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pawsitivelymiraculous · 3 years

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Le parfum de l'amour

This is the @maribat-secret-santa-2020 piece for @saltandfluff I am so sorry for being late!

Anyway, I will be using the quantic kids, but you don't necessary have to know them to understand this fic.

The only have to know that "Melodie" is Allegra's nickname.

Ao3

It was always a bad idea to try to mess with fate. Everyone knew this. Allegra knew this, but she didn't care. Not when it was taking a toll on her sanity.

There were only so many times a person could see two literal soulmates walk past each other before they decided to take matters into their own hands.

So that's what she did.

Or well, was going to do once she could convince her friends to help her out.

"I don't know, Mel." Allan rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "These things take time you know? You cannot rush it." He glanced at the corkboard that was behind Allegra and winced, it was going to be impossible to talk her out of the crazy plan.

On the corkboard, there were two pictures. One was a selfie of Marinette Dupain-cheng. A twenty-year-old who was a regular at the café where Allegra and Claude worked at. After chatting with her in the mornings, Allegra decided to adopt the girl, and she introduced her to the rest of the group. She quickly became friends with Allan and surprisingly enough, with Felix as well.

The second picture was a rather blurry photo that was clearly taken from afar. You could sort of make out the image of Timothy Drake. The sleep-deprived twenty-one-year-old who had started going to the café for about a month. All the employees loved him because he never failed to amuse everyone with his half-asleep antics.

The one thing that both pictures had in common was a coffee cup.

On Marinette's collarbone, there was a small tattoo-like mark that looked like a coffee cup. The same one that was on Tim's wrist. Soul marks . Granted, they looked a bit plain compared to most people's soul marks, but in Allegra's eyes, they were the excuse she needed to get them together.

Allegra had shipped her two favorite customers long before she noticed their soul marks. But now that she knew they were soulmates . Well, she was not going to rest until they finally met.

"I'm not trying to rush things!" Allegra insisted. "I just want to push them in the right direction."

Allan looked at her, doubtful. "That's basically the same thing. Plus do actually think that," he squinted to read the list of plans that was tacked on the corkboard. "'Locking them inside a room with no escape' is merely pushing them in the right direction? 'Cause I think that sounds more like a hostage situation."

Allegra glared at him. "You know what? I don't need your help. Claude will help me. Right, Claude?"

Claude looked at her with wide eyes. "Oh no no no. Sorry Melodie but I can't."

"Uh, I'm sorry what?" Allegra blinked. It was very out of character for Claude to turn down the opportunity to help her with one of her elaborate plans. Not to mention that in this case, they were doing it to help Marinette.

"Allegra," he said solemnly, "this is a destiny thing. We just can't interfere."

Allegra facepalmed. "You can't be serious."

Claude looked at her dead in the eye. "If we interfere we might end up," he leaned towards her and whispered " cursed"

"Oh give me a break." Allegra pushed Claude away. "Are you guys kidding me? This is Marinette we're talking about. You all can't possibly think that Marinette wouldn't want to meet her soulmate, and as her friends, we have to help her."

"I agree with Allegra."

Everyone spun around in surprise.

Felix rolled his eyes at his friends' incredulous expressions. "What? Marinette is my friend as well. Is it really that shocking that I want to see her happy?" The three of them nodded. He ignored them. "Besides, I've heard Marinette ramble about soulmates nonstop, so it's clear that meeting hers is what she would want."

Allegra was the first to react "See guys? Even Felix agrees with me!"

Felix huffed. "Yes, but I also think that your plans are ridiculous and ineffective."

"Ouch"

"I think the best thing we can do to help is to get them to interact and we-"

"That's literally what my plans are for!" Allegra interrupted.

Claude crossed his arms. "And what do you mean by 'we'? I haven't agreed to do anything."

Shooting both of them a glare, Felix continued. "- can do that without needing to kidnap them. We simply have to make it so that they have no other choice but to sit at the same table at the café. You all know how friendly Marinette is, it will only be a matter of time before they start talking."

There was a beat of silence.

"That… that might actually work," Allan admitted. "Soulmates are naturally drawn to each other so once they actually have a conversation we won't have to do anything else. They can figure out that they're soulmates by themselves." He paused and then chuckled. "We'll just have to push them in the right direction."

"But how are we going to get them in the café at the same time?" Allegra asked. "Tim always comes in right after Mari has left."

"Pft that's easy!" Claude exclaimed. "Just tell her that you need help with something and that you'll need for her to stay a while longer at the café. Since Mari doesn't have early classes on Wednesday she'll agree and- oh!" Claude suddenly slapped his hand over his mouth as his eyes widened with horror. "This does not mean that I'm helping." He mumbled from underneath his hand.

Allan laughed. "I think you just did."

"Looks like someone's going to end up cursed." Allegra singed songed. "Not even ladybug is going to be able to help you with that bad luck that's to come." She teased.

Claude pouted. "Haha, laugh all you want." He then looked up at the corkboard and grimaced. "But you're right, there's no turning back now. What do you need me to do?"

Allegra clapped her hands in glee.

"Okay so here's the plan."

~♡~♡~♡~

Just like Claude had predicted, it was incredibly easy to convince Marinette to stay at the café. All that was left to do was orchestrate everything just so that the two soulmates had to sit at the same table.

It was easier said than done but after enlisting more people to help out, they were able to make sure that the café was full for that morning.

Everything was going according to plan…

Until…

"WHERE. IS. TIM?"

Claude looked around. "He hasn't arrived yet?"

"No!" Allegra cried. She glanced down at her watch and winced. They were running out of time.

Claude frowned. "And you know, it would have been nice if Marinette hadn't chosen today to wear a turtleneck."

Allegra couldn't help but agree. Sure, Marinette looked amazing with the turtleneck and skirt outfit but did she really have to wear it today? When they needed for her to show off her soul mark?

It was like the universe was against them.

But finally, Allegra heard a tinkling sound at the door. She spun around praying that it was Tim.

And it was!

He looked more tired than usual as he stumbled around trying to find a seat.

Allegra watched as Tim danced around the tables that were being occupied just as he was about to take a seat.

One after the other until finally, a good push later, he ended up at Marinette's table.

~♡~♡~♡~

Tim was too tired to deal with this.

All he wanted was to sit down, have a couple of cups of coffee at his favorite coffee shop and finally be awake enough to continue investigating the moth guy.

But apparently, that was too much to ask because almost all the tables were full.

"Sorry man," Claude whispered as he guided a couple and motioned them to sit at the table that Tim had beelined for.

"Oh, actually I'm waiting for Adam." Felix had said when Tim asked if he could sit with him. Which was strange since Adam had said that he was waiting for Felix when he asked him.

But he could barely comprehend what they were saying, so he was not conscious enough to complain.

Tim continued on his journey when he felt someone push him from behind. In his half-asleep haze, Tim lunged at the chair that was in front of him hoping that it would break his fall.

It took him a few seconds to recover. He wanted nothing more than to pass out right then and there, splayed out on a coffee shop chair as everyone stared at him wondering if he was drunk.

He too wondered if he was drunk, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so if he was drunk, he was not going to figure it out on his own.

When he finally looked up, his eyes met with a pair of beautiful bluebell eyes.

~♡~♡~♡~

Marinette watched as a guy stumbled around the café until finally flopping onto the other chair at her table.

It was clear that he was sleep-deprived. She had seen enough videos that her evil friends had taken when she was in a similar state to know the poor guy probably hadn't slept at all for the last week or so.

Marinette wanted nothing more than to drag the guy to the nearest bed or couch and wrap him up in a bunch of blankets. Just because she didn't comprehend the term "self-care" for herself didn't make Marinette any less of a "mom friend"

But she had to remind herself that she didn't know the guy, so it might be considered kidnapping to drag someone somewhere against their will.

Too bad.

The best she could do was offer him her own coffee.

"Hey, I think you need this more than I do at the moment." She said, pushing the drink his way as he stood up.

He mumbled something that could be interpreted as a "thank you" and eagerly took the drink. His eyes lit up when the heavenly liquid touched his tongue.

It was almost miraculous how quickly the caffeine took effect.

Actually, it was Marinette may or may not have mixed a little concoction she made with Tikki that helped her when she stayed up late with her regular coffee.

The guy blinked. "This. Is. Incredible."

Marinette laughed "Yeah, it's what I always get. Though you still look like you need to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah whatever." He waved her off. "But seriously, what is this called? I need a gallon of this."

"Sorry," Marinette said sheepishly "but I'm afraid that's a secret, you know, I'm kind of everyone's favorite, so I get the miracle coffee." Okay so that was a lie but what else could she say?

The guy pouted. Marinette had to admit that he looked adorable.

"Well, then I'm sure you can get me some then... um"

"Marinette."

"Ah, nice to meet you, coffee goddess, I'm Tim."

Marinette's cheeks heated up. "Uh, coffee goddess? Shouldn't they be the coffee gods and goddesses?" She pointed at Allegra, Claude, and the others.

"Nah, you have blessed me with this amazing coffee. Claude didn't even help me in my time of need."

"You know Claude?" Marinette asked, surprised.

"Yep, I've been coming here since I arrived in Paris, so I've gotten to know Allegra and Claude a bit."

"That's funny, I've never seen you. And I come here every day." Marinette said.

"Huh, that's weird. I've never seen you either. "

And from there they kept talking. Like they were old friends and not just acquaintances. Marinette found out that Tim had come from Gotham city. That he was in Paris because of business. Meanwhile, Tim learned that Marinette was an aspiring fashion designer and a college student who was close friends with almost everyone from the café.

Hours passed and the two were still deep in conversation completely oblivious to the crowd that had gathered behind the cafe's counter to watch the soulmates.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about this before." Adrien, who had arrived after Tim, whispered to his cousin.

"I was under the impression that your father needed your assistance for the upcoming fashion show. I was not about to ask my dear uncle Gabe if I could steal you so that we could set up our friend and his future competitor, Marinette Dupain-cheng, with her soulmate."

Adrien hated to admit that he had a point. "Fine, but can you at least catch me up to date? Who is he?"

"He's a rich guy from Gotham city. He's pretty cool though he's basically Marinette when it comes to coffee which is honestly kinda scary now that I'm seeing them interact." Allegra whispered.

Adrien looked down to look at her. "Alright, I guess I'm going to have to do my own research since you guys are useless. What's his job? Why is he rich? If his from Gotham then who knows, maybe this guy is actually dangerous and wants to take Marinette as ransom for-"

"Oh please Adrien, stop with your theatrics. Do you honestly think that I would allow this if he was dangerous?" Felix interrupted.

"I mean-"

Felix glared at him.

"No?"

Felix sighed. "Timothy Drake is Marinette's soulmate, and I can assure you that he's clean. So don't worry about Marinette."

Allegra shushed the cousins. "Guys, I'm trying to listen here you know?"

"Um, you could probably hear better from up here" Felix nodded in agreement.

"Thanks, Adrien, but I don't want to risk Marinette seeing me and then remembering about time and stuff."

"Ah"

"Speaking of time, it's been years since I last ate, I'm hungry." Claude cut in.

"Claude! You're supposed to be with the customers!" Allegra whisper-shouted.

"Whoops."

~♡~♡~♡~

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. Marinette eventually remembered the reason she had stayed in the cafe. Not only that but when she looked at her watch she realized that she was running late for class.

After Marinette's rushed exit, Tim went back to investigating Hawkmoth. But while they were trying to concentrate on their own thing. Marinette with her class and Tim with his research they found themselves zoning out and thinking about each other.

It was strange, they had quite literally just met.

Why had they made such an impact on each other?

~♡~♡~♡~

It wasn't until Marinette was getting ready to go to bed that she found the answer.

"Tikki is… is that what I think it is." Marinette's voice trembled as she stared at her reflection on the mirror.

Tikki gasped. "Oh Marinette, I think it is!"

Staring back at her was her soul mark, which no longer was a regular coffee cup but rather a gorgeous cup with beautiful red flowers that surrounded a somewhat familiar symbol.

"But, how? I mean they're not supposed to change… right? And why?" Marinette's eyes widened. "Does this mean that I met my soulmate? Who is it?"

Tikki giggled, "You seriously don't know?"

"Umm no? Should I?" Tikki continued to giggle as her holder looked at her confused. "Who is it Tikki?"

"Oh Marinette, how many new people did you meet today?"

"Uh, I don't know? I mean surely I must've passed by lots of strangers in the street." Marinette panicked. "Oh no Tikki! What if one of them is my soulmate? I'll never find out who they are!"

"So you don't remember meeting anyone else?"

"I don't think so, well other than ohhh- "

"Exactly"

~♡~♡~♡~

Tim could not believe what he was seeing. Gone was the plain coffee cup he was used to seeing, the daily reminder of the fact that he was still painfully single, it now had an intricate flower pattern that surrounded a symbol.

He recognized that symbol.

After weeks of researching and tailing the red Parisian heroine, he knew that it was the Ladybug symbol.

But why was it on his soul mark?

Unless…

No, the heroine couldn't be his soulmate, Tim hasn't even officially met her. Nor had he even seen her today.

The only blue-eyed girl he had met was Marinette.

Marinette

No, it was impossible. Except it wasn't. Tim had only known the girl for a couple of hours, but he knew that Marinette would make a great heroine or vigilante.

But, he… he was probably hallucinating, right? Tim hadn't slept for weeks, so surely he was just seeing things and his soul mark was still a plain coffee cup and the Marinette conclusion was just wishful thinking.

Right?

Because otherwise, his first meeting with his soulmate was him acting like a sleep-deprived zombie and Tim could not allow that.

Well, one thing was for sure, he really needed to get some sleep.

~♡~♡~♡~

Three days.

It took three days for Marinette to find Tim.

She looked everywhere. The coffee shop, Le Grand Paris Hotel, the tourist areas, and when she was ladybug she looked down from all the rooftops trying to find him.

But he had vanished, leaving Marinette worried sick that he had either A. Gone back to Gotham B. Died or C. Been so horrified that she was his soulmate that he decided to move to a remote island and changed his name in hopes of never seeing her again.

Gosh, she was starting to sound like her fourteen-year-old self.

But finally, she saw him, sitting on a bench, not far from her own home, looking down at his wrist.

He looked at his wrist like it was some puzzle he needed to solve. Marinette also noticed that he looked a lot more refreshed, so he must've finally gotten some sleep.

Marinette cleared her throat. "Well, you've been a very hard person to find Mr. Drake."

Tim looked up. "Ma- Marinette!"

"We need to talk."

Tim nodded his mouth hanging wide open as he stared at her soul mark.

"How do you feel about coffee? There's a coffee shop that's not very far from here, I hear their coffee is divine.

~♡~♡~♡~

Bonus:

(this was going to be a scene on the fic but I didn't know how to add it but it has important info sooo)

*They are at the coffee shop*

Marinette: So you're red robin.

Tim: And you're Ladybug

Marinette: Should I be worried? Like doesn't this compromise our secret identities?

*Claude and Allegra appear with some pastries*

Claude: Yooo Marinette! So you found your soulmate! Crazy right? We totally didn't have anything to do with it!

*Allegra elbows him*

Claude: So uh, congratulations! I um feel happy for you.

*looks nervously at Allegra who is glaring at him*

Claude: Bummer about the soul mark though…

*Allegra keeps glaring*

~♡~♡~♡~ Permanent tag list ~♡~♡~♡~

Claude: What? It's just a plain white cup!

Bonus bonus:

(here's a bad doodle and my crappy handwriting)

(If you want to be added or removed please let me know!)

@charme-de-malchan, @theatreandcomicfreak, @m3owww, @elliebelliegirl, @genevieve-the-demonologist, @vixen-uchiha, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @waffleyunsure, @technicallyburninggarden, @azuremayscarlet, @vroomtaka, @emimar7, @ichigorose, @maskedpainter, @art-is-hard-to-do-sorry

#maribat #timari #tim x marinette #maribat secret santa #ml x dc #mlb x dc #quantic kids #My writing #my trash writing #my art #my trash art

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annamaximoff24 · 3 years

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Bruises

Wanda x Reader: Mentions of smut

WC: 1k

Description: After a few racy nights alone with your girlfriend, Nat questions the “bruises” left on Wanda.

“Come in,” you said upon hearing a knock at the door, not looking up from your phone as you scrolled through instagram. You were laying in your bed at the Avengers compound. The whole team, except you and Wanda, your girlfriend, had been called away on a special mission for a few days. Needless to say you and Wanda took full advantage of having an entire building to yourselves. It was almost noon on the third day, so it made sense that the others would be back by now.

“Hey Y/N,” Natasha opened the door and looked at you, still sprawled out across your sheets.

“Hey,” you put your phone aside. “How did the mission go?”

“There were a few...mishaps but everything turned out alright,” She said.

“Let me guess: Tony and Steve got into a disagreement about the plan and things went awry?” You raised an eyebrow at her.

She nodded, laughing to herself. “Someone really needs to stop putting those two together on missions, it never ends well. For anyone.” You felt the mattress sink as she sat down next to you.

“I can’t argue with that,” you said, smiling.

“So, how were things here?” Nat asked. She knew how excited you were to spend some time alone with Wanda.

“All quiet on this front,” you said, withholding satisfaction.

“Oh Y/N, I’m sure if we had next door neighbors they would be adamant in saying that’s not true,” she teased.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” You feigned innocence.

“I think you forget that I sleep down the hall from you. I don’t know how many times I’ve been woken up by Wanda screaming your name.” You had to keep your jaw from dropping as you were overcome by embarrassment. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about it for a while,” she added.

“I-” you stuttered.

“C’mon, I want details. But you can skip the part in the kitchen.”

“How do you know about that?” Okay, yeah, you and Wanda had spent each night on a different floor of the compound, taking full advantage of every fuckable surface, but as far as you knew, there wasn’t any evidence left behind.

“I found Wanda’s bra and underwear on the countertop.” Dammit. You immediately felt your face redden. The one place you forgot to clean up last night.

“Fuck, really?” You said.

“Hey, you’re lucky I’m the one who found it. I don’t think Steve would be able to eat for a week after thinking about what you two did there. Don’t worry, I won’t tell any of the guys.”

“I really appreciate it.” You could barely keep back the sarcasm that dripped from your voice.

“Where is Wanda anyway? She’s not still sleeping is she?” Nat asked.

“No, She’s taking a shower.” You tilted your head towards the bathroom door where the sound of running water could be heard.

“Okay, cool. Now spill.” Natasha patted the bed in excitement, eager to hear about your relationship.

“There’s really not that much to say. But, uhhh, maybe wipe down the mats in the gym before you work out. And the glass table in Tony’s lab.” You struggled to remember every place. “Oh, and if you see any restraints on Wanda’s bedposts, no you didn’t.”

Natasha gave you an impressed look. “A glass table? Really Y/N?” You smiled meekly at her.

“What, we just wanted to try it.” You heard the water shut off in the next room.

“And?”

Before you could respond the bathroom door opened. “Hey babe,” Wanda walked out. “Sorry, I left my towel out here.” You looked up, and to your horror you saw Wanda walk naked across the room. She didn’t seem to notice Nat sitting on the bed next to you. “Do you know where my underwear is? I couldn’t find--” She let out a terrified yelp as she turned and found Natasha in the room with you.

Wanda crumpled to the floor, grabbing a blanket off of your bed and wrapping it around herself. “Hi Wands,” Nat chuckled.

“Hi Natasha. I didn’t realize you guys would be back already.” She said sheepishly.

“Yeah, I’m sorry honey. I should have warned you.” You looked at her apologetically.

“Hey Wanda,” Nat spoke up. “What are those?” She gestured to Wanda’s neck and chest. You both blushed severely. Wanda was covered in hickeys, most from last night. They trailed down the front and sides of her throat and there was a particularly large one over her right breast. You might have gotten a little carried away.

“Oh, we were just going through some training and…” Wanda tried to come up with an excuse.

“Don’t bother baby, she already knows.”

“And she’s very impressed, but the guys might kill both of you if they find out what you did and where you did it, so Wanda, you might want to put some clothes on and cover that up with some concealer or something.” Wanda nodded silently, looking like a child who had just been caught stealing candy. God she looked adorable.

Wanda moved to grab some clothes from your dresser. “Your underwear was in the kitchen by the way. I put it on your bed.” Nat told her.

“Y/N! I thought we cleaned everything up last night.” Wanda scolded you.

“Evidently, we forgot one little thing.” You sighed at her, refusing to look at Natasha, who was loving every second of this.

“I should make myself scarce. I have some unpacking to do.” Nat got up and walked out of the room. Before she left she turned back to you. “Are those bite marks on her shoulder?” She whispered.

“Go!” You grabbed a pillow and threw it at her, narrowly missing your girlfriend.

“Next time maybe you hide these,” Wanda pointed at her neck once Nat was gone, “a little better. I don’t enjoy wearing turtlenecks in May.”

You got up, looking into her green eyes. “I didn’t hear you complaining when I was giving them.” You smirked at her, giving her a quick kiss. “Get dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs for lunch.”

“Looks like our little vacation is over,” Wanda sighed.

“It was fun while it lasted.”

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #scarletwitch #mcu #marvel #marvelwomen

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kimnjss · 4 years

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get even | ksj

⤑ series: sugar free

⤑ genre: angst, rich!jin x artist!reader, college au.

⤑ rating: explicit

⤑ word count: 4.4K

⤑ warnings: humilation (it’s not a kink here tho), suggestive topics, nudity... (this lowkey pretty tame, ngl).

⤑ A/N: a little late, but i literally just finished this and did like a half ass job editing it, buuut i really wanted to get this out bc OHMYGOD (you’ll see) - don’t forget to let me know what you think, your feedback is my favorite! x

A bet. The second the words left Yuna's lips you felt your blood begin to boil. Was that what all of this was? Why Jin had been so persistent to be around you, to get you to like him... so he could win a measly 100 bucks from his friends. That was it?

You felt sick to the stomach, on the verge of screaming at the top of your lung. How could you allow yourself to be so stupid? To not be able to see past the cheap facade, protect yourself like you had done countless times before. To think you were slowly starting to melt, starting to see yourself becoming comfortable around him. Smiling a bit too wide when texting him into the late hours of the night, moving a little too fast when his name was lighting up your screen.

He had been playing you for a fool this entire time and the only thing you could think of was how could you get even. At this point, he had no idea that you were on to him. Still thought that everything was going according to his plan, boy was he wrong. You were going to get him back, flip the tables so he was the one left licking his wounds. Who the hell did he think he was?

The idea came to you a few hours after hanging up with Yuna. The anger that had blinded you earlier finally subsiding enough for you to properly check the messages that had been flooding your inbox in the time since. Most of which were from the group chat of your best friends. Making a mental note to tell Yoongi about his role in this bet as well, you immediately clicked on the latest message from Jin.

[15:59] seokjin: did you pick a movie for tonight, yet?? i saw something you might like.

Instantly you're scoffing at the reminder that you were supposed to be out with this man in a little over an hour. You had actually been looking forward to this date, a more relaxed setting where you two could truly be yourselves around each other. The hell with that now.

Quickly, you were typing back your response. Ignoring the fact that it was coming in three hours too late. He could wait. If he felt like he could use you as a ploy in this stupid game with his friends. Then he could wait a few hours for your reply.

[18:12] to seokjin: oooh, surprise me then! im getting ready right now, see you in a bit?

Rolling your eyes at your overly enthusiastic you're standing from your position on your bed, moving to your dresser to pick something to wear tonight.

When you were in your early teens and just getting to know Namjoon and his friends, not a day would go by without an argument between you and Jungkook to take place. He always felt the need to try and one-up you, always had an opinion on what you were saying, and never believed you were as smart as him.

The fact you got into your shared middle school solely on recommendation had nothing to do with his thought conclusion. Anyway, something that young Jungkook found extremely amusing was pranking. Loved the thought of tricking someone to the point of them getting upset only for him to shout: 'Relax, it's just a prank.' It was his favorite pass time, especially when you were involved.

Quickly, you were picking up on his tactics and soon enough you were able to counter all of his 'well thought out' deceptions in a way he was the one with the egg on his face in the end. Fast forward years later, you and Jungkook hardly argued as much and he found more interested in girls than pranks... but that didn't mean you forgot how to play along.

The forced learned deception would be applied tonight. How dare that boy think he could pull a fast one on you and get off scratch free? Yeah, right. There was going to be hell to pay. And you were going to make sure of it.

Despite the fact, this was only a movie date and you could pretty much dress down when sitting in a dark room for hours, what you wore held a big part of your plan for tonight. Of course, you didn't want to make it obvious that your goal was to turn heads. Something subtle but undeniably sexy that his jaw was dropping at the first sight of you.

It had been a while since you wore your bright red mini skirt and it fit tighter than you remembered. Deciding the tightness fit the theme of tonight, you're tucking your long sleeve black turtleneck into the skirt; admiring the way the form-fitting material highlights the natural curves of your body.

A large heart belt to give your waist that extra snatch and short black boots to tie it all together. Yeah, this guy is not going to know what hit him once he caught sight of you – you were sure of that much.

Makeup had never really been something that you cared a whole lot for. Loved the way a bare face felt as opposed to being caked up for hours. Tonight was an exception though, you had to play the part, right?

One short, way too detailed YouTube tutorial later, and you're being interrupted by the knock on your front door. With a final swipe of lip gloss onto your softened lips, you're moving from the mirror to answer the door.

“Oh! Are you early or am I running late?” Jin stands on the other door, a large hoodie covering his slender figure and black jeans clinging to his legs. He eyes you shamelessly, seeming to have missed the words that had just left your lips. Bingo! “Here come in, I'm almost done,” You're turning, leading him into your house acting as if you hadn't noticed the way his eyes dropped when he thought your back was too him.

Too freaking easy. Guys were too easy, it was sad.

Just for good measure, you lead him to your couch; delicate fingers wrapped around his wrist. You're gesturing him to sit with a gentle tug of his wrist and his body moves accordingly, eyes never once lifting from you.

“I'll just be another minute,” You promise, watching as he pushes a smile on his face before nodding. You make your way down the corridor and into your bedroom, honestly finished with getting ready but not against making the boy sweat for a little bit.

Ten full minutes pass by of you just sat on your bed, scrolling through your phone before you're deciding that it was time to go. Jin stands as soon as you're exiting the room, composure back in check – that familiar smug look settled on his features once again. He spares you only a single glance as if he hadn't been full-on drooling when you first had opened the door.

“You ready?” His voice sounds deeper than you remember and you can't help but wonder if he was forcing it in hopes to impress you. Not caring much to mull over the question, you're nodding your head. The heels of your boots clack against the hardwood floor as you move to meet his side.

Jin thoughtlessly slides his arm around your waist, a simple gesture that pulls an annoying reaction from you. He leads you out of the front door, waiting patiently on the steps as you lock up.

“No, Minho?” You're asking, noticing the absence of the shiny SUV parked on the curb. Jin is shaking his head, digging into his front pockets for something you can only assume is a key due to the metallic jingle filling your ears. “Gave him the night off... it's just me and you,” He grins and you smile back, of course, your master plan in mind and in no way a natural reaction to the sight of his contagious smile.

He's pulling a silver key from his pocket, clicking the remote and you nearly jump at the sound of the beep. Bright lights illuminating the headlights of the sport's car parked just a few feet from your building. “Is that your car!?” Wondering out loud and neglecting to check the excitement in your tone.

Jin watches with a knowing grin as you make your way over to the vehicle, cautious palms sliding over the fresh paint. You couldn't believe what you were staring at. A 2019 Alfa Romeo Giulia in the shade midnight black; an all-red leather interior... were you going to be sitting in that? This was what he was going to be taking you to the movies in?

“It's nice, right? Got it for my birthday last year... a little bored of it now, though.” You hear the cocky tone of his voice, the 'I'm-so-much-richer-than-you' twang that has your blood boiling. With a roll of your eyes, hands now stiff and dropping to your side you step back.

“It's alright,” You say with a shrug, pulling the passenger's side door open and sliding in before he even has the chance to reach for it. No point in keeping up with his fake gentlemen facade, you could very well open your own doors.

Despite your slight shift in mood, Jin is still smiling. Not thinking twice about you not letting him open up the door you and sliding in on his side. Instantly, he's pulling his seat belt on; twisting the key in the ignition and you melt at the hum of the engine coming to life.

“What's the movie you picked?” You're asking as a few moments of silence passed, the only sound that had filled the car in the past eight minutes was the radio that he liked to keep on low for some reason.

His gaze is shooting in your direction, eyes wide as if he hadn't expected to hear your voice just then. You offer up a gentle smile, blinking your eyes cutely up at him as you wait for his response. Jin's adam's apple bobs as he turns his attention back onto the road.

“It. Have you already gone? It came out a few weeks ago,”

You're shaking your head, ignoring the fact that if you had been the one to choose the movie for tonight – that would have been your choice. Even if you had already seen it, horror films were at the top of your list of faves... which was weird, because you had it on pretty good standing that Jin wasn't into scary movies.

Either way, it wasn't like you planned on having him pay all that much attention to the movie in the first place.

As expected, Jin paid for both your ticket and his. He purchased a large bucket of popcorn for the two of you to share and a couple of drinks to counter to salty effects of the treat. What a shame he was actually a douche bag, otherwise you would've swooned at his catering.

Seats smartly chosen in the back row, where you could see the entire movie screen clearly but avoid being spotted by the other moviegoers. With the risk of being obvious, you lifted the armrest that divided your two seats long before the movie had started. Forty minutes in and several popcorn jerking jumps after, you were taking advantage of your early decision.

“It's a bit cold in here, don't you think?” You spoke with a pout, eyes lifting to grasp his attention. He was staring at you, head shaking in a nod and you could tell he was searching his mind for ways to make you more comfortable. How sweet. “Should we sit a bit closer?” Voice laced with velvet, you're already scooting over the gap before he can disagree.

Not like he planned to, the moment Jin's realizing what's going on; he's moving to close any left space between you two. His arm lifting to wrap around your shoulders as he tucks your body into his side. The movement so fluid and natural that you can't help but wonder how many times he's pulled the same move – no prompting needed.

A few moments passed with your body cradled in his arms, his warmth surrounding you, and the strong scent of his cologne intoxicating you. You had noticed this the first time the two of you went out, Jin was well put together in his clothes and he always smelt so good. Not sure what it was, but the way that he smelt never failed to make your stomach flip.

But it wasn't the time for that. Right now, it was time to put your perfect revenge plan into action. Delicately, the tips of his fingers ran over the swell of his chest, admiring the way the muscle felt underneath your digits. Dropping your hand lower, you spread your palm against his abs.

He had been so invested in the movie during your initial contact, that he hadn't noticed the feeling of your fingers on his chest... or chose not to acknowledge it. Now that you were tracing the ridges of his abs, his eyes were on you, slightly wide as he tried to figure exactly what you were playing at.

You shot him an innocent smile, the tip of your index finger running over the curve of his bellybutton. Flinching at the contact, he blinked hard; breath caught in his throat as he waited. “I never knew you were so... strong,” Voice coming out in a purr, the tip of your finger trailing up the middle of his stomach.

Jin visibly gulped, confusion dancing over his brow as he shifted beside you. Not sure how to react to your sudden shift in behavior. You didn't care to slow down, to explain it to him – this was what he wanted, right?

“I'm finding it so hard to pay attention to the movie,” Scooting closer to him, your hand drops down onto his thigh. Giving the muscle a light squeeze as you lean your body up, lips inches from his pink ears. “Do you want to know why?” You whispered, lips gently brushing over his lobe.

“W-why?” He cleared his throat, fidgeting in his seat; trying to avoid looking in your direction. If he was to turn his head, your lips would be mere inches apart. Just a simple twitch forward and you'd be kissing. No way he'd be able to keep his cool if that were to happen, so he kept his gaze forward. Not risking it.

Fine with you, you weren't done playing. Thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of his pants, mouth closing around his earlobe. You felt him shudder, making a smirk rise on your lips. “I can't stop thinking about you... all the things we could be doing instead of being cooped up in here...”

Jin was no fool, not the one to waste any time. If you were acting like this, saying that you were down there was no way he was going to pass up an opportunity like this. He'd just catch the movie when it came out on Netflix. “Should we go then?” He's mustering up all the courage he can manage to turn his head, dark eyes finding yours in the dim-lit room.

