#i am still on the fence about a bunch of lines here but here it is
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I am going insane at how bad this park is in jurassic world like there's a ride where the attendees can control their own orb thing through a large amount of actual dinosaurs. and it doesn't have like a taking over the steering thing to bring them all back in in case of, I don't know, a dinosaur escaping?
I can not concieve of a single scenario where letting untrained guests get this close to wild animals with zero veto power could possibly go wrong - the people that created this ride, apparently
they even IN THE MOVIE ride through a goddamn stampede or something, and we see that just the indominous rexes jaws can get through the glass, a triceratops could definitely get through if it tried hard enough, like maybe, perhaps, hypothetically, in some wild scenario, a rich tourist doesn't understand that maybe getting close to a large herbivores young offspring is a bad idea.
and seriously why is there no button that just.. recalls all of the balls
how does this ride even work how do they get through the line when they just tell guests okay bye go roam this grassy wonderland filled with large things that can kill you yet you have no concern for, people have definitely had sex in those things and people have definitely been gone for hours.
also the mosasaurus cage, hm maybe a second draft might be in order. maybe?
okay. cool. sure. fine whatever, it's not like it does this multiple times daily surely there will be no issue here
she is also shown breaching the barrier and getting onto the walkway in the fucking movie
like the mosasaur is IN THIS BODY OF WATER HERE and that is a busy walkway that people are encouraged to sit and eat under, also sidenote that woman you see falling has like 5 minutes of screentime and half of it is an extremely gruesome death, like by far the worst in the movie. this movie has very normal opinions about women.
okay so this one looks different to the other dinky barrier, somehow even more dinky, but still on a presumably busy walkway since this is on the end of a street where their very obvious sponsor pandora had set up shop (and a bunch of dino merch)
and like yeah, shocker, massive powerful sea creature can leap out of the water and break the dinky fence, it could have done this at any time at all it is probably more powerful than the indominous rex which we SEE breaking much stronger barriers than the dinky glass one. also sidenote this screenshot is VERY funny
I could go on for years about how shit this movie is every other moment there is a massive plothole, very sorry about this post I am going insane.
#jurassic world#mosasaur#shitty movies#I should be asleep rn#tyrannosaurus rex#indominus rex#fucking hate this movie
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Negans reaction to reader being pregnant with his baby? Head canons or a short story are fine!!!
Negan Reaction To A Pregnant S/O:
A/N: I am working on a Negan and Reader having a baby request rn actually, so this will be some Headcanons lmao. I got like 5 anons with baby fever in my ask box rn and I am here to support you all LMAO
Pairing: Negan x AFAB!Reader
Warnings: No specific pronouns used, Negan (He's crazy let's be fr), Mentions of Lucille, Mentions of the other wives, canon typical violence, Negan has Baby FeverTM, Pregnancy, Pet names, let me know if I need to add more!
REQUEST INFO || TWD MASTERLIST
He still has multiple wives when you find out, so you're very hesitant about telling him. He's mentioned to you a lot more personal things than he ever did any of the other women, but you still were uncertain if you were really his favorite. Plus, even though he mentioned that he and his actual wife, Lucille, had wanted a baby. You weren't sure if he still wanted that baby, especially with you.
You try avoiding him for a few weeks, but it doesn't work. He finds you and confronts you about the behavior. He doesn't raise his voice with you once, though. Any of his other spouses he would, but you took a notice that they weren't even his spouses anymore. They were mostly just his servants and leverage against Dwight and some of the other men he took the girls from.
"What's been with you lately? I haven't seen ya around. I didn't do anything, did I?" He'd ask, and you'd feel your heart swell because for some reason you did love him. Even if at first you weren't the only person he was sleeping with.
You'd be scared, and he could tell that something was up so he'd lead you into either your own room or his room - whichever was closer - in order to give you privacy and set you down beside him. "Come on honey, you can talk to me," he'd assure, smiling as he reached up to brush his knuckles over your cheeks.
"I'm pregnant, and it's yours."
He wouldn't react at first. His eyes wide as he stared at you and it'd scare you. You'd be afraid he might kill you and stick you out on that fence to deter his enemies from the compound - but then he finally reacted.
"Mine? My baby... I'm gonna be a dad?" He'd ramble, jolting to his feet as a surge of energy shot through his body. Leaving you sitting on the bed alone as he paced the room in front of you. "We're having a cub?" He'd speak and his voice would crack. Facing you with the biggest and most genuine smile, his eyes brimmed with tears and he raced back over to you. Long strides making his way to in front of you so he could kneel. Being just a little shorter than you on the bed, now.
"How far are you?" He'd ask, and you could practically feel the excitement that radiated off the man, and it gave you hope that your kid might actually get a good father. "Only a few weeks, a month at most the doc said." You spoke, and he reached up to hold the sides of your face. "I hope they have your eyes," He'd tell you, and you'd feel your whole body heat up. Eyes darting to the side with a sheepish smile, but it was quick to fade.
"What's wrong?" He'd asked. "I'm not really that important, though. You have other wives, it could have been one of them carrying your baby." You frowned, and he shook his head. "I stopped sleeping with them a long time ago, honey bunches," he'd tell you, rubbing his thumbs over your cheek bones. "Stopped claiming them, too. They're just kept up here to keep the guys in line." he'd hum, "I only want you, I promise you that. Have I ever lied?" He hadn't. He always told you the truth and you both knew it.
He'd prove it to your further by even making it so the other women dressed in more casual clothing. None of them referred to him as anything other than Negan, and he'd walk you around with his hand on your hip, on the small of your back, or in your hand constantly. He wants to prove to you that you are the only one he thinks about. The only spouse that he wants.
He'd eventually ask you to "marry" him after he figured you trusted him enough to do so. If you say no, he gets it, but if you say yes he's ecstatic. He loves you, truly, and he's glad that you agreed to be with him til death do you part.
When you were far enough along that you couldn't hide the bump in your stomach any longer Negan would call a meeting to the people. Standing above them all with you by his side while everyone kneeled before the two of you. His hand resting on your stomach while he held you close.
"Some of you may already know, but I wanted to make it official. My Honey-bear and I are having a cub of our own here soon." He'd tell them, all while looking at you with so much love and adoration in his eyes that it made your heart soar. "There's about to be a little Negan running around. They're gonna be such a little shit too," He'd announce with such an enthusiastic voice, and you'd chuckle. "Well, let's hope they don't have your complete personality, then." He'd snicker at this, pulling you in for a kiss that he couldn't help but grin like a fool into. Everyone would cheer for you both, because truly. None of them had seen their leader so happy with anyone.
Negan would get more and more protective over you the closer you got to popping. He'd be by your side, making sure you had everything you need. He wouldn't let anyone get too close to you. He was already protective of you, but now was worse. You'd be off limits to everyone except for his previous wives that he knew you trusted. They'd help you when he was gone. They were happy for you, truly. Plus, you practically granted them freedom.
Negan would cry when the baby was born. He secretly hoped it was a little boy, and he'd so thrilled if it was a boy. He'd be bouncing off the walls and trying to convince you to let him name it Negan Jr. but really he'd be fine with about anything you came up with. He wasn't picky.
If it was a little girl though? Oh, that feels so much different for the man. He's holding the girl with practical heart eyes. Smiling as tears roll down his cheeks and he stares at her. "Hi, baby bear," he'd coo, and choke on a sob if they cooed back. He's never letting his little girl out of his sight. He's gonna be the most protective Papa Bear anyone knows. Everyone better pray that he they don't hurt her in anyway.
He'd spoil the shit out of his kid. Ordering his men to get them toys out on their runs. He'd let his kid get away with murder and just smile while cheering them on. They can do no wrong in his eyes.
With Negan being their dad. Expect the kid to be repeating some pretty interesting words as it gets older. "Suck my dick," "You wanna taste your own balls today?" "Fuck" "Shit" you name it. They've got quite the vocabulary as they get older and you're thankful school systems don't exist anymore.
Negan is the type of dad to do everything with his kid and even takes some time away from leading the saviors and puts Simon in charge for a while so he can spend it with you and the baby. He still doesn't let Simon get away with the stupid things he wants to do and still attends the meetings though to makes sure the system doesn't fail.
Everyone adores you and the baby. You two are the new celebrities in the factory, and everyone loves how happy you both make Negan. He swears up and down that he won't ever let anything happen to you or his baby.
"Personally, I think I deserve another baby... Maybe another five more." He'd tell you, and if you didn't say no, he'd be taking that as a yes. He loves kids and wants as many as you'll have for him. Plus, he loves the way you look when you're carrying his child. How your skin seems to glow, how round and soft you are. He wishes cameras still existed so he could have a photo or two of you.
He loves his little family, and even if you only had one kid for him, or if you decided to have one more or a few more. He's happy and content. He never thought he'd have the chance to be a Daddy and he is forever thankful that you not only gave him that opportunity. But also that it's you that he gets to share these moments with.
If you would like to be added to my tag list for TWD stuff, please fill out the form on my pinned post :) It is linked as "TWD Taglist Form"!
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WIP Wednesday
Tagged by the lovely @piratefalls and @onthewaytosomewhere
Happy birthday to our favorite chaos bisexual baby boi, Alex! I am almost at the finished line for this chapter. I'm determined to post today, so stay tuned, folks. Wordy little bastard Alex has a lot to say and a lot of FEELS. ENJOY!
As they exited the cemetery, Henry turned to him and asked, “Would you indulge me one more cemetery tour?”
Alex nodded, something in Henry’s eyes telling him this was important. They walked down the street until they found an appropriate place to cross. Henry led them up to the open gate that read Holt Cemetery. Compared to the grandeur of the place they just left, Holt looked rundown and neglected. The gravestones were worn and crooked, some lined with PVC pipe or broken mini-picket fences, and decorated with mementos from loved ones. He took Henry’s hand and squeezed it as they walked along the gravel drive.
“Somewhere in here,” Henry said softly, “may lie the remains of four men, victims of a gay bar fire in 1973 called the Upstairs Lounge.”
“May?”
Henry’s jaw tightened. “Many older records were destroyed after Katrina. Some say the victims, one, possibly two, who have been identified, were buried here or in the Charity Hospital Cemetery nearby. Their bodies were so damaged, they were never identified or claimed. One man’s family, Ferris LeBlanc, didn’t even know he’d died in the fire until 2015. In total, thirty-two men died that night, the deadliest attack on a queer space until Pulse in Orlando.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Alex hissed. “Was anyone ever charged?”
Henry shook his head. “There was a suspect, a man who had been ejected about twenty minutes before the fire started, but it ultimately went nowhere. It was just a bunch of queers who had it coming, right?”
“How did you learn about this?”
“A documentary,” Henry replied. They paused, and Henry held their joined hands against his chest. “I have a vested interest in the history of our community because the mainstream media and so-called educators still seek to bury it.”
Alex swallowed thickly as he scanned the cemetery. As the son of a Mexican immigrant, he knew all too well how hard the system fought to suppress those they deemed as “other.” It occurred to him that so much of the real history of this country hadn’t been taught to him in the classroom but through books, documentaries, and people like Henry. People determined not to let their history fade into obscurity.
“I don’t mean to preach-”
Alex stopped him. “No, you’re not. And you’re right. These men deserve to be remembered. Thank you for sharing this with me. I’ve only been for about a year, and I’ve still got so much more I need to learn.”
“That’s the first step,” Henry smiled. “The worst thing you can do as a young queer person is live in willful ignorance because the people in power are counting on it. Pride Month is about so much more than celebrating who we are. It’s about remembering those who we’ve lost, who didn’t get the chance to live openly as we do now.”
Alex felt a lump growing in his throat. He wrapped his arms around Henry and squeezed tight. Henry huffed a laugh but returned his embrace, murmuring, “I’d kiss you right now, but that would be grossly inappropriate, given our current location.”
“Good call.”
There are so many bonding moments between A&H in this chapter, but this is one I'm proud of. As a queer person myself, Henry was channeling me as I too think it is beyond vital that queer people learn their history, the bad and the good. Celebrate Pride but remember the people who are no longer here. CMQ brought up the story of the Upstairs Lounge in One Last Stop, so I wanted to include it here as I feel it would be something important that Henry would want to share with Alex. I promise, this chapter is almost done and you guys are NOT ready for it! All aboard the hype train, choo chooooooo! See ya soon!
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About Time
My first Rhett Abbott fic.
A huge thank you to the Queen of this cowboy, @hederasgarden for looking this over.
Words: 2400 ~ Pairing: Rhett x female reader ~ Content: P in V sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f rec'ing) swears, reader gets boosted up/pinned against a tree
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This is your favourite trail.
It’s dusk; the best time to ride. Your beloved mare, Ginger, so called because of her love of ginger-oat biscuits as a foal, walks steadily up the gentle incline.
Over the ridge, you can see the lake. The water looks as clear as a bell, the surface barely moving.
The faint stirrings of a breeze pick at the ends of your hair. The leaves of nearby trees sway a little, dancing to their own tune.
Wyoming is beautiful all year ‘round, but especially at dusk in early Summer. It’s not yet hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk, but it’s plenty warm enough for just a sundress on the trail. Ginger goes slow. It’s just a lazy evening in nature.
You savour the stillness.
It’d be nice to ride with someone, but it’s just as nice to be alone.
You ride Ginger down to the lake. It takes about a half hour. It’s deserted for once, all the families have gone home. Across the still water, a lone man sits fishing, asleep in his chair, ballcap pulled low over his face. It makes you smile.
You turn back, head into the trees. To a little thicket of trees you like to escape into. It’s sheltered. Your own little part of the trail.
Off the beaten track.
You dismount from Ginger and feed her slices of an apple from the ziploc bag in your pocket.
She nuzzles your hand appreciatively.
The back of your neck prickles. Someone else is here.
You turn just in time to see a tall man ride in on a gorgeous black gelding.
His pale grey, wide-brimmed hat is pulled low over his face, but you’d recognise the set of his mouth and his leanly muscled frame anywhere.
“Rhett.”
“She’s a beauty,” he says softly. But you feel the weight of his gaze on you, rather than your horse.
Your cheeks heat.
Rhett’s horse nickers softly as he dismounts. He’s wearing jeans and a button down shirt that fits the lines of his body well. He digs in his back pocket for a carrot, offers it to the horse. You smile at the satisfied crunching.
“You’re out late,” Rhett observes in his low, seductive drawl.
“So what if I am? Gonna make a comment about how this is no place for a woman alone?”
You watch as he ties his horse to one of the largest tree branches. You watch his arms work. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, and his forearm muscles bunch as he secures the knot.
Your mouth goes dry.
You give riding lessons at the Abbott Ranch. You started around a year ago, and about six months ago, you and Rhett started dancing around each other. You’d feel his gaze on you as you chatted with Cece. Or he’d offer to walk you to your car after lessons, and let his hip bump yours, oh so gently.
He’d catch your eye after being thrown at the rodeos. You could feel the warm bathe of his regard even amongst the crowd.
He moves towards you now, his gait slow and even. A man who knows himself.
You’ve watched him grooming the ranch horses; watched him mending fences. You know he has wide palms and long fingers. There’re scars on his right knuckles from barbed wire. More scars on his right ribs from a bar fight.
He knows himself, and he’s never pretended to be something he isn’t, and there’s certainty in that.
I know I don’t bring very much to the table, he told you once, after you slow danced together at Country Night in the town square.
But you think he brings more’n enough.
“Not at all. Fact is, I’m glad you’re alone. Been fixin’ to get you alone for weeks.” He’s close enough now that you can see the little rings of grey around his blue irises. You breathe him in, citrussy saddle oil and clean soap and the very slight sweetness of freshly baled hay.
You meet his eyes. "That so?"
"Yup." He brings up one work-calloused hand to cup your cheek, and you lean into his palm. Every moment you've been near Rhett has been leading to this moment. Your heart pounds at his nearness; every iota of you is on fire. "It's been drivin' me crazy. Wanting you."
You swallow nervously.
He traces his thumb gently along the pad of your lower lip, and smiles to himself. The set of his mouth is wry when he says, "Here's where you tell me you don't want no part of this. Of a second son who maybe drinks too much and don't win quite enough rodeos."
He's smiling slightly, but you hear the insecurity ringing in his voice, and you can't have that. So you tip his hat up, thread your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, and bring his mouth to your own for a kiss.
It starts soft and sweet. You explore each other’s mouths. He tastes faintly of the tang of beer, with the sweet edge of honeyed whiskey. It’s a heady combination.
You murmur his name and he settles both hands on your hips, slowly walks you back until your shoulders touch the broad expanse of a tree trunk. The wood is hard at your back and Rhett is warm and solid at your front, and you feel dizzied by him; the handsome cowboy at twilight, his singular focus on only you.
“I do want this,” you say, holding eye contact.
