#Hunger Pangs master post
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Do you ever start something as a joke and lose complete control over your life?
In a world of dwindling hope, love has never mattered more...
[read the full blurb here]
What is Hunger Pangs?
Hunger Pangs, often shortened to “Phangs” by the self-proclaimed phangdom, is my debut romance novel, published in Nov 2020, featuring a deaf, disabled werewolf, a neurodivergent, mad scientist vampire, and an all-powerful enchantress who is the last of her kind.
It is the first book in a slow-burn, polyamorous gaslamp fantasy romance series focusing on the relationship(s) and antics of the three main characters, Nathan Northland, Vlad Blutstein, and Lady Ursula, as they work to save the world they love from imminent magical and ecological disaster.
The first book primarily focuses on the relationship between Nathan and Vlad, with Ursula heavily alluded to in the next book (Pride and Folly) via some shameless flirting and stolen, impulsive kisses.
No love triangles here. Just three highly competent, world-saving bisexuals sharing the same brain cell the closer they get to each other.
There are two editions of the novel. The Flirting with Fangs edition depicts on-page sexual acts, and the Fluff and Fangs edition which uses alternative scenes/fade-to-black scenes for those who prefer not to read depictions of sex. You can read more about why I decided to do this here.
How Did Phangs come to be?
Like most things on my blog, the original concept began as a joke. My friend and enabler, @jeneelestrange, and I were talking about our least favorite tropes in romance/erotica, including but not limited to toxic “alpha” werewolves, brooding stalker vampire boyfriends, and the absolute profound bullshit that is the Conflicted Love Triangle and Bury Your Gays.
Eventually, it culminated in this post:
(source)
It was meant to be a joke. I really cannot emphasize this enough. It was meant to be a shitpost between friends.
A throwaway ADHD impulse.
Tumblr, however, wanted more of these posts, and like a swarming mass of drift-compatible rats in a trench coat, grabbed hold of my lack of impulse control and Ratatouille'd me into becoming an international bestselling author, and, well, here we are.
I also started writing the series while dying, which I highly do not recommend as a functional creative process.
Absolutely do not start a 500k five-part novel series about love and hope while dying from an undiagnosed genetic disorder. Or if you do, make sure you actually die so you don't have to edit the damn thing. (I am mostly kidding.)
What are the themes/tropes/character dynamics of the book?
In the simplest of terms, Phangs is a queer-polyamorous-paranormal-satirical-romance series featuring vampires, werewolves, and all other manner of creatures that go bump in the night.
It is set in a pseudo-regency meets fake-Victorian Gaslamp Fantasy world, complete with gothic castles, enchanted forests, and just a smidge of industrial coal dust.
Style-wise, Phangs has been described by readers as "like reading the queer, goth love child of Terry Pratchett meets Jane Austen," and I've never been more proud of anything in my life.
If Game of Thrones ascribes to the idea that the night is dark and full of terrors, Phangs is the monster-fucker politely sidling up to them at the bar and asking if they can buy them a drink.
It is also primarily a love letter to fandom, which has led some people to believe it’s fanfiction with the serial labels filed off. But as the person who spent five years agonizing over the world-building, I can assure you this is all very much the product of my weird little ADHD brain picking up tropes, shaking them upside down, and running off with whatever fun and interesting things shake loose.
As already stated, the first book, True Love Bites, focuses primarily on the relationship between Captain Nathaniel J. Northland and Viscount Vlad Blutstein.
The first part of the book primarily focuses on Nathan coming home injured from war and trying to find his place in the world as newly deaf and disabled -- something which alienates him from his werewolf family, who don't know what to do with an injury that can't be mended by a full moon.
While working on the island of Eyrie, he encounters Viscount Blutstein -- Vlad-- a neurodivergent, mad scientist dandy vampire with an enthusiasm for demonic botany and a streak of unfailing kindness as broad and expansive as the sky.
It's not so much love at first sight for the pair as instantaneous lust hampered by the restrictions of polite 1880 society and old ingrained prejudices that make them think the other couldn't possibly be interested in them that way. They're just misreading all those heartfelt stares and sexually charged chess games.
(The love is requited, your honor, they're just idiots.)
Both characters are explicitly queer/mspec, as is Ursula, who drops into their world like a magical atom bomb going off, but not before she spends her own parts of the book desperately trying to figure out what manner of dark entity is killing the magical shrines around the world that keep the world alive.
Thematically, the series touches on many things, but the book’s overriding theme is love. Romantically, of course, and love between families, both found or otherwise. But also love as an act of courage. As a choice. An act of defiance in dark and troubling times, and what it means to be loved and belong even though you’re different.
Especially when you’re different.
And I really fucking hope you enjoy it.
To read the full synopsis and check out the heat ratings, buy links and content tags, go to www.joydemorra.com
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Collateral 🗡️ 12: Loose lips sink ships
Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.
But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?
PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT
🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon
🗡️ word count: 11.6k
🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+
🗡️ chapter warnings: the return of our favorite gossip girl Felix, graphic descriptions of violence (use of incendiary device to start fire, use of kunai knives and glass to stab & slit throats, use of drugs to force an overdose, smothering), sleep paralysis nightmare, fingering and face-sitting in the garden, joonbug is a real softie, 2seok are up to something.
🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin! <3
🗡️ posted on jan. 2023 | read on ao3
🗡️ note: happy new year, friends! so excited to kick off 2023 with a chapter of my beloved Collateral! this chapter was fun to write, and it is introducing so many things that will be important for the rest of the story. the descriptions of violence in this one are pretty wild, so please be ready!
Light pours into Yoongi's bedroom, and you grumble as you stretch your arms over your head, feeling the final dredges of sleep wash away to wakefulness. The bed is empty, and the light pouring in is still soft with hints of pink, signifying dawn, so you assume that the men had gotten up much earlier and probably will not be back until afternoon.
Feeling hunger pangs in the pit of your stomach, you grumble and concede to getting out of the warmth of the giant, lonely bed, to make your way into the kitchen for something to eat. Perhaps Felix or Changbin will be around to join you—though you still feel put off by the latter's behavior the last time you saw him, you would still welcome his company.
As you push the heavy door open, making your way out into the balcony, you find two bodies sitting on the bench outside your bedroom door. However, neither are the men you expected.
Seokjin sits tall in a burgundy three-piece suit with one leg crossed over the other, holding his phone as if he is watching something on the screen. Beside him, Hoseok is dressed in his standard black garb with his head on Seokjin's shoulder, smiling at whatever he is looking at. Suddenly, you feel exposed walking out in only one of Namjoon's oversized black shirts and panties, and you take a step back to rethink your attire and consider putting on some of Yoongi's sweatpants.
However, before you can make it back into the safety of the master bedroom, Seokjin looks up and, with a grin, clicks his phone off and keeps his attention on you.
"Well, well," he mutters, "if it isn't the wolf cub we were hoping to see."
You rock on your heels, still deciding whether or not to excuse yourself into Yoongi's room, but Hoseok sits up straight, and Seokjin stands, both with their eyes fixed on you.
"Come," Seokjin says, slipping his phone into his front pocket while holding out his free hand. "I have something I would like to discuss with you."
"Oh," you mutter, reluctantly stepping forward and padding over to the men. "Okay."
"Before we begin," Seokjin says, moving into your personal space and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Seokjin wears an expensive-smelling cologne—woody and musky with fruity and floral notes; more feminine than you would expect. "This proposition I have for you...it has to stay between us."
"What do you mean?" you mutter as Hoseok stands before you with a pointed stare.
"We have devised a plan to spy on the rival family," Seokjin says.
"Yoongi's ex," Hoseok adds, though you already know.
"But in order for this plan to work, Yoongi mustn't know."
You hum, already feeling trepidation over doing something behind Yoongi's back that involves mafia activity. Especially considering the Shin family is all the way in Busan; how would they suppose you can spy on them?
"We have a little bird on the inside," Hoseok continues, "but he is afraid to get too close."
"We were thinking," Seokjin says, "that if we could get you into her home, you would be able to get a lot more information."
You shake your head. Into her home? Absolutely not. Not to mention—
"How would we get me into her home without him knowing?"
"Deception on both sides, of course," Seokjin answers as if it is nothing. "Yoongi gets word that you are feeling suffocated and cooped up, and you need to take a vacation. I offer to set everything up—as I am wont to do—and we send you to Busan."
"And Ryujin?" you ask incredulously. "She has already seen my face. How would we get me into her house?"
Hoseok shrugs. "Someone leaks information that you are being abused and need somewhere safe to hide from the Min family. She's a softie; she'll take you."
The thought of framing Yoongi as abusive to win his ex's favor settles like a brick in the pit of your stomach, and you tense in Seokjin's hold, clenching and relaxing your fists at your sides. In an attempt to play it off, you shrug and scoff, rolling your eyes as you glance from Hoseok to Seokjin.
"A softie? She sent men to beat your boxer to death, and to attack Jimin. I would hardly call her a softie."
"Compared to what your hubby does," Hoseok snarls playfully, "that's nothing."
A shiver runs through you at the word hubby. Something about it stirs your insides in all the worst possible ways. Setting that aside, the plan seems foolish. How long do they expect you to feign being on vacation? Getting to know someone well enough to spy on them is something you imagine would take months, if not a year, at least.
"This plan is terrible," you respond, turning away from Seokjin and letting his arm fall away from your shoulder. "I can't imagine I will be able to gather as much intel on her in the timespan of...whatever a getaway is."
Hoseok shrugs. "So we tell him you're on sabbatical."
"It won't work," you insist. "Yoongi is far too clingy for that."
Seokjin hums, and you turn to find him studying you with squinted eyes.
"If I revise the plan and make it more believable, would you reconsider?"
There is a part of you that wants to say yes, if only as payback for what they did to Jimin. But there is no way someone as possessive as Yoongi would let you leave. And even if he were foolish enough not to see through the lie, you doubt that Namjoon would be.
"If it is actually a believable plan then yes, I will reconsider."
Both men smile, and Seokjin reaches to pat you on the shoulder. He shares a knowing glance and says, "Loose lips sink ships," before turning to walk down the stairs.
"See you soon, little cub," Hoseok sing-songs, following close behind.
You sit on the bench outside your bedroom door, feeling the soft upholstery on your thighs, and wait for them to get enough of a head start before making your way to the kitchen. Part of you hopes that Yoongi has been around all along, rendering the whole conversation moot so you can all move on and forget about it altogether. But, when you finally do make your way downstairs, toward the kitchen, the main hall is empty, and the mansion is quiet.
After a small breakfast of cereal and fruit, you walk into the main hall to find Felix at the entrance, kicking off his shoes. You fail to hold back a squeal as you run through the hall, and Felix looks up with a wide smile, holding his arms wide to catch you.
"Hello," Felix beams in his deep voice, Australian accent adding unnecessary consonants—something you have missed dearly.
"Poolside!" you shout as you step out of the hug. "Champagne and catching up! Don't say no!"
"I wouldn't dream of saying no," Felix responds, rubbing a palm over the top of your head as if you are a child. To his credit, you are still running around in nothing but a giant t-shirt and underwear, which seems like something a child might do.
With a mock-offended groan, you swat Felix's hand away and turn, running for the stairs. Although Felix follows behind, his footsteps are much slower, taking his time. You slam your bedroom door open and jet into the closet, tugging Namjoon's shirt off as soon as you are safe around the corner of the walk-in, and fling open a drawer that contains bathing suits.
Grabbing a black two-piece, you hardly give it a glance as you hop out of your panties and into the suit, then you yank the first baby blue sun dress you see from its hanger and unceremoniously pull it over your head, spinning it several times around your neck before your arms line up with the correct holes.
Felix appears in the doorway in swim shorts and a tee.
"I wore the trunks here knowing you would wanna swim," he says as you pad over.
"Of course you did," you mutter in response, delighted by how predictable you are, and the two of you bound down the stairs.
The moment you step outside, the bartender approaches, and you wonder if the poor guy ever takes time off—what must his hours be like? At least he has the wherewithal to leave the open bottle behind right away, saving himself a trip. It only takes two glasses of bubbly before your lips are too loose for your own good—ignoring Seokjin's earlier advice.
"Is the mansion bugged?" you ask as you hold your champagne flute to your lips.
Felix's eyes widen, and he stares unblinkingly for several seconds. "Why do you ask?"
With a shrug, you mutter, "Just curious."
"Are you having conversations you don't want master Yoongi to hear?"
With a scoff, you shake your head and mutter, "Please do not call him that," making Felix laugh.
"On the contrary," you continue, "I may have overheard a conversation that I wonder if he should know about."
You do not want to divulge what Seokjin and Hoseok said to you up on the second-floor balcony, and attempt to separate yourself from the conversation. All good lies come from a place of truth, after all.
"But you don't want to snitch," Felix suggests with a grin.
"Of course."
"Because snitches get stitches."
You chuckle as you say, "So I have heard," then you gulp back the rest of your champagne. Felix finishes his, as well, and takes your glass to refill it.
"No," he continues as he pours, "the mansion is not bugged, save for the dining halls, I believe—rooms where meetings with outsiders may take place. But, as far as I know, those systems are only switched on when needed."
You nod and accept your full glass, taking a sip.
"Yoongi trusts his men implicitly. So if the conversation you overheard was between two of them, then you may want to sow some seeds of discontent, making Yoongi investigate on his own. Or record any future conversations they may have."
"Do any of the family men need Yoongi's approval to enter the mansion when he's not here?” you ask, eager to sway the conversation.
Felix shakes his head. “The family men have twenty-four-hour access. And the retina scanner pings Yoongi’s phone so he always knows who is coming in and going out.”
“I suppose you also have access, since your room is upstairs.”
Felix blinks at you several times as if confused, then chuckles and shakes his head.
“We only occupy that room when Yoongi wants constant watch over someone. Changbin and I live elsewhere, on a nearby property.”
“Oh,” you mutter. That explains why you have not seen either of them in a while.
“And we do not have constant access. Yoongi sends us a code for the door that changes daily, so we can only come in on days when he wants us to.”
You suppose you should not be too surprised that Yoongi is paranoid even of his security staff. He is, after all, more powerful than even you still realize, but something about it is a bit unsettling…though, what that something is, is hard to put your finger on. You decide, instead, to sway the conversation a bit.
"And the parties that used to take place out here? Which have all but stopped."
"Mostly Jeongguk and Taehyung's doing, as far as I know," Felix responds. "But ever since the whole ecstasy fiasco, they stopped letting people over. And with Jeongguk getting stabbed..."
Felix trails off, and you find yourself biting back a smirk. It is, of course, not funny that Jeongguk got stabbed, but whenever you remember a very exasperated Seokjin carrying him over his shoulder while Jeongguk was high out of his mind, you cannot help but feel amused. He is fine, after all.
"What...was all that about?" you ask, wondering if Felix can even tell you. "Namjoon and I met up with Changkyun once to beat some information out of a couple of guys, but I haven’t heard Namjoon or Yoongi mention it since.”
The surprise in Felix's voice takes you off guard. "Yoongi never told you?"
You shake your head and shrug. "No, but, to be fair, I never asked. And we have had other things come up, I suppose."
After a pause, Felix asks, "Are you sure you wanna know?"
You nod, wide-eyed and eager, and you must really look silly because Felix chuckles and shakes his head.
"The whole thing feels like a scene from a movie, honestly; it was so weird hearing about it that I almost didn't believe it was real. Even while I watched it, myself, it felt too insane."
Anticipation hangs, and you watch as Felix stares at you with a grin. You kick his shin and urge him to continue.
"Alright, alright," he says. "But it gets pretty...gruesome at times. So stop me if you need to."
"I'm a big girl," you tease, "I can handle myself."
"Yeah?" Felix challenges with a raise of his eyebrows. "Do you know how many men Jeongguk killed that night?"
Until this very moment, you were unaware that Jeongguk had killed anyone that night. You shake your head as your eyebrows knit—the concern written on your face only seeming to delight your friend all the more.