A bit surprised with his quick agreement, you're not letting it show on your face. You're grinning at his words, standing from your seat, and taking hold of his hand. Jin allows you to pull him up from his seated position, his hand landing on your hip. “Wait, slow down.” He's whispering, being considerate to the people scattered you.

“You sure?” Head nodding before you had a chance to mull over his thought process in checking up at you. Reaching for his free hand, you're wiggling out of his grasp and tugging him behind you out of the theater.

Both of you moving so fast, laughter slipping past his lips at your haste and you can't help but join in. You can feel the gaze of the people around you, but you don't care. Don't even bother to present an apology too wrapped up in enjoying yourself and trying to push away the warmth rising in your chest. Now wasn't the time for that.

Jin's stopping you the second the cool night air is hitting your exposed skin. His hand twisting in your grasp until he's able to take hold of your hand. Easily, he's pulling your body into his and flashing you that heart-stopping smile of his. Chests pressed together, breaths mixing and you hadn't realized you had been breathing so heavily before.

Your heart hammers against your chest as you stare up at him, his eyes searching yours. He's slow with the way he closes the negative space between the two of you, his hands lifting to cup your cheeks. And he's leaning in, lips finding yours... the smile breaking onto your lips before you have the chance to fight it.

He's kissing you so slowly and delicately as if you were made of glass. Hands cool against your heated cheeks and you can feel his smile over your mouth. It was all becoming too much, your heart getting too involved over a stupid kiss... this was not part of the plan!

You're pulling away at the feeling of his thumbs brushing against your cheeks, looking up at him with your lip caught between your teeth; trying to look as sexy as possible in this situation. “Come on, we'll have much more fun once we're alone...” Discreet in the way you gesture to the family of five that were making their way into the theater.

Jin's following you without a word, the grin never falling from his plump lips. He's leading you this time, quick steps are taken to his car where he opens your door for you. You get comfortable against the seats, watching as he jogs around to the other side to slide in beside you.

All giddy and smiley, excited that he was about to get some. That he was about to win this stupid bet he and his friends thought would be a good idea... boy, he had no idea what was coming.

Thick laughter leaves your lips as you stumble into your bedroom with tangled feet. Jin's lips haven't left your skin since you were pushing your front door shut, fingers gripping at your hips, eagerly drumming at the exposed skin. He's turning your body to gently push you back against the door, lips dropping to capture yours.

“Don't think... I'll... get tired, of kissing you,” He breaths out deeply, sentence carelessly strewn together his sole focus was the way he was moving his tongue in your mouth. And a skillful tongue it was, too bad this couldn't go all that far – you'd love to know how that tongue in other places...

You're kissing him back with just as much fervor, hands sliding down the front of his shirt until you can grip the hem of the shirt. Slowly you drag it up, inch by inch revealing his well worked on torso to ghosts of your bedroom. He's pulling back then, hands reaching for yours to assist you in his disrobing.

A moment is spared to admire just what he had been hiding underneath all that fabric. Oh, what a shame... Leaning on your toes, you're taking his lips in another lingering kiss careful not to push too far. Plan would go to shit if you were allowing yourself to get lost in his soft kisses.

Easily, you move from your position against the door. Jin watches you the entire short walk to your bed, body turning so he can get a better look at you. You make a show of the way you climb toward your headboard, bare legs crossed as you look up at him. Beckoning him over with your finger, Jin is quick to spring to action, all but running over to the edge of your bed.

He's waiting, noticing how you stopped him just before he was about to climb into bed right on top of you. If only. What a shame. Jin's eyes drop to your thighs, catching the way you rub them together as your teeth nibble at your lower lip. “Take your pants off,” The command coming out whiner than you had hoped but Jin's hands are quick. His eyes on you the whole time he's unfastening his belt and dropping his pants to his ankles.

You're careful not to let your eyes bulge at the sight of the size of his erection, straining against his boxers and just begging for some attention. A rub. A suck. Something. If circumstances were different, you would've been on your knees by now. Begging for a taste. What a shame.

“These too,” The finger you had began to nibble at falls from your mouth, arm extending until you're able to reach him. You trace the tip of your finger over his covered shaft because, fuck... you can't help yourself.

Jin shudders, mouth dropping and you can swear you see his dick twitch underneath the fabric. “You're fucking perfect.” He groans, quick to pull his bottoms down his legs, not even reacting to the way his cock bobs free, slapping against his hipbone. Fuck, he was huge, unbelievably thick, and beautifully veiny. Whoever said God was fair...

Swinging your legs toward the edge of the bed, you're reaching for his hip; pulling his body toward you gently. Forcing your eyes from his pretty cock up to his face. Ignoring the urge to wrap your lips around the tip, just a taste. That couldn't hurt, right? “You think I'm perfect?” There's sincerity in your voice, still not over the initial shock felt when the compliment was falling from his lips.

You couldn't lose your head now, though. Not when you were already so close to your goal. Jin is nodding his head without a second thought and you're grinning, leaning back just a bit so you can get a better look at his face.

“Worth a hundred bucks?”

His eyes turn to moons the moment your words are registering. “W-what? How do you... how do you know about that?” He's stepping back just as you're shooting up from your bed.

“What do you mean how do I know!? How could you try to humiliate me like that!?” You had spent so much time planning and re-planning your revenge that you hadn't put any time into thinking of what you were going to say once the jig was up. Mostly because you were so hurt by what he had done and you couldn't think of a way to express that without punching him a good one.

“I mean-,” You're moving around the room, collecting the clothes that he had carelessly thrown down in the mindset he was going to become a richer man tonight. “Who even does something like that!? Is making a quick buck really that important to you?” You felt yourself holding back, wanted to ask how dare he make you like him just to turn out to be like any other guy.

No way were you going to let him know that his stupid prank was working in any way, though. Keeping the little fact that you were falling for it to yourself was best. “It wasn't like that, Yn! Really.” He's half trying to explain himself to you and half focused on just what the hell you're doing with his clothes. Large hand covering his junk, no longer feeling confident in his nudity.

“Then what was it like, Jin?” You're turning, quick, not realizing that he had been standing right behind you. “Because from what I understand is that you and your friends thought it would be fun to put a price tag on my sex life and who knows how many other girls you're fucking with,” That, had been something that you forced yourself not to consider... but not the words were falling from your lips and realization was hitting.

“It's just you! I mean... please, just hear me out. There aren't any other girls, and-,” You're cutting him off with a lift of his hand. Not really in the mood to be lied to. So ready to get him out of your face so you could be alone with all that you were feeling. “I don't want to hear it. I really don't. You're disgusting, Seokjin.” Your last words are delivered slowly and with your eyes staring into his.

“Yn-” He starts, but stops when he notices your backward steps toward your bedroom window. You push it open without any strain, lifting his clothes. “W-wait, what are you doing!?” He looks panicked as you toss his clothes out of the window, slamming it shut after you see them hit the ground.

“Why would you go and do something like that!?” He's pissed, you can tell... but you don't care. You're done with him. Gave him the thirty seconds of distraught that he earned and now you were over it. For the most part. You'd work it out. It hadn't been that long since the two of you started hanging out. It wouldn't be that hard to get your shit together.

“Hm, I wonder.” You mock with a roll of your eyes, you're passing him crossing your bedroom to reach your bathroom. “You can let yourself out,” There finality in your tone and you mean it, not bothered if you never saw him again after this.

“You're not even going to let me explain?” He sure is talkative for a dude clutching his junk while his designer garments soaked in mud. “There's nothing to explain. Get out.” There's a droop in his shoulders following the sternness of your words. He's making his way toward your door with slow steps and you feel your heart crunch.

Hated that it had to be like that, that he had to be like the rest of them. That you even bothered to give him a chance in the first place. It was so clear to you in the beginning, but you thought to give him the benefit of doubt, wanted him to be different... everyone was the same.

“To think I was starting to change my opinion about you,” The words slip without your full intention. He's turning to look at you, but you're quick with the way you pull the bathroom door shut. Not having it in you to actually watch him walk out.

– rich, spoiled and a bit of a womanizer. but underneath all of that, there’s a heart of gold. and no matter how determined she is to reject him, he won’t stop trying until she sees he’s kinda sweet.

↲ masterlist ↳

taglist: @randomkoalablog @smoljams @dee-ehn @jaiuneamesolitaiire @lilacdreams-00 @sw33tnight @bangtansonyeondayyyum @okblve @jinhitwhore @tae165 @hellotherehoneybee @bangtansbun @betysotelo18 @cherriigguk @koostime @kooinluv @butterflylion @kookiesjoonies @uxwi @honeyoongles @imajiningseokjin @amoreguk @beeeb05 @tommasauras @bluefaeriefury @butterflylion @withlovestudyblr @samros95 @korkanswers @houseofarmanto @soulstaes @thesunisup-theskyisblue @jinsearth @aizuwusho @moonb0yy @tan-dulset @8sjaf @mini-coop25 @marifujioka @sunskook @elliemeetsevil @ratking101 @leovaldezisfire

A/N: timestamps are important throughout the fic!! if you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask! also if you asked to be on the taglist and aren’t on there, it’s because tumblr sometimes doesn’t let me tag ppl for some reason.

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lunewell · 3 years

Text

The Lunewell Saga - Natura: Chapter 2

Can also be read on ao3 by clicking here

First part is here (:

Third part is here

Book Sumary:

Zarifa Birch, an antique shop worker with an unusual past, has made a home for herself in the sleepy town of Lunewell. Though the shop she works at is not exactly ordinary, with cryptid items and odd occurrences, she has managed to carve the normal life she always desperately wished for out of it.

However, all that comes crumbling down, as a woman from Zarifa’s past throws everything into chaos. Faced with unimaginable horrors, seemingly unsolvable mysteries, and returning repressed feelings and memories, Zarifa along with her coworkers, must find a way to return the balance- and escape the cruel hands of death in this eldritch horror mystery

Chapter 2:

At 03:45 in the morning, under a night sky covered in a thick blanket of storm clouds, Zarifa was woken, not by any natural phenomena, or by her antique alarm clock, but by the sound of her phone screeching out what was effectively deafening trumpets. Though this had never happened before, Zarifa knew instantly what it was, and threw off her warm, cotton duvet immediately.

Grant, who frankly was the only one who had anything even close to technology related competence, had wired up an alarm system in the shop not too long ago, and connected it to Zarifa’s phone. He had also, of course, been the one to design the hideous sound. As she gripped her phone with a speed that almost made it go smashing to the ground, she turned it on to see that the alarm of Thorn’s Antiques had, in fact, just gone off.

She rubbed her temples, shivering slightly. Neither the room nor the outside world were particularly warm, with a chilly wind seeping on through the wall and around the room. Her bed was a haven of heat, and a place that could soothe the ever-growing, tired ache in her bones, and her entire body protested when she turned on her heels and began walking towards the closet, shuddering.

Zarifa threw on clothes at an impressive haste; a warm turtleneck and a pair of jeans that were just the slightest bit too small, then snatched her phone and purse, and put on her necklace, before rushing out the door.

She wasn’t all that worried about the robbery, not really. While they were an antique shop, they didn’t have anything really valuable, at least not that she was aware of.

Besides, if anything of value truly had been stolen, there was pretty much only one culprit, and lucky for them, Zarifa knew exactly where to go should that be the case.

No, her haste came not from a place of fear of the robber, or worry over the supply, but from Valour’s reaction. Valour, though usually apathetic, had an overprotectiveness of the shop, and any damage to it, might lead to the new rising of a mass murderer. The butterfly over her turtleneck saw one last glimpse of the light, before it was covered in a thick, black coat, and slipped outside into the shadowy night.

The breeze was particularly strong, fiery trees not so much swaying in the wind as almost being knocked down by it. Zarifa pulled her coat tighter, shivering as a cracking whip of gust slammed her face. The stars above, usually visible in the dimly lit dirt paths, were shielded behind towering, puffed-up storm clouds, almost menacing in their own way.

She walked onto the pavement, passing her small and worn car parked outside the small cottage. She debated on taking it, before deciding it really wasn’t worth it. Lunewell was so small anyway, and the shop hidden in the far corner was but a ten-minute walk. Though driving should technically have been faster, navigating her way around the roads and towards Lune Lake, where the shop lay, would take just as long as walking there. Even after living there for five years, Zarifa still found the roads and paths an absolute maze, like the village was purposefully trying to trap its inhabitants.

As she rounded a corner, and headed towards what had become a very small street of other local shops and one bar, a wave of newly baked pastries broke through the ozone-scented air, sending yet another hard hit of a gust that pushed her back ever so slightly. She didn’t mind the wind though, as her tight expression morphed into a delighted smile and her body became infinitely more aware of how long it has been since she’d eaten.

Zarifa relished in the smell for just a little longer, though she kept her pace up, before she froze in place at the edge of a lamppost light. Mr. and Mrs. Carr, both bundled up in striped, hand-knit scarves, were walking towards the bakery hand in hand, clearly preparing to open for the day. Zarifa stood almost inhumanly still in place, as though the Carrs were hunting predators and she was their prey, her breathing having grown shallower and tighter.

Taking a step back further into the shadows, she hoped the light was poor enough and their eyes old enough that she would slip under their senses. Or, at least, that was the plan, until her feet knocked against an empty can on the ground, sending a rattling sound that resonated through the street.

Their heads snapped up, landing first on the can that had rolled into the light, and then on Zarifa herself, who was still holding her breath, even her heartbeat muted. Mrs. Carr, who had never particularly liked Zarifa for whatever reason, gave a wave and a slightly tight smile as her greyed hair blew haphazardly around her head.

Her husband turned to see what she was looking at, lighting up when he saw Zarifa, who had edged herself into the event horizon of visibility. “Zarifa!” he greeted enthusiastically, but quietly, “Hello dear. What are you doing out here at this hour?”

Zarifa rubbed the back of her neck, shuffling further forward. “Good morning Mrs. Carr, Mr. Carr-”

“As I’ve said before, just Harold’s fine love.”

“Apologies,” Zarifa said, hands moving from her neck to the gold that hung around it. “I’m not in the best mindset right now,” Mr. Carr sounded an ‘Oh?’, as Mrs. Carr headed inside slightly huffy, “you see, the alarm for Thorn’s Antiques just went off.”

Mr. Carr’s eyebrows shot up in concern, wrinkles bunched on his ever-balding forehead. “That’s dreadful,” he exclaimed, “not the kind of thing you’d expect to happen ‘round here. You better be off, Lilly and I’ll drop by with some of the baked goods later in the day.”

“Oh, that’s very generous but you don’t have to,” Zarifa reassured in a slight panicky tone, “no point in dragging you two into this mess.”

“Nonsense,” he said, “everyone needs some baked goods in situations like this. Besides, I’m sure that young lad of yours with the glasses - Graham? Brant? - would be very appreciative.”

“If you’re positively sure it isn’t an inconvenience, that would be lovely,” Zarifa said, finishing it off with a warm if anxious smile. Any lingering silence was broken by the sound of Mrs. Carr calling for her husband and co-worker in a way fit for a dictator. Mr. Carr turned towards the door

“Yes, I’m coming, I’m coming!” he shouted, back, a stark contrast to the gentle lull of his tone before. “I believe my wife needs me. We’ll stop by later. Good luck!”

Zarifa took off like a jetfighter, sprinting away with a wave and footsteps that bounced into the streets. At her speed, it wasn’t long before she was no longer landing on cobbled streets but on overgrown dirt paths covered in damp leaves. The shop, a small stoney thing with dirty windows that practically looked abandoned, came into view, and her eyes moved to the door, which was in fact left just the slightest bit open.

Sliding inside, she closed the door behind her, though the shop remained equally cold. It looked almost eerie at this time, the furniture remnant of old times, empty and abandoned, a few vases smashed on the floor from where someone had been in a rush, and a stillness so quiet that it was deafening to her ears.

Picking up a blue floral patterned shard, she continued onwards, keeping her footsteps as light as a ghost. Well, as light as a ghost that could not sneak past a deaf person, but she digressed. Pushing open the door to the back, wincing as the door hinges made a shrieking creek, reminiscent of a whining child, she made her way in.

The employees’ lounge looked, as she had expected, fine. Everything was exactly as they had left it, slightly disjointed, except for Bruin’s desk that had been organised meticulously. She began heading for the downstairs, to see if any of the inventory had been stolen, when she heard a muffled thud from upstairs, releasing the pressured silence in her ear and exchanging it with dread.

Thud, thud, thud , multiple slamming sounds, equally light, equally muffled, radiated from upstairs. She could track the being’s every movement from the sound alone, see the continuous patterns of thuds make their way through the upstairs rooms. Her eyes trailed them vigorously, pupils jumpy, as she tightened the grip on the shard. The fact that it dug into her hand, almost piercing through her thin bicoloured skin, didn’t register.

The shop yet again went quiet, though any illusion of silence was broken by Zarifa’s hammering heart. She glanced around the room, gaze going to the cellar where she could take her hiding, to the second exit, and back up to Valour’s personal floor. She looked up, waiting for any more signs of life, before snailing sneakily up the stairs with the shard held out in front of her.

The steps, normal stairs instead of the never ending spiral leading to the basement, stayed as silent as herself throughout the ascent, as though they themselves were afraid of the intruder above. Zarifa tipped-toed up them, the yellow stained walls that the stairs were encased in almost suffocatingly tight, and ever closing in.

At the top of the carpeted steps sat a black door crested in a slightly lighter shade, with a pair of Bobby pins stuck in the lock. It was the only entrance Zarifa had never taken in the shop, looming above her and guarding a floor that even so much as seeing would lead to great punishment.

It was too dark to peek into the room, and there was no sound but her own swallowing and the wind that had picked up outside. She took another step up, and reached for the handle as though it was shatterable glass. With a prayer directed more towards the cosmic force of luck rather than anything specific, she gave one push of the door.

Luck, it seemed, was on her side, as the hinges opened without the slightest squeak. She took the final stairs up, giving one last glance to where she came from, and stepped inside what was effectively Valour’s house.

Even through the fog of darkness, she could see the layer of dust, and the sheer amount of things thrown astray on the floor. Outlines of books with unreadable titles spilling over the carpet, sheets of aged papers crumbled into what she assumed had once been a paper bin, and antique knick-knacks placed in tall piles, disfigured by the low lighting.

At first glance, it seemed disorganised, but as her eyes adjusted more to the lightless room, it became clear that similar items were bundled together, and that there was some kind of system. She just hadn’t quite figured out what that system was.

Looking away from the silhouettes of mess that seemed ever-shifting, she turned her eyes downward, looking at where a path had been cleared. Whether it had always been there, or whether the dear intruder had made it, she was unsure about. She walked across it like a minefield, eyes trained on the ground and not looking at the piles which were getting higher as she went along and spilling further towards her.

She stopped at a hallway, leading in two different directions, which was deserted compared to the room she had just arrived in, only containing a painting, a few near empty shelves, and a drawer. Though equally riddled with swirling, sand-like dust, it felt cleaner, and had a little bit of light poking through a curtained roof window. It shone on the portrait hanging large and proud above the wooden desk, enough so that she could see the illuminated face of a younger Valour with colour still in her hair and a rather androgynous person she couldn’t quite recognise. They invoked the same familiar feeling she had felt yesterday, albei more distant.

She took a step closer, staring intently. The person, a sickly pale figure with light brown hair and odd, pink, heart shaped sunglasses, was almost entrancing, to the point she had barely realised just how close her hand was to the canvas.

The trance was broken not by the touch of the oil canvas, but by a sound that Zarifa, when asked at a later point, could only have described as bounding . It was the sound of a constrictor wrapping around its prey, of tight ropes encircling a wrist, of becoming trapped and helpless.

A flash of light blue light, ever so faint and ever so quick that one couldn’t be scolded for mistaking it with a hallucination, appeared in the corner of her eye. Her head snapped towards one of the doors, hair on her arms rising, as she made her ways towards the source.

From the outside door, she could hear whatever was making that sound wrap further, deeper, and for a second, her mind cleared. She considered walking out; walking safely home, telling Valour that she couldn’t find anything stolen, and not getting involved. Letting this, whatever this was, live its life or death peacefully.

After all, was that not why she had come to find herself here in the shop in the first place? Was that not why Grant, Bruin, or even to an extent Valour herself had found themselves in this antique shop? To escape a past of unexplainable events, whilst simultaneously saving others from having the same brush with the eldritch, the unexplainable? To, for even just a split second, live in the illusion of normalcy, the lie that nothing had ever been wrong?

Zarifa turned on her heels, sneaking past the portrait of Valour and Heart-Glasses, which almost seemed to be judging her choice. Valour wouldn’t have turned away, which perhaps explained the scars and bruises. She couldn’t, however, bring herself to care, as her ever growing frantic footsteps made their way down the hall.

Now, what must be understood for the following sequence of events to make sense, is that Zarifa, deep down, was one thing; caring. She sees her fellow employees as great friends, always up to help or let them take breaks, she handles her books with delicate strokes and gloves hands, and she is always up to help.

Whether Zarifa’s caring nature always outshined her cowardice and self preservation is debatable, and a subject she preferred not to dwell on. However, in the word always , lies a hidden, implied one; sometimes.

Like when Zarifa, halfway down the hallway, heard a cry and groan of pain that was so distinctly Lottie , that she would have recognised it even if her ears got chopped off. As though someone had a pressed a button, she turned right back around, sprinted with loud thuds, and pushed the door with a speed that almost broke a whole in the wall. She stood panting in the doorway, all fear evaporated into a feeling that was not quite protectiveness, not quite caring, not quite pity, and not quite anger, before the muddled emotion transformed back into fear as her eyes landed on the strawberry blonde.

Lottie sat on the floor, legs dug into by long vines dressed in a barrier of thorns, arms tightly pressed against her body in a twisted bend that no human should have been able to achieve, and a streaming, jet black smoke arising from the leaf engraved ornate box in front of her and travelling right into her deep green eyes. Zarifa moved towards her and the box without even thinking, making her jerk, digging the thorns even deeper into her skin. “Don’t… to-touch a thing,” Lottie commanded, voice unbelievably hoarse, as though she had been shouting for hours, and Scottish accent more intense.

“I can’t sit by and watch… whatever’s happening!” Zarifa shouted frantically, panic stirring in her. She crouched down to the floor, even as Lottie made a sound of protest. “How can I stop this?”

“Y-you can get the fuck out,” Lottie managed to gasp out meeting her eyes. Her brows were stern, but her expressive emerald eyes were scrunched and her face was in a grimace that drew at Zarifa’s heart strings like a wound bow. All the while, the black smoke from the box-

The box. Of course. If she just closed it, Lottie would, theoretically, be fine. She began reaching for the moonlight-reflecting gold leaf, one of the only items visible in the otherwise almost pitch black room. She stopped as she heard her name called desperately from beside her, followed by a string of curses.

“Don’t touch it!” Lottie pleaded with a tone laced in anger, voice teetering on the edge of death, “Just get out of here, butterfly!” And oh, if her heart didn’t skip at that slip-up, “Don’t want to…” she gasped again, not quite managing to bite down another whimper, “d-drag you into this shit again.”

Zarifa looked at Lottie, her pained glare, the arms that looked like they had been put on backwards, and the pierced legs. She took a breath; “I’m sorry,” she said, and before Lottie could say so much as a word, she snapped the lid shut with a snap that hit like an atom bomb.

As soon as the bomb landed, everything went quiet. Zarifa moved quickly, as Lottie fell limp into her chest like a stuffless ragdoll, arms clicking back into the place with an audible sound, and eyes fluttering open to give one last angered, intense stare before shutting. The smoke, escaping Lottie’s eyes in a violent manner, balled itself up into the center of the room, the thorns vanishing and joining it to create a rotating, black and dark green, spiral-patterned sphere.

Keeping a close eye on the orb, she scrambled further backwards, pulling Lottie along with her. Her mind raced as she scanned the thing, trying desperately to decipher what it was, what it could possibly be. Though she wanted to leave the room, to drag Lottie and herself outside and never enter again, her eyes were entranced in the beautiful, indescribable spiral. It was, Zarifa thought grimly, a bit like the train incident all over again. Or the summer camp, for that matter, but she preferred to keep a lock on those memories.

The orb continued spiralling, room still quiet except for Zarifa’s heavy breathing, and the wind outside. It was then that she saw something in the spirals, something beyond the mist of black. She squinted, though in the light and with the colour it was hard to see much of anything except the swirling pattern. She began leaning in ever closer, though recoiled almost instantly as soon as the orb came to life.

A hand, pink and fleshy and clearly human, pushed against the pattern, stretching the orb to translucency like a tight latex glove. It pushed against the swirls, followed by another, then three hands, then 10 hands, and then an uncountable number. Everywhere you looked where skin covered fingers, all trying to break the barrier that had slowly stopped swirling.

Though they pushed and pushed, hands clawing with the ferocity of a starving lion, pounding with all the force of a hurricane, the barrier refused to move, just stretching to expose the arms further up. It had gotten to the point where Zarifa could clearly see knobbly elbows bending robotically, aimlessly through the cover. She regarded the arms from where she sat, eyes trailing their every movement, before she turned over, head still on them, and took a single, crawling movement towards the door.

All the hands stopped pushing, falling limp into the orb as though their strings had been cut. They were dragged back jerkily into the core, pulled out of sight as quickly as they had appeared. Zarifa held her breath watching the orb move towards her and out of the moonlight, the colours fading to nothing but a monochrome silhouette, and the shape morphing into something reminiscent of a bald human, albeit with arms just the slightest bit too long. She could not see its face, or any details on its body, even as it took an unsteady tumble towards her.

When Zarifa was twenty-one, and visiting Lunewell for the first time since the train incident, a seventeen year old girl, younger than herself, but already the owner of a shop, named Valour Thorn had taught her a very important lesson; When faced with the unexplainable, always close your eyes. At that time, Zarifa had yet to see what that would do. After all, simply ignoring danger when it was so close seemed like a sure fire way to get yourself killed, but a method of saviour.

Now, however, faced with an ever-approaching, vaguely human-shaped blob, staggering towards her like a drunken man with a concussion, she realised that situations like this could only have two outcomes, and closed her eyes. She kept her breath and body stiff, even if she knew she had already been spotted by the sound of bagged, wet meat slapping against the ground. The sound stopped completely mere inches in front of her, and everything went quiet, on what could very well have been the last moment of her life.

A breath, muffled as though it was coming through fabric, though no less warm and moist than what would have expected, blew against her cheek. It sounded strained, as though it’s lungs were thick as needles, but the breathing was rhythmic and distinctly alive. The breath inched closer, warming by the second as she squeezed her deep brown eyes tighter, mind caught in a loop of prayers to all the gods she could think off.

Lottie, who had previously been nestled comfortably against Zarifa’s jacket, let out a slightly pained groan. Her heart stopped, as she felt the creature's breath pan over her face, and towards where the pigtailed girl rested. In a flurry of movements that made Zarifa flinch violently against the wall, she felt the weight of Lotie lifted off her in one sharp movement. A dazed whimper once again admitted it from her, but it sounded distant compared to the one that had been right against Zarifa’s ear.

She desperately wished to open her eyes, to see what was happening, to make even a singular heroic movement to save Lottie, but she stayed in her prey position; paralysed and blind. It was a grim but realistic reminder that she had and would never be a saviour, nor a survivor, just lucky. Regardless of prior experiences, she was no more competent or threatening than a shot deer.

The squishy sound returned, just as the warmth where the creature had poised left her neck. There was a distinct dragging sound on the floor, a sharp leather and zippers scrapping on wood, as the wet splotches rounded around her. She still didn’t dare open her eyes, until the footsteps and dragging vanished.

As the house and flat quiet, her eyes opened slowly, the lids still recovering from the glued fear. She glanced down to her hands, and realised that somewhere along the way, they had reached up to grip the necklace, which she squeezed as she took a shuddering, shallow breath. She reminded herself that both she and Lottie would be okay, that they’d both been through far worse, but the comfort only resonated on a surface level.

Looking around the dark room, she noticed the outline of a light switch right by the door, which stood more ajar than she had previously thought. With a final, semi-deep breath, she flicked it on. The room burst harshly into a bright yellow lamp, her eyes burning at the harsh contrast. She blinked rapidly, trying to blink away the tears that at first came from brightness, but as her vision cleared, came from a true realisation of what had just happened.

In the light, it became clear that this tiny room was a study. There was a dust laden desk with old, leather-bound journals, a desk light with a shattered bulb, and a computer just slightly more modern than the one downstairs, a corkboard with images connected by different coloured strings that looked like a conspiracy theorist's wet dream, and lots of shelves populated with antiques and books. However, Zarifa was not so much focusing on the small glimpse into Valour’s elusive personal life, as the floor where the encounter happened.

Splattered across the planks were puddles of a black, tar-like liquid, intertwined with small specks of blood. The ornate box itself had at some point been knocked over, tilted on its side, spreading a few small, thin sheets of ancient looking paper out. Zarifa gently made her way over, stepping past the puddles with a scrunched up nose, before reaching the papers. She didn’t pick it up, nor touch it, instead tilting her head to read what the dull, brown ink said.

To whom it may concern…

In this letter lies the seal, which I fear must not be opened till The Dawn. If the time is not right, you must close this box, and ignore this. Do not read onwards, or you will bring upon yourself the cruelest of fates.

In a worst case scenario, if the seal has been unsealed before The Dawn, if doors ideally locked stand open, you must be prepared to make a key.

A key is forged by fragments of Touched sanity eating a sight of one that Sees, dipped in water oh-so divine. Once the key has begun, the fragments must sew themselves between the fabric, letting all webbed light shine on them. As they are blessed by the minute, and after the final step of-

Zarifa’s eyes widened, turning the page frantically looking for the continuation of where the text had been ripped off. She glanced around the room, looked once again inside the box, only to find it an empty chasm. With a shaky breath, she wiped away her tears, determaimly, and pulled up her phone.

Zarifa furrowed her brows as the time, reading precisely 06:00, appeared onto the screen. Had it really been two hours already? Nevertheless, she decided to ignore it for now, opening up her contacts, and quickly clicking the one person who she knew would already be up at such an early hour.

“Hey Grant? I need you and Bruin to come in as soon as possible. We have a slight… situation on our hands.”

#original writing #bookblr #book excerpt #writeblr #horror books #The Lunewell Saga - Natura

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thepetulantpen · 3 years

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Two Librarians in Armageddon

(Day 5 of @shadowgastweek! Only had time for one fic this week, but after I read this prompt my brain said Pacific Rim AU and would not leave me alone until I wrote this. It’s pretty long, so here’s the ao3 link.)

(Pacific Rim AU, featuring the wizards as scientists!)

Caleb would not say he’s fond of working with others, let alone sharing his lab.

Solitary work is more in his nature, but after years of sharing close-quarters with Veth- and after getting adjusted to Jester, in general- he’s learned to tolerate, even enjoy, having company while he’s working. His friends have more than prepared him for anyone else he’ll have to work with; they’ve ensured that he’ll be hanging onto his habits of keeping anything important secured, in the event of an unexpected explosion, and of guarding his coffee with his life, in the event of poorly-timed pranks.

He does not think his new lab partner will be bringing any unstable explosives, or sugary abominations to replace his coffee with.

From what he’s been told, the new addition to their little pre-apocalypse team is a physicist working on tech for a competing company, someone far outside Caleb’s scope. The fact that they still have competing companies of mech-developers while there are aliens bursting from the sea to eat them is a nightmare all its own, but the writhing horrors of capitalism are a beast that science, and the Kaiju guts strewn across the table before him, has proved ineffective against.

The truce between them, in the interest of allowing powerful Jaegers to work together, is an uneasy and temporary one. Caleb, personally, doesn’t think it’ll last beyond one or two failures. He just hopes they won’t fall back into the slew of sabotages that plagued them at the beginning of their downward spiral, before everyone realized the world may actually be ending.

The rather small detail of imminent Armageddon has made his preference, or lack thereof, for company inconsequential. In the long run- or short, if they don’t manage a major breakthrough soon- his opinions as an introvert are insignificant.

It’s not all bad- as an innately curious person, the opportunity to meet someone just as experienced as him in the field of Kaiju is fascinating. Particularly considering that their specialization is so different; he’s almost looking forward to the new insight. He’d even be excited if it wasn’t for the subject matter.

It can be challenging to be enthusiastic about the driving force of the apocalypse.