His brow wings up, like he somehow was expecting rejection. He’s used to it. Used to waking up alone after one night stands. Used to being thrown by bulls. Used to meeting the low expectations everyone around him seems to set for the younger Abbott boy.
If you have anything to say about it, he’ll never wake up alone after sex again.
You spear your fingers into his hair and it knocks his hat off. The stetson tumbles to the ground, unnoticed.
“Stupid,” he mumbles, so softly you almost don’t hear, and then he claims your mouth and slides his hands under your ass at the same time, and you take the hint and grab at his shoulders so he can boost you up. You’re caught between the lean lines of his body and the gnarl of the tree trunk, and every inch of you is so alive with want. His ever-present corn-gold stubble scrapes a little at your skin as you kiss. You welcome the tiny hurt. If this never happens again, you’ll remember those pleasure-pain brushes of his face against yours. You fist your hands in his shirt and roll your hips against his, feel the hard line of his desire for you.
He breathes in sharply. “Want you.”
“Take me.”
He makes that sound low in his throat, sort of half groan, half growl, and his body pins you to the tree as his mouth explores the jut of your jaw and then the line of your neck. You arch to give him better access, keep your hands tight in the country-worn fabric of his shirt. He worries a little mark into the skin above your collarbone, his teeth not sharp enough to draw blood, but deep enough that you’ll have a mark to map with your fingers later. Later, when you touch yourself to the memory of the feel and scent and touch of him.
“Please,” you mutter, half blind with need for more.
“Hang on, baby.” He strokes the straps of your sundress and bra off your shoulder. When he urges the bandeau top of the dress down, the cup of your bra peels away too, and he reveals the slope of your breast. Your nipple pebbles in the air.
“Shit,” Rhett breathes, collecting himself. He boosts you a little higher against him and licks the tip of your breast into his mouth and it’s divine. His tongue is gentle-rough and warm and wet and you keen his name as he sucks and gently bites.
You need more friction, so you start bucking up against him. His breathing is coming in hard pants as he worships with you his tongue.
“Need more,” you manage to utter.
“Gotta put you down for that, baby girl.” And he does that, gently, before holding your gaze as he kneels in front of you, taking your hands and putting them in the smooth locks of his sunshine-cornfield hair.
Your heart races at the implication, and then he bunches the skirt of your sundress in his hands, and puts his mouth on you through the fabric of your underwear.
It’s too much and it’s not enough, and for a second you wonder how you must look, half-wild surely, one breast out of your dress, a man kneeling before you and your hands clutched in his hair-
And then he tugs the material down and licks at you without barriers, and you can’t think anymore. Why would you need to, when you can just feel?
He’s thorough, learning what you like and giving it to you until your knees start to shake. He murmurs some things you make out, like that’s my good girl and that’s it, c’mon, and other words you can’t find the syllables of.
Your muscles clench wildly as he finds that spot and teases it mercilessly. You press yourself into his face and when you come, you see stars behind your closed lids.
Rhett kisses your thigh and you feel him smile against your skin. You half-expect him to make a little quip like how was that?, but he seems content to just be with you, make love to you without some self-image in mind.
Your heartbeat slows and you pull him to his feet for a long, drugging kiss, tasting your own release on his lips.
“More?” he asks, voice a little scratchy now.
“More.” You reach down and unsnap and unzip his jeans. He’s commando, thank the Lord, and he falls hot and heavy into your greedy hands. He swears, low and guttural, as you palm him, learning every ridge and curve. He settles his face into the curve where your neck and shoulder meet, resting one arm on the tree trunk as you explore him.
“Gonna come inside me?” you ask coyly.
Rhett huffs out a half-laugh. You free one hand and push your underwear down a little more, just enough to make what you want possible, and you guide him closer.
“Fuck, honey,” he mutters, and his voice has dropped half at octave with need. A lock of hair falls over his face and you brush it back, tenderly.
“That is the idea,” you smile.
He smiles back, positions himself, then glances back at your face. “You want this?”
“I have since the first time I saw you.”
Wonderment passes over his face and then he’s pushing inside you, and you’re wet enough to ease it enough that he’s balls-deep on the second go, and you both groan at the feeling of it. You clench your muscles tight and his hips thrust on reflex, and you grab at his shoulders and just hang on.
You’ve always known you can’t prepare for a man like Rhett. You just have to buckle in for the ride.
He fucks you single-mindedly, his body working hard to please yours. You piston your hips to meet his thrusts, and the only sound in the thicket of trees is your mingled breaths. Rhett frees a hand to stroke the juncture where your bodies join, and you gasp at the sharp twinge of pleasure, again and again as he worries the little bud of nerves.
You’re panting his name when he covers you mouth for a kiss, swallowing the sound of your orgasm. You milk him for all he’s worth, and he shudders before pulling out suddenly, painting your inner thighs as you ease him through it with your hand.
His chest is heaving as he lets you go, pulling a do-rag from his jeans to clean you up. His gaze is soft and warm as he searches your face, and he must find what he’s looking for, because he finishes tidying your clothes and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
“What?” you ask, when he smiles.
“Didn’t mean t’ do it like that. Here, I mean. I had plans. A hayloft. Some music, maybe.”
Your heart warms and you cup his face. “There’s still time for that.” And you kiss the smile from his face, and it tastes sweet as Kentucky bourbon.
You ride your horses back to the ranch together. Cece’s in the kitchen, making tea. You see her through the window, and when she clocks you both, holding hands and leading your mounts to the stables, she mouths it’s about time.
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People who may like this: @a-reader-and-a-writer @lorecraft @green-socks @skvatnavle @loverhymeswith @babblydrabbly
#rhett abbott#lewis pullman#rhett abbott x female reader#rhett abbott x reader#outer range fic#outer range
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last night I dreamt -
I dreamt I went to a BTS concert. Accidentally swapped dreamscapes with a horse.
Now, I am not a huge fan of BTS. Their music is fun, and I’ve probably watched all their routines because I do like well-choreographed dances - but I dont even remember what they all look like, and I don’t know any of their names.
In this dream, BTS ended the concert by asking if anyone in the crowd wanted a chance to learn some of their choreography and dance on stage at their next show. Everyone else was so excited screaming that they forgot to raise their hand to volunteer. So I raised my hand. Free dance lessons sounded fun. I won the tickets.
After the show ended, an official rep for the band found me waiting in line at the bathroom, and asked to do a quick interview with me. Apparently they were doing a short film about inviting a fan to do choreo, and wanted to know my backstory (how I grew up) to start coming up with video ideas.
Me: Uhhhh, I live in Kentucky, and my mom trained horses to do dressage, I guess?
Them: Perfect!
This somehow resulted in piling into a large van with a bunch of film folks + their cameras, and my Fiance. We drove through some mountains until we reached Kentucky, where I was told I would be introduced to the horse they wanted me to ride onstage, to make the horse dance before I would jump off and join the dance as a person.
So we’re driving past all these amazing horse trainers demonstrating the wild tricks their horses could do in the fields, and ended up at... a farmhouse.
Like, a regular-ass, kinda run-down, dirty kentucky farmhouse. It had a rusted swingset in the front yard, the scraggliest fucking grass on either side of muddy paths, and a wooden wrap-around porch with peeling paint that sagged + bounced a little when you walked on it. Behind it was a very nice barn with beautiful horses and lovely white-painted fences - exactly what I’d expect. Horse people pour their money into their horses, not themselves.
But the film people were distressed! This wasn’t aesthetic! How would they do a beautiful documentary of me meeting this amazing horse and become a talented dressage rider on stage with BTS against such an ugly background!?
So the film people called in a bunch of woodworkers and repair guys to fix up the house to make it pretty, while I dropped my stuff off inside. There’s doilies and hand-made crafts everywhere. Cross-stitching. Hand-carved bears that also resembled dogs. A huge collection of cowboy boots and ALL of them were falling apart at the seams but still caked with dried mud to show they’re used regularly. The guest room smelled vaguely of cigarette smoke and pine sap. Everything is wood-paneled. The bathroom was entirely pastel pink.
All these details that felt like they’d been pulled from every stereotype I’d ever had about old in-use ranch and farmhouses. The outside was fully fleshed out, but the inside sorta....morphed into existence as I wondered something like ‘did they have a bathroom?’
So I met the ‘legendary’ trainer in a barely-lit wood-paneled hallway, shook hands with her, and we went to go back outside to go meet the horse I was to ride.
In the distance, there was BTS petting some other horses at the fence, one of them was laughing and waving at a cell-phone held up to livestream while another kept ripping handfuls of grass up to feed the horses. They had driven in the van behind mine, to make this trip, because they thought ‘BTS learns to ride horses’ would be a fun video for fans to see. (’sure’, I thought ‘That sounds like something rich athletic celebrities would make on a whim’)
But the horse in the barn took one look at me, pinned his ears back and gave me an expression like “Why the fuck are you here?” and tried looking over my shoulder, and I had the odd realization that this wasn’t my dream.
This was the horse’s dream.
The horse was a fan of BTS from hearing them on the barn’s shitty speakers, and wanted to dance on stage with them.
And I was one of a few humans in Kentucky who could make that ‘link’ happen.
Like, apparently reality in a dream could only bend so far before the improbability made the whole thing collapse. You had to make small bends here and there, until all the events could form the path you wanted.
The ‘bends’: Horse wanted to meet BTS and dance with them. I liked dancing, and appreciated BTS enough to theoretically buy tickets. I was also from Kentucky, and I both knew that horses could ‘dance’ via dressage, and could ride horses proficiently. I had the money to buy a ticket to their show, and I’d be game for being in a video project if one was suggested to me. All these little ‘truths’ were able to gently bend the dream’s baseline reality toward getting BTS to this particular farm.
But the horse wanted one of the BTS guys to ride him - Not me.
And I told the horse: I didn’t think BTS had ever ridden a horse, so of course they wouldn’t be placed on such an energetic and excitable young stallion to learn on - they’d end up on a very docile old mare who would just plod along calmly.
And so the horse snapped out of his halter, reared up and transformed into this really terrifying smoky dragon-horse-dark-souls-armor monster thing and screamed at me with a lot of very sharp teeth and sharp face plates. Despite that scary visual description, in the moment I just felt puzzled - not scared.
I left the dream with the impression that it was just the horse throwing an angry tantrum because this was the closest he ever got to actually meeting BTS but no one fucking believed in him!
I felt bad. =(
Anyway, I now believe there’s a horse somewhere in Kentucky who really likes BTS, and is trying to dreamlink his way into that meeting.
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Three Interesting & Oddball Catwoman Comics
So, I'm working on a full Post-Crisis Catwoman reading list (pray for me) but I've realized there are certain comics that, while they wouldn't make any but the most bloated (and / or obsessively complete) reading guides, I find fascinating in some way.
So, here's three issues that are completely optional Catwoman reading: (Below the cut to save your dashboards.)
GREEN ARROW (1988) #86
This comic on its own would be notable because Catwoman made shockingly few out of Gotham guest appearances during the New Earth era. Sure she’d pop up in Batfamily books every other month on average, but times when Selina broke out of the Bat-sphere are truly few and far between. In fact, in terms of guest appearances in other peoples solo titles there’s really only that one digital first Wonder Woman comic where Selina makes a very chibi appearance (it’s great) and… actually that’s the list. Even expanding out to the series of teams that don’t have Batman or Catwoman as members and aren’t Batman adjacent all you have is three pretty good issues of JSA: Classified and a debate about where or not the Birds of Prey being minimum half Gothamite at all times makes them bat-adjacent.
This is genuinely the only guest appearance outside of Gotham she makes that doesn’t come with a bunch of asterisks.
As for the plot of the book, Oliver Queen, currently not in Star City, ends up tangling with some thieves who’ve smuggled Incan artifacts out of Peru. While looking to defeat them he ends up teaming up with early Balent Catwoman.
The interesting thing, for me at least, is that Catwoman’s above board here. She’s not just stealing the artifacts to sell herself, she's been contracted by the government of Peru to return their stolen artifacts. This is, quite possibly, the origin of the “Catwoman who steals artifacts to return them to their country of origin” trope that pops up in fan content from time to time.
To be clear, the comic firmly establishes that Selina’s not doing this out of the kindness of her heart but more that a paycheck’s a paycheck and it’s less hassle than fencing the stuff herself.
Still, it’s interesting to me that this trope both seems to originate in the comics, but also not be there a lot. I haven’t read the bronze age stuff. I haven’t read (all) the New 52 and Rebirth stuff. But I have read almost 600 issues of New Earth Selina Kyle appearances and I'm fairly certain that this is the only appearance of “Catwoman, Government Repo Agent” or “Catwoman, reverse British Museum” in the entirety of the New Earth timeline.
And ain’t that interesting?
BATMAN BLACK AND WHITE (2013) #6/4 "She Lies at Midnite"
Well first things first. Yes this issue was published after the New 52 reboot. However it’s very clearly set in the New Earth continuity. For those unaware, Selina’s personal history, interpersonal relationships, character depth and character development all got nuked by the reboot and this story has tied to several elements that a Non-Canon to the New 52. As such I, like the wiki, am counting this as “basically New Earth”
Secondly, while the other two stories are interesting to me for various meta reasons, this one is simply a compelling story (which also, makes me conscious of not wishing to dissect it like a frog to an audience that might enjoy a blind read.). Though being a Batman centric story, it explores the messier aspects of Bruce and Selina’s relationship in a way that adds a bit of nuance to their relationship while keeping everyone in character (well… there's some lines of dialogue I don't quite vibe with, but everyone's actions, motivations and dynamics are in character and those are the important bits)
Also because it's one story in an anthology it's really short, only 7 pages.
So tell y'all what, I'll talk about the last story first, and then I'll do the full spoiler breakdown of why I find this story fascinating.
CATWOMAN (1993) #89 (HARLEY QUINN EDITION)
This is, I believe, the only issue* of Catwoman where Selina never makes an appearance
Even when Eiko or Holly took over the role she at least made appearances in every issue even if they were minor. Here though? She's only referenced, though she's referenced alot.
(Note: yes Selina doesn't appear in either the first annual or Catwoman 1,000,000. But counterpoint, those are basically Sci-fi and Fantasy AUs and that’s a level of pedantry even I don't care for)
The plot itself goes like this: Doctor Harleen Quinzel goes to a TV company and pitches a show based on the adventures of Catwoman, as seen through Harley’s eyes. It’s a version of events where Harley Quinn is Catwoman’s best friend, and they commit crimes, team up with Poison Ivy, and fight Batman and Commissioner Gordon. The TV executives (who somehow seem oblivious to the fact that A) Catwoman’s a real person and b) the person they’re talking to is a supervillain) start reworking the pitch of the show to be more corporate and kid friendly, much to the anger of Harley who murders the executives with Joker Gas, ending the issue.
Now, talking about a story within a story is always going to get a bit meta, but I’m going to start small and then work my way up to the scene that inspired this whole post.
Firstly… Harley’s TV pitch is where we get specifics on Selina’s parents background. Sure in they’re last appearance Brian was a racist white guy and Maria was clearly a Latina immigrant, but this is I believe the first (and potentially only) time Maria is labeled Cuban and Brian is labeled as Irish. Which also means, unless I'm forgetting another instance of this information being brought up, we’re just taking Harley’s word on this.
Secondly, Harley casting herself as Selina’s best friend is, amazingly, not necessarily incorrect.
For context, this is a year and a half into Harley Quinn’s run as a canon character. Despite that she has interacted with Selina once before. It’s a bit of an involved story but the short version is, Selina get sent to prison. The person in the next cell ends up being Harley Quinn, who Selina ends up telling all about her childhood, then the pair escape, though Harley stabs Selina with a knife to pull it off and then, once they’re free, drugs and hypnotizes Selina into helping with a plan to kill Batman.
Now you’d reasonably think that that’s disqualifying behavior for best friend status but… counterpoint, who else is it? Her sister Maggie? They haven’t talked in a decade (both in universe and out). Holly? Same as Maggie. Arizona? She’s an amnesiac child and even if she remembers Catwoman, the writers have forgotten her. Zee and/or Clutterbuck? They were at best work colleges and ones who haven’t appeared in years at that (also if you remembered they existed at all i am genuinely impressed). One of the other rouges? She’s not great terms with any of them, even the ones who haven’t tried to kill her (which is most of them).
(also "Which orphanage were you in?" damn Selina)
Harley meanwhile is actually the first person in canon that Selina told her backstory to. Harley knew before Bruce about how Selina’s parents died. Also, despite Harley’s mind control gambit, Harley is insistent she cares about Selina, and Selina clearly doesn’t hold that big a grudge as, the same month this issue came out, she was in Harley’s solo for a party.
90s Catwoman, with a few brief exceptions, was so against maintaining a consistent supporting cast for Selina that Harley is the clear winner for the best friend award, at least in this moment of time.