"Fifteen," Felix says slowly, drawing out each syllable.
"Fif—what?"
With an eager nod, Felix takes a gulp of his champagne and begins. "Apparently he had these ecstasy pills that were laced with meth, and he popped two of them, drank down a bunch of whiskey, snorted a pile of cocaine and just went ape shit on a room full of men who were linked to the one guy who ripped him off."
Your mouth hangs around words like who and what and how but nothing comes out.
"I watched the security footage, so everything I am about to tell you is the truth. And you need to believe me when I say it is the craziest shit I have ever seen. At one point, Jeongguk reached into his shirt and pulled out a kunai knife that he twirled on the end of his finger. And over the course of the fight, he pulled out several more, so I don't know if he had like a bandolier of them strapped to his chest, or something."
"Kunai?" you ask in disbelief, and when Felix nods, you add, "Like, from Naruto?"
This makes Felix double over, spilling some of the champagne from his glass.
"Yes!" he shouts as his head hangs between his knees. "Like from Naruto!"
The idea is so funny that you join Felix in laughter; you know that kunai is a real weapon, but you have never actually seen them used outside of television. Of course, the fact that Jeongguk used these knives to at least kill some of the fifteen men is hardly funny, but the visual is just ridiculous. What kind of person is Jeongguk? This is a question you find yourself thinking about often. What goes on inside his head?
"Okay," Felix says, sitting up with tears in his eyes. "I will spare you all of the gory details, but basically, Jeongguk orchestrated a gathering of these fifteen men—including the one who had stolen from him, Jae."
The name Jae rings a bell from when you accompanied Namjoon to beat those two men with a baton.
"They were at some dingy bar that Jeongguk owns, and Jeongguk showed up, told the outside door guard not to let anyone out, and bid the bartender farewell. Then, he hopped over the counter and began constructing a molotov cocktail."
Already, this sounds like a fever dream, and you take a gulp of champagne, feeling tipsiness begin to swirl in your chest and head.
"So," you inquire with a raise of an eyebrow, "he grabbed a bottle of..."
"Vodka."
"Right, of course," you respond, biting back a grin. "Then he shoved a rag into it and what? Lit it on fire?"
"Exactly."
"Wh—" You begin to wonder who in real life, in their right mind, even thinks to do that. But then you remember that Jeongguk was most certainly not in his right mind.
"Then, he hopped up onto the bar with the incendiary and chucked it over the crowd of men so that it smashed against the ceiling, raining fire down on them."
Again, you attempt to ask questions that never form, only finding yourself able to mutter, "That...sounds fake."
"It was honestly incredible," Felix beams, perhaps a little too excitedly. "Fire rained down on these men and they began to panic. Only one man caught fire to the point of needing to stop, drop, and roll, but the commotion it created was precisely the type of chaos that someone like Jeongguk feeds off of.”
You imagine men running around frantically as their hair and clothing burn, and although the imagery is cartoonish in your mind, the idea makes your stomach churn.
“Jeongguk managed to isolate the Jae guy and restrain him to a pipe,” Felix continues. “It’s an older brick building, kind of industrial, with some of the pipes coming out of the walls and snaking back in, and I believe Jeongguk used handcuffs to restrain his wrist. Then, he went to town on the other fourteen while Jae watched.”
“What do you mean by he ‘went to town’ on them?”
“With the kunai,” Felix responds as if it is obvious, then he screws up his face in thought. “Mostly by stabbing the tips into the men’s necks, or slicing their throats open. A couple men attacked with punches, and he would use one blade to punch into their arms, blocking their swings, while advancing with the other kunai into this jugular. Some got headbutted before throat-gauged. It was a mess. At one point, there was so much blood on the floor, and vodka from the Molotov, that a guy slipped and broke his head open on all the broken glass.”
Suddenly, you do not think you want to know how the situation escalated so much that Jeongguk got stabbed. Though, considering he was outnumbered and the floor was covered in broken glass, you can wager a guess.
“One of the details I overheard Taehyung tell was that in his pocket, Jeongguk had a bloodstained mouth guard. Imagine that sight. Jeon Jeongguk, high out of his fucking mind, covered in blood and sweat, wielding kunai knives with this wide, plastic grin. Maniacal.”
“And he only got stabbed once?” you ask incredulously as you remember all the substances in his system while he fought all these men.
“Twice, technically, but from the same guy. He most likely got cocky. He was facing Jae—saying his final words, I assumed, judging by how he stood—and a guy who must have been playing dead before gathered two large pieces of glass and first tried stabbing him in the guts under his ribs, but only really managed to get him between the shoulder blades.”
“And, let me guess,” you deadpan, “he got a kunai to the throat?”
“Two to the stomach, I believe. He was already bleeding pretty badly, though from where, it was hard to tell.”
“And I assume Seokjin found him somehow and brought him home?”
Felix nods.
“Luckily, Jeongguk had the wherewithal to call Seokjin before it all went down and tell him he would need a ride home. Unfortunately for Seokjin, however, Jeongguk failed to mention he had driven his bike into town.”
A scoff rocks through your chest as you try to imagine Jeon Jeongguk—dressed head to toe in his standard mobster black attire with his pupils dilated into black disks—riding a bicycle like a carefree child.
“And this bike,” you inquire, failing to hold back a smile, “what does it look like?”
Felix beams. “Oh, it’s the cutest thing! Mint green with a little brown basket on the handles.”
“You’re lying,” you mutter in disbelief.
Felix shakes his head. “It has a bell and everything! He pulls up to the house and brrring brrrings it with a shit-eating grin.”
Now that is something you would pay to see.
“Wait, so Seokjin brought him back here on a bicycle?”
With a hum, Felix says, “He must have a luggage rack over the back wheel, because Seokjin complained about him sitting behind him, leaning hard into his back while his feet kept slipping from the pegs and bumping into the tires.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Good thing I befriended Jimin and not Jeongguk,” you mutter.
With a knowing grin, Felix leans forward and says, “According to a little bird, Jimin recently orchestrated a murder, too.”
“You’re lying,” you gasp as you chug back the rest of your champagne and begin to refill your glass.
Felix shakes his head and holds his empty glass for a refill, as well. “Well, I think technically, Seokjin finished the job. Jimin is by far the biggest softie of the group.”
"And the least soft one is Jeongguk, I presume?" you mutter jokingly.
Felix's eyes widen, and he says, "That would be Taehyung."
You cock your head to the side, pointing an ear in his direction, as if you may have misheard. "Taehyung?"
A grin tugs at Felix's lips, sending a shiver down your spine.
"Taehyung didn't become a doctor because he likes to help people. He became a doctor because the human body fascinates him, and he enjoys ripping them open. He just happens to be very good at taking care of the select few men he has no desire to rip open. Evidently, the man has a stare so deadly, it makes even Jeongguk cower. But this is all conjecture; we do not dare talk about Taehyung's personal life unless he tells us something directly."
“This is too much information,” you grumble as you top off Felix’s glass and set the empty bottle onto the small table between the heads of your poolside beds.
You definitely want to know more about this situation with Jimin, but after Jeongguk’s murder party, you have heard enough; you cannot even begin to fathom what goes on behind Taehyung's closed door. Instead, you store the information away for later, chug the remaining champagne, and then ask Felix if he would like to swim.
You must have fallen asleep poolside after returning to the padded bed, feeling a little too drunk and quite a bit tired. The last thing you remember is Felix continuing to swim and convincing the bartender to strip down to his briefs and join him.
Although your eyes are open, everything poolside seems strange. It feels muted and still, and although you can hear the gentle sloshing of the water and several distant male voices, you are unable to detect any movement. Like an abandoned movie set, closed up, and left for the night.
A shadow looms over you, and you wonder at first, if you are imagining it. It looks huge—great enough to fully engulf and crush you if it wanted to. You attempt to close your eyes or look away, but you are stuck, paralyzed as the shadow hovers closer and closer. In the recess of your subconscious, you recognize that you are still dreaming and that you need to wake up.
Although you open your mouth to scream, nothing comes out. You thrash and claw at the cushion below, but it is useless as the shadow creeps closer and closer. It does not even touch you—does not have to—yet it pushes the air from your lungs until they burn, desperate for oxygen.
Warm hands touch your shoulders, and you hear a familiar voice.
"Hey, sweetheart? Are you having a nightmare?"
Namjoon—an anchor in a storm—gently pulls you from hell, and you sit up, eyes wide and pouring tears as you gasp for breath. The sun is still up, and although you are in the shade, everything is incredibly bright, causing you to squint. You feel dehydrated—mouth dry with a headache blooming in your temples. A product from day drinking in the heat.
"Fuck," you mutter under your breath, overwhelmed and out of sorts. "How long have I been out here?"
Across the pool, Felix is asleep under one of the awnings, curled up like a child and gripping onto a bottle of champagne. You cannot help but snicker.
"Long enough," Namjoon responds sweetly as he sweeps hair off your seat-sticky face and leans in to place a kiss on your cheek. "Are you hungry? We were thinking about grabbing dinner after a shower."
You do not have to ask who we is, though you do wonder where the other half may be.
With a smile, you nod and mutter, "Sounds perfect."
Namjoon stands and twists, then scoops you up, carrying you into the house. Your sundress is still discarded on the end of the pool bed, but you decide not to bother with it at the moment and curl against Namjoon's chest, breathing him in.
"Did you have a good day?" Namjoon asks, deep voice vibrating from his chest to yours.
"I did until the nightmare," you admit sheepishly.
"Wanna talk about it?"
Concern laces Namjoon's voice, making you feel so giddy, you bury your face into his neck and shake your head.
"Just sleep paralysis."
"Glad I came to find you at just the right moment, then."
Gently, slowly, you press a kiss into Namjoon's skin. Then two. Then three.
"Me too."
Upstairs, you enter Yoongi's room to find his shower is already running. Namjoon takes you straight into the en suite and sets you down beside the sink, then turns to the linen closet to grab more towels. You begin to strip from your bathing suit and tiptoe toward the shower. It feels like ages since you have seen Yoongi—even though you fell asleep in his bed last night—and you want to surprise him.
Namjoon, however, stops you with a firm hand around your bicep.
"Hey Yoon," he announces loudly. "We're here to join you."
"Perfect," Yoongi grumbles, voice sounding uncharacteristically low.
"Best not to surprise a mob boss," Namjoon mutters into your ear, giving you chills. "Even a shampoo bottle can become a weapon."
You clear your throat and nod, forcing a smile. Suddenly, you feel apprehensive to find what kind of mood awaits you. However, when Namjoon steps ahead and pulls the shower doors open, you find Yoongi standing below a stream of water with his head back, rinsing off with a small smile on his lips. Suds fall from his nearly jet-black hair, running down past taut muscle, deep scars, and pretty pale skin.
Yoongi straightens out and rubs the water from his eyes, then fixes you with a soft, happy smile.
"Darling, come," he says with his hands outstretched, and you realize you had been standing and staring from the doorway the entire time.
Namjoon makes his way past Yoongi, grabs a rag, and lathers it with liquid soap. You enter slowly, closing the door behind you, and let your eyes flit between Namjoon and Yoongi, feeling the dizzy, shitty sleepiness from napping after day drinking as you approach Yoongi and let him pull you into a hug under the warm stream of water.
"I only saw you this morning, yet I missed you all day," Yoongi mutters softly against the side of your head.
You chuckle and hug him tight, letting water pool in the space between your cheek and his chest.
"I was asleep," you tease, and Yoongi responds with a soft, "And looking so precious all bundled up."
Seokjin's proposition from this morning comes back and sends a chill through you. The thought of deceiving Yoongi and leaving him feels impossible, and you decide that even if he does come back with a convincing lie, you will turn him down again. And again, and again, as much as it takes.
"I always miss you," you admit quietly.
Yoongi kisses your temple and pulls from the hug, so you drop your arms to your sides and glance up at him, taking in his sullen expression. Even with his lips tugged into a smile, you can see sadness in his eyes, and you reach up to stroke his cheek and neck.
"Everything alright?" you ask softly.
You do not miss how Yoongi's gaze flicks to Namjoon before he glances back at you and gives a smaller, less convincing smile.
"Everything is not alright, but we are working on it."
Dread pools in your tummy, and you swallow a lump that's suddenly formed in your throat.
"Oh."
"Nothing you need to worry too much about," Namjoon says as he begins gently rubbing a sudsy cloth over your back and arms. "Jeongguk and Jimin made a couple of messes that we have to...clean up."
Your conversation with Felix returns, and you nibble on your bottom lip.
"I may have heard something about that."
"Did Felix tell you?" Yoongi asks, voice stern but steady. You worry that perhaps Felix was not supposed to tell you and that he might get in trouble, but as you nod, Yoongi's expression softens. "I was hoping he might. It probably came out a lot more playfully than if one of us explained it. And, although Jeongguk's mess is not yours to worry about, it does affect what happens under this roof, so you have a right to know."
"And Jimin?" you ask before you can stop yourself.
Namjoon washes your legs and taps each ankle so you can lift your feet one after another, making this conversation feel so out of place during such a domestic moment.
With a sigh, Yoongi's gaze falls.
"Jimin found out the man he was dating was sent here by Ryujin to spy on us. Allegedly, according to Jimin, Jiyong said that he stopped performing his duty when he and Jimin got serious, which caused Ryujin to send someone to shake Jiyong down, but rather than following his order, he ended up booking Jimin at Paradise and attacking him. You saw the aftermath of that."
"Jesus," you mutter under your breath. Your heart aches for Jimin—for how he must have felt to find out the man he may have loved was working for the enemy.
"So, Jimin drugged him with the intention of killing him, but he called in reinforcements when it didn't go according to plan."
"Seokjin," you mutter, remembering the smug way he regarded you this morning.
"Gotta hand it to Jimin," Namjoon says as he turns your body to face him and rubs the cloth over your chest and stomach, "his plan was extremely tidy. Mixing triazolam and codeine into cocaine with the intention of forcing an overdose is some black widow shit. I would have just left a bullet in his skull."
The thought of Namjoon shooting a man in the head makes your blood turn cold, and you wrap your arms around your chest.
"What did Seokjin do when he arrived?"
"Smothered him with a pillow," Yoongi answers simply, and your eyes fall to the tile floor. You feel bad for Jimin, who must have been pretty heartbroken to be unable to complete the task without help.
"The men Jeongguk killed are more or less nobodies," Namjoon adds as if to assuage the tension that suddenly hangs. "Only one of them has a family who might come looking, so Yoongi is going to make them an offer and pay them off."
Yoongi adds, "Jimin and Seokjin's target is a little less of a ghost. When word travels back that he was killed by our men, Ryujin may retaliate, so we need to prepare for that. And find out if any of the people who Jimin met through Jiyong can also be bought."
"Sounds complicated," you mutter as Namjoon approaches the line of bottles and squirts more liquid onto the cloth to clean himself.
"It's not, really," Yoongi says. "Men care more about money than pretty much anything else. But, this will take me away for a day or two. I want to meet with everyone as soon as I can, while making a bit of a loop through the city to find out whether anyone may be trying to tail me. Gonna stay at one of my hotels and pretend to lay low."
"Oh," you mutter, turning your gaze from the spot on the wall that you had spaced onto, to Yoongi. "When?"
"According to the terror twins, the brother of the man Jeongguk killed has accepted an invitation to House of Cards tonight at 11 PM. If all goes well, I should be back tomorrow night."
"The terror twins?" you ask, glancing between Yoongi and Namjoon, who both crack a smile.
"It's what we lovingly call Taehyung and Jeongguk," Yoongi says, and Namjoon adds, "Behind their backs only."
You suppose that after everything Felix has told you, the name makes sense. Overwhelmed by the thought that Yoongi could be putting himself in danger by meeting with these people, you wrap your arms around him, pulling an oof from his lips as you slam his chest into yours.
