wealth and power, he would tell you it was through hard work and that he came from virtually nothing. That's a lie as his family was very well off. The extend of his wealth can be also attributed to all the blackmails, murders, abductions, frauds, thefts and other crimes he and his crime ring commited. Maybe these are the things that constitute as "hard work" to Andrey. Andrey is also a classist and something of an ethnonationalist as he often refers to himself as full blooded italian and rarely admits his half slavic origin.

Here’s some info about Katya and Goncho’s relationship from other ask (some info about Sofia too):

In my own lore, Katya is very much in love with Goncharov but is also tempted by Sofia. To Katya, Goncharov and Sofia also represent two very different ways of living. Goncho is a smuggler but an honest one and Sofia works for her boss Andrey’s crime ring. Being with Goncharov means living a dangerous life on the run but somewhere down the line there is a possibility of settling down and living life through honest means. Being with Sofia means choosing a simpler, cushier life, a life of luxury but it also means being forever part of the crime world. Who will she choose? I don’t know and neither does Katya :)

Also, I’m toying with the idea of Katya being married to Goncho (simply becasue I tagged her as Katya Goncharova a couple of times lol) but I don’t know yet :))

Info about Mario and Ice Pick Joe:

Mario and Ice Pick Joe grew up together in Sicily and were both very poor. They are not related but share somewhat of a brotherly bond. Joe’s darker side started to show from a very early age. He loved to kill and dissect small animals which sometimes freaked up Mario (although he never judged him for his impulses). Joe also talked about joining mafia from an early age, it seemed like a natural thing to do. He never imagined himself as anything else than a criminal. Mario is academically very smart. Joe often said to him that someone this smart could go study and make something of himself through honest job. But Mario was a very cynical person from an early age and thought that the only way people like them can escape poverty is through dishonest means. Also, Joe is just a joy to be around (if you’re not the animal or a person he’s dissecting), he’s funny, great cook, loves music, unassuming but charismatic. And it’s not just a front, he really is like that, he has two sides, one of them is very dark. Mario, as smart as he is, lacks the charisma and is aware of that. He is brooding and sulking and cynical. Lacks the social capital ... and friends (except for Joe of course). He also likes to go to casinos and gamble, not because he needs the money, but he likes winning and he likes the fact that other people’s social status can’t help them there. He’d never admit this to you but he secretly wants friends and wants to be liked but he is just so goddamn unlikable to the majority of people that no amount of wealth can help him with that. Mario was also always ashamed of his humble origin. When the two of them joined the crime world, they joined Andrey’s crime ring. Joe is very loyal to Andrey because he sees him as someone who gave him a chance and saved him from poverty. Joe became Andrey’s best hitman and is free to act on his darkest impulses. Mario became Andrey’s accountant, handling money. But unlike Joe, Mario resents Andrey because Andrey is a big classist and often and not so subtly lets Mario know that he would be nothing without him. In the story, Mario befriends Goncharov (the met in a casino) and will have to decide whether he betrays his boss or not. And will he be able to convince his best friend Joe to work against a man he is very loyal to?

The Naples side of my story is probably my most developed part as of now. I still don’t have everything figured out.

How Ice Pick Joe got his nickname:

Ice Pick Joe's favorite weapon of choice actually isn't an ice pick, despite many people assuming that's the case. He doesn't have a favorite weapon or a torture method. He likes them all. His nickname refers to one specific event that took place shortly after after he joined Andrey's crime ring. One of Andrey's highest ranking lieutenants was suspected of stealing money and giving up information to a rival crime lord. He was subjected to many hours of interogation and torture but still he would not confess. Then Joe asked to try. The only thing he took to the room with him was in ice pick. Nobody really knows what happened in there but it took less than 15 minutes for the lieutenant to confess how much he stole and what information he gave up. Andrey then used this information and destroyed the rival crime lord. This event prompted Joe Morelli to gain an immense amount of respect within the crime ring and ever since that day everyone called him Ice Pick Joe.

Info about Katya and her brother Valery:

Katya and her older brother Valery were born in Moscow but moved to Moldova after Katya's birth. Their moldavian mother died during Katya's birth and their russian father was very abusive but mostly absent. Valery is 20 years older than Katya and he basically raised her on his own. Valery became a high ranking officer in the militsiya (soviet police) at quite an early age, mostly due to his efficiency. He soon became disillusioned by the brutal soviet regime and defected to the USA, searching for a better life for him and Katya. He became a weapon smuggler and that's how he and Katya met Goncharov. Valery and Goncharov fell out during an event where Valery thought Goncharov had betayed him after a heist gone wrong (he didn't betray him, it was misunderstanding). He also hates Goncharov because Katya fell in love with him and choose to leave with him.

#lol why is this so long #i guess i wrote more about the characters than the story itself whoops #you dont have to read this as it doesnt really answer your question #im gonna copy this to my lore post #beelz lore #goncharov #unreality

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magicalrocketships · 1 year

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Hello hello I heard from em powerful-owl that you're you're cooking up a steamy and emotionall devastating maxiel fic with certain... elements 👀 and kinks 👀 and circumstances 👀 that I might be interested in (I've been being insane over in her asks about pillow humping, among other things lol idk if you've seen) anyway I just wanted to say I'm so excited for your fic! I want to wave my little pompoms and generally cheerlead you because I love our little f1rpf community and the,like, 2 things ive heard about this fic already have me blushing and foaming at the mouth. But. 😊😵‍💫 In a sexy way. 💖 (?? Hang on..pompoms... Maxiel au where max is a way-too-serious football player and daniel is a cheerleader and they have sex about it?? Is that anything) okbye 👍

Y E S, yes, there is a fic a-cooking which has SOME STUFF IN IT YOU MIGHT ENJOY, we can be our own little team of people going feral for a little pillow humping in a fic. In FACT, if you would like a snippet, then you can have one just now. It's basically lots of little snippets from a longer scene, so all the plot bits are gone because they'll make no sense without context, and there's just... you know. Max being a little bit raw at the edges from some plot stuff (not that there's MUCH of a plot, it's mostly 70k+ of Max figuring out who he is on and off the track, and where Daniel fits in) and being by himself in a hotel room etc etc. There's some metaphorical cheerleading by Daniel in this (no actual pom-poms were harmed) but there is a shared hoodie (and by shared, I mean, it's Max's now but it used to be Daniel's).

Max/Daniel, explicit, 2.5k.

Max drinks half a can of Red Bull, takes off his jeans, and puts on Daniel's yellow hoodie. It does not smell very much like Daniel anymore but it is nice that it is his - or was his, because it is Max's now, and Daniel is not allowed to have it back. Max tucks it over his nose for a moment as the screen loads on his TV, sitting down in the seat, controller in hand.

Then, carefully, as his game loads, he stands up and gets one of the pillows. He arranges it in the middle of the bed, lengthways. He lays down on the bed, dick pressed against the pillow, and gives his hips a little roll, just to see.

It feels nice. It always feels nice.

---

Max presses his hips forward against the pillow, holding himself there, squeezing his ass, dick chubbing up in his briefs. He likes this feeling, where his body is getting comfortable, dick getting hard. On the screen he scrolls through his saves to pick the one he wants to play, game loading. He could adjust his dick now that he's mostly hard, angle it so that it's pointing down between his legs because it's easier to rub himself off like that, but he's playing by his own rules and he doesn't want to touch. Anyway, sometimes it's nice to catch the side of his dick, rub a little to the left. It doesn't matter much. He just likes it all.

There's the first little blurt of pre-come, the wet spot in his underwear, the head catching and the material dragging as he presses his hips down. The pillow is going to get wet too, little damp patches as he gets more and more turned on and can't keep still. He deliberately does not speed up. This is his out lap. There's no benefit in going too fast. It can be a whole evening of out laps. No one's watching.

His hips move slowly, and he's up on his elbows for his game, but other than that he's lazy with it. He's not taken his socks off and his toes are pressed up the headboard. A hazy warmth spreads across his skin. He doesn't want to get too hot, otherwise he'll have to take Daniel's hoodie off, and right now he'd rather be in it.

He plays for a while, not his main play through of the game where he needs to focus, but on one he keeps for when he's not paying full attention. The whole time he's hard, rolling his hips down against the pillow. He gets so wet, even like this, even when it's lazy and there's no goal in sight and he's not even focusing all that hard. He just keeps on leaking even when he's not rushed, and right now his underwear is wet all around the tip of his dick.

His phone buzzes with a text so he pauses his game in case it is important. He rubs his dick against the pillow, a little side to side that makes him shiver as his underwear drags across his skin.

It's Daniel: what you up to maxy max???

Max swallows. His thumb hovers over the screen. He does not know what to say. He has not seen Daniel all day, and now he is-- well. He puts the controller down on the bed next to him and rubs his dick against the pillow, except this time with a little more intention. He hides his face in his hands. It feels so good. He shifts his knees so that he's at a different angle, going onto his toes so his calves are stretched out.

---

Did u show yourself a good time maxy

Max does not know what to say to that. It is a nice time. He likes it. It is just--

Maxxxxxxx are u doing it right now is that why u are ignoring me

Max chews his lip. He grinds down, hips rocking. It is not as nice as the pillow he has at home.

His phone starts to vibrate. It is Daniel calling.

Max, torn between embarrassment and a desperate need to hear Daniel's voice again, answers. Except-- it is FaceTime. Max is breathless and pink. What if Daniel is with someone, what if Daniel is not alone, what if--

Daniel is in his hotel room. "Did you come without me?" he asks, laughing, settling himself on the bed. "I told you that orgasms were a good thing, I said--" he stops. "Max. Are you doing it right now?"

"Are you by yourself?" Max asks. He's forced himself to stay still. On the screen he's pink and flushed and his face is blotchy.

"Yeah, of course. It's just me." Daniel whips the camera around to show Max the room. It's empty. "Are you jerking off?"

Max shrugs his shoulders. He is not not jerking off. It is just that maybe it does not count if Max is only fucking a pillow. It is not even fucking. It is rubbing his dick on something that feels nice. He is not even undressed.

"In my hoodie as well, I'm honoured," Daniel says. "You are though, aren't you? In my hoodie." His voice catches a bit. "Max."

"I am not touching myself," Max says finally. "I do not know if it counts. If I am not touching." He rolls his hips down, leaning forward a little so that the angle is better.

Max angles the phone down. The screen gets his chin, then Daniel's hoodie, then his briefs -- his one grey pair, so it is a hundred times more obvious that he has leaked in a big circle around his erection -- and him straddling the pillows.

"Can you see?" Max asks.

"I can see how hard you are," Daniel tells him. "How wet you've got. I fucking love how wet you get, babe."

Babe. "No. Can you see." Max rolls his hips forward so that his dick rubs against the pillow. His thighs are thicker when he's kneeling like this. He holds his phone in one hand and presses his fingertips into his thigh with the other. His hips rock forward; he has to squeeze his ass to stay like that.

"I can see you riding that pillow," Daniel says. His voice catches. "It's hot as fuck. Max, it's hot as fuck. I'm already hard."

--- (Daniel has come to his hotel room) ---

Max makes a face at him. "I am very glad that you are not showing your dick off to anybody you meet in the hotel, Daniel."

Daniel makes finger guns at him. "I save that only for you, baby."

"I am very honoured," Max tells him.

"You should be." Daniel hasn't touched him or kissed him or anything, but he looks a bit flushed and maybe like he wants to. Max does not reach for him. "Weren't you in the middle of something important?" He looks behind Max to the bed, and the messy covers and the pillows in the middle of it.

"I do not think it counts as important, Daniel."

Daniel makes a noise like a disgruntled hamster. It is barely a noise at all but the hamster has made its feelings known. "I think you coming is important. I also think me getting to see you come is important." He does not leave any room for Max to say anything back. "Glad we agree. Come on, chop-chop. Some of us want to wank watching other people rub one out on a pillow."

"You are very strange," Max says, but his entire body feels hot.

"That's what all the handsome boys say," Daniel agrees, patting Max on the ass.

Max flushes. "You-- you won't laugh?" There is only Daniel in the world who knows that Max is queer. That is his secret and it is nice that it is shared. But only Max knows how he likes to get off, and now he is sharing it and it is scarier than it should be. It is only an orgasm. It does not hurt anyone.

Daniel's expression softens. He reaches over and touches his fingertips to Max's wrist. "I won't laugh. Promise. I think it's really hot. That's why I ran down here doing my best impression of a tripod."

Max looks down at Daniel's dick. It is not big enough to be a tripod. He raises an eyebrow in Daniel's direction.

"Fine, fine, kick a man while he's down, tell him his dick's not worthy of being a third leg. I won't be offended." He flops down onto the chair, not seeming vaguely bothered that he's just sat on his phone and charger and hoodie. He cups his dick through his shorts. He's hard. He stretches his legs out; he's in his stupid mismatched shoes, barely laced up, and no socks.

Max climbs back onto the bed, straddling the pillows. He arranges himself so that his dick's trapped beneath him, going back between his legs, and he grinds down against the pillow, a delicious warmth trip-spilling across his skin as he gets himself comfortable. He still hasn't taken his underwear off. His hoodie obscures the view a bit. He fiddles with the cuffs.

Daniel holds his hand out. "Give it here and I'll wear it for you. It'll be like febreezing it except it's just a top-up of me and my very manly aroma."

Max pulls off his hoodie. He is getting warm in it anyway, and if Daniel leaves wearing it then Max will just go and get it back again. That hoodie is his now, regardless of who originally bought it. He is not wearing a t-shirt underneath, which is maybe why Daniel looks a bit like he's attempted to go backwards around the track as Max pulls it off then throws the hoodie at him.

---

"This how you like to do it?" Daniel asks, because he's never met a silence he didn't like to fill.

Max bites his lip. He's kneeling, fists pressed into the sheets. He does not think he could stop rocking down against the pillows now, even if Daniel asked. It gets like this, when he's almost done with the out lap, but he is not quite ready for a hot one. "I just like it," he says.

"Feels good," Daniel says, nodding. He's still cupping his dick, not jerking himself off, but looking like he wants to.

"Can I--" Max points at Daniel's dick. He tilts his chin up. "Show me?"

"As you wish," Daniel says, shuffling his shorts down over his hips. He shoves his stuff off the seat at the same time, so he's not sitting on his phone charger. His shorts and underwear are trapped around his thighs. It is very hot, seeing Daniel with his dick out. He is very handsome. Especially when he is in Max's hoodie.

Max grinds down into the pillow. His dick feels so good like this, trapped in his briefs, so, so wet. Now that Daniel is here and he is watching, everything suddenly feels more urgent, like he wants to fuck from now until he comes, no more lazily rubbing himself off.

---

Max fucks his hips forward. He blurts more pre-come into his underwear. Daniel's dick is so slick, and his hand around it lazy and wet with lube. Max chews on his lip, his mouth dry. He shoves at his underwear, pushing it down so that it is trapped beneath his balls, stretched tight and a little painful across his his thighs.

"God, I love your dick," Daniel says.

Max does not touch himself, even though he wants to. His dick drags against the pillowcase, leaving little damp marks on the cotton. "Yours is very handsome too."

"I know, baby." Daniel grins, but then his gaze goes back to Max's dick, at where he's rubbing himself off. "This is hot. This is how you come?"

"A lot of the time, yes," Max tells him. "I like it."

---

Max buries his fists in the pillows, holding himself up so he can fuck his hips forward, arousal drenching his skin. It is a good thing he has lost the hoodie because he is flushed pink and starting to sweat, skin blotchy with heat. The muscles in his thighs flex. He still dreams of riding Daniel's thigh, of rubbing himself off across Daniel's tattoos, of coming all over them. It is not-- they are not-- maybe he will still get to.

---

"You going to come for me like that?" Daniel asks. He has shoved the sleeves of the hoodie up, and Max can see the rose tattoo on his hand. Maybe when he comes on Daniel's thigh he will also get to come across Daniel's rose. Imagining that is very hot.

Max just nods, swallowing. He bites his lip again, because if he doesn't he'll make all kinds of embarrassing noises. He changes the angle a bit, whining through his teeth as the cotton catches his slit. He is going to come soon. All of that build up, multiple lazy laps as he played Playstation, is meaning that now it's flipped to a hot lap it's going to be quick. Top of the leaderboard. P1.

He's cataloguing everything he can about Daniel jerking himself off. The way way he cups his balls, switching from thumbing the underside of his head to jacking his dick; Max steals all the data he can, even as he ruts against the pillow, god, it feels so good, he likes it so much--

He is going to come, and he is going to come without even touching himself. He's going to come grinding down on his pillow with Daniel's eyes on him, with Daniel jacking off to him, because of him, in front of him. He is going to come.

Max fucks his dick into the pillow, his orgasm star-bright as he nears the edge. He can taste it on his tongue. He is not at home doing this by himself. He's with Daniel.

He comes, pulsing stripes across the pillow, head tipped back. He groans, breathless, even as he rocks his hips through the comedown, as his orgasm shivers across his skin.

He drops his ass back onto his heels, tilts his chin up. Meets Daniel's gaze defiantly. He has made a mess.

Daniel is still jacking himself off. His skin is flushed pink. He's too hot in the hoodie, Max can tell, but he's still wearing it, he's going to come in it, he's going to come in it and give it back, and Max is going to wear it and smell Daniel and he's going to get hard all over again.

"Fuck," Daniel says. "Fuck, Max. That was so hot."

"You should come, then," Max says. Then, after a beat: "You should come on me."

#my fic #fic i wish i was writing #fic I AM writing #first time in three years baby #maxiel #we're just going full on with pillow humping snippets today #nobody look at me #f1

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gnpwdrnwhiskey · 8 months

Text

Conversations with a Movie Star

Chapter 3 - And HBO

Pairing- Dieter Bravo x ofc!Ava

Word Count- 2.1K-ish

Warnings- I'm really not aware of any for this chapter? A little bit of foul language, one food mention, let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note- Technically still on hiatus but surprise!!, I finished something lol! I struggled a lot looking for connective tissue writing this and decided screw it, I'm just gonna put a bunch of scenes together and hope they still flow.....if this chapter had a theme song, it would be Myrtle Beach by Sunny Ledfurd and it would deserve it's own warnings, so I leave it to you to decide if you want to look it up, lol! Big thanks as always to @wildemaven for listening to me whine and supporting me as I figure out what I'm doing 💕

Ava falls into a routine over the next few days, one that as best as Dieter can tell is designed solely to drive him nuts. She's up early and over to the lobby, banging on the inner office door and yelling at him that the coffee's ready. When he manages to get off the couch- he really needs to stop crashing down here- and stumbles out to the lobby, she nags him about the whole lack of breakfast options situation.

And then she disappears for a few hours every day and Dieter goes back to sleep. Like a normal human being. It's like the goddamn Energizer bunny has infiltrated his space. She's just always doing something. It's exhausting.

He has brief moments where he misses the way Anika just worked around him and let him be and even if that was less tiring, he realizes it probably wasn't very healthy either. Ava is slowly breaking him out of the funk he's wasted the last two years of his life in and he'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit that part of him, a larger part than he maybe realized, enjoys having a purpose again. Even a small one.

She's already bullied him into cleaning up the back office, moving furniture and desks and filing cabinets for fucks sake, like he's used to this kind of manual labor all because she thinks it should be a functional space and not just his own personal little man cave.