Third, minor point but I Harley’s little fanfic contains not merely the specific Catwoman/Harley/Ivy team up in comics, but also, the first time Ivy and Catwoman have teamed up outside of the Long Halloween (where all the rogues end up working together in the end). Indeed the last time Catwoman and Ivy were in the same comic it was Cataclysm and Selina ended up force feeding Ivy a seed that grew roots out of… everywhere. Needless to say, they weren’t friends at the time. Though, in Harley’s world, they were.
(In fact, for those unfamiliar, during the original Gotham City Sirens run, Selina and Ivy were somewhat antagonistic towards each other, but tried to get along for the sake of their mutual friend Harley Quinn.)
Lastly, and most metatextually interesting, is Harley’s exact words when her story got sanded down for boarder market appeal.
“This isn’t my Story! Catwoman is a grownup! Her Friends are grownups! That big,dumb lump of a Ratman that she flirts with is a grownup! She Steals stuff, she fights with people, she outsmarts the cops! You don’t need to make all those stupid changes— she’s fine just the way she is!”
This story has a cover date of February 2001. Within a year, Brubaker’s run of Catwoman resets the numbering and radically overhauls the character. Catwoman’s characterization pivots out of “selfish loner thief who’s a bit of a bastard with a heart of gold buried so deep it takes mass tragedy to get it to show just a little” to “a vigilante with a found family who’s deeply concerned about the welfare of her one specific run down corner of Gotham.”
She becomes a hero.
Now, I personally really like Brubaker’s run, he’s easily one of the three best writers the character’s ever had, but there’s no denying that it’s a change.
And so, reading that line of Harley’s struck me as… shockingly prophetic. Sure Selina didn’t get aged down into a teenager who solved crimes for the government, but she was toned down into a more explicit robin hood and made less adversarial with Batman.
Now I doubt the line was written with knowledge of where Brubaker’s reboot would take the character, or even that Brubaker had even agreed to helm Catwoman when the script was turned in but… I can’t help but wonder why this issue was written. Because stories about stories are always meta in some way.
BATMAN BLACK AND WHITE (2013) #6/4 "She Lies at Midnite" (For Real this Time)
Right spoilers ago: This story starts with Selina paralyzed.
Bruce takes a bit longer then me getting there but that is how we start. With a explainer that Catwoman got involved in a gang war that was targeting sex workers and got her spine broken for the trouble. And now the doctor is saying that she'll never walk again.
This deeply affects Bruce who has a flashback to Barbara’s paralyzation.
Bruce tracks the two gangs down to a standoff and... to quote Bruce:
I'll spare you the details. Skylight. Gunfire. Screams.
The usual.
It's not until he's done breaking "every leg in the house" that he runs into a surprise appearance: Slam Bradley, who's taking care of the mooks outside.
(for the Catwoman readers: firstly, thanks for reading this far, secondly, Slam’s… honestly an important character overall but the short version is his a bar brawling P.I. who was one of the few love interests Selina’s ever had that’s long term relevant)
Bruce is unsurprised to see him, given his connection to Selina, and tries to commiserate with him in his own Batman-y way, but that's all thrown for a loop when Slam reveals that he's here because Selina asked him to handle these gangs earlier that night (You know, when she should have been conscious in the hospital)
And… honestly I can’t put this next bit better than the comic itself.
Jesus fuck Selina that's cold
Anyway, Bruce immediately tracks Selina down (It's not hard, she's robbing the leaders of the gangs houses while Batman was putting the membership in a hospital) bringing Slam along just cause I guess.
Bruce is beyond pissed off and wants answers and after this... wonderful panel, Selina explains
When Bruce asks why Selina didn't just ask for help, Selina laughs and says "Slammy here, him I could just ask! You'd put it on your tp-do list, somewhere way down, past Joker's latest attempt to poison the water supply or Eddie's latest Head-Scratcher"
That wasn't fast enough for Selina, and given she wasn't up to the job she certainly didn't want it handed off to one of the Robins. Therefore, if it was a job that needed Batman, but it wasn't important enough, Selina had to make it important to Bruce.
Hence... faking being paralyzed and also deliberately invoking one Bruce's old traumas against him. Which I get but also damn Selina.
Bruce is actually so pissed off it looks like he's about to fight Selina, but Selina surrenders instead and the story ends with Selina in the batmobile, in cuffs, (though Bruce agrees to stop for ice cream on the way to the station, indicating he's... maybe cooling off a bit).
While it's not actually the worst thing Selina's ever done to Bruce technically, this incident didn't even draw any blood. It's.... It reads like a profound betrayal of trust. Selina took an insecurity of Bruce's she could only know about after being inducted into the Bat family and used it against him without remorse. (Which... post: Tower of Babel Bruce does not get to criticize this move but it's still cold).
And then, there's the fact that Selina did this because she, reasonably, couldn't actually trust Bruce to help her out without that manipulation. It's not even Selina acting selfishly for once, it's Selina trying to protect innocents.
And the weird thing is, outside of a few dialogue choices, everyone's perfectly in character here. This is a stunt canon Selina would easily pull if the circumstances lined up the same.
I will say, I totally get where Selina's coming from, even sympathize with it a little. Batman is someone who's constantly pulled in a thousand different directions and can't actually be relied on to help in a weird way. There's a reason the worst sections of Gotham keep getting dedicated superheroes (Onyx for the Hill, Catwoman for the East End) and that's because Batman doesn't have the time to help these areas as thoroughly as they need.
And of course, being a part of these communities in a way Batman just can't be, they end up seeing the problems much more up close and personal.
Like, take the original storyline where Selina commits to being a vigilante rather than a supervillain. In that storyline there's a serial killer going after sex workers and while Selina has reason to be invested (She used to be sex worker, she finds out because a friend who is a sex worker shows up at her safe house looking to hide,) the thing that tips her over the edge into action is those things PLUS the inaction of those who should be dealing with the situation. The police straight up do not care (there's a scene where they find a body and they instead of trying to record evidence go through her wallet for cash and crack jokes) and Batman, while he's... not malicious like that, it is called out by Selina that while they may be victims, to Batman they are still criminals in his eye and thus not high on his priority list, even if they are being murdered.
That's all canon.
So... what's Selina to do? There are two gangs tearing up the streets and killing sex workers (which, conversely to Bruce, is something that always sits at the top of her priority list). If she can't just rob them out of existence, doesn't have the skills to fight them on head and win, and Batman ain't doing shit... what opinion does she have but to manipulate Batman into action. (and, to be clear, if Selina had already decided the correct solution to this problem was manipulating Batman, and also had enough time to set up the whole deception, then Batman had time to respond to the situation on his own and didn't.)
To Selina, this whole operation, while a punch below the belt on Bruce and potentially permanently damaging their relationship, would save lives. Her motivations were pure.
It's just...
It's still betraying Bruce's trust, using knowledge of his private pains against him. Skipping right over the asking for help step because she didn't trust him to help. And yet, the only way any of this works is if Bruce trusted Selina enough to let her in, and Selina trusted Bruce to avenge her.
(Also side note: very much the only reason Slam's here is as a counterpoint to Bruce as someone Selina trusted to help without manipulation. Which depending on when this is supposed to be timeline wise (are they dating, is this before or after Selina lost his granddaughter) potentially speaks volumes about Selina's trust in Slam.)
It's such an emotionally messy story for only 7 pages and it’s the sort of shit I live for.
#catwoman#selina kyle#catwoman comics#oh btw that convo about Bruce Selina and trust#Almost segued into their relationship in one of the Legends of the Dark Knight comics#the one where they team up to defeat Thomas Blake the first time he popped up#but I couldn't figure out the transition
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De Fence
We did it! It’s finished! The weather was perfect and Pullen Construction got it done. Okay, it was hardly a construction job, but it was quite a project. But it’s finished and it’s pretty. Pretty is important to me. I can’t wait to do a little landscaping to dress it up.
The mister did a wonderful job and I was a capable assistant. We managed to mark spots for sinking posts and find every rock hard tree root at the same time. Six inches left or right, no roots, but the spot where the post needed to go - petrified wood. Still we persevered and got it done.
Here’s droopy drawers at the beginning.
and here he is when we finished!
Isn’t it just the cutest little fence you’ve ever seen?
The yard slopes down toward the neighbor’s property line and thanks to his math-capable brain we kept it all even and not one bit wonky. I’m amazed when stuff works.
Those lovely shade trees back there actually belong to the town of Denton, though they’re happy for us to trim and pick up after them. Inside the fence we’ll have our two Jane Magnolias and we’re considering a Dogwood way down at the right end of the fence. We’ll see. By the time I’m drawing Social Security it’s going to be gorgeous back there.
I’m tempted to put some Lady Banks roses back there, but I really don’t want anything climbing on that fence that will look scraggly in the winter. I may just plug in some pretty bunches of Black-eyed Susans. That’s a start. That’s also the state flower of Maryland, so surely it would thrive. I can’t help but think a pretty hydrangea would do well in that dappled light. Hmmm. I’ll probably peck away at it this summer, finding plants on the orphan table at Lowe’s. It’ll happen.
In other news, my dang Kentucky Derby pick has scratched! Glad I hadn’t placed my bet already. Honestly, I think it was the universe nudging me to look deeper. You guys, I always look for a gray horse. If that doesn’t pan out, I look for a jockey in pink silks. This year there’s a gray horse whose jockey is wearing pink. Did the stars align for me? Maybe. I’ve placed my bet on Tapit Trice to win. Cross your fingers. I’m due. Mama needs to buy plants.
I’m off to soak my weary bones and head for bed. IT’s about to get really busy around here. I need to make a grocery run because the Edgewater gang is coming for the weekend. Originally they’d planned to come out so that Tyler could help Mickey get the fence up. But I opened my big mouth and asked my husband, “Couldn’t the two of us do it?” I really regretted that after he hit my toe with the post pounder thing. So now they can come and just relax. I never know what to cook when they’re here. You’d think someone who enjoys cooking would just whip stuff out, but Jamie is a much better cook than I am and they eat amazing dinners all the time. I look at my tried and true stuff and it seems pretty boring. I’ll probably do a sheet pan supper one night - kielbasa sausage, taters, green beans, and a side of corn muffins. For Derby Day I‘ll just make pulled pork in the slow cooker. Add some good buns, maybe broccoli salad (should I do baked beans?) and a dessert, and we’re good. Do you have a favorite recipe that feeds a crowd and is semi-healthy? If so, send it to me!
Okie dokie, I’m out. If you need me I’ll be in a bubble bath. I hope things went your way today, if not, I hope it wasn’t too bad. Have a cookie, watch a sweet show, paint your nails, read a good book. Little things can turn a day around.
Sending out loads of love. Stay safe, stay well.
XOXO - Nancy
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February 1st, Bayamo to Baracoa
Breakfast at 7:00, while presentation and service was very nice, fruit was papaya only, juice, watered down papaya and no butter for the small pieces of bread, only mayoand eggs. Shared my P.B. 😉
Hopped into a horse drawn carriage and were given a 45 minute tour of the city. It was really nice. Saw the 1st convent in Cuba, and the homes of the first two presidents of Cuba, the first being Carlos de Cespedes. The first sanctioned outdoor burial ground of the leaders of the revolution of 1868. Previously all burials were in churches. We travelled along a road where all trees had been destroyed by the last big hurricane, all the trunks have been carved into animals and they line both sides of the street. Last a monument to all of those that have died in the revolutions.
Left the beautiful state owned hotel, to get on the road. They were not able to supply us with the box lunch of ham sandwiches as they have a shortage of bread. Plan on stopping at roadside vendors to get fruit etc for lunch.
In the eastern part of the island still lots of old cars but mostly European or Russian models as opposed to North American. We did see what appeared to be a Cuban military base and they seemed to be initiating some new recruits.
Stopped at a roadside stand a bought a large bunch of bananas for 100 pesos and a string of clementines for 200 pesos. Later again, we stopped in a small town and purchase small cheese 8” pizzas/tacos for 50 pesos each.
As we drove along, country fences are now made of different kind of cacti planted so close together that animals can not pass through. Brilliant idea.
In the last few days I have tried to summarize what I think I heard from our CEO and signage I’ve seen, however, due to no internet I have not been able to fact check, so I hope I am recording the proper facts.
So, during our ride today, we talked about the revolution again where Cuba revolted against Spain. The first revolution lasted 10 years from 1868 to 1878 and was not successful. Again they attempted in 1895 led by Matta, by 1998 they were actually seeking help from the Americans. The Americans came to their aid and there was a big naval battle that ended the revolution and occupation of Spain. Cuban thought they had gained their independence but the Platt clause from the US Government, was that if Cuba wanted to be an independent country, they had to allow a army base and that the US could intervene if Cuban leadership became questionable. Thus the Guatamanno Bay base.
Takes a long time to get anywhere as you share the road with bicycles, horses and carts, rickshaws, motor bikes and cars and trucks. Flagged down by a police officer today, and when we stopped he was trying arrange a ride for his grown nephew on our bus. Answer was no.
We stop for our lunch at 2:30 p.m. at a beach on the Caribbean Sea where we had our pizza, pineapple, tomatoes and bananas. No sand on these beaches just polished rock and pieces of washed up coral. Proceeded to travel on a winding road through the mountains to Baracoa, for several hours. All S curves.
Arrive at our Casa around 5:30 p.m., Casa Elvira. Larry and I are on the 3rd floor and have an outdoor patio area on the roof. It is a very interesting home and we are going to enjoy our few days here. The place is owned by Elvira and Alfredo. We joined our group for a short walk around the city, but it was dark already, so we headed to our dinner place which was a private house dinner. The chef was amazing. We started with bread and papaya juice and cream of pumpkin soup, then tomatoes, cucumber, yams, plantain and coconut milk mixed and green beans. A curry coconut sauce was provided with the vegetables. Main course was sword fish, chicken deep fried jams and another root vegetable. Dessert was sliced papaya and marinated glazed orange peel with cinnamon served with espresso coffee. Could hardly walk and all for 1440 pesos each. Walked back to the Casa, showered and to bed. Big day tomorrow.
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some addendums
"Rim! But that's actually a fake name, a code name if you like. Cause names have power so you don't just want go and give your name away to everybody" wait i did not fuuuucking know this line that rim says in 2.0 is fucking attributable back to 1.0 and to moopy. wow.
2. THE BOYS ARE FIGHTINGGGG
WOLFLOVER21: (Hey guys hard to say this but I don't think I can keep up with this fast pace!)
SCRATCHLOVER999: I can hardly keep up too.
TOESOCKSQUEEN: It only takes like 5 minutes to reread things. :)
RASSBERRYCALLING: Hey my caras practically the main one right now and even the pace is so fast, I ain't top dog any more.
everyone is showing themselves excellently here. my own comments, if any existed, have been lost to scratch 2.0 update selective deletion. jack wins "scariest" - his 12 year old self's "i'm going to put a smiley face at the end of something kinda mean" strats scare me to this day. rp structure precludes "main characters", the word augustine is looking for is "plot driver", but we appreciate his diplomacy in reaching out to the other team. the katia jack and augustine school of friend group beef: "when you guys are being mean to virginia it is for petty and ridiculous reasons and you should apologize right now. when i am being mean to virginia my rage is holy and righteous and it is the only reasonable thing to be doing." so it continued for like two whole years.
3. rim asking monoceros "did you burn down goatville and if so why" was deeply embarrassing to me even at the time because my ass did NOT have a good answer for him
4. monoceros says he "used a fire extranei" to set fire to goatville, a fact that never reoccurs and is worth considering as an alternate plot for adventure 3.3 but i'm on the fence
5. captain pathetic perking up when he hears vague reaffirmations that his girlfriend has not dumped him yet (she has expressed no intention of doing so)
Chuji turned her attention away from James and quietly walked across the room. "Quartz honestly.. You torture my obsidian to much." she giggled.
Obsidian perked up slightly and smiled at Chuji.
Also: this follows a completely insipid argument between obsidian and quartz that (if you adjust for Bad Writing Behaviors) reveals sad and real things about Quartz being very afraid of anything bad happening, from death to mild inconvenience, to the only family she has left. And also: "tozi stared at the wall, wanting them to shut up." omg the boys are fightinggggg what will happen????
6. as a final note before i start reading this summary of contributions: checking in with the quartz and spark show.
"Are you okay?" She placed the back of her hand on Quartz's forehead. "Nope. Not a fever."
"Nothing like that," she muttered. "Just a bad mood..."
"What is it? You can tell me. We're best friends remember?" She grinned.
"Of course. But don't tell anyone." Quartz looked down. "I acted like a bit of an idiot in the morning today, sort of overreacted." she began.
"But it gets the message across.. I'm worried about Obsidian. He's the only family I have left, and I love him more than anyone on earth."