He digs deeper into the partially collapsed chunk of Kaiju ribcage in front of him, no longer bothered by his poor choice of distraction. It’s a misnomer to call it a ribcage, given that the Kaiju do not have bones in the classical sense, but it’s close enough in location to approximate. He’d rather have a brain to work with, though he’ll settle for what he can get. Storing Kaiju is difficult, with their accelerated rate of rot once exposed to the air- if he’s not careful, his work could be reduced to ash in an hour.

He needs to catalogue the differences between this corpse and the last, pinpointing patterns in organ placement. The work is dull, while still requiring his full concentration to avoid puncturing any of the many, many inexplicably acidic organs. If he wasn’t already good friends with the base’s medics, he would’ve been taken off this job long ago.

Once he’s elbow-deep in a Kaiju, he stops paying attention to the door. He does not notice the knocking, nor the quiet greeting, nor the faint whir of machinery as his new colleague hovers through the doorway.

“Should you be touching that? It looks toxic.”

Caleb jumps at the voice beside him and the scalpel in his hand jerks, cutting into the mystery organ he’d been considering removing. Something vaguely liquid hits his wrist above the glove and he waits two seconds to see if it’ll burn, before deciding he probably doesn’t need to run screaming to the nearest med station.

“It’s fine,” he mutters, partially in response and partially to himself. “I know what I’m doing.”

He looks down, towards his new colleague, who, at first glance, is thoroughly unimpressed at that lie.

He sits in a wheelchair- minus the wheels, as it hovers gently off the ground, coming to about the same height the wheels would give it. Clearly a new model- hovering technology aside- it’s a sleek, minimalist white, matching his equally sleek, swept back white hair. The high turtleneck and overly formal coat allow Caleb to immediately peg him as somewhat uptight. Near-apocalypse has made formality rare.

Caleb hurries to wash his hands, finding the nearby sink labelled for nasty, potentially lethal chemical disposal. “I was told you’d arrive today, but,” he glances up at the dingy lab clock, the glass cracked from Veth’s last visit, “I didn’t imagine it’d be so soon. It’s, uh, a bit of a mess.”

“I’ve seen worse,” he says, unconvincingly, and changes track, “That desk is mine, yes?”

There’s only one other desk in the room, moved there sometime yesterday after Caleb, under threat from his superiors, managed to shift away some of the boxes that line the walls. It’s only a small space, but it’s the cleanest part of the room.

The question, he reasons, is rhetorical, but Caleb nods anyway. He considers that answer enough- though the other man doesn’t move, staring at him expectantly. He’s oddly expressive, his attempts to keep a completely straight face only making any slipups, like the annoyed twitch of his eyebrow, more obvious.

It makes it easy to see the exact moment his patience runs out.

“I’m sure you were informed, but,” here, he looks to the side, dodging Caleb’s returning attention, “for the sake of introductions, I am Essek Thelyss.”

Ah, so that’s what he’d forgotten. Caleb thinks it’s unfair that he had to fail miserably at one of the last introductions he will have made before the end of the world- surely, he could’ve had just one go smoothly.

“Oh- I’m Caleb,” he reaches out a hand, meeting Essek’s already extended one for a brief shake- his hands may be clean now, but Essek doesn’t look thrilled at the prospect of touching Kaiju guts, even indirectly, “Caleb Widogast.”

Something unidentifiable passes over Essek’s expression- disappointment or judgement, perhaps, at not recognizing the name. Widogast is not printed on any books, nor is it associated with anything high-profile like Thelyss; strictly, it doesn’t exist at all.

That, or the smell of the rotting Kaiju getting to him.

As he watches Essek pause halfway across the room to clear his path, and again to widen the space around his desk, Caleb is hit with the vivid realization that this isn’t going to be an enlightening, academic experience, nor an uncomfortable few days of socialization. It’s going to be more than a bump in the alien-fueled crisis that is his current existence.

This is going to be a disaster.

…

“Widogast, do you have any idea where my notebook’s gone?”

It has only taken Caleb three days to be able to identify the various tones for annoyed in Essek’s voice. There’s this is a minor inconvenience and this is a major inconvenience and this is one of many annoying things I haven’t pointed out yet today, including, but not limited to, the ever-present stench of Kaiju flesh.

He can say, with relative confidence, that this falls into the latest category.

“Have you tried all your desk drawers?” he calls over his shoulder, knowing the question is unnecessary but stalling for time as he heaves the last of the Kaiju parts- partially burned and fragmented limbs, today- onto his work table.

Essek, unlike Caleb, is meticulously organized, never misplaces anything and files according to system that escapes Caleb, no matter how many times he tries to decode it. From Essek’s perspective, the rest of the lab is a dangerous no man’s land of abject chaos- though Caleb has never lost anything. He knows, precisely, where everything is, no piece of preserved alien fading from his memory. An organization system is pointless, when one has a photographic memory.

That is, until one has to share a lab with someone who bothers to keep track of their belongings.

He doesn’t wait for a response, already able to picture Essek behind him, sitting with his arms crossed and looking deeply disappointed by Caleb’s suggestion, which amounts to did you turn it on and off again? Leaving the still sealed Kaiju parts where they are, he turns back to his own desk.

After exonerating himself and Essek, the list of suspects for meddling with their desks is very short. The base, these days, is not the hub of activity it used to be, back when there were far more Jaeger pilots alive and far better morale. Their lab is typically empty, aside from Caleb and Essek, as few people are inclined towards the smell of dead Kaiju. Even the corporals, some of the rare higher-ups with clearance, can’t be bothered to visit more frequently than their mandatory check-ins.

He can only think of two people who clearance would not be an issue for.

“Is he handsome, Caleb?”

“I don’t think it would be professional—”

“He definitely is, Jessie.”

Before today, he’d thought that Jester and Veth hadn’t gotten around to the visit they’d been threatening; clearly, they’d taken the liberty while he wasn’t in. Veth knows better than to steal notebooks- she wouldn’t be interested in them, anyway- and Jester isn’t in the habit of taking things, only misplacing them.

Caleb hardly ever uses his own desk, preferring to leave his notebooks scattered over the lab tables, in easier reach. Only the older ones are still perched on his desk, in a precariously tall pile- but one notebook stands out from the rest, not quite as ratty and overstuffed as his own.

“Ah, here it is,” he holds it up, gesturing Essek over and trying not to look too sheepish- it is not, after all, his fault. As he hands it over, and quickly turns back to his work, he can only hope that Jester hasn’t doodled anything too embarrassing inside. “Jester must have misplaced it, while exploring the lab.”

“Jester?” Essek asks, eyebrows furrowing in something that would be irritation, if his expression wasn’t trained to be so stoic, “Is she supposed to have clearance here?”

“The medical staff have free reign, in case of incidents with hazardous material.” He glances back at Essek, who still looks confused, and remembers that not everyone is on a first-name basis with the medics. “Jester Lavorre. You might know Caduceus- that is, Mr. Clay- better. He’s the more… healing inclined, of the two.”

“Jester Lavorre,” Essek starts, slowly as he unpacks his own question, “regularly comes here to… explore? What, she just, rifles through your things?”

He is not sure how to explain the idea of Jester to someone who doesn’t know her.

Essek already looks delightfully confounded- a considerable a departure from his typical stern concentration. Caleb almost wants to thank Jester for pulling Essek away from the handheld chalkboards he spends his days bent over, lines of nearly indecipherable equations appearing and disappearing with only the smudge of chalk on Essek’s hands as evidence of their existence. Distracting Essek has proved to be a challenge- even the sounds of saws and the number of other unpleasant devices involved in Kaiju dissection don’t get Caleb so much as a glance.

He does not try to explain Jester, opting to shrug, instead. “She knows she can find me here, so she stays until I show up. Sometimes she gets bored.” It occurs to him that other people haven’t been prepped for company in the same way he has. It occurs to him that it is abnormal to brace for a scavenger hunt every time he enters the lab. “I suggest you leave your important documents in a locked drawer.”

He refrains from telling Essek that Veth can pick locks and that Jester has broken open desk drawers before (there was an incident involving a prank war, smuggling, and increasingly desperate hiding places). None of it seems particularly reassuring.

Essek gives him a strange look, but nods. “I will keep that in mind.”

“You might also find things that aren’t yours by your desk.” Caleb looks over his shoulder to see Essek still watching him. “Consider them gifts.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” Caleb pauses, realizing that none of the things he was about to list are work-appropriate, “Well, it could be anything.”

Caleb’s starting to worry that he might end up causing the rift between companies that leads to the end of the world- with his terrible first impression, and equally bad secondary impressions- but when a parasol shows up at Essek’s desk a day later, he does not ask Caleb where it came from.

He does, however, quietly ask Caleb to send along his thanks to Jester.

…

“I am not imagining that it smells particularly bad today, yes?”

Caleb has acquired, in part thanks to Veth, partial halves of two Kaiju hearts. Partial is the best they could manage, on account of the massive holes blown in the beasts’ chests. Nonetheless, he’s ecstatic- an opportunity like this, for a direct comparison, is rare.

Kaiju barbecue, as it turns out, does not smell very appetizing. It is what he would think a bucket of cleaning supplies set on fire would smell like, though it leaves the air with the unpleasant aftertaste of cheap fruit snacks.

“They’re a little charred,” he says, hiding a smile- they are far more than a little charred, “Veth’s testing out different chemical combinations for the Jaeger ammunition. I don’t think she’s quite nailed it yet.”

Essek scoffs, cautiously approaching the table with one hand over his nose and mouth, the other resting on the chair’s controls. “How many people of wildly different departments are you on a first-name basis with?”

“Just a few.” Thoroughly distracted with cutting away the burnt pieces, Caleb doesn’t look up. “There’s also, uh, Fjord. He captains one of the boats, works on deployment.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.” A soft whir, as Essek hovers a few inches higher, putting him at a better height to peer over the table with Caleb. “Do you need any help?”

Caleb blinks, surprised, and almost drops the scalpel he was sanitizing. “Aren’t you busy?”

Essek, with his old-fashioned chalkboards in the place of far more convenient holograms, never leaves his desk, never so much as turns around to bounce a theory off of Caleb. It seems like there’s a new pack of chalk and fresh notebook on his desk every other day- clearly he’s making progress, but the bubble of focus around Essek is too intimidating for Caleb to investigate.

“I’ve reached a stopping point,” Essek frowns when Caleb looks at him, waiting for him to elaborate, and sighs, “I’m stuck on the particle displacement we’ve detected at the mouth of the rifts, which only seems to effect the Kaiju, not the pilots. It’s- I don’t think you’d be interested. I need something else to do, while I brainstorm.”

Caleb manages to bite back his disappointment at not getting to hear the rest and points towards the sink- the one safe for normal use, that doesn’t currently have corrosion scars from caustic acids. “I can definitely give you that.”

Essek, unsurprisingly, is incredibly helpful. He might not fully understand the process, but he’s precise in following Caleb’s instructions and doesn’t complain when he has to touch the gross, slimy parts. He generously interprets Caleb’s just put them over there to mean place them very carefully in straight lines. It only takes him a few minutes to get the hang of it, effortlessly following Caleb’s lead as they work in parallel on their respective halves of the hearts.

“I can’t say I understand the appeal,” Essek starts, after many minutes of silence, “but there’s certainly something to working with the actual thing, rather than theory.”

Caleb is working at a particularly tough piece- the Kaiju are, if nothing else, heavily armored, inside and out- the exposure to oxygen making everything harder to pull apart, to cut up and catalogue. He doesn’t look up at Essek’s words, but finds his attention easily split.

“It’s all about,” Caleb pushes down, again, and the muscles finally give, “manipulating the body, finding what makes it tick. From there, we can change it.”

“Like,” Essek pauses, hesitating, “change it from living to dead, you mean.”

Caleb huffs, almost under his breath, “In this circumstance, perhaps.”

To his side, he sees Essek’s hands still, briefly, and feels eyes on him as Essek looks up. Essek has this way of looking at him, like he’s waiting for something, until an invisible tell gives him away. He feels both studied and seen through.

Caleb can’t say he hates it.

“You don’t sound as happy about that as I’d expect. Normally, people are thrilled at the thought of dead Kaiju,” Essek gestures, with one gloved hand, over the table, “More for you.”

Caleb looks firmly down at the heart, imagining the many cross-sections and pieces still unmapped, in the burned away absence. “I just think that more can be done.”

“I suppose that’s one thing we can agree on.” Essek is already looking at him when Caleb looks up, so their eyes meet, “The other side of the rifts are far more interesting. There’s no telling what we could find, how we could progress- but we need those doors closed, if we’re going to be alive to enjoy that progress.”

“I don’t think it’s as simple as leaving them open or closed.”

Essek leans back over the heart, having found what he was looking for in Caleb’s expression, and mutters, almost to himself, “You might be right about that.”

Caleb doesn’t say anything else, just watches as Essek finishes with his portion of the heart. Essek’s hands, even with the borrowed plastic gloves, do not look like they belong amongst the controlled carnage of the lab table. Made for spinning chalk between fingers, and gliding across the holograms.

He lines up the scalpel again, just a bit off-target, just a bit too close to the arteries. “Ah, don’t—”

Caleb grabs Essek’s hand, stopping him before he pierces something he shouldn’t- the faint burns on his own hands are proof of this lesson learned. Essek freezes, startled by the contact, and grips the scalpel a little tighter before he catches up to what’s happened and pulls back.

Caleb lets him go, with some reluctance. “The blood is, uh, acidic. You have to cut around carefully, or it– you get the picture.”

“It’s good that you were watching, then,” Essek doesn’t smile, but his face suggests that he might have, if he possessed less self-control, “I owe you one, Widogast.”

Caleb does not possess that same control- he’s not sure what Essek hears in his voice as he says, “It’s no trouble.”

He thinks, in the end, he may have been more successful in distracting himself from his work, than he was in distracting Essek.

…

Caleb has reached the point where the crick in his neck from leaning over his work, the pages and pages of pieced together neural pathways and conflicting experiments, is threatening to make the hunch of his shoulders permanent. Essek cannot be in a much better place- Caleb glances over to catch him with his head in his hands, again, a half-filled chalkboard laying forlornly on his desk.

Caleb stands with no warning, letting his pen clatter on the table and pushing his chair away with more force than necessary. Essek looks up, alarmed and- unless Caleb’s imagining it- intrigued.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

Which is how they’ve found themselves on the steel catwalk above the Jaegers, high up in the hanger and out of sight of people who know they shouldn’t be here. Neither of them are stealthy enough to pull this off for long- the equivalent of two librarians, tiny amongst the massive machines that represent their only hope against Armageddon.

“It’s always weird to see them from up here.” The giant, unpiloted mechs seem to stare back at Caleb as they’re shifted into place. Empty eyes, visors with no life behind them. “Feels like we shouldn’t be looking at them eye-to-eye.”

Essek hums, and leans forward slightly, as close to the rails as he dares. “I’m more used to seeing them in diagrams.”

Caleb had known, in theory, that there must be a tangled web of physics behind the engineering of the Jaegers, but it’s different to know that Essek holds those secrets. He’d love nothing more than to pick his brain about it, even if it’s far outside his field. It’s a shame the hanger feels like an inappropriate place to host a high-detail physics lecture.

“It must be interesting, working with us. Thelyss has been, uh,” he hesitates, unsure if this is rude to point out, “forgive me for saying, rather at odds with Dwendalian interests.”

Essek is quiet for a moment, almost long enough for Caleb to pull the ripcord and apologize, before responding, “It has been interesting. It is… an opportunity, for me, to work for something greater than I have in the past.”

“In the past?”

“We have not been as,” he pauses, searching for the word, “kind as we should have, in sharing our designs. Many have failed to consider the state of the world in our quest for progress.”

Corporate sabotage in the race for mechs is something of a well-known secret. The extent of it is hidden, mostly, behind the veil of the destruction that it coincided with. Trading the right secrets to the wrong person could take you far- it just might mean leaving burning cities in your wake.

Essek, overlooking the last of the Jaegers, the vestiges of hope for the world, suddenly looks so tired, older than Caleb had seen him before now. It reminds of Caleb of his own reflection, at night when the manic layer of end of the world is wiped away to reveal exhaustion. Essek’s formality, the organized face he presents, functions as just another mask.

“I have made many mistakes. I am hoping-” Essek shakes his head, correcting himself, “All I can do is try again. To be better.”

Caleb cannot absolve him, cannot lift the weight of things unsaid, guilt anchored deeply. He can only stand there, at Essek’s side, and carry his own guilt.

“Leave it to the end of the world to show us that we can only move forward, until we run out of road.” Caleb tries for a smile, one Essek doesn’t match. “Sometimes, I’m not sure there’s still road. Feel like I’m drifting over the dirt, these days.”

Essek’s response, agreement or disagreement, is drowned out as they start shifting another of the Jaegers, the dragging of metal and old supports strained to their limits forming a din that has passerby covering their ears. Caleb watches its pilots stare up at it, unflinching in the noise.

He finds himself talking as the noise stops, filling the vacuum of silence, “I was almost one of them, you know.”

After he says it, he immediately regrets it. In one moment, it feels like the thing to do- share something personal, after Essek had taken the first step- and in the next, it feels like an entirely unnecessary can of worms. Because, of course, the next question is-

“Under who?”

Caleb swallows and considers lying. He could do it. He could keep it vague- he should, it should stay buried like his name. He’s not entirely sure why he doesn’t want to.

“Ikithon.”

He sees it, the second he says it. He sees the recognition, the surprise, the fear. Essek knows that name, more than anyone in passing knows that name. To Essek, he is not simply an unpleasant teacher.

He doesn’t want to see Essek as someone who worked with Ikithon- he doesn’t want to know what it means that he would forgive Essek, in a heartbeat, but can’t do same for himself.

“I wasn’t able to drift,” Caleb continues, and almost believes that’s the whole truth, the entire, uncomplicated reason, “Dropped out of the Academy.” Not before the damage was done.

Essek looks down, studying the grimy floor beneath them. “Probably for the best.”

“I’m starting to think we should’ve put our funding into time machines, instead of Jaegers.” Caleb sighs, and feels a part of himself leave with his breath. He looks to his side, where Essek remains silent. “Should’ve gone into physics, I guess.”

People rush around below them, preparing for another Jaeger to enter. The gate is cleared, the runway lights up, and various maintenance teams stand at the ready. Caleb wonders how they can stand this, how they can keep going through the motions every day, even as less and less pilots return.

He supposes he could say the same about himself, about anyone still coming to work on this base. For the first time in a long time, they’re all working towards the same thing. They’re all looking to the pilots, spending what’s left of their lives to stack the deck in their favor.

“I know a few of them,” Caleb pauses, and clarifies, “The pilots, I mean.”

“You failed to mention that, in your list of people you know.” Essek tries to laugh, though it doesn’t quite come out right, and looks back up at Caleb, “Which ones?”

“I’m not sure you know them.” People in their position don’t generally interact with the pilots, directly. Caleb would say it’s strange for him to have friends in the Academy, but it’s not the weirdest connection he’s made recently. “Yasha and Beau on the Cobalt line. They’re only just out of the Academy.”

Only just out and making a formidable reputation for themselves. He’s only skimmed the statistics, but if there was a leaderboard, he’d say they’re pulling ahead. Knowing Beau, that’s greater motivation than the potential for saving the world.

Essek’s façade falls away completely, showing his surprise. “The two terrifying women in the Expositor?”

“Those are the ones,” Caleb leans against the railing, out of the shadows. A little more bold, now that most of the people below are distracted. A massive Jaeger, with chipping blue paint and massive jets affixed to its back, steps in through the gate, tracking in water around its heels. “Speak of the devil.”

He can imagine Beau and Yasha working in tandem, seamlessly, to bring the mech into the hanger, ducking its head slightly to make it under the doorway. One hand is occupied, clenched around a scaly leg, metal fingers dug into the fallen Kaiju’s flesh. It’s oddly small, not the fully grown beasts Caleb is used to seeing them drag through.

“Is that-“ Essek doesn’t finish his question, perhaps because he can see the answer in Caleb’s expression.

The Kaiju’s head is entirely intact, its skull spared at the expense of a hole in its chest. A full brain, no shrapnel or missing pieces. Exactly what Caleb has been waiting for, exactly what he’s been trying to piece together.

Essek follows at his heels as Caleb dashes for the stairs, stealth forgotten altogether.

…

The whirring of saws and grim, grinding sounds of bone being cut come to an end, at long last. There’s a tube prepped, filled with foul-smelling chemicals intended to preserve and suspend alien flesh. The sound, as the brain is deposited, is somehow worse than the grinding noise.

Essek looks at him, watching silently for a long moment. It is difficult, to feel his eyes on him and not look back, but Caleb manages it, keeping his gaze focused on the mass of nerves before him.

“I understand the temptation.”

Caleb laughs, with no humor. “Do you?”

The headset is light, almost flimsy, in his hands. He passes it between them, running his hands over the familiar metal and wires. It looks like it might fall apart any second now, not at all like it’s made of expensive, stolen equipment. Not all like Caleb’s been thinking about it for months, like it could save them all- if he can pull this off.

The Kaiju’s brain floats in the container in front of him, wires trailing off of it. Essek sits beside it, the filtered green light through the tube casting harsh shadows over his face. He’s not supposed to be here, but Caleb should’ve known that Essek wouldn’t stick to his scheduled breaks.

“I know more about temptation than you, Caleb.”

It’s rare to hear Essek angry- figures that he chooses a time like this to finally call Caleb by his first name.

“Then you should know that I can’t pass up this opportunity.” Caleb clicks the final pieces into place, watching the lights on the headset start to glow. He loses the fight against another temptation and glances over to Essek, who looks to be fighting fiercely not for a neutral expression, but to keep back tears. “I will not have more lives on my conscience. If this could win us the fight, I have to do it.”

He reaches for the control panel, lifting the headset with his other hand. He has to get this over with before he loses his nerve, before Essek decides to find someone who might actually be able to stop him, before Jester or Veth or anyone else stumble upon him

Essek grabs his wrist, stopping him. His eyes are wide, a little surprised at himself, but he meets Caleb’s stare dead-on.

“I don’t want to lose you to this,” he clears his throat, and looks down, away, “We all still need you.”

Even now, they can’t help but lie to themselves.

“I have to do this.”

Essek looks back at him and for once, seems frustrated to be unable to peer behind Caleb’s eyes, to get the answers he always does. He looks to the side with a heavy sigh, and Caleb thinks for a moment that he’s given up, that he’s going to agree, when Essek lets go of his hand to reach behind them, to the lab table still covered in wires and abandoned tech.

Many drafts of the headset sit amongst the wreckage, the results of late nights spent working with a collection born of Veth’s sticky fingers and Caleb’s hoarding. Essek grabs one, easily picking out the most functional of the bunch, and presses it into Caleb’s free hand.

“Fine,” his face sets, not in the neutral that Caleb’s come to expect, but in a determination that feels almost dangerous, “Then I’m coming with you.”

Essek’s eyes are a dare, waiting for Caleb to find a reason to deny him. He knows, as well as Caleb, that two of them would increase their chances of surviving this. He also knows, maybe better than Caleb, that none of that matters. Caleb would always rather take the brunt of it, than allow his friends to hurt.

This feels, distinctly, like an argument Caleb can’t win. Essek looks a few seconds away from hooking it up himself.

Caleb sighs, a faint smile escaping him. “Didn’t think you’d be repaying that favor so soon.”

Essek only pushes the headset more firmly into his hands, though it’s hard to tell whether he’s safe-guarding against Caleb losing his nerve, or losing his own nerve.

Caleb puts Essek’s headset on first, taking longer than necessary to adjust its fit, before putting on his own. They sit across from each other, in the distorted shadow of the brain. Essek’s gaze, fixed on Caleb, doesn’t waver and just before Caleb hits the switch, he holds out his hand.

Caleb takes it and turns on the machine.

The drift hits him immediately, like a weight falling on his brain as something too big climbs into his skull and pushes his mind out to the edges, pressed against bone. Everything else, outside of his mind and Essek’s mind and this new intrusion, disappears entirely. Sensation, apart from a terrible, sourceless pain, leaves him.

Essek’s mind bursts into focus like a searing light in the abyss, a star far above him. Caleb reaches for it, as the mind of the Kaiju, oppressive and all-consuming, threatens to swallow him up.

He feels their connection like entwined hands, before they collapse into each other, blurring into one. Warm and cool colors mix together in threads that wind and wind around until they are one inseparable string. Shared pain is conducted through it, a wire of strange electricity.

He is hearing a city on fire, screaming, and imagines he can pick out familiar voices in the chaos.

He is shaking a hand like a corpse, bony and terrible as its fingernails dig into his skin.

He is on a cold tile floor, aware that he is alone, alone, alone—

Somewhere, outside of himself, he squeezes Essek’s hand.

The Kaiju bears down on both of them and he finds himself standing beside Essek on a destroyed city street, its features a mashed together version of Caleb and Essek’s childhoods. It is too much for either of them, even standing together, but when he looks down at Essek, he sees only his smile, sharp and confident.

Everything begins to dissolve as the mind- the many minds- of the Kaiju falls over them.

…

Waking up is not fun.

Once, in grad school, Caleb stayed up for 52 hours, subsisting on diabolical combinations of energy drinks and pure spite for his professors. After turning in his last assignments, including a paper that served as a major breakthrough in his field but was so manic it was incomprehensible to anyone except Caleb, he crashed hard and did not wake for another day, when Veth checked to see if he was still alive.

He could’ve sworn, at the time, that the headache he felt upon seeing light for the first time that day was the worst he’d ever experience.

This headache easily doubles it.

The lights are, mercifully, left completely off, with only the dim sunlight leaking out from under the blinds turning the infirmary room a dull grey. He’s sat, partially upright, on the thin mattress of the hospital bed, a place he knows well. Outside the room, he can just make out the quiet, constant noise of their busy med station, conversation and machines overlapping.

To his right, similarly propped up, is Essek.

He wakes at the same moment as Caleb and they both turn, surprise mirrored in their faces. At seeing each other, at being alive at all- it’s anybody’s guess.

Objectively, Caleb is sure they both look absolutely terrible, but he can only see the light in Essek’s eyes and his tired smile. There’s a drowsy kind of comfort between the two of them, relief of tension being let go. They lived- they both lived.

“This is not the warm welcome to the land of the living I was hoping for.”

Caleb laughs, even if it hurts, a little. “This feels less like a welcome party, and more like breaking a window and climbing back in.”

There’s no connection between them anymore, no wires or drifts, but he still feels it faintly, a buzzing at the back of his head. Essek’s pain feels like an echo of his own, and his warmth is still there, as if he’s still holding his hand. It’s stable, an anchor to new wakefulness.

“They should’ve known better than to put two of us in the same lab.” Essek shakes his head, and winces at the movement. “It could only ever have ended in disaster.”

Caleb grins and is pleased to see Essek do the same, just as unguarded as he was in the drift.

They only have a few minutes before Jester comes in to yell at him for being stupid- possibly, the whole crew is lined up somewhere outside, lists of grievances in hand. Shortly following that, he assumes there will be a small battalion of military personnel waiting to hear what they’ve discovered.

Until then, he has time to do more stupid things, mostly unsupervised.

He drags himself out of the bed, pretending that he doesn’t nearly collapse as soon as his feet hit the floor, and wheels the bed closer to Essek’s, carefully maneuvering the wires still attached to his chest and arms. Once they’re an arm’s length away, Caleb stops and climbs back in.

This time, he holds his hand out first and knows, without a doubt, that Essek will take it.

#shadowgast week 2021 #caleb widogast #essek #shadowgast #critical role #ahhh this so long #do not have time to edit tonight #but i swear itll be up on ao3 tomorrow #ignore the many times i misspelled physics #im very tired

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lolathepeacocklord · 3 years

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Chapter 2 – Run Rabbit Run God… It was such an awful day. He was given the day off from work for feeling sick, and on his way to his dorm right around the corner to his hallway he stepped on something… Red. Blood. It looked fresh too. He just thought alright- maybe some girl was having a messy day, but there was more. Droplets were now little puddles of red. All the way to his room where it looked like some ketchup monster fell over against the door. And started… Crawling. All the way to the bathroom. Smith gently opened the door. He could remember it in so much detail. Most of it just being blood. Lots and lots of blood everywhere- all coming from his roommate who was bleeding to death in the bathtub. He literally looked like he was tossed into a cage full of angry tigers. And that’s only slightly exaggerating. It looked like something just out of a horror movie. After his friend got sent to the hospital for several days, he got asked a lot about what happened- always giving them the strangest response. He kept saying that a man did this to him. All these gashes and tears were caused by a… Human male. They weren’t sure if it was just the anesthetics when they first asked him, but he stuck to the story. He thought he saw this woman getting attacked, and he ran over to try and help. But when he got closer, then man who pinned her to the ground was… Eating her. Tearing her apart with his hands and teeth. And then he went for Hunter. Smith was really worried about his friend after he returned home. Almost immediately when he thought he was okay he returned and then they were both sick as hell. Then the emergency broadcast came on TV, and Smith was just suddenly in- immense amounts of pain. He couldn’t see right, and it literally felt like his insides were moving around in him. He tried to go get his friend. Tell him they were a lot sicker then they thought. Right in front of the door he collapsed on the ground, and everything went black from there. That was his last memory. The last moments in a normal world.

Common infected littered the streets- dead and alive. Most of them just wandering around aimlessly, sleeping in any place they found fit, and some just starting random baby fights over who would get to eat this person’s body. Being infected was at least handy in the aspect the commons didn’t pay much attention to you. Sometimes they’d try and attack you just because they’re brainless morons now. But a full on horde was never really a problem to him. Just crowded. He was one of them, they were one of him. He hated to think about that, but it was true. The rain let up on him finally, which was the first convenient thing that happened to him today. He wasn’t gonna get absolutely drenched anymore. But he still kept an eye out for anything that could be… Following him. From the few things he’s seen, he knew that special infected could be very efficient hunters. And they may not hesitate to attack their own kind- so he moved along swiftly down the street. Smith wandered out to a giant intersection in town, and took a moment to look around at the buildings surrounding him. He’s gone quite a distance from home. A thing or two here was ever so slightly familiar. But whatever it was It was now in shambles, and either on fire or it looked like it was about to collapse at any moment. He continued along, trying to stay concealed under the shadows of buildings. He already drew enough attention to himself with the occasional coughing and wheezing. At least from what he’s seen most smoker’s have a green mist around them. He was gifted enough to not have that, unless a tumor got popped open or punctured. Then there will be stink mist and weird goo dripping out of him. It was… Really gross. He hated it. There was still a lot to get used to with this mutation. But he felt like he was never going to get used to it. Who can just suddenly get used to a new body like this after living with a normal human one for 27 years? This session of moping was suddenly cut off when he heard something. Something small was flashing red in the distance, and… Beeping? It definitely got the attention of several common infected, and they all ran over to start hitting and attacking it. Then just like that the thing exploded- sending zombie part flying everywhere “WHOO! That was a BIG one!” Some dude ran over to the gorey aftermath and laughed about it. Four other people followed behind him- three girls and another guy it looked like. The boy who just threw that bomb looked pretty young- maybe in his last years of high school. He had messy brown hair and wore a torn up leather jacket. He seemed… A little too happy about there being zombie guts everywhere. One of the girls started scolding him for running over and laughing about the bomb explosion. “This isn’t a game you know!” She was a short blonde woman, looking like she may have been Asian. Her hair was in a bob cut and oddly neat for it being the end of the world. The other three people was a girl with light brown hair up in a ponytail, and seemed a lot sharper then the rest of the team. Seemed like she was maybe the leader? The other woman had shoulder length hair that was pitch black, with a little bit of purple faded into it. She looked like she could have been your junior high bully, or the biggest mcr fan you’ve ever met. She was a little gruff, but in more of a charismatic way. She also seemed to get along with the leader girl. The last man was taller then everyone else, had neat brown hair and glasses, and had a neat turtleneck sweater that was now covered with blood and other stains. He was trying to help lead around the rowdy boy, who was very disobedient and kept trying to screw around with the infected before he chopped their head off with an axe. “Look Ed- I know we’ve been in the safehouse for a few days, and you’re excited to be out! But you can’t just run off and be a reckless idi-” “Cram it, Goodman.” Ed shoved a pistol into a sleeping zombies mouth and fired. He snapped his head to the right real fast and stared blankly into the alleyway. “You coming?” The queen of emo asked him. Goodman had a map with them and they were trying to figure out where they were, and where they were gonna be heading. “Yeah sorry, I thought I saw something.” The boy shrugged and went back to the rest of the group. ‘Shit.’ Smith thought frantically- hiding behind a dumpster. If it wasn’t so damn dark here they may have saw him. Shit- He seemed to have… Misjudged how far away the survivors actually were. Good god- how could he get out of here. Should he just wait it out? They might go in the direction he wanted to go. But he also wasn’t going anywhere specifically. Just away from this place. He put his hand over his lumpy neck for a moment, feeling… Odd? And quickly he slapped both his hands over his mouth. God damn it- another coughing fit. At the worst possible time too. He tries to hard to make these stop, but he just… Can’t. It’s too difficult, and not to say painful as well. Ed looked down that same alley again, squinting a bit and only half listening to what the group was discussing. Sounded like something was… Wheezing? Crying? Coughing? He couldn’t really tell. “Where are you goi-” “Chill out pipsqueak, I just think I head something.” He readied a sniper rifle and cautiously approached the area. “Uh… Hello? Any zombies making love back here?” He asked, peeking around the corner. Smith’s heart almost stopped right there and then when he heard how close he was getting. He proceeded to press himself against the dumpster and think of what to do. He was gonna need to act fast if he wanted to live. He looked to the side very slowly and saw the tip of the gun… “Hey! What are you doing back there!?” The emo girl yelled over. Ed turned around and responded “Something back here smells like shit, I wanted to see wh-” Before he could finish that sentence he got socked in the face and someone’s knees slammed directly into the crotch. He fell on the ground writhing in pain, and Smith took the chance to grab his gun and start running off. “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-” Everyone was on him now, and there was a dead end. Wonderful. It was mostly covered by wooden planks, but more to the side he could see the fence was made of chains. He was probably gonna die right now anyways, but he may as well go down trying to save himself. The survivors ran over to see their injured friend, who had a bloody nose and probably no more balls. “What was that!? Did you see??” Goodman helped him up and watched the leader chase the attacker. “Megan’s going after it. I think it was a… Zombie? Pen, did you see him?” “Yeah, he looked like a zombie I’m pretty sure.” The short girl said. “Looks like he came to avenge his fallen comrades.” She looked at Ed with a small sneer. Megan chased the smoker down all the way to a dead end, where he just dropped the sniper rifle and started climbing the fence. Right as he got to the top she ran to snatch the gun, quickly took aim, and fired. With a shriek he fell off the fence on the other side, writing and pain. She got him in his left arm, and he was bleeding out fast. He was on the other side though, so he pushed himself back up and started booking it out of there. Megan sighed softly and returned to her friends. “I drove him off. Don’t worry, I don’t think he’ll be coming back.”