"You can keep your big squishy sofa and your precious tv and your absolutely ridiculous hippo coffee table. But we're gonna keep them over there," gesturing to one half of the room. "And then over here, people can work."

And then she'd proceeded to go through all seven million filing cabinets she'd made him move- full of old tax records, and licenses and invoices and God only knows what else and then she hit paydirt, if you're into that kinda thing, which apparently she is. Scrapbooks and photographs and the original blueprints for the hotel.

"They always wanted a pool," Dieter muses, looking at the blueprints. "It was never in the budget. And they wouldn't take my money."

"You could do it now. In the off season if you wanted. Nothing stopping you," Ava shrugs.

She's right. He could. He tucks that thought away for later.

"Hey, Miss Rose?" Dieter asks from the doorway of Ava's room. "That woman staying here, the reporter, she bothering you?"

"No, baby, she just asked me some questions and took my picture. Said she's writing a book."

"A book?"

"Not about you, baby. She called it slice of life. Whatever that means," Rose laughs.

"Oh," Dieter relaxes a little bit but makes a mental note to ask Ava about that later. "What do you think of her?"

"You know the rules, baby. You wanna talk, you have to help me work."

Dieter does know the rules. Rose has been working at the motel since before his mom dumped him here and it's always been the same, if he wanted to hang around and pester her or any of the other housekeeping staff, he had to make himself useful.

Dieter sighs but he dutifully steps into the room and grabs the other side of the sheet she's just tossed on the bed.

"So, Ava?"

"You like her, baby?" Rose grins. She's always been able to read him like an open book and this time is no exception.

"Maybe," he admits sheepishly as they finish making the bed. "Which is just dumb right? It's not like she's staying, she's only here a couple weeks."

"Oh, I think you could sway her if you wanted to. That girl's looking for roots. She'd be a good fit for you, baby. Keep you on your toes."

"You think so?" He asks absently as he picks up various perfume bottles and lotions on her dresser, giving them all a sniff before sitting them back down and moving on to the next thing. He opens a drawer full of silky lacy underthings and his brain short circuits. Is this the kind of thing she's wearing under those tiny shorts he spends way too much time imagining peeling her out of? Good Lord.

"I did," Rose says, reaching over him to slam the drawer closed, barely giving him time to get his fingers out of the way. "But if you don't stop going through her underwear, I'm going to tell her you're a creep and she should stay away from you. What is wrong with you, Dieter Anthony! I swear you were raised better than to snoop through a guests things."

Dieter holds his hands up in surrender and starts backing out of the room, he knows when he's been beaten.

"Hey, DB, come play tourist with me."

"What?"

"You never leave the hotel, come play tourist with me. It'll be fun. We'll go to Peaches, get some hot dogs first."

"I was getting ready to watch Harvey," he whines.

"We can watch Harvey tonight. For the seven thousandth time. Please, Dieter?"

"We can't just leave the place unattended."

"It won't be unattended, Austin's here."

"Who the fuck is Austin?"

"Your new afternoon front desk help. You're welcome."

Dieter scrambles off the sofa and peeks out at the reservation desk and the scrawny sun-bleached blonde currently chilling with his feet up on the counter before turning back to Ava.

"You can't just go around hiring people and he looks like a bum!" He stage whispers.

"You're one to talk," Ava snorts. "He's not a bum. He's a lifeguard. And someone has to hire people around here."

"What do you even know about this person?"

"A lot. We hang out. He's saving up so he can go work at a ski resort this winter. Teach kids how to snowboard. He's cool. And smarter than he looks." Ava grabs Dieter's hand and drags him out of the office. "Now let's go."

Dieter reluctantly shuffles along behind her, glaring at Austin the whole time and the kid offers him a big bright white smile.

"Hey, Ava, check it!" Austin yells as they pass, pointing at the computer screen. "Spider solitaire! I can play, right?"

"Myrtle Beach, Myrtle Beach, Myrtle Beach. Goddamn, I love Myrtle Beach!" Ava sings as they walk along the boardwalk and Dieter laughs.

"No, do not get that stuck in my head, Ava. I'm begging you."

"Ha! But you know it, don't you? C'mon. It's so appropriate. You might've passed on the airbrushed tee-shirt but I saw you grab the saltwater taffy and it's bike week and we're missing the Pavilion."

"Everyone will always miss the Pavilion," Dieter agrees, looking towards the empty space that his mind's eye still fills in with the large sand-colored building that had stood there for most of his life. The shade and cool relief it offered from the scorching sun, the sounds of the arcade and the million games of skeeball played, tickets won and traded in for silly trinkets.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Dieter asks and Ava nods, leaning against the boardwalk railing and giving him her full attention. "I flew in to watch the demolition and cried like a baby the whole flight back to LA. No one knows that, I didn't tell anyone I was here. Not even my grandparents. I just....I didn't have a lot of friends growing up here, I was always the weird kid. But the couple I did have, we spent so much time at the arcade or the amusement park. The rickety ass roller coasters and the ancient carousel. Even just sitting at the fucking organ shooting the shit. I know they moved some of it, but it's not the same. It'll never be the same."

Ava studies him, lost in his thoughts, staring at an empty lot and seeing only the past. She likes this side of him. She likes how real he's been with her about things, not just today, but his willingness in general to humor her and answer all her questions about himself and his family and the motel and she impulsively leans in and kisses his cheek bringing his attention back to her.

"What was that for?" He grins.

"Just a thank you. For sharing that with me. So one secret deserves another, right?" She laces her fingers through his and pulls him a little ways down the boardwalk, stopping in front of the Gay Dolphin. "Behold- my most favorite place at the beach."

"Ava, no," he laughs. "Why here?"

"It's an institution, right? A testament to all that is cheap and tacky. The ultimate tourist trap," she smiles at him as they walk inside and Dieter swears his knees actually go weak. "It's cluttered and messy and an absolutely delightful maze of levels to get lost in and you never know what's around the next corner. Will it be novelty ashtrays shaped like sandcastles or porcelain clown figurines for some insane reason? You just never know! It's an adventure!"

Dieter's toying with the shark tooth necklace Ava insisted he just had to have- one of many "treasures" they left the Gay Dolphin loaded down with- running his fingers along the soft leather cord, feeling the rough edges and point of the tooth and then back up the cord while the credits for Harvey play out on the television screen and he knows any second now Ava will lift her head off his shoulder, stretch, and tell him she should go and he realizes he doesn't want her to.

He never really does, but it's different today, it's more than not wanting to be alone, left to his own devices. It's her. He wants her company. He wants her bright eyes and warm laughter, the way she teases him and banters without giving a shit about who he is, or who the rest of the world thinks he is. This whole ridiculous day of playing tourist with her has been the best day he's had in a long time and he's not ready for it to end.

"Hey, Ava, do you wanna have sex with me?" He blurts it out of a long ingrained habit but it's not really what he means and he struggles to explain. "I mean....just like you don't have to go....do you want to stay?"

Ava picks her head up to study him and then she grins, turning to slide a leg over him and settling herself squarely in his lap. Dieter trails his hands up her thighs, the way he's imagined countless times, tucking his fingertips right under the ragged hem of her shorts while she wraps her arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair and holy shit, he didn't ever imagine that would actually work on her.

"I really had a lot of fun today, but not tonight, movie star," Ava laughs. And then she kisses him. Soft. Sweet. Testing the waters. And God yes, is he receptive. And then she's pulling away way entirely too soon to suit him and he kinda hates the groan of disappointment that escapes him as she gathers her things and leaves the office.

Seems like she's always walking away and he's just sitting here like a dumb ass watching her.

"That's not a hard no?" He yells after her and the sound of her laughter floats back to him. He'll take it.

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter x ofc!Ava #dieter & ava #cwams #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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sopejinsunflower · 1 year

Text

a/n: ok so this started out with a completely different idea but when idk, somewhere along the way the plot kinda left the chat and it just screams horny horny brain is horny so yeah…but I had this idea ever since Arson came out lol I hope you guys enjoy it anyway. It has been sitting in my WIP since December and I honestly didn't do much editing or proofreading >.<

Title: Was actually originally called Devil May Care

Warning: 18+, violence implied, gun use, minor DNI

Summary: You are a very highly respectable business woman but your scene is less than…ideal. You need a new head of security but with a tight schedule, you have to hire someone with just the basic qualification. It’s all fine until you realise your new head of security is someone you’ve been masturbating to for most of your adult life. And to make things worse (or better), he knows you know.

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x you, Park Jimin

Tags: Employer-employee AU! Penetrative sex, masturbation implied, violence mentioned, slight Hoseok dom because no way I’m NOT putting that in.

Word count: 19k

You slam your bag onto the surface of your desk hard enough for the sound to jerk everyone upright, standing rigidly waiting for you to unleash your anger.

You raise your gaze, glaring daggers at the man standing across from you with his eyes downcast, hands clasped together in front of him. “Explain yourself,” you growl out in between gritted teeth.

He only purses his lips, unable to come up with anything. He fucked up, he knows, and as your head of security, he knows he’s about to get the axe. You don’t repeat yourself, knowing full well what happened and how it had happened but you just wanted him to admit it and he can’t even do that. Your instructions had been simple, and yet it had seemed to be a tall order for someone with twenty-five years under the belt as a security guard to high risk VIPs such as yourself; working in the diamond industry comes with its perks.

He had one job: protect you. When you are closing in on deals, most times the merchandise is already with you, hidden in secretly-sewn pockets to be retrieved once everything is signed and the payment method is handed over and checked. Payment method, because people don’t usually pay with cash, especially those black organisations that insist on meeting in dark dingy rooms or empty parking lots. And you can never trust them fully to not fuck you over during those meetings so his job was to make sure that there are no unpleasant surprises beforehand and if it does happen, get you out of there safely.

But here you are, standing in your office, half the guards smelling like gunsmokes, three of them currently being tended to by your private doctor for bullet wounds and there’s a thin, light scratch over your forehead and your shoulders are starting to ache from having to fire your own Glock while running. The situation had been far from safe and it all fell onto his shoulders. You check your reflection in the cabinet glass, huff and turn around. “Get the fuck out of my face. You’re fired.”

He gives you one last bow and walks out of the room, hands clenched in fists. You’re not an easy employer, even you know that, but you are fair and pay people five times the market rate, more than fair for the kind of environment they have to work in. But those high wages don’t come easy; you have strict criterias and requirements for both the roles and the responsibilities they carry. You’re not irrational but you have to maintain the highest vigilance not just for your sake, but for everyone involved. When you need job A to be done in a certain way, it must be followed to the T. Or things like this happen.

You heave a tired sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Without looking, you wave your hand to dismiss the other guards and plop yourself in your reclining leather chair, feeling a thousand pounds heavier than you did in the morning. To be completely honest, you had been having the same nagging feeling for a week now, leading to that meeting with the Ryuukai, the Dragon Organisation, but, then again, you always feel weird during the days prior to a black market deal. If only you’d listened more to your gut feeling, but hindsight is always fifty-fifty.

First thing’s first: you need a new head of security.

You rub at your face, sigh again, and call for your executive secretary. Park Jimin swishes in through the door not three seconds later and you look up in surprise. He’s holding a glass of water and an ibuprofen for the headache that’s starting up, his usual notebook clamped in his armpit. “How long were you waiting outside the door?” you ask, taking the glass and painkiller gratefully.

“Just right after Hank walked out,” he answers airily, sitting down in one of the velvet chairs across from you, crossing his legs and taking out his pen and notebook.

Jimin is in a three-piece suit but without the jacket and his sleeves rolled up. Honestly, he dresses like a boss himself instead of a secretary but working with you means he’s technically in charge of the whole office. His nickname is God’s Messenger because when he delivers your orders or instructions, the others obey without a word. He’s more of a right-hand-man, too, by how much you rely on him when you’re not in.

You place the pill at the back of your tongue and take huge gulps of the water to swallow it, almost finishing the whole tall glass. You sigh, sitting back, eyes still closed. “Why does it seem like you’re the only one who knows to do your job well? It’s so hard to find reliable employees these days.”

Jimin preens in his chair, sitting up straighter. “Well, first, I don’t seem to do my job well, I do my job well. Second, stop sighing like an old woman. Third, I don’t have any response regarding reliable employees but I’m assuming we’ll need to hire a new one?”

You nod, sitting up and letting out another long, heavy sigh much to Jimin’s annoyance. “Do you think you can find someone in two weeks?”

“You’re getting more and more demanding,” he says nonchalantly, writing down something in his notebook. “Two weeks, got it. Shall I put ‘psychic’ as the requirement?” At the confused look from you, he adds, waving the pen around, “Oh, you know, so he’s able to tell if a situation could go bad. Like Hank couldn’t.”

Your face immediately turns sour. “A thorough investigation would have been enough to avoid that whole mess,” you hiss, clenching the edge of the desk. “I almost lost men out there!”

Jimin suppresses from rolling his eyes. “Right, right. So someone thorough, got it. Two weeks won’t be enough time to find someone of your high standards. Are you sure you don’t want to postpone that deal with the Sumiyoshi?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “This meeting has been scheduled for months now. I can’t mess this up. They’re already pissed about the last botched merch from last time. And I’m still pissed about that.”

Jimin scoffs in between his writing. “Don’t worry. The guy is still paying for his mistakes until today in some basement out there. You made sure of that. I don’t know if we can find quality and reliable candidates in this short time but I’ll dig around. No promises, though.”

“Update me again in a week,” you tell him as he’s leaving your office.

He pauses in the doorway, leaning back to look at you. A genuine look of concern is clear on his face. “Go home and rest. You look like shit. I’ll handle things here.”

You give him an appreciative smile and pack up your things, wanting nothing more than a long warm bath and pulling your fluffy duvet over you so you can curl up and sleep in your empty king bed. You get home, get undressed and strut around naked in your apartment. You start to fill up the bath and while the water is going, you head for a glass of white wine in the kitchen, something to calm your nerves. It didn’t help much.

The bath beeps and you head to the bathroom, throw in your favourite bath bomb and watch it fizzle as you take a quick shower to rinse off; you hate the idea of sitting in your own filth. Then you step in and have about a fifteen-minute soak. The warm water helps soothe your aching muscles and your left hand, the one you use to shoot your gun, finally stops shaking. You add another bath bomb to the water but when you step out, you can still smell the gunpowder. You take a second shower and spend extra time rubbing your body with a loofah and washing your hair.

Satisfied that there’s no more smell, you pull on a comfortable satin slip, dry your hair and dive into bed. The thick, black-out curtains have been pulled shut and you’re hoping to take a nap but no matter how long you lie there, you keep blinking up at the ceiling, replaying today’s shitshow over and over again.

It’s not your first shoot-out, of course, but it doesn’t make it any less scary each time. The Ryuukai is known to be difficult but you’ve done deals with them in the past before and they have all gone smoothly enough. This time though, you learnt that there had been a shift in the organisation and there were new faces, even the middleman was someone you’ve never met before and not the person you talked to a month prior to setting up the meeting. Everything had felt fishy and shadier than usual and you wish you had followed your gut.

Your entourage had been ambushed. The Ryuukai had attempted to get their hands on the diamonds by force and your whole team had walked straight into a trap. When it was obvious they couldn’t find where the merchandise was, they chose violence. To be fair, Jimin was right; Hank couldn’t have known how that would turn out but there’s a reason one of his main responsibilities is to stake out and investigate every little detail ahead of the meeting. It’s to avoid things like this from happening because it has happened in the past. These measures aren’t put there for fun; they’re implemented so that every one of your men gets to go home to their families at the end of the day.

And three of them almost didn’t. Lawyers have been dispatched to deal with the families regarding the situation but you can’t help but feel it was avoidable. Hank had been with you for five years with no problems but lately his head has been out of the game. You’re not privy to his personal lives, literally not your concern, but the one thing you ask of your employees is that they don’t bring home matters to work. If Hank had been going through some tough shit outside of work, then he never communicated it. You’re not a monster; you would’ve taken him off of work without him losing his job or income if he had needed time to sort things out first.

You sigh and hear your secretary's voice in your ear about being an old woman. You roll your eyes to the ceiling. Your phone pings and you check the message.

Jimin: The families have signed the NDAs. It’s on your desk.

PING!

Jimin: Stop staring at the ceiling and sleep.

What the fuck?! Does he have a spy camera or something? You sit up in bed, paranoid, looking around the room.

PING!

Jimin: No, there’s no camera. I just know you too well (rolling eyes emoji)

You slap the phone face down on the bedside table after putting it on silent mode and pull the duvet back over your head. Nothing’s more frustrating than someone who is always right and knows it, too. One of these days you’ll find a nicer more submissive PA but you doubt it. He’s too damn good at his job for you to find any good reason to get rid of him.

BUZZ!

You groan out loud but grab the phone anyway.

Jimin: I had a food delivery schedule for around 7PM. I don’t think cooking will be on your to-do list today.

Too damn good, you think with a snort, putting away the phone for the last time because by hook or by crook, you’ll force that nap to come. Fifteen minutes later, after much tossing and turning, sleep still eludes you like a fish flitting through water. You’re still somehow high-strung, your brain refusing to forget today’s botched deal as it replays each scene for you to do a play-by-play; from the moment you notice the shiftiness of the Ryuukai’s men, the fact that you don’t recognise any of them, right down to the last moment of the shoot-out, you running, gunshots ringing in your ears until you’re safely in the car and Hank slammed the door behind you.

Then you remember something; your little emergency stash under the bed made especially for times like this. You crawl over to the edge, lean halfway off the bed and rummage around under there trying to pull out the little box. It feels a little childish to be hiding stuff in that old tin box, something you’ve had with you for a very long time, even now when you’re one of the most powerful figures of the underworld living in one of the luxurious penthouses in the middle of the city.

You pry open the lid and sift through the stuff in there. If anyone found that box, one would think it belongs to a teenage girl by the content: an old bookmark handmade from a laminated maple leaf, 16th and 21st birthday cards from old friends and families, a beaded bracelet, a few foreign coins, a few loose buttons, a few Polaroid photos faded with time. You ignore all the rest and pull out from the bottom an old and very well-used folded up poster. You put everything away and lay back on your pillow, carefully unfolding the piece of A3 paper.

Immediately you can feel the tension slip off of your shoulders at the sight of your favourite man in the world: Hoya, in all of his glorious nakedness besides the silver necklaces around his neck, the black masquerade mask that hides half of his face, and the little detective hat that he’s tipping over with that petulant smirk on his handsome face that screams, “Bet you wish you can have me, don’t you?”

Yes, yes I do, you think, this time with a wistful sigh, your eyes roaming his body, imagining you can put your hands all over those biceps and rock-hard abs and kiss that Celtic hope tattoo on his chest, suck on his fingers and suckle on his nipples before…your eyes move downwards, saving that view for last even if you’ve seen it a thousand times. It works every time like a charm.

You lie back onto your pillow, the poster in hand. This is from one of his earlier issues from a few years back and by far your favourite, thus why it’s stored in your mental emergency box. You know a few things about this man; his age (three years younger than you), his favourite food (Korean), his favourite alcohol (soju and he drinks it only once a week), his favourite book (Living, Loving, Learning), his favourite song (it changes every three months), what he wanted to be as a child, what he wants now as an adult, his preferred type of woman (demure, sweet and kind but loves it spicy in the bedroom), and his hobby.