"He used to be so happy, but now....It's Chuji isn't it?"
"Maybe," she replied, kicking moodily at a stone. "Tozi, that is. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's back,but... Well, Obsidian had always reacted to Tozi in strange ways. Ever since he came."
Spark looked at the ground. She loved Tozi, but knew it would never work out. He loved Chuji and that was the way things were.
Quartz glanced sideways at her. "We're wallowing in self-pity, Spark," she laughed. "BACON!"
Spark giggled. Love wasn't everything, she still had a great best friend.
Then they yell a bunch of other ~omgeh so random X3~ words like "biscuits" and "totoro" because sometimes they are mild to moderate self inserts of how jack and katia see themselves at age 12. and within that context, it's quite sweet. the end <3 next time on the ill advised aote reread: the infamous poppyworth scene, and then OMG! LUPUS AND KY BROKE UP LAST NIGHT
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Gravedigger's Mania CH1
“Is a poor man more virtuous than a rich man?” Old Jim asked. In his sermon voice, Old Jim recited a passage he heard back when he lived in the godless theocracy. How Old Jim managed to make it hundreds of miles through noman’s land and swamp to become a gravedigger, Vincent didn’t know.
“No, I’m poor, and you can have your watch back,” Vincent said.
He didn’t mean to do it, but sometimes he couldn’t help but take things from other people. Kleptomania was a serious disease, and if he wasn’t in the republic, he would have already lost both hands.
By the sun, it was nearly his turn to start digging again. Vincent often took the longest since he didn’t have the gravedigger class.
“Thanks, it was my father’s; how many attributes do you have now?” Old Jim asked.
While Old Jim was talking, Vincent watched Ralf inspect the corpse sled. Necromantic spells on the bodies kept them fresh from the battlefields of no man’s land. They shouldn’t move, but one clearly twitched like a roach with a crushed head. Only in their line of work, when things twitched, often it was still alive or returning to unlife.
“9 and give me a hand,” Vincent said.
He had 9 attributes and only needed one more to have a set of 10. He could take a class that would fit him the best. Old Jim told him about it. For twenty years, he has used his low status to cheaply get blood for his sister. There were laws to afford the classless some benefits, but they were helping less each year. Most of his profits came from theft laundered through his gravedigging job. It was all for his little sister to keep her on the right side of the law.
“Am I the only one who reads the safety guides?” Old Jim asked.
Vincent pulled Ralf away from the sled as a body fought its way out from the mound of corpses. Old Jim raised his shovel and bashed it on the head. He would like to say the skull split like a dropped melon, but that would be a lie. It split for a moment, and then the broken skull fit itself back together. Only werewolves and their ilk could heal like that. Vampires looked more like reversing time or flowing water. Either way, what he was seeing, wasn’t it. He didn’t want to get close to something that could withstand Old Jim’s Gravedigger lvl97 strength.
Gravediggers weren’t martial classes but could shovel through rocks without a problem. So old Jim stabbed the man in the chest with his shovel and threw him into the half-dug hole. From there, together, we started burying it.
Once it was buried, Vincent sighed with relief before checking his human species tab.
Human lvl0 exp 95/100
He never knew if he helped people for the exp or because he liked helping others. Old Jim would say it didn’t matter, but it did to him. Vincent was close to crossing into his first level, and it wasn’t even a class. He didn’t know anyone with levels in human. Most chose to get bitten by a vampire, werewolf, or turned into a traditional undead.
“I’ll go tell Resneck he will want to know we have a bunch of were creatures rising,” Ralf said.
Old Jim spat on the ground. “Good luck with that. I haven’t seen him all day; we’re better off running.”
“What do you mean by that? If he isn’t here and we run, they’ll see us as prey, and we’ll be swarmed.” Ralf said.
They were damned if they did and damned if they didn’t. But, like rats in a wooden box, there was no easy way out. Vincent pressed a hand into his pocket and winced.
“Here are your coins back. I forgot they were in my pocket.” Vincent said.
He pulled the coins out along with Resneck’s amulet. The clearly enchanted item would sell for a few gold pieces if he could find a fence to take it. All he needed was to be reported as a thief capable of stealing from the royal family. Then, Vincent would be shipped off to the front lines and made to take a thief or black ranger class. Raiding the camps of the enemies and stealing supplies was a great way to die from a knight’s mace.
“Thank you; if we survive this, remind me to sock you in the nose for your trouble,” Ralf said.
“Sure. Do you want your dagger back?” Vincent asked.
“That would be wonderful, thank you,” Ralf said.
Vincent returned his stolen goods and waited for what he knew would begin their doom. The sun set behind a broken stock tower. One of the only guard outposts in the Stock Countryside. The next tower with anything resembling a black knight was twenty miles away. A black knight might not think the deaths of a few gravediggers to raise were monsters was a fair trade. After a were creature’s first transformation and kill, they chilled out and gained control over themselves.
“I heard if you ate plenty of garlic, they would leave you alone.” Old Jim said.
“What’s Garlic?” Ralf asked.
“Contraband, my sister hates it,” Vincent said.
The other three men in their group were new and about ready to bolt. He couldn’t blame them. Vincent might have bolted, too, if this was his first time. Experience had taught him those who bolted were often killed first. Once, the were creatures erupted from a nearby corpse sled and ripped a man in half.
“The black knights will come; we’ll see the silver fangs on black shining soon enough.” A man said.
“What hallucinogens is that guy on?” Vincent checked his stats and compared them to the nearest werebat. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was the breed of, were beast they were dealing with. Well, they were in lands of the great family Camazotz so that was to be expected. But, growing up, he knew werewolves, werehynas, werebears, and even a werehorse the werebat was new. “Did lord Kan decide to try infecting vampires with a were-creature strain again?” Vincent asked.
The others looked shocked at his words, except for old Jim. “What are you guys gawking at? We need to get some distance?”
“We aren’t far from the shelter; if we can get to it in time, we can wait this out until morning,” Ralf said.
Before Vincent could say how unlikely they were to hide from creatures with eco location in a cramped hole in the ground, a bat with a 70-hand wingspan stabbed its talons through Ralf’s shoulders and carried him off screaming.
“The tower is our only chance.” Old Jim said.
Vincent moved in a fast march with his group. The sun had already halfway descended the tower as they made their way there. Men screamed before giant bats took them in the fading light. He pushed one man out of the way of talons, only for another bat to get him. While they didn’t run, they hurried to the tower and saved a few people. Old Jim’s shovel knocked a few bats away, keeping them mostly safe.
“Why do you have 9 attributes and no class?” A guy from their original team asked.
Old Jim answered for him. “Nobles in the godless theocracy don’t take a class until they are nearly my age. They instead collect different attributes until they have 10 of them. Then when they take a class, they get an 11th secret attribute.”
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“Yea, it's from the godless theocracy; why would our republic need their filth. I heard over there humans have levels like vampires and werewolves.” Another man said.
Vincent was trying to do something similar. It wasn’t a taboo so much as it was difficult in his current culture. Saving people’s lives took a lot of grit. Instead of becoming a liability himself, he had to run into danger and help.
“How strong are the bats? Can we fight them at all?” One man asked.
“Vincent, you’re the numbers guy; what do you think?” Old Jim asked.
The classless 30-year-old man used scan; his eyes glowed blue, his gaze fell on one of the bats, and he felt a headache coming on.
Charles lvl26
Species: Werebat lvl4
Class: Bloodreaver lvl22
He scanned a few more and found similar results. Vincent let his eyes return to normal and shook his head.
“That bad,” Old Jim said.
“None of them are below lvl20, and they all have a martial class that synergizes with their werebat species. I can’t see titles, so they could be much stronger than expected.” Vincent shivered while he crunched the numbers in his head. “They could one hit kill Old Jim, and he’s the strongest guy here. Even a Black Knight would have trouble with them 1v1 add more, and it’s a death sentence. They are overspecialized in dealing damage to high HP enemies. Blood reavers get armor piercing at lvl20.” Vincent said.
The classless human pulled at his hair, trying to think of anything.
“We need a backup plan if the tower doesn’t work. Where are we close to.” Old Jim said.
Vincent thought about it. “Dragon’s Log would be safest.”
He thought about the flesh-eating parasites, mutated monsters, and dragons that used that place as a dumping ground. The classless human added an asterisk by safest. If they went in, there were some places to hide away while the werebats tromped through and picked a fight with something more powerful than them.
Vincent knew he had to get home to his sister. That thought was enough to spur him on and get him through the dark mood. To that end, he pulled a man from stepping into a sinkhole. He happened to have the best night vision around.
They reached the broken stack tower, and Vincent hammered on the door. A werebat dove low, and Old Jim smashed it to the ground with his shovel. The old man fought the creature while the others beat it with shovels.
“Go away.” A voice like grinding rocks said.
“We need help; our minder has gone missing; a citizen of Camazotz is in danger.” They all knew the black knight wouldn’t open his door for them. They were gravediggers, the lowest of the low in the republic. They needed to mention their minder if they wanted the knight to help them. Even a dhampir was a full citizen because he had the name Camazotz. Vincent waited for the man to either open the door or say something. Instead, he heard the bolts in the door clink shut, leaving them trapped.
“Fine, be that way. If you need help, don’t come crying to us. They can fly genius, and I’m sure you’ll make a great meal.” Vincent didn’t get a reply. The man had already returned to his duties. But then, a bright light stole his attention. Old Jim had finally become a lvl100 gravedigger and could choose another class. “Damn it, Jim, they are all coming for us.” On their wings, the monsters flew after them in a swarm.
Black ghastly energy swirled around Old Jim. He had chosen a class already. His second class shown from a quick scan.
Old Jim lvl101
Species: Human
Classes
Gravedigger lvl100
Black Berserker lvl1
He couldn’t believe it. Old Jim was someone. If he abandoned them and fought carefully, he could survive until morning, maybe with a few levels to show for it. After that, he would immediately join one of the many soldier companies and gain a higher status in the republic.
Old Jim took out his pipe and held his hand out to Vincent. “I would like my hash back.”
Vincent didn’t know how it ended up in his pocket but handed it to Old Jim all the same. The old man lit his pipe and pointed towards the Dragon’s Log.
“Not without you,” Vincent said.
“You’re a good boy Vincent, but you need to take care of that sister of yours. She is a brat; when you’re not around, that mouth of hers will get the both of you in trouble. Thanks for saving me.” Old Jim said.
This was it. Vincent knew it at that moment. Old Jim wasn’t walking out of his next fight. Light enveloped him as he gained his first level after 30 years of life. He hugged the old man and joined the others to escape the werebats. The creatures still picked apart their numbers as they fled until they were preyed upon by the monsters in the dragon’s log.
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So you know how one of the essential questions humans ask when they are faced with either themselves not fitting into society or seeing someone else not fit into society it “if you’re not human, what are you?”
Answers over time range from divine (usually religion) to undead to robots to fae. they’re all metaphors to try to understand why you can clearly look human but feel like you aren’t because society has so thoroughly rejected you and/or you just don’t get other people.
I was feeling that the past couple of days, and last night my heart asked in my dreams, “if I’m not human, what am I?” What did my subconscious answer my heart?
I am Lugia.
You read that right. As in the pokemon, Lugia. Freaking Lugia! I’ve never even played gen 2!
And I had several influences that should have guided my dream’s answer. I’m religious, was expecting “child of god” type moment. Write lots of fanfic, superhero/witch was definitely a possible answer, urban fantasy is one of my favorite genres, it should have happened that way.
Nope. Lugia. Plot twist I was not expecting from my own dream. But it was a dream and the plot must go on.
Full dream: I was feeling the familiar things: loneliness, unable to connect with people and make friends, failing at work, missing family and familiarity, feeling like I wasn’t achieving what I wanted to, wondering if anyone would ever fall in love with me after I got dumped because I don’t have non-marital sex or drink alcohol. Wondering if I am ever going to fit in.
I’m in my home in my dream (like my actual current residence but in the middle of a landmass instead of near the ocean, like kansas or something), on my balcony, and I notice a commotion in the animal pen down the street.
I go down to check it out and someone is laying on the ground in the pen, animals milling around them, clearly having given up on everything.
I think well, life may suck, but I can help this guy out
“Hey get up and out of there. Come on.”
“Leave me alone,” he answered. No idea what he looks like, I’m talking to air or maybe a bunch of penned sheep in my dream.
“No. It may not look like it, but I know what you’re going through.”
“I seriously doubt that,” he replied, still on the ground blocked by fence/sheepies
My answer is directed by my subconscious for whatever reason to be, “Yeah, I do Ho-oh. I’m Lugia, I get it, humans are impossible to understand.”
Welp, now it’s pokemon world, and I’m a Lugia pulling a Latias movie Latias, let’s go.
He sits up yelling, “Sea Maiden!” then asks me something along the lines of why I’m so far from the sea. I say something about wanting to use my time as a human to experience land, but it isn’t as great as I thought.
Ho-oh ends up living beside me, not with me because he’s too much of a disaster and I’m kinda attracted to him as my fated counterpart and I don’t do pre-marital sex. He’s grumbly and irritating, but we start figuring out all our adult human problems together.
I remember one scene where I stood in a storm, and I was kind of waiting for Ho-oh to come out and talk to me cliche style, but he doesn’t and I go back in when I’m done with the storm and he doesn’t say anything. I explain that it isn’t like the sea, and he just shrugs and offers me a towel.
At one point we look at trainers with pokeballs, but know we can’t join that part of being human for whatever reason, though we consider it.
The only other scene I remember clearly from the dream is the ending. We were called on as region defenders to protect/fight, and we’re flying 2nd movie style, propelled by sheaths of wind, and we’re having so much fun as we battle the lesser threat. I land in a cave for a break, and there’s a note or phone with a video or something. I know Ho-oh has left it here for me as a break for some reason, and the thought of him wanting me entertained while I take a break makes me incredibly happy and dream me is in love at this point.
I wake up before I see the contents of the thing Ho-oh left me.
Deconstructing the symbols Lugia represents to me and with more thought, I get it.
Part of it was my religious understanding of myself as a child of god, the attribute that was making it hard to fit in had to be special and sacred in some way. Legendary pokemon are rare, protectors and powerful. Lugia fit the divine angle.
Part of it was I spent this last week restless during the thunderstorms so I went swimming for the best view of the lightning. I’ve also been dipping into the Zutara tag this week. The rage of a storm trapped in human skin needed to be felt. Who better than the pokemon that causes storms when it’s wings beat, and so needs to stay in hibernation.
I live near the ocean now, but I grew up much more small town and land locked. Dream me had wanted to see land for miles, because a lugia would have only seen ocean. Dream me, like awake me, had sought adventure and different, and found it not as satisfying as she hoped and missing the familiar. Where I live now if far, far away from everything I grew up with. It has it’s exciting parts, and part of me knows I wouldn’t be happy in my parents house where I grew up, but it’s not as much as I hoped.
Ho-oh was clearly the companionship I currently crave. Most of the feelings I remember about him weren’t romantic. He didn’t necessarily make my life easier, it wasn’t the dramatic understanding of a soulmate, but he made choices so that I would be in his life. He chose to be around me while he was whining about bills and I was the only one he could talk to about the pokemon trainer thing. I wasn’t lonely. (Clearly this was influenced by my current influx of Howl’s Moving Castle content) (and zutara, digging the thematic moon/sun parallels and Lugia/Ho-oh hit the spot for dream me apparently)
So I get it.
Still weird as hell to know that on a psychologically deep level, my brain thinks that if I wasn’t human, I’d be Lugia.
#personal#full dream and psychological analysis under the cut#pokemon#lugia#I am lugia#my subconscious says so#if you're ho-oh currently face down in a pile of animal poo#hit me up#okay to reblog#one time I dreamt i was lugia
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Take Me Out of This Prison
My kids and their friends were exploring a canyon and found themselves at the fence of an elementary school during recess.
A bunch of unmasked school kids staring at a group of masked up wild children, staring back.
“Take me out of this prison! Take me to freedom with you!” One of the kids jokingly (I assume) said.
A teacher came over and asked if my kids were with their parents (yes). He then warned them about snake danger in that canyon (good call).
I keep picturing that fence. The unmasked caged children. The wild masked children. There is a short film in there somewhere.
Y has been working through a lot of pre-covid memories lately. He has obviously been holding all this inside. It makes me realize how NOT there I was in those moments - what a different lens I held up to see him through.
Tonight, Y asked me about an incident from the past. He was recovering from an illness and I tried to convince him to attend a school event. He put his foot down and I relented. But obviously for him it was not over. Two and a half years later, he asked me why I insisted like that. His feelings were still hurt - he had gotten his way, but not my real, heart-felt acceptance of his decision.