Smith had been running for a good long while- grasping his arm tightly and breathing heavily. The troubling thing now is that he was bleeding a lot, and things started to get… Blurry. He leaned against a wall real quick, trying to catch his breathe. Problem was it didn’t feel like he was catching his breathe. Ever. He wheezed loudly with each inhale and exhale, but it felt like almost no oxygen got into him. His legs were shaky, he felt weak… God, he was so tired. He glanced at his shoulder for a second and-

”SHIT!” He screamed and saw someone reaching over to him. Once more he socked them in the face- sending them onto the ground. They scrambled away for a moment, and then Smith pulled out his shotgun. ”DON’T FUCKING MOVE!” He screamed, wheezing loudly afterwards. ”Waitwaitwait don’t shoot don’t shoot!” The man shouted back, sounding terrified. He was holding his hands up, and neither of them moved for several moments. The guy was in a spot Smith couldn’t really see him. Damn it, the sun was about to set soon. Everything was dark. “Okay… I want you to stand on up, and walk over here slowly.” Smith sighed. He felt like he was gonna faint any moment now. “Okay-! Alright. Just… Don’t freak out, okay?” The man was a lot calmer now, and proceeded to stand up. He took each step forward with caution, and didn’t take his eye off Smith or the shotgun for even a second. And the smoker right there and then almost fainted from what he saw. “I’m sorry, you just looked… Wait, you’re injured.” Was what the man had to say. The guy had his brown hair in a small ponytail, he was terribly obese, he wore a blue coat with a white shirt underneath it, and he looked at Smith not with fear anymore. But with concern. “I heard gunshots not too far away. Were people trying to hurt you.” Still frozen in place, Smith just continued staring at the man. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The guy seemed completely normal, yeah. Except for the bulging tumor covering his right eye, and the two smaller ones visible on his neck.

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cordiallyfuturedwight · 9 months

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now showing: love me again (2023) // kim taehyung (v)

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obscurecharactershowdown · 10 months

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Group F Round 4

[image ID: the first image is of Forest Friend, an anthropomorphic rock with a cube shaped head, round body, and thin arms and legs. there is a little chip on his head and a crack running into his left eye. growing from his head are leaves in various shades of red. the second image is of Granger, a girl with green eyes and short, wavy or curly black hair. in her hair is a red hat or ribbon. she's wearing a black turtleneck sweater, blue overalls, and a green coat. end ID]

Forest Friend

Little DUDE right here!!! He follows you around and like you give him apples and he becomes your friend!! And then he starts copying your movements and you guys just run around the forest together solving platforming puzzles!! And then he opens a pathway for you and gives you one of the things you need!! But then he doesn’t come with you :((( and the forest gets all red because you’re angry and sad that he didn’t come with you, and the whole thing is a metaphor for one of the five stages of grief and I’m pretty sure it’s bargaining and honestly that’s pretty cool anyways play Gris

Granger

so granger is the main character of the indie game "NeverHome" Chapter one, which is only $1 on Steam, is called NeverHome: Hall of Apathy. if ur a fan of young protags being put in RPG maker horror games, then this is the game for you!! so granger is just that… she wakes up to find herself in a strange, hostile world. she, along with the friends she makes, must solve the various puzzles before them while creatures are out to kill them… and along the way they can uncover the secrets of these never ending halls… her dynamics with the cast is also super fun… each character gets their moment or moments with granger. and what's so cute is that there's unique art for each pair that highlights the fact you cant get through these halls alone!! she also has her own theme song!! here!! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_vwtmIj5cw it's called cyclical tragedy AND HERE IS AN ANALYSIS OF THE THEME!! MUSIC THEORY!!! written by my good friend @HIEMIOLA "cyclical tragedy" embodies the protagonist, granger, through the music theory behind the track and ties itself back into the main track as well. to begin with an overview of the track, the key is D minor and hte time signature is 3/4. the piece begins with a broken minor third starting from the tonic. that is, it begins on the main note and moves along the main chord, D to F. the next set of notes are C to E, which is shifted down a step. the phrase repeats again, this time D to F, then G to E, which is an inverse movement from the original sequence. even in this first part, we could tell that the protagonist begins from square 1 with a simple pattern, then tries it again when it works. however, the inverse breaks that expectation of repetition, thus showing the diverse variations of solutions she comes up with using just the tools she has (the two notes moving in thirds). just like the game, she is given a handful of objects as well as a knife to defend herself and solve the mysteries of the world she exists in. with her creative uses of the items given to her, she continues on her way through the plot. we will keep moving. the melody begins. true to the title of the track, the melody cycles around the same beginning note, D, that she always returns to at her square 1. this is a nod to the save states she is allowed to keep to make sure that we the players don't lose the game, but it also references the health bar that appears as a circle around her avatar. the melody, mapped out, is also moving in an up-down wave movement across the sheet music. granger is creative with the knife she has and the quest items she obtains throughout the story, but she is not entirely reckless. rather, she knows when it is time to return to the safe rooms to rest. to time her returns requires skill because she must run to cover without being caught by varying her path so the enemies don't corner her as she tries to return to the room. most of the time, she is successful, shown through the consistent return to the beginning note. let's keep going. i would like to turn your attention to the main theme briefly. in the bass notes, you can hear arpeggios and outlined chords. this makes up the bulk of the accompaniment in the main game theme. [mod note: the rest of the essay, and some more propaganda, is continued under a cut because tumblr will not process more text than this in an indent. sorry to split it up, please continue below for the rest of the essay and additional propaganda!]

the third variation of granger's theme also has arpeggiated chords in the accompaniment while the melody features broken chords. at this stage, the pattern switches to eigth notes instead of the quarter notes at first. with greater movement and heightened senses, she runs throughout world and befriends other people, thus interacting further with the environment. while she isn't exactly someone we would call open, she is respectful to the people she first meets and has no problems with asking them for help when she needs it. because of her openness to working together, she speeds up her progress by asking for aid at obstacles that would be too difficult for her to overcome on her own, such as asking a teammate to break things, move things, or reach into smaller holes. fusing the main theme elements with her own theme marks this step as the inciting incident that sets her on the path to escape from this world. we'll continue.

continuing the same part, we hear some secondary fifths. i'm not entirely sure if this is what you call it, but it is a nod to the parallel key, D major. depending on what theory class you take, this could also be considered the other half of the key. i dont know how else to describe it, but i digress. these are glimpses to different dialogue options she could take, glimpses to a different key or a different ending. because this game only has one chapter ending so far, we are unsure of what other paths granger will end up in; we only know that there are certainly other endings she will experience, only to begin the cycle again when the save state is loaded for players to reach another ending. both A major and G major are chords that signify different choices that may lead her elsewhere only for her to return back to the tonic or main note, D. despite this, she keeps going, as will we.

at the midpoint of the track, we see a quick shift in patterns. instead of upward leaps in the notes, the melody falls in stepwise motion. true to the plot, this is another turning point of the game when she is forced to make a choice: continue or stop. after facing the spoiler event, her once determined personality is challenged as she struggles to keep herself and her team together. despite being the headstrong protagonist who spearheaded solutions, even now she finds herself doubting and taking smaller steps, smaller risks.

even after all of this, she rises to the challenge as the melody returns to its beginning sequence. true to a protagonist she gets up again despite the events that transpired and keeps her team moving in their lowest points. the thirds return as she finds more objects to solve more puzzles to open more rooms to save more friends. this repeating part of the track only solidifies her resolve as the piece ends with a broken chord in the main key, her key, of D minor. despite everything that transpired, she stayed true to herself."

the game is also so, so charming with the art, music, and story made by the same person… its so clearly loved and full of passion!! i love listening to the game's ost on occassion!! since it's all on youtube!

ok one last thing thing!! on may 8th, the game hit 100 downloads (on both steam and itch.io). you can see the creator of the game celebrate that with this lovely drawing of granger: https://twitter.com/NeverHome_Game/status/1655761270694633472

so at most, only a bit over 100 people have played the game… id like to say that makes it obscure!!

anyways granger and neverhome!! we love to see our protagonists put in horrific situations and isn't she super cute with a lil bow on her head? she is my daughter…

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airesgay · 3 years

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from horror films to sugar highs

relationship: jennifer jareau/emily prentiss

words: 3,723

summary: a brief history of Emily Prentiss's intimate relationship with Halloween.

Read on ao3

Halloween was a holiday you’d immediately associate with Emily Prentiss just looking at her - even more so if you’d been lucky enough to see her high school days. Of course the Goth had to be obsessed with Halloween, right? The aesthetic was all there (plus it was her favourite season, not too cold, but cold enough that black turtlenecks were suitable attire).

Except she hadn’t had the kind of parents to take their kid trick or treating – hell, she never had a suburban neighbourhood to facilitate anything of the kind.

Some might have thought she’d partaken in the odd Halloween shenanigan at college, but she was too focused on her studies to degrade herself in such activities. She did have a love for horror films, maybe because her ability to handle them better than her peers gave her a bit of a god complex – she was big enough to admit that. In all honesty, she liked Halloween because it meant her roommate was out for the night, almost guaranteed not to return until morning, and she got a quiet night to herself, to watch whatever scary films she fancied. Depending on how she was feeling she’d invite one of her (two) friends over and she’d laugh at how they cowered behind a pillow.

Halloween and Emily had a somewhat intimate relationship - a low-key affair -but it was certainly her favourite holiday: one where watching scary films by yourself was an acceptable way to celebrate, especially as an adult. It wasn’t wrapped up with the mandatory family time that Christmas or thanksgiving were, didn’t ask for fake displays of love and good will. Her mother had certainly never asked her to attend a Halloween dinner with her fellow diplomats, that required she wear a ghastly dress and make small talk with the latest prick deemed a fine young man. People said Halloween was about dressing up as someone you weren’t; for Emily it let her be who she was. Just Emily.

The past decade had gifted her many new memories. In a lot of ways it had healed old wounds; the scars would always be there, but she felt like she’d been given a second chance. To experience things in life the way normal people did.

On her first Halloween with the team she made her feeling towards all the more commercial festivities known. It took a few years, and some breaking down of walls, before she let herself be fully dragged into their shenanigans. And so she’d found herself dressed up in an itchy orange turtleneck far more block-like than she was used to, similarly blocky glasses, and an itchy brown wig that she kept trying to remove. It was all very itchy and blocky.

‘Hey, you’ll ruin the illusion!’ JJ had protested, swatting her hand away from the wig.

Emily pouted in a way that some would think exaggerated, but JJ knew her disdain was completely genuine. She laughed at the older woman as she leaned down close to her face, eyeliner poised.

‘Okay, now hold still,’ she instructed.

Emily felt her lips twitch at the feeling of hot breath on her face, pout faltering. She straightened up as JJ applied freckles to her cheeks. The blonde finished her work, but lingered just a moment, catching Emily’s eye, who’d stopped breathing a minute ago. Or rather, she wasn’t blonde at all - not right now anyway. She was currently wearing a ginger wig that looked even itchier than Emily’s, but she wore it like it was her own. In fact she wore the whole outfit like it was every-day wear. Naturally JJ would suit even a hideous wig and the most ghastly colour of purple.

She’d grown closer to the media liaison in the past year, but she still found herself watching her for too long, cursing herself for fear of making her uncomfortable. She knew nothing was ever going to happen, she just didn’t want to ruin the friendship they’d been steadily building. She wasn’t in any position to throw those away.

‘I think you should keep these,’ JJ said, breaking Emily out of her thoughts.

When she didn’t respond, JJ applied one last freckle, making Emily scoff and bat her hand away. JJ let out a hearty laugh, which only made Emily’s heart clench more. She was saved by Spencer coming bundling into the room, in a baggy green t-shirt and his natural hair sticking out in every direction. Emily didn’t think he’d needed to go quite so hard on the hair gel.

‘Oh you guys look great!’ he exclaimed, beaming brightly.

JJ gave her thanks and gestured back to Emily. ‘She’s just so cute don’t you think?’

Emily rolled her eyes, trying to hide her blush. She knew she was teasing her, but the comment still made her feel weak and she hated herself for it.

‘Okay, let’s get this show on the road,’ she declared as she tried to muster enthusiasm. ‘Garcia got her head out of Morgan’s ass yet?’

Spencer choked. ‘Well, if you mean Penelope’s fixed the back end of their costume, then I think so.’

Emily and JJ shared an amused look, shaking their heads. Of course if they were going as the Scooby gang, Penelope and Derek were doing a couples costume; the tech goddess insisting on being the front part of the beloved great dane, while Derek was left being the ass, as she put it. He didn’t complain. Hey if you’ve got it flaunt it, babygirl. Those exchanges lasted for another two minutes before any real planning took place.

Their unit chief had resigned himself to wearing a white shirt with blue collar and blonde wig, which everyone else enjoyed immensely. His excuse of taking Jack out had been quickly ripped to shreds. Nice try, Halloween isn’t until tomorrow! Penelope had fired back with glee. The oldest of their team had announced he was taking off for the weekend for a solitary fishing trip. In October? Penelope had questioned, eyes narrowed in a way that was frightening. Rossi hadn’t responded and with that he was gone, not to be seen until Monday morning.

‘Well, we better get going,’ JJ sighed, and offered Emily a hand up off the stool she’d been sat on. ‘Don’t want to give HR anything more to talk about.’

‘Oh no I’m not going to another one of those seminars.’

Emily shuddered at the thought as she took the other woman’s hand. She forced down the butterflies in her stomach.

* * *

A decade later and Emily truly felt like a kid again. Or rather, the kid she’d never got to be, like this was her first ever Halloween. Of course it wasn’t. But this was Emily’s first Halloween with the boys. Tonight felt like the start of a new tradition, something special.

Her costume choice of the night was, of course, Morticia Addams. The boys had followed suit, which was why Henry was currently decked out in a striped shirt, dyed black hair slicked back, while his little brother stood beside him with the detached end of a mop over his head, sunglasses over that. He’d desperately wanted to let his hair grow for a year in preparation but this idea had been firmly stamped out by an exasperated JJ.

She was a good mother, she let her kids express themselves however they wanted; Henry himself had worn his hair past his shoulders for many years, claiming he looked like Thor, god of thunder. However Michael’s wish was less of an expression of personal style and more a desire to look like a literal mop for Halloween. She’d caught him rolling around the floor before it’d been cleaned to achieve this effect. For hygiene and fear of head injuries, she asked him to please wait until Halloween and I will make you a costume. She was at the end of her rope when Emily then suggested he inhale helium to replicate the voice.

The whole ensemble costume had been JJ’s idea - admittedly after watching the film together the year before and not being able to think of anything other than Emily in that particular get up. It had actually worked out pretty well. The boys said it was perfect, because that’s what they were - a family. JJ definitely didn’t have to give Emily a hug when her eyes started to well with tears.

Everything was perfect. The house covered in cobwebs and skeletons and spiders, the pumpkins they’d carved together sitting out on the porch. Henry was proving to be quite the artist, and JJ had to stop herself from getting too carried away with ideas for his future. They’d made their way through all their favourite Halloween films the week before. Everything was perfect, except they were missing one family member.

JJ had been held up on a case - one of the few that had recently taken them out of state. They tried not to make that a habit these days. They were older, and as the boys so proudly declared, a family. It wasn’t that they felt the obligation to be stay at home mums now they’d reached a certain age; in fact they were anything but, still working full time at the office, and on cases in state. But they both came to a point where they didn’t want to step on that jet what felt like every single week, not knowing how long it would be until they returned.

After so many years of reading Henry bedtime stories over the phone, JJ wanted to read to Michael in person, and with Emily by her side. The mere fact that this was the first Halloween they got to spend together, when her and JJ had been dating for years now, living together for the past three and their one year wedding anniversary coming up – well it was a sign that something needed to change. Emily asked her wife if she had regrets about how she’d lived her life up until now. JJ just smiled and brought a hand up to her cheek. No, she replied, assuring her partner, I just know how I want the rest of my days to go.

And so, after over a decade of no resemblance of a real sleep schedule, they were semi-retired (which in their line of work just meant specialised desk jobs). Honestly, it was the right time; they couldn’t keep running around after psychopaths the rest of their days. Their bodies thanked them for it. Although Emily still insisted on giving JJ massages every other night. Something JJ thanked her for in kind. They’d fallen happily into their new routine, them and Garcia having their own little team on the ground.

But JJ was still as committed to the job as ever - specifically committed to the families. Which was why she wasn’t at home right now getting ready for their first real Halloween as a family.

The case they’d been working had been a hard one. Of course they were all hard, but this one hit JJ personally. She didn’t talk about her sister much, but of course Emily knew; she was one of the few people she felt comfortable talking about her with - talking about her in a way that almost didn’t hurt. So of course Emily knew as soon as she opened the case file, that JJ wouldn’t be coming home on time at the end of this case. And that was the way it was always going to go.

She’d stayed behind an extra day to sort things out with the family. It might have seemed overstepping but she’d grown a bond with them over the past week, and she would never have left when she felt someone still needed her help. She was due to be back tomorrow morning, the first flight she could get back. She was absolutely torn up about missing it. But Emily told her, as she had once before, you’re too good. It was something of a tension breaker to make JJ smile at the memory. But Emily also knew it was what JJ needed. It was moments like these that helped her.

Emily was fixing the mop atop Michael’s very bouncy head when the doorbell rang. Giving up – it would either stay on his head or it wouldn’t – she made her way to the door. And there was Penelope, holding an ever-disgruntled Sergio, who was just thankful he was not required to wear a costume. Penelope on the other hand was decked out in full witches gear.

Emily couldn’t help the laugh that came out, more like a cackle.

‘I thought you were meant to be Sabrina? Not looking very modern day teen witch there PG.’

She continued to laugh at Penelope’s trademark scowl.

‘Well that’s no fun is it!’ she shot back. ‘Besides she dressed up as a classic witch for a Halloween episode so ha! And I have this!’ She swivelled around to show off her glitter-covered vacuum cleaner. ‘Sergio is just lucky I left him be, isn’t that right Salem?’

Sergio looked up at his owner of the past nine years and Emily could have sworn she saw an eye roll. If only he could really talk, she was sure he’d have a few choice words. But she knew he loved her, so much that he made it clear who he wanted to stay with when Emily had returned from her faking her own death holiday. She didn’t take offence; who could say no to Penelope Garcia?

‘Where are my precious godsons?’ Penelope all but sang, standing up on her tiptoes to see into the kitchen.

‘We’re not precious!’

‘Oh no you are very scary!’ Penelope fake screamed and recoiled in horror as the two boys attacked her in a hug.

Penelope gave them both kisses on the cheek before looking back up to Emily. ‘Our girl not back yet huh?’

Emily sighed. ‘Pen you know she’s not flying in until tomorrow morning.’

‘Yeah’ Penelope pouted, but didn’t let herself be sad for more than a second. She immediately straightened up and placed her hands on her hips resolutely. ‘Well we’ll just have to get enough candy for your mum too won’t we? What do we save for her?’

She smiled down at the boys as they screamed their answer: ‘Cheetos!’ They then went tumbling out the door with Penelope looking after them in adoration.

Emily might have one day hoped to be in her shoes, with godsons to spoil, but never in the ones she found herself in today, with the two boys calling out into the night ‘hurry up mum we have a lot of ground to cover!’ Penelope looked back at her friend of over a decade knowingly, letting her have a moment to collect herself before she hurried after the two. Emily felt the ache in her chest at her wife’s absence subside a little watching their best friend stumble after the boys in an even higher pair of heels than usual. She considered taking a video to send to Luke but knew the wrath of Garcia was not worth it.

They made it round half their houses for the night before reaching Derek and Savannah’s. Hank answered the door in a full Black Panther outfit. Emily could have sworn he’d doubled in size since seeing him last. Though she supposed Derek would say the same of her boys. It was only because she saw them everyday.

They had settled in for evening drinks after finishing the circuit with Hank when the doorbell rang. Emily frowned. Bit too late now isn’t it? Their own boys had passed out on the couch after their sugar high. Derek and Penelope shared a knowing look. Emily eyed them suspiciously.

‘Hey Em could you get that one for me?’

Emily raised an eyebrow at him as if to say ‘get it your damn self Action Man’ (which was literally his costume choice of the night).

When he just kept smiling at her she huffed, careful not to wake the boys, and refrained from stomping towards the door. ‘His own damn house’ she grumbled as she reached the door and plastered on a fake smile she’d run out of energy for an hour ago. But she didn’t need a fake smile. No, the beaming smile she found herself wearing as she flung the door open was very much real.

‘Jen,’ she breathed, feeling somewhat winded.

‘Trick or treat?’

Standing in the doorway was her wife, wearing a full pinstripe suit and eyeliner moustache, her long blonde locks tucked underneath a fedora.

Emily felt her mouth go dry and JJ smirked, swiftly pulling her in for a kiss.

Emily broke away, catching her breath. ‘I didn’t think -’

‘Would you believe the jet suddenly became available?’

‘Really?’

‘Flew it here myself.’

Emily shook her head with a laugh and wrapped her up into a hug.

JJ nuzzled into her neck. ‘If I’d seen you in this I would have been home hours ago,’ she whispered into her ear, making Emily lose her footing.

‘Likewise,’ she returned, before pulling back and playfully stealing her wife’s hat to sit upon her own head. As she did, blonde hair was set free, somewhat breaking the illusion.

JJ cringed. ‘Didn’t really have time to do my hair as well.’

‘Not a problem,’ Emily replied as she took in the sight of her wife. JJ did the same.

‘How come everything suits you?’ JJ shook her head, just a hint of annoyance.

Emily winked and threw a glance behind them. Derek and Penelope quickly turned away, pretending to not have been listening in to the entire exchange. Emily rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

‘Ready for the chaos?’ she asked.

JJ took a deep breath, steeling herself, but couldn’t help the look of sheer affection that won out. ‘Absolutely.’

‘Boys!’ Emily yelled at full volume, making Penelope all but fall off the couch, Sergio clinging to her tights. ‘You’ve got a request for your dance! Word must have really gotten out!’

Spencer had wanted them to do the periodic table song as their bit. After tripping over the first two elements it was swiftly scrapped, being replaced by the classic Adams family song. Henry and Michael had made up their own dance routine to go along with it, which Emily and JJ had been taught, and made to practice for the better part of two weeks. This was after they said no to their idea of a display similar to the one in the film, which included buckets of fake blood and decapitated fake limbs, as well as the dance with swords. Well, maybe one of them had said no.

The four of them made their way round the last few houses that still had their lights on, reveling in the feeling of finally being together. Emily and JJ walked either side of Michael, swinging him by the arms while Henry ran ahead. They knew how important it was to cherish this time; he would be a teenager before they knew it. They both shared a knowing look when Henry turned around to shout his pick for the film they’d watch when they got back. Michael protested, shouting his own pick, and they thanked the universe for assuring them in that moment that not yet.

They were cuddled up together on the couch, boys carried to bed an hour ago after crashing from their second sugar high. Thank god, JJ had whispered over the top of her youngest son’s head, and through a mouthful of Cheetos.

They’d put on the latest horror film of the year, which they always saved for this night. JJ knew the genre was something of a comfort for Emily. She knew by now the reason stemmed deeper than the one Emily had first given her: who doesn’t want a hot blonde cuddled into her shoulder for protection? Not long into their relationship, after countless nights of talking and letting each other in, she’d gotten the real reason out of her: that it represented a time that belonged to her, where she wasn’t having to please other people, and wasn’t forced to put on a mask, so to speak. Still, JJ couldn’t resist the charming eye waggle her wife gave her every year.

JJ’s favourite Halloween film was Practical Magic. The first time they’d watched it together Emily had spent the majority of the film stating how Sally was clearly gay and how horrifyingly heteronormative it all was. JJ was a smart, bisexual woman and she didn’t disagree with the critique. And yet Emily couldn’t complain whenever JJ asked if they could watch it; she would never question JJ’s love of a film about sisters. If she was honest she was glad JJ felt comfortable enough to watch something of the sort with her. The next morning when Emily made cactus shaped pancakes, JJ wondered how it was possible to fall even more in love with her. And how thankful she was that someone as impossible as Emily Prentiss did in fact exist.

‘So,’ Emily let out a breath, twirling long strands of her wife’s hair around her finger, ‘This the best outfit I’ve ever worn?’

JJ leaned her head back to meet her eyes, and narrowed her own as if in deep thought.

‘Hmmm, I don’t know, Velma really had it going on.’

Emily gasped and shoved her playfully, which reminding her of the first Halloween they’d spent together - except there was no need for her to hold anything back now. Not here, on their couch, in their home, with their boys upstairs, sleeping off a sugar high soundly.

‘Huh.’ Emily was now the one looking quizzical. She looked down at her dress. ‘Well maybe I should just take it off?’

She arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and JJ didn’t waste a second before leaping on top of her. ‘You should definitely take those nails off,’ the words were muffled into Emily’s neck, and earned a hearty laugh. After a deep kiss JJ pulled back to watch brown eyes flutter open slowly.

‘You bewitch me Emily Prentiss.’ she proclaimed, words that weren’t her own, but every bit true.

It was that night that Emily thought maybe Halloween was a family holiday after all.

#jemily #criminal minds #Jennifer Jareau #emily prentiss #so the pandemic has finally forced me into this #anyway please your comments are very welcome!#mine

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2bored2care · 4 years

Text

Noona || Ateez

↳ About — After months without seeing each other, you and Ateez decide to have a fun night out in a hip nightclub in Hongdae. A sudden argument cuts your celebrations short, but a late night visit promises to get your mood up again.

↳ Pairing — ? x reader

↳ Genre — idol!ateez, producer!reader, friends to lovers, smut, fluff, slight angst, noona!reader

↳ Word count — 16k+

↳ Rating — M/+18

�� Warnings — None, but it's mature content. Be aware that the main character is older than the boys. Secret pairing (revealed during the story!)

↳ Cross-post — AO3

Author’s Note: this originally had an OC, but I changed it to be reader insert. Still, there are some descriptions of the main character. Wasn't proofread. Might have a continuation but works just fine as a oneshot! This was my first time writing mature content (and my first writing piece in god knows how long) so bear with me hehe Any feedback is always appreaciated!

Some days are easier than others. Today was definitely on the bad side, that's why a night out with friends seemed like the best idea to cool off. After countless stressful meetings at work, including passionate discussions with coworkers and complications with important clients, you couldn't wait to get home, take a nice shower and spend a few hours invested in a hot look for the night.

You see, it's not every night that your eight best friends are available for some fun, much less including a nice pajama party with lots of wine, soju and bad TV shows. There's good and bad in being friends with an idol group, although the bad likes to manifest more often than not. Ateez's maknae didn't exactly celebrate his definite passage to adulthood properly - that is, didn't get wasted like there's no tomorrow and make bad decisions at some stinky club at the hip side of town - thanks to their schedule, so imagine your surprise when you received a very excited call during your shitty afternoon.

Jongho had called you to make sure you had no plans for the night and share interesting news: they had the weekend off and a nice VIP section in one of the best spots in Hongdae. Lots of free drinks, good music and, the best of all, no curfew. That, of course, came with one small price, that only seemed good to you in the end. All eight boys needed to sleep over yours. Something common when you had late nights, since some crazy fans - better yet, sasaengs - loved camping at their dorm door, and news of all of them coming home stupidly drunk at who knows what hours was terrible publicity.

That call came at the best time possible; a way to brighten your cloudy day. After talking to him and the loud boys screaming at the back, your little free time during the day was spent planning your outfit, makeup and hair. Everyone needs some me-time at times. You definitely needed it today, no doubt. That's why you decided to clock out a little earlier and ran home as soon as you could. The boys were excited, but not nearly as excited as you. It felt like years since you all had enough time to actually share a conversation - their overseas tour left you a little needy and missing them a bit too much.

Living in South Korea and working with entertainment left you with very little friends, and ever since you started getting close to the idol group, that list got even smaller. Imagine the horror if the world knew any of them was hanging around with a woman - a foreigner, no less! If their fans knew they ever slept at your house, all hell would be loose. But you wouldn't change it for the world, no matter how many times the boys apologized or needed to cancel on you. You loved them all too much nonetheless, always a soft heart, even with your permanent resting bitch face.

Only a few people in your life knew of such friendship, including your closest friends back at home. They were huge fans of the group, but would never tell a soul of your closeness. That's why the boys were fond of them, they knew they would be there for you, always. Although they never met, the plan was still there! You intended to visit home when the boys would perform in your home country, so to make sure the crazy encounter would happen - your friends might've forced you to pinky-promise to introduce them, not that you'd hold it against them anyway.

After months without being able to see the group, you decided to go all the way with your look for the night. It was a special occasion, after all! Heading home, you had a close idea of what you were shooting for, knowing that you'd need to let loose soon or you'd burst.

Even if some would think being around such handsome men would be bad for your already fucked up self esteem, their effect was the opposite. They made you feel alive and noticed. No matter where you were, you were sure that you were accompanied by the hottest guys in the room. And, even in a platonic way, you knew you were the one they were spending the whole night with. Not just that, but it gave you a nice excuse to get dressed up properly, since you had to measure up!

All you could think about was the beautiful - and sinful - little dress you'd bought weeks prior. The velvet piece caught your attention while you were walking in a busy street. You weren't one to buy dresses, that's for sure, but you were also looking for a change and that dress meant just that. With the burgundy piece in mind, you started to finish planning your look while riding the subway home. The club wasn't far from your apartment complex - Seul was a small city compared to your not-so-missed hometown - so you had more than enough time to get your game face on.