You know his favourite position in bed, his kinks (D&M, bondage), his favourite subject in school (maths, surprisingly) and even the name of his first pet (Mickey). You know why he has that scar on his left eyebrow (at a judo tournament in high school when the opponent split his head but he won the competition anyway), the neighbourhood he grew up in and that he has an older sister who he’s close with. You know that he visits his parents every other weekend to have dinner with them because he prioritises family time. You know that he hates sleeping in the dark because of that one time a friend played a prank by locking him up in the closet and forgot about him, so he sleeps with a nightlight the shape of a crescent moon. You also know his birth zodiac but that he doesn’t believe in fate.

You know all this information about this man that graces the monthly adult magazine you subscribe to since university and yet you don’t know his real name nor what he actually looks like. All of his posters and photos were masked. Someone in your position could easily have attained his real name at least but you decide not to. The mystery of it all kind of enhances his charm, you think, but fuck, if only you could, at least once in your life, to be able to wrap your mouth around that perfect cock of his.

“You think you deserve this, baby?” the Hoya in your head asks as he looms over you, one hand leaning against the headboard above your head. He swings his hips close to your face, teasing you with his giant cock inches from your lips.

“Yesss,” you mewl back, batting your eyelashes prettily for him. “Please.”

“Please what, sugar?”

You writhe under your blanket, your fingers quickly finding the wet spot in between your legs, eyes closed as you imagine the scene. “Please, daddy. I want it.”

And in your fantasies, Hoya always does. He always satisfies you, prioritising your needs as he winds you up and up and up and letting you come crashing down on your highs. He teases and taunts you, worships you like the goddess that you are and you’d scream his name over and over again as he rams into you until you’re all spent and blissful and he’d love you up more softly this time, rocking you both gently until he comes. Those scenes were enough ammo for your fingers to work furiously underneath the thick duvet, arching your back against your pillow, murmuring words you pretend the adult model can hear until you come, toes curling and sighing out his stage name.

Then the guilt comes creeping in and you jump out of bed to clean yourself, chastising yourself that it’s just distasteful for someone like you to get so lost in your own head when your team was almost annihilated today. You bury yourself back in bed and this time, sleep comes much easier.

***

“So…about the new head of security…”

Jimin follows you into your office and watches you straighten out your desk before you finally look up at him. “I don’t think we’ll find anyone in two weeks. I’m serious about postponing it because at this rate we’ll-”

“No.” You cut him short, plopping down into your seat and powering on the iMac. “The meeting with the Sumiyoshi is too important, Jimin, you know this. I can’t risk losing another business because we are not dealing with the Ryuukais anymore after last night.”

Jimin clicks his fingers. “Oh, right! I’ve sent a team as you requested to their headquarters. You’ll hear about it at around…” he checks his watch casually, “noon, perhaps.”

You nod but the look on your face was clear to Jimin that you barely listened, clicking away on your computer, eyebrows furrowing. Jimin sighs. “Hey, look at me.”

You stop what you were doing and shift your gaze to him without turning your head. He scowls but says, “I’m serious about recruiting a head of security this willy-nilly. We’re talking about the head here, not some disposable goons. He’ll be responsible for your safety. You know, keeping you alive in situations similar to last night?”

You roll your eyes, throwing your head back. “Get to the point, Jimin.”

“I refuse to hire just anyone,” he says with a serious look on his face. “I won’t do it and risk you getting shot dead. It took us months to hire and train Hank and you want me to find someone to fill the role in two weeks? That’s not just crazy; that’s stupid.”

You grit your teeth, fingers flexing and unflexing. Anyone else who would speak to you like that would not still be standing as sturdily as Jimin is in that moment, holding his own almost like he’s the boss reprimanding you. But to your credit, you sit there in silence; one of Jimin’s many skills is to make you listen and you trust him enough to do so without protest.

“Fine, then,” you concede, although your tone of voice is still very forceful. “We’ll hire a temporary one, then, if that makes you feel better. Someone good enough for the meeting in two weeks. Someone who won’t need much training but has enough experience to handle something like that.”

“Something like what? A meeting between two underground groups to exchange illegal material for cases of cash?” Jimin writes something in his notebook, arching an eyebrow as he speaks. “Noted. I have doubts but I’ll keep my eyes peeled and in the meantime find someone long term.”

He gives you a condescending smirk and waltzes right out. Just as you thought you were finished dealing with him, he pops his head back in. “Gang things may not sound appealing. Shall I fish them with a higher salary?”

“Do whatever you need to, Jimin,” you reply impatiently, waving your hand at him. “Just go away.”

“Neatto,” he chimes, disappearing again.

Around noon, as Jimin predicted, the front page of most major online newspapers are covering the same story: “Mass murder, arson; the dragon has fallen”. Fancy news title to report on the demise of a mafia group but it is what it is. The shootout at the parking garage, however, wasn’t even mentioned anywhere. You don’t even bother reading the rest of it, clicking away to focus on other more important things, like the arrival of the goods for the Sumiyoshi next week. Customs a bitch to deal with but you have your strings to pull.

You don’t hear from Jimin the rest of the day and that’s fine. It means that work is progressing smoothly and your only hope is for him to find candidates for the open position. You consider rehiring Hank but that would bruise your ego so you squash the idea. For now. If the Ryuukais were bad, the Sumiyoshi would be even worse and a head of security would give the peace of mind you’d need and also a sort of deterrent as well for any fuckery they planned.

You can’t trust those men and the moment they think they see an opening, they’d take it. They can’t stand having to bow to a woman but you rule the diamond business in this part of the world and they have no other reasonable choices. You are known to be fair and trustworthy, an empire you took years to build, carving in your name after you took over from your grandfather. You’re more of a businesswoman than a gang leader but taking over the business meant you had to take over every aspect of it; the good, the bad and the shady illegal shit that you only discovered after signing the handover agreement.

You rub your eyes with your fingertips. You rarely feel sorry for yourself. Why should you? You live in a luxurious apartment that has 24-hour heavy security, you have a driver most times, your status gives you a free pass almost always, money is just a means of transaction that you’ve never hesitated to blow off if you needed to, and power over all the right people. Your business is as clean as you can keep it, you don’t have blood on your hands. Some deals are a little under the table, yes, but nowhere near the same category as the groups and gangs you deal with. You are, technically, legitimate. So why do you feel so shackled?

People your age are married with kids these days, happy as they lived their lives like any normal person would. See, you want kids. Someday. But your life doesn’t have any space for even a lover. They are a hindrance, a bargaining chip that can easily be used against you. And they’re rarely ever loyal, not when to die for love’ could be literal in your world. No one actually means it when they say it.

Then, like always when you think about the topic, Hoya’s face floats in front of your eyes; that cheeky glint in his eyes behind the mask, the parted lips with his tongue just slightly sticking out, enough for you to imagine things with it and the long, slender fingers that you’ve fantasise about doing more than just sticking them in your mouth. You shake your head to clear away the dirty thoughts creeping in. No, I’m at work! You slap your cheeks a few times and return back to the computer screen.

It’s not until the end of the week when Jimin informs you, with an unamused look on his face, that so far there were only three applicants and one of them is totally a reject because the guy is fresh out of college looking for a lucrative part time job before he leaves for Australia.

“So that leaves us with two,” Jimin is saying, the iPad completely hiding his face from where you sit. “I’ve talked to them both. One has a military background. A captain in Iraq. Came back and currently working as a mall night security guard. Has PTSD so can’t commit to a nine to five. Looks promising but he has teenage kids and a dead wife.”

“And the other one?”

Jimin shakes his head. “I don’t really like this one.”

“Why not?” You frown, curious.

Jimin sighs. “Well, for one, the only good thing going for him is that he has multiple martial arts skills - judo, taekwondo, karate. This guy needs a new hobby.”

“So what’s wrong about him? Those are useful in this industry,” you say, sitting back in your chair and swinging it from side to side.

“What’s wrong about him is that he’s in his mid-twenties but no full time job to account for,” Jimin answers as he scrolls through the man’s resume. “He graduated in economics, worked part time at a bar for a few months and then nothing. Said he does small freelance gigs here and there but won’t say what. I don’t like him.”

You laugh. “Pretty sure you can run a background check on him easily.”

“I know but it’s suspicious. I don’t like someone who I can’t read,” Jimin retorts. “I say go with the vet and then after the meeting we’ll reassess if we’d want to keep him. I’ll keep the job posting up in case we’d get better candidates.”

You mull over the information Jimin has provided you. The military vet does seem to be the obvious choice; he has experience and skills a head security needs but the fact that he’s the only thing standing in between whether his kids will grow up with one parent or end up in foster care makes everything a tad bit harder. That, or the fact that his kids could also be used as leverage by the enemies. Not a pretty thought but, again, it has happened.

On the other hand, Jimin is correct about the martial arts guy. A person who has something to hide could be detrimental to you and the company. He has a good education but no job worth of note. Now, in the normal world, it would be understandable that not everyone is lucky enough but in your life, it’s a red flag. Your enemies are always finding ways to get close to you and you can’t risk being negligent now.

But you’re running out of time.

You nod your head and turn to your secretary. “Alright, then. Give it to the vet. Have him report in on Monday morning.”

Jimin beams. “Consider it done.”

On Monday morning, you walk into the office and are met with a sour-faced Jimin talking heatedly on the phone in the corner of the pantry area. When he sees you, he ends the call and strides over. “He’s not coming,” he huffs.

“Who’s not coming?”

“The vet guy,” he explains bitterly. “Apparently his friend got him a job on the weekend and he felt better to go with the other option.”

“And you told him off on the phone?” You arched an eyebrow at him, incredulous.

Jimin looks confused. “What? No, that wasn’t him. That was the recruiter.” He rolls his eyes and you have the urge to call him an old man but don’t. “Anyway,” he sighs, “I’ve asked the other candidate to come in at ten for a “final” interview.” Jimin makes air quotes with his fingers. “Figured we can talk to him and then see how it goes.”

You stare at the clock. “That’s in thirty minutes.”

Jimin curses, checking his watch. “Fuck!”

“Are you okay? You seem out of sorts today,” you ask, walking over to the coffee machine.

“Are you serious right now?”

You look at him, the coffee machine whirring in the background. “What?”

“Didn’t you see the email I sent you last night?”

“No. Why?”

Jimin looks a little pale. “It’s on your desk,” he says dryly, raising his phone to his ears. “I’ll just go and make sure the guy comes in today.” He walks out of the pantry talking on the phone, his voice harsh and cold to whoever he’s speaking to. You carry your coffee mug into your office and make a straight beeline to the single sheet of paper placed in the middle of it. You pick it up and read through Jimin’s cursive handwriting.

“Sonofabitch!”

***

Jung Hoseok walks into the huge office feeling only slightly intimidated by the large windows and the fact that he was literally three hundred metres above ground. He involuntarily shivers.

“Hi,” he says as he approaches the man dressed in a three-piece suit. The man looks up and smiles and Hoseok is immediately taken aback by how pretty he looks. He clears his throat and continues, “I’m here for the interview.”

“Jung Hoseok?” Jimin asks, though already knowing the answer. He looks the tall man up and down, dressed in a full suit minus a tie; a little odd considering this is an interview.

Hoseok nods. He notices the other man staring at his bare collar and consciously tug at it. “I forgot it. Hope it won’t affect the interview,” Hoseok mumbles, not meaning any word of it. He hates ties, plain and simple.

Jimin stands up and offers his hand. “No worries. We’re not that conventional. I’m Park Jimin, the secretary.” He notices how Hoseok’s eyes grow infinitesimally wider at that but continues, “Please have a seat while I let the boss know you’re here. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“No problem. I was in the neighbourhood,” Hoseok replies as he follows Jimin to a lounge chair outside a set of oak double doors. Another lie. He just needed the job and would think about the multiple traffic rules he broke on the way over later. Hoseok watches as the secretary disappears behind the double doors as he sits down. He strains his ear to hear beyond it but no sound comes through.

Hoseok takes this time to compose his thoughts, running through his head the things that he thinks would be good to say. A temporary head of security position and with his lack of experience, he’s very surprised (and very suspicious) that he even got a callback, never mind a final face-to-face interview directly with the boss. Judging by the place and the very vague ad, he has an idea what sort of man he’d have to keep safe; old, filthy rich with probably illegal money, and most possibly a narcissist. All the top dogs are usually one, especially when their office is this fucking high up in the sky. Why can’t it be something more grounded, for fuck’s sake?

Never mind, he just needs the money. All he has to do is smile and agree to everything the old geezer says and tells him to do. It’s temporary anyway. No biggie.

The oak door opens and Jimin steps out. He gestures to the door. “The boss is ready for you. Go on in.”

Hoseok stands up and takes a few deep breaths. Jimin eyes him, not even hiding the fact that he’s watching the taller man with as much interest as a lion has its prey. The small smile on the secretary’s face is starting to grate Hoseok the wrong way but he straightens himself up and walks past him and into the room without another look.

Jimin waltzes back to his desk, whistling. “Whew, I do sure hope he aces the interview,” he whispers to himself.

Inside, Hoseok is looking around the massive room. Everything about it screams old, rich man smoking cigars his whole life; the dark mahogany desk, the shelves of thick books on economics, world history, business, diamonds and a few others that looked to be in Italian and Japanese, the bare mantelpiece with a couple of plagues to certify that the business is legit. No ashtray, though. The office has a warm brown tone, calming but, again, confirms his earlier assumptions. On the bright side, it also means that the money promised on the ad is something he can expect if he gets the job, an amount that would definitely give him the life that he so desperately wants.

The office is empty and it takes him a while to register the water running in a connecting restroom. He stands in front of the desk, hands clasped in front of him, and waits patiently. He has to give a good impression. This job will be his one ticket to freedom.

The restroom door opens and he turns around, expecting an elderly man with an extended stomach to waddle out. At the sight of you, in a light grey suit with an open top white blouse underneath, Hoseok stumbles backward, hitting one of the chairs behind him, making it scrape back noisily.

“Sorry for the wait,” you say, walking to the other side of the desk. “I just needed to freshen up. Hectic morning. Please, have a seat.”

Hoseok looks around the room again, waiting for someone else to come in. You watch him, a small sarcastic smile on your lips. “Are you looking for someone?”

Hoseok looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed. “I thought-”

His eyes fall on the nameplate in front of him with the title Chief Executive Officer above your name. He looks at you then down at the nameplate and then back at you. You sit back in your chair, watching, amused. “You thought a woman can’t be the boss?”

There’s no contrition on Hoseok’s face, no embarrassment of sorts for having had that sexist thought right in front of a prospective employer. He just looked genuinely confused and then he shrugs, sitting down. “I just had a different idea initially,” he finally says, unbuttoning his suit jacket and crossing his legs at the knee. Five seconds later, he uncrosses it and sits up straighter.

“You’re not used to this, are you?” you ask, tilting your head, observing him.

Hoseok doesn’t answer, his face remaining passive.

You lean your elbows on the desk, steepling your fingers together. “Tell me, what sort of jobs have you had before,” you glance at the resume in front of you, “Jung Hoseok?”

“Different things,” he says casually. “A little bit of this and that.”

You eye him. A small part of you is annoyed by his rudeness but a bigger part of you is actually curious, dying to know what a handsome man like him does for a living that he’s not comfortable in this formal setting. You notice his slender, pretty fingers lightly drumming against his knee while the other hand rests against his cheek, looking at you like he’s the one conducting the interview instead. It’s somewhat angering and yet oddly amusing, like you wanted to see more of this devil-may-care behaviour of his.

“I need specifics, Mr Jung,” you say. “I can’t hire someone I don’t know anything about and your resume,” you lift it up, “is pretty much empty. I don’t know what impression you got of our company but I can assure you I have high standards.”

He looks pointedly at you. “Then why did you request me to come in?”

You blink at him, dumbfounded. “Well, touché,” you laugh lightly, sitting back again. “To be honest, I was attracted by your martial art skills and I’m impressed. I think it will be useful for this position.”

Hoseok slides lower in his seat and spreads his legs in the typical way a man sits. He leans an elbow against the arm of the chair, resting his head lightly on three fingers. Suddenly, you lost your train of thoughts. Something about the way he sits, down to the tapping forefinger against the side of his temple, seems familiar. The set jaws, the serious lips and the tinge of iciness in his eyes; all seem to be ringing a bell in the back of your mind. Especially the eyes. Where have you seen it before?

“If it’s only the martial arts, then you won’t need to know my work history,” he says, his tone of voice cool and even with a touch of airiness that makes you think you’re beneath him. “But if you must know, I work part time as a judo instructor at a gym near my place.”

You glance at the piece of paper in your hand. It’s the only information available there and it doesn’t answer your question. You glare at him but he continues to speak. “Other than that I just do a bit of odd jobs here and there. I didn’t think it would be relevant nor make a good impression so I just left them out.”

“What kind of odd jobs?” you push, narrowing your eyes.

He returns your look coolly and takes five whole seconds before answering. “A bit of bartending, a bit of labour work. Different things like that.”

Outside, Jimin is pouring over the short email he had just received. The background check on Jung Hoseok doesn’t yield much information either, only that he was recruited into a hospitality agency and currently still is an employee there. Jimin Googled the agency but all that comes out is that it’s an outsourcing company, supplying workers to a variety of clients ranging from construction companies to restaurants and bars. He guesses the man wasn’t lying after all. He calls up the agency and speaks to an admin, taking out his pen to jot down in his trusty notebook.

In the office, you check Hoseok’s resume again. “It says here you went to college and graduated with a degree in economics. You’ve been part-timing since then?”

*Yes,” he answers curtly.

“Is there any particular reason for that?”

“The economy is shit these days,” he mutters out. “Look,” he sits up straighter, getting honestly tired of this whole thing, “I’m not here to bullshit with you. I need the money. If you think my martial arts skill will be good for the position, then hire me. If not, let me know so I can get to the next interview.”

You sit there, mouth agape at his audacity. “You’re the one who needs the job, you know,” you retort back, getting angry. “Would it kill you to at least pretend to be nice?”

Hoseok sighs, scratching the side of his head. “Would that make it easier for you?”

“Yes!” You give him an incredulous look but also surprised at yourself for actually answering him. What the hell is wrong with him? “What’s your problem, man?”

Now it’s his turn to look a little shocked, raising his eyebrows at you. Collecting himself, he stands up. “Look, this is a temporary position, right? Just until the end of this week? I’ll lay it out for you: I’m good at kicking ass and I know how to handle a firearm.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I served in the military for eighteen months.”

You scan the resume again. “Then why the hell didn’t you put it here?”

He rolls his eyes. “Because I’m Korean and it’s just a mandatory requirement. It wouldn’t have mattered here.”

“What? Of course it matters! Especially in the job position you’re applying for!” You’re standing up, too, absolutely frustrated with him. “Why did you even bother coming in if this is the attitude you’re giving?”

“Because I needed the job,” he shrugs, answering.

“That’s a rhetorical question!”

He frowns at you as if you’re the one not making any sense. He puts a fist against his hip, looking like he’s ready to walk out the door, and asks, “Do you want me or not?”