I told him the truth. Before pandemic life and homeschooling, I cared a lot about meeting (and exceeding) the expectation of the school and the teachers. I cared about fitting in. I pushed my kids to do what felt right to me, not to them. Not only for the sake of appearances - I supplanted their comfort level for my own. I apologized. I told him this is my first time parenting and that I am doing my best and learning all the time.
I shared with him how much I learn from him. Y is a shining star. He is so bright and bold and never, ever going to fit into a round hole like everyone else. He doesn’t care about fitting in with a group if it means going against his inner voice. Yet he can fit in with - and lead - a group if it is in line with his inner drive. He has tremendous energy for the things he wants to do and no time to waste on the things that don’t interest him. Yet he can and does do things that must be done, even if he doesn’t like them, provided he understands the reasons behind it. He is a kind, sweet, caring, funny, energetic, imaginative, creative person who can lead himself - he does not need or want others to hold his reins or tamper with his power in any way.
He said he likes spending so much time with his family. He likes that the life we have now is not rushing everywhere. He feels that his life is good.
As we talked, I felt so proud of him, so grateful that this person is in my life. I felt doubly honored to parent him respectfully because my husband is so like Y and was not listened to or treated with due care and together we break that pattern for our children.
And I felt immense gratitude and relief that I have gone through this pandemic experience, so that I can be the kind of parent that I am now. Please god, let me continue to be a person who listens, who works alongside, who respects. What was I missing, trying to get to school on time? What was I missing, feeling embarrassed that he was too loud or always had his clothes on backward? What was I missing when I didn’t listen, I told. Thank god I have arrived here at this moment, seeing the changes I have made for the better - a child who is empowered, who is healing himself, who is doing this in partnership with me because I opened that door. Tonight I think: how can I ever doubt myself? How can I every doubt my child? How can I every doubt homeschooling, unschooling, like this? And could school have been better, more satisfying, and less stressful for Y if I had approached it with this mindset: an advocate for my child rather than an overgrown student ready to please?
The most important person in MY homeschooling journey is ME. The person who needs to deschool the most - me. The person who needed to read all of those books and blogs and grapple with the ideas about unschooling - me. My kids are not me. They have had 3.75 years in school; I have had 27. And my journey in education is ever unfolding, always beginning.
I am filled with gratitude tonight at the education I have received this past two years and three months. What began as lockdown has begun to set all of us free in ways we never thought possible. The work is not over; it’s not done being hard. But I will acknowledge all I have done to get myself, and subsequently, us, “out of this prison.”
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domestic disturbance.
summary — there's a murder in the richest neighborhood of seoul and there's no better detectives to find the killer besides you and bang chan. or, in which you and chan have to be a pretend couple to catch a killer.
pairing — bang chan x reader
genre — fluff, crime, smut | detectives!au, fwb!au, fake marriage!au
word count — 21k words.
warnings — mentions of crime, ie, blood, killings, (one line of) gruesome murder scene, language, along with a whodunnit plot, mentions of cheating (not the main leads), and smut | smut specifications under the cut
smut specs. — established fwb!au where they know each other's limits already, dirty talk, praise kink, grinding, marking and hickeys, choking/asphyxiation, nipple play, breast play, sex in multiple places (on the table, against the wall, on the bed), blowjob, face fucking, deepthroating, cunnilingus, clitoral stimulation, cervical stimulation, edging, overstimulation, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering, creampie, size kink. oh well!
note — this is part of the christmas collab i’m hosting with few other mutuals. i hated this fic and then fell in love madly with it, so yes, this is my baby. there is a plot and so it’s like 50% fluff, 30% crime and 20% smut, okay? i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i loved writing it! much love x
"Did I have to come in today?"
"Mayor Arsehole came in," you hear from the phone and you quickly hop off your bed, throwing the phone back on to the bed after putting it on speaker and rushing to the washroom to grab your toothbrush.
"What does he want now?"
You squeeze the end of the toothpaste carefully, pushing a good amount of toothpaste onto the bristles of the brush before shoving it into your mouth, brushing against the enamel of your teeth quickly and you rush back to your bed.
Chan, on the other end of the phone, plays with the pen on his table, clicking the piston on the top of the mechanical device. He watches the Mayor move his hands dramatically and the Captain trying to make the Mayor understand.
He gets back to you. Dropping the pen, he sits up straight, "Anyhow, come in quick. My gut tells me that they'll call us in, so make it quick. Wait—"
You rush back to the bathroom in a hurry, spitting into the sink and turning the tap on, quickly cleaning your mouth and your face, following a small skincare routine that fits your busy schedule.
"What?" You say after forever and Chan screams, "I knew it."
"Did you just wake up?"
"Yes," you respond, and pull your clothes up from your body and down by the side of the bed mindlessly.
"Holy shit," Chan laughs. "It's nine. Han's going to be so mad. He thinks you're in office already." You hear his chair reclining back and you roll your eyes. "Plus," his voice lowers and you stop in your tracks, hand midway to grab your faux leather jacket.
"What now?"
"I didn't even keep you occupied last night," Chan teases. "Imagine if I did."
"I'm hanging up, you bastard," you yell and Chan laughs, his laughter resonating through your small room and making you smile softly.
"Come quickly, little minx," and he hangs up. You hop back onto your bed, and pulling the pair of thigh high boots you always wear from underneath the wooden framing of the bed, you bury your feet into them and look at your phone.
Bang Christopher Chan is perhaps the only reason you are excited to go to work. That, and lying, murderous bastards.
Down at the station, twenty minutes later (still possibly the best record you've held so far), you rush into the office, heels clinking against the tiles and Chan's waiting for you by his cubicle, smirk prominent on his face and arms folded.
"The queen's here," he teases and you glare. Huffing as you pause right in front of him, you look over his shoulder to see the Mayor still talking to the Captain.
"I'm not late," you squeal, hitting the air in joy and Chan lets you have your moment before sitting back on his chair and breaking it.
"They called for us twice already," Chan tells you and you shudder at the impending doom. You can already feel Captain Han talking about cutting your paychecks for the month for tardiness. You sit on his table, one leg on the ground and the other dangling, heel slightly grazing Chan's black denims.
"What did you tell them?"
He picks up the pen and stares at you, clicking the pen. You narrow your eyes at him, staring at the pen and mumbling, "Stop that, Chan. I've told you it's annoying."
"I do it to annoy you. That's the whole point," he raises his eyebrows obviously and you click your tongue against him and move closer.
"Now," you press on. "What did you tell Ji?"
"Oh, that you have diarrhoea?"
"What the fuck?" And you bend forward, hitting the built man before you, your fists hammering down on his hard biceps and chest. "Why would you say that?"
Chan raises his hands in defense, trying to block as many of your hits as possible. He whines, laughing amusingly at your reaction. He holds your wrists quickly to halt your actions and tugging at them, pulling you closer, he raises an eyebrow, "What else am I supposed to say? That you didn't come in yet?"
You gulp, eyes widening in surprise at the sudden intimacy that you pull yourself away and sit straight, dangling your legs slightly. You tilt your head and look at him. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you say, "Valid point you make there, sir."
"When have I not made valid points?" Chan leans back on his chair, arms folded and he looks at you intently, his eyes staring into your soul and you raise your eyebrows.
"Wh—"
"The two of you," you hear the voice boom through the room. Chan and you turn your heads to look at Captain Han Jisung pop his head through the slightly opened door and calling the two of you. "In my room, now."
"Uh oh," Chan mumbles under his breath as he stands up. "Someone's in trouble."
"It's probably you," you glare at him. Hopping off his table, you stand firmly on your boots, tapping your feet slightly in confidence. Chan walks forward and you take longer strides to keep up with him.
"It could never be me. I'm the district's star detective."
"When hell turns cold, yeah."
You and Chan step into Captain Han Jisung's office. He sits behind the wooden desk and Deputy Mayor Seo Changbin stands next to him. The glass walls behind him show a clear view of the beautiful city of Seoul. You smile as you proceed to sit before the Captain, leg on top of the other. Chan sits next to you.
The pictures from a file are scattered all over his table, facing the two of you and your hand instinctively reaches out to grab one. It's a man's body — gruesome enough with the blood that covers it — impaled brutally on the sharp fence spikes.
Chan's eyebrows shoot up and he coughs in surprise. He looks at Jisung with disdain for a short minute before he says, "That is totally not helping with my holiday spirits, Han."
"Captain Han," Jisung reaffirms as he looks at Chan with a glare and gestures at how he should show him respect at least in front of the Deputy Mayor. You chuckle slightly under your breath before putting the picture back on the table.
"What exactly are we looking at, Captain?"
Jisung clears his throat and bends forward to explain, "That is Kim Jihoon. Or at least whatever is left of him. He was found like this today morning by his neighbour. Apparently he fell three stories from his balcony. Kim Jihoon is a data analyst in Samaun Tech—"
"And more importantly, a model resident in the UN Village community." Changbin is stern and his eyes pierce into both yours and Chan's soul as if it demands the two of you to solve the murder right this minute.
"UN Village?" Chan's eyes narrow and your head turns so quickly to look at him. Does he know of the area? "That's the new gated community down in the city, right?"
Changbin scoffs, smirk plastered on his face as he looks away. "Yes, Detective. It's one of the most luxurious communities in Seoul. I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about it."
"Hey—" You raise your voice to come to Chan's defense. However, the man is quick himself.
"Oh, I'm pretty sure I have an idea what it is like. Just a bunch of rich old men sitting with their glasses of wine as they are locked away from the city's woes by their big high walls. I have watched enough Sky Castle."
You laugh, eyes wrinkling in mirth as you hear Chan take offense. You raise your hand up and your partner claps at it, laughing with you. Changbin scoffs again before turning to look at Jisung who clears his throat to stop the two of you from laughing and to bring your attention back.
"I've brought the two of you in here because you will be investigating the death of Jihoon."
"But—"
"It's Christmas in a few days!"
"We're not in office, Ji," you whine. "Felix and Soojin would be taking our shifts for that week. You gave us the permission after the last case. Don't you remember?"
"Is that how much you care about the citizens?" The mayor shoots at the two of you and for a minute, you cower in your seat, before Chan looks at you worriedly as you recoil.
"Hey, hey, hey," his eyebrows furrow together in anger at the Mayor and you worry if Chan's going to completely lash out. He never did like Changbin in the first place. That and now this and you know this could end bad. "We care enough about the citizens. But look at you. The Mayor comes down personally to hand in a case only when it's some rich community. What? Do you have an apartment there?"
"While you think this highly of me, I can't help but humble myself here," Changbin slams his fist down and Chan rises up. Uh oh! The Mayor edges forward as he continues, "I am very much concerned about the city as well."
"Please," Chan rolls his eyes. Jisung is about to pipe in and stop the conflict when Changbin continues proudly.
"I'll have you know that the UN Village is one of the most exciting residential areas to live in, in Seoul and is one of the most beneficial developments made in a decade here. If it is successful, I can drive almost millions to the city through estate taxes and commerce. And must I remind you of how that is the biggest point in my political agenda—"
"Your political agenda!" Chan is at his patience's end and your arm stretches out to grip at his shirt, to pull him back from fighting but your partner is so caught up in his anger that he doesn't feel you pull at him. "Must I remind you that you are still the Deputy Mayor!"
"Stop it, both of you!" Jisung slams his hands on the table and you let out an exasperated sigh as you sit up straight. "This is a murder and I won't have the two of you argue over here. Deputy Mayor Seo, if you are done conveying what you came here for, I will have to ask you to leave. I need to talk and assign work to my detectives."
"Absolutely," Changbin smiles widely — almost borderline fake — before walking away and reminding Jisung, "I hope you remember what I asked of you, Captain." He bangs the door shut and Jisung mumbles incoherent words under his breath. Needless to say, it was safe to presume they were words hoping good will for Deputy Mayor Seo Changbin.
"Now the two of you," Jisung points at both Chan and you. He gestures at the built man to sit down. "You will be taking this case up. I will not have a word against it."
"But—"
"Unless you want your sex tape to be released and the two of you want to be suspended for indecent public behaviour."
"What?" Both you and Chan tell at the same time, looking at each other in nothing but sheer confusion and shock at the same time. It was clear that you and him have not made a sex tape or publically — fuck. Unless it is that.
"I mean, I was definitely not interested in seeing my star detectives getting on with each other in the evidence room." Jisung raises his eyebrows.
"Are you blackmailing us, Han?" Chan's tongue prods at his inner cheek in frustration. Today was supposed to be a good day, so he wonders why things are going down the hill.
"I guess." He lifts an eyebrow at you and you click your tongue before leaning forward and taking the picture.
"Fine. I'm in."
"I don't mind getting a copy of the sex tape," Chan mumbles and you hit your partner with your elbow over his nonchalance. You are not going to get suspended. It was too much for your reputation.
"Good," Jisung smiles. You stare at the picture carefully, looking at how the sharp spikes of the fence pierces into the man's abdomen, pinning him to the fence. Chan is about to take the picture from your hand when you ask,
"This could be an accident."
Chan takes it and looks at it before nodding, "Yeah. You know how rich drunk people are. They might have partied too hard and stumbled and fallen off their balcony."
"I thought that," Jisung mumbles before searching through the pictures. He lifts one off the table and hands it to you. "Until I was informed that this is the second murder UN Village has witnessed in less than a month."
The photo Jisung hands you is of a woman. She lies face down, her stomach pierced through by the sharp spikes of the fence — a bloody contrast to the fresh greens in her yard.
"Why am I celebrating my holidays like this?" Chan groans, as he leans towards you, his arms touching yours. He looks at the pictures and then at you for a short while as he watches you observe the photo carefully. The gears in his head are turning and his emotions are an array of mess but he reminds himself to focus on the case in hand. That is exactly what you would have wanted him to do.
"She's Yoon Yerin, who lived just up the street from Kim Jihoon. She was found like this two weeks ago." Jisung points out.
"Can't still label murder, Han. As Y/N said, it could be just an accident. They could be drinking red wine and partying, screwing each other on balconies. Hell, I'm surprised that only two have died so far."
You suppress your amusement and look at Jisung who explains, "I thought the same as well, detectives. The possibility exists—"
"Heh," Chan lifts his lips slightly and nudges you, almost as if he is telling you that the two of you have lesser work to deal with.
"—but there is also a chance of an exceptional clever murderer behind all this. So please," he turns to look at both you and Chan with an extra intimidating glare, "Look at this case with an open mind."
"You've our word," you smile widely, keeping the photos back in the file.
"Thank you," the Captain looks comforted. "I cannot hear more from the Mayor, I swear to God. Now, you'll go into UN Village and investigate these deaths as soon as possible."
"And?"
"If there is a murderer, you must identify him as discreetly as possible and if these are just accidents, uhm," Jisung clears his throat, rubbing the back of his head, "We'll just put out a notice in talks of their safety, I guess."
Jisung stretches back in his chair, folding his arms and looking at the two of you proudly, "You guys are the best darn detectives we've got."
"Of course," Chan sneers. "Why else would you take our breaks away using some sex tape as some kind of blackmail? You're a nasty captain."
"He'll be forever salty about this, huh?" Jisung raises an eyebrow at you.
"Nah," you chuckle. "He's secretly overjoyed about being able to work during the holidays."
"As if!"
"We could just go now and investigate—"
"No, you cannot." Jisung sighs. "This is where I'm kind of helpless. The Deputy Mayor specifically mentioned how we are not allowed to poke around, cause chaos and make a scene."
"What? Why?" Chan slightly shifts in his chair, in agitation.
"It'll draw the media in like vultures."
"So?" You furrow your eyebrows. Why does this smell rotten?
"So, the two of you will go in under cover." Jisung smiles. "I doubt it would be an issue for the two of you."
"Undercover? Undercover as what?"
Twenty fours hours later, you are here.
A large group of suburbanites are gathered on a perfectly sculpted front lawn. They stand around the stainless steel barbeque rack and are talking. You gaze further, your back pressed against the big lorry that carries furniture to furnish the new house.
"I can't believe we're doing this," Chan sighs. He helps the man take out the sofas from the lorry. His biceps bulge and you smile, eyes lingering for a minute on the vein that is prominent over it.
"Please," you laugh, head thrown back. "When I said I wanted to get married, you were there in the list, yes," you tilt your head and snigger. "But you were definitely not my first candidate."
"Lies," Chan teases. "I was your only other candidate, work being the first."
"Don't make me throw this chair at you."
Chan laughs, taking the chair from your hand and walking back in to settle it down onto the floor. Your head shifts back to look at your new neighbours, two of them waving at you and making their way to you. Chan comes out of the house right then, watching the two walk towards you.
Chan bends down to the side to whisper to you, "Do we have to go speak to them? I—"
"Of course. We can't be rude to them."
Chan holds onto your arm, whining like a little child, "But why? I hate rich people."