At home, you rushed to take a well-deserved hot shower, getting your hair a little humid so you could model it however you wanted. The long locks fell over your shoulder to your waist, a mix of platinum blond, gray and dark pink. You had just changed it - something common for you - and were happy it looked as good as you hoped when you did it late at night last Saturday. With some mood making music on, you were ready to get started.

You curled your hair in a 50's fashion, one of your favorite looks, and pushed it back to get your makeup done. Always a sucker for autumn colors, you did your eyes with a smoky brownish red and orange palette, finishing it with a long cat-eye, your trademark. You did your skin next, making sure to put some rose-colored blush on your cheeks, as if you maybe had a drink or two before leaving. Some highlighter to finish it nicely, and a gradient for your lips. Dark red on the inside, blending with a light brown nude matte lipstick you loved wearing. 24 hours effect, of course. You planned on drinking as much as you could and your makeup needed to still be there once the night was over!

When you were satisfied with your makeup, you took your fishnets tights and the burgundy velvet dress, heading to get dressed. The dress hugged your curves perfectly - and you were very proud of them, of course, knowing that all that time you spent working out wasn't for nothing. The barely-there straps fell into a beautiful, plunged neckline, showing just enough cleavage. The dress ended mid-thigh, letting your tattoo be seen. It had a V-shaped cut on the back, ending in a zipper that went until almost the hem of the dress. It showed your back tattoo beautifully, the color complementing the cherry blossom art. It was perfect, simple as that. With the nude fishnets with tiny strass rocks, a matching velvet choker with golden details and your black high heeled boots, it was the best look you wore all year, and it only got you more excited for what was to come - you felt like you could do anything.

You texted your group chat, knowing it was almost time to leave. The boys told you your name was on the list and they were already heading that way. You took one last look in the mirror, adjusting your cleavage and messing your hair a bit. After preparing the house for your late night guests, you took your dark blue jean jacket, your black clutch and had a shot of soju to get started.

Once you got out of the elevator, Hongjoong texted you to let you know they were already there and settled. Your stomach was flipping from how excited you were. The thought of a great night had you with a smile stuck on your face. Your taxi arrived while you were writing back, so you just said you'd be there in five and got in the car.

Inside the fairly packed club, you went to the back and talked to the bouncer to be let into the secluded VIP area. You could see the boys sitting at a sofa with three tables, up the stairs, looking every bit as handsome as you could remember, if not more. God really had His favorites and all eight of those boys made the list. It was unfair how they looked effortlessly beautiful, as if they owned the place - and if they told anyone that, no one would even doubt it. It just served as a reminder that they really belonged in the public eye. It'd be a waste if they did anything else - not to mention how talented they are, of course.

Hongjoong was the first to catch your attention. His bright blue hair contrasted perfectly with his all black look. He wore black dress shoes, combined with dress pants and a half-buttoned black dress shirt. The sleeves were rolled up, turning the fancy outfit into a great choice for a fancy club. His hair was pushed back, and his earrings shone in the low, reddish light of the space. To top it off, he wore a gold chain and a leather choker. His light makeup, a mix between his stage aura and his street looks, complemented his look incredibly well.

To his left, Mingi sat, relaxing back into the leather sofa with a drink in hand. His a-bit-too-long blonde fringe was tossed to the side, with hairspray making sure it wouldn't fall in his eyes. Also wearing all black, he sported a tight turtleneck, showing his slim body well. With a suit jacket clashing with his black, ripped skinny jeans and dress shoes, he looked like he belonged in a runaway. He laughed at something the eldest said, pulling a bit at his collar.

Seonghwa was laughing and kept talking, inclined to the front. His tye-dye blue button-up had at least five buttons unbuttoned, showing a little of his toned chest - he seemed to have gained a nice bronze hue while on tour. He wore light jeans and casual shoes. His hair was also parted to the side, still sporting silver highlights. His earrings dangled as he laughed, and his rings drew attention to his elegant hands.

Yeosang sat at Hongjoong's right side, seeming preoccupied with his phone while his hyungs conversed. His blonde mullet was partially covered by a red beanie. He wore a jean jacket with black, ripped pants. They had something written in black and red letters, clearly a designer piece. Beneath his jacket was a white, printed shirt. His pants ended in a simple, dark blue sneaker. Although he sported a loose demeanor, his face showed he was a bit anxious. It had been a long time since they went out at home, and it seemed like he would take a bit longer to really relax.

Jongho was at his side, trying to get his attention. His bright, copper hair fit perfectly with the club environment. His feet were moving to the beat of whatever song was on, his dress shoes shining every now and then under the high table. He wore a simple, black shirt, complemented by black, ripped, skinny jeans. They seemed to be the groups' favorite clothing item lately. Over it all, he wore a velvet, mustard jacket. It matched his hair and skin tone just right, and he didn't look as much like the cute maknae anymore.

Seonghwa turned to Yunho, who seemed focused on trying to understand what they were talking about. As soon as the eldest talked to him, he opened a big smile, closing his eyes and tossing his head back in a heartfelt laugh. His simple, golden necklace was shaking along with his chest while he tried to calm down. His white, low cut shirt showed his collarbones, his skin also golden after the time abroad. Over it he wore a black leather jacket, with small details on the sleeves and on the shoulders. He was wearing black, bomber pants, with big pockets on both sides and a small chain on the right side. His black and white dancing sneakers were also being beat along with the music, and he never looked so relaxed. He's light, pink hair was a bit messy, probably suffering from the amount of times he ran his hand over it, pushing it back - the same gesture he was repeating now, making his grandpa's ring appear in the low light.

San was standing up, facing the crowd downstairs while leaning on the balcony and moving his hips slightly to the music, like the movement came naturally to him - which seemed to be the utmost truth. His light look seemed to contrast with the rest of the group. While everyone seemed to rely on black for at least a piece or two, he wore a cream, dress shirt, unbuttoned in the same pattern as the others. He paired it with highwaisted, almost white jeans and white sneakers. His blonde, ash hair was a little longer, and fell perfectly over his face while he looked around. His gold earrings matched with his bracelets and chain, and no matter how shinning the objects were, they couldn't stand a chance over his chilled smirk; lips moving slowly, mouthing the lyrics to the song being blasted at the moment.

While he was distracted, Wooyoung came up to him with two shots of soju, scaring his groupmate in a friendly way. They laughed together, and Wooyoung tossed his dark brown hair back, before taking the shot. He licked his lips and smiled, saying something you couldn't understand from where you were standing. He also wore long earrings, matching with a few leather bracelets. He sported a light blue jean ensemble, but his jacket looked long forgotten on the sofa. His white shirt clinged to his body perfectly, and the rolled sleeves over his shoulder highlight his arms - he clearly had been working out. His black, leather belt was the only dark item he wore. The white converse sneakers seemed to be brand new, shining with a light red tone thanks to the lighting of the area. He looked around, as if searching, and his eyes landed on you, on the bottom of the stairs, trying to get the bouncer's attention. Although you couldn't exactly hear him, you could see clearly what he mouthed, while smirking.

"Noona!"

You looked at him and laughed, pointing at the bouncer and making a mock annoyed face. He didn't say anything, just smiled back and started to walk slowly towards you. He seemed to eye you up and down, trying to figure out what you were wearing and failing - you were surrounded by a few people and the bouncer covered you almost completely.

"Excuse me! Hi!" you said, flashing a friendly smile. "My name is on the list, I'm-"

"With us," before you could finish, Wooyoung butted in, finally reaching you. "You can let her in."

The bouncer only nodded and stepped aside, letting you through to the VIP area. You took a few steps but were stopped by Wooyoung, who then took two back to look at you in the dim, mock corridor light.

"Fuck, noona, this is definetly new," he smirked. "You look amazing."

"Look at you, swearing like this!" you laughed, slapping him lightly on the shoulder and smirking back. "I'd twirl for you, baby, but I don't wanna have to do it twice, so you'll have to wait just a bit."

"Why not just for me? I thought I was special," he joked.

"You are, but I'm also too anxious to see all of you to waste time under the stairs."

"You hurt me like this!"

"Come on, now. I need to see how everyone will react to this look. It took me long to look this good!"

"I missed you too much, you know?" he laughed and hugged you.

He pulled you by the hand, heading upstairs towards their booth. The anticipation of seeing all of them again made you nervous and excited at the same time; your stomach turning. You could see their confused looks when Wooyoung climbed the stairs turning to realization when they saw he was bringing someone along. It seemed to take them a beat to recognize you - the last time you saw each other was a messy sleepover that probably ruined your reputation with them forever, and the same the other way around.

San took a step closer, saying your name happily and coming in for a hug. You gladly held him back, smiling back at him. Once he let you go he mimicked Wooyoung's action from a moment before, stepping back and looking at what you were wearing. All the boys called for you and you laughed, joyous to be with them again after so long.

"How's our late-birthday boy tonight?" you said, smiling at Jongho.

"Pumped to start celebrating!" he smiled back.

"You look great, noona!" Hongjoong added, smiling fondly at you.

"My, my! Thank you, Hongie. You guys look amazing, as always! It must be exhausting to look so good all the time," they laughed, a few standing up to come and hug you. "Before you mess my outfit hugging the life out of me, I promised Woo a twirl."

"The runaway is yours," Mingi joked.

"Oh well, if it is, I'll make it count."-you tossed your hair back, placing your clutch on one of the tables.

Taking a step back, almost leaning on the balcony, you took your jacket off. The dress looked even better with the red and blue light shining over it, and your fishnets were glowing perfectly with the rocks reflecting the light. You tossed your jacket playfully at San, who just smirked and placed it on the sofa, next to Wooyoung's. You twirled slowly, making a few poses and putting your hair to the side, falling over your front, on the left.

You started to walk towards them, swaying your hips and smiling; certainly enjoying the playful atmosphere. With a final 180 turn, showing your back tattoo and looking back, you finally head towards the sofa, hiding your face with an embarrassed smile while the boys laughed and clapped at you.

"God, I missed you all so, so much," you laughed, trying to look at all of them and take them in.

"We missed you too," Yeosang answered, smiling softly. "And now we can start this party."

"Of course! Thanks for waiting for me."

"It's not like we had to wait for long. And we did get a head start on the drinking part, so you should try and match us, noona!" Seonghwa said while pouring you two shots of soju.

"Can you guys stop calling me that?" you groaned. "I'm only two years older than you, Hwa! You make me feel like a grandma when you keep calling me 'noona'. I have a name and you're more than welcome to use it."

"The more you get mad about it, the more we're gonna use it and you know it," Yunho said, laughing while he looked at his phone.

"Okay! Rule one of the night, created specially because of Yeosang and Yunho!"-both of them looked at you the second you mentioned their names-"Cellphones on the table! Come on, guys. I haven't seen you in forever and we're celebrating tonight. Together! Let's forget about the whole virtual world for a while now, okay?"

"Now you sound like a grandma," Yeosang said back, but he let go of his phone anyway, a small smile betraying him.

"Yunho?" you said, expectantly.

"Fine, fine. You're right. Let's get this started."

"Yay!" you cheered. "You've made me happier already. Now let's start drinking!"

You tossed back both soju shots, smiling devilish while pouring two more. After finishing filling up your cups, you served everyone else, two bottles gone in a blink. Before you knew it, you were on your fifth round, and switching to fancy cocktails you had a hard time pronouncing. It was always clear that you handled alcohol better than most of them, so you passed their number in no time.

"Who wants to dance?" Wooyoung said, getting up and interrupting the small talk going around the booth. When nobody answered, he pouted. Just then, a reggaeton song came up.

"Oh, god! Me! I love this song," you replied, smiling and getting up, already dancing playfully. "Who'll join us? It's terrible to be the only ones dancing in this section!"

When silence took place again, you and Wooyoung exchanged looks and started pulling the boys, one by one, up. Some playfully tried to sit again, but you two were keen on getting everyone on the dance floor on the upstairs area, hoping it would help the group loosen up.

"You're almost taller than me today, if feels weird," Hongjoong said, laughing.

"Oh, stop." you said, smiling softly at him. "Don't tease me or I'll wear the 6 inch heels next time!"

"It feels like ages since I last danced like this," he said, a few moments later, holding your hands and dancing terribly on purpose.

"There's no better way to dance," you answered, matching his steps.

"I can think of a lot of ways that are better than this mess!" Seonghwa laughed.

"But you wouldn't want it any other way, right?" you clapped back, smiling. "Me neither."

A strong hip hop song came on, and you, Mingi and Yunho shared wide grins, already going to the middle of the semi circle your group had formed. The beat was dropping heavily, and Mingi was the first one to start dancing to it, strong steps, smooth body rolls and a lot of teasing. Yunho soon followed, twerking intensely while Mingi started to do the same. They were laughing too hard, and the rest of the boys seemed to be having a great time just watching. You walked up to the two boys, holding Mingi's left shoulder and Yunho's right one, starting to sway your hips to the intense beats. Soon you were twerking to it, and the boys playfully clapped, starting to drop to the music, soon coming up again and crowding you.

You couldn't help but laugh at the mess your group was. Yunho started twerking again, this time pulling you to do the same. When he started to go down again, you pointed accusingly at him while the rest of the boys cheered him and Mingi on.

"It's not fair!" you said, pouting. "This dress doesn't let me do that and you know it."

"Come on, noona," Mingi said, pulling you and trying to make you follow his moves. "Show him what you got!"

Laughing, you pushed him back and started to swirl your hips, gradually going down until your hands almost touched the floor. There, you ran your hands through your hair, pushing its length up while looking up at the boys, grinning. You did a 180 turn and got up, pushing your bottom back and throwing your hair to your left side, looking back at Mingi's and Yunho's faces as they cheered for you. As a final touch, you slapped your right hip playfully, winking at them.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Jongho said, laughing. "Now it's a party."

You pulled the youngest to the space Yunho and Mingi were occupying moments before, dancing happily with him while a hype song came on. He blushed a soft pink when you and Yeosang started to dance around him. It wasn't long before the rest of the group started doing the same, some holding cups, drinking and laughing at his reaction.

The nine of you seemed to dance forever before sitting down again, looking at the other few booths on the VIP section. You couldn't recognize anyone there, but you knew that they had money or were influential in a way. You always enjoyed going to that club with the boys, knowing you could trust the space and the staff not to say a thing about their visits. They always seemed more comfortable there, and that was more than enough reason for turning it into your meeting spot.

Mingi got up to order another round of cocktails for the table, as well as some appetizers. Some of the boys were starting to get tipsy, and looking adorable with pinkish cheeks and relaxed smiles. You weren't sure of much, especially during your time working abroad, but you were sure of one thing: you absolutely adored them. Just seeing them happy and loosening up was more than enough to get your mood better, already forgetting about the nasty day you had at work.

"I love you guys," you said, smiling.

"Are you getting drunk, noona?" Jongho said, laughing. The rest of the boys soon followed.

"Of course not! Don't forget I'm always the only sober one at the end of the night when we drink together!" you huffed, faking an annoyed look. "I just… Really miss you guys sometimes. You know I'm too soft for my own good."

"All jokes aside, we love you too. Now don't get all soft and mushy, we still have a long way to go tonight! It's not even 1am yet," Hongjoong laughed and hugged you, pulling you close on the sofa.

"I know, I know. Where's Mingi with the drinks anyway?"

"Someone missing me already?" Mingi said, sitting on your right side.

"More like missing the drinks you went to get."-everyone laughed at your answer, while Mingi fake pouted.-"What are your plans for the night, by the way?"

"What do you mean?" Yeosang asked.

"Well, you know my apartment is ready for you guys either way, but I can see some girls in other booths looking over every now and then. So, are you planning on meeting someone tonight or just chilling?"

"Noona!" Jongho said, mock scandalized. "We're not here for that."

"What? It doesn't hurt to ask! I just don't wanna be surprised like before, you know?" you said teasingly, looking at San. "When a certain someone met a girl at the bathroom line and disappeared for an hour while we were planning on heading out."

"You can't blame me!" San said.

"Never! But it's good to be prepared, so we don't end up asking the bouncers for help again."

"We're not leaving anyone behind tonight, we're just here to chill and celebrate," Hongjoong said.

"Alright, alright! Don't beat me for asking," you laughed, and everyone got quiet for a beat too long, using their glasses as a distraction.

"What about you?" Yunho said.

"What about me?" you asked, confused.

"What's your plan?"

"My plan is to have the best night ever with my boys, of course!" you laughed. "Why'd you ask? No one's ever flirted with me when I was with you, guys. I bet people think we're in a crazy, kinky relationship or something."-all the boys laughed at that, looking at the scandalized waiter that came with your drinks as you said that.-"Oh, god. I'm sorry!"

"You turned a few heads tonight, noona. Maybe you should open your eyes before saying no one'll flirt with you," Wooyoung said, smirking again.

"When? Where? Show me!" you joked. "It's been ages since I flirted, might as well get back in the game tonight."

"There's a guy on the booth to your left that's been looking at you since we danced," San added.

You looked around, finding a few guys sitting next to you. One of them caught your attention. He had black hair, a lip ring and a tattoo sleeve. He seemed to be really tall, considering he filled the sofa with his long legs, clad in skinny ripped and stained jeans. His large shirt was tucked into the front of his jeans, and the collar fell off his shoulder, revealing a bit of his chest tattoo. He seemed a bit older than you, around 25 years old, maybe.

He looked exciting. You were definitely interested. And as he returned your gaze, you could see that so was he.

"I think I'm in love," you half joked.

"Noona!" Jongho said, laughing and drinking a bit more, looking clearly tipsy.

"Woo, baby," you said, looking at him. "Won't you dance with me again, seriously this time?"

"Why him?" Yunho butted in.

"We all know that Woo has no limits, and neither do I," you laughed. "He won't mind playing around a bit to help me see if I can really catch that guy's attention."

"Noona," Wooyoung smirked, "of course I'll be your partner in crime. Just be careful not to change your target after it."

"You're too full of yourself sometimes," you said, smirking back. "I love it."

Wooyoung laughed and got up, offering you his hand while one of The Weeknd's hits started to play. You gladly took his hand, getting up slowly and turning towards the table, sending a smile to the guys one last time before heading close to the balcony with him - a great spot to put on a show for your crush for the night.

Maybe it was the alcohol rushing through your veins, or the thrill of having someone's attention, but you knew you were treading dangerous waters, with no life jacket, and were loving every tiny second of it. As you and Wooyoung started to get closer, you could feel heat rushing to your cheeks. At the same time, "Try Me" was being blasted through the club's speakers, fueling your resolution.

You weren't a great dancer compared to the group of performers, but you knew very well how to move your body to sensuous beats. And that's what you did. As Wooyoung took a step back, you started rocking towards him, moving your hips slowly, fitting the song as perfectly as you could while balancing on your huge heels - your pride and joy, being able to walk on them so gracefully.

He looked at you with a challenging gaze, a slow smirk showing on his handsome face. If you didn't value their friendship so much, you knew all of those boys would be huge trouble in your life. And since you and Wooyoung played this game more often than not, you knew that he and San would ruin your every resolution if you let them.

Once you got close enough to him, chest to chest, he started moving his hips in sync with yours. Slowly going down and coming back, coming too close to your face. So close you could feel his breath tickling your cheek. You smiled at him, whispering a "nice" in his ear. You then turned around, pressing your back to his front and placing his hands on your hips. You started moving again, slowly, feeling the beat rushing through you. He held your hips a bit tighter, closer.

You pushed back just a little bit, earning a hiss and a small laugh from him. Every movement he made seemed to fuel yours, becoming more and more certain, as if you were starting to lose yourselves to the music and it's sensual atmosphere. He moved one of his hands up your arms, a touch barely there, and held onto your shoulders, stopping the movement of his hips so he could mold himself into yours. You melted into the rhythm and kept dancing until the song ended.

"You're dangerous tonight," he said after you stopped dancing.

"So are you, Woo," you whispered back. "You shouldn't go around playing games you can't finish."

When he was about to answer, Yunho interrupted you two, leaning on the balcony.

"You seem keen on getting that guy's attention," he said, nonchalantly.

"Some attention is never bad," you answered, looking at him.

"He was paying attention, alright."-he stepped closer, while Wooyoung excused himself, saying he'd get another drink.-"Dance with me next."

"What? You think dancing with another guy is a good idea?"

"Well, if you only dance with Wooyoung, he'll think you're together."-you hit yourself on the forehead lightly, mouthing an "of course".

"I don't see why not. We're here to have fun, right?" you said, but a bit unsure.

"If attention is all you want, I can help you just fine."

"Alright! Let's do this," you said, rushing to the table to down another shot and running back in his direction.

On the corner of your eye, you could see the guy sitting there, looking at you as if trying to figure out what was going on. He was wearing a firing smirk, laid back on the sofa, curious about what you were going to do next. A surge of courage made you meet his gaze and smile softly at him. You turned back to Yunho, pulling him by the hands, and started dancing again.

Katie's "Remember" started playing, and before you could make a move, he started dancing around you, crowding your space in the best way possible. His moves were calculated, playing with you, teasing you. He started moving on his own, and you stood there, as if hypnotized by him. His eyes never left yours, and he looked like a man on a mission, starved and on his last chance to get his fill. He touched you every now and then, holding your hands, guiding them to his chest while he put his on your hips after. When he got close to your face, you held him by his shirt, pulling, a challenge written all over your face as the chorus came up.

You placed your legs around one of his, his thigh dangerously close to your sex, keeping one hand on his neck and another leading one of his to your hips. Then, you rested it on his shoulder, while his left hand hovered around your back, light touches every now and again. You started to sway your hips to the beat, small body waves connecting your chests while his breathing seemed to quicken. Yours soon followed, and for a second you even forgot what you were doing and why. Just then, you saw the mysterious guy searching for your eye. With more determination than before, you started grinding on Yunho, looking at the guy and smiling slowly. You could feel Yunho accepting every move you made, completing it with his own.

He held onto you, his hands fisting on the soft fabric of your dress, hinching the hem up a bit, showing more of your skin, only for him - since he had you almost pressed against the balcony, his huge figure covering yours. He ran one of his hands over your cheek, stopping on your neck and going to the back of your head, ready to pull you even closer, even if it felt impossible. He then turned you with that hand, passing your head under his arm and never letting go of you. As you were turning, you met eyes with the stranger again.

He started walking towards you as the song reached its end. Yunho was breathing heavily, his head resting on your shoulder and his hands still clinging you to him. That is, until your target interrupted you.

"Think you can save one of these dances for me?" he said, his voice husky and intoxicating. Yunho looked at you and then at the guy before turning and heading back to your booth, saying something to himself you couldn't quite understand.

"Depends on whether you're worth my time," you smirked at him, joking, feeling confident after dancing with your friends. "As you could see, I had very skilled partners before."

"I promise I'm more than worth your time," he said. "I'm Choi Seon, by the way. I'm 27."

"Seon… Nice to meet you," you said, relishing in how nice his name felt on your lips, although it felt like your voice had disappeared. "I'm 24."

"No name?" he laughed.

"Not just yet."-you smiled, glad he was older than you. You were tired of being called noona all night by your teasing friends.

"I'll just have to call you babe," he smirked.

"Let's dance, then, Seon?"

You didn't have to say it twice. He smiled down at you, seemingly even taller than Yunho, and pulled you in with strong, sure arms. You held onto his shoulders, starting to feel a little shy under his heated gaze. The reality of everything was starting to hit you, your confidence fading a bit. As if he could sense if, he started to move you along with him, pulling you back under his spell.

His hands traveled over your body, one pulling you even closer by your lower back while the other guided your hips, making you follow the movement of his own. You felt wild, carnal. As if you two were the only there, and everything that was left unsaid was too dangerous to be announced; prohibited thoughts rushing through your head as you let yourself go under his lead.

He spun you around, carefully touching your waist and passing his hand just under your cleavage. You were too far gone to care. You started moving with more confidence, pressing your back against him. He put your hair to your side, over your shoulder, and kissed the spot between your neck and your collarbone. You moved your head back, relishing in the feeling of his lips on your skin. You turned around again then, taking a small step back while tracing your hands from your hips, up to your waist and to the straps of your dress, finishing with a raise of your head, hands sliding through your hair, making you look just as far gone as you felt. He put his hands on your waist and pulled you close again, smiling and kissing the corner of your lips. You closed your eyes for a while, feeling the music and enjoying the trance you were in.

When you opened your eyes, you could see Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi and Yunho looking directly at you. What rushed over you was hard to place. While you felt incredibly embarrassed, a part deep inside you was turned on by the erotic, forbidden feeling of everything. This was a new, dangerous sensation, and you didn't know how to deal with it. Seon, ever so observing, seemed to have read your confusing feelings, smirking at you knowingly. The song was ending, and you didn't know if you'd ask for another one or run away. Turns out you didn't have a chance to do either, as he tilted your head so you could look into his eyes and, ever so slowly, as if teasing you, kissed you.

You couldn't remember the last time you were kissed, especially like this. He kissed you like he was savoring you, and you just melted in his arms. When his lips parted from yours, they fell into another knowing smile.

"Was it worth your time?" he said and you breathed in, not sure how to respond. Your thoughts seemed to be scrambled, so you did what you wanted and kissed him again.

This was already the wildest night you lived in a very long time, if not ever. You were doing things you never thought you would, letting yourself pretend for a night that you're the confident woman that gets who she wants, when she wants. Not the shy, terrible at romance and everything else woman you usually were. Not the one who doesn't even remember the last time she had a date, much less caught a guy's attention long enough to be approached. Way before coming to South Korea, that's for sure. After your first - and only - relationship turned out to be a complete fail, you never tried anything again. Every connection you had with men after that was fully platonic.

With that idea in mind, you let him lead you to his booth, his friends gone to the dance floor on the first floor. You looked at your friends and they smiled, some even hollering, causing your cheeks to blush a dark pink. Seon just smiled down at you, pretending he didn't notice it so you wouldn't be even more embarrassed. You were definitely grateful for that.

While you sat, he tried to start a conversation with you. You looked around the space, as if in a daze, your ears filled by the sound of your heart beating erratically in your chest. You knew your breathing was uneven, and you looked a bit disheveled after dancing so close to him. As hard as you tried to concentrate on what he was saying, your emotions were betraying you, leaving you confused and unable to focus on whatever it was he asked you. His husky laugh was what brought you back to reality.

"I lost you for a while there, didn't I?" he asked, still laughing.

"I'm sorry!"-you blushed furiously, the effect of your actions on the dance floor wearing out-"I guess I'm a bit out of it. What was it you said again?"

"I asked if you'd like a drink."

"That would be great, actually."

"What were you having?" - he asked, looking at one of the bartenders.

"Just soju is fine! I like to keep it simple."-you laughed, finally mustering the courage to look him in the eyes again.

"Seeing that you came with so many men, I'd have to disagree with that."-his comment seemed to put you out, a confused looked crossing your face.-"I'm not judging, just curious."

"We're friends, that's all..." you trailed off. "They've been working too hard for the past months, so we're celebrating a few birthdays today."

"You seem pretty close."

"They're basically my only friends here." you whispered, smiling softly.

"Have you been living here for long?"

"For almost two years, now. It's quite different from home, that's for sure."-he laughed at that, and you soon followed.

"It may be. From the way you dance… It looks like you're from a 'freer', 'looser' place."

"I see..." you said, taking a sip of your drink and trying to think of a way to keep the conversation flowing that didn't include not-so-charming comments on your origins. "I'm terrible at this, oh my god!"

"At what?" he laughed, confused.

"I can't believe I said this out loud. Okay," you said, blushing. "It's just been a long time since I've done anything like… this"-you motioned between you.

"You're cute," he smiled. "You're blushing and nervous around me, even though you kissed me and danced with me like you wanted to tear my clothes off."-he ran his hand over your arm, up to your shoulder, sending goosebumps across your skin.-"And your cheeks are burning, but you're still looking at me like you can't wait to kiss me again."

"You're cracking your head trying to read me, now?" you joked.

"You're interesting to me, that's all. Maybe we should dance more to see if you can get more comfortable."

"I don't think dancing will have that effect on me right now."

He laughed and you smiled back at him. You took the time to look over to your booth, seeing the boys deep in conversation, still drinking happily. Some looked your way every once in a while, and you started to feel a little guilty for ditching them on your first time together in months.

"Don't you wanna sit with us?" you asked Seon, looking at him expectantly. "I don't wanna spend the rest of the evening away from my friends."

"Do you think they'll be okay with it?" he asked you back, looking over to your tables.

"Of course! They're super chill,"-you smiled-"you'll see. Let's go!"

You got up and pulled Seon by his hand, walking towards your booth. All the boys stopped talking and looked up at you, perhaps wondering why you were bringing him over. Hongjoong motioned for Yeosang and Yunho to scoot over, giving you and Seon space to sit as you arrived at the table.

"Thanks, guys," you smiled down at them, sitting beside Hongjoong while Seon sat to your right. "This is Choi Seon!"

"Hi, there. Nice to meet you all."

The group nodded at him, introducing themselves one at a time.

"You seem familiar," Seon said, and you exchanged looks.

"We're no one important," San smiled.

"You're really good dancers," Seon added.

"We had a good partner," Wooyoung said, smiling at you.

"Tell me about it. I saw from up close how hard it is to keep up with her."

"Oh, please. I'm far from that," you laughed at them. "The boys are the professionally trained ones, I just used whatever advantage I had to measure up."

"You surely have lots of those," Seon smirked, running his hand over your knee and up to the hem of your dress. You slapped his hand playfully. "Do you come here often?"

"Not really," you replied. "We come here when we can, which isn't as often as I'd like."

"We're always working, so it's hard to get time out of our schedules," Mingi completed.

"I know how that feels," Seon nodded. "But I always try to come here with the guys. It's a great spot."

"We like it a lot too," you smiled at him. "I'll order us some more drinks. Four bottles of soju are okay, right?"

"Seems like a good number to keep this going," Yeosang laughed, his cheeks colored from the amount of alcohol he had already drank.

Once you got the bottles on the table, you poured shots to everyone, some mixing theirs with beer, and took yours. Seon poured you another one, and you happily drank it too, feeling the heat from the alcohol keeping you in the perfect space between sober and drunk. You could tell some of the boys were already crossing that bridge, and were glad to see them having fun.

From there on, conversation seemed to flow easily between you two, occasionally including one or two of the boys in your discussions. Seon's friends came back up and sat on their own booth, acknowledging him and your table while passing.

"I'll go talk to the guys for a bit and come back, okay?" Seon said, lips close to your ear to make sure you could hear him well enough.

"Okay, I'll be here," you smiled at him, and he took the opportunity to kiss the corner of your lips again.

Once he left, all the boys turned no-so-subtly at you.

"So, noona..." San said. "Are you going to be the one to ditch the group today? How the tables have turned!"

"Oh come on! It's not like I'll leave you guys alone!" you laughed, looking around the space.

"Not now, anyway. But by the way he's looking at you, you'll probably be leaving together real soon," Mingi chimed in, looking at Seon as he said something to his friends and laughed.

"Are you going to leave with him?" Yunho asked, looking a bit startled by the possibility.

"Guys! Stop! It's not like that..." you trailed off. "I think? Or is it? God, I definitely need to get better at this. It's been too long since I even thought about doing this."

"We're still going back to yours, right?" Hongjoong asked, looking worried.

"Of course! I'd never leave you hanging. The worst that could happen would be me giving you my keys and everything. My apartment is basically yours now, anyway."

"You can't do that!" Jongho said. "Are you seriously considering ditching?"

"I thought we would hang after, watch movies and talk, or something," Seonghwa added. "You know, continue the celebration through the weekend, like we said before."

"I don't know..."-you looked back over Seon's booth.-"Would I be a terrible person if I did it?"

"Basically." Yunho said, matter of factly.

"No!" Wooyoung said at the same time.

"Seriously, though… I'd still be back in the morning, right? We could do all that tomorrow. I'll cook you lunch like I promised."

"It wouldn't be the same..." Jongho trailed off.

"You know we can't just go back to your building and whatever," Yunho continued. "Besides, you don't even know the guy! You know what? His name?"

"I'm not looking to do a background check on him! I know enough for this," you answered.

"For this as in…?" Yeosang looked at you, trying to see if you'd finish your trail of thought.

"You know! Hooking up? I don't know how you kids call it these days," you joked, trying to lighten the mood. "I've never done this before, I don't exactly know how it works. You tell me."