"Darling, I'll be fine," Yoongi assures you as he lifts his arms and gently drapes them over your shoulders. "Namjoon will be here with you. I'm sure that with all the attention he is willing to give you, you will forget that I am even away."
Petulance overtakes you at Yoongi's candor, and you release the hug, giving his chest a playful shove as you pout, "Not funny."
"Alright, no rough-housing in the shower," Namjoon says as he takes you gently by the arms and pulls you into a stream of water to rinse off all the soap that he has so kindly covered you in.
"Let's unwind with takeout and a drink before I go?" Yoongi offers once Namjoon has finished washing himself. You find Yoongi fixing you with a devious grin, and you feel the last of your frustrations melt away.
"Fine," you concede, pouting once more, though less convincingly.
Namjoon is the first to exit, and he dries off, wrapping the towel around his hips, then he grabs a second towel and holds it open for you to step in, draping it around you with a kiss to your forehead. He does the same for Yoongi, and you watch in awe as Yoongi momentarily melts in his hold, then searches for you with a smile.
With several hours to spare, you return to the bedroom, to the large couch while Yoongi and Namjoon exit the room for several long minutes. They return with a bottle of white wine but no glasses, and you pass the bottle around and enjoy slow, sloppy makeout sessions with both men until a pile of Chinese takeout is delivered to the room by a very drunk, very sleepy Felix.
By the time Yoongi has to get dressed and leave, you are back to feeling tired, and you curl against Namjoon's naked chest, doing your best to avoid the erection beneath his towel. Perhaps later, when it is just the two of you, you will work him up again just to help him out.
"Feel free to have fun without me," Yoongi groans against your lips as he pulls you to your feet and kisses you goodbye.
Rather than respond to his invitation, you lean in for a kiss, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with worry.
"Please be safe. Come home in one piece."
Yoongi smiles against your lips.
"I will, darling. I promise."
Namjoon walks Yoongi out, muttering to him while thumbing through his cell phone, and you hang back and pad over to Yoongi's closet for some clothing as a shiver runs through you. Although you are certain that Yoongi has gone on missions that are far more dangerous, you fear for the worst.
The conversation that you, Yoongi, and Namjoon had about love has been playing on repeat, thawing a part of your heart in a way that you never expected it could, and it serves only to ramp up your anxiety. You grab an oversized tee from the section of the closet that Namjoon has begun filling with his own clothing, and a pair of sweatpants from Yoongi's side, slipping into each garment before making your way back to the far side of the bedroom.
When it is the three of you, the size and shape of the dark blue sofa is welcoming—an invitation. But alone, you feel small and uncertain, and you bring your knees to your chest to sit in a ball and move your fingertips along the soft blue fabric while you wait for Namjoon to return.
It does not take long, and when he steps into the room and closes the large doors behind him with a smile on his face, you relax and allow your lips to tug into a gentle smile of your own. You twist and sit high on your knees, resting your arms over the back of the couch as Namjoon approaches.
"Oh, sweetheart," Namjoon drawls, "don't look so worried. Yoongi is in good hands." With a playful raise of his eyebrow, he sits beside you and adds, "And so are you."
"I know," you respond softly, suddenly embarrassed by the surge of emotion that feels almost overwhelming and difficult to parse.
"What would you like to do in the meantime? We can eat some more, watch a movie, go to bed early...I think we have a stash of Jeongguk's molly if you wanna get real weird."
You let out a boisterous laugh, feeling the mood lighten.
"I think I'm good not dipping into Jeongguk's ecstasy stash after the story Felix told me."
Namjoon laughs and shakes his head.
"That shit Jeongguk had sucks. It came from America, laced with meth. The stuff we actually put on the streets and do ourselves is pure, not laced with anything. Just a clean, euphoric high."
That actually does sound nice, and you imagine how adorable Yoongi and Namjoon would be while rolling.
"Maybe when Yoongi is back," you concede.
Namjoon chuckles as he says, "Deal."
"A movie might be nice. I haven't seen anything in ages."
Namjoon reaches for a remote that sits on the small table and turns on the large television that must have been installed on the wall at some point while you were passed out poolside. Every streaming service you can imagine—and some you have never heard of—come up, and you watch as Namjoon scrolls through and chooses one, then surveys the options.
When you finally settle on a film that came out earlier in the year, that Namjoon seems excited to watch, you curl up to his side, suddenly feeling the weight of everything dragging you down. Perhaps you should have opted to sleep, instead.
Namjoon fiddles with some controls that are nestled between the various cushions, causing both your and his sections to recline, with the bottom of the couch becoming an elevated footrest.
"Is this good?" Namjoon asks with his lips pressed to your temple, adjusting to wrap his arms around you. "Do you mind if I stay here and watch the movie?"
"'S nice," you mutter against his naked chest—he still wears only a towel.
Draped over the back of the couch is a soft, tan blanket, and Namjoon grunts quietly as he twists and yanks, making his best effort to grab it without jostling you around too much. Your lips tug into a lazy smile as you wrap an arm and leg over him while he covers the two of you and pulls you close. You do not make it past the opening scene before you are sound asleep.
Briefly, you wake to the feeling of Namjoon slipping out from under you and removing the blanket. You groan from the sudden cold, and from being pulled from your slumber, as Namjoon scoops you up and carries you to bed. The sheet and blanket are cold beneath you as he sets you down on your back, and you roll in toward the center, curling into a fetal position as the mattress dips behind you and Namjoon's warm, strong arm wraps around your waist, cradling your back against his chest.
"Sleep sweet, beautiful," Namjoon mutters into your nape.
"You too," you grumble, drifting back into the dark, warm heaviness of sleep.
You are not sure if you imagine Namjoon whispering he loves you or if he really does, but you think you might say it in response if you were more awake. You think that, perhaps, you could come to mean it the way he wants you to—the way you think you would like to.
"Yoongi expects to return sometime tonight," Namjoon reports as he steps out from the bathroom with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, wearing a plain white tee and black basketball shorts.
You nod and use the palms of your hands to rub the sleep from your eyes, then stretch with a long, deep yawn. Sunlight fills the room, dappled by dark blue curtains, and you let your hands fall to the mattress, to your sides, as you adjust to being awake.
"Alright," you mutter in response as Namjoon leaves the room to rinse his mouth. The sink runs for a moment, and you hear him swish and spit, then shut the faucet off.
"I was thinking maybe we could walk around the gardens today?" Namjoon offers as he returns.
He grins as he climbs onto the end of the bed on his hands and knees and begins to crawl to you, and you cannot help but smile back with affection blooming and bursting behind your ribs.
"That sounds nice," you respond as Namjoon places his arms on either side of you, hovering close and caging you in. He nuzzles his nose against your neck, and you giggle, attempting to push him away with one hand to his shoulder, groaning, "Why are you like this?"
Namjoon chuckles—voice as deep as the ocean—and you lift your shoulder to your chin, attempting to stop his breath and lips from tickling your skin, which breaks out in goosebumps.
"I like you," Namjoon responds playfully, nestling his face deeper into the crook of your neck.
Every nerve is on fire, and you feel jumpy from the sensation. You begin to swat and shove at Namjoon, leaning back, uselessly.
A giggle rocks through you as you complain, "It tickles, you jerk."
Namjoon only presses further, and when you fall back against the pillows with a huff, he hovers over you with a devastating smile before leaning down to slot his lips against yours. Once more, you begin to swat at him.
"I have morning breath," you attempt to say with your lips sealed as tightly as possible.
With a wide, mischievous smile, Namjoon licks a long stripe across your lips, leaving a minty scent in its wake.
"Have some of my mouthwash."
You squeal and attempt to shake your head from side to side as he licks over your lips once more, in the other direction.
"You're a monster!" you shout, giving him one more shove with both hands.
Namjoon collapses beside you with laughter, leaving you to lie dazed, staring at the ceiling ahead with your lips covered in minty spit. In a last-ditch effort to have any control, you swing your arm to the side, smacking Namjoon square in the chest with your palm while you mutter, "What is wrong with you."
Your hand is caught between both of his before you can pull it back, and Namjoon yanks you gently until you comply and roll toward him to settle with your head against his chest.
"You love it," Namjoon grumbles, a vibration you can feel better than you can hear.
You hum in response and close your eyes. Namjoon smells like a fresh bouquet on a spring morning, and you breathe his scent deeply with a smile, muttering, "I guess so," while nuzzling your cheek against his pec.
"Shall we get up and have breakfast?" Namjoon asks with a gentle squeeze of his arms around your middle and a kiss to the top of your head.
"Soon. Wanna stay this way for a little while longer."
"Alright," Namjoon responds, wiggling slightly as if to get comfortable. "We can stay this way for as long as you would like."
A dangerous proposition, you think, as you consider the pros and cons of never getting out of bed again.
Breakfast consists of omelets that Namjoon nearly burns. Despite his efforts, it comes out delicious, and you beam from across the kitchen counter at the blush that reddens his cheeks while you take another bite.
"It is hard to reconcile you being this domestic while also being the guy that beat those two men with a metal baton," you mutter with a mouth full of food.
Namjoon smirks, but something dark, possibly sad, flashes over his eyes.
"I've done much worse than that."
You hum and nod; you suppose he has, but you are not so sure you feel like asking what he means, exactly.
"Does it bother you?" Namjoon asks, sounding somewhat apprehensive.
With a shrug, you say, "I'm adjusting," then take a drink from the large glass of orange juice shared between you. "On one hand, I'm used to the lifestyle. Growing up on the streets, watching people die, finding bodies....killing a man."
The memory sends a chill through you, and you take a deep breath, then continue.
"I thought that I could escape it and make an attempt at a normal life—date a normal dude and all that. But it seems that I was always going to return. Perhaps I was never as far away from it all as I thought I was."
When you lift your gaze to Namjoon, his eyes are on his food, but he does not move to eat.
"Yoongi would have wanted you no matter what," he mutters.
All you can bring yourself to say is a soft, "Yeah."
It is a thought that has haunted you for some time.
No matter how far you would have run, Yoongi would have brought you back to him, if that was his goal all along. If you allow it to, the thought will easily consume you—make you feel suffocated and at a total loss of control. But, as you come to settle into his home and get to know his family men better, you find yourself becoming more at peace with it, as long as you do not allow yourself to overthink.
Better this than living on the streets. And if Yoongi really does come to love you the way he says he would like to, then you will be protected. At least, you allow yourself to believe that there will not be a permanent crosshairs attached to your back—you allow yourself to sleep at night with the belief that his men will keep the two of you safe.
The rest of breakfast is eaten in silence, and Namjoon excuses himself to answer a phone call as you finish up. You decide to clean, taking your time washing and rinsing the handful of dishes the two of you used and placing them in the large metal drying rack.
When Namjoon returns, he seems distracted, but he takes your hand and guides you to the pile of shoes by the front door where the two of you slip into some sneakers, then you walk down the narrow hallway, to the large glass doors that lead out to the garden entrance.
You walk much the same path that you had taken with Felix during your second or third day at the mansion, but it is nice to see everything once again. The statues and fountains feel alive against the backdrop of the clear blue afternoon sky, and birds flit around overhead.
Although the weather is warm, you are glad that you chose to wear a sweater and sweatpants from Yoongi's closet, feeling a slight chill to the air and wanting comfort. Namjoon is in blue jeans, a white tee, and a soft brown cardigan, looking perfectly huggable and not at all like the mobster you know him to be.
"I don't know why I don't come out here more often," you mutter with a sigh.
"Yeah," Namjoon responds. "I used to come out here a lot more, but lately, I haven't found the time."
"Is your home nearby?" you ask, turning to watch Namjoon, who looks to the east, nodding his chin.
"Just over the fence, in the next house over."
A smirk tugs at your lips. "Never too far away."
Namjoon tongues the inside of his mouth and smiles widely for the first time since breakfast.
"Indeed."
"And the others?"
Namjoon points as he explains.
"Taehyung lives behind this garden, and Jimin is just past my house, in between the two. On the opposite side is Seokjin and Hoseok's house, and just past them is Jeongguk. There are small roads that lead to each property so you don't have to exit the gates and use the main road, and they all lead directly to Taehyung."
"Makes sense," you respond, imagining that the doctor would need to be easily accessed.
Gently, Namjoon takes your chin in one hand and strokes his thumb over your lip.
"You're welcome to come to my home any time, you know. I can show you the path that leads there."
You tilt your head down slightly, parting your lips to take Namjoon's thumb gently between your teeth and flick the tip with your tongue. Namjoon groans and bends, standing face-to-face.
"Use your words, sweetheart. What is it you want?"
Until this moment, you had not had anything on your mind, but the gaze in Namjoon's eye is exciting, and the prospect of him putting his hands on you out here, in the garden, appeals to you. You suck on Namjoon's thumb, then release it with a pop.
"I want your hands," you respond sweetly.
"My hands?"
You hum and nod your head.
"What would you like me to do with my hands, sweetheart?"
With a smirk, you say, "I want you to touch me, silly."
Namjoon rolls his eyes and takes you by the hand, pulling you past the Greek statues to a stone bench just inside the shrub maze. He unbuttons his cardigan and shrugs it off, placing it down on the bench and tugging your hand in its direction, a silent order to sit down. Namjoon gets on his knees in front of you and runs his hands up your thighs, sending a shiver through you.
"The one time you don't wear a dress," he teases as he reaches up, slipping his fingers below the waistband of your borrowed pants and pulling.
You angle your hips upwards, lifting yourself off the seat as you allow Namjoon to pull them down, past your hips and thighs. He rubs his hands over your bare skin, up and back down, then begins to pull the garment over your knees. You help expedite the process by lifting your right leg and pulling your foot free, and Namjoon leaves the sweatpants around your left calf.
Namjoon stands and joins you on the bench, pulling your right leg over his lap and rubbing his hand up your thigh. Between Namjoon's touch and the gentle breeze, goosebumps break over your skin, and a shiver tingles down your spine.
"Is this how you want me to touch you?" Namjoon asks, leaning to brush his lips across yours.
You let out a soft, satisfied sigh and close your eyes, nodding your head.
"This is a good start."
A deep, sweet chuckle ghosts warm breath over your skin.
"A good start, you say? What can I do to make it better?"
"Touch me higher."
Namjoon brushes the tips of his fingers up your thigh and hip, and then higher, under your shirt to circle your belly button. You huff a scoff of frustration and amusement, and shake your head.
"Lower," you whine, "in the center."
With a deep hum, Namjoon nuzzles his nose against your skin as he moves his hand down, over your panties, leaving featherlight touches across your labia. The gentle contact makes you whine, sending a rush of arousal through you.
"Namjoon, please," you moan, spreading your legs further.
"Use your words, baby."
A shattered exhale leaves your lips, and you tilt your cheek toward his face, suddenly feeling shy to voice what you want.
Your voice is soft and weak as you beg, "Touch my pussy, daddy. Please."
"That's my good girl," Namjoon groans as he presses against your clothed lips and rubs his fingers up and down.
The wave of pleasure that rushes through you is abrupt, and you arch your back, moaning and shuddering from the sensation. Namjoon twirls his fingers over you several times, then he drags his hand up slowly and pushes it past the waistband of your panties.
"Does my baby like the way I touch her?" Namjoon asks as his fingers separate your lips and graze over your clit, down to your entrance, and back up, slick with your arousal. It feels heavenly, and you nibble on your lip and whimper.
Namjoon's voice is stern and low.
"Be a good girl and use your words."
"I love the way you touch me, daddy."
Namjoon spins his fingers over your clit in slow, steady circles, building you gradually as heat flushes over your skin.
"I'm dying to taste you, baby," Namjoon groans, sucking a spot gently into your skin and licking over the mark. The sensation of him teasing your neck makes you tremble and moan as you imagine that talented tongue between your thighs.
"Then taste me, daddy," you gasp.
Namjoon's hand leaves you, pulling from your panties and letting the elastic waistband snap gently against your skin. You whine, desperate for his touch once more, but he moves your leg away from his lap and gives your hip a gentle slap.