"Because I'm your wife now," you scrunch your nose at the title. "Listen to me and go with the flow. Just remember that you're Bang Chan, leading specialist in maxillofacial surgeries, hoping to start over in this area of the city—"
"And you're my beautiful wife, my other half, Y/N," he lifts your hand after entangling them with his, your silver ring bright on display and he takes a step forward.
"Now let's go, honey!"
The other couple walks towards the two of you simultaneously, stopping midway upon reaching you. You tilt your head, shifting your gaze to a softer look as you look at the couple, before clutching onto Chan's hand a little tighter.
"Hi, I'm Y/N and this is my husband, Chan. We just moved right next door."
The tall man with a hair messy on top of his head smiles, although it seems very superficial. Yet again, Chan did mention how rich people could never smile sincerely. He tells you, stressing every alternate syllable, "It's so nice to have you here, Y/N, Chan. We are so glad you could shift right before our Annual Holiday Barbeque."
He stretches his arms out towards Chan. Your partner heaves a huge sigh in silently before holding his hand and giving it a firm shake. The other man continues, "I'm Park Rowoon, the president of the local homeowners' association and this beauty here is my wife, Jieun."
Jieun's face contorts into a huge, gleaming and completely insincere grin. She holds onto her husband's bicep, fingers digging into the flesh, "Well, isn't he a dear?" She laughs high pitched. "It's so nice to meet you." She rushes forward to hug you, her arms wrapping around your frame and giggling into your frame. You hug her back, albeit awkwardly, laughing slightly at the gesture.
On the other hand, Rowoon extends his arms out to take Chan's hand in for a shake. The hand holds his, and squeezes it hard enough to hurt as he raises an eyebrow at him. Chan jolts in surprise, trying to squeeze back as he grits his teeth.
You pull back from Jieun and notice the two males holding each other's hands so tightly that it has turned pale. Chan does not seem to back out and rather squeezes back further every single time Rowoon's grip on his tightens. That is, until the older male pulls his hand back and looks at Chan, after shaking his hand a little bit, flexing it.
"You okay, baby?" Jieun rushes to her husband's side, and wrapping her arms around his, she just out her lower lips and looks at him with a dazed and madly-in-love look, "Are you hurt?"
"Nah," he pulls at the dead skin of his lips. "Just the old carpal tunnel acting up. Age, right?" He laughs, locking a fixed gaze at Chan and you quickly rush to his side, locking your arms with his as you laugh.
"Definitely. Don't worry about it. You still look as young and charming as ever."
Rowoon laughs before asking you, "So you're shifting right next door, huh?"
"Yes!" You lift up your lips a lot more than when you usually smile. "Did you see our moving truck? It was quite immediate but I'm glad. This society is so good and just right enough to start a family together." Chan's eyes widen and he looks down at you, nostrils flaring in surprise as he chokes on air. You stand on your toes, kiss his cheek before settling down and smiling at the couple before you. "I desperately want to."
Family? With you? Fuck.
"Y-yes," Chan's breath hitches and he gets the word out. He'd be down to start a family with you but how could he even suggest a relationship when you just look at him like a friend? A friend who you can come to when you're needy and sexually frustrated.
"My husband's very observant. He saw your truck the other day itself!" Jieun exclaims proudly.
Chan's eyebrows shoot up as he stares at the man. He doesn't already like him and one more wrong step and he is ready to pin some crime down on him. Rowoon is flattered by his wife's comment.
"I do like to keep a close eye on the neighborhood. After all, vigilance is the first step in ensuring a beautiful and safe community. Talking about which, I couldbt help but notice that you have a bird feeder."
Rowoon stares hard at the wooden bird feeder behind the two of you. Chan and you turn to look at and he laughs. You look proudly at it. A heirloom – almost – of yours, Chan (and Jisung) agrees to let you bring it with you. (They agreed to it when you explained how your neighbors hated you and they would harm it the minute you left sight of it for a long time.) You look at Rowoon with eyes so bright as you begin to explain. Your partner, on the other hand, arms still locked with yours, looks at you with stars beneath his eyes and you are responsible for them. It's admiration. Sheer, peak admiration.
"It's an antique, you know. My grandfather carved it himself out of—"
"Yeah, great, that's lovely." Rowoon cuts you off and the smile disappears off your face, your eyes losing their shine. Chan clutches his fists in anger, head shooting back to face the stupid old man for making his wife mad — his partner sad. The old man continues, "The thing is wooden bird feeders are against the UN Village Homeowners' Charter."
"They are?" You look back at the wooden bird feeder. You bite on the lower lip to hide your disappointment, eyes squeezing shut to hold yourself alright.
"I'm afraid so." You turn your head back to look at him. Chan quickly unlinks his arms from yours and you look at him, worriedly. Was he going to start a fight? Please, God, no. You glance in worry till he interlocks his fingers with yours as he holds your hand tightly. The warmth seeps through you and your lips pucker unknowingly at how comforted you feel.
Rowoon continues explaining, "They tend to give off a country farmhouse vibes and aesthetic which is not exactly what we are going for."
"I'm sor—"
Chan clicks his tongue, preventing you from apologising. He pulls you towards him, a little bit closer than the two of you already were. Your partner glares at the man before huffing out loudly and saying, "You run a pretty tight community here, Rowoon, don't you think? Respect the rules or you're out." Rowoon stiffens upon hearing the words before Chan laughs, stretching his other arm out to pat his shoulder. "I'm kidding. Just kidding."
Jieun steps in right then to smoothen out the tension as she claps her hands together, laughing, "Aren't the two of you the cutest? Are you newly weds or?"
"Yes. I mean, it's been a year, but being married to her feels like falling in love all over again for every single day of my life." Chan locks his eyes with you and you gulp. The words hit deep, so deep that you know you shouldn't be fluttered, or flustered. This is Chan. He couldn't be serious.
"Ah, so cute," she squeals. Rowoon looks at his wife with a raised eyebrow before looking at the two of you again.
"Listen. I've to go check on the grill and grab something to eat. You should swing by later tonight and meet the rest of the members of the society. I'm sure they'll love you."
"Of course. We do want to finish a bit of the moving in and stuff today and maybe put up the Christmas decorations soon, but we'll be there. Guaranteed." Chan tugs at your hands to pull you back. You nodded and waved at Jieun.
"Bye!"
Chan quickly rushes you back into the house before finally letting out a huge sigh. He runs a hand through his hair before letting his back hit the door. You look at him and giggle lightly into your hand.
"Don't laugh," he glares. "I swear to God, if I have to spent more time talking to Rowoon—"
"You're doing so well, idiot," you laugh, throwing your head back. "We just need to dig in a little bit, talk a lot and confirm that these were accidents."
"Y/N, baby," You breathe slowly upon hearing the term. A sure endearment that Chan has always used but for to hear it roll out of his mouth in places this homely felt different, made you feel different. "If I have to spend more time with Rowoon, I will come up with another theory and it would probably be a suicidal one."
"Don't screw this up, yah!" You hit the back of his head. "The last thing I want is a suspension just because I was caught fucking you in the evidence room."
"Like you didn't enjoy it," Chan leans forward, nose brushing against yours almost. You can feel his breath fanning against your face and the temperature rising. Your hands are firm on his chest before you push him back, fanning yourself with your hand. You tie your hair up into a ponytail before pointing at the boxes by the side of the door.
"Get to work, husband. We don't have time to waste."
"The pepper next to the salt, Chan. Why would you put turmeric there?"
"You'd be one whiny arse motherfucker for a wife," he groans and angrily shuffles the bottles in their right order. "Why are we even arranging all this? Let's just wrap this up in like two days and go celebrate Christmas back at the station."
"I'm not going to take risks. It's Christmas. I celebrate every single Christmas," You mumble. "At least the bare minimum. And if this Christmas has me celebrating it with you, I will. I will give you the best Christmas ever."
"I don't celebrate Christmas, Y/N."
You place the cutlery in the shelves. You leave the kitchen after finishing every single arrangement of the same. Chan follows you into the main living room. You stop in your tracks when you hear Chan say the words and you turn, eyes shooting up.
"Why?"
"Mum left dad in winter. Didn't feel right to celebrate Christmas when she was at home. It's a bitter memory for her, you know?" You nod, eyes looking at him with understanding rather. He sits down, lifting his legs up and stretching it over the table. Your eyes widen and you narrow at his legs.
"Feet. Off. The. Table." You glare.
"Why?"
"Because it's disgusting." You groan. You sit down by his side once he puts his feet off the table, huffing at you. He turns to look at you and you respond finally.
"Do you, maybe, want to celebrate Christmas with me this year?"
Chan's a romanticist (though he wouldn't ever admit it). He believes in how destiny is meant to unite two people like one magnet for another, one jigsaw piece matching just another. He also believes that you are something special to him because his mind worries over you, his heart gravitates to you in a crowded room.
Felix told him that it's probably just sheer concern for his longest partner ever. That your heart tends to feel weird stuff for people that protect you, for people that take bullets for you.
But today, right now, when you tilt your head to the side, resting it on your arm as you wrinkle your eyes in mirth and ask him, his heart skips a beat. Maybe two. He is lost in his thoughts, emotions on an overload and he wonders if you would ever see him in a different light.
"Chan?"
He snaps out of it. He laughs, almost at himself, as he runs his hand through this hair. "Do I have an option? Han made sure our Christmas would be stuck here."
"I'm the best option you have, dude. That, or it was you and your can of beer and your football marathon."
"Maybe."
You still, your head lifting up to look at him. Chan looks at you like he has so much to say to you, so much stuff that conflicts within him but words he would never say out loud. You wish he could. Your head turns to the small Christmas tree inside the house — bare, empty and green. The one extra along with the big one outside every house in the UN Village.
"We could start by decorating that. Yeah."
You hop off the sofa and rush to take the decorative goods from the suitcase. All on command from Captain Han Jisung, courtesy of the very same man who bought so many of the decorations. Chan turns his body, arms folded on the head of the sofa as he watches you scramble in search of something.
You take the decorative items out from the suitcase, putting it by the side as you search for something. Chan walks towards you, squatting as he watches you look before he holds your wrist and halts your actions.
"What are you searching for? I could help you."
"It's this bluetooth speaker I thought I brought," you shake Chan's grip away before undoing the zip on the other side of the suitcase. "I really thought I brought it. Shit."
"Hey, hey," Chan sits on the floor as he watches you. "It's alright. You can put whatever you want to put on the speaker. It'll be loud enough for the two of us."
You turn to look at him, before falling back on your ass and sitting. You fold your arms around your knees close to your chest and you smile, "You don't mind me blasting Christmas Carols during tree decoration time, right?"
Chan laughs at your innocence. Something so soft, so pure about it, about how you loved Christmas so much. He wants to hold you close — oh so close — the need almost overcomes him but he holds back.
"I don't mind."
"Yay," you squeal, getting back on your feet and rushing to your phone on the table. "I have this collection of Christmas Carols that we primarily put every year–" Chan watches you scroll through your music library to find the collection and he knows you have when your whole face lights up like the goddamn star on this awfully green tree. "Tada, it starts with my favorite carol, Deck The Halls."
Chan's never understood the hype around carols but for you, he will try today. You increase the volume to the highest, and place the phone back on the table before rushing back to Chan and the suitcase. Your partner takes the fairy lights in his hand and lifting it up, he looks at you quizzically.
"How do you go about this?"
"There's no right or wrong way, Channie. Trust me. We are all swinging it and hoping that it turns out right," you reassure. You take the fairy lights from his hold and stand up. "I can show you what my family does." You walk to the tree, about a good amount of inches taller than you still.
The carol plays in the background like some beautiful serenade wrapping around the two of you. Chan stands a step behind you watching you carefully wrap the fairy lights right around the inside bark of the tree and plug it in to the extension box by the side. The white lights flickered bright and shine on your face that is close to the tree.
Chan stares. He can't pull away. You hold his breath, captivate his gaze and have him completely enthralled. Your eyes sparkle — hell, you sparkle more than those stupid fairy lights.
He is so charmed by you that he doesn't realise how you've been trying to catch his attention for a while.
"Chan?" And then you hit his arm, the whole police academy teaching style. "Focus, will you?"
"Fine," and he takes one of the christmas ornaments, hanging them up on one of the spikes. "Is this how it is?"
"You're doing so well, don't worry."
And with the carols in the background, the two of you slowly put the ornaments up, laughing occasionally at Chan wearing the ornaments by hanging them on his ears instead. Another set of fairy lights are draped perfectly over the tree. The stockings are hung by the side and everything is exactly as you remember Christmas decorations to be inside and you realise it's not much different from the Christmases you usually have.
The tree is there. The lights are there. The desserts will be coming. The memories are still made and your loved one is still here. Nothing is different.
"Help me hang the star up," you look at Chan. He tilts his head to the side and his eyes fix on the battery operated star in your hand.
"Did Jisung really give us all that?"
You nod, "Yeah. He told us to sell the story well. Apparently movies lie and that rich people are not all that dumb."
"You sure?" Chan sniggers. "That dude we met there seemed pretty dumb if he wouldn't even let you keep your bird feeder over some stupid aesthetics."
"Don't remind me," you groan. "Now, come here and hold me up." You stretch your arms slightly and Chan's trying his best not to giggle at how cute you looked in the minute.
His hand is warm against your sweater, heat seeping through as he lifts you up, grip strong on your waist. Your legs intuitively wrap around his torso to protect yourself and you stretch your arms out. You try placing the star above and Chan edges closer to the tree when he knows he's a bit far off. You finally place it successfully above and switch it on. It lights up pretty and your heart warms up at the joy of completing the tree decorations.
And then, Chan suddenly jolts you up in his hold. You fall forward, arms wrapping around his neck and face brough so close to his that you can see the sparkle underneath his eyes that glisten for you. You stiffen in his hold as he wraps his arms around you tighter and in the very next minute, Chan's lips have found yours.
It's soft and gentle as it moves against yours, taking your lower lip within seconds. In that kiss was the sweetness of passion and the reconfirmation of million memories spent together. It moves so gently against his plump ones that you know you're drowning in everything Bang Chan is and that it's creeping — he is creeping slowly into your veins and contaminating your being to a point where it would hurt to live without him.
Chan holds you tightly against him, holding your entire weight in his arms like you are his whole world. His hands squeeze your waist as if he is reminding himself that you are still here with him, sharing this holiday with him. And when Chan pulls back, you realise.
In his kiss, you are home.
"Why did you—" You barely manage to piece words together with the help of your clouded brain. "Uhm, why did you kiss me?"
Chan blushes. The apples of his cheeks heat up at the sudden question and it surprises him how he could still blush at you after all this while. He looks behind you, trying to stall away some time from answering until his eyes land on the creeping mistletoe with white buds around.
"Mistletoe!"
"What?"
"Behind you," Chan points, holding you up with one arm wrapped around your waist. "There!" You turn to look behind, one arm still around his neck while the other is by your side.
"Oh, it's a mistletoe." You blush and look down at how Chan holds you up. "You could put me down now, Chan."
"Oh yeah." And he slowly lowers you down onto the ground. His cheeks are still stained slightly before he rubs his fingers, fidgeting with it and finally exclaiming, "Ah look at the time. We've got to get ready for taht barbecue shit they are hosting." He turns you around and pushes you to the room the two of you are sharing. "Hurry!"
You laugh, head still dazed over the kiss. It goes back and repeats it over and over again till you feel the temperature in you shoot up and has you wanting emotionally so much more.
After all, this was the first time Chan has kissed you like that and it did not end with sex.
The smell hits your nose before anything else. The smell of fresh beef being roasted and the toxic smell of rich people partying. Although you cannot quite exactly explain how rich people smell if someone asked you. They just smell. . . rich.
Dammit. Now you'll associate this fine rich smell of first class beef with stupid rich people.
"At least it's good meat." You mumble.
"That's what she said," Chan laughs at his own joke. You open your mouth in disbelief, nudging him with your elbow. Across the lawn, by the pool side of Jieun's lawn, you see her and a couple of other ladies waving at you to come towards them.
"I'll have to go over there. Anyhow, get as much as information as you can, alright?" You turn to look at Chan before walking backwards. "I'll come over soon once it gets too nauseating for me, please."
"Sure," he waves at you and you turn around and walk as elegantly as possible to the posh ladies sitting there. Chan, on the other hand, decides to head to the group around Rowoon that almost look like a bunch of Mayor Arseholes to him.
You walk towards Jieun who is sitting a hot tub. The hot tub bubbles and you raise an eyebrow at the amount of wealth this family has amassed over the years. A table full of snacks rests under a nice canopy and a very intoxicated lady sways from the left to the right by the side of it.
"Sookyung-ah," Jieun waves at the inebriated female, "Meet the newest member of our little neighbourhood, Y/N."