"He looks like he'd drop you like nothing once he got what he wants," Seonghwa said, looking concerned. "Doesn't that bother you? Even a little?"

"So what? That's what I'd want too! You do this all the time. What's wrong with me doing it too?"

"Are you seriously this stupid?" Yunho yelled at you.

"Hyung!" Jongho called after Yunho, a look of shock crossing his face and everyone else's. "He didn't mean that."

"I guess he meant naive, noona," Yeosang said, trying to fix the situation.

"No, I meant exactly what I said, and I know you're all thinking it too," Yunho said, looking directly at you.

You were fuming by now. After drinking you knew your filter wouldn't exactly work, and you could feel the words rising up and leaving your mouth before you could think of stopping.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, huh?" you pointed at Yunho, who stared back at you with just as much anger. "You think I'm some stupid little girl, now? You think I can't handle myself? Fuck off, will ya? I can judge character just fine, and if I want to go over to his and do whatever the fuck else, you best believe I will!"

"So you're going?" Wooyoung asked, looking between you and Yunho.

"He didn't even fucking ask me yet! What's got you so angry anyway?"

"You were the one who kept babbling about this being a night for us to be all together!" Yunho answered and the boys shook their heads, agreeing with the fact, but probably not with the approach.

"I know! And it still is-"

"You were the one who kept complaining about how we were away for too long," he kept going, interrupting you. "And you were the one who even had the idea of us going over yours for the weekend."

"There's no need to get angry at me over this! I didn't even do anything yet."

"That's right, yet."-he took a deep breath, failing to stop himself from continuing.-"So what? You'll give us your keys and leave us here alone while you go to who knows where with a random guy?"

"Yunho, you should watch your tone if you don't want me to leave your fucking asses on the street," you said, looking stern and pissed off. How could he turn on you like this?

"Isn't that your intention now?"-Yunho looked like he had no intention of backing out of this argument.

"You're being so fucking childish right now. You want me to leave?"-you were practically fuming, your breathing erratic, blood pumping through your veins and wearing off the effect of your previous drinks.

"Might as well. Already got what you wanted anyway," he said, nonchalantly. You'd almost believe he didn't care if it wasn't for how hard he was staring you down.

"I hope you're stupidly drunk right now, I really do. Because this ridiculous behaviour is inexcusable."

"Noona, calm down," Seonghwa said, looking around as if he expected the guys to help him, but they remained stunned into silence.

"Me? You're telling me to calm down?" you practically screamed at him, feeling put off by how none of them even tried to defend you or intervene when Yunho was the one saying things he shouldn't. "Yunho is literally here being a slut-shaming piece of-"

"Stop!" Hongjoong exclaimed, looking around the table. Everyone returned his gaze, trying their hardest to not return yours.

"You know what? I really didn't need this tonight," you sighed, defeated. "I was so excited to go out with you guys again. I really, really missed you all a lot and-"

"Doesn't seem like it." Yunho said, almost to himself, but you certainly heard it, like he was saying it right to your face. A slap would've hurt less.

"I'm fucking tired, okay? I'm not gonna do this," you said, staring into his eyes in hopes he'd see how much he hurt you. By the way he flinched slightly, you knew he noticed it. "I had a shitty day, and I don't have to deal with this right now."

Everyone was silent, looking at you and not knowing exactly what to say. You couldn't believe how such a perfect night was ending so badly.

"I'm gonna go," you whispered. "I'm just gonna leave. You guys stay. I don't wanna be around some of you right now."

"Noona," Mingi said, reaching out to you.

"Don't you dare 'noona' me."-you pushed your arm back, already putting on your jacket and getting ready to leave.-"I'll talk to your fucking manager later, he'll figure this out for you."

You grabbed your clutch, spilling a half-drank cup of beer that was next to it on the table. You fought the urge to apologize, feeling all of your energy seep away while you took one last look at them. You didn't have anything else to say, and they seemed to feel the same way; Yunho didn't even look at you until you spoke again.

"Enjoy the rest of your night."

You didn't even bother saying goodbye to Seon. Whatever was going on between you two was over the moment the discussion started. It felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice on you, and even so, you felt extremely hot from all the pent up anger.

You knew they were looking at your retracting figure, your steps heavy as you climbed down the stairs. The bouncer let you out of the VIP area, and you sighed a small "thank you", never stopping your steps. You felt you'd try to go back if you stopped, and your pride was more important to you at that moment. You wouldn't back down. You did nothing wrong.

Still fuming and needing to cool down, you decided to walk back home, the cold night breeze very welcomed. It hit your face, moving your hair slightly. The street was still buzzing with people, some going from one bar to the other, some conversing and drinking with friends. That's how you expected your night to go, you thought, walking faster to get away from the bright city lights.

The 20-minute walk did you good, your mood getting better after you stopped duelling on it. You were completely sober by the time you reached your building, missing the comfortable buzz you had throughout the night. As you opened your door, shoes in hand, you decided to have a glass or two of wine before going to bed. You were too nervous still to just sleep, and wine always helped you relax.

You took off your jacket, hanging it neatly on your closet, and left your purse and choker in your room, phone in hand. Going straight to the kitchen next, you frowned at the state of your living room, deciding to get the bottle of wine before stressing over the messy space, already half prepared to receive your big number of guests. You took a bag of chips from the cabinet, heading to your sofa to lie down and watch some TV.

Feeling slightly uncomfortable and stuffed in the tight dress, you opened the zipper, almost fully, making sure to turn the aircon on next. Wine glass in one hand, TV remote in the other, you browsed the Netflix catalogue, searching for a foolish movie to watch - preferably one you'd seen before, since you were sure you'd just end up using it as background noise. Not finding anything worth binge-ing, you checked your phone, absentmindedly. A part of you wished one of the boys texted you, the other wanting to do it; to at least let them know you got home fine and wish them a safe ride back to theirs.

You knew you were being petty. You also knew you weren't exactly wrong, and you fought against your pride again, thinking it'd been 40 minutes since you left them alone. Would they be able to go back home? You knew their crazy fans were still camping outside their place.

"I can still tell them to come and just stay on my own in another room or something," you said to yourself. "I don't want them to get into trouble because of me."

With your mind made up, you unlocked your phone, ready to text them that they could come over if they'd like. Still, you started typing and stopped, repeating this countless times. Nothing sounded right to you. You didn't want to be cold, but also couldn't just act like nothing happened.

"I'm definitely overthinking this."

You poured yourself another glass of the white wine, the bottle getting closer to its end way earlier than you intended. The cold liquid was working wonders in their task of calming you down. You thought best to change and remove your makeup before doing anything else, maybe looking for distractions before talking to them. You knew they'd probably still be at the club, trying to figure out how to get home or what to do to not be seen. If you knew Hongjoong well - which you did - you knew he was probably contacting a manager as you drank, and it served enough to make you feel guilty once again for leaving. You felt like crying.

Determined to be the bigger person and try to save whatever was left of the night, you took your phone again and started typing. Before you could finish the message, someone rang your doorbell. Mildly distracted, you didn't pay attention to the sound. That was, until someone started pounding at your door.

"Guys?" you asked, putting your now empty glass on the table and walking towards the door. "Who's there?"

You opened the door slowly, finding a rugged looking Yunho leaning against the frame, right hand moving to knock again.

"Yunho!" you gasped, looking him over before meeting his eye. "Where are the guys? I was just about to text you all to come over!"

He looked at you, breathing heavily, not uttering a single word. You waited for him to say something, but he remained there, leaning on the door frame, staring you down.

"It was so stupid, baby. The fight was so, so stupid," you said, starting to feel nervous again. "I don't wanna fight with any of you. You owe me an apology, but god we should've never let such a stupid argument ruin our night."-he entered the apartment, taking off his shoes as you kept talking, afraid to fall into heavy silence again.-"I wouldn't have done anything with Seon, you know? It just… felt nice. To be noticed, I mean. It felt nice to be wanted."

He started moving towards you, taking slow, small strides as you kept talking, moving to close the door.

"Yunho, please… talk to me," you begged, trying to get him to say something, anything. "Just say 'sorry'. That's all I need."

He looked strong, present, in the dim light of the living room. The small rays coming from the kitchen and the TV cast perfect shadows on his face. As he got closer, you lost track of whatever you were saying. Your mind was running a million miles per hour, wondering where the rest of the boys were, what he intended to do, and why he was looking at you like he'd want nothing more than you to stop talking.

You locked the door, using the excuse to stop staring into his intense eyes. You could feel him close to your back, his breath making your hair move slightly. Before you could ask him what he was doing so close, he placed a hand on your left shoulder, turning you towards him and pressing you against the wall, his face perfectly contrasted by the lights. He looked like sin incarnated, and you felt trapped under his spell. You tried to form words, but all you could do was gape at him, your breaths coming out a little faster every second he spent close like this.

He came closer, his right hand supporting his weight while his left took your hair off your shoulders, his face coming down to meet yours. You never felt so small close to him. His lips ghosted against your cheek, moving to your right ear. Then, he took his hand off the wall and touched your face gently, moving to touch your neck, reaching the back of your neck and entangling in your hair. He kissed the space between your ear and neck, lips grazing your ear as he finally spoke.

"Noona," he breathed the word against you, sighing at the end of it.

This word had never hit you as hard as it did. His voice, everything, made it sound like the most sinful word in your vocabulary.

He sounded like he was in pain. His whole body started trembling slightly, pressing harder against you. You gasped at the raspy sound of his voice, and he moved his head back to look at you. His eyes were heavy lidded, breathing even faster now. Yours seemed to match his, and that second lasted like an eternity.

Yunho kissed you. His lips barely touching yours, as if he was scared you'd push him back once he did it. When he saw you wouldn't, he came back down for another kiss. This time, he kissed you fiercely, with such force, as if you were water and he had spent days in a desert. Your lips pressed against his, kissing him back with just as much want, if not more.

He tugged at your hair, pulling it back to tilt your head, making his access to your lips easier. You gasped, almost moaning at the sensation, your lips parting slightly. He took advantage of that, his tongue snaking into your mouth, ready to explore you. The action seemed to pull you back to reality, and you held him hard on the shoulders, whining as if you were reluctantly having to let him go. You pushed him back softly, also scared to break the moment. He grunted, as if the act hurt him physically. His hips were pressing yours against the wall, and you moved yours automatically.

"Noona," he whispered again.

"Yunho..." you sighed and pushed him once more, needing space to be able to think. "Wh- What are you doing?"

"I..." he trailed off, taking a deep breath. "Noona, please."

"Tell me what you need," you said, trying to forget about every complication this could entail. All you could think about, all you could see, was him. And, for god, was he glorious. "Talk to me, baby."

"You," he whispered against your lips, your eyes focused on his own.

"Oh my god," you sighed, moving your head to the side.

He gave you space, although not much, afraid you'd run away once he got far enough. You looked at him, then back at the living room, trying to understand what was going on. He glanced back, seeing the wine bottle. He moved to it, taking a sip directly from it.

You were frozen into place, and he took advantage of that, bringing the almost empty bottle to you and pressing it against your lips. You drank it gladly, fueled by how he stared at your lips against the rim of it. The simple gesture never seemed so erotic.

After you finished the wine, he placed the bottle on the ground and pressed against you again. When you shied away from his gaze, he touched your chin, lifting his head to make sure you could see him as well as he could see you. He smirked at you, chest heaving, and turned you around. He grunted loudly, resting his head on your shoulder as his right hand, still cold from holding the bottle, touched your semi-open zipper.

"God, noona," he said against your skin, tickling your neck. "What were you doing before I got here."

"I..." you tried and failed to form a sentence, your face pressed against the wall, your hip moving on its own only to be held by his left hand, leaving you completely at his mercy. "I was going to change, that's all."

You moved your hands to your back, closing the zipper rapidly as a blush started creeping on your cheeks. He chuckled at that, right hand forcing yours against the wall, lips kissing your cheek. He kissed down to your shoulders, lips running over your cherry blossom tattoo - his favorite.

"There's no need to close it, noona," he whispered, sensuously. "It'll end up on the floor anyway."

"Fuck, Yunho."

"Don't," he said, breathing in slowly. "Don't say my name like that."

"Or what?" you asked, holding on to the last shreds of your sanity. "Yunho."

He pressed his hips against yours, breathing in the scent of your perfume. You gasped at the sensation, starting to lose yourself to the forbidden, dangerous situation. A small whimper left your lips, and he pressed even harder against you, right hand coming up to hold you by the hair once more, turning you around slowly as his eyes fell to your cleavage.

Yunho kissed your exposed skin, climbing from your chest to your neck. He sucked hardly, making sure to mark you as his. You hissed, right hand grabbing his hips hard as you moved yours against his, losing yourself to the sensation of his lips on your skin. He blew cold air to the place he sucked on, biting it and climbing up to your lips.

This kiss felt like the final straw. You pulled him by his shirt, closer. You wanted him as close as humanly possible. No, you needed him as close as possible. You kissed him hard, your lips taking over his, guiding him. Your hands pushed his jacket back, and he let go of you briefly, just enough to let the item fall, discarded, to the floor. You ran your hands through his hair, and he took the opportunity to pull on yours once more, holding the back of your neck just tight enough to make you moan against his lips again. He pulled your right leg up, moving harder against you.

He pressed his hips hardly against yours, and you could feel him harden, moving like he couldn't wait a second more to have you. You felt that, if you let him, he would take you right there. Hard and rough against your living room wall. Close enough to the door that you'd need to be quiet in order to not let your neighbors overhear. Just the thought of him doing so was enough to get you wet, your thighs pressing close, needing the friction.

You stopped the kiss, whispering his name as sweetly as you could, pushing him back just so you could pull him by the hand, moving towards your couch. You pushed him on it, waiting for him to settle, sitting, before climbing on his lap.

"Noona," he whispered. "What are you doing to me?"

"I could ask you the same thing," you said, smirking against his lips before kissing him again.

You placed your legs around his hips, your dress riding up your thigh, exposing your underwear. He stopped kissing you to look down, taking in the image of you completely gone over his lap, grinding down on him slowly, teasing the both of you. His hands pulled your dress higher, moving to your waist and squeezing you hard. You moaned, grinding hard on him as you went for another kiss. It felt like you spent ages just kissing, touching each other as well as you could, pressing him on the sofa as you did so.

You forced your hips down, feeling his erection against your core. It felt so crude, so raw, and oh, so big, you couldn't help but moan his name once more. He moved his hips up to meet yours, hands ripping your tights hardly as you fisted his shirt, annoyed at how the fabric was standing between you two. The sound of them ripping filled the room, your breath quickening at the action.

"Take this off," you said, commandly. "Now."

You didn't need to say it once more. He pushed you back, just enough to have space to pull the fabric off, slowly revealing his chest. You looked at him like you were starved, and he returned the gaze. His chest was glistening with sweat, and you had never seen something so beautiful. Yunho panting, looking at you, shirtless, was the sexiest scene you ever had the pleasure to witness.

"I can't wait anymore," you said, almost to yourself, as you stood up.

You pushed him back as he tried to follow, fixing your dress once again. He looked at you, confused, but his expression soon turned to one of pleasure, as you ran your hands up his thighs, getting closer and closer to his erection. You smirked at him, teasingly, and pulled him up by the belt, guiding him to your room. You were never so thankful for having a king sized bed.

He looked at you expectantly, seemingly enjoying this game of dominance you two were playing. You pushed him back on your bed, sitting on the edge of it. He tried to kiss you again, but you cut the kiss short, pushing on his chest as you started to go down on his body. He sucked in a breath just at the thought of what you were going to do.

"Noona, you have no idea of how many times I dreamed of your lips on me," he confessed, hand ruining his hair even more.

"I hope I measure up," you smirked at him, hands sliding against his legs once more. "I've dreamt about this too. Way too much."

Your hands passed over his body, coming to his pants and slowly opening the button. You climbed against his body, kissing his chest and going down, grabbing the zipper between your teeth. You looked up at him, seeing the anticipation and lust in his eyes. They made you want to do so much more, and you relished on the feeling, bringing the zipper down as painfully slow as you could. As soon as your teeth grazed his erection, he pushed his hips up, hissing. He laid back on his elbows, eyes staring at you, consuming your every move.

You finally pulled his pants down, the sight of his erection straining against his underwear more than enough to get your mouth watering. You knew there was no turning back; might as well enjoy it to the fullest. You kissed his hips, sucking softly on his skin, feeling his hands coming to touch you, before moving to his hair once more. You kissed him through the fabric and he held his breath, closing his eyes and tossing his head back.

Pulling his underwear down, you stared him in the eye, turned on by his blown out pupils. You were more than glad to see he was just as far gone as you were. There was something empowering about seeing him completely naked while you were still clothed, and you intended on taking advantage of that feeling.

"You look so beautiful," he whispered, almost to himself.

"Not as much as you," you answered, smiling. "You're a work of art."

You passed your hands up his thighs again, kissing him everywhere but where he needed you the most. His chest was heaving, his breathing shallow, eyes anticipating your every move. It was intoxicating, seeing him losing his cool over your small actions. You wrapped your hand around his erection, turned on by the curses coming out of his mouth.

Ever so slowly, you moved your lips next to his shaft, kissing his skin while moving your hand. His hand held onto your hair, pulling just enough to get you to lose it. You kissed his tip, lips enveloping him as you took your time savoring him, going down slowly until he was fully inside your mouth. The sound he let out then was wild, carnal, and you moaned against him.

He pushed his hips up slightly, as if begging you to do something, anything. You couldn't help but comply, lips going up and down on him, pace quickening. He kept moving his hips and pulling your hair, trying to meet your movements with his own.

"Fuck, noona," he cried out. "You're ruining me."

You kept going, boosted by the noises he was making, deep throating him as you felt his whole body tense under your ministrations. He was panting, desperate, and you didn't stop until you felt he was on the edge, lips popping off him; a string of saliva still connecting your bodies.

"That's my intention."

He pulled you up by the back of your neck, hands trying to touch you everywhere at once. He kissed you hard. Pressing against you, standing up once more, he ran his right hand over your back, opening your dress again. This time, he kissed your shoulders while lowering the straps, hands pushing the fabric down until you were standing in front of him wearing nothing but ruined tights and red lace panties.

Spinning you around, he could see just how small the piece was, your ass on full display for him. Just for him. He called your name at that, the first time he mentioned it the whole night. Somehow, you missed how sinful the word "noona" sounded coming out of his lips. You were almost embarrassed by how the thought of it got you even more turned on; your body betraying you as another rush of arousal left you on edge.

"Ca- call me..." you whispered. "Noona. Just that."

"I knew you liked it," he smirked, you could feel it against your back. "Noona."

He spun you around again, this time pushing you against the bed.

"You look good enough to eat, noona."

He ripped the tights even more, want taking over him. He kissed you again, pulling you by the neck close to him. You ran your hand over his back, nails scraping his skin, making him hiss against your lips. He kissed you even harder, right hand grabbing your waist and holding it hard enough to bruise. His left hand guided your hips against his erection while he pressed it to your core. You moaned his name, desire clouding your mind as you called him once more.

"Yunho, please," you pleaded, hoping he'd put an end to your suffering. "I can't take this anymore."

He got on his knees, looking directly at your core as you blushed, trying to close your legs and hide from him.

"Don't. You don't need to hide from me, noona," he said, looking into your eyes before letting his roam over your body once more. "You're too fucking beautiful."

"Yunho..." you moaned his name.

"I want to remember every moment tomorrow, noona," he kissed your stomach, looking shy. "I hope you do too."

Before you could respond, he ran his hand over your panties, teasing your clothed core. You started writhing, every nerve ending sensitive thanks to his previous actions. You felt like you couldn't take it anymore, his teasing only making you need him more. You started begging, unashamed, for him to really touch you, for him to do anything.

He started kissing down your body, going from your jaw to your collarbone; marking you. His lips hovered over one of your nipples and you lost your breath, right hand sinking into his hair as you moaned. He kissed it slowly, repeating the action on the other one. He started moving his tongue around it, blowing cold air every now and then. The other wasn't left unattended, being toyed with when he ran his hand over your chest; fingers pressing on it. You were writhing beneath him, unable to form a coherent sentence as he ravaged your body.

Once he saw you were losing control, he let go of your nipples, giving each a small peck before kissing down your stomach, stopping at your navel. You hissed, whispering his name as he looked up at you, smirking. He moved to your waist, kissing each side before falling to your hips, repeating the sucking motion you'd done on his moments before. His teeth scraped against whatever was left of your fishnets and you fisted the sheets, closing your eyes, chest heaving. He pulled at the strings, relishing in your instant reactions. He was eating up every movement, every noise, every whimper; everything you gave him.

His hands were touching your stomach and coming down to your thighs, his light touch heighting his teasing. Using both hands, he ripped the top of your tights so he could take off your panties. He pushed back down a bit more, discarding the ruined underwear, face coming close to your core. He breathed against your now naked area, and that action alone had you seeing stars. He then kissed the area slowly, tentatively tasting you. The sound you made was wild; a perfect description of how you felt once his lips connected to your body.

He started to move his tongue in circles, falling into a slow rhythm that had you begging him for more. Showing you that he heard you loud and clear, he started moving his right hand towards your centre, his left one trying to stop your hips from grinding against him. Once you finally managed to stop moving, he awarded you with faster movements, his hand already teasing your entrance. He inserted one finger into you, moving it temptatively while his tongue continued its assault.

The difference between his actions got you close to your climax in no time, and you couldn't take it anymore. You pulled him up, receiving a puzzled look - like he could tell you were almost there and was annoyed to have to stop. You squeezed his shoulders, pulling him closer and kissing him hard, pushing your hips up against his. You couldn't breathe, couldn't see anything. All you could think about was having him inside you.

"Yunho, please. I really can't take it anymore. Please, fuck me."-you pressed your hips against his once more, desperate for some kind of friction.

He pressed down on you harder, loving the sensation of your naked bodies meeting. His movements were excruciatingly slow, and you could feel him shaking against you, keen on teasing you even though he wanted you just as much. You could do nothing but follow his hands with your eyes, heart beating so fast you could barely hear him; the beats louder than the music back at the club.

As soon as you thought about the place, you whimpered. The memory of his hands running over your body, hips moving together to the beat of a sensuous song; "Dirty Dancing" a kids' show close to what you were doing. You didn't realize it then, but you could definitely feel now just how bad he wanted you, and how bad you wanted to succumb to your darkest desires. For months now you fought against your desire for him, and he seemed to have done the same. Letting go; it felt as freeing as freedom could possibly be.

"Noona," he said, forcing you to open your eyes; you hadn't even realized you closed them. "Look at me."

He looked down at you, almost naked - the last shreds of your tights still clinging to your skin - and smiled. His hands ran from your legs up to your chest, finally getting to your face. He touched your cheek softly, encouragingly, and you couldn't help but smile back at him. Just then, he started to look around, a question hanging on his face.

"I don't have any condoms," he said, pouting cutely - a big change from his previous dominant demeanor.

"Me neither," you added, although smiling. "But we don't need them."

He stared at you then, confused but intrigued.

"I'm on the pill, and I'm clean," you smiled at him. "What about you?"

"I'm… I'm clean too, noona," he sounded dumbfounded. "Are you sure about this?"

"There's no one I trust more, Yunho," you said, pressing your hips against his again. "I want you."

"Fuck, you're too perfect, noona."

He positioned himself, shaft touching your core lightly. He seemed lost in thought, so you swirled your hips again, hoping to bring back his dirty, needy expression. His right hand pressed your hips down on the bed, chest coming down to meet yours as he kissed you again, hungrily. You kissed him back, both hands behind his neck as you lost yourself to the sensation of his lips against his.

Before you could tell, he pushed inside you, to the hilt. You moaned at the sensation, hips moving again, as if they had a mind of their own. He didn't move, though. He just looked at you, trying to get used to the sensation of being inside you, revelling in your desperate movements and cries. You never looked so beautiful to him.

"Please move," you begged him. "I'm going crazy."

He started moving then, slow, sensuous thrusts hitting you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You clinged to him for dear life, every thought scaping you the moment he picked up his pace.

He kissed you again; a messy kiss, tongues trying to meet as he started to go even harder, every movement more precise than the one before. You could do nothing more than moan his name, the feeling of him filling you too good to put into words. He fit you perfectly, his expert hips only heightening the sensation. You melted against him, your hips trying desperately to match his movements as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

As if he could feel you were getting closer, he slowed down, hands pulling your hair once again as he bit your bottom lip and moaned.

"Noona," he groaned, trying to hold back.

"God, Yunho," you moaned against him. "Don't stop, please."

You wrapped your legs around his hips, feet pushing him to grind on you harder. You ran one hand over his ass, trying to touch him as much as you could, squeezing the flesh. His hands were now holding tight to your hips, so tight that you could feel bruises blossoming on your pale skin. But you didn't care. In fact, it only made you want him more, feelings and movements getting more and more frenetic.

You were getting off on the sensation of him inside you, as well as the thoughts of how many other positions you were hoping to try out with him. His dirty talking was making you lose control of your body, his gaze so erotic you fell like you could come from just looking at it. You had never felt this way before, so overcome with need, and it felt as painful as exhilarating.

He pushed your left leg back, getting even deeper than before. You cried out his name, closing your eyes with force, feeling your climax coming once again. He kept his pace this time, angling his hips to hit your spot again and again. You were already seeing stars, saying sentences that made no sense as you called out after him once more.

"Yunho," you gasped. "Oh my god."

Your high was powerful and numbing. You couldn't focus on nothing other than his grunts, telling you he was close too. You fought the overstimulation, moving your hips to meet his as you asked him to finish inside you. It seemed to be enough to push him off the edge, and soon he was biting your shoulders, coming undone.

He reluctantly got off of you, laying beside you and pulling you close. You were still shaking from the aftermath, and he kissed you tenderly on the temple before nuzzling into your hair. This sweet behaviour was a strong contrast to his actions, and as soon as doubts started to creep over you, his lips made sure to shut them down.

You kissed him back, slowly, trying to figure out how to voice your thoughts. He pulled back slightly, smiling against your cheek as he laid a small kiss there, then turning your face up to look at him. He passed his right hand through his hair, suddenly nervous. His left hand kept drawing small circles on your left shoulder, matching the movements of yours against his chest.

"I'm sorry, noona," he whispered, sounding small.

"It's okay, baby," you smiled. "We're okay."

"I just..." he trailed off, as if lost in thought, a small smile creeping once more. "I don't know how it all escalated so quickly."

"Jealousy doesn't fit your image," you joked, snuggling against him. "That's for sure."

"God, I was such an asshole,"-he held you tighter. "I don't even know why."

"Yeah, you were," you laughed. "But we're good now."

"Really?"

"I mean, you're lying naked on my bed at god-knows-what hours. You tell me!"

"I'd say we're great, then."

He looked down at your entangled bodies, eyes changing once more as he focused on your breathing. Leaning down to kiss you again, he used his right hand to lift your body, still on his side, just a little bit. Enough to kiss you more fiercely, needy. You pulled back, smiling, before kissing his jaw, cheek, and then his lips once more.

He ran his right hand over your side, soft touches between your hips and waist. You whined softly against his lips, the sound escaping before you could stop. He looked at you, desire returning to his eyes as he started kissing your jaw. His switched between kissing and biting your sensitive skin, your right hand grabbing his hair hard as your body started to react to his actions. Then, he pressed his hips on yours, his erection standing firm between your bodies as you gasped.

"Already?" you asked, making him press harder. "You're spoiling me."

"I can't help it," he laughed, nibbling your skin once again. "You're so hot, noona."

He sucked harshly on your collarbone, a purple mark already starting to show as he blew against the spot and kissed it. You pulled his head towards yours, kissing him like your life depended on it. At the heat of the moment, it really felt like it did. The feeling of how well his body reacted to yours spurting you on as you succumbed to want.

He started to turn to get on top of you, kissing you harder by the second. You pressed your left hand firmly on his chest, not letting him do so. He looked at you, confused, before you pulled him to you and kissed him again, tongues fighting for dominance. This time, he let you win, and you explored his mouth lazely, trying to control your pace.

As he tried once more to get on top of you, you pressed him hard against the bed, left leg moving over to straddle him without interrupting the kiss. As soon as you settled on the new position, his erection pressing against your inner thigh, you rolled your hips.

"Fuck," he cried out, hands holding onto your waist. "Do that again."

Once he saw you didn't move, nor would reply, he tried to roll his hips up to meet yours.

"Please, noona," he begged. "Please just-"

Before he could finish his sentence, you rolled your hips again, harder this time. He hissed loudly, throwing his head back as his chest lifted from the bed. His hips started to move up, meeting yours as you kept grinding down on him. You smiled at how fucked up he looked, knowing that any remaining effects of your previous drinks were far gone; you were doing this to him.

The realization hit you fast, and you moaned as you ceased your movements, hands balancing your weight on his chest. He looked at you, desperate, and you kissed him hard. His hands moved to your ass, squeezing the flesh as he tried to make you start moving your hips again. Your right hand started caressing his skin, tracing his collarbone and going lower, lower, until you reached his shaft. It felt warm and heavy on your hand, and you held it tightly, earning a string of curses from the younger boy. You teased him, kissing him hungrily.

When you felt his chest moving hard, breaths getting erratic, you stopped kissing him and, ever so slowly, sank down on him. You didn't move until you felt he was fully inside you, finally opening your eyes to see that his were glued to where your bodies met. You temptatively moved against him, hips rolling as you got used to his length in this new position.

He gripped your hips hard, not knowing if he wanted to make you move faster or to stop them completely. All you knew was that he looked ruined, and you loved it. The power you felt of being able to make him feel this way was enough to get you to start moving a little faster, hips sensuously rolling against his.

"Noona," he moaned. "I'm not gonna last if you keep going like this."

"Me neither," you confessed, grinding faster.

He started to lift his hips to meet yours, getting deeper inside you. You moaned his name, never stopping your rolling motion as you got lost in the sensation, in how good he felt like this. The sounds of him fucking into you were lewd and intoxicating, taking over your small bedroom. He held you even tighter, your nails raking against his chest and lips biting on his neck as you fell on top of him, body unable to keep going and giving in to pleasure.

He started to move faster, harder, searching for his release too. You squeezed him involuntarily, the motion enough to have him screaming for you as he climaxed, hands slowly rubbing your sore hips and thighs. You stood on top of him until your breathings got even, the glint of sweat making him look even more beautiful to you as you pushed from his chest.

You excused yourself, legs feeling like jelly as you tried to go to the bathroom to get cleaned up. The simple action took you a lot longer than normal, your body still coming down from the intense sex you'd just had.

Laying down on the bed again, he pulled you closer, not wanting to let go of you. You kissed his chest as he ran his hand on your hair, the act feeling more intimate than anything else you did that night. You could feel him smiling, a small laugh rumbling from his chest as he kissed your forehead.

You weren't sure of how things would be in the morning, but you knew that you felt safe in his embrace, and that was more than enough for now. His slowing breathing lulled you to sleep, limbs numb from how intense you had each other. He held you tightly against his chest, a soft smile crossing his face as he soon fell asleep too.

In the morning, you got up before him. Nothing new, considering he was a sleepyhead. You took a nice, warm shower, remembering your actions of the previous night. You were glowing, sated from how well he took you. You couldn't stop smiling.

Wearing nothing but your nightgown, you headed to the room to see if he was up. He was sprawled on your bed, naked body barely covered by the thin sheets. It felt like a sin to wake him. You'd never seen him so peaceful before. You decided to cook breakfast before doing anything else, the idea of pancakes suddenly very appealing.

While you were finishing your plates, he appeared in the corridor, only wearing his boxers.

"Good morning, noona," he smirked.

"Good morning, baby," you smiled back, too relaxed to care about his teasing.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, suddenly shy.

"I feel good, honestly," you answered. "And you? You know we'll have to talk about it sooner or later right?"

"Later sounds good"-he got into the kitchen, holding you from behind as he stared at what you were doing."Something smells great in here."

"I thought it'd be nice to cook you something, since you worked so hard last night," you joked, blushing.

"I could think of better things to feast on in the morning, noona."-he turned you to him, pulling you by the hands when you tried to create some distance between you.