Un-fucking-believable. Never in your life have you ever met someone so audacious, so frustrating, so full of himself, and you deal with drug lords and gang leaders and mafias and all sorts of the lowest of lows and yet here you are, amazed by this one man’s ability to rile you up. None of those groups of people that you do business with, shady or not, have ever spoken to you the way he did, with no regards of the consequences whatsoever, and they rule the underworld with iron fists. Even they have respect for you!

Hoseok watches you fluster, your face turning red, your eyes glazing over with what looks like tears, your fists clenching and unclenching as your mouth works to form words. Watching you like that, something tweaks at his heart and he feels just a tad bit guilty. He sighs and throws his gaze out the huge window overlooking the city.

Hoseok is not one to feel sorry for anybody because he grew up with no one feeling sorry for him. That part of him never wired right so for him to actually feel a little sympathy for you is new and honestly, he’s not all too sure what to do about it. He shifts his gaze back to you. “Does the position mean I have to answer to you?”

You grit your teeth. “Yes.”

“Do I have a say in any decisions?”

You think before answering through a strained voice, “Yes, if it’s pertaining to my safety. You can make the call.”

Hoseok looks around the room as if looking for some hints of what the job might actually entail. He notices the many books on diamonds and rocks but other than that, there’s nothing. “Do I have to kill people?” he asks.

You hesitate, shuffling from one foot to the other. You square your shoulders and answer, “Only if and when it’s necessary.”

Hoseok nods quietly to himself, looking down to the plush carpet under his feet as if he’s weighing the pros and cons of it all. He looks up again and his face is more determined. “Do I have to wear a stupid suit?”

You almost laugh but stifle it, schooling your face to look impassive. “Haven’t you seen bodyguards before?” When he doesn’t answer but just stares back at you unfazed, you add, “Never mind. I do expect some sort of professionalism and cleanliness, though. What you have on now is fine.”

“I’m not going to wear any damn ties,” he snaps and it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“Whatever. You start tomorrow.”

You call for Jimin to come in with the employment contract and five minutes later, Jung Hoseok is signing the papers without even looking past the salary offered. He doesn’t even ask about the NDA paperworks nor does he even ask about the one-page loyalty pledge that would have him sign away every right he has over his own life, assets and name should he ever risk, betray, or act insubordinate in any way that could cost your life or the company’s. You and Jimin exchange glances a few times, the regret starting to sink in in the pit of your stomach but you remain quiet throughout the ordeal.

When Hoseok finally left, Jimin stormed straight into your office and raised both arms into the air. “What the fuck was that?”

You’re pinching the bridge of your nose. “No idea. Don’t ask. I feel like I’ve just been bullied into hiring someone and I’m already regretting the decision.”

Jimin narrows his eyes at you. “Well, good thing it’s only temporary because girl, you’re honestly losing it.”

“Did you find anything on him?” you ask through a scowl.

Jimin pouts. “Apart from him being a tall glass of water I would definitely slurp empty, nope. Nada. He’s listed on one of those agencies that outsource workers, that’s about it.”

“Explains the odd jobs,” you mumble. “Find me an actual, qualified person with experience this time, Jimin. We’re getting rid of him after the meeting. Fuck!” You let out a loud frustrated sigh. “I can’t fucking believe they move the meeting to this Friday, fucking bastards.”

*~*

Hoseok comes in pretty early the next day, the same time as Jimin walks out of the elevator and sees him in the pantry, a cup of iced coffee in one hand, scowling at something in the direction of the window.

“Morning,” chirps Jimin cheerily, joining the new hire. He’s in a dark pair of jeans, Chelsea boots, and a dark crisp shirt under his unbuttoned suit jacket. Jimin can clearly see the top of Hoseok’s chest by how many buttons he disregarded; not professional but not something Jimin is going to complain about, especially when he can sneak a peek at the hint of a tattoo there on the left side.

Hoseok doesn’t respond to Jimin but only mildly nods his way. He finally turns away from the window but his eyebrows are still furrowed. “When does she usually come in?”

Jimin glances at the clock. “Around this time. She’ll be here soon and it’s My Lady to you, newbie.”

“You call her that?” Hoseok asks, stirring his coffee with his straw.

Jimin snorts. “The others do. I don’t but we have a long history. You, on the other hand, should know your place.”

“Who should know whose place?” you ask, walking into the pantry.

Jimin hands you your steaming cup of coffee and walks out, saying from over his shoulder, “Ask the newbie.”

You raise your eyebrows at Hoseok but the man just shrugs and walks out after the secretary, leaving you standing there completely clueless. Honestly, you might as well just do a whole reorg because what the hell is with this attitude? You’re their boss!

***

Hoseok spent his first day in hours of briefing with you, Jimin and another person simply referred to as ‘The Coordinator’, who talked mostly about the people or businesses they deal with and honestly, Hoseok barely listened.

Once the one-day onboarding process was finished, the only thing Hoseok fully understood was the reason why the salary was so high it was ridiculous. And also why you needed a head of security. He’s basically a personal bodyguard that has his own team of seven to direct and manage. His one and only job is to stick close to you like gum and make sure you remain alive for the length of his contract period, which isn’t all that long considering he’s mainly hired for the big meeting on Friday, three days away. Easy.

Now, Hoseok might not have listened to any of the lectures he was subjected to but he had been highly attuned to you, reading your body language and facial expression, mainly because he was curious as to why a woman like you is in a business like this. Whatever this big meeting is on Friday, it’s so important to you that you barely sat still. He understood the desperation of hiring him for only four days in total just by the way you chew on your lips and shake your knees as Jimin and the The Coordinator explained to him all about what’s supposed to go down with this big, bad group called, the Sumiyoshi.

At the end of the day, while Hoseok retreats to the restroom, you and Jimin convene together to talk about, well, about him.

“I still don’t like him but hot damn he’s a whole meal,” Jimin says as he leans closer to your face to make sure no other ears are listening. “I say we just keep him on as a pseudo bodyguard after the meeting. I’d appreciate eye candy at the office.”

You nudge him with your elbow hard enough he tilts sideways. “First of all, that’ll be sexual harassment of lusting over your coworker. Second of all, I completely agree with you. Although…”

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Although what?”

“I don’t know,” you say, shaking your head. “Just feel like I’ve seen him from somewhere before. There’s something about those eyes.”

Jimin snorts. “You mean those mean looking eyes that could undress you with one look?”

You swat at his arm and Jimin laughs. “Admit it. You feel it, too. Like he’s judging everybody.” He exaggerates a shiver and then one look at your crimson cheeks he gasps. “Wait a minute, I didn’t mean that kind of undressing, you dirty girl!”

Hoseok walks in with a glum look on his face and frowns at the two of you laughing together. For some reason, it irks him to see Jimin’s hand casually over yours and you leaning into his side. You both straighten up at the sight of him.

“What happened?” you ask, spotting his wet shirt.

“The sink attacked me,” he replies solemnly, heading over to grab some paper towels from the pantry. You and Jimin look at each other before you follow Hoseok out and Jimin goes back to his desk.

“I’m doubting your ability to fill this position,” you say as you walk into the pantry to Hoseok’s futile attempts at dabbing at his shirt.

“Why’s that?” he asks, nonchalant, not even looking up.

“Well,” you start, standing in front of him and removing his hands to see the damage, “you can’t even handle a sink, so…” you give him a wry smile before gesturing to a closet in the corner. “There’s some extra shirts in there. There should be something that could fit you.”

Hoseok walks over to the closet. “You guys have a shirt closet at the office?”

You shrug. “For emergencies,” you answer, thinking about all the times your men came back from an awry meeting having to get rid of their blood-soaked clothes or to not smell of gunsmoke before going home to their families. Most of those times, that shirt closet saved them from a lot of headaches to deal with, especially your team of lawyers.

To your surprise, Hoseok takes off his shirt on the spot, his broad shoulders in full display. “What the hell? You could have gone into the restroom, for fuck’s sake!” you cry out, going over to the pantry door and shutting it.

Hoseok turns around while still unbuttoning the fresh shirt. What’s even more surprising than him stripping half naked in the pantry is the fact that there’s a playful, sarcastic smile on his lips as he looks at you. “You’ve never seen a man’s torso before, My Lady?”

The way he calls you My Lady was in no way respectful. It was teasing, taunting, arrogant. You cross your arms over your chest, standing a little bit taller. “As a matter of fact, I have. And I’m speaking for the rest of the office. No one wants to see you half naked, Jung Hoseok.” But that’s a complete lie. You can count at least two people who would want to, Jimin being the other person.

You can’t help but stare at the very visible abs, the bellybutton peeking just above the belt around his waist, the wide chest, the tattoo on- wait a second. Your eyes zone in on the tattoo symbol on the left side of his chest and your heart starts racing. Hoseok notices where you’re looking and he hurries to pull the shirt over his head instead, turning away towards the huge window to finish buttoning up everything except for the last ones around the collar.

“That tattoo,” he hears you mutter from behind him.

He finally turns back around, feigning nonchalance once again and picks up his own wet shirt from the floor. “What about it?”

You stare at him, not knowing what to say. If you tell him you recognise it, then you’d have to explain where you’ve seen it before and your employee doesn't need to know what kind of magazines you subscribe to. But those eyes, it’s starting to dawn on you why they’re so familiar, having looked at them almost every night before sleep. And it’s not just those eyes that you’ve been looking at, too. Holy fucking shit.

What did you tell Jimin earlier? That it’s sexual harassment to lust over a coworker? You can feel your whole face on fire as you whirl on your heels and walk off, marching past Jimin who gives you a weird look, before slamming your office door behind you.

You lean against the door, heaving. What in the actual fuck? Jung Hoseok is Hoya?!

*~*

You are acting weird, Jimin thinks.

The rest of that Tuesday, you shut yourself in your office and only came out at the end of the day, not a word to anybody, not even Jimin himself. You zoomed past him and quickly left, leaving Hoseok standing there, looking at him as he had all the answers regarding you because Hoseok was supposed to escort you home. That was part of his job scopes. Well, Jimin didn’t have any answers that day and he dismissed Hoseok for the day.

Today, again, you hole up in the office, not even meeting Jimin in the morning in the pantry as usual, only allowing Jimin to come in and out for business purposes only. Jimin chalks it up to you being under stress. The package delivery is on its way and it’s a very high risk time window; anything could go wrong in between the cargo being loaded up into the plane and for it to arrive into your hands. But something else isn’t adding up: you refuse to even acknowledge Hoseok, your head of security, and requested that any communication between them go through Jimin. A pain in the ass because he has other things to deal with but he kept his mouth shut the whole morning.

You, on the other hand, are a complete mess. The package delivery be damned, your whole integrity is about to implode and you have high suspicions that Hoseok knows that you know because you’ve made a fool of yourself by making it obvious. The good thing is, he hasn’t come outright to ask you about it.

Why the hell didn’t that info come up on the background check? Did Jimin fuck up? Or was Hoseok just that good at hiding his side gig? I mean, he does go by a stage name and not listing that job only meant he had wanted to keep things separate but oh my god, how do you keep things separate when the person you’ve been masturbating to is the person on your payroll?! That’s completely unethical! It makes you such a hypocrite, too, if you confide in Jimin about this whole thing and you rather keep to yourself than be laughed at for the rest of your life.

That’s it. That’s what you’ll do. Just keep it to yourself the same way Hoseok is keeping that part of his life a secret. Pretend that everything is fine and dandy. You can do that. You slump in your seat and bury your face in your hands, groaning inwardly. And just like that, an image of your favourite Hoya poster pops in front of your eyes, cock and all, and you scream and stand up.

Jimin opens the door, eyebrows furrowed so deeply they almost merged. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to the delivery?”

The door is pushed open wider and Hoseok peers from behind Jimin’s shoulder, curious, hands in his pockets. Suddenly, his top disappears from your mind and all you can see is the smooth skin of his body and that hope tattoo on his chest. You can even pick out the veins running along his neck, picturing yourself tracing kisses down it, going further south-

“Earth to y/n!” Jimin calls out, coming over to the desk to look at you more closely. The door swings open wider and Hoseok steps in, leaning against the wall of the office, crossing his legs by the ankle. “What is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” you squeak out finally. Clearing your throat, you try again. “Nothing. I’m just- just stressed out. The usual. You know how these times are for me.” You pretend to shuffle around some papers on your desk and Jimin only narrows his eyes.

“The delivery is going as planned,” Hoseok says coolly, his voice even. “My team is monitoring it closely. There shouldn’t be any worry. My Lady.”

You don’t look at him, looking at the spot on the wall next to his head instead and nod. “Right. Good, good.” You swallow, noticing, or probably imagining that strange tone he used to call you ‘my lady’. Most of your men call you that, it’s nothing new, nothing strange. But him? Why does it bother you so much? Maybe because you’ve seen him fucking naked.

“I’m going out to lunch,” you announce, gathering your things.

“Really?” Jimin arches an eyebrow, genuinely perplexed by your behaviour and bordering on worry. “Is it safe to be out and about now? Delivery time is a sensitive one, you usually lay low. I can have your lunch delivered. What would you like?”

“No, no. I need to get some fresh air,” you retort, picking up your bag and rushing for the exit, taking the emergency stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.

Jimin and Hoseok glance at each other. Hoseok pushes off the wall and heads out. “I’ll take care of it,” he says without turning around.

Jimin follows him out to the elevator, still wondering about you. “Bring her back in one piece, Jung.”

The elevator arrives and Hoseok steps in. He gives Jimin a blase two-finger salute before the doors close. As Jimin is about to go back, he notices another odd thing: Hoseok is not going all the way down but only to the level five floors below. Jimin snorts. He guesses the newbie is pretty reliable after all.

You only go as far as five floors down when you start to get breathless and your thighs ache and storming down the stairs in heels isn’t the best of ideas. You pause, leaning against the handrail for support when the emergency door behind you opens and Hoseok leans against one arm to prop it open. “Get out. We’re taking the elevator,” he orders, gesturing with his head. “Hurry before it leaves.”

You want to say no but the thought of going all the way down via the stairs when you’re this high up isn't appealing, crazy almost, so you oblige. In the elevator, both of you remain quiet. It’s a long ride down and it’s the most uncomfortable elevator moment you’ve ever had, cancelling out that one time you were stuck with the Italian mafia right-hand man who was obviously flirting in a language you couldn’t grasp but that you couldn’t say no outright because the deal hasn’t been made yet. And why is it so hot in here?

Finally they arrive and Hoseok pushes past you to lead the way to the waiting car, speaking through his in-ear walkie-talkie. Up in the office, you’ve only ever seen casual Hoseok, nonchalant and calm and looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. But down here, where you’re exposed and Hoseok is in his security mode, he’s a complete one-eighty. His eyes are sharp and narrowed, his jaws set and his pace are brisk. He seems to take the role seriously, for someone hired for four days.

And he’s tall. Very tall, taller than you realise. You knew his height, have memorised the numbers in your head because it's basic information of your fantasy lover, but actually seeing it firsthand and being able to compare yourself to him (you barely come up to his shoulders), is different. You shake your head, clearing your thoughts. Focus, you tell yourself. I’m his motherfucking boss.

Throughout lunch and all the way back to the office, you had hoped that he would bring it up, the fact that he’s Hoya, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even ask you if you knew. He doesn’t speak more than he has to, only replying in curt replies, eyes always looking out and around. He seems to be very aware of his surroundings and you suddenly notice the bulge on his waist side; the company-issued firearm.

“It’s good that you’re taking the job seriously,” you say as you both ride the elevator up to the office, stomachs full and you feeling less out of control.

He gives you a dirty look as if you had offended him. “Of course I am.”

After a few minutes of silence, he adds, “I don’t know what kind of person you take me for, but I take my jobs seriously. You get what you pay for.”

You pull a face, confident you’re out of view standing slightly behind him. “Well, thank you for your service,” you remark, intending to sound sarcastic but Hoseok only shrugs, clearly seeing the face you make through the reflective surface of the elevator door.

Just then, Hoseok receives a message through his walkie-talkie that the package has arrived and passed immigration. He relays the message to you, who slump your shoulders as if the information weighs heavily on them. You lean against the back of the elevator, your face hardening, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Almost there,” he hears you mumble. Again, Hoseok feels the same pang of sympathy he had when they first met. He has so many questions to ask you, mainly how you got involved in this side of business but mostly he’s trying to tell himself not to care. The job is temporary and after Friday, he’ll walk out of this office with enough money to do what he had always dreamt of doing. Easy. Cut and dry. So why does the thought of never returning give him a heavy feeling in his chest?

Hoseok takes another look at you through the reflection. You’re leaning against the back wall, eyes staring at a spot somewhere on the carpet floor of the elevator. You’re thinking of something as your forehead creases over and you start biting on your bottom lip. A sudden urge fills him to whip around and pin you against the wall and kiss you hard enough your lips will bleed. But then your eyes look up to meet his and immediately you smile.

“I hope you’re ready for what’s to come, Jung Hoseok,” you say softly, pushing off the wall as the elevator pings. Gone was the troubled look on your face, replaced with the confidence of a person who knows a lot of things are depending on her ability to lead well. For a brief moment, Hoseok could clearly see the bodies you had stepped on to get here and he’s not sure if he’s disgusted by it or turned on.

He’ll find out soon enough.

*~*

Friday is finally here.

Hoseok has been away since Tuesday night; doing surveillance, putting tabs on the Sumiyoshi to make sure they’re not planning a surprise, investigating every square feet of the meeting location to make sure that nothing is planted and no sniper will camp on any buildings or high places on a thirty-mile radius, just to be safe. He had a whole manual book on what to do for these things and as much as he cursed every step of the way, Hoseok made sure he did everything right to the T.

After all, his head is on the line, too.

But also, he’s actually physically sick worrying about all the possibilities of what could go wrong. Hoseok isn’t one to show emotions; he hides them all behind a solid poker face, one he has been putting on these past couple of days whenever he has to see you or speak to Jimin. His hunch about you knowing about the magazine has been confirmed but he decided that if the issue should be addressed, it wouldn’t come from him and he bet you wouldn’t talk about it, too, because then you have to explain how you even know. It’s a niche market, a type of magazine you don’t just stumble upon by accident, though it does make him crazy curious if you actually subscribe to it. That would be interesting.

Friday morning, Hoseok rides the elevator up to the office and finds the place empty of the other usual employees. Instead, there’s a small group of men (and one woman) standing around speaking in a hush tone. All the desks are empty and there’s a sullen atmosphere in the air. The group looks up when he enters.

Jimin walks in, dressed in all black, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. He’s in dark jeans and not the usual three-piece. “Jung, you’re here. Good,” he says. To the group, he introduces Hoseok. “The new and temporary head of security. You can calm down, Vera.”

That’s when Hoseok sees the woman slide back the knife up her sleeves, nodding at him in acknowledgement. Hoseok joins to stand next to Jimin but he looks around once, searching for you. Jimin must have noticed and says, “She’s in her office, meditating. These are the couriers.”

“Where’s the package?” asks Hoseok.

Jimin gestures to your office doors. “In there.” To the one called Vera, he hands over a navy duffel bag. “Everything’s in there. You can count them if you want.”