Sookyung is loud. So loud that you wonder maybe Chan is right about rich people — that they drink, merry and party all day long. She waves her hands, eyes blinking a little too much as she welcomes you, "Nice to meet you! Have a drink!"
She shoves a big glass of brownish looking liquor that reeks of rum. You take a sip of it courteously. The liquid flows down your throat, the burning feeling distinct on your throat. Your eyes wrinkle in surprise, "That's strong, whoa."
"Of course, darling, it is," she smiles widely and it should have repulsed you. However, it is the only genuine smile you have found in this whole neighborhood so far. Sookyung continues, "How else are we supposed to get through the day?"
"Is this how it usually goes?" You laugh nervously. "Us girls sneak off to grab a drink while the boys beat the chests out at front?"
"Ooh," Sookyung gushes. "I think I'm going to like you a lot, darling."
Jieun takes a sip of her orange coloured cocktail as she circles her glass lightly, letting the liquid shake inside. You tilt your head backwards, staring up at the stars only to notice how it is a full moon tonight. A soft smile spreads across your lips as you think of the one person you associate with the moon; your partner.
Jieun leans forward after placing her drink back on the table. She nudges Sookyung and raises an eyebrow at you, "Sookyung-ah, did you see her husband?"
You blush at the term. This will take a while to get used to. "Was he the tall, broad shouldered guy in the suit?" She hums in approval and your eyebrows furrow downward in displeasure. "Talk about a prime cut of meat!"
"I know, right?" Jieun giggles. "I saw him and started to drool."
Your cheeks heat up ridiculously. You can feel your heart beating a lot quicker and it is a weird sense of pride that swells up within you over a man you can't even completely call yours now. You fidget with your fingers, black dress riding up your thigh as you shift in your seat nervously, "I guess Chan is a good looking man."
"Chan? Is that his name?" Sookyung laughs, "That's an understatement of the year. I would wish to strip him down, slather him up with butter and just eat him up." Your face couldn't help but morph into one of disgust at her words. At this point, you are borderline disturbed.
"That's, uhm, very vivid thoughts you have of my husband."
"Ah, dear," Sookyung leans forward and holds your hand, rubbing it in her grip. "We were joking. But you must tell us—"
Jieun breaks her and smiles so wide as she looks at Sookyung, grinning and then at you, "What is he like in the sheets?"
They laugh together and you look at the two of them. So this is what a rich bunch of ladies too. Gossip and talk unfiltered. You had only two options at this point, or maybe three — a) stay quiet and let them do the talking, b) tell them off for talking about Chan this inappropriately, c) talk with them and get more information under the guise of being one amongst them. You swear to the heavens that you would rather do option b, but for the sake of this crime, you decide to do what Captain Han Jisung would have told you to follow.
"He's a fucking tiger," and you laugh the fakest laugh you could ever pull out, albeit not because Chan wasn't good in between the sheets or anything (he was an almighty beast with his technique, yes) but because you never thought you'd live to see the day you'd use words like that, in any situation at all.
"Called it!"
"Tell us everything!"
You take a sip of your drink and cross your legs as you sit up straight, almost feigning arrogance, "I'm not one to kiss and tell but let's just say that Chan makes me very happy about," you grin and pause, trying to catch the ladies' attention on every single word of yours, "Twice a day or so."
"Twice a day?" Sookyung gasps.
"If he's just very much in the mood, I know I'm not going to walk for days together. Not that that is an issue. Chan is the sweetest and takes care of me," you flutter your eyelashes.
Jieun taps at her chest, huffing, "Be still my beating heart. Be still."
Sookyung sighs, stretching back on the reclining chair, "These days, Ilsung and I get it on like once a month or so and that's like for a minute. How disappointing."
"They are newly married, Sookyung," Jieun stilts her head in acknowledgement. "It's been a year of their marriage or so." She takes a bite of the cookie from the plate by the side and you smile as she looks at you.
"It seems like you're all pretty open in this neighborhood," you point out and twirl a strand of your hair that lets loose before your eyes.
"Oh we share everything," Jieun says and Sookyung scoffs, before picking up a cookie and her strong drink.
"Some more than others." She scowls so visibly that Jieun has to furrow her eyebrows at her and signal something with her gaze before Sookyung looks away to the right.
The backdoor of the house behind opens and you turn to look at a lanky woman walking in with a tray of cookies. It is the same one that you have on the table already and you look at her. The glow on her face is long gone, her eyes losing the sparkle and you wonder if she is going through something.
Sookyung frowns and mumbles under her breath, albeit a bit too loudly, "Great. This party suddenly took a sip into Depressionville now."
You lean back into Jieun and mumble, "Who's that?"
Jieun leans into you and is about to whisper when Sookyung runs her mouth free, "That's Somin. An absolute downer."
You bite your lip out of anxiety, surprised by how Sookyung really does run her mouth a bit too much — a lot enough to cancel her off your list of suspects almost. Jieun hisses at the other woman before telling you, "Her husband was Kim Jihoon and he died yesterday so," she clears her throat, "She's quite rattled, to say the least."
"Then shouldn't she be mourning at her husband's house or funeral home for a few days? The fact that she's already here seems so crass." Sookyung shakes her head, disappointed. You gulp and watch the woman, Somin, come closer and Sookyung, folding her arms tighter.
The minute Somin is in your periphery though, both Jieun and Sookyung smile so brightly and that's when you realise that nothing you see and nothing you hear could be trusted here. It's the world of the rich and everyone wants to come out on top.
"It was so nice of you to come out," Sookyung waves and calls her closer. Jieun nods and you see how she walks slowly towards them, a sad smile on her face and her tray held strongly.
Somin speaks softly, almost as if she should not, "I probably should have stayed inside." She holds out her tray as she stretches her arms outwards. On the tray are many round cookies with cracked lines on their surfaces, a bit too deep than normal. They look sad. Just as their maker does.
You wait for the other two women to do something and when they take a piece of cookie, you follow suit and take one. The distinct taste of cinnamon fills your mouth and you hum in approval even if the cookie wasn't the best out there, "Ah, these snickerdoodles taste good!"
"Thanks, but you don't have to flatter me," she looks at you with a face close to no expressions whatsoever, "Whoever you are."
"Somin, this is Y/N. She's new to our neighborhood," Jieun says and Sookyung adds, "And she clearly knows her cookies."
"Thanks," you hesitate. "I do bake from time to time." And taking another piece of the cookie, you tell them excitedly, "Did you know that Snickerdoodle is derived from the term Schneckennudein, which literally means snail noodle?"
The three other ladies stare at you, blinking at what you just said in utter disarray and you sigh.
"I meant," You take a bite of the cookie, "Great cookie!"
"Yeah, great cookies, but," Jieun starts and Somin looks at her, pressing her lips together.
"But?"
"I said that I would be the one to make the snickerdoodles, but it's alright. We can have twice as many and can give some to our husbands partying over there. No worries."
"Oh, okay, I'll have to go," and she scurries away quickly. She barely shuts the door as she rushes out of the place almost immediately, her hair flailing behind her. You watch the woman, analysing how no one in the party seemed bothered by it.
Jieun sighs, "She looks bad, doesn't she?"
"If you ask me," Sookyung speaks loudly once again and you already know she's going to run her mouth, "She's better off with Jihoon dead. You should have heard the way the two of them used to fight."
"Were Somin and Jihoon having marital troubles?" You ask.
"Definitely," Sookyung leans forward, "If by marital trouble you mean continuous screaming matches blasting across the entire neighbourhood, why then yes!"
"You're such a gossip, Soo! It was not that bad."
"Says you!" She stands up and walks towards the bar counter, smiling and turning back to look at both you and Jieun. "More rum?"
"Yes, please!"
"Hey—"
It's the greetings and then a hand that trails far too low on your back. It grazes the curve of your ass and you quickly jolt forward turning only to find a man in his mid thirties in a suit, standing eerily close to you.
You narrow at him before asking, "I was searching for my husband. Pretty tall, broad shouldered, dark brown hair, slightly curly. Have you seen him?"
"You're Chan's wife? Didn't know he had such a beautiful woman for a wife," the man edges forward and you take a step back, eyebrows furrowed at him and your hand trailing down to keep you ready to grip your gun. Until you remember that you're undercover and hitting this man with a gun would seem suspicious. Your best option was to deck him. The man takes another step forward and you take one backwards till your back hits the buffet table, "I'm Ilsung. Do you maybe want to go somewhere..."
"You have a wife and I have a husband," you spit out. You are mortified. So this is what Sookyung mentioned and the fact her very own husband is involved in illicit affairs — does everyone here have a mistress or is involved in adultery? Is that the rich people norm?
"So? Everyone here has an affair with someone's wife. Do you want to be mine? I can take care of you."
"I can very well take care of my wife, Ilsung. I don't think I'll need your help."
You hear the one voice you needed to hear in this very moment. You look over the older man's shoulder to find Chan, his hands shoved into the pockets of his formal pants. His top buttons are undone and the vest and suit fits him so well that you are glad you picked this one out for him. You shove the man away and walk to Chan, heels digging into the lawn as you strut confidently.
"I need the madam to say that," Illsung shoots and Chan's at his patience's end. He makes fists of his hands on either side of his and you hold onto his arms to calm him down only to look at the other man and narrowing your eyes, you scoff.
"I don't think I need to go have sex with someone like you when I get it well from him. That, and I guess, him being my husband should take more priority but not in this neighborhood where everyone breathes and lives on sex. So, no, thank you. I feel sad for Sookyung. She deserves someone better than a trash for a husband."
"Why, you bitch!" And he rushes forward with a clenched fist to hit you. Chan stops his blow, however, chuckling to himself.
"That's weak. Now, why don't you go take care of your wife while I treat mine like a princess? Yeah?"
And Chan walks away with his arms tight on your waist as he holds you close. Ilsung yells behind the two of you, his wife yelling at him to keep quiet. Chan, on the other hand, doesn't speak a word further, just walking you all the way to the house the two of you share, keeping you so close to him and glaring at the others to keep them away.
There are sighs and grunts, furrowed eyebrows and clenched fists as Chan argues with himself in his head all the way to the room the two of you share. He stands by the table, still lost in his thoughts and you almost pick up the book you're reading — one by Natsume Suseki — only to deck him with it, although you decide not to because he already seems ready to snap his control.
"Chan—"
Maybe your voice was the only trigger he needed to snap, to break away from his thoughts and to give them words out loud.
"You just stood there? Like some dumb doll when he touched you?" Chan glares at you and you frown, folding your arms over your chest and yelling back, "Excuse me, but I'm undercover as some doting wife to some stupid man."
"Did that matter then? Oh my god," he groans, throwing his head back. "I'm so mad and I know you're right. You are right but how dare he touch my wife when I was around. The fucking audacity—"
You hold the edges of the table with the base of your palm, pressing against it as you jump up and sit up on it to face him properly. You cup his face and making sure his eyes are fixed on yours, you smile softly.
"Don't smile right when I'm shit mad at everything, Y/N."
"Should I frown then?" You laugh out and push yourself back slightly to allow Chan to come closer and stand in between your thighs. "Let's think of this as some, uhm," you ponder, still holding Chan's face close to you, "Yes! Let's think of this as an occupational hazard."
"Occupational hazard," he scoffs. "Bullshit. He did that because he thinks women are weak. He's one of those arrogant pompous rich men that think that he can have his way with some good sacks of cash and power and that all women are weak and with that power comes his ability to subjugate them all to the age old tradition of treating them as sex dolls, an object for pleasure."
Chan's red and out of breath when he finally rants it all out and you bite your lower lip from laughing, dropping your hands from his face. Chan's cute. Oh god, he's so fucking cute and you know you shouldn't overstep boundaries but dear lord, if Bang Christopher Chan keeps this up, you will actually get down on your one knee, pop the ring and propose to him.
"Are you done?"
"No," he glares at you and leans forward, "Going to get back to work after this case and find some hell of a corruption case on him to put him behind the bars."
Your eyes wrinkle into thin crescents as you smile wide. You raise your eyebrows and suggest, "I've a better idea. Why don't you rather fuck me with all hat pent up frustration? It's a win win deal, if you think about it hard enough."
Chan leans forward, lips curving up into a confident grin, "Oh, I will. I intend to do both. Fuck this anger out on you and put him behind bars."
Chan's hands are big in comparison to your face. He cups your face, angles it and kisses you. His lips fit right into yours almost as if they were meant to be there for a lifetime to come. He kisses you and it's just as magical as always, laced with a touch of ardent need and passion. You needed him, you needed his warmth, his protection and everything he has to offer. His arms snake around your neck to grasp it and pull you in, deeper into him as he moves his lips against yours, softly at first till it turns into something so passionate that it would have your knees buckle, had you been standing. Chan is pressed against you, his white shirt, a size small as he likes it, clinging onto his body tightly (rid of the vest and suit in a moment of anger as soon as he walks into the house you share) and perfectly enough for you to hold his muscles.
You promised to yourself that you wouldn't fall in love, not after the shitshow of a marriage you saw in your parents. You promised that you'd keep your heart to self, that every individual in this world was brought forth as a single entity, so why in heavens did we go searching for others?
Chan makes you understand.
You understand now that promises are meant to be broken and as you gaze at Chan under his dim lights, his face so temptingly close to you, you are more than ready to break the promise you've made with yourself.
It has been written in the gazes already and as you lean forward, your fingertips tracing his jawline, Chan knows it because he meets you halfway, his hands creeping behind your back by your waist and tugging you closer, your bodies touching and your lips on his, soft and testing waters initially. He pulls you closer, his lips moving against yours, angling your face to delve deeper into you.
He has his lips against yours, nearly knocking you off all the wind in your lungs. You sigh into the kiss, find your hands in his hair, tugging at the roots and moving against his body, your legs stretching by either side of his body. His hand sprawls over your neck, his thumb caressing against your jugular before pressing into the neck, rubbing slow circles. He kisses the top of your lips, your hands tugging at his shirt.
In a swift motion, positions have changed and you're sitting on him whilst he props himself up on the table. He lifts you up slightly, pulling back and places you on top of his lap. Your rear falling into the depression between his thighs, rubbing against his groin slowly. He looks at you through hooded eyes, pushing your hair past and opens his mouth to speak before you voice out first.
He looks at you from below, your hair falling on his shoulder as you look at him, his head thrown behind as it rests on the sofa's ridge. And your lips find his again, tugging at his soft lip to let you through, to open up to you completely.
You moan into the kiss, your back arches and Chan's hand is still firm on it. He kisses your lower lip and your tongue brushes his lips in the impact, groaning at how he won't let you through a second ago and then, he lets you in. It's intimacy on a level you were slowly being prepared for. It's everything you remind yourself that you wouldn't break down into. Chan makes you feel special, with every praise, with every word he swears out to protect you. Chan reminds you of a feeling you had long forgotten.
Chan's lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the curved edges of your neck, sucking and kissing every exposed skin. Your head is thrown back at the sensation, your hips gyrating over his growing length.
His hand moves from your shoulders to your arse to your back after he seeks your permission as he pulls you closer and forwards, until your chests are pressed against one another. His mouth is everywhere and good lord, you feel infinite and powerful.
His lips hover on yours. He smirks, the curve of his lips tugging upwards slightly and you think it's cute. You think Chan also makes you feel divine as he whispers into your skin like personalized love notes or small token of appreciation, "Fuck, you're hot. The most beautiful being I've ever seen," and that is all that is needed as you gyrate over your hips a little quicker. He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew; all over again.
And you let him, just like you've already given him permission in your head to ravish you tonight, to take you to hell and back.
Chan cups your face with both his hand, holding you and watching your face shine in the dim gold setting of his room. Your cheeks glistened and your eyes sparkled but his eyes could not stray away from your lips — coral, swollen and so demanding. He pulls your face down, kissing your nose tip and then your philtrum before pressing his lips flat against yours.
His kiss is drawn out in a way that makes you want more, like a divine aphrodisiac. It makes you want to pull him in and suck the living hell out of him and yet it's lovely. It's precious and laid out well planned. His tongue licking your lower lips before entwining with your tongue as he pulls you closer into him, your hips lowering deeper into his covered length, panties sticking to the core from the sensations your body is responding to.
His fingers trail up your black dress, thumb grazing the skin slowly, bringing about goosebumps to the surface before they slowly move enough to rip your dress apart and expose you to him, in all semi-nude. You moan, before kissing him as you hold onto Chan tightly.
He makes your insides twitch and your heart lunge and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own. Your fingers get lost in his thick locks as you tug on them, forcing him to pull you down a lot forward and gladly welcome the movement of your tongue.
His lips are as soft as feathers and they feel like what you think heaven feels like. The warmth you experience is so much more than the tingle of first kisses, those innocent butterflies have nothing on the wanting void of a pit in your nether regions and the slick in between your thighs.