"Stand up," Namjoon instructs, and you sigh as you follow his order, watching as he stands, picks up his cardigan, and rolls it into a little ball, then places it on one end of the stone bench. Namjoon sits, then lays back with his head cushioned by the shirt, and pats his shoulder with one hand commanding you to, "Sit."
"Sit?" you ask incredulously.
"On my face," he specifies with a raise of his eyebrows.
You approach and swing your leg over the bench, kneeling on the cold stone as you place your hands above either side of his head and lift your other leg. Yoongi's sweatpants dangle from your ankle, and you reach down to yank it free over your sneaker, then lift your leg, hovering above him.
Namjoon places his hands on your ass and pulls you forward, craning his neck as you settle, and lapping his tongue against you. His tongue is warm and wet, instantly building your arousal once more, and making you moan. One hand slides away from your ass, reaching between your legs to press two long fingers inside you.
"Fuck," you moan, feeling your arousal rapidly build from the stretch. "That feels so good, daddy."
With a deep, muffled groan, Namjoon licks hungrily at your pussy as his fingers steadily pump in and out. Your hips tremble and gently grind against him as he alternates licking and sucking your clit.
Yoongi's voice pops into your mind, teasingly groaning, "So easy," as you feel yourself quickly reaching the precipice of pleasure.
"You're gonna make me cum, daddy," you whine as your hips grind a little harder. "Please don't stop."
Namjoon picks up his pace, fucking his fingers into you relentlessly, and you begin to dissolve, vibrating from head to toe as the dam breaks. A sob rips through your chest as you peak, orgasm pulsating through you, and Namjoon does not slow down, pulling wave after wave out until you can no longer take it and begin to shutter from overstimulation.
"Please," you whine. "It's too much, daddy."
As his fingers and lips slow, you continue to tremble, feeling sensitive and fucked out. As soon as Namjoon pulls completely out, you sit on his chest and lean forward on your hands, caging in his head.
"You're so good to me," you purr as you attempt to get your bearings enough to stand. Namjoon lays patiently as you slide haphazardly, placing one foot on the ground and swinging over the other.
"Of course I am," Namjoon finally responds as he sits up.
You gather the sweatpants and step out of one shoe and into the leg hole, sliding into the shoe as your foot breaches the end, then repeating with the other side, wiggling your hips as you pull the pants up. Then, you approach Namjoon, slotting a leg between his and grabbing his face as you bend to leave a soft, chaste kiss.
"I like you a lot, Joonbug," you mutter against his lips.
Namjoon wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, licking into your mouth with a moan. You melt against him, tasting heady hints of your release.
"I like you a lot too, sweetheart."
"Let me take care of you?" you ask sweetly, reaching for his erection, but he shakes his head softly and says, "Later. This was just about getting you off."
You tilt your head back to get a look at Namjoon, endeared by his soft gaze and dimpled cheeks.
"Show me your house, then? I want to learn more about you."
With a grin, Namjoon nods and says, "Let's go."
Namjoon stands and takes your hand, lacing your fingers between his.
"If we continue past this part of the garden, there is a path that leads from Tae's property to the backs of the homes, but I want to show you the more direct road from the mansion."
You hum and nod, following Namjoon's lead through the garden the way you came. Just before the driveway, there is a path that leads through trees and a clearing in the garden wall, which opens to a wide gravel area that narrows into a road. With each step, the earth crunches, and you take a deep breath, letting out a contented sigh, holding Namjoon's hand while you walk in comfortable silence.
As you continue down the road, a large brown house comes into view, partially surrounded by trees. While the home is smaller than the mansion, it is still far too large for just one person, and you frown as you imagine Namjoon returning here alone in the past, knowing he would rather be in the mansion, with Yoongi.
"Once you've been in my home, you're more or less been in them all. They were built from the same mould. Except for Taehyung's place."
"Is his bigger?"
Namjoon hums. "His is massive. It might even be larger than Yoongi's place."
"Why?"
With a chuckle, Namjoon gives your hand a gentle squeeze. "Discussing Taehyung's personal life is something I do not allow myself to do. But I will just say that the man has some interesting hobbies, in addition to his various examination and surgical rooms."
"Not cryptic at all," you tease.
Felix's words return, and you shudder at the thought of him ripping people apart in his big, state-of-the-art hospital-slash-mansion. You hope that he was trying to intimidate you by exaggerating.
Namjoon's property is surrounded by various trees and bushes, and he has a garden of his own, though it is much smaller, with more greenery and fewer statues, on the side of the house. A large black sedan sits outside the garage, looking identical to those the rest of the family men drive, and you wonder if his Porsche is inside the garage.
As you approach the large, brown two-story home, Namjoon releases your hand and steps up to the thumbprint and retina scanner, then punches in a long code before his front door clicks open. You follow his lead inside, sliding your shoes off beside his large, chaotic shoe stash. A set of stairs lead up along the nearby right wall, and the house opens into a large living room, with what appears to be a dining area past the stairs, to the right.
Namjoon takes your hand in his once more and leads you into the living room. Everything is earth tones, reclaimed woods, and leather, and you are pleasantly surprised by the number of paintings and sculptures he has displayed throughout the space. One cozy brown leather chair is surrounded by a large pile of books, and he has a small stack of art and photography books on his coffee table.
"I don't know why I'm surprised to find all this art, considering our museum date," you tease, turning to Namjoon and finding his gaze soft and sweet.
Namjoon smiles, giving your hand a delicate squeeze.
"We should do that again, sometime. Minus the torture pitstop."
"Yes," you agree with a laugh. "We can skip the torture next time."
Gently, Namjoon tugs on your hand, pulling you toward him, and you step in close, rubbing your palm over his soft brown cardigan. The room smells of his musk with earthy hints from the many plants that sit atop furniture and shelves, and it feels much more like home than Yoongi's mansion.
"It's been so long since I've brought someone here," Namjoon says, gently taking your chin in his free hand. "It feels nice letting you see me a little bit more."
"It's nice being welcomed to see you a bit more."
Namjoon leans forward, and you tilt your head up, expecting a kiss, but he leans and rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes with a smile.
"I like you a lot."
Your tummy does a swoop, and you wrap your arm around his neck, playing with the hairs on his nape, and give his hand a tight squeeze.
"I like you a lot too, Namjoon."
When Namjoon opens his eyes, his expression is hungrier, and he tugs his lips into a smile. Then, he drops his hand from your chin and stands up straight, eyebrows knitting as he reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, which is vibrating. One glance at the screen, and he answers the call.
"Yoongi-hyung."
Excitement and anxiety pool in your tummy at the mention of Yoongi, and you watch Namjoon as his gaze flits to you, then he nods his head.
"She's with me. We were walking through the gardens and I decided to show her how to get to my place. … Nah, I was just about to give her a tour and bring her back home, but we can cut it short and come back now. … Sounds good, I'll see you in a bit. … I love you too."
He does not take his eyes off you as he ends the call, and you feel another more powerful swoop in your guts when he speaks those last four words. Heat rises to your cheeks, and you do your best to hide how affected you are by it, keeping your expression flat while he slips his phone back into his pocket.
"He's home much sooner than expected; shall we head back?" Namjoon asks, leaning in to slot his lips against yours.
You reach for Namjoon's shirt, just above his pec, and gently gather the fuzzy material between your fingers as you lean into the kiss and let out a groan of satisfaction. Even the faintest kiss from Namjoon is so sweet and soft, filling you with warmth and adoration, and you lean into him, letting your lips slowly open and close against his—languid and saccharine.
When Namjoon releases the kiss, you open your eyes with a smile.
"I suppose we shall."
He nods as he says, "I'll give you a tour next time."
Namjoon leads you back to the front entrance, and you slip on your shoes, lamenting having to go back so soon, but eager to see Yoongi. It hasn't been long since you said goodbye, but you find yourself missing him more and more whenever he is away.
The walk back to the mansion is quiet, and Namjoon holds your hand as he hums softly to himself. You enjoy these calm, peaceful moments with him, and gaze around at the Japanese maple trees that line the area. Soon, their leaves will begin to change and become a pretty bright red.
Rather than taking you back toward the garden, Namjoon leads you along a path that opens by the driveway. Leaning against the garage door is a mint green bicycle with a brown basket on the handlebars and a slender luggage rack over the back tire, and you smile to yourself, knowing that it is undoubtedly the bicycle that Felix had described.
"Ah, Jeongguk is here," Namjoon mutters. "I wonder if that means Taehyung is, too."
"Do they often travel as a pair?" you ask.
Namjoon clears his throat and gives your hand a squeeze before releasing it.
"Sometimes."
As you approach, the front door swings open, and Seokjin walks out, dressed head to toe in black and tapping a pack of cigarettes against his palm. When he turns and meets your gaze, he grins.
"My, what a pleasant surprise. And just what were the two of you up to?"
Although you are sure all of the family men must know about the state of your relationship with Namjoon, you feel anxiety bubble under Seokjin's scrutiny.
"Going for a walk," Namjoon responds.
Seokjin hums and nods his head, then pulls a cigarette from the pack and places it between his lips. As he fishes a lighter from his pocket, you and Namjoon step past, into the door, which has been left open by a crack. The main hall of the house is empty, but you notice movement out by the pool. You step out of your shoes and wait for Namjoon to do the same, then follow him toward the back door.
"Ah, there you are," Yoongi calls from the top of the stairs as soon as you are near the landing, and you turn to find him smiling widely with his hair wavy and overgrown, wearing a black tee tucked into black slacks.
"Going to change," Namjoon mutters to you, leaving a kiss on your forehead. "I'll be back."
Yoongi begins to make his way down the stairs as Namjoon walks up, and you stand and watch as they meet in the middle with Yoongi one step higher and slightly towering above Namjoon, smiling as he pulls him into a kiss. They mutter between them, then Yoongi continues down as Namjoon walks up, in the direction of the bedroom.
"Darling," Yoongi calls sweetly, opening his arms as he reaches the final steps.
You approach, and once he is on level ground, you wrap your arms around him, burying your face against his shoulder as you squeeze him tight.
"Miss me?" Yoongi rasps, deep and oh, so sweet.
Your voice sounds breathy as you respond, "I did," releasing the hug just enough to gaze up into his eyes. "How did everything go?"
There is a twitch in Yoongi's jaw that almost goes unnoticed, and when he responds, "I handled everything," his tone is completely changed.
"I'm glad."
Footsteps come from upstairs, and you look past Yoongi to find Namjoon dressed in his standard black button-up and slacks. Yoongi draws your attention with a kiss to your temple and an invitation.
"How would you feel about joining us at a gun range?"
The question feels somewhat random, but it is something that has crossed your mind, especially living in this house with the goings-on that take place.
"Alright," you respond, clearing your throat, which suddenly feels dry. "That would probably be a good idea."
"Taehyung, Jeongguk, and I used to go on a fairly regular basis, and we have been discussing starting up again, this week. I talked to them about having you tag along and they seemed receptive to it."
You are unsure if going to a shooting range of all places with the terror twins is an exciting prospect or a frightening one, but you do not argue. You are certain that Yoongi wouldn't intentionally put you into a dangerous situation, but being that you do not know either of them very well, you have no idea what to expect.
The glass door leading out to the pool slides open, and you turn to find Taehyung entering shirtless with his wet hair swept off his forehead and a big white towel wrapped around his hips. He looks stunning with his sly boxy smile and the droplets from his hair streaking his golden skin.
"Are you excited for tomorrow?" Taehyung asks with his gaze fixed on you.
You hum and turn to Yoongi, who says, "I thought we would start shooting right away."
"Oh," you respond, eyes wide as you look back to Taehyung, who asks, "Have you shot a gun before?"
You nod; you have done shooting practice with cans and other trash, but never had to put a bullet through another person. "I have, but only a little."
"Good," Taehyung says with a smirk. "I can't wait to see how you handle it."
Yoongi gives your shoulder a squeeze, and you attempt to keep your breathing level and steady, but there is something in those sharp, cold eyes of Taehyung's that unsettle you. You glance past Taehyung through the doors to find Jeongguk standing, towel-drying his hair with a deep, unmistakable frown, and you force a smile, swallowing down a ball of anxiety as you turn back to Yoongi.
"C-can't wait."
(Mm-mhm)
숨을 내쉬고 뱉어 like (Mm-mhm)
Breathe out and еxhale like like (Mm-mhm)
경계를 넘어서 like (Mm-mhm)
Bеyond the boundary like like (Mm-mhm)
내 품에 널 안아 like (Mm-mhm)
Hold you in my arms like like (Mm-mhm)
다른 생각은 하지마
Don’t even think about other things
🎵 visit the playlist
are we having fun? i am so sorry the updates continue to be spread out, but i am not undertaking so many side projects this year, so hopefully we can get this story wrapped up in the next three or four months. i am excited to show you more of taekook. they are a trip!
as always, please don’t be a silent reader! feedback & reblogs do so much to help content creators! and likes are always appreciated.
a seokjin pov scene takes place during this chapter, where we follow him through a typical day. you can access his pov here (or learn parts of it in later chapters from the reader’s perspective!)
tag list: @afangirllikeme-blog, @angel-121, @artgukk, @btsiguess-kpop, @bts-ficreviews @che-er-ful, @codeinebelle, @dasexydevitt13, @giriiboyy, @illnevertrustmyselfagain, @jalexad, @kissme-ornot, @leanimal90, @likeshatteredrainbowglass, @m1sss1mp, @mayeolorie, @mwitsmejk, @openup-yourmind, @sleepilysworld, @stocking221, @spookyminyunki, @thirstyforjoon, @valhallawhispers 🗡️ comment or dm to be added!
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Collateral is copyright 2022-2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved. Don’t be a silent reader!
#yoongi smut#yoongi fluff#yoongi mafia#namjoon smut#namjoon mafia#namjoon fluff#yoongi x reader#namjoon x reader#yoongi x namjoon#bts smut#bts fluff#bts mafia#bts poly#fic: collateral#Spotify
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My brain is melting, but thank you for all the messages and traction on a post that was honestly meant to be me just bitching into the void about Amazon. Again.
I wasn't expecting it to get that many notes.
For those asking, here is the master post for all the Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites buy links.
You can also read here about what Hunger Pangs is here.
Both are linked in my pinned post at the top of my blog for ease of access.
Also thank you to everyone buying from my Payhip or dropping a few dollars into my Ko-fi. I'll make sure Holly Mop gets some extra treats this month.
Anyway. I'm going to go back to writing. This camp nano month isn't going to write itself.
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2022 Author’s Notes
A yearly-sum-up of my personal thoughts for my written works in 2022 (ones with chapters updates count too), my own personal tradition. All of the fic I listed can be found on my AO3.
JANUARY
Red Courage - a FE3H Claude/Edelgard AU fic
My 2021 Nagamas gift fic, basically grabbing all the ideas I had for this ship pre-release but then had abandoned after playing the game (and seeing how non-interactive the lords are towards each other). These two getting married would be quite the political power couple, but I admit within this fic I also was explore a no-TWSitD AU focused on how 3H’s plot could’ve happened anyway, with just human greed...and well, Adrestia’s gross patriarchy. I’m rather pleased with the result and even and am casually working on a sidequel that follows what Dimitri and Dedue’s time in Alymra was like.
FEBRUARY
Human, Weapon - a FE14 Beruka backstory fic
Written for the Les Revanants horror zine, one of my first outright horror attempts, Beruka’s past provided some good fodder to explore. I feel like FE has a lot of solid examples of disquieting ex-child-soldiers, usually children forced to act as assassins, ect, and it obviously having lost lasting negative impacts of their personal growth and expressiveness. Beruka is one, though her backstory is only hinted at in supports- we know she killed the master who’d trained her.
APRIL
Chains We Forge - a FE14 post-Conquest bad end AU
The hostage fic I wrote inspired by @flutterbatwrites‘ Bad End AU for Conquest in particular. The too long awaited update, wherein dad-tyrant!Xander makes his appearance. I had a LOT of fun depicting all the fankid princes and how they might get make mischief. Still a last update to make, I promise I will and hopefully soon-ish.