Vera passes the bag over to the man on her left and he opens the zipper just an inch before nodding and zipping it back up. Vera offers a hand to Jimin. “Always nice doing business with you, Park,” she says in an accent Hoseok can’t quite place. “Although I have to warn you, the day we arrived we were tailed and it took awhile to shake them off. We didn’t get to identify them.”

Jimin’s face clouds over. “And were you tailed today?”

“No,” Vera snaps. “I made sure of that. But I advise you to keep your eyes open.” She looks pointedly at Hoseok.

They left and Hoseok goes off into the pantry to check in with his team via the radio while Jimin knocks on your door. He peeks in. “Ready when you are, boss.”

“And Hoseok?” you finish buttoning up your blouse over the Kevlar vest and turn around to Jimin.

“In the pantry. Checking in with the team,” replies Jimin. “Everything looks good.” Jimin approaches and helps you put on your jacket, subtly running his fingers over the vest to make sure everything is properly secured. “How do you feel today?”

Jimin’s voice is soft, a voice only reserved for times like this, when tomorrow feels unsure and Jimin will be left for hours at his desk for news on which protocol to follow: the Meredith Grey Protocol, to which he will have all the privately-hired doctors at the ready and set up lawyers to arrange NDAs as well as mobilise the clean up crew, or the Genocide Protocol for worst case scenarios. In the long existence of this company, the latter had been activated only once, the day your grandfather died and it wasn’t even by Jimin.

“Like I want to throw up,” you answer, letting Jimin fuss with the coat because you can feel him checking the vest. “I honestly feel the same way I did that time the lawyer came to my place to let me know I was about to carry on my grandfather’s business.”

Jimin chuckles. “I remember that day. We just graduated.”

You don’t respond.

Hoseok opens the door and his eyes narrow at Jimin. “The car’s here. We should get going.”

Jimin steps away, crossing his arms over his chest to hide how much his hands are shaking. “Good to go.”

“I can see the vest from here,” Hoseok states matter-of-factly. “Don’t you have darker-coloured tops?”

“Watch your tone, temp,” Jimin snarls but he goes into the restroom to rummage through the drawers in there. He comes out with a different blouse in hand and passes it over to you. The phone outside rings and Jimin rushes out to get it, forgetting to drag Hoseok out, too. Hoseok checks his watch; they’re running a minute late and yet you haven’t made any move to change. The vest being seen isn’t a big deal but it might convey the fact that you are expecting something to go bad, which communicates no trust towards the group you’re doing business with. Safety has to be done tactfully to ensure future relationships. Business is business.

Hoseok catches your fingers fumbling with the buttons of your blouse and he’s honestly a little irked. Aren’t you supposed to be some powerful mogul in the diamond business?

Getting impatient, Hoseok steps forward and roughly pulls off the coat from your shoulders, drapes it over his arm and deftly undo the buttons of your blouse. It’s not like you’re completely naked under there and you aren’t even objecting, merely standing there letting him do whatever.

“Get it together,” he hisses as he yanks the top from your arms. “ Is this what you want to show to your business partners, that you’re just a scared little girl?”

Your eyes flashes dangerously at him. You push him away much to his surprise and grab the blouse from him, putting it on over your head by undoing only a couple of the top buttons. You take the coat from him and take a deep breath. You round on him, poking a finger into his chest. “Don’t ever talk to me like that again.”

You walk out just as Jimin finishes the call. “Everybody’s on the move,” Jimin reports. If he notices the stormy look on your face, he leaves it for later, as a promise to himself that you will be back. “Good luck out there.”

You nod at him and force a smile. “Hold down the fort for me, will ya?”

Jimin doesn’t answer but watches you leave. As Hoseok is passing him, he pulls on the other man’s arm, making him stop and turn angrily. “You let anything happen to her, your ass is mine.”

Hoseok sneers at Jimin’s threat but takes it as an offence to his job albeit it being about to end at the end of the day, one way or another. “I’ll bring the princess back, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he jabs back, turning around and walking out after you.

In the car, you are silent the whole ride. Hoseok sits in front, quietly listening to the reports of his team in his ear, noting bits and pieces of information that are important. So far, everything looks according to plan. He’s aware that the Sumiyoshi also have the same type of team keeping tabs on them the same way he is and that’s fine. As long as both parties play their parts well, neither of them will have anything to complain about and they all can go home safe and sound.

But Hoseok can’t quite get rid of this unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach, growing stronger as they get nearer to the meeting place. He tells himself that it’s just nerves but no matter how much he tries, he can’t completely get rid of it. He’s been pestering his team too much now that he can even hear the annoyance in their voices. In the end, he remains in his seat, fist tightly gripping the handle above his head.

The meeting place is an office space on the thirteenth floor of a building downtown. Bright open space with floor to ceiling windows at a three-sixty degree of the room, with other taller buildings surrounding it. The Sumiyoshi, as bad as they are, have a reputation of doing things in broad daylight, aware of the power they hold. Hoseok remains leading the way for you, making sure that you are always behind him at all times and three of his teammates in a circle around you; one on each side of you and one bringing up the rear.

The other four are off site, in a place where they are able to monitor all entrance and exit points as well as having a clear view of the room they are in. Hoseok has all their specific locations noted, casually glancing at the neighbouring buildings even though he can’t see them. The Sumiyoshi are already there; a total of eight of them, big burly men in suits with golden something on either their necks or their wrists or their fingers. There are only five of us, he thinks.

As you take your seat at the big table, Hoseok and his team remain standing behind you. Hoseok stands right next to your shoulder, close enough to touch but further enough for them to know that he’s only a bodyguard. He doesn’t even bother to hide the firearm on his side but the one under his right armpit is starting to feel uncomfortable.

The meeting starts smoothly; a little back and forth about the weather and the economics, a little bit about this really nice restaurant one of the men went to that they think you should really try, and a bit about home life thrown in, asking you if the behaviour of their wives are all normal or if they were all crazy chicks just after the money.

Through all the topics, Hoseok watches you smile politely, laugh softly at all the right places, agree with their views on how shit the economy is now, tell them that the restaurant sounds lovely and force a laugh at wives issues they are having, telling them you’re not married so you’re not sure if you know what normal is in that situation. All pleasantries and just about what they want to hear without involving yourself too much, just vague answers that sound a lot like agreements than you holding back your tongue. Smart, Hoseok thinks, and you do it so with ease; all signs that you really know how to spin these types of guys easily.

But it’s all just surface-level, both you and the eight men know. A little dance everybody does to keep things light before the real thing starts, and the real thing finally starts when the man sitting in the middle clears his throat and adjusts his sitting position. The atmosphere completely shifts and even Hoseok notices it, sucking in a breath and stiffening his spine, listening to his four men in his ear reporting the all clear, nothing suspicious. But his gut is acting up again and he has to clasp his hands together to keep still.

“Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?” the man in the middle speaks, leaning over the table. “Do you have it?”

A part of Hoseok wonders why buying diamonds has to be so shifty like this. They’re just diamonds, you can walk into any jewellery store and get them. He never really thought about it much before but being in this meeting is starting to make him wonder the origin of the diamonds. Why do these men buy diamonds from you? Are they illegal? Why? And why are you involved in this business?

You lean back in your seat, a soft smile on your lips. “Of course I do, Kenji-san. The question is, do you have the payment method ready?”

The man called Kenji breaks into a wide smile and the man next to him brings up a small briefcase and places it on the table in front of him. He taps it. “All in here, sweetheart.”

“You know I hate pet names,” you say sweetly. “But I’ll let it slide this time.” You gesture to Hoseok to get the briefcase but Kenji stops him.

“The merchandise first, sweetheart,” he drawls, his tone losing the pleasantness just seconds ago.

You return his gaze, unmoving, and Hoseok is on high alert, waiting for any signal from you. Your face is completely blank of any emotions but your eyes are calculative, narrowing ever so slightly that Hoseok would probably not have seen it if he hadn’t been keeping his eyes on you. With his hand behind his back, he signals the others to stay alert, something he didn’t actually have to do because unlike him, they are not new.

You stretch out a palm to Hoseok. “Your knife, please, Hoseok.”

The eight men stiffen up, sitting straight in their seats at the mention of a knife. You giggle quietly. “Relax, guys,” you say, taking the knife Hoseok passes over from his ankle strap and pulling open the right side of your coat. With one swift swipe, you make a slit and pull out a small velvet bag. You dangle it in front of you and Hoseok can hear the small stones inside. His heart is starting to beat a little faster.

One of the Sumiyoshi’s men stands up from his seat and Hoseok glares at him. The man looks coolly back at him with a crooked smile. He reaches for the briefcase and takes a few steps forward just as you stand up. Hoseok follows you as you approach the man and he can feel all the hairs on his neck rise up. He has this tingling feeling creeping down his back and everything in his being is telling him to make a break for it, pull you away and out of this building right this second.

You nod for Hoseok to take the briefcase being handed over and he does, palms sweating. Just as the man wraps his beefy hand around the velvet pouch, he lets go of the briefcase and both you and Hoseok step back almost casually, away from the man’s reach. As if a gun couldn’t do what his hands couldn’t, Hoseok thinks darkly, but relief all the same as he literally pulls you by your coat back to your seat.

Hoseok watches as the pouch trades hands to Kenji who unlaces it and tips the content into the palm of his hand and immediately Hoseok understands. The diamonds are raw diamonds, uncut and untraceable, and mostly, very much illegal. Although the price of raw diamonds is cheap, the fact that it’s unregistered gives the owner an infinite capacity to manipulate them. The business isn’t about money at all; it’s about power. The handle of the briefcase burns that much hotter in Hoseok’s hand and he’s confident he won’t find cash inside. It’s too light anyway.

You lean over and take the briefcase from him, setting it on the table. Opening it, you reveal the content inside for Hoseok to see. A single envelope lays in the middle, thin and white, and you take it and pull out the paper inside. Hoseok glances at it. It’s a list of names, none of which Hoseok recognises. You fold the paper into a tiny square before slipping it into the same opened seam from where the diamond was hidden earlier and one pull at a thread, the pocket closes up nicely.

“It’s nice doing business with you, sweetheart,” Kenji says as he puts away the diamonds.

“Likewise,” you reply with a smile, closing the briefcase and sliding it back across the table. “If there’s nothing else, then I better get going.”

“Did you hear about the Ryuukais?”

You pause and raise your eyes to look at Kenji. “Unfortunate, yes.”

“Mhmm.” Kenji places a cigar in between his lips, sits back, cuts the tip and lights it up. He blows out a puff of smoke before saying, “Didn’t you wrap up a deal with them just the night before?”

You don’t respond, training your face to remain calm. There’s a small smile on your lips bordering on acidic, looking nowhere near as sweet as it did earlier. “Yes, I did, actually.”

“How did it go?”

Hoseok watches your jaw ticks before you answer. “We both know I can’t disclose information about the businesses I deal with. It’s confidential.”

Hoseok doesn’t like the way the men are looking at you; eyes leery with a hint of amusement, like they know something Hoseok doesn’t, like they’re shared a joke earlier and are now recalling it in their heads. He steps closer to you. His men outside must have noticed as there’s a flurry of voices in his ear as they check the surrounding areas. They are trained to read body languages and Hoseok’s body language, through the lens of their snipers, is screaming danger.

“From what I heard it didn’t go very well,” he adds, puffing on the thick cigar. “I must say, should we ever come to a disagreement of sorts, would we be next?”

You smile at him but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I assure you it wasn’t just a disagreement, Kenji-san. As long as we remain cordial and honest, I can see our relationship going beyond into the future.”

Kenji looks at you, blinking lazily as if he’s contemplating on something. At that moment, you remember something; the Ryuukais and the Sumiyoshi are practically brothers. This isn’t going to go well. You had been so focused on the deal that you forgot this little detail and now it makes sense why they moved the meeting up. As much as you had been stressing about the meeting, they had also been eager to see you.

Fuck. How the fuck did you miss this?

Kenji stands up, the cigar in between his fingers. *I don’t know about our relationship going into the future,” he says as softly as if he’s talking about the weather.

Something passes over Hoseok’s eyes that makes him blink and the next thing he knows is looking at the faint red dot in the middle of your chest. He doesn’t even think about it, doesn’t even get to register what he’s doing until it’s done and he’s pinning you to the floor and the window to the side has burst into a million pieces. His men immediately go into cover and retrieve mode; fanning out on your sides, guns blazing, returning bullets with the eight men on the other end, hunkering down and using the table and chairs as shields.

Hoseok doesn’t wait for you to regain your balance, pulling up on your feet and dragging out of the room by the wrist before pulling you under his arm, using his jacket to shield your upper half as you both run across the room. He can hear the shouts of his snipers in his ears, exchanging information about the enemies location and readjusting their positions so they can cover your exit. Hoseok lunges for the emergency stairs and escorts you all the way down. As you both burst out into the lobby, you are met with a group of gunmen, not yours, but the Sumiyoshi’s, with their guns drawn.

Hoseok jumps forward, pushing you behind him and he starts shooting. The sound of guns going on ring in your ears and you see your car pulling up, bullets bouncing off of its bulletproof windows.

“Go, go, go!” Hoseok shouts angrily from over his shoulder and you run like hell, Hoseok close behind you. A bullet zips past you and bounces off the car’s body and you duck. It’s the exact moment when Hoseok comes flying into you, holding his abdomen. “Fuck,” he hisses, sitting up, grimacing, and continuing to shoot to the men now two left.

Panicking, you get the door open and attempt to drag Hoseok in but he’s too preoccupied to cooperate with you. When he realises what you’re trying to do, he pushes off onto his feet and walks backward to enter the car. He manages to half-turn and roughly shoves you in first that you tumble into the backseat. A bullet hits Hoseok on the neck and he screams as he’s flung backward. One final shot of Hoseok’s gun, the last man outside is thrown to the floor and you finally manage to pull the door closed, the car screeching away from the building.

In the silence of the car, with your ears still ringing, you shift to Hoseok, clamping down on the side of his neck, blood seeping from in between his fingers. First, you tore away his suit jacket, remembering that he had been shot in the stomach but there’s no signs of blood, except for the hole in his shirt. Then you see the Kevlar vest and actually sigh with relief. Hoseok groans in pain and you realise he still has a hole in his neck.

“Back to the office! Tell Jimin to have a doctor ready!” you scream at the driver, probably too loudly as you can’t quite hear your own voice, mostly from the panic in your chest, partly from the tinnitus that won’t go away. You help Hoseok clamp down over his hand, praying that they get there in time.

During the whole car ride back to the office, Hoseok’s eyes never left yours and for once since you met him, there was no iciness in them, just pure concern and worry, especially when he reaches over and touches the bleeding scratch on your cheek. “Sorry for that,” he croaks and you swat his hand away.

“Hush,” you chastise him, angry that he had the time to worry about a scratch when he’s bleeding out all over your car.

***

Jimin holds the door open as you help Hoseok into the office, alarmed at the sight of blood all over your hands and Hoseok’s.

“Have you sent in the retrieval team for the others?” you bark at Jimin under the weight of your Head of Security.

“They’re already on the way,” Jimin replies. “The doctor’s inside.” He rushes forward to help open the door to your private office before helping you transfer Hoseok into a chair. Dr. Min Yoongi steps up, gently prying your hand off of the bleeding area so he can take a look at Hoseok. There’s a lot of blood and he gets to work cleaning the wound area so he can see better.

He glances up at you. “I need you to move your ass and sit over there. You’re in the way, sis.”

Begrudgingly, you step back but don’t sit down, watching with eagle eyes as your brother works with a gauge and a pair of forceps to dab away the mess. Jimin turns you around and pats you all over. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.” You shrug him off, focused only on Hoseok, white as a sheet. “Go and make sure the others get back safely.”

Jimin looks reluctant to move but at least he’s made sure you’re fine. Finally, he walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. You go to sit in the chair next to Hoseok, who’s turned the other way to let Yoongi access the wound area. He hisses with every dab and once the place is clear enough, Yoongi releases a sigh.

“What? How bad is it?” you ask, sitting on the edge of your seat.

“It’s just a graze,” Yoongi explains with a scoff. “But it must have hit close to the main artery. I just need to close it off and he’ll be fine.”

Relief washes over you and you feel your limbs go weak. Thankfully, you’re in a chair already and slump backward, throwing your head back. Yoongi watches you carefully as he fixes up the other man, amused at the fact you care this much.

“Still hurts like a motherfucker,” Hoseok groans through gritted teeth.

Yoongi chuckles. “I’ve seen worse wounds. You’ll live.”

“Try and get shot at and let me know if you feel the same,” mumbles Hoseok and Yoongi only laughs. “Stay still, punk,” Yoongi tells him.

It doesn’t take long. Once the wound is patched up, the blood immediately stops and Yoongi administered him a shot for the pain because now that the adrenaline is gone, Hoseok is starting to ache everywhere. The spot where his bulletproof vest had been shot at is starting to bloom a nasty-looking bruise. All the while, you stayed by his side.

When Yoongi finishes and Hoseok has shuffled into your powder room to change into a fresh T-shirt, Yoongi pulls you aside as he packs up. “So, what’s up with the new guy?” At the surprised look on your face, he adds, “Jimin told me while we were waiting.”

“Oh.”

“Well?”

You give him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“You’re hovering over him,” says Yoongi with an eye-roll. “You never hover, never mind an employee.”

You frown at him. “He almost died protecting me.”

“First, he didn’t. It’s just a graze,” Yoongi corrects, counting on a finger, then adding another. “Second, that’s his job. Plus, I never see you fawn over Hank the same way.”

“I wasn’t fawning!” you retort, scowling as you watch Yoongi stuff his bags. “Was I?”

“Sis,” Yoongi laughs, zipping up his bag and going for the door. “Seriously, figure that out yourself. I’m going to wait outside for words about the others. From the sound of things, it’s not looking good and I might have to call in Jin for help. Wait, you’re not going to hover over the other men, right?”

You pull a face at him. “Get out.”

“You’re very welcome, sis,” he says sarcastically as he leaves.

“What was that about?”

You jump, whirling around to see Hoseok standing there, neck bandaged, touching the gauze gingerly. You approach him, eyeing the bandage to make sure Yoongi did a good job. Of course he did. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” he answers, sitting down. Under the light of your office directly above him, you notice that you can see the hope tattoo through the T-shirt. Hoseok notices you looking at the spot on his chest. To redirect your attention, he asks, “You still have the vest on?”

You look down at yourself. “Oh, yeah.” You start to paw at the velcro of the vest but without taking off your own blouse, you wouldn’t be able to take the Kevlar off and for some reason, you keep struggling with it. Hoseok watches you silently for a few minutes, noting the faraway look in your eyes, the way your lower lip quivers and realises that you’re just coming down from the adrenaline now.

He stands up and walks over to you, as quietly as he can as you continue to struggle. Once he’s standing in front of you, just a foot apart, you finally look up and something squeezes Hoseok’s heart like a vice at the sight of your Bambi eyes. A sneak attack, he thinks, right after I’ve been shot. So unfair.

Without a word, Hoseok hooks his fingers around the hem of your blouse and pulls it off; he does it in slow motion, waiting every second for you to protest, to tell him to fuck off. But you don’t, standing there almost listlessly, letting him undress you. Then, he works on the Kevlar, strapping it off of you and throwing it into the chair where it lands heavily. Now, you’re both standing there, motionless; him with his wrapped neck, you in your bra.