He kissed you softly, pushing you back against the dining table. You smiled, kissing him back and running your hands through his hair. He lifted you by your legs, placing you on the table; hands squeezing your thighs hard as he opened them, pressing closer. You started kissing him harder, breakfast long forgotten. He started to push your nightgown upwards, touching the small bruises left from the night before when, suddenly, someone started knocking on your door.

"Noona, it's Hongjoong!"

"It's all of us!" Mingi added, and you and Yunho shared a look, started to get nervous.

"Are you up?" Hongjoong asked. "Yunho didn't come home yesterday and he seemed so out of it after your fight. We don't know where he is and honestly, we're freaking out."

Before Yunho could say anything, you ran over to the door, worried about your friends. You opened the door, trying to fix your disheveled look as best as you could.

"Thank god you're up!" Mingi said, hugging you. "We have no idea of where he is and-"

Mingi and the rest of the boys fell silent as they saw Yunho leaning against the kitchen counter, barely dressed. You had the decency to blush, trying to cover any apparent hickies and marks with your hair, but he just smiled at the group, walking over to where they were standing as you closed the door behind them.

"Good morning, fellas," he said, grinning at you.

The seven boys exchanged confused looks, a few of them already smirking at the scene they encountered. You were afraid they'd tease you endlessly, and were not ready for it; not at all. Thankfully, they just laughed and said hello to their bandmate. Yunho excused himself and went to get dressed. You and Wooyoung shared a knowing look, falling into a fit of laughter, soon followed by the rest of them.

"What were you doing, noona?" Seonghwa asked, smirking at you.

"I was… We were..." you fumbled with your words, blushing hard.

"It seems like they were about to have... breakfast," Yeosang said, and you were glad he saved you from the embarrassment, even if he still teased you.

"Yeah, that's what we were doing!" you exclaimed.

"Are those pancakes?" Jongho asked, smiling. "I'm starving!"

You smiled at the boys, offering to cook for the whole group as Yunho got dressed, hoping they wouldn't mention whatever you were doing before they arrived ever again. They seemed to be trying hard to talk about anything else, joking about how they were glad their friend was safe and sound and mentioning how boring the club got once you left.

They started telling you tour stories, laughing at crazy fan moments and embarrassing interviews. Your chest was full of love and happiness for this group, and you smiled softly at them, saying you couldn't wait to see them performing their next release - one you'd already heard, since you were so close.

Yunho got back, smiling down at you, and he kissed you lightly on the cheek, picking up a plate of pancakes and scrambled eggs. The boys looked him over, San's hand running over his neck in a quick motion as he decided to speak up.

"That's gonna be hard to cover," he smirked, motioning to the love bite you left there.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Yunho said, hand moving to cover the same spot his friend had touched, his ears turning red.

If the group noticed San's teasing, they didn't show it; all too preoccupied with the table full of food to get into that. Yeosang looked up at you, smiling, and you couldn't help but smile back at him. You were as happy as you could be, knowing that everyone was treating you the same and, most importantly, knowing that Yunho didn't seem to be having second thoughts about whatever happened between you. You were still on friendly terms, you thought, and you realized you had never felt more content.

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koteosa · 4 years

Text

here’s some modern au headcanons for the arcana ... it’s something I think about a lot

Asra

gamer memeing shitlord . he majored in minecraft you cannot convince me otherwise

plays A Lot of minecraft but also just enjoys any similar sort of game, sdv, animal crossing, etc. He’s really good at video games but he’s just fucking around . he likes to play online games and try his best to make everyone hate him in a really harmless sort of way . he heals the enemy spy . changes his display name and avatar to be exactly the same as someone else . tells people to go into the console and type unbindall

he plays games with his friends and he’s usually the top player so he just spends his time spoiling the shit out of his friends giving them good items carrying them through dungeons etc but not Julian, he tells Julian to dig straight down in minecraft . Julian doesn’t ever know what he’s doing in any video game so Asra trains him wrong on purpose, as a joke

anyway enough about video games (for now)

Asra lives in a van that he painted the exterior of himself, it was both a fun project and a very smug way to annoy people with this awful fucking hippie van strolling into town, eat shit

it’s decorated with crystals, furs, fairy lights, mason jars full of food For The Aesthetic, books, etc. It’s very cozy, cottagecore / bohemian and it’s ridiculously obvious that he’s into witchcraft. he just lets Faust explore because this isn’t real and I can pretend that a snake is exactly as well behaved as in a fantasy story

basically homeless by choice

drugs tw but I see him as the type to want to try anything and everything at least once so if he’s ever been offered A Drug (and he crashes parties for fun and for free food, so he’s got opportunities) he’ll try it Just To See, and this has resulted in some bad trips before, but Muriel saw him in the middle of one and then after he sobered up Muriel put his foot down and made Asra agree to only do these things as responsibly as possible, like, with supervision from a friend

still drugs tw but I also see Asra as a stoner but in the cbd edibles sort of way, a lot of this is because I headcanon Asra as having ADD (because I do and I want to project a little bit) so it helps him focus but also he just Likes It. the glove box of his car has like, chocolate/lollipop edibles stuff like that

goes between like super healthy elaborate meals with mushrooms and veggies and fresh meat and shit and then just eating nothing but cheez-its all day

style wise I see him as the type to wear a lot of tank tops, like, the loosest of tank tops so it hangs super low and long and you get some nice cleavage out of it, crystal necklaces, gold jewelry, pride pins/jewelry/etc (trans/nonbinary/bisexual flags), oversized hoodies with loud colorful patterns, joggers and other loose comfy pants, and either boots or slippers

he’s got like... the at home look that’s basically what I just described, and then the away from home look that’s got thirty layers and none of it makes sense and he just shows up in orange crocs With Patterned Socks and everyone who sees him just lets out the heaviest sigh

Asra getting home be like (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a layer of clothes) (takes off a l

He likes to go on long road trips completely at random and saves up money to go on more extensive trips like, out of the continent. It can be really hard to place him at any given time, especially because he’s extremely slow to respond to texts for a whole multitude of reasons. He just fucking vanishes sometimes and he doesn’t get that maybe people want to know where he is. He’s too solitary

He makes money either via street performances (magic, tarot readings, etc) or selling shit on etsy like handmade tarot decks, crystal necklaces, magic charms, etc. He Has Never Worked A Day In His Life and He Will Not Start Now

Responsibility? Don’t know her

People ask him really obnoxious questions sometimes and he makes outlandish lies to tell them for fun . Why do you live in a van? A house killed my parents

In the fall/winter he lives with Muriel or more to the point, he crashes on his couch for a really long time and Muriel’s landlord doesn’t need to know about it for rent purposes

Julian

he’s a highly paid doctor and your mother would love it if you’d marry him if not for the fact that he looks like he never left his teenage emo phase

PIERCINGS

There’s DEFINITELY at least one piercing on his d

he lives with Portia and Mazelinka and tries to handle all their expenses but Mazelinka won’t fucking let him

soundproofed his room but not because he’s a youtuber or anything but because he uh. y’know what I’m gonna let y’all figure this one out on your own

goes to like............. lgbt friendly bdsm clubs every now and then looking for someone to step on him and call him garbage it’s for his mental health you don’t understand

black turtlenecks . silver jewelry . distinguished but Edgy as well, black boots, winklepickers, doc martens, ohmygod this is my SHIT I’m giving him red plaid pants and a reversed cross necklace and a leather jacket that says some radical shit on the back and Lots of Rings . black jeans with tears in the knees and black eyeshadow, demonia boots, leather gloves, hhhhhhOHmy GOD

catch him at home in black leggings and a my chemical romance tshirt with holes in it . he wakes up in the morning with yesterday’s makeup and he just cleans it up a little and that’s good enough

fairly small bedroom because he’s usually never at home, but it’s still pretty clear what he’s into even if it’s not super decorated or elaborate, kind of just Default Room but with his stuff arranged throughout . band posters, black furniture, a bed that looks like a depressed vampire sleeps in it, a bookshelf but most of the books are scattered around his desk, bed, and the floor. there’s a taxidermy skull on display somewhere because it’s just so dramatic you gotta love it

plays a black electric violin

extremely out of tune with pop culture he still listens to 70-00s music and he doesn’t know what a minecraft is or why Asra keeps yelling CREEPER when he comes into the room nor why Portia yells back AW MAN

I googled it and he qualifies as a millennial but I still see him as such a fucking old man who doesn’t know how to use electronics

despite being a doctor he’s so unhealthy . he eats nothing but depression meals (or just, nothing) unless someone forces him to sit down and eat an actual meal . No Julian whiskey does not count for your daily water intake

Malak probably happened because Julian wouldn’t stop feeding every black bird he saw just for the aesthetic and that was like 17 years ago but they still show up at his window expecting almonds or whatever the fuck . he changes houses but they’re too smart . you try to be a cool gothic thespian with a raven that will pose on your arm ONE time when you’re a teenager and they just never stop coming

sad lonely no friends hasn’t been laid in six years because he’s too busy and no longer remembers how to form meaningful relationships. Portia keeps being like so I met this really hot (insert gender here) and like idk I think they’re into goth dudes............... just saying...................... and he’s like am I really so pathetic that I’m going to let my baby sister set up blind dates for me? Yes

would drive something very goth like a hearse or some shit if not for the fact that his family would make sure he ends up in a coffin in the back of it if he drove up in that shit . please . buy a normal fucking car . Julian . oh my god

he starts quoting melodramatic poetry at the slightest inconvenience . he is that “All you did was betray me as I lay sick and festering. You are the definition of dread. My cat stole my fucking garlic bread” meme

been arrested multiple times for general rowdiness but also for political activism . at this point Portia/Mazelinka will just sigh and pay his bail and they don’t even ask what he did this time . how does he still have a job? I wish I knew

theater kid

Muriel

lives in a rundown apartment in the shitty part of town because it’s all he can afford, it’s quiet, and no one will try to visit him (except Asra) because no one wants to go to THAT part of town . but no harm will likely ever befall him because he’s 6′10 and like three million pounds of raw muscle with battle scars like you gonna fuck with that? really?

even if he got robbed it wouldn’t matter because A) he doesn’t own anything B) Inanna will chase the thief away

depression man staying in his quiet rundown dark apartment distracting himself with idle hobbies and taking care of his dog to prevent the encroaching ennui from tearing him a new asshole

changes jobs frequently both because he never stands out therefore never gets taken on full time after the part time trial period, AND to protect himself from the horror of being known

works mostly things like construction, auto repair, dog sitting/walking/etc, woodworking, mostly hard labor but if he can convince granny to let a very scary but completely harmless man look after her bichon frise for the weekend then he’s pretty happy about that

in a similar manner, he orders everything online so cashiers/etc won’t start to recognize him. delivery workers leave everything outside his door and he just drags it inside after they leave like an itazura kitty coin bank

goes camping a lot because staying cooped up in his apartment is super bad for his mental health and he doesn’t like to take walks through the city for a multitude of reasons. he takes Inanna on walks through the woods instead

Asra is his only friend and that’s fine (it’s not fine)

convinced therapy doesn’t work and he wants nothing to do with it

doesn’t like using electronics and only keeps a few things around his house so Asra can use them when he’s around . Muriel has a phone (that Asra got for him) so he can text Asra, check the time, check the weather, google questions, and like, nothing else

pretty much only happy when something is about dogs. he wants to go to the pet store and look at the dogs but he needs Asra to go with him so Asra can distract the workers and Muriel can look at the puppies in peace

dresses in blacks, grays, greens, and browns for the most part, jacket with the hood up, tank tops, dark jeans with tears in them, brown boots with mud stains on them . functional, not particularly stylish, and if he’s going to be in public he doesn’t want to make it easy for anyone to see his face. at home it’s mostly no shirt + sweatpants/joggers/etc. doesn’t accessorize or put in any real effort. he doesn’t care what he looks like (because he’s convinced he’s not much to look at anyway)

lives that super eco friendly life like Asra does but it’s more that he just feels comfortable living like he’s always on a camping trip

he doesn’t want to eat junk like Asra does but if Asra shows up with mcdonalds then well he can’t really say no

the type who uses something until he absolutely cannot use it anymore instead of just buying a new one

has never been to a doctor, dentist, etc Ever. the most he can do is take Inanna to the vet because he loves her so much

drives a very old pickup truck with like, chipped paint and mud stains. he’d take better care of it if only anything in life mattered

didn’t go to school

Portia

I like to think that she took on a groundskeeping job at Nadia’s very expensive large house and they fell in love and now Nadia pays for everything and Portia just spends her time gardening, playing with Pepi, and like idk running a vlogging/gaming youtube channel

200 videos of Pepi on her youtube channel with 4 million views each bare minimum . takes random videos of cats where she has to audio edit it to shit so you can’t hear her high pitched squeals of delight

minecraft let’s play part 30 where her, Asra, Nadia, and Julian play together and it’s extremely chaotic because Asra and Portia decide to gang up on Julian who does NOT know what he’s doing, and then Nadia surprises them all by not being the bigger person and instead tricking Julian into some elaborate trap where he steps on a trapdoor and falls 15 blocks into some lava and he looks up and all he sees is Nadia’s smug fucking avatar looking down at him

nightcore. it’s just not FAST enough

wears sweaters with cats on them. generally dresses in warm colors + brown/green, it’s like a very soft cozy look that you could go camping in or just generally be outside and get grass stains and whatnot. cute, functional

likes to make Julian do things for her like drive her places etc because like, he will. he always will

really likes social gatherings with her friends; sleepovers, beach trips, sitting at mcdonalds and pouring all their fries into a pile etc. tries to get Julian to go with her but he’s Just So BUSY. she makes fun of him and makes him drive her to it, then manages to convince him to stay

cottagecore aesthetic . she just thinks it’s so cute to have the little mason jars and decorate everything with leaves and flowers and BEES and whatnot . would love to live in a little cottage with a farm if she could

her room has a big cat tree in it . green wallpaper with yellow flowers. pressed flowers into books, an extremely cozy bed, fairy lights, it’s very farmy but also there’s a lot of electronics. she’s got a lot of 00s games, like, right in that ps2 sweet spot

nicknames all of her pokemon

she spoils the ever loving shit out of Pepi. She’s got a little cat harness and they go on walks through the park together

I don’t have a lot to say about the other two I Am Sorry

#the arcana #julian devorak #asra alnazar #muriel #portia devorak #nix hydra #text #writing #modern au #headcanon #the arcana writing

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chaosincurlss · 3 years

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In another world, I’m camped at my best friend’s bedside, reminding her of all the ways I’m going to help her heal, of all the ways I am grateful she survived, of all the ways I love her. She wears a sleepy smile that I’ve seen nothing short of a million times, and a hospital gown that does nothing to hide away the deep purple of the harm the world has done to her. One person should never have known so much pain, and she never should have had to be the one reaching to swipe away the tears that cascaded along my cheeks. Of course, she wouldn’t be the girl I’d grown alongside if she wasn’t the one trying to piece me back together, even when she was the one falling apart. That would be the place where I know myself, where I know the person before me, where I’ve memorized the features of the face my eyes can’t leave.

In this world, I’m looking down at a person I’ve been told is my best friend, but the girl in the coffin looks nothing like her. Everyone comments on how she looks as if she’s sleeping, but those are just the lies they need to tell themselves, because the truth is that this corpse looks like nothing more than some mangled version of Elena Gilbert. As if some twisted person had been given a canvas and asked to paint an idea of her, a broken and warped idea of her that no restorative makeup was going to fix. Some depraved creature had been let loose with the idea of Elena Gilbert and they’d left her this distorted thing. Her cheeks sunken from where her bones had been crushed and they hadn’t cared quite enough to conceal it, the line of her hair disrupted by the loss from when she’d been pulled across the gravel, the perfect button shape of her nose that should be scrunched by laughter now forever scuffed by the injuries she would never have the chance to recover from. From the slumber she would never have the chance to awaken from. I don’t know why people say they look like they’re sleeping, now more than ever, I don’t understand why they say it. At best, they look dead. At worst, they look like someone you’ve never met, but are expected to mourn anyway.

In this stranger’s stray strands of chocolate hair, I was expected to find memories of the times we’d spent playing dress up before we had any idea of what the world would be. Of when we would take turns in whichever princess dress happened to be the favorite that week, though the plastic pearl clips were the constant that stayed with us through it all, and I wished I had them now — I wished I could tuck her hair away just as we did when we were nothing but a twirling vision of trouble in tiaras, and I wished for the magic they held for us then, the type of magic that could undo the very worst of days.

When I took this stranger’s icy cold hand in mine, it should have reminded me of the very first time she’d slipped her fingers between my own, when her skin against mine spoke of something more than it ever had before, of the night that had felt like finally coming home. When we’d held our breaths, and let the silence lay heavy in the darkness of a childhood bedroom, words too much of a threat to such a flighty thing, if we’d even had words for what we were at all.

There was a sickening connection that I didn’t care to recognise in the midst of all of this — one I didn’t care to recognise, which meant that it was the only thing my mind could latch itself on to. I wanted no link between this nauseating period in my life, and any kind of happy moment that I’d been lucky enough to share with Elena, but it was there. This sense of blur that only came along with an emotion so intense that the human body didn’t know what to do with it. There was no part in our mind well enough equipped for the way that our feelings can simply overpower every other function we have, so comes the blur. Either end of the spectrum, the body doesn’t care to differentiate, it all hits the nervous system in the same way, the edges of it lost to the intensity of it all.

The moments of undiluted ecstasy. The moments of debilitating grief. A blur.

How we went from friends to more, the stretch of time it took and the ways it wove its way into my days and into the very fabric of my being, much like the days since the accident and the flurry of planning for the wake and the way that it chipped away at the very fabric of my being. A blur.

The moments when our hands ventured further than they ever had before, the way she said my name as if it were a question, as if it was everything to her, the moment they said the word ‘dead’ and there wasn’t an inkling of a question to it, as if they weren’t taking everything from me. A blur.

The way her lips brushed over the sensitive skin of my stomach and demanded that every hair I had stand in salute to her and the ways she could make me feel, the way my screen lit up with her smile every time there was a call to make and I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to feel again. A blur.

Promises of forever made through tears as we braved her empty home for the first time since her parents went over the bridge and how I couldn’t leave her side, how I wouldn’t let her drown in her despair and waste what they would have wanted for her, how I stand alone without her arms around me and there’s nothing to keep me from going under. A blur.

As I try to find my memories’ home in this shell of a person I don’t recognise, without the comfort of the warm chestnut hues that housed every up and down of this rollercoaster that we had called us, the want of warmth soon boils over into a burn. A burning rage for the emptiness of it all, for the finality we would never have, for the clarity she would never be able to grant, for the moments that should have come with the time that we always assumed was guaranteed. Each moment ahead became blurred — first by the silent and pure anger that bubbled for a life that would remain unlived, buried six feet under with every possibility that went with it — second by the tears that came alongside the accompanying agony of such a realization.

From my parents, to my teachers, to my friends, to passersby on the street — I had always been this little gust of Chaos, the ever-twirling bundle of blonde curls, whose path you didn’t dare enter. Not without a taste for Chaos, or a strong enough armor to combat it.

And, oh, how the Chaos swirled below the surface, nothing in my path but this future of shattered bones and scattered dreams, and all that I knew was that I needed to reach for something real, and the scrap of this imposter that I’d been given was nothing close to enough. So much was left buried beneath the surface, beyond this face that I didn’t know, there had to be a piece of the girl I loved somewhere below the chunky wool of the turtleneck the undertakers had insisted upon. A freckle that sat just where her shoulder met her neck, perhaps they’d tucked away her mothers necklace to keep it safe, there had to be a piece of her somewhere, something to tie me to this desolation.

So, my fingers curled at the material, and pulled in search of a prayer that any God who watched over this abomination knew wouldn’t be answered. They would sit in their almightiness and laugh at the girl whose heart broke too easily, the girl who filled herself to the brim with more hope than any one person should be able to carry, the girl whose mouth would fall agape as her eyes fell upon the jagged markings that should be the dip of Elena Gilbert’s collar bones, the exact place where sweet kisses would pool in exchange for the sweeter sounds of her laughter. Not only was this not the body of someone I knew, it was barely a body at all, something sewn together and strategically layered with thick clothing to fool those who dared to gather here in this place that had no hope of salvation.

At once, my hand dropped away, and the material sprung back into place, returning back to its post to guard the secrets that lay below. I expected that the horror had found its way out from within, that the discovery couldn’t have gone unnoticed, but when my gaze shot upward — the same busy conversations were carrying on. The same stories being swapped of the loveliness of the girl we had all known, and the tragedy of such an accident, an accident that had somehow lost its details between the asphalt and this room. Silence and I weren’t well acquainted with one another, though my mind swam with the images that were now seared upon my brain, and they were something as unfathomable to me as the fact that I apparently hadn’t made a sound. Then I can feel that edge approaching, the one where the blur takes over, the one where your mind decides that your fragile little self has had too much of the emotion that it has given to you, and floats you out to sea until you can be trusted to be returned to calmer waters. There was no comfort to be found within the confines of the casket, lesser comfort to be found in the walls that surrounded me, and yet I couldn’t help but search — as if she might round the corner at any moment, and this might have been nothing more than the worst corners of my mind grasping at my dreams. Solace was all that I asked, among all of the unknown, just a moment of relief.

In a sea of unfamiliarity, there stood a startling reminder of what unfamiliar truly was, a face in the flood of bodies that swirled in this whirlpool that threatened to pull me under — an expression of complete stillness amid this Chaos, tucked away at the very edges of the crowd, where another may have let him remain nothing but alien. Not me, not the ever dutiful hostess whose role was snapping back into place at the sight of a guest left unwelcomed, one who was also uninvited as far as I was concerned. This skin of someone who planned, who preened, who tended to the details and the finer details of events — it was the familiar ground I’d needed to find my footing once again. It wasn’t the hand I’d wished to hold, it wasn’t the beauty mark I’d sworn to worship for the rest of my days, but it pulled me far enough away from the depths to satisfy the ever watchful guardian within my mind that was determined to protect me from myself. If I never said it aloud, the Gods that spent their days laughing away at my misfortune would know and wonder at the miracle of my gratitude for the rudeness of a man who showed up to a funeral without invitation. For they would know that if it weren’t for that moment, if my eyes hadn’t caught on his, if I wasn’t compelled to leave Elena’s side and ever so politely quiz him on his funeral attending etiquette — the waves would have crashed over me, and I never would have seen shore again.

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writethehousedown · 4 years

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i'm burning for you (shalaska) - freyja

A/N: hello!! I really didn’t mean for this to get up to 8k, but, here we are. I figure we all need a little beach fluff in our lives, right? Also, this is technically spring break, because it worked better for my purposes, but it works for a summer challenge. At least, I hope so.

Summary: Alaska’s crush on Sharon Needles has been manageable only because Sharon Needles does not wear anything remotely sexy. Too bad Raja decides Sharon’s going to be the model for her new swimsuit spread. Or, Sharon wears seven very, very distracting bathing suits, and Alaska’s spring break is completely and utterly fucked. 7.7k.

DAY ONE OF SPRING BREAK

“Spring break is a time to relax, right?”

“Mhm.”

“The idea is to get away from it all, right?”

“Sure.”

“‘It all’ includes hopeless crushes, right?”

“Why not?”

“Then explain to me how this is fair?”

“My eyes are telling me it’s very fair,” Willam says, sliding her sunglasses down her nose to leer over at the ice cream hut. “Maybe even a blessing.”

“I hate you,” Alaska says, but she lets her eyes follow Willam’s gaze. The sight that greets her confirms it: her spring break is completely, utterly, unfairly ruined.

Sharon Needles is standing at the stationary ice cream truck, talking animatedly with Jinkx Monsoon and completely oblivious to her enraptured audience.

“This is homophobic,” Alaska says, her eyes never leaving the other woman.

“I was just about to say gay rights,” Willam says, and Alaska takes a deep breath.

Alaska has had a crush on Sharon ever since she cracked a joke the first day of their shared government class last semester, so, naturally, Alaska has learned a few things about her: Sharon is a poli-sci major in her junior year. Sharon is at the top of her class. Sharon throws the best Halloween parties on campus. Sharon fights with the pastors that come to yell at passers-by on the quad. Sharon exclusively wears ratty t-shirts and ripped jeans. Sharon sneers at the word ‘sexy’ like it spit on her mother.

Sharon Needles is currently getting ice cream dressed in the sexiest bikini Alaska has ever laid eyes on.

It’s black, with a simple bra and a high waisted black bottom. Netting covers the top and ties around the neck, standing out against Sharon’s pale skin. Gold caps off the end of each string, catching the light attractively when Sharon shifts, laughing. It hugs Sharon’s figure tightly (of fucking course, it’s a bathing suit), showing off… everything.

“Staring is rude,” Willam says, and Alaska tears her eyes away from Sharon’s ass, cheeks burning.

“I wasn’t staring,” she says automatically. “Let’s go lay down with Courtney.”

“No ice cream?” Willam asks, voice verging on a whine, and Alaska ignores her, marching back down the beach towards Courtney, who is lazing in the sun and has been since three hours before, despite her skin already being perfectly bronzed.

“Oh, hello!” Courntey says, pleasantly surprised as Alaska flops down next to her. Willam daintily lies down on her other side. “How was the ice cream?”

“Apparently Sharon’s too sexy to be getting any ice cream,” Willam says simply.

“Willam!”

“Ah,” Courtney says sagely, looking at Alaska with sympathy. “She does look good today. I just saw her with Jinkx Monsoon.”

Alaska groans, giving into temptation and looking back at the ice cream truck just in time to see Sharon catch a drip of melted ice cream and lick it off of her finger. She does it exaggeratedly slowly, clearly in an effort to make Jinkx laugh, but all Alaska can focus on is the way her red lips split into a slow smile around her tongue.

“Fuck my life,” Alaska says, watching as Sharon cackles at the face Jinkx is making. A little bubble of jealousy springs up in her belly - she should be the one making Sharon laugh.

“Calm down,” Willam says flatly, and Alaska glares at her.

“I’ll calm down when she stops wearing that swimsuit and goes back to baggy t-shirts. Where the fuck did this even come from?”

“I think Raja Gemini got her hands on her,” Willam says.

“So Raja Gemini is to blame for ruining my life,” Alaska groans, laying down in defeat. Or maybe she owes Raja her life. Either one.

“She’s doing a swimsuit project for the school magazine,” Courtney says excitedly. “She’s done at least seven different designs, and they’re all supposed to be crazy unique. It was actually supposed to be last year’s spread, but they couldn’t find the right model.”

“She rejected Naomi Smalls, Violet Chachki, and fuckin’ Courtney,” Willam says, and then she pauses as if in thought. “I guess I would want someone with boobs, too.”

“Hey!” Courtney shrieks, laughing. Alaska shrugs.

“Makes sense,” she says. “Those girls are too skinny, anyway.”

Willam snorts. “You’re one to talk. Sharon could break you in half.”

“Yes, please,” Alaska says.

“Why don’t you go over and ask her, then?”

Alaska looks at her. “You have to know that’s not an option.”

Willam shrugs. “Your fingers, I guess.”

Alaska hits her with Courtney’s rolled up towel.

DAY TWO OF SPRING BREAK

“Tell me again why we chose to come to the most popular beach?”

“Because going with my parents to their new lakehouse would have sucked harder.”

“I don’t know,” Alaska says, her book forgotten on her stomach as she stares twenty feet to her left. “At least there would be a chance of me finishing Macbeth.”

“You don’t go to the beach to catch up in your English classes, whore,” Willam says. “You go to ogle at everyone.”

“Well,” Alaska says grimly. “I’m certainly ogling.”

Courtney had been right - Raja Gemini is doing a photoshoot, it is based on swimsuits, and Sharon is her model. They’ve decided to do the shoot on the beach itself, and currently, they are too close for Alaska’s sanity.

She watches as Raja jams the feet of her tripod into the sand, laughing at something Sharon has just said and tossing her long, straight black hair behind her back as she fiddles with her equipment. Her swimsuit is fun, made up of a strappy pink top and bottoms with a gigantic eye on the ass, but Alaska’s eyes gravitate towards Sharon no matter what she tries to focus on.

Sharon stands just off to the side, patiently waiting with her hands on her hips, completely oblivious to the way Alaska’s mouth goes dry just looking at her.

She’s in a one piece today, made up of a dangerously see through lace that shines when the sun hits it. It’s certainly unique - it covers her chest in a turtleneck and has sleeves that go down to her wrists. Her legs are bared normally, her pale skin offset brilliantly by the olive green of the fabric, and her lips are painted a dark eggplant.

If this carries on for the rest of the week, Alaska is completely screwed.

“We have to change spots,” she says, as Sharon walks over to help Raja with her camera. God, she’s so helpful. And considerate. And hot. “Like, immediately.”

“I fought a ten year old kid for this spot,” Willam says. “That’s not happening.”

“Willam,” Alaska whines, flipping over to glare at her friend. Willam is unmoved, expression blank behind her mirrored sunglasses. “If I have to suffer like this for much longer, I’ll die.”

“I’ll make sure to say nice things at your funeral,” Willam tells her. “Courtney yelled at me about the kid. I didn’t sit through that just to leave two days in.”

“Courtney’s getting you a margarita right now,” Alaska says drily. “I think she’s over it.”

“Yeah,” Willam says. “Having a girlfriend sure is nice.”

“Don’t act like she wasn’t the one to ask you,” Alaska snaps back, and Willam raises an eyebrow.

“So you’re never going to make a move?” she asks, and Alaska turns to look at Sharon again, forlorn and resigned to her fate of forever looking from afar.

“That’s exactly what I– what the fuck is she doing?”

Courtney is currently traipsing towards Raja and Sharon, two margaritas in her hands and a huge grin on her face. As she nears them, she turns her head to meet Alaska’s glare. She winks.

“I’m going to kill her,” Alaska says lowly, horror creeping under her skin, and Willam laughs.

“I guess Courtney’s going to make a move for you,” she says, and dread suddenly breaks over Alaska in a cold sweat.

“She’d better fucking not be,” she says, watching Courtney finish talking to the other two. “I swear–”

“Courtney!” Sharon hollers, and Courtney stops making her way back towards Alaska and Willam to turn around.

“Yeah?”

“We’re having a party tomorrow night! You and Willam should come! Alaska too!”

Alaska’s breath catches at the sound of her name.

“Yeah!” Courtney calls back, but not before she flashes Alaska a cheeky grin. Alaska hates her. “Totally!”

“I’ll text Willam the details!” Sharon shouts, and Alaska turns to stare at Willam.

“You have her number?” she asks incredulously.

“I have everyone’s number,” Willam says, shrugging. “Plus, we smoke sometimes.”

“You smoke sometimes?!” Alaska cries. “Why haven’t I heard about this?!”

“It’s not important!” Willam says, widening her eyes with annoyance “I smoke with everyone!”

“Smoke?” Courtney asks before Alaska can fire back an response, flopping onto the gigantic beach blanket Willam had procured at the beginning of the trip. “I would kill for a joint right now.”

“You made me leave the weed behind, remember?”

“Right.”

Alaska turns her attention back to Macbeth, over the conversation, her face burning and more absurd jealousy making it hard to focus on the words. If she can just get this act finished –

“Awww!” Courtney squeals, sounding excited. “They’ve started the shoot! Sharon looks amazing!”

Alaska is required by law to look, and when she does, her heartbeat goes straight to her underwear. She can’t tear her eyes away from Sharon, lounging on the sand with her blonde curls strewn beneath her, giving the camera the bedroomiest bedroom eyes Alaska has ever seen.

This isn’t fair.

“Damn,” Willam notes from behind her. “I thought she was going to be awkward.”

“I’m entranced,” Alaska says, watching Sharon shift positions. She’s only half joking. “I’m bewitched.”

“I’m bored,” Willam says. “Let’s go swimming.”

“I swear, you have the attention span of a goldfish,” Courtney says, looking reluctant to stop watching the shoot, but standing up anyway. Willam shrugs.

“Sorry,” she says, clearly not. She looks at Alaska. “You coming?”

Alaska grimaces. “I need to finish this,” she says, looking at Willam apologetically. She lifts up Macbeth. “Sorry.”

“I would have just taken ‘I’m too horny’,” Willam says drily, and Alaska’s jaw drops.

“Bitch!”