MAY
Enlèvement - a FE3H Dimitri/Annette fic
Ship fic cowritten with @mrmissmrsrandom, this verse spun out of Fleckerl‘s continuity and we’ve got a whole bunch of ideas. This one’s mostly cutesy speculation on how Dimitri and the Annette’s crushes on each other might’ve gone.
Kitchen Box Step - a FE3H Dedue/Mercedes fic
Cowritten with @mrmissmrsrandom with more speculation on post-war politics within a Dimitri ruled Faerghus- but this time with fankids! And not just Duecedes kiddos, but also some royal bastards left behind by Rufus (in our party-prince headcanon, cooked up before Hopes shattered these dreams). All the characters we’ll be feature more of in this verse, which is just very fun to sandbox in.
JUNE
Hunger Pangs - a FE16 ABO childhood fic
Prequel to Sense of Taste, where it’s mostly the Faerghus four being cute kids and sfw. I’ve notice the trope very rarely ever deals with questions of like, what it’s like pre-puberty with all that presentation weirdness. And then I’m once again wasting Faerghus headcanons by sticking it somewhere no one will read them. I think there’ll only be 3 more chapters, though I have more ideas for the verse- like Dedue’s claiming and a SoT sequel.
NOVEMBER
Course de Danse - a FE3H Dimitri/Annette academy fic
All our academy-set ideas for this ship, this collection will be pretty solidly G rated as a rule...aside from maybe an off-color joke or insinuation or two. As much as I don’t personally like Byleth-as-teacher or school as an FE game focus, it is fun imagining all the Fodlan kids interacting as students. Also co-authored with @mrmissmrsrandom
DECEMBER
Quartet’s Common Time - a FE3H Annie/Mercie/Dedue/Dimitri fic
This is the big polyam smutfic, with a very small nod to Faerghus politics. The first couple chapters will have more f/f and m/m action, but there will be a sweaty pile on. I suppose for any interested, look forward to when @mrmissmrsrandom and I post more next year!
Ongoing IRL stuff from last year INTENSIFIED this year, which REALLY threw off personal project free time. But with @mrmissmrsrandom‘s cooperation, we got a lot of fic we’d had on the shelf posted. Although with Engage right around the bend, don’t think we’ll get all out FE3H ideas up before that next FE entry is out. Silver lining, maybe the Fodlan fandom can chill out :v
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Sunday Firesides: Life Is for Living
In the classic Aesop’s fable of the ant and the grasshopper, the ant works through the summer, storing up food for the winter, while the grasshopper spends his days making music. When the colder months arrive, the grasshopper starves, while the ant lives comfortably off his cache.
Yet, one does wonder if the ant did not experience another kind of hunger himself — pangs of yearning for all the warm, sunshine-filled fun he missed while toiling underground.
Frugality, a drive to accumulate resources and a reluctance to spend them down, makes for an excellent approach to economics, to budgeting and household management. But as a life philosophy, as an overarching ethos, it is greatly impoverished.
While parsimoniously focusing on building one’s security and preparing for a potential rainy day can be prudent, it can also lead to the worst kind of waste.
Vacation days held onto, in case they’re needed, until the arrival of the new year, when they disappear forever.
An expensive sweater rarely put on, to make it last, until after only a few wearings, it goes out of style.
Expressions of affection carefully rationed out, to not take a romance too fast or spoil a child, until the relationship turns to ashes.
Retirement savings hoarded up, until the account holder dies, right along with his dream of traveling the world.
Living a flourishing, fulfilling life requires mastering the balance between some of the most difficult tensions of human existence.
Anticipating a coming winter, without neglecting to bask in the glow of an eternal summer.
Cultivating the field of one’s resources, without waiting until after the harvest to start enjoying its fruits.
Laboring with insect-like industry, without becoming a music-deprived drone.
Compiling one’s reserves, without ever forgetting that —
Money is for spending.
Clothes are for wearing.
Love is for giving.
Life is for living.
The post Sunday Firesides: Life Is for Living appeared first on The Art of Manliness. http://dlvr.it/SpMRQw
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Conquer Your Fitness Goals: Master the Art of Diet While Training
As an experienced personal trainer, I am often asked: "What is the secret to a successful fitness journey?" My answer, invariably, is: "A synergistic blend of regular exercise and balanced diet." Today, I will take you through a detailed guide on how to maintain an excellent diet while training. This information-rich post is designed to boost your fitness journey with strategic dietary choices, all while making it an enjoyable ride. So let's dive in!
Section 1: Understanding the Building Blocks of Your Diet
1. Decoding Macronutrients
Understanding the role of macronutrients - proteins, carbohydrates, and fats - is the first step towards dietary success.
Protein: Vital for muscle repair and growth. Ideal sources are lean meats, dairy, legumes, and plant-based proteins for vegans.
Carbohydrates: The fuel for your workouts. Choose complex carbs like whole grains, fruits, and vegetables.
Fats: Essential for hormone production and nutrient absorption. Opt for healthy fats from avocados, nuts, and seeds.
2. Micronutrients – The Unsung Heroes
Micronutrients are just as crucial as macronutrients. Vitamins and minerals boost your immune system, bone health, and energy production.
Vitamins: Incorporate a colorful array of fruits and vegetables to ensure a variety of vitamins in your diet.
Minerals: Dairy, lean meats, nuts, seeds, and dark leafy greens are excellent sources of necessary minerals.
Section 2: Mastering Meal Timing
3. Pre-workout Nutrition
Fuelling your body before a workout ensures you have enough energy to power through.
Timing: Aim to consume your pre-workout meal 2-3 hours before training.
Food Ideas: A balanced meal with complex carbs, lean protein, and a little bit of healthy fats works best.
4. Post-workout Nutrition
Post-workout meals aid in recovery and muscle growth.
Timing: Try to eat within 45 minutes after your workout.
Food Ideas: Focus on protein for muscle recovery and some carbs to replenish energy stores.
Section 3: Hydration and Supplements
5. Importance of Hydration
Staying well-hydrated is a non-negotiable part of any training regime.
Before: Drink at least 500ml of water 2-3 hours before your workout.
During: Sip on water every 15-20 minutes during exercise.
After: Rehydrate post-workout to replenish lost fluids.
6. Navigating the World of Supplements
While a balanced diet should cover most nutritional bases, supplements can provide additional benefits.
Protein Powders: Can support muscle recovery when consumed post-workout.
Creatine and BCAAs: These can potentially improve workout performance and recovery, respectively.
Multivitamins: Useful when your diet lacks certain micronutrients. Consult a health professional before starting any supplements.
Section 4: Listening to Your Body
7. Understanding Hunger and Fullness Cues
Listening to your body's signals is key to maintaining a good diet while training.
Hunger: Don't ignore hunger pangs. It's a sign that your body needs fuel.
Fullness: Stop eating when you're comfortably full. Overeating can hinder your fitness progress.
8. The Power of Rest and Recovery
Recovery is just as important as training and nutrition.
Sleep: Aims for 7-9 hours per night for optimal muscle recovery and growth.
Rest Days: Schedule regular rest days to allow your body to heal and strengthen.
To sum up, maintaining a good diet while training is not just about what you eat, but also when and how you eat it. Remember, everyone's body is unique, and what works for one person might not work for another. Listen to your body, make mindful food choices, and enjoy the journey to your fittest self!
Remember, your fitness journey is a marathon, not a sprint. Happy training!
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Unseen, a fic for @theronshanweek-official.
Prompt 1: Childhood. Words: 1060, rated G, on Ao3 also.
Theron Shan sat on a low wall circling a civic garden. His feet were flush to the ground, his hands resting on his lap. He took a deep breath and paused for a count of three before exhaling slowly. Here, in the upper levels of Coruscant, the air was clean. Not as clean as the air of the training grounds where he’d spent so much of his life. That time, those places might as well be worlds and lifetimes away.
Focus, Theron, he chastised himself.
He repeated the process–an old, familiar exercise that Master Zho had taught him so many years ago–while keeping his eyes open, his senses still on alert. Calm awareness. Alertness without a nagging urge to act on something, anything. It wasn’t quite meditation–more, a meditative observance of the world going about its business around him. Theron might not be in a remote and serene land but the Force flowed around him just the same in a bustling city setting as any idyllic scene.
He catalogued his sensory input, not letting himself focus on any one thing for too long. Like a busy insect flitting amongst flowers in a garden, Master Zho had once said.
Permacrete walk circling the garden perimeter is a brighter ivory than the main throughway. Less traffic?
Heavy, shuffling footfalls to my right…slow and ponderous. Ithorian, maybe…
Floral smells in the air–natural, not perfume. There were flower-beds in the garden, white and yellow blooms.
Another scent, fainter. Vaguely savory, spicy. That little street market selling so many different types of foods, busy with the evening meal crowd…
Theron’s stomach chose that moment to rumble and complain. He wasn’t sure when he’d last eaten. The trees cast long shadows over the pristine walkway. When had it gotten so late? He sighed, gazing up at the impossibly ordered flow of traffic above him. Speeders and small craft glinted jewel-like in the fading daylight. There was something about Coruscant sunsets…the rosy-gold light softening the controlled chaos, gilding the planet’s towering structures like precious metals.
Beautiful. At least, if you were lucky enough to be on one of the higher levels where you could actually see it. And yeah, sure, it was all artificial effects from an elaborate weather-control system that Theron doubted many beings really understood, or even thought much about. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t nice all the same.
Another thing Master Zho taught him: the Force flowed through all, its light ever-present, so that there was beauty to be found everywhere. That the old man could feel that way and say such things after the horrors Theron knew he had seen in the many battles he’d fought was something else. Theron’s stomach tightened in a dull pang that had nothing to do with hunger.
It hurt. Thinking of Master Zho, remembering the peace of the Order. He’d had a place there, for a time. Had a family.
I had purpose, even if I always knew I wouldn’t be there forever…Now, what?
Foot traffic on the walk had picked up. Second shift workers, beings headed to the mind-boggling array of cantinas and eateries, people headed home–and none of them paid him any mind. Theron didn’t know if it was years of Jedi training, something about his face and being, or a bit of both. He could be an invisible man or the center of a city square’s attention if needed. Getting through, getting by after losing the only home he’d known had taught him this. Had kept him fed, gotten him shelter.
He wasn’t good enough to stay with the Jedi Order. That whole connection with the Force thing was a bit of a sticking point. But he had skills from that time. He could win just about any fair fight, and come out the better from some not-so-fair ones.. He knew how to shrug off minor wounds using the meditative techniques his master had taught him. He was a survivor. Thing is, surviving wasn’t enough.
As a theoretical Jedi–because theory was all it had ever been–Theron would have served the Force and countless beings across the galaxy. As a…whatever he was now, survivor vagabond savant, there was nothing more. Theron sighed.
There were options. Police or bodyguard posts. Contract work. Not that any of those particularly interested him. Theron glanced up as a large party of well-dressed humans crowded the sidewalk, passing right by him, not one of them seeming to notice his presence. At eye level with the handbag of one of the women, Theron realized: he could easily slip a hand in, or swipe a blade along the bag handles, grab the loot, and sprint away through the garden, unseen. Or conversely, he could drop in a listening device, a tracker, even a device to be remote-detonated.
Who even thinks up stuff like that? Come on, Theron…
Sitting there, unseen, anonymous in clothing nice enough to not catch someone’s eye, but not so nice he looked out-of-league high cred, something occurred to him. Something that made him chuckle aloud where he sat brooding.
Master Zho had taught him much about being unseen. About diffusing situations without being detected so that violence was never even needed. About economy of action if things did come to violence. Surely, someone needed those kinds of skills to protect the Republic. Espionage, covert intelligence, boots on the streets and eyes on major players, the ability to be anonymous or obvious at will.
The perfect makings of a spy.
Theron laughed again, but this time, he didn’t admonish himself mentally or shove away the thought. After all, if he was going to be untethered from the home he’d known, unseen, he might as well make something of it. Theron stood, taking another series of steadying breaths, grounding him in the moment.
The next step was clear to him. He just had to find someone who’d listen. He glanced once more at the sky, now deep vermillion and copper.
Yep, still beautiful, he thought to himself. His stomach growled again, more urgently than before. And still hungry. At least I have the start of a start of a plan.
Theron walked back towards the street market, thinking about the noodle dish that had looked particularly good, sliding through the crowd with ease–agile, graceful, unimpeded by the traffic.
Sometimes it really was good to be unseen.
#Theron shan appreciation week#theron#theron shan#swtor#swtor companions#ngani zho#jedi order#the annant legacy#swtor fanfic#my fic#day 1: childhood#probably not canon#just wanted to daydream about spyboy
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I didn't know it was you who draw this lil sad story about Beel. I a lot of time came across it on pinterest, and I'm really sorry that people don't respect your work, and I wanted to know if I could have links to this post pls
Thank you,I really really appreciate your art have a nice day
The comic is in my master list (which I need to update)... it should be under comics listed as “Hunger pangs”. Thanks so much!!
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(A/N): This fic takes place immediately following book 1 chapter 11 (after being rescued by Sam from Sofia's closet). Not going to lie, I originally posted this monster fic (7000+ words) on Wattpad as a whole (my first fic, I didn’t know better!) so I’ve taken the opportunity to re-write and condense but thought it read better as two parts.
Series/Pairing: The Nanny Affair (M!Sam Dalton x MC Katie Hide)
Original characters - all property of PB: Katie Hide (MC), Sam Dalton, Mason & Mickey Dalton, Jenny Blake, Robin Flores (Part Two only)
New characters: (Present in Part Two) Serena-Rose Warren, Tessa Finch, Lucinda Hansen
Rating/Content warning: 18+ Light sexual language
Word Count: 1880
Summary: Driving home together, Nanny Katie Hide and her boss Sam Dalton get a little hot and steamy after she receives an offer of a night out with the girls.
Find Part Two here.
Part One -
The companionable silence within the car provides a stark contrast to the chaos of rush hour on the streets outside. Sam leisurely meanders through the traffic seemingly taking care not to rush the journey, enjoying a rare opportunity for the two of them to steal a fleeting moment to themselves. With their fingers laced together resting on his thigh, as his other commands control of the steering wheel, she steals a lingering glance in his direction relishing in the flutters which catch in her stomach as he notices her watching him. His lips curl into a comfortable smile in reply of her unspoken affection and it takes all his might to keep his eyes on the road.
In the footwell below her feet the distant hum of a phone, neglected in her bag, buzzing faintly to itself punctuates the quiet once again, as it has been for the last ten minutes. Tired of being ignored, the buzzing transforms into a piercing ring causing its owner to startle and refocus. Untangling her fingers from Sam's she reaches down to collect it, her frustration at being interrupted quickly forgotten when she sees her friend's name on the home screen.
"Finally!! So you are alive!" Jenny squeals down the phone without restraint.
The smirk on Sam's face is unmissable as he recognises the shrill voice on the other end of the phone. Katie returns his glance with an eye roll of her own as she braces herself for an interrogation.
"Ok, ok I get it, I'm here now. What's up?"
"You need to ask that gorgeous boss of yours to give you Friday night off, we're taking you out and I won't take no for an answer! It's about time we had a girls night, we've barely seen you since you've been living it up with that sex god."
Katie winces hoping Sam hadn't heard that last bit, subtlety was never Jenny's strong suit. She knows she doesn't need to consider her answer, just thinking of how much she's missed her friends the last few months sparks a pang of guilt deep in heart. A night free from the drama of fiancés, stolen glances and torturous longing sounds perfect.
"That actually sounds great Jen, I'll try my best to come. Aren't we pushing it to get a spot at any of the good places though if we're leaving it this late..."
Jenny scoffs, feigning disbelief that Katie would think she didn’t already have a master plan. If she wasn’t her best friend she’d feel a little insulted.