Your eyes are glued to the spot where the tattoo on his chest is and this time you don’t bother to pretend ignorance. With tentative fingers, you reach out to touch it over the T-shirt and Hoseok lets you, watching you curiously. On a whim, he takes off the shirt and watches you stare, a little wide-eyed at the tattoo. There’s recognition in the way you’re looking at it and Hoseok’s confirmed on what he already knows.

You touch the tattoo, your finger hot on his skin. Again, call it a whim or call it immaturity because Hoseok is suddenly angry for whatever reason - probably from what just went down earlier, because as much as he has had experience with shooting a gun, he had never had to shoot at someone before and having it shot back in his direction, because target practice in the military don’t shoot back and he’s starting to feel that he wasn’t fully prepared for the whole shitshow - he presses your palm over the tattoo.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say something,” he hisses into your face. “I know you know.” You try to pull away but Hoseok holds you in place, taking one step forward and pinning you against the desk, anger surging. “I know you know who I am and I bet you’ve fantasised about me, too, in bed. Haven’t you?”

The anger swells up though he can’t quite pinpoint what the cause is. He’s angry that no one told him that he could die on the job? He’s angry at himself for being so lackadaisical about it when signing the damn employee contract? He’s angry at you for not saying anything and treating him for a fool, the same way you didn’t warn him that a meeting could go south in a blink of an eye? None of the reasons, if Hoseok was thinking clearly, made any sense because he’s not a child. But he’s angry all the same and he needs to direct it somewhere. He nearly fucking die, damn it!

You’re quiet, not saying anything, only looking back at him, breathing heavily. That only makes him angrier. “You have, haven’t you? When you realised who I was, did you fantasise about this, too? Hoya taking you on this desk, in this office?”

He’s squeezing the flesh on your side. “Answer me, goddammit!”

“I don’t,” you finally whisper.

“Liar!” he growls, face inches from yours. “Admit that you’ve been fantasising about him in your bed and how much you want him to fuck you right here!” He slams his fist into the desk. “Admit it!”

You meet his gaze. “I don’t. I don’t fantasise about Hoya.” In a lower voice as you look away, you add, “Not anymore.”

It feels like having to admit your deepest, darkest secret in public and you’ve never felt so humiliated. Forget about bruised egos, you wish the floor would just open up and swallow you whole. Your fantasy lover, your sweet, sexy Hoya has been slowly disintegrating in your mind the day you realised who Hoseok was, slowly, slowly replacing with images of the real person, Hoseok himself. Lusting for a coworker is sexual harassment, your own voice echoes in your head.

You hook a finger through a belt loop in his pants and pull him closer, crotch to crotch and immediately you can feel him, hard and poking against your pubic bone. Looking him in the eye, you say, “I don’t fantasise about Hoya.”

For a moment, Hoseok can’t comprehend what you’re saying; the fact that his cock is pressing up against you could be the main reason why his brains are scrambled. There’s a petulance in the look in your eyes and the way you’re looking at him challengingly, daring him to take the hint and act on it. Why are you doing this to him? Why do you make him so angry? Why is he so angry?

The fact that you did, in the past, had fantasised about the adult model leaves him with a bitter taste in his mouth at the unfairness. Why does Hoya get everything? Even you, for a moment. “Why not?” he asks, genuinely curious. “Why not anymore?”

You lean on your tiptoes, pressing your palms against his chest, the spot where his cock is digging in searing hot. “Because,” you say, your breath falling on his lips. “I’ve been fantasising about you, Jung Hoseok. I don’t want Hoya anymore when I have the real thing right here.” You lean in closer. “But, I won’t do anything. I’m your boss.”

You push him away, catching him by surprise that he stumbles backward a few steps. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I-”

Hoseok grabs your wrist and wrenches you backward. “Actually,” he says, purring into your ear, “you’re not my boss anymore. As of five o’clock just now, my contract ended.”

You scowl at the clock on the wall: 5.01. You glance back at Hoseok, arching an eyebrow. “And?”

“Fuck, you make my blood boil,” he hisses, eyes glaring at you angrily, mouth connecting with yours without a warning, teeth gnashing together that you taste blood on your tongue the same way you can taste Hoseok’s overflowing emotions. You recognise it well, have gone through it in the past too many times too much after every gunfight. It’s not anger that he’s feeling but he probably hasn’t figured that out yet, confusing it with anger because that’s the emotion he knows and can place.

He’s still running on adrenaline, never switching off his fight-or-flight response and since he had been on fight mode to get you out of the situation earlier, he’s still there, but since there’s nothing to fight, he’s channelling it differently. To be honest, you’re still in that same haze, too, probably why you never fight him off when he kisses you, probably also why you pull him in closer, pressing your front up against him and letting him lift you up and plops you on the edge of the desk. He needs this as much as you do.

“Tell me,” he says in between kisses, “what do you want me to do, my lady?”

The words my lady makes a shiver run down your spine, even more when he says it like that; spitefully, sarcastically. The fire burning in Hoseok’s eyes is somehow turning you on even more than the icy cold look that Hoya always has. You want that fire to burn you, too, and maybe it could clean away all the parts you hate and free you of the burden you’ve felt since taking over the company. You want Hoseok to incinerate you if it means liberation.

Hoseok peppers your neck with kisses so rough little red spots dot your skin. As he sucks on your earlobe, you let out a whine that only fuels him on. “FYI, I’m better than him,” he growls and only for a second, you wonder why he refers to Hoya in the third person but the thought completely wipes out from your mind the moment he pulls your bra down and wraps his mouth around your already perky nipple.

You lean back on your hands, giving him free access, clamping your mouth shut from making any noise but the way he rolls your nipple in between his teeth and tongue almost makes you lose it. There’s a soft knock on the door but you ignore it, your eyes closed and focused on Hoseok’s mouth. It’s not long until he’s shimmying off your pants and underwear together, kneeling by the desk, fingers digging into your thighs as he keeps your legs from closing around his head.

You’re already so wet that when Hoseok’s mouth lands on your soaked cunt, he makes this loud slurping sound as he sucks on your throbbing clit. This time, you bite onto your arm to keep from screaming out. That long tongue you’ve seen on posters, that you’ve dreamed of having on you, is now actually teasing and prodding your entrance, tongue-fucking you so well you’re starting not to care that they are people outside the door, one of them your own older brother.

Hoseok stands up and the strain in his pants is very much evident. He doesn’t even bother to take it off fully, pushing it down to his knees, enough to spring his length free for you to finally gaze at its glory. It’s exactly like the poster but much larger, sticking up erect against his stomach. Without wasting time, you widen your legs as an invite and Hoseok lines himself up. He glides it over your clit a few times, gathering your juice before slowly, painfully slowly, sinks in, letting your warmth cover him tip to base, feeling every ridge of your wall swallow him whole. You pulsate around him, adjusting to his size as he leans his forehead against yours.

Something inside you screams that this isn’t the time or place for this type of debauchery but the way Hoseok’s eyes set you on fire, you can barely think clearly. You can hear familiar voices outside your door and can tell that Yoongi must have called Jin over. There’s a soft knock on the door and Hoseok growls, “Fuck off,” and whoever is on the other side must have heard the fury in his voice and doesn’t bother to knock again.

“Your team needs medical attention when they get back,” you say breathlessly, fully aware of the parts of you and Hoseok that are connected. “We should-”

Hoseok pulls out and rams in, knocking the breath out of you in a loud gasp as your toes curl at the delicious feeling. “Finally found a way to shut you up, My Lady,” he comments with a smirk. “See if you can keep quiet for me.”

The desk rattles underneath you but you’re stubborn in your own ways, clamping your mouth shut, whimpering in your throat as you brace your knuckles against the surface of the desk. Hoseok pounds into you until your eyes roll back into your head, him grunting softly, you a whining mess. Unsatisfied and annoyed, Hoseok pulls you off the desk and readjust you, hitting you from the back while holding one of your legs up by the knee, an angle that lets him reach in deep, leaving your mouth hanging open, not even a squeak uttered as it feels like you can barely breathe. The sound of wet skin slapping against skin is resounding in your ears.

“Look at you, taking orders so well,” Hoseok hisses in my ear. “Is this what you fantasise about happening between you and Hoya?”

“Just get it over and done with,” you snap back, leaning against the desk for support. You can hear a slight commotion outside the door as the team left behind is back. You can hear the scraping of furniture as things are being moved around to create space.

Again Hoseok wrenches your wrist over to your office chair, guiding you to straddle him. Once you slide back onto his length, sighing softly, Hoseok roughly cups your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “Look at me so you can see it’s not Hoya,” he orders. “I want you to remember that it’s me making you feel this way, me stuffing you full. Not him.”

You nod weakly, wanting nothing than to appease the fire in his eyes, the same fire that seems to be burning stronger in the pit of your stomach with every plunge as you move on top of him. You can feel that familiar twist, the coiling of pleasure as it winds tighter and tighter. Hoseok gets the signal from the way you fist his shirt and the way your pussy clenches harder around his cock. You’re close and so is he.

You’re losing momentum, growing tired from having to move on tiptoes to have as much control on your movements so Hoseok places both hands over your ass and lifts you up, transporting you onto the desk once again, your back flat on it. Then he gets to work; his strokes are relentless yet even, assisted by how overflowing your cunt is, making everything that much more pleasurable.

“I’m close,” you manage to squeak out.

“Keep your eyes open,” Hoseok warns but this time his voice is softer. “Keep your eyes on me, princess. Say my name.”

You’re a little confused but obliged, his name coming out in a whisper at first. The orgasm is close now. “Louder,” urges Hoseok, chasing it.

“Hoseok,” you mumble, spreading your legs wider, letting him hit exactly in that sweet spot. You’re oh so close your back is arching off the desk. “Hoseok.” Your voice is growing louder and the desk makes a loud sound as it’s suddenly pushed back slightly.

Not a minute later, you’re pulling Hoseok in by the neck, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the scream spilling from your lips as you orgasm hard enough for Hoseok to have a few last strokes before pulling out and spilling all over your stomach, covering your skin with hot milky liquid that you barely pay attention to as you come down from your high. When you finally let go of Hoseok, a crimson set of teeth marks bloom on the shoulder of his shirt.

Hoseok glances at the spot, frowning. “You bit me.”

“You told me to be quiet,” you retort sweetly.

***

Your office door finally opens and Jimin sighs, “Finally, thank God! You finally decide to-”

He stops, looking at you from head to toe, noticing that you’re in a pair of jeans and a loose T-shirt, not what you were wearing earlier. Hoseok is also in a fresh dark T. You fake nonchalance, typing up your hair into a ponytail to manage the mess and walk over to Yoongi tending to one of your men. He doesn’t seem to have any serious wounds. Hoseok goes over to the others, crouching on the floor to talk to one of them.

Yoongi doesn’t even bother looking up but there’s a smug look on his face. “Finished debriefing your Head of Security?”

You catch Yoongi looking at you in the reflection in the window and glare at him. “Yes. It was satisfactory.” He snorts a laugh but doesn’t say anything more.

The team came back mostly intact, suffering from light wounds that can easily be taken care of. After the doctors finished looking at them, Hoseok takes them to another room to have a post mortem regarding the situation and you help Yoongi and Jin pack up. Jimin is already on the phone with the clean-up crew, occasionally flicking his eyes over at you like he’s got something to say and is antsy to say it.

Honestly, you’re not up to dealing with him right now, so you pack up your things and head home. Jimin will take care of things, that much you know, and you’ll deal with the Sumiyoshi another day. Right now, all you can think about is your bed and how warm and safe it would feel under the thick blankets because now that the adrenaline is gone, you feel bone tired, dragging your feet as you arrive home and climb into bed.

You must have dozed off because when you open your eyes again, the room is dark and someone is ringing your doorbell incessantly. You get up and squint at the intercom through your sleepy eyes and see Hoseok standing in the lobby area, waiting to be let in with one hand against his hip.

“What is it?” you croak through the speaker, hoping he'll just go away.

Hoseok looks up directly into the camera. “Let me in already.”

“Just go away.”

You watch as he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He holds up a paper bag to the camera. “I suppose you’re not hungry then.”

Your stomach lets out a loud rumble.

***

You eat in silence, Hoseok sitting across from you as he pushes his food around with his fork, watching your plate to make sure your food is eaten.

“How’d you know my favourite shop?” you ask, trying to alleviate the awkwardness.

“Jimin,” he grunts out.

Suddenly, the memories of earlier in the office come rushing in and your fork pauses just inches from your lips. “Oh,” you say quietly. “Did he, um…did he say anything to you?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “Why? Should he?”

You shrug, feeling a little relieved. “Just wondering.”

Hoseok puts down his fork and crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you two in a weird situationship or something? Because I’m not going to waste my time getting in the middle of that.”

You almost choke on your food as you laugh, shaking your head and coughing, fingers wiping your eyes. “Where the hell did you get that idea from?”

“You guys look really close.” You look up and can’t believe to see the pout on his face as he looks down to the floor, scowling. Something about the way he looks at that moment makes you feel weirdly protective of him.

“We are,” you say, continuing to eat. “We practically grew up together. He had been there since the beginning and I guess we bonded over shared trauma.”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow.

You chuckle. “It’s just something we say. When my grandfather died, we were both only seventeen, fresh out of high school. He was the grandson of my grandfather’s right-hand man who died the same day my grandfather did. Well, you can imagine how.”

Hoseok gives a small nod.

“Yeah, well, after that, it was a whole shitshow of finding a successor and because I’m a girl, the company wasn’t confident. But my grandfather’s will was ironclad so they sent me off to college and groomed me to be the next head. Jimin, too. He would have been a professional dancer by now, you know? If they had let him be.”

Hoseok watches you stare into your plate, barely eating now. There’s a melancholy in your voice and a bittersweet smile lingering on your lips. “Jimin tells me that he agreed to the role so he can keep an eye on me,” you laugh, “but I’m certain that he was subjected to more pressure than I was and not with words.” You give him a knowing look. “So when I finally stepped into the position, I swore I was going to do things differently.”

Hoseok scoffs. “Is it really any different now?”

You smile at him. “My grandfather led the top underground organisation of his time. This company is built on the bones of his enemies. Literally.”

“You still deal with the same type of people,” Hoseok points out.

You sigh. “Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can never wash off the bloodstains. Not completely.” You stand up and collect the plates, bringing them over to the sink. “Enough about me. What about you?”

“What about me?”

You lean against the sink, looking at him. “Look, I know you know that I know you’re Hoya, let’s get that out in the open now. Yes, I buy those stupid magazines, kill me.”

He smirks but his eyes clouded over. “I thought lusting over a coworker is wrong.”

You roll your eyes. “We’re not coworkers, I’m your boss.”

“Which makes it even worse.”

You let out a groan. “Seriously, stop trying to distract me!”

“From what?”

“From demanding that you just admit it.”

“Admit what?”

That you’re Hoya! That you work as an adult model on the side!” You’re so frustrated now you’re actually screaming at Hoseok who only looks mildly amused.

“I’m not,” he says simply.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever, I don’t care,” you snap, proceeding to start doing the dishes. “You can go now. I’m just going back to bed after this.”

Hoseok stands up and walks over to stand next to you. He leans over slightly so you’re forced to look at him. “I’m not Hoya,” he repeats.

“I saw the tattoo on your chest,” you retort. “You don’t have to lie.”

Hoseok touches the spot over his T-shirt. “Yeah, we got matching tattoos.”

You give him an incredulous look. “What the hell? Do you have some kind of multiple personality thing or something?”

“No, I don’t. I’m not Hoya, and Hoya isn’t me.”

You stare at him, the water running in the background. “I don’t get it.”

Hoseok leans back against the kitchen cabinet. “He’s my twin.”

“What kind of bullshit is that?”

“I have a twin brother. It’s not bullshit,” Hoseok reiterates, frowning. He fishes out his phone from his pocket, scrolls around on it and produces a photo to show you. “See? Twins.”

You stare, open-mouthed, at the picture of two identical men; one clearly Hoseok with his serious face, barely a smile, the other one the complete opposite with a bright smile and a peace sign over his eyes, his other arm thrown over Hoseok’s shoulders.

“Holy shit,” you breathe out. “You’re twins!”

“Like I was telling you,” Hoseok replies, rolling his eyes and putting the phone away.

“Wow,” you say again. “That’s…that’s…”

Hoseok crosses his arms again, the smirk on his face growing into a grin. “Yeah, you lusted over your employee’s family member. Should I report to HR?”

Flustered, you tell him, “Actually your contract ended so you’re not my employee anymore.” You turn back around to do the dishes, hiding the fact that your face is burning red.

Hoseok nods. “Right.”

You feel his arms snake around your middle, pulling you up against him as he places his lips to your ear. “Since I’m not an employee anymore,” he whispers, “how about we continue where we left off earlier? Hmm? I heard you have a king bed.”

Against your better judgement, you melted into him. “Let me guess; Jimin told you about that too?”

Hoseok purrs. “He implied, yes.”

While Jimin prepares for battle at the office, making a few phone calls and arranging a few meetings here and there for you, you and Hoseok retreat to the bedroom and for the first time since the bed was bought, you’re about to see if the quality is as good as the brand company promised; sturdy and quiet.

You left your phone in the kitchen so you missed the text from Jimin: I hope the tall glass of water I sent your way is rejuvenating

a/n2: so I wrote this before news of jhope's enlistment came up and kinda hate myself for writing it into existance :') cmon be honest, what did you think? lol give it to me in the comments or ask IM READEHHH lmaoooo

Check out my other works → :MASTERLIST:

#bts jhope #bts hoseok #jung hoseok #hoseok x you #bts jhope x you #bts one shot #jhope one shot #hoseok one shot #bts smut #hoseok fic #jhope smut #fanfic #bts fanfic #bts jhs #jhope fanfic #hoseok fanfic

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bonezone44 · 7 months

Note

Soooooo how’s Uncle Ezra doing? Good? Is he busy? You know what? I bet his lap is cold. I better go sit on it, warm his lap up for him. 👀

Lol he’s on my mind 😏

LOL omg i love you. 🙏

He's not busy right now. He's watching a Law & Order marathon. 😂

tags: fingering, staying distracted

word count: 686

+++++++

"You wanna come warm my lap up, baby?" Ezra asks with his arm out wide--his middle fingers flicking inward and calling for you to approach.

You step around the coffee table in your thick, fuzzy slippers and settle yourself between his spread thighs. His body is warm against your back and you rest your head on his shoulder.

His broad hands slide up and down your bare arms. "These wintry temperatures are too harsh for your exposed skin, angel," he says into your ear with his breath burning hot down your neck. He takes the blanket from his shoulders and wraps it around your body as well, protecting you both from the cold damp air of the basement. His hands find your waist and you can feel his hardness pressing into your lower back, almost against your ass.

You feel yourself immediately get wet.

"There," he says. "How's that?"

"That's good," you smile and nod.

He squeezes into your flesh, hands following along the shape of your figure through your pajamas. He nods toward the TV screen. "That Jerry Orbach is a masterful actor," he says as one hand slips beneath your waistband and underwear. He cups your sex. "Did you know he was the voice of the candelabra in 1991's Beauty and the Beast?"