“Have fun!” Willam says, grabbing Courtney’s wrist and tugging her towards the water. Alaska waves them goodbye until they’re too wrapped up in each other to even think about her, and then she forces herself to look back at her book. She hadn’t been lying - she needs to read. She will finish Act One by the end of the day, god help her.

She gets two lines in before Sharon’s laughter floats by, and suddenly, Lady Macbeth’s speech is completely lacking in engagement. Before she can help it, Alaska’s eyes trail up towards the photoshoot, and a jolt runs through her at the sight of Sharon straddling a chair, her legs spread and on full display.

Alaska doesn’t look at Macbeth again until Sharon is off of the beach and out of her sight.

DAY THREE OF SPRING BREAK

Raja’s parties have always been loud, drunk, and glittery, and this one is no exception.

It’s a beach party, so Alaska, Willam, and Courtney all show up in their swimwear. Except - they have absolutely no intention of swimming.

They all have makeup on - Willam’s bright and sparkly, Courtney’s subtle, and Alaska’s the best that she could manage. Willam has body glitter spread down her arms and legs, which has spread to Alaska and Courtney by mere association, and Alaska can only hope that the chunky blue sparkles go well with her bubblegum pink bikini.

“Now this is a party!” Willam shouts over the music, and Courntey nods, grinning.

“You know what it’s missing?” she shouts back.

“Us!” Willam yells, and then they’re making their way through the crowd to the makeshift bar, which is a fold out table littered with red solo cups and booze. Alaska’s heart stops with every platinum blonde girl that they bump into on the way, and she’s relieved when they make it to their destination seeing neither hide nor hair of Sharon.

Willam fills one of the cups with beer out of the keg and thrusts it at Alaska. Alaska shakes her head at it, too nervous to drink and not the biggest fan of beer, anyway.

“Not tonight!” she says loudly, and a sudden voice from behind her makes her jump five feet into the air.

“Wow, didn’t have you pegged for a stick in the mud!”

She whirls around to find Sharon standing just beside her, a red solo cup in her hand and her cheeks flushed with excitement and alcohol. As if her sudden appearance wasn’t enough to kill Alaska on sight, she’s in another exquisitely fitting bathing suit, black and glittery and with a deep, deep V.

“Um,” Alaska says intelligently, her eyes glued to the pale expanse of Sharon’s chest, and Sharon grins.

“You like it?” she asks, glancing down at herself. “Raja made it by hand - I’m not allowed to go swimming with it, because the glitter will wash off. I’m not entirely sure she’s suited for swimwear.”

Alaska laughs, regaining her footing, a little. She will not make a fool out of herself right now. She’s sober, and Sharon knows it - she won’t have an excuse for being an idiot in the morning. “I’m not sure you should really be swimming in October, anyway,” Alaska drawls, referring to the spider web shape of the strapless bra cups, and Sharon cackles.

“It’s not her fault,” she says, grinning. “I requested something a little spookier.”

“Well, I like it,” Alaska says, openly admiring it now that she has permission. “It’s my favorite so far.”

“So far?” Sharon asks, raising an amused eyebrow. “Have you been sneaking peeks?”

Alaska feels like her face is on fire. “Uh–”

“Alaska,” Sharon admonishes, but there’s a smile threatening to break through her scandalized frown. “Raja doesn’t want anyone to see until the spread is finished.”

“Then don’t do it on a public beach!” Alaska cries. “You’re distracting!”

“Am I?”

Alaska hadn’t thought blushing harder was possible, but the heat creeping up her neck says otherwise. “I mean - with the cameras, and everything - it’s a whole production, you know.”

Sharon laughs at her stammering, and Alaska can’t help the affection that warms in her chest at how loud it is. “You can say it’s my bad modeling,” she says, and she touches Alaska’s arm like she’s sharing a secret. Alaska freezes, afraid of somehow scaring her away. “I have no idea why Raja chose me, but I’m milking it for as long as she thinks I’m worth it.”

“You are,” Alaska says without thinking, and then she sucks in a breath, watching Sharon’s face for confusion - or something worse.

Instead, Sharon leans forwards a little, frowning. “What?” she says, louder than before, and Alaska can’t help but sag with relief.

“I said ‘good idea’!” she shouts, and Sharon’s face splits into another smile.

“Let’s go outside!” she says. “I can’t hear a goddamned thing!”

And before Alaska can respond either way (yes - of course she’d say yes), Sharon’s grabbing her hand and leading her through the crowd, towards a pair of sliding glass doors near the back. Her ears ring as they exit the house, the sudden silence more of a relief than she’d expected, and Sharon slides the door shut behind them, muffling the music even further.

“Thank god,” Sharon moans. “I thought my head was going to burst in there.”

“Really?” Alaska teases. “That seems kind of lame for someone who throws the best parties on campus to say.”

“Halloween parties,” Sharon corrects, like Alaska doesn’t already know. “And I’m usually already drunk by the time those start. Whatever’s in those kegs doesn’t seem to be doing the trick, tonight.”

“You mean I’m talking to a sober Sharon Needles right now?” Alaska cries, pulling her face in exaggerated shock. “No.”

“Yes,” Sharon says, nodding gravely. “It’s horrible.”

“I don’t think you were even sober for Dujour’s class,” Alaska says, shaking her head. “Can I take a picture with you? This needs to be documented.”

“Well, I can’t believe you were sober for Dujour’s class,” Sharon says, her tooth gap on full display. “It was a nightmare even when I was drunk out of my mind.”

“That was a government class!” Alaska laughs, staring at Sharon in amused disbelief. “You needed that class more than I did!”

“I had your notes!” Sharon says. “I’m sure I got more out of those than I would have out of Dujour’s mouth.”

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Alaska drawls. “I’m pretty sure my notes are the reason you don’t have to retake that class.”

“I said thank you!” Sharon says, her defensive tone undercut by the huge smile on her face. Alaska finds herself mirroring it, Sharon’s grin infectious.

“You were drunk!” Alaska tells her. “That hardly counts!”

“Then allow me to say it again: thank you, my hero,” Sharon says, and then, before Alaska can tell her that sarcasm doesn’t count either, she grabs her hand and bows over it, kissing her knuckles.

Alaska is certain that her face goes at least five shades of red, Sharon’s lips soft and burning against her fingers. “You’re welcome,” she says weakly, as lightly as she can with her heart threatening to pound out of her chest. Suddenly, she is very, very aware that she and Sharon might as well be alone together, the sliding glass door practically a chasm between the quiet beach and the roaring party.

Sharon lets go of her hand as soon as she’s done, giving Alaska another gap-toothed grin. Her lips are black to match her bathing suit, her blue eyes done up in shades of grey, and Alaska’s breath catches in her throat as she watches the party lights dance across her face.

“Now,” Sharon says, like nothing remotely romantic or intimate has just occurred. Alaska thinks she might have whiplash. “Do you like swimming?”

“What?” Alaska asks, her face still burning from earlier and her brain struggling to catch up.

“This suit may not be functional, but tomorrow’s is,” Sharon explains, “I want someone to swim with me tomorrow. Sun tanning isn’t exactly my thing.”

Alaska laughs at her. “No, I wouldn’t expect it to be,” she says dryly, and Sharon shrugs, grinning.

“Well? What do you say?”

Alaska’s heart starts to quicken, her palms sweaty. She bites back the ‘Of course!’ she wants to say, instead sticking to her teasing. The last thing she wants Sharon to think is that she’s overeager - she does not, under any circumstances, want to fuck this up.

“What happened to Raja?” she asks. “Or are you only using her to get fame and fortune?”

Sharon snorts. “I wish,” she says, rolling her eyes up in a playful expression. Alaska is entranced. “But I don’t expect Raja’s graduation project to make me anything but masturbation material.”

“Sharon!” Alaska cries, unable to help the laugh that escapes her. A pleased smile curves across Sharon’s face.

“I only speak the truth,” she says. “And Raja doesn’t like to swim - she’s afraid of the water.”

“She is?”

“More specifically the undertow,” Sharon says. “I don’t like thinking about it much either.”

Alaska twists her lips in acknowledgement. “I guess, but–”

The sliding glass door suddenly opens with a sharp bang, making both women jump and Alaska cut her sentence short with a small yelp. She whips her head around to look at the door, already upset at being interrupted. Dammit.

Willam stands in the doorway, looking somewhere between her fourth or fifth drink, grinning like a loon. “‘Laska!” she shouts, much too loudly. “Courtney’s chugging the keg! Courtney!”

“Courtney?” Alaska repeats, disbelieving. As a rule, Courtney only drinks things served with at least one toothpicked fruit - Alaska doesn’t think she even knows what cheap college beer tastes like.

“It’s crazy!” Willam yells, eyes wide, and she walks over to grab Alaska’s wrist, tugging her inside. “Come quick, or you’ll miss it!”

“Wait!” Sharon says, and Alaska stops, resisting Willam’s drunken attempts to keep pulling her with a strength that only comes with the will to please Sharon Needles. “Tomorrow?”

“I’m there,” Alaska manages to say without stuttering, and her heart flutters as she says it, the glitter on Sharon’s bathing suit sparkling attractively in the moonlight. “When?”

“7 pm, by the lighthouse?”

Alaska has plans to go to some bonfire with Willam and Courtney at seven, but it takes her all of two seconds to decide that it’s not at all important. “Perfect.”

Sharon smiles, and it’s sweeter than the grins she’s been shooting Alaska all night. Alaska could look at her forever. “It’s a date,” she says.

Alaska is pretty sure her heart actually stops.

All she can do is stare, her jaw slackened and her cheeks burning, for a too-long moment. Sharon gives her a strange look, laughing a little.

“Are you alright?”

“Um,” Alaska says, because she’s stupid and her brain stopped functioning the moment Sharon arrived on the beach in that fucking bikini. “I’m, uh–”

Willam, always helpful only on accident, suddenly gives a particularly hard tug against her arm, and Alaska is jerked back into the thumping music of the party, bodies pressing against her as Willam leads her straight into the middle of a crowd. Courtney is in the middle, upside down and downing beer from the keg, but Alaska can hardly bring herself to care. Instead, her mind keeps wandering towards Sharon, her blonde hair nearly white in the moonlight and her eyes glittering with amusement.

It’s a date.

She doesn’t know if the way her stomach flips is out of nerves or excitement.

DAY FOUR OF SPRING BREAK

The sunset is gorgeous.

It’s pink and yellow and orange, glittering across the water with blinding light, the clouds streaks of bright coral against the sun’s burning yellow. Alaska glances at its arresting beauty, sighing appreciatively, and then she goes back to staring at the woman next to her.

Sharon’s swimsuit is a bright red one piece, with cute white pinstripes that nod to the forties, the sharp angles of her waist adding to the post-war feeling. The plunging neckline, however, is very much reminiscent of the modern era, and is very much what Alaska’s eyes keep getting stuck on.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Sharon says, her eyes still on the horizon. “It’s like looking at sherbet ice cream.”

“Mhm,” Alaska says, raising her gaze a little to rest on Sharon’s face. Her makeup is lighter, today, with only a bold red lip and winged black eyeliner, and Alaska finds the painted on beauty mark charming. “Love it.”

Sharon turns to look at her, and she wrenches her gaze quickly to look out at the sunset, her face burning. “Something tells me you’re not looking at the sunset,” she says, her voice teasing, and Alaska blushes so hard she can feel her ears burning. She looks at Sharon apologetically, unable to meet her eyes.

“I - uh - I’m–”

“I’ll make sure to let Raja know,” Sharon continues, giving Alaska a fond smile. Alaska immediately stops attempting to say anything, her heart bouncing around her ribcage. “She wasn’t so sure about this one, so it’ll be good to hear.”

“What?” Alaska asks, completely lost, her ears still warm. “I don’t - what?”

Sharon frowns, glancing down at herself. “The swimsuit? You want it, don’t you?”

Realization clicks in Alaska’s end, and suddenly, relief along with a strange hint of disappointment has her nearly falling over. Sharon’s completely oblivious - thank god. “Yes. Yes, the swimsuit. That’s what I was looking at.”

Sharon doesn’t look convinced, her eyes lingering on Alaska’s face. Alaska feels like a butterfly pinned to styrofoam. “You do like it, right? I’m not just assuming?”

“No,” Alaska says hurriedly, surprised. Sharon sounds almost insecure, unsure of herself, and it’s something Alaska never wants to hear in her voice again. She keeps forgetting that Sharon isn’t used to dressing like this, no matter how much it seems like she’s doing it to torture Alaska specifically. “I love it. It’s very forties.” She stumbles over the ‘f’, meaning to say flattering and chickening out at the last second.

Sharon grins. “Thanks,” she says. “You can relax, I’ll stop fishing for compliments.”

Alaska doesn’t know whether to feel relieved at the unintentional save, or to try and defend Sharon from herself - she doesn’t know which way is up most of the time, around this woman, so this is completely hopeless. She finally speaks after a too-long pause. “You weren’t–”

“Let’s go! I’ve been dying to get in the water all day!”

Sharon grabs Alaska’s hand, and Alaska doesn’t breathe the entire time Sharon drags her towards the water, Sharon’s fingers curled around hers the only thing on her mind. She finally sucks in a breath as they hit the water, the cold making goosebumps blossom across her skin.

“Jesus!” Sharon says, stopping as soon as the water reaches her thighs. It takes actual effort for Alaska to keep her eyes from lingering there. “No one told me it was freezing!”

She squeezes Alaska’s hand harder as the waves come up to hit her stomach. Alaska feels too warm to notice the water brushing across her own thighs, her heart in her throat.

“Do you want to get out?” she asks, even as disappointment sinks in her gut. Relief wars with it - she wants to spend more time with Sharon, spend all of her time with Sharon, but her anxiety tells her that if she spends too much time with her, she’ll fuck it up. She doesn’t know if she can handle that.

Sharon shoots her a scandalized look, letting go of her hand to turn towards her. Alaska tries not to mourn the loss. “Of course not!” Sharon says. “We just have to go in all at once.”

Alaska pulls a face at the idea. She’s never liked the ‘bandaid’ approach to things. “Are you sure?”

“What?” Sharon teases. “Are you scared?”

“Yes,” Alaska says plainly, and she smiles at the laugh Sharon lets out.

“Be brave for me?” she asks, and Alaska’s stomach does several somersaults.

“Of course,” she says, and Sharon grins.

Alaska follows Sharon as she wades out further, both girls shrieking as the icy water comes up to hit some new section of skin. Sharon stops as the water comes just below her shoulders, her hair streaming behind her like a mermaid’s. She looks enchanting in the orange of the setting sun, the blue of her eyes almost electric as the sun shines across them.

“Count of three,” Sharon says. “We duck under.”

Alaska nods. Sharon takes a deep breath.

“One,” she says.

“Two,” Alaska counts. Sharon’s smile is blinding.

“Three.”

They duck under, Sharon heedless of her makeup and Alaska steeling herself for the shock of the cold. It’s freezing, but her body soon acclimates to the temperature of the water, and she surfaces feeling refreshed.

She comes up before Sharon, so she watches as the other woman comes up for hair, her hair slicked back from her face and her mascara bleeding a little, a huge grin splitting her face. She looks stunning, and Alaska’s breath gets caught in her throat as she takes her in, her eyes bright with excitement.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since Raja told me she wanted me to model for her,” Sharon laughs. “After I figured out she wasn’t joking, of course.”

“Of course she wasn’t joking,” Alaska says before she can stop herself. “You’re perfect for this.”

Sharon raises her eyebrows. “Believe me, I’m not. Her suits are doing most of the work. All I have to do is stand the way Raja tells me to stand.”

“Please,” Alaska blurts out. “The suits are hardly the reason I’ve been watching the photoshoots.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Alaska thinks very hard about ducking under the water again and not coming up again.

Sharon is looking at her with a curious expression, and Alaska suddenly needs to get away right now.

“What do you m–”

“I have to go,” Alaska interrupts, panic making everything too much, too fast. “I just remembered, I have - something.” She starts wading towards shore, but Sharon grabs her wrist.

“Alaska, wait,” she says, and Alaska turns to look at her, avoiding her eyes. Her eyes get caught on Sharon’s lips, set in an adorable pout, and she has just enough time to imagine what it’s like to kiss her before she rips her gaze away. “What plans?”

“Um–” Alaska says, completely panicking, Sharon’s fingers too warm around her wrist and her eyes too intense on Alaska’s. The sun is dimming, casting them in purplish grey. She casts about for a good excuse, and she lets out a breath when she finds one. “There’s a bonfire. I’m already late - I promised Willam I would go with her.”

“The bonfire?” Sharon asks, letting go of Alaska’s wrist. Alaska turns to go again, cursing when she hears Sharon start to follow her. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know,” Alaska says, even though she knows exactly why. They make it onto the beach, and Alaska grabs her towel, drying off hurriedly. “I - I don’t know.”

“I doubt that,” Sharon says. “What did you mean, earlier?”

“What?” Alaska asks, playing dumb. She can’t find her phone. Where the fuck is her phone?

“Alaska,” Sharon says, and she sounds frustrated. Alaska winces. “Do you like me?”

Alaska freezes, terror ripping through her as she scrambles for a denial. “No,” she snaps out, panic making her voice hard and sharp. Sharon takes a step back, her eyes widening, and Alaska feels guilt drop into her stomach like a deadweight. She could cry at any moment. “I don’t,” she continues, her voice gentler. She can only pray that Sharon doesn’t hear the way her voice trembles. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I didn’t realize liking me was such a stupid idea,” Sharon says, hurt bleeding through her voice. Alaska wants to sink into the ground and die.

“No, I didn’t mean–”

“I know,” Sharon interrupts, her shoulders slumping. She looks put out - Alaska hadn’t realized how badly she wanted to go swimming. “I know what you meant.”

Alaska finally finds her phone underneath Sharon’s towel, and relief courses through her as she shoves her feet into her sandals. “I have to go,” she says, and Sharon snorts, but there’s no laughter in it.

“So you’ve said,” she says. “Have fun.”

“I will,” Alaska says, plastering fake-cheer all over herself, and she practically runs away, the image of Sharon and her closed-lipped smile, bathed in the moonlight and hair still dripping, burned into her mind.

She can’t help but feel like she’s just ruined something, but she has no idea what.

DAY FIVE OF SPRING BREAK

Alaska avoids Sharon to the best of her abilities, life threatening embarrassment making her stomach twist at even the thought of facing her after last night, but of course, she still ends up stumbling across her.

She’s getting margaritas with Willam and Courtney, which is fun only until they both reveal themselves to be wildly unsympathetic to her plight.

“So you spent two nights flirting with her,” Willam says, after giving Alaska a long, unimpressed stare when she’d finally answered Courtney’s incessant questions about her ‘date’, “only to freak out when things started to actually go somewhere.”

“Nothing was going anywhere,” Alaska snaps. “I fucked it up, and she noticed.”

“Didn’t you say you two were on a date?” Courtney asks, frowning. They move up in line. “Sounds to me like that’s what she wanted.”

“She obviously called it a date as a joke,” Alaska tells her. “I’m not stupid.”

“Debatable,” Willam says. Alaska could punch her.

“You should at least try to talk to her,” Courtney says. “You can’t just run away from her in the middle of a date and never talk to her again.”

“That shit ain’t right,” Willam agrees, and Alaska rolls her lips between her teeth.

“It wasn’t a date,” she reiterates. “And I can’t talk to her. I have no idea where she’s staying - she could be anywhere right now.”

Courtney frowns at her. “She’s right there,” she says, pointing down the beach. “I thought you’d noticed.”

Alaska follows her gaze to find Sharon and Raja in the middle of another photoshoot, this time close enough for Sharon’s feet to be in the water.

Alaska can’t look away from her.

She’s dressed in a two piece, the bottoms designed to look like high waisted blue shorts and the top a black and white pinstriped bra, cut into a sweetheart neckline that suits her perfectly. Her hair is done up in round, loose curls, spilling over her shoulders and back, and a white sailor hat sits cock-eyed at the top of her head. Her lips are painted a bright red, pulled into a pout as she salutes the camera, her other hand at her hip.

“I can’t go down there,” Alaska says, shaking her head. “I can’t go up to her and try to talk about my predatory behavior when she looks like that.”

“Predatory is one way to say it,” Willam says, and Courtney hits her on the arm. She turns to look at Alaska eagerly.

“You’re not predatory, silly,” she says. “You have a crush, and so does Sharon. Go down there and fix what you’ve broken.”

“Ouch,” Alaska says, and her stomach twists nervously at the thought of doing what Courtney tells her to. “And I can’t - she doesn’t– She doesn’t think of me like that.”

“How are you supposed to know when all you do is stare at her like some stalker?” Willam asks, and Alaska shakes her head. They reach the counter, now at the front of the line.

“I just know,” Alaska says, resisting the urge to stamp her foot with the frustration that’s bubbling up inside her. They just don’t get it. “I have, despite popular belief, actually held a conversation with her. I’m not doing it.”

“But how–”

“Welcome, ladies - how can I help you?” the cashier asks, giving them all a friendly smile. Alaska relaxes as Willam and Courtney start ordering, relieved that their interrogation is temporarily put on hold.

She sneaks a glance back at Sharon, who’s now crowded with Raja around the camera, no doubt looking at the pictures they’ve just taken. She’s sure they’re all wonderful.

Sharon’s ass looks great in those shorts.

Alaska’s never going to be able to look her in the eye again.

DAY SIX OF SPRING BREAK

“This is stupid,” Willam says. “I can’t believe how stupid you’re being right now.”

“It’s called self-preservation,” Alaska says.

They’re sitting on their blanket, sneaking glances at Raja and Sharon, in the same place they’d been for most of the week. Sharon is stunning, in an eggplant bikini that suits her pale skin, made to look like it’s been wrapped and twisted around her body. Her makeup is dark to match the suit, and she’s so hot that Alaska thinks she might die.

“Right,” Willam says drily. “Why won’t you just go talk to her?”

“Because,” Alaska sighs forlornly, her heart fluttering as Sharon’s lips twist up into a smile. “I can’t.”

Sharon’s eyes flick over to her, and her heart skips a beat. She tries not to feel hurt when Sharon immediately looks back at Raja, seemingly without giving Alaska a second thought.

“I don’t think she wants me to, anyway.”

DAY SEVEN OF SPRING BREAK

It’s not the last day of break, but it is the last day they’re on the beach, and Alaska’s plan is simple: avoid Sharon, mope around while Courtney and Willam rub their happiness in her face, and maybe sneak a peek at Sharon’s next bathing suit.

Willam, unfortunately, has never had very much respect for Alaska’s plans.

“I invited some people over,” Willam says from her spot next to Alaska on the couch, her eyes never leaving her phone. Her voice is nonchalant, but Alaska still shoots her a wary look.

“Who?”

Camping out in the Belli family’s beach house had been Alaska’s idea, a stroke of genius she’d had the previous night. She can’t seem to avoid Sharon successfully on the beach, so she’ll leave it entirely. She won’t be able to catch sight of Sharon if she’s sitting on a couch watching The Golden Girls on Willam’s enormous television.

“Raja, Jinkx,” Willam lists. “Sharon.”

Alaska’s heart does a swan dive into her stomach.

“That had better be a joke.”

Willam looks up at her. “It’s not.”

Alaska turns off the tv, turning to face Willam full-on, murder in her heart. “Willam, why the fuck would you do that?”

“Because Raja asked if she could,” Willam says, and then, “and because I thought it might be a nice opportunity for you to make out with her.”

“Willam,” Alaska hisses, panicking. “How could you?”

“You’ll be fine,” Willam says, hopping off the couch. “Though I suggest you get ready - they’ll be here in half an hour, and Sharon and Raja are coming straight from their photoshoot.”

“No,” Alaska breathes, aghast.

“Yes,” Willam says. “At least go put some mascara on. You look like you’re a hospital patient.”

“I hate you,” Alaska says, and she really feels it.

“You’re wearing pajamas,” Willam tells her. “They have ‘cunt’ printed across the ass.”

“Fuck,” Alaska says, and she stands up. “Jesus fuck, Willam!”

“It’ll be good for you,” Willam says, as Alaska races past her towards the stairs. “Courtney agrees!”

Alaska makes sure to slam the door to the bathroom extra hard.

Sharon arrives in a red one piece that practically screams ‘lust’, and it is the most homophobic thing to have ever happened to Alaska.

It’s wine dark and strapless, and the front of it is laced like a corset, allowing Sharon’s pale skin to peek through. The sweetheart neckline perfectly hugs her, emphasizing her full chest and her collarbone. Her lips are painted to match, her eyeshadow dark, and Alaska might go into cardiac arrest just looking at her. It’s like looking at a 15th century bar wench. Alaska wants her to pin her up against the wall and–

“We brought wine?” Raja says, her deep voice startling Alaska back into her body, and she realizes that she’s been making them wait in the doorway for a full minute.

“Great,” Alaska says, her face on fire, and she lets the two of them in, trying not to wince at the cordial smile Sharon gives her. She makes a note to kill Willam later for making her answer the door.

“You can set it on the counter,” she directs, and Sharon follows Raja into the kitchen, where Willam, Jinkx, and Courtney are waiting. Alaska lets out a breath as she closes the door, trying to decide if she’s relieved or hurt that Sharon doesn’t want to be alone with her.

She doesn’t know why Willam’s decided that this is going to be helpful in any way, but she supposes she has to deal with it, now. Deal with being around her crush who’s disgusted that she has a crush on her for who knows how long.

Not the ideal way to spend her last night on vacation.

“‘Laska!” Willam calls. “Come in here! We’re trying to decide what to play!”

Alaska sighs, steeling herself for more of Sharon’s apathy.

Fuck my life.

Willam, Courtney, Raja, and Jinkx all conveniently vote to play Seven Minutes in Heaven, despite Sharon and Alaska’s vehement protests and the fact that none of them have been in high school for at least three years.

They’d found an old wine bottle that Willam’s mother had filled with sand and dried flowers on an end table somewhere, and they’d emptied it, Courtney suggesting that they select the first two participants by spinning it.

Conveniently, and without any sort of finagling of Willam’s, or strategic flicks from Courtney, or purposeful nudges from Raja, the bottle lands first on Alaska, and then on Sharon.

They’ve been standing in Willam’s locked closet together in awkward silence for two minutes.

“Well,” Alaska says, when she can’t stand it anymore. She can just barely see Sharon’s face in the sliver of light coming through the bottom of the door. “This is awkward.”

Sharon shifts, and Alaska blushes as her hand accidentally brushes the side of Sharon’s thigh, snapping her hand back quickly. Sharon sighs, sounding annoyed. Guilt twists into Alaska’s stomach at the sound. “Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t want this to happen.”

There’s a pause. “Clearly,” Sharon says, and though her voice is light, there’s an edge of bitterness to it that twists into Alaska like a knife.

“I’m being serious,” she says, desperate to make Sharon at least understand that she’s not trying to force herself on her. “I didn’t ask Courtney to kick the bottle like that.”

“I know, Alaska,” Sharon says, and she only sounds more irritated. Alaska winces.

“I’ve been trying to keep my distance these past few days! They just won’t let it go, even though I–”

“I know,” Sharon snaps, and Alaska slams her jaw shut, jumping a little. “You made that perfectly clear on Thursday. I don’t need to be reminded.”

Alaska scrambles to appease her, guilt making her feel ill. “But I–”

She suddenly stops herself, her brain finally processing Sharon’s words and coming up with only a series of question marks. “What?”

“You’re not interested in me,” Sharon says, and she sounds upset. “I get that. But believe it or not, it hurts when someone tells you they can’t stand to think of you like that repeatedly. Especially when–” she cuts herself off, inhaling quickly. Alaska feels hope flutter through her like a butterfly, though she tries to crush it as soon as it comes. What if-?

“Especially when what?” Alaska probes gently, and she lightly touches Sharon’s arm, trying not to let her heart pound too hard as she does.

“Jesus Christ,” Sharon says, but she sounds defeated. “This is embarrassing.”

Alaska’s hope spikes. “Sharon?”

“Only because I can make sure we never see each other again,” Sharon says, voice threatening. “And only because if I’m going to tell you, it’s going to be while we’re playing a game I didn’t think I’d even hear about ever again.” She pauses, and Alaska waits, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

“I have a crush on you,” Sharon says eventually, her voice quiet and a little shaky. “But, only like, a tiny one - it isn’t a problem, I swear. I won’t make it awkward.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, in which Alaska stares at Sharon, numb with shock.

Then, happiness comes bursting in.

Alaska lunges forwards to kiss Sharon, unable to wait for any longer, pure, disbelieving joy flooding her body with adrenaline. Sharon’s lips are soft and warm, and she makes a muffled noise of surprise against Alaska’s mouth, freezing up underneath her hands.

She lightly pushes Alaska away, and Alaska goes willingly, panic shooting through her like lightning. “Sharon, I’m so sorry, that was unc–”

“I thought you didn’t like me,” Sharon says, her eyes wide. “You told me on the beach that the idea was ridiculous.”

Alaska stares at her for a moment, speechless. It’s like Sharon’s just shown her a sports replay where she’d fumbled the ball and then blamed it on the player who’d thrown it to her. “That’s because I was scared,” she says after a moment. “I thought you were disgusted.”

“Disgusted?” Sharon repeats, disbelieving laughter bubbling over her words. “Alaska, that’s possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Rude,” Alaska says, but she’s too elated to really feel it. She’d been so stupid - Sharon likes her. Sharon has a crush on her. It’s too good to be true.

“So the swimming suits really were working?” Sharon asks, and this time, it’s Alaska’s turn to laugh disbelievingly.

“Were you distracting me on purpose?” she asks, half shrieking, and Sharon grins that bright grin again.

“At first? No. But when I saw how you were looking at me at Raja’s party…”

“Evil!” Alaska cries. “I can’t believe I ever had a crush on someone so cruel! I’m–”

Sharon cuts her off with another kiss, and Alaska melts into it, sighing as Sharon’s fingers come up to thread through her hair, somehow managing to avoid its tangles. She slides her hands around Sharon’s waist, pulling her closer so that they’re pressed up against each other, relishing in the feeling of Sharon’s warmth all along her body.

She moans as Sharon deepens the kiss, breathing in the smell of cigarettes and the ocean. She hums, pleased, and Sharon pushes her forwards so that she’s flat against the narrow wall, sliding her hands down, down, down, over her breasts and her stomach and coming to rest on the waist of her jean shorts.

Alaska breaks off the kiss with a gasp, already squirming with pleasure. “Jesus Christ,” she breathes, and Sharon grins, giving her another quick peck on the lips.

“You want this?” she asks, her voice husky, and it goes straight to Alaska’s panties.

“Yes,” she says. “Plea–”

A loud knock on the closet door has them flying apart, and Alaska tries desperately to will the flush away from her cheeks as they hear the lock being undone.

The door swings open, and Alaska squints her eyes against the sudden brightness and Willam’s smirk.

“Seven minutes are up,” she says, looking them both up and down. “Would you two like to request more time?”

“No,” Alaska snaps, just as Sharon says, “Yes.” She flushes at the contradiction.

Willam eyes them smugly. Alaska wants to kill her. “I’ll let you two figure it out,” she says, taking a step back. “There’s chips downstairs for when you guys want to replenish your energy.”

“Fuck off, Willam,” Sharon says, and Willam smirks.

“Sure,” she says, and then she’s out of the room before Alaska can hit her like she wants to.

“I hate her,” Alaska says, and Sharon grabs her hand, giving her a sweet smile. Alaska’s heart melts.

“I love her,” Sharon says. “She’s the reason I can do this.”

Alaska rolls her eyes, although the smile she can’t help splitting across her face takes away its edge. “Fine,” she says. “But I still hate her. I’ve never been so stressed in my life.”

Sharon’s grin morphs into a sly smile, and she tugs Alaska back towards her, arranging her hand so that it rests on her waist. “I think I know a way to relieve some of that.”

Alaska raises an eyebrow, a thrill running through her as she steps closer. “Oh? Do tell.”

“I think I’d prefer to show you,” Sharon says, and then she pulls Alaska in for another searing kiss, and Alaska melts completely.

Thank god for bathing suits, and thank god for Willam.

#rpdr fanfiction #shalaska #background witney #alaska thunderfuck #sharon needles #willam belli #courtney act #raja gemini #freyja #lesbian au #fluff #humor #teeny tiny angst #summer lovin' 2020 #day 1: bathing suit #submission

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