"You don't think I'm already all over that?! And I mean literally, I've got Josh on the case for us and I definitely got all over that!"
The smugness in her voice carries her words and Katie can't help but giggle as she pictures how her unabashedly forward friend would've convinced her current flavour of the month Joshua Demarco, to use his connections to get them access to the hottest new bar in town. She'd no doubt that while a few flutters of eyelashes and some kind words would have sufficed, it was more likely that Jen would have insisted on giving him something more in return. And that something would most definitely not have been PG.
As the more outgoing and vocal half of their partnership, Jenny has always had a way of charming everybody she meets, her connection with people is effortless, something which Katie finds both admirable and terrifying.
While some could argue that Katie too could charm and impress people effortlessly, she is undoubtedly more comfortable in the background, observing and understanding how things work before weighing in. She notices the details, picking up on key points of conversation, getting to know people on a personal level and drawing on their connections to help assert herself. Jen needed to be visible at all times, she was like the sun, drawing people in to her warmth and reflecting her own energy back at them in return.
"I'll leave it with you then Jen, just text me with the details and I'll see if I can make it. And I don't mean the steamy details of you and Josh, you can save those to share with me over cocktails!"
Sam's intensely brooding gaze falls upon her, no doubt trying to glue together the pieces of conversation he'd just overheard. She turns to him realising he probably already suspects there’s a further story to be told. They’d not yet shared much about their lives beyond the penthouse but he’d heard enough to know that she could be easily influenced by her impulsive friend.
"Jen I'd better go, speak soon."
Returning the phone to the depths of her bag, she catches Sam's eye, his expression warm but curious, clearly waiting for her to elaborate.
"Would you mind if I took the night off on Friday? Jen's asked if I can meet her and some friends, we haven't seen each other for ages...."
Unsure where the feeling comes from, the urge to say more rushes over her like a wave crashing on the shore. It’s the same as the feeling of nervousness she had that night a few weeks ago at the diner, almost like first date nerves. Perhaps, she realises, they’ve resurfaced because her whole life has been tangled with his for the last few months, she's not really sure how to break out of it and step back into her own, or whether he'll let her.
"Obviously I'll make sure I get the boys dinner sorted, the place tidy, laundry done and get them to bed before I head out....and I won't stay out late, I wouldn't want to cause any disruption....unless you've got any pressing work or meetings which means you'll be home late... I can cancel, I know it's short notice..."
"Woah, who are you, Cinderella?!"
The mirth in his tone instantly relaxes her as she realises he's only teasing. While attempting, and failing, to look defiant her nose inevitably crinkles, unable to contain the laughter bubbling to the surface at the silliness of her outburst. He leans over gently resting his hand on her knee to placate her, stroking her delicate skin with his thumb.
"Of course you should go out with your friends."
"Really?"
"Definitely." He continues, "as much as I would love to keep you to myself I know that you have a life of your own to live too and you, more than anyone, deserve to go out and enjoy yourself."
Sweeping his hand into her own, she gracefully brings it to her lips, tickling featherlight kisses along his knuckles.
"Thank you....but I don't know that you'd really want me to let my hair down if you knew how our girls nights usually play out..."
A wicked smile casts on her lips as she looks at him from under her long eyelashes, she continues to caress his hand, her lips teasing his skin with every word. He struggles to keep his eyes on the road, his mind racing with the many possible indiscretions which he imagines could take place on girls night, especially with Jenny at the helm. The visions in his mind entrance him and he can't decide whether he wishes he was part of them, or that she wasn't.
"I see, a bit of an every man for himself situation is it?!"
He pulls her hand over to his lap where he secures it on his thigh under his own. His hope that by keeping his hand on hers he can keep her grounded to him before losing her to the inhibitions of the impending night out.
"Let's just say it'll be a hot mess of short skirts, high heels, cocktails and getting sweaty on the dance floor."
Realising that the car has come to a stop at a red light she turns to Sam looking him straight in the eye as she slides her hand brazenly up his thigh. She can feel his pants straining to contain what's growing within them while his chest visibly rises and falls more rapidly, struggling to control the pulsing hunger running through him.
"But don't worry, we usually only break a few hearts".
Unable to restrain himself any longer, he launches across the centre console, holding her head in his hands and devouring her mouth with his hungry wet lips. She lets herself fall deeply into his kiss, smiling against him as she thinks to herself that she should ask for time off more often.
The light turns to green and then red again, disgruntled drivers behind sounding their horns in annoyance as the immaculate silver Audi blocks their path, but neither occupant notices as they loose themselves in one another.
Her gentle hands press against Sam's muscular chest, marvelling in the ripples beneath her fingers, before sliding them up into his hair pulling him deeper into the kiss. He keeps one hand firmly at the back of her neck, anchoring her to him while the other roams down the curves of her body, his thumb tweaking a now erect nipple before grasping at her hip.
Intruding on their entanglement, the sound of the in-car phone system echoes around the plush detailing of the car, with 'Home' appearing on the display. Breaking apart in surprise, they finally catch a breath. Sam rests his forehead intimately against hers as he gives the voice command to answer the call and Mason's innocent voice pours out of the speakers.
"Hey dad, are you gonna be home soon? We're staaarving."
It's impossible for Katie not to break into a smile as she thinks about the boys at home with Carter, no doubt teaching him all sorts of tricks which she'd never let them get away with. Sam notices her thoughtful smile and matches it with his own as their minds work as one imaging the same scene. Their eyes once again meet as they resign themselves to the intimate moment being lost, instead committing it to memory to recall again when the urge to immerse themselves in thoughts of each other inevitably come to call.
"Yeah buddy, I've just picked up Katie and we're heading home now."
The smile in Mason's voice is evident as his tone becomes more upbeat.
"Oh great, Katie's with you?...Hey Katie!"
"We missed you today, why'd you have to spend the day with Suck...I mean with Sofia anyways?!" Mickey interrupts, his fear of missing out pushing him to insert himself in the conversation.
Sam and Katie stifle their giggles at Mickey's slip of the tongue, aware of the microphone above their heads. Sam places a soft kiss on Katie's forehead before pulling away begrudgingly as she in turn adjusts her position, smoothing over her now crumpled skirt.
"Hi boys, I missed you too. I was just helping her with some grown up work stuff, definitely not as fun as a day with you monkeys though.”
Much to the relief of the drivers behind them, Sam's already breezing through the now green light towards the penthouse, this time with more urgency as the sky above begins to melt into dusk.
"How about your dad and I pick up some pizza on our way back...."
Without even a moments hesitation the twins excited voices burst through the speakers once again.
"Score!"
Tag List:
@shewillreadyou @txemrn @silma-words @thefrenchiemama @secretaryunpaid @sfb123 @fanjessfic
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please tell me about "latimerhutchinson" and "tiniest jedi master 01"
[In response to this post.]
(And anyone else who would like to ask about a WiP, please do! ^_^)
I don’t have much written for either of these, but they were ideas I was very excited by at the time and part of me still wants to write? ^_^
latimerhutchinson
This was based on two of the schoolboys from the 10th doctor episodes when Ten was a teacher in England during WWI. Latimer was the boy who was just a little bit psychic, and Hutchinson was the boy who bullied him... or tried to, anyway; Latimer always seemed to just shrug it off. And it became clear by halfway through the episode that between them two of them, Hutchinson was not the one in charge. And between the way that Hutchinson came to look up to Latimer during that siege and then later on when Latimer saved Hutchinson’s life during the war, I ended up shipping them more than a little. And I wanted to write something exploring that. ^_^
the tiniest jedi master 01
This is a fic based on @teapirate‘s AMAZING fanart series, in which Obi-Wan is a cat (tag: obi wan catobi); there is also a fanart series where ANAKIN is a cat and all of them can be found in the tag: jellicle jedi n the grand puppy army. ^_^
I REALLY want to come back to this one someday, but it was shaping up to be a MUCH longer fic than I had the brain to write at the time.
And I’m going to tuck both fic behind a readmore, because this is getting a bit long...
latimerhutchinson
Here’s what I have so far (I... warned you it’s not much, right? ;D):
"How did you know that?"
"Who told you that?"
"Where did you hear that?"
"Have you been reading my diary, you little toad?"
"You cheated! You peaked at my cards!"
"It's the touch of the Devil… the Devil!"
Timothy Latimer learned the value of silence, the importance of keeping his head down, when he was very young. He hadn't understood, then, that not everyone saw what he saw, heard what he heard. He'd gotten himself into more than his fair share of trouble over the things he knew before he figured that one out. He was better about it, now. He'd learned to appear… not dull, precisely, not stupid or unskilled, but… ordinary. Tim had learned that he must be something that ran counter to everything he was. He must be… completely average. Then his occasional slip-ups went unnoticed, unremarked upon or at least easily ignored. It was his only protection, his saving grace… and the bane of his existence.
It was far too late to save his reputation at home, of course. There he would always be "that strange little Latimer boy" -- the one who knew too much. If he were to have any hope of normalcy, he needed to get away from his hometown, away from his family, and start fresh in a new place.
the tiniest jedi master 01
“A passenger, you have acquired, Master Jinn. Wondering, I am, where you found this one?”
Qui-Gon moved aside to let Xanatos precede him down the hallway before turning to face the one who had spoken. Master Yoda was standing in the open doorway to his quarters, eyes fixed on one of Qui-Gon’s pockets, a small smile quirking one corner of his lips. Qui-Gon lowered his hand, long fingers stirring through soft, auburn-colored fur, prompting the tiny bundle in his pocket to shift and begin purring in his sleep. “A waystation that was under attack by pirates. This poor fellow was too young to be on his own and no one else seemed willing to claim him. I couldn’t very well leave him, could I?”
Rather than offer his usual quips about Qui-Gon’s tendency to pick up strays while on assignment, Yoda simply reached out one clawed hand for the slowly waking feline to sniff. Quietly, he said, “A great sadness, that would have been. Right, you were, to bring him here. To the creche, he should go.”
“To the creche, Master Yoda?”
The kitten stretched, slowly turned to ease each of his limbs in succession, before letting out a mighty yawn, displaying every one of his full set of deciduous teeth. That accomplished, he promptly turned his head and began to wash, smoothing down whatever fur he had rumpled in the process of stretching. Yoda’s smile widened, his eyes softening in that way they did when he dealt with the smallest of initiates. Qui-Gon remembered that look, well. Before he could remark upon it, however, his stomach suddenly cramped with a fierce hunger pang, one that was severely out of place since Qui-Gon had eaten not an hour before.
Yoda laughed. “Or perhaps, the commissary, your first trip should be. Since slept, this little one has, for most of the day, hungry he clearly is.”
By the time Yoda had finished speaking, the kitten had gotten himself turned around in Qui-Gon’s pocket and begun scaling his robe to perch on Qui-Gon’s shoulder, his tail swishing in wide arcs as he dug his claws in for balance. The hunger pangs took on an even sharper tone, now accompanied by a fierce desire to find something soft and sink claws and teeth into it. It still took another moment for the truth to truly filter in. Qui-Gon turned to eye the fierce feline on his shoulder with wonder. “He’s Force-sensitive.”
It wasn’t unheard of for an animal species to develop a Force sensitivity of sorts, but, now that he was awake and no longer terrified, the strength of this little one’s sendings were even a notch above that. As his feelings of hunger intensified and began to overwhelm everything else he was feeling, Qui-Gon was reminded abruptly of how it felt to be in the creche nursery wing at feeding time.
“No… not just Force-sensitive. You think he’s a sentient?”
Yoda slowly nodded
I hope you enjoyed! ^_^
#eirenical writes things#writing meme answers#wip meme#star wars prequels#qui gon jinn#obi wan kenobi#yoda#qui gon & obi wan#doctor who#snippet#eirenical.fic#lizardrosen#conversations through replies
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RANDOM QUERY WITH NO ASSIGNED NUMBER - what're Ishan and Dayir's fave snack foods and beverages XD
this one is so hard because there’s so much food in FFXIV and I have a bit of a sieve brain and I don’t remember all the delicious and varied dishes when I need to D:
I’ll just do my best here. so, Ishan is primarily a sandwich/pita/empanada kind of person -- he doesn’t get much joy out of the sheer act of eating the way Dayir does, but he does get a lot of joy out of flavour-packed stuffed-to-the-gills meat pies that he can shove in his face while rushing off to his next adventure. he does not eat his vegetables unless Dayir or Y’shtola makes him (okay he’ll eat veggies in a banh xeo but that’s because the inherent goodness of “food in pouch” overrides all other concerns), but he will snatch fruits and berries off trees and eat them as he’s walking. (it’s definitely backfired on him because he doesn’t have the patience to double check and make sure he’s not eating a lookalike berry that will actually poison him, but guess it’s a good thing Dayir’s a healer!)
Ishan has definitely taken an antelope steak and speared it with a fork and then walked away munching on it. he’s also that guy popping a whole boiled egg in his mouth at the entrance to the ruins before lunging forward and pulling the whole dungeon
also, as frequently noted, Ishan is a huge drinker. he always has a flask within easy reach and it’s always full of something strong. but for some reason, he’s rarely drunk and never hungover. it sustains him or something. maybe the aether in booze just hits different (let’s blame Rhalgr and be done with it)
now, when it comes to culinary delights, it’s Dayir you want. this boi will eat anything once, because it’s all about the experience for em. that experience can be as highbrow as a guest chef from Kugane hosting a banquet at the Bismarck or as lowbrow as digging for clams with Momoroto and eating them raw under the shade of a tree. Dayir has big Anthony Bourdain vibes when it comes to understanding culture through cuisine (also has something to do with the aether in the food, like... it has different effects in different places -- nigh imperceptible to the average consumer but very perceptible to someone with more attunement). but also, Dayir is just sensual in general and derives great joy from the experience of consumption -- from the sweet anticipation of hunger pangs as the smell of food wafts towards em, to the sacred first taste, to the sigh of satiation as ey lean back on eir cushions and reflect on the meal just enjoyed. if ey’re in a hurry, or on the run or something, ey just won’t eat. ey’ll drink beverages and ey can be wheedled into eating a meat-on-a-stick type deal if necessary, but Dayir definitely treats eating as an optional luxury that ey will put off until ey can actually enjoy it.
no, it’s not smart xD ey’ve definitely been scolded for it by multiple people, but that’s just the way ey are.
ey’re also not very good at cooking -- like, ey can do it in a pinch, but why would ey do that when part of the joy is watching someone else be a master of the art? to wait in great anticipation for the food to be prepared, and then have it served to you... man, you can’t beat that. Ishan is the one in a noble’s body but I swear Dayir acts like the real dandy here
sweets, rice dishes, and hearty veggie dishes are big faves for Dayir, as well as any flavour duos (sweet/hot, for example) and anything fluffy (souffles, for example) or anything with a “bright” profile. ey love aperitifs and digestifs and any meal with courses (the longer and more luxurious a meal, the better!). I’m saying all this like Dayir doesn’t just love everything that crosses eir tongue (including some things that aren’t food--)
.... oh god when did this post get this long
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Are Fluff or Flirting available in print, and would you get a better deal on those? (Possibly avoiding the whole ebook return cluster fuck, I mean.)
Yep, paperbacks are available and are linked in the Hunger Pangs master buy list on my pinned post.
Unfortunately as I’ve mentioned in other posts, I actually earn less for print editions than I do digital because of the general state of print and distribution at the moment.
Regardless of what a retailer lists the paperback as, I earn roughly a $1.90 after the “cost of printing” is removed. I was warning that before the paper shortages drove up prices and I’m going to have to adjust prices to keep earning it.
Anywhere that lists the book higher than the Amazon prices (varies from region to region) is marking up the price for profit. Which, cool, indie stores need to make profit too, but the elevated price doesn’t affect my earnings one iota.
Like I said, I will be adjusting prices to reflect the… I think it’s the third inflation hike in the industry in the last year, but I still try to price things as low as possible so people can afford them.