"No," you sigh and grip his knees.

"Mhmm." Ezra continues. "And here he is performing a no-nonsense New York detective." He huffs. "They call that 'versatility,'" he says as he slips his fingers into your wet folds. He makes no comment about your gasp. Merely slides his fingers up and around your throbbing clit. "Now Benjamin Bratt's portfolio does not express the same range as Jerry Orbach's own, but that is possibly due to type-casting or perhaps lack of opportunities considering Hollywood's well-known prejudice against actors of color."

You're half-listening to Ezra, half-watching the Law & Order interrogation scene, and half-lost in Ezra's fingers smoothly working you over. Your fingers dig into his knees through the thin cotton of his sweatpants.

"Oh hey! Look at that!" he says as he strokes your clit faster. "That's that woman from Alias--what's her name?"

"J-Jennifer G-garner," you say through panting breaths.

"That's right!" Ezra's laughter shakes your whole body. "Jennifer Garner."

You whimper.

"Wasn't she just in a movie, too?" he asks, smiling against your cheek as he dips two fingers inside of you.

You moan and roll your hips against Ezra's clothed cock. "Y-yeah," you sigh.

"What was the name of it?" he asks. "Uncle Ezra might wanna take you to the show later." He begins to curl his fingers inside of you.

Your body twitches and your breaths stutter. "Umm... Uh...." You want to come but you also don't want him to stop. "It's... It's called..." You whimper.

"It's called what?" Ezra turns his head to get a better view of your terse expression. He's all grins. He grabs your breast over your t-shirt and squeezes it in his hand. His finger gropes for your protruding nipple--pinching it once found.

"Th-th-thirteen Going on Thu-hurty," you manage to say, eyes flicking between his and the TV screen. There's a Tide commercial on now. You remember the large laundry basket up in your bedroom. It's full of clean clothes. You need to fold them and put them away already. You want Ezra's cock in your mouth.

"Thirteen Going on Thirty, huh?" he says. He presses his palm against your clit as he fingers you. Your body is writhing and his fingers curl faster inside of you.

The orgasm hits as a surprise--going white behind your eyes and you moan so loud that Ezra's hand shoots up from under the blanket to cover your mouth.

He shushes you softly. "I've got you." His hand between your legs offers a few slow strokes to your overstimulated clit. "I've got you." Your body trembles in heated waves. He wraps both arms around you and his mouth finds yours for a rough kiss of his lips and tongue.

"My special baby," he says after pulling back. "Uncle Ezra's favorite little niece." He kisses you again with only his lips.

+++++++++++++++++++++

#my writing #ezra prospect x reader #uncle!ezra

58 notes · View notes

hunted-moth · 3 months

Text

Just Like Him: The Before Times

Word count // 7k

Summary // Y/n is just a normal girl who loves to hunt with her dad. She has a loving and attentive mom. Her relationship with her brother is rocky at best but she still loves her small little life. That is until it's all turned upside down after she gets into an accident, with her dad passing away and her mom flushing her life down the toilet how is she supposed to manage when the world ends with it?

Warning // Language, character death(not twd cast), Talks of death, violence, the killing of walkers,

Special Thanks to @catbunblue302 and my friend for editing/proofreading this with me, it would be a disaster if they didn't lol

OTHER STUFF// This is just the prologue, it's kind of important but you don't have to read it. But I gave Y/n the nickname Bear, idk why but I love it so im keeping it. She also has shorter hair in the beginning and in my mind is Biracial but her race isn't brought up very much. But things like hair texture, skin color, and eye color aren't mentioned or described so it is up to you how Y/n looks to you

A/N // its in gods hands now. this is like half edited by someone who knows what they're doing and the other half done by me at like 11:00 at night.

***: Major time Skip/scene change

*: small time skip/scene change

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

~~~2005~~~

It was early in the morning, maybe five or six. You were fast asleep dreaming about nothing and everything, but while you lay sleeping, a figure crept into the room being careful not to wake you.

When he got to your bed, he hovered over it ready to pounce on you. You were snoring into the night, unaware of what was about to happen as he snaked his hands under the cover skillfully and-

“Wake up, bear! We got lots to do kid.” Your Dad tickled your sides as you yelped and writhed from joy.

“Dad! Sto-stop I can't brea-breathe,” you laughed.

He smiled down at you before he got up, releasing that classic dad grunt while laughing quietly.

“Alright, get dressed, then get something to eat.”

You smirked up at him and flung your cover off yourself.

“Already one step ahead of you,”you say, revealing to him that you were already dressed in your hunting clothes, minus your boots.

He chuckled quietly, careful not to wake up his wife and stepson. He nodded his head, telling you to get up and go to the kitchen. You rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a bowl and spoon, and had some fruity pebbles. Your dad just had a pop-tart that he popped in the toaster.

While he was waiting for it to ding, he looked at you. He saw you scarf down your food as fast as you could.

“You know you can enjoy it, right?” he teased, but you just looked up at him while the spoon was still in your mouth.

“I know, just eager to leave.” Your mouth was full and milk streamed out of your mouth.

Your dad just rolled his eyes and chuckled.

POP!

He grabbed his food and went to sit with you. Looking up, you asked him a question. “So what are we doing today?”

Your dad took a bite of his pop-tart. “Hmm, well I was thinking about going into town and getting some more snacks for the trip. Maybe some extra bug spray.”

You nodded at that. “Yeah, they love me for some reason.”

He smirked. “Yeah, it's ‘cause you got sweet blood, they like it.”

Your eyes widened. “WHAT!” You practically yelled.

You covered your mouth hoping not to awaken your half-brother and mom.

But it didn't help.

“The hell’s all this racket!?” Your older brother, Jason, stormed in with an annoyed and tired look on his face.

You looked at your brother when he walked over. He was three years older which made it easier for him to ignore you. He was indifferent towards you, like you didn't matter to him. The only time he gave you any attention was when you irritated him, like you were bothering him with your existence.

Jason and your dad had a hard relationship. For some reason, Jason was always rude to him. Whenever your mom wanted to tease Jason she would explain how when she and Dad had started dating Jason would throw fits when Dad came over. And how Jason would stare at your dad with a mean glare. Jason had the meanest glare, it could put the old judgy ladies at church to shame.

“Sorry, son, me and your sister were just talking about our trip.”

Jason seemed to glare at the word ‘son’. Your brother looked at the clock on the wall with a sleepy stare. “It's five in the mornin', so stop yellin' in the house, Y/n.'' He looked down at you as he walked over and made a bowl of cereal, the same as you.

“O-okay, sorry.” You looked down meekly at your nearly empty bowl.

Your dad sighed, “Well, we're about to leave.”He looked at Jason. “You sure you don't want to come with us, Jason? Wouldn’t be any trouble.”

He responded with a quick “No.”

Relief washed over you.

“I’d rather shoot by myself than with her.” He glared at you.

You looked away from his glare and shrank into yourself.

Your Dad sighed and got up. You copied him and went to put your bowl in the sink. You rushed to your room and went to get your bag and put your boots on. By the time you left, it was about five-thirty in the morning, and the sun was already starting to rise as you and your dad got into his truck and started driving to town.

Looking out the window, you could see the familiar trees and a few birds flying by. You always loved the woods. It was quiet, yet the singing of birds could still be heard in the distance. Looking into the rearview mirror, you could see your cabin disappearing in the distance.

“You excited, kid?”

Turning your head, you looked at your dad with a smile, “Yes!” you exclaimed excitedly.

Your dad chuckled. “Oh, I bet, bear, but uhh, been wanting to talk to ya ‘bout something.”

You tilted your head with curiosity. “What, Dad?”

He sighed lightly. “Yer teacher called your Momma and me yesterday to discuss your schooling. They said you were falling behind in yer work, withdrawing from other kids, and advised me to talk to you. Can you tell me why, bear?”

You looked out the window without answering.

“I won't push you right now, but if you ever want to talk,” he trailed off and rubbed your shoulder the best he could while driving.

***

By the time the truck made it to town, the sun was up. The truck pulled into the mini-mart. You jumped out of the truck and waited for your dad, before sprinting into the mart and grabbing different snacks you liked. You had an armful by the time you returned to your dad at the counter.

He looked down and his eyes widened at your selection. “Jeez, Bear, you going into hibernation?” He let out a hearty laugh. Grinning at him, you put your snacks on the checkout counter.

“One thing I love about you two coming in here-” The owner started to ring up your stuff, “I always make money.”

Your dad waved his hand at them dismissively before grabbing the bags and handing them to you.

“Let's get a move on, don't want to miss any of the good spots.” Hopping into the truck, Dad started it and headed out to your campsite.

***

A few hours had passed by the time you made it to the site. Hopping out of the truck, you went around back to the truck bed and grabbed your bag and bow. Your dad set up the tents and you set up the fire pit, gathering some rocks and stacking them, then went to find some sticks.

When it all was done, your dad came over and patted you on the shoulder. “Ready, Bear?”

You looked up at him. “Yeah!”

You grabbed your bow and followed him into the woods. Stopping at a clearing, your dad put his stuff down and stood next to you.

“All right, Y/n, you remember what I taught you?” He knelt as you grabbed an arrow and drew your bow back.

“Where do you want me to shoot?” You looked at him.

He thought for a moment, looking around, till he stopped his gaze at a certain tree with a unique-looking branch that hung low on the ground. He pointed. “See the knot in the tree? Shoot that.”

You nodded your head and tightened the bow once more.

You held your breath and focused on the knot on the branch, taking a second before you released your arrow. You heard a thunk as it hit the tree and you looked to see if you had hit the knot, but sadly your aim was a little off. It was a few inches to the right. “Aww, I missed it.” You kicked the dirt slightly.

Your dad stood up and went to retrieve the arrow. “It’s ok, sweetheart, you're getting better just remember that.” He tried to cheer you up. “Remember when I first took you out here? Your arrow would be two or three feet away from the target.”

You smiled to yourself.“Thanks, Dad.”

He walked over and crouched down to your height. “Now let's try again.”

He handed you your arrow and ruffled your hair. You smiled to yourself. Regaining your stance, you drew back your bow and released another arrow. You hit it closer every time. And when you finally manage to hit it after your third time, you jumped up and down in joy.

“Good job, Bear, why don't we try something harder hmm?”

You nodded, and he took your quiver, put it over his shoulder, and took your hand, leading you deeper into the woods.

***

It took hours before you returned to your camp, the whole time spent practicing your aim on things besides the normal target. By the time the sun was down, your dad decided it was time to head back.

Your dad had started the fire and was cooking some hot dogs for the two of you. “You have fun, Bear?”

You look at him. “Yeah, I got better at my aim I think. What about you Dad?” You ask, tilting your head at him.

“Hmm, it was amusing to see you miss sometimes.” He pulled out your food from the fire while you groaned with embarrassment.

You ate your food while looking up at the stars. “Hey Dad, what's that one called?” You pointed up at the sky.

“Hmm, I think it's Orion. He was a skilled hunter who used a bow, and some say he managed to woo the heart of the virgin archer. He even claimed that he ‘could hunt any and every animal’, but Momma Gaia heard this and sent a mighty scorpion after him, which is why–” he lead your head to another part of the sky. “–If you can find him, you’ll see Scorpius, the very same scorpion that killed him.”

Looking at the stars, your mouth was agape. “Wow,” you whispered under your breath and rested your head on his shoulder.

After a few hours, you and your dad went to bed.

***

The end of your weekend trip went by fast, and before you knew it, you were on your way home eating a bag of chips while listening to the radio.

Your dad was focused on the road, but the conversation about your schooling was still playing in his head. "Bear, we still need to talk." He said. You paused for a moment, not wanting to have this conversation. Since starting school, you've had trouble keeping up with the other kids. Since you were behind, your classmates would treat you differently.

"I don't want to talk about it," you said, looking down at the floor.

Your Dad looked over, sadly. "Can you tell me about it? You don't have to tell me everything."

"The others treat me differently, and I don't know why.” You looked out the window again, trying to focus on the songs the birds were singing.

Stopping the truck, your dad pulled you into an embrace. “It’s ok, Y/n, I'll tell your Momma and we’ll talk to your teacher, okay?” He looked down and rubbed your shoulder, waiting for an answer.

“O-okay.” Your voice was muffled

The truck started again and you both drove off toward your cabin.

***

When you got home, it was around dinner time. Since it was a Sunday your mom was making your favorite for dinner. Your truck pulled up, and you ran out of the cab and into the arms of your momma.

“MOMMA!” You tackled her, sending her stumbling back a bit.

“Hey, baby, how was your trip?” she asked with a loving smile.

Looking up at her, you gave her a big grin. “It went awesome! I got better on my aim and distance.”

She smiled down at you. “Well, that's amazing, maybe one day you’ll be better than yer daddy.” She ruffled your hair. “Now come on, supper’s cooking, want you and yer daddy to get washed up.” She shooed you away into the house.

Running to your room, you grabbed some shorts, a T-shirt, and other stuff and ran to the bathroom, but your brother was walking by and had a sour look on his face.

“Yer back.”

You looked down. “Yeah, how was it here?”

He glared down at you. “Peaceful, shoulda stayed that way.” He walked past you and bumped your shoulder.

***

When you got out of your shower, you went to the kitchen to help your mom cook but just ended up sitting on the counter and telling her about your trip with your dad.

“Then Dad told me to shoot an apple that was still on the tree.” You told her excitedly.

“Wow, baby, did ya hit it?”

You nodded. “Yep, it fell and knocked down some apples with it. Dad and I ate them on our walk back to camp.”

“Sounds like you two had quite the adventure.” Your mom said as she stirred the pot.

She took the pot off the burner and walked to the dinner table. You followed her and sat down.

“Yep, it was.” While your mom grabbed other things for dinner, you helped set the table.

“BOYS, DINNERS READY!” she called.

Dad came out of the garage and Jason came out of his room. You sat next to Mom, across from Jason, and Dad across from Mom. After everyone was seated, Mom said grace and you all ate dinner. You ate yours quickly while Jason picked and prodded at his.

When you finished dinner, you kissed your Mom and Dad good night and went to bed. You lay under your blanket, looking at your glow-in-the-dark stars, and drifted off to sleep.

~~~ 2005, A few weeks later~~~

It all happened in a blur. You and Dad were driving back from your trip in the forest, and you even managed to bag a rabbit all on your own. One minute you were on your way to register what you had, then you were waking up in a hospital with your Momma by your side, crying and a local sheriff on your other side gearing up to ask you a few questions

“Momma…” Your voice was weak. “What happened?”

She grabbed your hand and kissed it. “You were in an accident, baby.”

Your eyes widened the best they could but you were still loopy. “What?” You looked around the room, your heartbeat picking up. “Where’s Dad?” Your voice was starting to hurt.

Your Momma cried, her tears falling on your hospital bed. “He-He didn't make it, baby.”

You looked up at the ceiling and silently cried with your Momma.

“Mrs Myers, I’d like to speak with your daughter alone, to get her account of the story.” The sheriff gently led her out of the room, then sat next to you and asked you a series of questions.

“Now, Y/n, I understand you and your dad were driving, do you know where?”

You choked back a sob before you answered. “The a- the game warden's office.”

He wrote that down. “Can you tell me what you and your daddy were doing before then?”

Licking your lips, you replied, “We were out camping like- like we always do. He was showing me how to hunt.”

He nodded and wrote that down too.“Do you remember anything while you were driving to the game office?”

You thought for a moment. “I was talking to Dad when suddenly he threw his hand in front of me then…everything went black.” You started to cry, all your emotions catching up with you.

The sheriff looked down at you with sympathy and leaned over you to rest his hand on your head. “Just get some rest, Y/n, we’ll talk later, ‘kay?”

You nodded, and he took his leave, and your mom rushed to your side once again.

***

The day you were discharged from the hospital was bittersweet. You were leaving and going home, to sleep in your own bed. But you were leaving without your dad, and in a few days, you would be giving him a send-off for his funeral in Oklahoma.

The drive home in Mom's car was different. It didn't have that old dusty truck smell, and it didn't rumble as it drove down the dirt road. No, Mom's car was clean, quiet, and smelled like pine. You hated it.

The drive was quiet, only the sound of the radio filling the car, but that quickly got turned off, much to the displeasure of Jason, who quickly turned it back on, which upset Mom.

“Quit it.” She turned it off again.

“I want to listen to the radio,” Jason protested.

“NO, Jason, stop it!” Silent tears were running down her cheeks, but Jason just scoffed and looked out the window

When you got home, Jason went to his room and you sat on the couch and curled yourself into a ball. Your mom went straight to the kitchen and came back out with the champagne bottle that had been saved for their anniversary.

Her dark green eyes were dull and wet with her tears. She took a good look at the bottle before she took a swig and sobbed. You didn't know how else to comfort her, so you just crawled over and cuddled under her arm.

“It’s ok, Momma.” You whispered to her.

That just made her cry harder– the fact that her baby had to comfort her.

She took another drink while the two of you just sat on the couch and watched TV.

It wasn't long before she passed out. The bottle she'd been drinking fell to the ground and the rest of the contents spilled out, the sound of the bottle hitting the ground woke you up. You looked up at your mom and kissed her good night, before you cleaned up the mess she'd made, and went to bed.

Laying in your bed, you looked up at your fake stars. You turned over to look at a photo of you and your dad, It was taken when you were five, first learning how to use a bow.

You smiled sadly and went to sleep.

***

It was just like that for years. You would wake up, go and eat whatever Jason made, and find your momma on the couch, passed out with a bottle of some kind in her hand or on the floor. And as always, you would clean it up before you went to school.

Sometimes she would wake up and tell you to have a good day. You always said you would but you never did.

When you went to school, some would be nicer. You didn't know whether it was because they felt bad or because they'd been told to. It didn't matter ‘cause the alienation continued and you were still by yourself. The boys still asked mean questions, but now they were about your dad, questions like “Did you see his mangled corpses in the road?” Others would reply with “Yes.” or “It was disgusting.”

Some of the nastier ones started to say that you should’ve died. One group even cut a chunk of your hair off. It was a choppy pixie cut. Your poor teacher tried her best to make it look nice.

But it didn't matter, ‘cause when you got home, you would put on a smile for your mom and tell her you had an amazing day. Your hair? Well, you got gum in it, that's why it was short.

Your momma cried a bit when she saw your hair. It was exactly like your Dad's, long and beautiful, but now it was cropped short. Just one more thing she had loved and lost.

***

You supposed your Momma must have been feeling lonely. Instead of drinking on the couch, she started to go out to drink, sometimes with her coworkers or sometimes just alone.

And when she was out late at night it was Jason who had to take care of you. He would make you dinner, and make sure you did your homework. He wasn't nice about it but he did it. He also started to take you hunting, and in Jason's fashion, he was harsh and rude with his remarks unlike your Dad had been.

“Y/n, shoot the squirrel over there, you see it?” You roughly pointed in the direction.

You nodded and aimed your arrow at it. You released it, but you missed and it scurried away.

“DAMNIT!” He shot up to his full, towering height. “Can't ya do anything! Jeez, a rock has better aim than ya!” He went to retrieve the arrow. You followed him to find more quarry.