I know my audience. Most are disabled and living on fixed income and I don’t want to price them out of being able to afford my work
By contrast, I earn about $3.80 from ebook sales through most platforms (the exception is my payhip where my minimum is usually $4+) So, basically, the ebooks fund the paperbacks and also being able to afford to hire editors and illustrators for any future work. This is why the booktok “hack” of abusing Amazon’s return policy is so devastating.
And let’s be real, here, Amazon’s return policy is awful and absolutely to blame. But the trend of popular tiktokers supporting the exploitation of this predatory practice (and the “hack” continuing to trend after people have pointed out how awful it is) is just… a special form of late stage capitalism hell.
I saw a massive surge in Amazon sales over the last month or so, and out of maybe 100 sales, 80% were returned within 7 days. That’s my bread and butter gone. It means I can’t plan ahead for future projects because I don’t know what my actual royalties will be because the books can be returned at any moment for a full refund that comes out of my royalties.
And unfortunately, there’s so way for paperback sales to make up for it because I’d need to sell 2-3 paperbacks to per ebook, and that’s just don’t the economic climate we live in anymore. Most people have $4.99 to spend on an ebook. Justifying $14.99+ for a paperback is harder.
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A Christmas Story(Part 1)
In my youth I was a popular man. Thanks to my prowess in hunting, none questioned my leadership. A single hunting trip could often take weeks, as we stalked a herd of mammoth in pursuit of its warm fur, and the months of food it could provide. Together with my partner, the great wolf Hercules, no prey was safe from us, nor could any child resist my excellent mammoth stew. Apart from hunting, one of my great joys was the care of the children, whom I would bounce on my knee and tell the tallest tales I could imagine, and gift them the bones of creatures I found interesting.
I still remember the year of my journey. My village was eagerly awaiting the end of winter, when the cold mists would fade and give way to a warmer sun, and the mammoth migration provided the food necessary for next years harsh cold. But this year, there were no spring months. No warm wind blowing from the south, driving the critters out of their burrows and into our waiting arms. The mists continued to roll across the land. No mammoth migration offered itself for the hunt.
This last cause, the lack of our faithful prey, was what drove the council’s decision. And so, a month after the sun had failed to shine, the village finished preparations and began a long journey south, to an unknown location. A leap of faith to better lands.
It was a harsh journey. No one would ever choose to travel during winter, had they a choice. We were beginning to feel hunger pangs, the results living off of what our wolfs could dig from a shallow burrow in the snow. Lemmings were the main course of every meal.
A week into the journey, the quartermaster announced that there was a basket of food missing. The council posted guards and thought nothing of it. But when food continued to vanish consistently, day after day, frustration grew within the camp. It was a hard enough journey without a thief sabotaging our efforts! The guards were punished without supper, and new ones posted, but the food continued to vanish.
I decided to take matters into my own hands. As a hunter, I had mastered the art of sleeping alertly, getting rest while my senses remained fine tuned to every change in the environment. It was a habit I had learned from long hours studying the reindeer, and how it evades even the swiftest hunter’s spear.
And so I was resting when I saw the elf. I did not know he was anything more than human when I first caught sight of him. About three feet tall, treading lightly on the snow, the little boy slowly approached our cart. I took a moment to observe him before attacking, a strategy I had also learned from the hunting. The elf was wearing an unusual pointed hat which covered its ears, and single garment for his torso and legs. Around his neck was a black collar. A very strange attire indeed.
The second he was close enough, I lashed out for him with my hand, aiming for the neck. Only rabbits were quick enough to evade this attack, yet the boy dodged it with ease, leaving only his hat in my grasp. My last glimpse was of him racing towards the snow-covered woods to the north, pointy ears waving in the air.
The next day I reported the incident to the council, suggesting a scout be sent to follow the thief. They were as disgusted as I was that bandits would mistreat a boy so much as to mutilate his ears, and unanimously permitted me to give pursuit.
Hercules, after giving the hat a thorough sniff, led me north for half a day, through deep snow and tall forests. I was very astonished when we found the pointy eared boy still running. How could he maintain a pace at such a young age? Notching an arrow, I aimed and yelled for the elf to halt. He did.
I queried him about his ears, attire, and collar, but he seemed incapable of giving me an answer, only flapping his mouth silently and waving his arms in gestures. Finally, I assumed he was mute and asked him to lead me to the men who had given him the collar. His face lit up, and gesturing enthusiastically he ran forward, leaving Hercules and I to catch up.
Towards the evening when the sun grew low in the sky, we came to the edge of a steep slope, at the bottom of which lay the prison camp. There were tents in it. No caretakers, no fires. The only thing that lay at the bottom of the incline were golden cages. At least 15 separate cages, all large enough for 10 men each, and stuffed to the brim with… it was now that I realized that my little guide must be an elf. And so were the many prisoners down there in the snow.
Throwing caution to the wind, I rushed down into the valley and up to one of the cages. My guide remained in the trees at the top of the slope. The prisoners silently crowded towards me as I began to examine the bars for a way out, but the cages had no door. I had no idea as to how the elves had been imprisoned in the first place, but if they existed, then so did magic, and anything was possible. The whole time, the prisoners didn’t make a sound.
Before I had departed on the mission, I had been working on a bone carving for the children. This I gave to the imprisoned elf closest to me, to comfort herself with the trinket. The little girl desperately snatched it from my hand. Blue sparks flew, and the little elf materialized next to me, outside of the cage.
Suddenly, the sky seemed to darken. Mist formed in the air, chilling me to the core. The winter in my homeland can freeze you to the bone, but this cold seemed to penetrate my very soul. The rest of the prisoners cowered towards the center of their cages, and beside me, the rescued elf clung to my leg while Hercules began to growl.
And finally, the villain makes his entrance. He appeared in the center of the clearing, darkness there coalescing until the vague shadow of a person could be seen. A chilling laugh filled the world, seeming to resound deep in my head.
“You?” the voice hissed, coming from seemingly nowhere. The dark figure rushed forwards, stopping inches in front of my face. I stumbled backwards and fumbled for my bow, but my fingers were clumsy with the cold and it fell to the ground. The being laughed hysterically.
“Is this the being that will challenge my reign? You’ve only just used magic, how can you hope to challenge a being as powerful as I? And here I thought I would need effort to survive till the First Coming.”
It goes without saying that I was terrified. However, around my leg I could feel the poor little elf grasping me in horror, and I had to be strong to protect her. So I didn’t move. My mouth didn’t seem to work, so I didn’t move that either. I could only stand there, and pray for a miracle.
There was a mighty snarl, and Hercules hurled himself at the thing. It’s laughter seemed to only increase. The being gestured, and tendrils flew out of the things body and attacked the wolf, seeming to sink into his skin on a level deeper than merely physical. “No!” I yelled, rushing forward as Hercules fell to the ground. I am ashamed to admit that I forgot about the elf. Hercules groaned and whined as he writhed. Grabbing his head in my hands, I gasped as the Darkness entered me.
Such a horrible feeling. I can only assume it was a glimpse into the demons very consciousness. Such horrible suffering, and such malice it contained. Sadness, resentment, greed, lust and pride were enlaced throughout the being, and above all, the most evil wish to spread the suffering with all that it encountered.
However, the Demon did not count on one simple fact. This was my dog.
As I felt the darkness creeping from Hercules into me, I took a deep breath and reminded myself why I loved the wolf. I remembered the day Hercules was found, when he had stumbled into the camp as a blind and helpless pup. The many weeks I spent training him, neglecting my duties as a son, to prove to the tribe that another wolf would be worth the extra food. The day Hercules had caught his first kill, the pride I had felt, the Love.
I took control of that incredible Love, and sent it into my wolf.
The Demon’s malicious chuckling stopped abruptly, as suddenly part of Hercules’s body began to glow with a mysterious white light, pushing out the darkness. More tendrils lashed onto the wolf, and the Darkness resumed progress, pushing out my light. My soul grew weak, even though I called on all my strength. Sometimes even our best isn’t enough.
Then there was a hand on my shoulder, and a sudden gasp. I glanced to the side to see the elf I had rescued, her eyes closed intently, and the carved bone in her hand glowing with the same light as my wolf. Behind her, my guide held her hand, which was also gleamed. I felt more love pour out from the little elves into me, fueling my inner fire. The Darkness began receding again. The Demon appeared to be breathing heavily.
With a mighty yell, I forced my last reserves of strength into the battle. There was a blinding flash of light, and then consciousness fled.
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Okay, the Divine Child of the Rejuvenating Waters, also known by like three people as Mizuho (Thank you @altairattorney and Altair’s partner for coming up with a name for the poor gal)
She likes to read, she likes to paint and draw, she likes to sew. Stuff she can do with her hands. If you have her just sit still for a while and nothing to focus on she’s going to completely zone out.
Persimmons are her favorite food, yes, but she’s never been a huge fan of rice (it’s a texture issue for her). She was not excited to find out she could make rice.
She had a small family, on the edge of a village, so it was pretty easy for the monks to grab her and her older brother.
Her parents went after them with a couple other parents who’s kids suddenly disappeared. Their bodies are the some of the ones scattered around the temple grounds.
The process that made her into the Divine Child was done in the Inner Sanctum. After it was clear she lived, the monks walked out congratulating themselves expecting her to follow. She locked the door behind them. The fact that she had a weapon that could kill the undying locked in with her too caused them to freak out but the only way back in is the Hall of Illusions and none of the monks are willing to go through there.
She is not infested with centipedes like the monks are; what they did was basically give her the most purified dose of the Rejuvenating Sediment they could make. The time, effort, and how much they had to go through to make it is why they haven’t made another Divine Child. The other children were given less purified or smaller doses of it, and died when it tried to essentially overwrite their biology to give them the Dragon’s Blood listen im not thinking too hard about this rn but i have a feeling I’m going to there may or may not be a long post in a few days
Technically she doesn’t need to eat, like Hanbei; she’ll go a while and then pass out and wake up later. It’s been getting slowly more frequent since she can’t really get actual food in the sanctum or the halls. I know she makes rice but it’s not adding energy to the system all it does it take away hunger pangs for a bit That persimmon Wolf gives her is the first food food she’s had for quite a while.
Weapons make her nervous but she can kinda swing a sword? In case she needed to use the Mortal Blade on the monks. She convinced the Illusion Hall monk to teach her how to use a staff.
She’s been locked in the temple for a couple years at this point; she locked herself in the temple around the time of the Hirata raid. She’s pretty touch starved; the Illusion Hall monk isn’t a touchy feely type even though he’ll hug her if she needs it. The monkeys will start grooming her when she shows up cause they know.
Despite what the monk said, a couple people have made it into the Inner Sanctum since she’s been there, not counting Wolf. All of them were after the Mortal Blade. All of them died trying to draw it and she had to drag their bodies out. She gets the bodies into the Halls of Illusion and lets the monk there take care of them.
A big part of why she decided to help Kuro rather than stay safe in her temple was Wolf being kind to her. He didn’t have to bring her a persimmon, ask if she was okay, or anything; she decided if he’s a good person then his master must be, too.
#PoisonHemloc's rambles#sekiro#sekiro shadows die twice#listen i've heard the same blood arguments about her rice as the bloodborne ones and i've heard the rice is centipede egg arguments#and i dont care as far as im concerned they're incorrect and i do not care about evidence or that kinda bs#this is all just thrown together but its been in my drafts for a week. might do Kuro or the divine child process soon but also finishing fic
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Alexander Hamilton: Account of a Hurricane
[This post is in honour of those who have suffered at the wake of such devastation. It would be that with each passing year the hurricanes are becoming more aggressive in their nature.]
Alexander Hamilton without a doubt was a man of words. The very reason he managed to escape the clutches of poverty and invisibility was because of his eloquence when it came to the quill.
His 'Account of a Hurricane' is considered one of his greatest works as it was what truly brought change upon his life.
This is why I feel it is my obligation to share it with you. I truly do hope that you take the time and read the wondrous writings of this historical figure who help shaped what is arguably one of the most influential countries of this age.
.
.
Saint Croix, September 6, 1772
Honoured Sir,
I take up my pen just to give you an imperfect account of the most dreadful hurricane that memory or any records whatever can trace, which happened here on the 31st ultimo at night.
It began about dusk, at North, and raged very violently till ten o'clock. Then ensued a sudden and unexpected interval, which lasted about an hour. Meanwhile the wind was shifting round to the South West point, from whence it returned with redoubled fury and continued so till near three o'clock in the morning. Good God! what horror and destruction—it's impossible for me to describe—or you to form any idea of it. It seemed as if a total dissolution of nature was taking place. The roaring of the sea and wind—fiery meteors flying about in the air—the prodigious glare of almost perpetual lightning—the crash of the falling houses—and the ear-piercing shrieks of the distressed, were sufficient to strike astonishment into Angels. A great part of the buildings throughout the Island are levelled to the ground—almost all the rest very much shattered—several persons killed and numbers utterly ruined—whole families running about the streets unknowing where to find a place of shelter—the sick exposed to the keenness of water and air—without a bed to lie upon—or a dry covering to their bodies—our harbour is entirely bare. In a word, misery in all its most hideous shapes spread over the whole face of the country.— A strong smell of gunpowder added somewhat to the terrors of the night; and it was observed that the rain was surprisingly salt. Indeed, the water is so brackish and full of sulphur that there is hardly any drinking it.
My reflections and feelings on this frightful and melancholy occasion are set forth in following self-discourse.
Where now, Oh! vile worm, is all thy boasted fortitude and resolution? what is become of thy arrogance and self-sufficiency?—why dost thou tremble and stand aghast? how humble—how helpless—how contemptible you now appear. And for why? the jarring of the elements—the discord of clouds? Oh, impotent presumptuous fool! how darest thou offend that omnipotence, whose nod alone were sufficient to quell the destruction that hovers over thee, or crush thee into atoms? See thy wretched helpless state and learn to know thyself. Learn to know thy best support. Despise thyself and adore thy God. How sweet—how unutterably sweet were now the voice of an approving conscience;—then couldst thou say—hence ye idle alarms—why do I shrink? What have I to fear? A pleasing calm suspense! a short repose from calamity to end in eternal bliss?—let the earth rend, let the planets forsake their course—let the sun be extinguished, and the heavens burst asunder—yet what have I to dread? my staff can never be broken—in omnipotence I trust.
He who gave the winds to blow and the lightnings to rage—even him I have always loved and served—his precepts have I observed—his commandments have I obeyed—and his perfections have I adored.—He will snatch me from ruin—he will exalt me to the fellowship of Angels and Seraphs, and to the fulness of never ending joys.
But alas! how different, how deplorable—how gloomy the prospect—death comes rushing on in triumph veiled in a mantle of ten-fold darkness. His unrelenting scythe, pointed and ready for the stroke.—On his right hand sits destruction, hurling the winds and belching forth flames;—calamity on his left threatening famine, disease, distress of all kinds.—And Oh! thou wretch, look still a little further; see the gulf of eternal mystery open—there mayest thou shortly plunge — the just reward of thy vileness.—Alas! whither canst thou fly? where hide thyself? thou canst not call upon thy God;—thy life has been a continual warfare with him.
Hark! ruin and confusion on every side.—Tis thy turn next: but one short moment—even now—Oh Lord help—Jesus be merciful!
Thus did I reflect, and thus at every gust of the wind did I conclude,—till it pleased the Almighty to allay it.—Nor did my emotions proceed either from the suggestion of too much natural fear, or a conscience overburdened with crimes of an uncommon cast.—I thank God this was not the case. The scenes of horror exhibited around us, naturally awakened such ideas in every thinking breast, and aggravated the deformity of every failing of our lives. It were a lamentable insensibility indeed, not to have had such feelings,—and I think inconsistent with human nature.