“Ya know, what if som’ happens and we got to provide for mom, huh? What if I can't hunt and you have to hunt fer us, and ya can't hunt shit and we die?” He liked to be overly dramatic with his lectures.

But his “lecture” did nothing but stab your already bruised ego, but to prove him wrong you had to get better.

When you saw a rabbit, you both got down low on the ground. You drew back your arrow and aimed, making sure it was perfect before shooting. The arrow flew past different branches before it finally sunk into the rabbit's abdomen. The rabbit kicked, using up whatever strength it had left before it finally died.

You ran towards the rabbit and picked it up to show Jason. “Look I got it, it's big too!” You showed him proudly.

He caught up to you and scoffed. “Jus’ a rabbit, nothing to get worked up over,” he said, giving you an unimpressed look. “Itz big though,” he admitted under his breath as he walked away. It was a small comment, but it brought a smile to your face.

He looked down at the ground, looking for any tracks that could lead to bigger animals. You took the arrow out and put the rabbit in your animal satchel, and followed him.

It was the same cycle that lasted for three years, but then your momma did what you thought she never could. Something that rocked your world, and made you look at her a bit differently.

Remarry.

~~~ 2008 ~~~

It was late, really late at night, maybe three in the morning. You and Jason were up watching movies and eating what was left in the kitchen. Your mom had the car most of the time so Jason couldn't go out and buy more food.

You were currently watching an old zombie movie called Dawn of the Dead, one that your dad and Jason both seemed to like. The only thing they could agree on was movies.

It was almost over when you heard a rapid knock on the front door. The suddenness surprised you, making you jump a bit, spilling the remaining popcorn.

“BABIES! OPEN THE DOOR, PLEASE!” Some smaller knocks could be heard. “PLEASE, I FORGOT MY KEYS! AND WE’RE COLD!”

You and Jason looked at each other before he got up to open the door for your Momma. Her hair was messy, along with her makeup. And behind her was a man with blonde shaggy hair and a beard. He wore a blue button-up and was shivering.

Your Momma walked past your brother and so did the man. You and Jason gave him a strange look, almost like he had a second head.

Your Momma seemed to notice the looks and stopped to introduce him on her way to the kitchen.

“Oh um, guys this is my fiance, Steven.” She looked at him with puppy eyes.

“Ah, Steven these are my kids, Jason and Y/n, but we call her Bear.” She had a goofy grin on her face as if she didn’t realize she'd dropped a bombshell on you and your brother.

Your brother just huffed and went to his room to sleep.

“I wonder what that was about” your Momma uttered his breath “Hi baby! What were you two just doing?” she rushed to your side and sat on the floor with you.

You looked up at her “Just watching a movie with Jason” you glazed at the awkward and clearly drunk Steven before watching the movie again.

“Ooo looks scary, think im gonna make me and Steven some drinks” She kissed your cheek and got up “ooo Stevie why don't you sit and talk with Bear Bear?”

His head shot up in confusion “Wha-what oh um yea of course baby” he walked to the couch and sat down nervously. He looked around the room and then landed on some old photos of you and your dad hunting.

“So, you uh hunt?” you turned your head towards the man you may call ‘dad’, his eyes dart to yours than back to the TV.

“Uhh, yea, my Dad taught me, but haven't caught anything ‘sides som’ rodents” You glanced at him and he just looked somewhere else, he looked so out of place in your small home.

You decided to try and “bond” with him “What about you? You hunt?” His head shot towards you in surprise.

“Ah no, no I don’t hunt. I find it uh too much, to be honest” he laughed awkwardly, you looked away and at your mom who walked back into the living room

“Hey guys! Whatcha talking about!” she said in her drunk cherry, In one hand, she had some snacks and some beers “Sorry we don’t get much, we don't have a lot in the house” She laughed.

You shifted awkwardly, cause she was the reason for no food “Maybe we could go shopping tomorrow Mom?” she stood there thinking,

“yea-yeah sure, me and you. Ya know just a girl's day!” You smiled and got to kiss your mom's cheek and went to bed Hopefull she’ll get better with this new guy around and fulfill a promise to you.

~~~ 2010 ~~~

You woke up rather late one morning. You walked out of your room to see the TV was on and some trash around the living room, you went to clean it up but your eyes grew when your mom past out on the couch with Steven, in a rather awkward position. You turned around to go to your room when Jason came out too. He seemed to notice the mess to and went to clean it up

“You don't wanna be in the livin' room” You stopped him, and he gave you a weird look.

“The hell do you mean?” you cleaned your throat.

“Umm, ste-steven and momma were gettin’ comfortable if ya know what I mean” he just shook his head and went to the kitchen.

“Whatever, im going to get food, you coming?” He grabbed the keys and walked to the garage doors.

You nodded your head and went to get dressed and were quickly out the door to the car. The sun was up, it was a warm day in August, a week before school started. You looked out the window while the radio played, some news guy was mouthing off about some world problem, it was enough for your brother to turn the radio to something else.

When Jason pulled into the parking lot you could see it was packed but was dead silent. You got out of the car when another car whizzed by almost hitting you.

You and Jason walked into the store questioning what happened when you noticed the store was dead quiet. You could see carts abandoned some of them being tipped over with groceries all over the floor.

“What tha” Jason looked at the scene in front of you. Jason looked at his watch and half decided to leave but you needed food he just pushed it to the back of his mind.

You grabbed the basket and walked to the food aisle grabbing milk, bread, eggs, and other stuff you needed. But your brother stopped you, grabbing your shoulder roughly

“Wait” you turned to him.

“What? What's wrong?” he pointed down the clothing aisle, it was destroyed and the clothes were everywhere. “Th-the hell happened there? And why hasn't anyone fixed it yet” You started to walk over to investigate but Jason grabbed your arm to stop you

“Don't, I don't like this” he pushed you forward to the front of the store. Jason grabbed your arms as he speed walked passed the alise of food thrown around the floor. But one alise made you stop in your tracks, making you drop the basket to cover your mouth.

There in the middle of the floor was a dead body, what was worse was that it looked like it was gored on. Her face was eaten, her abdomen was torn open and her intestines and blood were all over the floor.

You could see blood tracks near the body, leading away to the next aisle. Your brother pushed you down to the ground, telling you to keep quiet. He looked over to the next aisle and went back quickly.

He dropped down to the floor as well, he gestured you over to him while putting a finger up to his lips. You rushed to him.

“What's going on?” you asked panicked.

“I don’t know, but there's someone over in the next aisle with blood ‘n shit all over 'em” You looked at him with scared eyes.

“Wha-what do we do Jason” you looked to your brother for protection.

“We're gonna slowly and quietly leave the store, don't want to attract the cra-” He shot up, pushing you out of the way and kicking the woman's head out of the way. She flew back giving you and your brother time to run as fast as you could out of the store. While you were running you saw more and more blood and gore, you just didn't seem to notice.

You got to the car and speed home. The radio was still on, with it blasting the current news:

“IT APPEARS THAT A VIRUS IS SPREADING THROUGHOUT THE WORLD, KILLING THE INFECTED, AND BRING THEM BACK TO LIFE AND ATTACKING OTHERS!

THESE INDIVIDUALS ARE AGGRESSIVE AND IF YOU COME ACROSS THEM EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY AND CALL LOCAL OFFICERS!”

“What- what does this mean” Your eyes started to water “What are we gonna do Jaso-” you were cut off-

“JUST BE QUITE and let me think” his grip on the steering wheel was turning his knuckles white as he stopped the car to think,

“Here's what we're gonna do, we're gonna go home, then pack our shit and leave! Head into the woods and wait this shit out” You nodded and jumped when a hand slammed on the window on your side, you shrieked causing Jason to jump when he saw the thing he floored the car.

Not once did he stop the car, not even when other cars were around. When you turned into the driveway of your home you hopped out and ran in to see your mom and Steven watching the TV. She leaped off the couch and hugged you tight.

“Oh baby, baby are you okay where were you guys!” she was crying, her already smudged makeup rubbing off.

“We were at-at the sto-store and w-we saw this woman all-all over the palace” you cried in her arms and hugged her arms

Jason busted in the door “Ma pack yer shit we’re leavin’ NOW! Y/n get our bow stuff, I'll get the campin’ stuff, Steven gets as much food as you can, Ma get essentials and anythin’ else we need”.

You ran to your room, grabbing your bear bow, quiver, and arrows. Doing the same and grabbing Jason's hunting bow and equipment. You grabbed your school bag and some clothes.

You were about done when you thought of something. You rushed to your mom's room and grabbed your dad's coat, you loved your dad's coat. It was a bit big but it'd be good in the winter or as a blanket.

By the time you were done, everybody was running out the door. Jason and Mom were packing the food and camping gear in the trunk of the car. Steven was “the lookout”, he was holding your dad's old shotgun when he saw a figure walking down the driveway,

“H-hey there’s someone comin'” Jason turned his head to see someone limping down the drive way. The man had half his arm ripped off.

“Shit, shoot it” Steven looked at Jason like he was crazy.

“Th-the hell you mean to shoot it? THATS A DAMN PERSON!” Jason slammed the trunk closed, and stormed over to Steven, and snatched the gun from him.

“Those things aren't people! They won't hesitate to eat ya!” he turned to you and your mom “Get in the car and start it, we’ll leave soon”

Your mom ushered you to the back seat furthest away from the thing as your brother called them. Your mom got in next and started the car. She looked panicked, gripping the stirring wheel out of nerves.

You heard the crack of a gunshot not that far away

“SHIT!” Jason yelled.You turned to look at the commotion, to see the figure with a giant hole in his chest, but he was still walking as if nothing happened.

“Sh-shoot it in the he-head Ja-Jason” Steven could barely talk but he tried to help the best he could. Jason re-aimed the gun and shot the head, well the best he could.

The thing finally went down and Steven and Jason hopped in the car, Jason in the front and Steven in the back. Your mom started the car and drove into the city, taking the path to the local campgrounds.

It seems that while your family was getting ready to leave, things got crazier. There were crashes everywhere, fire, smoke, and screams could be heard, and these, groans or moans could be heard if the things were close to the car.

When you got to the campsite it was quiet. Nothing could really be heard, not even the birds in the trees. Silent, just like the store.

***

“THE CDC HAS ISSUED A NATIONWIDE QUARANTINE ALL CIVILIANS ARE ORDERED TO STAY INSIDE OR GO TO THE ATLANTA REFUGE CAMP IF YOU OR A LOVED ONE ARE IN THE STATE OF GEORGIA

FOOD, MEDICAL SUPPLY, SHELTER, AND MILITARY PROTECTION WILL BE SUPPLIED”

The radio chatter went on and on, spouting the same things. It's been a week since the “outbreak”, as they’re calling it, happened. And in that small little window, your family and Steven have had to move twice, going deeper and deeper into the woods.

“D-do you think we should go to Atlanta? It's not that far from here” Your mom had been suggesting it, but your brother always dismissed it.

“Naw, too risky” he poked the fire “Eaters be everywhere and we’d be sitin’ ducks” You were torn on where to go, staying here you'd be by yourselves but at the same time you didn't have to worry if your neighbor was crazy enough to kill you for bread. But if you went to Atlanta you wouldn't have to worry about eaters –the new name for them– attacking you.

“We’re low on food, Y/n grab yer bow, were goin’ hunting” You nodded and hopped off the opened trunk. Running to your tent and grabbed your bow and quiver and hurried to your brother who was already leaving.

When you went hunting Jason made a rule that you couldn't make too much noise, not since he spotted an eater while he was hunting. You kept your eyes down on the forest floor to keep an eye on any tracks, while Jason kept an eye out for eaters and any animals.

When you found some faint deer tracks you tugged on his shirt and pointed to them. He kneeled down to inspect them and shook his head “Too old, probably dead by now” nodding your head you continued, but stopped in your tracks when you saw a doe looking at you.

She was beautiful, her eyes hadn't noticed you yet, but you had. Jason got up behind you “Guess ya were right, why don't ya bag it” he nudged you forward and you drew the bow back. The bow itself was new, you bought it yourself after cleaning your neighbor's yard for her, she was old frail, and couldn't do it herself.

You released the bow and it landed in her abdomen. She ran off deeper into the woods with whatever strength she had left. You and Jason chased after her, her blood leading her to you.

She was stronger than she looked because it took about twenty minutes before you caught up with her. Jason loaded his bow and shot it and hit her just below her shoulder blade killing her.

“Common, let's go get her and bring her back” You shouldered your bow and walked up to her with Jason. Since he was bigger he took up the grunt work and shouldered her while you carried his bow.

“Now, ya need to find our tracks” he huffed while trying to position her right “Should be easy enough since we were running” You nodded and glued your eyes down looking up when ever you heard something in the distance.

It took about an hour before you got back to your camp. You ran to your mom and hugged her “We bagged a doe, Jason gonna clean ‘er up the we’ll eat it” Jason dropped her by Steven “ya know how to clean a Doe Steven?” Steven looked from Jason to the Doe, back to Jason.

He swallowed deeply before answering “I-uhh I've never done it no” Joson rolled his eyes then sat down next to him and started to show him how.

It was one of the little things your dad never taught you. You've seen him do it, but he never shown you how. Jason had to teach you, and he did that in your kitchen, if your mom was there and sober she would've freaked out.

You sat next to your mom who was still paying attention to the radio. All it did was worry her as she bit her nails with her legs pulled into her chest.

“You okay momma?” you put a hand on her shoulder, she jumped a bit but eased up a bit when she saw you.

“O-oh ye-yea baby, im good” she smiled “How’d your hunt go with Jason?” you pulled your knees up to your chest

“it went fine, I found really old tracks and Jason brushed them off and when we looked up BAMB there she was!” you told the story of how you found the Doe.

Your mom softly clapped for you “Wow, you're a real Orion aren't you bear?” you smiled, your Momma loved Greek Mythology, and she always said if she could be a professor, teaching students about the great tales of the Greek gods and heroes.

“Ya know where your nickname comes from?” you shook your head, but you knew why, this was the closest you got to your old momma from before the accident, plus you loveed the story.

“Artimiss was the goddess of the hunt, and she swore off marriage—one of three goddesses to be exact– she would hunt on the earthly grounds with other women and nymphs. One of these women was a woman named Callisto, she was a hunter who was sadly assaulted and fell pregnant at the hands of Zues.”

you had a sad expression as if this was the first time you heard this “and Hera and Artemis found them. Artemis cast Callisto out and Hera turned her into a bear.” you gasped playfully, and she smirked.

“well she gave birth and Artemis guided the baby to civilization, and he grew to be a mighty hunter. And he came across his bear Momma and went to kill her, but Zeus saw this and before he could kill her, he put Callisto and her sun the stars” You rested your head on her shoulder and she hugged you. You sat there for a while as you looked at the stars.

“Well it looks like you brother is about done with the deer, shall we go sit by the fire?” you nodded and grabbed your bag which had your remaining books and sat by the fire

Jason started to put some meat on the fire. The blaze reflected in his dark green eyes, he looked like he was thinking about something. He checked his watch and figured it was time to take the venison off the grill. He gave it to you.

“She found it, she gets to eat it first” was his reasoning when Steven asked why you got it. Steven was very whiney, you suspect he’d be dead if he was alone.

***

It was deep into the night, and you just finished your comic book. Your Momma was looking for batteries for the radio, it had died about an hour ago and your Momma had been going crazy looking for them. When she finally found them she cheered with triumph and put the new ones in the radio. The radio roared to life with the same news as before.

Jason was poking the fire a bit while Steven was getting something from his tent. You got up and went sit by Jason. He gave you an odd look which you ignored and picked up your bow and began fiddling with it

“What are ya doin’ Y/n” he stopped what he was doing and looked at you.

“Jus’ sittin’ is all” you fiddle some more “and wondering” he went back to the fire

“about what?” you looked around your makeshift camp.

“if all of this will be over soon, and when we can go back” you looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

Jason stayed quiet, he didn't know. But if he was honest, he didn't mind it all that much–could go without the living dead though– it was like an extended camping trip.

SNAP

Your blood ran cold when you heard the groans and snarls coming closer. You shot up when you saw them closing in on the car. Your mom was running towards you as you held your stuff.

She grabbed your arm and ran to the woods as Jason and Steven stayed behind to fight them off. Your Momma dragged you into the woods further and further. You kept looking back to see other eaters staggering toward you

“Mo-momma, they’re behind us!” your mom just ran faster “I-I know baby but we just need ru-” Out of nowhere an eater came and attacked her.

She let go of your hand when another one latched its dirty maw on her shoulder. Her screams were horrid, you imagine it was the same scream she let out when the love of her life and baby were in the hospital. Just filled with horror and dread.

“Y/n, Y/n YOU NEED TO RUN!” you shook your head with tears in your eyes “NO LISTEN AND RUN NOW!” hearing the groans of another eater behind you made you run off into the woods. Crying as you heard the cries of your momma.

~~~ 2010, A few weeks later~~~

You had been on your own for a few weeks since your camp had been overrun. You thought about going back to it, to see if Jason or Steven got out okay. Well if Jason got out, you were sure Steven did. And you knew if he got out safe then Steven was safe–probably.

But you were on your own, so you had rules now: Always move, Stay in the trees at night, And NEVER stay if it's too quiet.

That's how you made it all these weeks alone. You rationed the food you managed to hunt on your own. It was small, with rabbits, birds, and a raccoon once. It was odd but it kept you fed.

At night you'd find a tree with a sturdy branch, climb it, ruffle in your bag for something to tie around you and the branch, and sleep. And repeat the cycle again the next morning.

You were currently in a tree, just waking up from sleep. The denim jeans you used to keep you tied to the tree were a little loose. You gathered your things, putting your bow around your torso, same with your bag.

You nimbly climbed down the tree and leaped out on the last branch and landed on the forest floor, you fumbled a bit but were fine nonetheless.

You made a small fire and cooked the last of the rabbit meat you had. After that, you put the fire out and continued on your way to nowhere.

You suppose you were in a good part of the woods, cause you could hear the birds singing some little tune they came up with. You humed along to it while walking on a fallen tree, balancing on it like a tightrope walker.

You stopped walking when you noticed deer tracks and debated on following them or not, but decided to just do it anyway, no set direction and all.

You followed them to a clearing, there wasn't anything there though so you just sat on a log. You figured it was safe enough to relax a bit. With an arrow, you start drawing random things in the dirt. You liked drawing, it was a pastime you did before.

You started drawing hearts, butterflies, and flowers, pretty things really. Then you drew your Momma, she was beautiful in your eyes, with long hair that reached her midback, and her beautiful green eyes.

You stopped what you were doing when you heard something in the distance, it sounded like something talking. You quickly loaded your bow and stood up aiming your bow at the noise.

There you saw two men. One was old, with short-cropped grey hair. He was bigger than the other one. The other guy was younger and more scrawny, he had squirrels tied around a rope, he had a crossbow, also aimed at you, and the old guy had a hunting rifle

“Well well well, what do we have here baby brother,” Old Guy said with the meanest grin on his face.

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

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#fanfic #twd #daryl dixon #x reader fanfiction #this took my fucking months and the fact i have to proof read like two-three other chapters #i also start my new job on sunday so thats fun #teen reader #platonic reader

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