Our distressed helpless condition taught us humility and a contempt of ourselves.—The horrors of the night—the prospect of an immediate cruel death—or, as one may say, of being crushed by the Almighty in his anger—filled us with terror. And everything that had tended to weaken our interest with Him, upbraided us, in the strongest colours, with our baseness and folly.—That which, in a calm unruffled temper, we call a natural cause, seemed then like the correction of the Deity.—Our imagination represented him as an incensed master, executing vengeance on the crimes of his servants.—The father and benefactor were forgot, and in that view, a consciousness of our guilt filled us with despair.
But see, the Lord relents—he hears our prayers—the Lightning ceases—the winds are appeased—the warring elements are reconciled, and all things promise peace.—The darkness is dispelled—and drooping nature revives at the approaching dawn. Look back, Oh, my soul—look back and tremble.—Rejoice at thy deliverance, and humble thyself in the presence of thy deliverer.
Yet hold, Oh, vain mortal!—check thy ill-timed joy. Art thou so selfish as to exult because thy lot is happy in a season of universal woe?—Hast thou no feelings for the miseries of thy fellow-creatures, and art thou incapable of the soft pangs of sympathetic sorrow?—Look around thee and shudder at the view.—See desolation and ruin wherever thou turnest thine eye. See thy fellow-creatures pale and lifeless; their bodies mangled—their souls snatched into eternity—unexpecting—alas! perhaps unprepared!—Hark the bitter groans of distress—see sickness and infirmities exposed to the inclemencies of wind and water—see tender infancy pinched with hunger and hanging to the mother's knee for food!—see the unhappy mother's anxiety—her poverty denies relief—her breast heaves with pangs of maternal pity—her heart is bursting—the tears gush down her cheeks—Oh sights of woe! Oh distress unspeakable!—my heart bleeds—but I have no power to solace!—Oh ye, who revel in affluence, see the afflictions of humanity, and bestow your superfluity to ease them.—Say not, we have suffered also, and with-hold your compassion. What are your sufferings compared to these? Ye have still more than enough left.—Act wisely.—Succour the miserable and lay up a treasure in Heaven.
I am afraid, sir, you will think this description more the effort of imagination, than a true picture of realities. But I can affirm with the greatest truth, that there is not a single circumstance touched upon which I have not absolutely been an eye-witness to.
Our General has several very salutary and human regulations, and both in his public and private measures has shown himself the man.
#historical alexander hamilton#historically accurate alexander hamilton#alexander hamilton#not my writing#account of a hurricane#hurricane#hurricane description#historical documents#published letter#st croix#1772#18th century#18th century writing#storm#storm writing
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drowning in the depths of you (don’t save me)
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | Read on: AO3
Chapter 4: Another One Can’t Hurt
A certain character appears for the first time in the story. He Tian gives Guan Shan a surprise visit the night after the incident.
The aroma of green tea leaves permeates the air. He Tian taps his foot slowly, watching as the water vapor escapes from the mouth of his teacup. The tendrils rise all the way up to the vast expanse of the high ceiling.
Across him, Jian Yi takes a small sip of his tea, holding it with delicate fingers. He looks at He Tian with doe eyes, near transparent white orbs that would have looked disconcerting to any other man.
Small light footsteps resound through the high arcs of the manse. He Tian turns his head to the sound and sees a graying old dwarf walk towards the sala, coming to a stop as he hefts a tray of biscuits on top of the coffee table. He Tian nods at him to show his gratitude.
“So…I heard your dad is close to dying?” The man across him blurts out, tone inquisitive as if he was asking a mundane question. He Tian shrugs in response.
“Young master, please do not be so blunt.” The old man replies as he arranges the cutlery, tone strict albeit roughened with age. Jian Yi huffs, not taking the reprimand. He Tian gives the elder a curt smile.
“Thank you sir. If only Jian Yi could find it in himself to learn a few wise things from you.” He replies, shooting Jian Yi a teasing glance. The other man sticks his tongue out in kind. The old man gives Jian Yi a reproaching look before leaving, shaking his head in exasperation.
Jian Yi huffs, tossing his head to the side with a flip of his hair. “What happens now?” He says after a sip, trying to go back to the issue at hand.
“Cheng-ge wants me to go back to Shenzhen.” He Tian replies, reaching out to wrap a hand around the teacup. He brings it to his lips, keeping his eyes on the other man to see him raising an eyebrow.
“Oh really now?" Jian Yi replies in a tilted tone. "When do you plan to leave?” He continues, to which He Tian just shakes his head.
Jian Yi sighs. “Of course. You never listen to him.”
He then uses the moment to rearrange his position on the recliner, body shimmying as he let his legs dangle over the chair’s arm. He Tian watches him, amused. The tea in Jian Yi's cup sloshes over the edge and almost spills over his hand.
"How are you doing right now?" Jian Yi asks him. He Tian chuckles humorlessly.
"You know the answer to that."
Jian Yi nods with a hum. Long years spent with each other has granted him the knowledge about the true nature of the He family, and of the relationship between the father and his sons.
“Where’s your knight?” He Tian questions, shifting the topic. The other man’s lips curl up in an instant.
“Xixi is in med-school right now.” Jian Yi replies with a smile, facing He Tian with excited eyes. “He's been burying his nose in his books lately. So much that it’s been a while since I’ve seen him...” He trails off somberly with pouted lips.
“Hey now, you’re making me jealous." He downs the rest of his tea before continuing. "The media is saying we’re engaged to each other, you know.” He says, smirking, as he put his cup back on the table, the china clinking as it made contact with the hardwood.
Jian Yi’s face contorts at his words, cringing exaggeratedly.
"Uuugh! Why did you have to say that!" Jian Yi groans, running a hand over his face. He Tian laughs at him.
“So gross! I don’t even—why would I want to be with a cruel man like you?” He continues, the tone of his voice rising in indignance. He Tian rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything in return. He leans back into the recliner instead.
Cruel, huh? The word doesn't prick at him, but it sends his mind spiralling back to yesterday’s event. He remembers the scalding rush of anger as he laid his eyes on the men who attacked Guan Shan. Dark, heavy promises had settled within his veins then, a promise to protect, and a promise to hurt if need be.
Still, nothing could fully distract him from replaying the split second of glimpse of Guan Shan’s seemingly inhuman body. He knows he shouldn’t jump into conclusions, but that doesn’t mean he should just forget.
And if his eyes did not lie to him, it meant that last night's attack wasn't just a simple run-in with thugs. It was, very likely, a failed kidnapping attempt.
Conflicted emotions bloom in his chest, suddenly feeling uncertain with himself and his course of action.
If I ask him, would he push me away? He thinks to himself, for once tasting the bitter pang of doubt.
“Earth to He Tian? Hello? You seem to be in deep thought out there.” Jian Yi calls him. He Tian blinks back at him.
“I can feel your uneasiness all the way from here you know.” Jian Yi continues, one finger twirling a strand of his pale hair. "Something bothering you?"
Those all-seeing white eyes observe him closely. He Tian breathes out a slow exhale. He knows he can’t fully hide anything from Jian Yi, the fae could easily tell his emotions just by feeling the thrums of his heart.
Once, there was a time when he had been wary of the other man’s natural ability. It was only through years and years of trust did he finally grow to take comfort in it.
“Nothing much. It’s just that I met someone new, that’s all.” He replies, pouring himself more tea. A half-truth that rolls easily off his tongue.
Jian Yi jolts, eyes widening as he scrambled to face He Tian, mouth opening to let out an undignified sound that contrasted greatly with his otherwise elegant beauty.
“Excuse me, what did you say? Who?” Jian Yi asks urgently, leaning forward. His chair makes a shrill noise as it scratches the floor.
He Tian brings the cup to his lips, sipping slowly. Jian Yi wails at him to spill.
---
Guan Shan wakes up from a dreamless sleep.
He feels around for his phone, eyes squinting as the glare from the display illuminated his face. The time reads ’11:12 PM’.
He sits up with a groan, his body aching from post-sleep. He feels the burn of his parched throat as he swallows.
He steps out of his bedroom, phone in hand, and finds that his mother had already retired for the night. Inside the ref he sees the dinner she prepared just a few hours prior. He reheats the casserole on the stove for a few minutes and eats up unceremoniously.
When he has sated his hunger, he goes to the bath to wash up. He’s midway through brushing his teeth when he hears his phone ring on the dining table.
Brows furrowed, he checks the caller ID. He’s unsurprised to see the name that flashes through the screen. He answers the phone with a flick of his finger, toothbrush still stuck inside his mouth.
“ ‘vat’s zup?” He says to the man on the other side of the call. He Tian lets out a laugh.
“Say what, Red?” The other man replies just as Guan Shan moves to the sink to wash his mouth.
“Why did you call?” Guan Shan says clearly this time, pressing his phone back to his ear.
“I wanted to check on you.”
The reply takes him off guard. Guan Shan takes a moment to answer, leaning his head back to one of the kitchen cabinets.
“I’m alright. You didn’t have to check on me.” He tells him, to which He Tian replies with a low hum. Guan Shan knows the other man doubts his answer. For some reason, he feels embarrassed at the concern.
I'm not a weak a little thing...
The line is quiet for several moments. He waits patiently, cradling the phone close to his ear as he waits for He Tian to speak.
“I know it’s already midnight, but can you come out for a bit?”
Guan Shan lets out a ‘huh?’ in confusion. He hears a sharp intake of breath at the other end.
Wait, don’t tell me...
“I’m parked outside.”
He almost drops his phone in surprise. “Huh? What? Are you serious?” Guan Shan asks back, incredulous, drawing his phone back from his ear for a moment to check at the time. At this fucking hour…
“It won’t take too long.”
Guan Shan blinks, once, twice, before sighing, running a hand over his hair. He looks down at what he's wearing, five-year old jersey shorts and a faded shirt, before he tells himself to ‘fuck it’.
The metal creaks under his weight as he descends down the flight of stairs. Oddly, the uneasy feeling in his gut rises with every step he takes. The cool night air pricks at his skin, as if to increase the sudden nervousness he felt.
He Tian’s car was parked right next to the apartment complex. He taps on the window once, ducking to peer into the tinted glass. He Tian gestures at him to enter.
He slips in without a word. Beside him, under the dim lighting of the lamp post adjacent to the car, He Tian flashes his signature smirk.
He notices that He Tian was dressed down to black shirt and gray sweatpants. A stark contrast from the usual three-piece he wears—no silver watch to blink at him from He Tian’s wrist, no expensive musk of a perfume whose name he cannot bother to pronounce.
Guan Shan pauses, not accustomed to the sight. He's so used to seeing He Tian dressed up, he almost thought he slept in expensive suits as well.
The current He Tian is much more preferable, Guan Shan admits to himself.
“I wanted to see you.” He Tian tells him, hand coming to rest on Guan Shan’s elbow. The warmth of his touch spreads on his skin.
“It’s the dead of the night, asshole.” Guan Shan replies with a glare, not making a move to remove He Tian's hand. The other man breathes out a chuckle, his free hand reaching up to mess at his fringe.
“Yeah, sorry. I don’t really have an excuse.” He Tian tilts his head at him, his smile looking a little sheepish. Guan Shan huffs.
He inhales deeply, bracing himself for what he has to say. He breaks his gaze away from He Tian, redirecting his eyes to his lap. “I’m fine. I’m really grateful for what you did yesterday.” There was no need to expound on what he meant. “I meant what I said, I’m indebted to you.”
A few seconds pass by, the car’s engine purring softly somewhere behind them. Guan Shan wrings his hands together in anxiety.
“You don’t have to worry about it. I’d help you again and again if I could.” He Tian replies, voice soft. At that moment he meant to say more, a want, a need, rather, to protect Guan Shan to the best of his ability.
Guan Shan chews at his lip, butterflies settling within as he took in He Tian’s words. Gratitude was not enough to describe what he felt,
Trust. He supposes he can give the other man just that. Months of relentless pursuit, teasing but not once overstepping his boundaries, genuine words and actions, seeking and courting him with unwavering dedication. And when he had needed him most, he had been there.
Guan Shan wants to, chooses to believe in He Tian.
He Tian’s arm reaches up to curl around his shoulder. The action brings them closer, and briefly Guan Shan feels his face heat up. He Tian runs a thumb on the bruise at his neck, his touch gentle as to not exert pressure. Guan Shan is suddenly stricken with self-consciousness. He attempts to cover the bruises with his hand, although He Tian gently pushes it away.
“It’s fine, it will disappear in a few days.” He says, a weak attempt to quell the other man’s worrying gaze. The furrow between He Tian's brows doesn't let up.
“What happened, exactly?” He Tian says suddenly. Guan Shan flinches, not because of the suddenness of the question, but because it was the question that he was dreading to answer.
He inhales and exhales once, preparing for the next lie. “Nothing. They were trying to mug me or something.” He desperately hopes that was enough.
Another one can’t hurt.
Right?
He observes He Tian’s reaction, waiting for any sign of disbelief or confusion. The other man’s eyes were downcast, expression unreadable as he contemplated on what to say. He Tian doesn’t reply in what feels like a long time.
“It’s not nothing, Red. Things could have gotten worse.”
Guan Shan nods, swallowing hard. He was right in many ways he doesn't know. Still, he feels immense relief at the fact that he was alright at the moment, sitting beside He Tian outside of his home, the light of the sun still waiting for him at the dawn.
They stay in the same position for a while. He Tian reaches in his pocket and pulls out a pack—‘Sobranie Black Russian’ Guan Shan reads. He’s never seen that one in convenience stores. He relinquishes his hold around Guan Shan and offers him a stick, to which Guan Shan accepts after a beat’s consideration.
He Tian rolls the windows down as they light up the cigarettes. Guan Shan sucks in slowly, relief flooding in through his system along with the bitter coolness of nicotine. He doesn’t do this often, in fact, he can count the number of packs he has bought using both hands.
“Our date got ruined, you know.” He Tian says after an exhale, white clouds of carbon dancing just outside the car window.
Guan Shan raises an eyebrow and gives the other man a blithering glare. He Tian smiles back coyly in return.
“Seriously?”
“What? I was looking forward to it. Don’t tell me you weren’t.” He Tian teases back with a wink. Guan Shan rolls his eyes and places the cig back between his lips.
“So…ready for take two?” He Tian presses on, expectant. Guan Shan doesn’t answer right away, letting the menthol wash over him as he exhaled. He Tian uses that moment to reach for his hand, fingers intertwining with Guan Shan’s bony ones. He gives him a slight squeeze.
A promise. A reassurance.
Guan Shan shrugs. “Sure, whatever.” He says as nonchalantly as he could. He Tian beams, showing off a dimpled smile.
The sight pulls up a small grin at the corner of his lips.
"Don't get so happy about it." He tells the other man, squeezing his hand just as He Tian did.
"Hmm? What do you mean, Red?" He Tian replies, eyes still curled like half-moons.
"You're like an excited dog."
He Tian's expression morphs into a questioning one, one eyebrow curling upwards. Guan Shan really can't help it, he finds it to be...cute.
He shakes his head with a small smile.
Outside the car windows, a gentle breeze sweeps over, blowing the traces of smoke away. The obsidian night sky hangs above them, their figures illuminated only by the dim glow of a lamp post.
Like this, Guan Shan felt at peace for the first time since yesterday's night.
A/N:
Reblog please! Leave your comments either through here or on ao3!! You can also send me messages for discourse, and whatever *chu*
*pounds gavel* He Tian has dimples. Fight me. I have smoked exactly once and it wasn't even legit. Maybe I should start smoking? For research purposes? Lol.
"Guan Shan nods, swallowing hard. He was right in many ways he doesn't know." Unreliable narrator here. Of course Guan Shan doesnt know that He Tian knows some stuff.
I'm so sorry I'm so late. I got swamped by org work and shit. I'll try to work on the next update right away, but I can't guarantee an immediate upload. Also, what do you guys think about the current situation in HK?
October 23, revision of fourth chapter. Had to work on the narrative structure of the first part since it felt awkward when I read it. Hope the story flows better now.
July 8, 2020. Revised some stuff. Uploading a new chapter because my metaphysical self held my physical self at gunpoint.
Chapter 5
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