His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and pull you upwards, only to tightly clasp around the curve of your bare bottom cheeks, caressing it over. You sigh contently. His hand trails upwards, touching, feeling you all over and you pull back, breathing rapidly as you look at Chan. The next second you are unbuttoning his first two buttons and prompting him to remove his shirt too. Your legs slide slightly dangling off his sofa before he pulls you towards him, his naked chest warm enough against yours as he pulls you back in to devour you.
"God, you're heavenly," Kiss. "So fucking heavenly." Kiss. "You're a fucking good girl." Kiss. "So good for me." Chan sucks a huge hickey into your neck — bright, dark and purple but it's how he worships and praises you that makes you want him more, your clothed core grinding on his enlarged bulge that is covered. The friction from the cotton of your panties and the cotton of his jeans slowly stimulates your core and you can't help yourself when your body is moving on its own accord on top of Chan, your hand moving your from falling back.
“Chan,” you groan against his lips after he pulls away from you for a minute. His lips are red and swollen, slick and shining with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you all over again and you fear that you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing.
"Chan!"
His fingers move downward, grazing your skin by your stomach slowly, his eyes trained on yours as he watches you slowly break down. His fingers tease over your clothed mound. You bite your lip from groaning too loud but Chan's sudden tapping at your covered clit makes you yelp.
"Good girl. That's right. I want to hear your pretty moans," he kisses down on your neck, trailing and plastering wet kisses down your clavicle before sucking at the exposed skin of your breasts. "Moan loud for me, baby." He sucks at the skin by the crook of your neck, under your clavicles, above your breast and at the curves, leaving purple marks almost instantly thanks to your sensitive skin.
You can hear your heart beat quicker, racing against your chest and your thoughts drive you desperate. Pulling his face from your breasts, you kiss him, making the kiss deeper, licking his lip and grazing it with your teeth. You grind down on him trying to edge yourself desperately. You move forward to own every gulp and moan he releases and squirms in pleasure.
"I want you so much," you choke out. Chan's hand lets loose from your throat slightly and he looks at you with admiration, before gripping at the jugular, and caressing it lovingly, pressing wet kisses against it. You sound desperate, almost like you would lose your sanity if Chan doesn't make you his, this minute. "Please. Chan, please."
His hands trail downwards, thumb rubbing the skin on its way before he slips them under your panties, swiping his finger across your slit, feeling how wet you are. He groans out loud, mumbling, "What a doll. All wet and ready for me to devour. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Baby, wouldn't you?" He presses against your jugular with his other hand, tilting your head and gently choking you. Your eyes rim with tears in joy and you nod, "Yes, please."
His mouth moves over the skin at your breast, kissing it furiously. His tongue lapping at your nipple over your bra, slowly circling over the clothed material as he rubs his finger up and down your slit, occasionally rubbing against your clitoris. You press down and grind on him further, begging for more. Chan removes his hand from your neck and moves it up from your waist to your back and it lingers around the hook of your bra before snapping it open with a flick of his fingers. The bra slides off your shoulder and you throw it away, unbothered by where it lands.
Chan's mouth falls on your breasts, circling big with his tongue before slowly decreasing the radius of his turns and narrowing down on your nipples, sucking at them alternatively. You are moaning, holding at his shoulder and dragging your hips over his bulge in a slow, excruciating pace he has set with the drag of his fingers.
Your throat is dry from all this excessive want and you wet your lips, breathing coming out in hot puffs of air, rapid and shallow. The passion and want blinds you and Chan taps on your clitoris constantly with his thumb, using the other fingers to slowly tease your entrance over the panties but going back to sliding down your opening. You groan frustrated and grind down on his bulge trying to chase the feeling that is growing within you.
Chan's lips are all over you as you bite into his shoulder occasionally. It hovers over your neck and then your breasts, giving it all the attention as he plays with your nipples as he rubs you at a pace that quickens slowly. Your mind is boggled and you can't get your thoughts clearly.
"Such pretty breasts," he groans into it, his tongue flicking at it from your underside. "Such perky breasts. So beautiful and all mine."
Soon enough with his praises and the way he worships your being, the promise of an orgasm begins to manifest and build within you as a strong tightness within your lower regions, creeping into your abdomen, ever growing with every passing second. Chan's steady rhythm is strong enough to carry it over the edge with the friction you get from all the material and his bulge and as your climax looms closely, your hips rock and gyrate slightly against him. He pinches and flicks your nipples as he helps you ride out the orgasm, your eyes tired and hooded. You kiss him softly on his lips.
"Will you remove your lingerie for me, pretty girl?"
The order shouldn't have turned you on this much but it does as you hop off his lap, your feet unsteady on the ground as you balance yourself after your first orgasm. Your fingers are on the edge of your panties and you're pulling it down completely in the next second. Chan watches you steadily, his eyes trailing on your figure and you feel attended to.
"Jesus Christ," he stands up, the bulge moving slightly and your mouth dries up as it opens, wanting so much more. He holds you by your waist, petting your hair, mumbling, "I love when you put your hair down. You look like a goddess. A goddess ready to let go of your divinity all for me."
He unbuckles his belt as you slowly touch yourself, your hand moving down your body. He watches you, your thumb and forefinger playing with your nipples, tugging and pinching them till they harden under your grip. He removes his formal pants and his boxers, pulling it down and away at your request. Chan's length and girth has your eyes widening, as always, your tongue licking over your lips and you gape.
It's painfully hard and the tip is red, leaking with precum down his cock. Chan holds you by your waist and lifts you up, your knees wrapping around him and your soaked core on top of his hardened girth, occasionally dragging past it. He kisses your breasts, licking over the nipple and the underside of the breast, grazing his teeth over it as he walks you to what you had thought would be the bed. However, he stops midway, looking at you for a second before your back hits the cold walls of the room in this house as he holds you securely. You see the bed by the side and you smile. You drop your legs and stand on your toes as you kiss him, your tongue running over his buccal cavity.
Chan's hand trails down, circling by your waist before his palm hovers over your mound. His thumb brushes past your clit teasingly and your hand wraps around his neck, kissing him and biting at his lower lip till you feel the metallic copper taste of blood filling your senses.
You moan as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing you fold. He rubs circles into your folds, slowly dragging them out into waves and your hand flies upwards and forward to hold on to him for a grip.
"Chan," you rasp out, and he hums, removing your hand so that he can kneel down, kissing your thigh and biting it slightly as his thumb rubs against your clit and the other swipe against the folds. Your hands grip on his roots, tugging at it mercilessly.
"Baby, do something," you cry. "Please, I need you." Your other hand tugs at his hair, trying to bring him closer in a desperate manner. "I'll be a good girl. Please, do something."
"Should I?" he teases, rubbing small circles around your clit in an excruciatingly slow manner and you think — know — that Chan is going to drive you to insanity and how he'd pull one off his book and blame it on his instincts.
"Please, please, please—"
The intrusion is sudden and you are overwhelmed. You gasp, the air raspy against your throat before falling. Your hand pulls at his hair harshly as he sucks on your clitoris, his breathing fanning over you. Your fingers drag down and dig into his skin, unbothered by the possibility of cutting through it.
He presses his thumb on your clit after removing his mouth, tapping it slowly, simultaneously and you think you're going delusional. "Chan, oh my fucking heavens."
He kisses your mound repeatedly, telling you, "Look at this sex. Wet and dripping. I'll give you what you want, baby. I'll give you what you want for being a good girl for me."
Chan adds another two fingers instantly and you feel overwhelmingly full, crying out at being widened so pleasurably. The walls stretching out and you catch him mumbling, "So fucking tight and all for me. Look at this brat being a good girl for me."
He curls them up into you and your back arches slightly at the tingles. You feel Chan slipping his fingers easily into you and the slick of your arousal dripping down your thighs, making a mess. He rubs your walls, his attention also on your enlarged button and your hips gyrate with him, thrusting and chasing after his fingers desperately. He finds your spot easily after being this around and pushes at it constantly. Your head hits against the wall hard and he looks upwards at you for a split second, worried, only resuming after you give him a signal that you are alright.
You feel the euphoric rush coming, creeping through from within and trying to embrace you as a whole and when it's very close to burst, Chan pulls his fingers away, licking them clean with a knowing smirk plastered on his face, for a second before thrusting them back in.
Chan pumps his fingers in and out of you as his thumb rubs furious circles into your clit. He bites at your thigh, kissing them soon after, leaving traces of bruises near to your vulva. Hot, purple and sticky. He sucks on the skin deliriously, licking the skin to soften before grazing his teeth to oversensitize you. You feel the build up and you squirm against Chan, your eyes watering.
"Chan, baby," it's a sob that leaves you. "Please." You were so devastatingly close after your last orgasm, the balls of heels leaving the surface as you try to pull back but Chan pulls you down as he sucks on your clitoris and pumps his fingers in you in a ridiculously breaking pace and when you are so close to breaking apart, Chan drags his fingers away, licking and sucking at them as you look down at him.
"What the fuck?" You swear, frustrated, tears spilling from your eyes.
"Good girls don't swear."
"I'll blow you off well," you try striking a deal with him. He looks up at you amused, strands of hair sticking to your face from the sweat and he still thinks you're the most beautiful woman he has laid his eyes. "I'll give you one hell of a blowjob. Just please." Your voice breaks as you look at Chan, who looks so delectable at the minute with your juices staining the side of his mouth and his lips shining in the light. "You won't regret—"
His mouth is back on your core and you groan, "Ungh!" He mumbles, his warm breath tingling your core as he speaks against it, "Good girls don't strike a deal either, darling."
"But your good girl does," you tease and Chan's mouth is back on your sex, licking and teasing it. He grabs you by the calves, his blunt nails digging into the vast skin.
Without another word, Chan dives right into it, tongue darting out to lick a long, thick stripe from your center to your clit, causing you to shiver. Your left hand finds its way back to his hair after grabbing at his shoulder intermittently. Chan simpers to himself, overwhelmed by how well your body reacts to him and just him, your legs shivering and buckling, about to fall if it weren't for Chan's hands holding you up and pressing you against the wall.
You feel the thickness of his tongue lapping up your seeping wetness, which in turn causes a rush of arousal to leak and drip down your ass. "You're making a mess, baby," he chuckles, the laughter hitting your clit and sending a shiver down your spine. Your fingers instinctively tighten around his hair and you pull him closer to your cunt, his nose nuzzling against your mound. He groans, hands gripping your thighs tightly, locking your legs in place.
Burying himself further, his tongue dips deep inside you, nose nuzzling and rubbing against your clit with every thrust. His eyes are piercing and fixated on the rise and fall of your chest as he looks up at you once in a while, seeing you tug at your lips, eyes closed and hand roaming around for support. He loves seeing you fucked out for him.
"Argh, it's fucking divine," Chan mumbles against your slit and the vibrations have your core clutching onto nothing. "This good cunt all wet and slickened for me, ready for me." You mewl, unable to stop yourself from wriggling within his hold, the grip on his hair tightening.
Your walls grasps around his tongue, pulling him further into you as he laps up every single drop of your arousal, passionate as if it were an aphrodisiac. One of his hands travels upwards to latch itself on your breast, rubbing the underside of your breast, fondling and gripping it hard.
“Chan,” you moaned softly, your voice trembling over the sensations that ride into you, toes curling. He responds to your calling, withdrawing from you slowly, by planting soft and gentle kisses to your inner thighs.
"You're doing great, love."
He sucks on your clit furiously and that was everything for you. You feel the same high building up at a pace quicker than you thought was possible. You feel it tightening, your core clutching onto his muscular organ as it tries indulging itself deeper, chasing after something it craves. His nose rubs against your neglected clit. He licks a stripe against it before sucking at it, teeth grazing at it sending tingle down your spine that has you hitting the bumpers with the heel of your feet. You are already sensitive from the last orgasm and all the teasing you had and with all this vigor and undivided attention Chan gives you, you feel it coming as he treats you like you're his only girl.
Your back arches more steeply, your mound hitting him in its influence, head hitting the wall lightly this time and your moans are louder, raspier and quicker. You are screaming out Chan's name as you see the stars under your eyelids.
He still licks slow stripes, taking in and devouring the rush of juice that squirts out of you. He lets you ride out the high and he lets you leave him breathless as his grip on your thighs do not ease away. Chan does not stop, even when you're a quaking, quivering mess, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes and it's almost bordering overstimulation. You can't think and you can't form proper sentences. He leaves you gasping for air, with something stuck in your throat preventing the passage of air and it's difficult to breathe in this rush and he makes it harder.
He looks at you teasingly and he lifts his hand as you bend forward to his kneeling self. He clutches on your neck, his fingers pressing against the side softly as he continues licking up your orgasm and blocking your air passage. You feel the stimulation rushing and concentrating and it's all too much for you. Tears stain your face and you're crying, "It's too much, Chan. Too much."
And he stops as soon as you say that. He presses soft kisses against your clitoris and he holds your hips tightly as he stands up. You've lost any energy in your legs you have and if it weren't for Chan, you'd crash.
He holds you by the hips and carries you, dropping you gently against the bed, your hair spreading and you kiss his shoulder. He caresses your face and tells you — it's a whisper almost — "I think I want to get to know you more. I think I—"
You bring his face lower to kiss him, preventing any other word to spill from his mouth that your head tells you to cancel. You are not sure yet. You hold his face down, devouring him as a whole, feeling his length slide your core draggingly and you groan into him.
You don't shy away from prying your hand down, teasing his cock as you rub your hand over the enlarged shaft slowly, teasing his enlarged red head, rubbing your arousal and the afters of your orgasm all over him, slowly stimulating him as you drag your hand down his length and back up again, letting go of his shaft only to cup his balls, trailing your fingertips around it. You let go and look at Chan.
"Lay back, please," you request and he pecks your nose as he pouts at you. God, he really really wants to call you his. Forever.
Chan lies back on the bed, his head resting between his pillows and yet he pulls his body up, supporting his weight on his arm. You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You gulp and swallow the saliva as you look at Chan, whose gaze gives you comfort and confidence. The muscles in your arm stiffens as you grip his shoulder for stability and Chan's hand falls on your hips naturally, helping you steady yourself.
Your hands rest on his chest, firm and broad and you gaze at Chan's cock for a while, it twitching with every unadulterated thought of his as he watches you on top of him, bare, exposed and unrestrained all for him. Your mouth is parched and your tongue pokes out through the seams of your lips, running across the expanse of your lower lip and wetting it.
"Fuck," he swears as his eyes move with your tongue, his chest rising and falling under your hold.
You reach forward to take him in your hand — the tip of his head looks so inviting that you couldn't stop yourself. Chan's hands roam up your arms, his thumb caressing the underside of your breasts before they play with them, his thumb and forefinger rubbing your nipple, watching it turn solid in his hold. He grips at your breast, fondling it and massaging it, stimulating you and bringing about a rush of confidence in you.
“You’re fucking large, fuck, fuck,” You yelp, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. You widen your mouth, stretching your facial muscles and Chan laughs.
When you look at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. At this moment, with you hovering over him, he can't seem to contain how excited he is, his length twitching in your hold. You begin moving your hands up and down his length at the same slow pace he had put through.
You lean forward, Chan's grip on your breasts tightening as he squeezes it. Your whines turn to louder moans of ecstasy. His one hand grabs your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail until he drops it and touches your face, "Ah, so beautiful. You're so perfect."
Chan watches you and is all too eager, his hand on your face trailing down to your shoulder, gripping on it as he continues caressing one of your breasts. The flat of your wet tongue sticks out to lick around the rim of his hot head. He fights back a groan, choking and sputtering, grip on your shoulder tightening as his blunt nails dig into your skin. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, hollowing it, which leads profanities spilling from his pretty mouth, even though it's a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath and you sigh at the thought your mouth wrapped around his pretty cock.
Chan inhales a sharp breath, swearing and uttering, "Your pretty mouth could take me so well, baby. So good." You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. Your tongue licks around the base, pulling up a fat stripe over the throbbing, prominent vein.
“Fuck, fuck,” Chan mumbles, shifting on the sheets, his hand gripping on one of the pillows. “Open wider, please, baby. You're doing so good. You're taking me so well."
You do as he has asked of you. Your jaw is already sore and the joints ache from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the bed in the slightest without your awareness; his hand trailing back to your hair and the other still on your breast making you feel good. His grip on your hair is strong as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth, your lips wet around his length.
You try your best for it to be pleasurable for him as your fingers tighten around his length before you start to twist your wrists — with a click of your gliding joint — and continue sucking. Chan is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.
Chan's eyes widens, the reaction from you exciting him as you feel him twitching in your mouth. He gasps, breath uneasy as his hand leaves your hair and trails behind towards your arse that sticks out as you try deepthroating Chan. He rubs your slit slowly and the unexpected contact pushes you forward, taking in Chan a lot more than you had planned, leaving him groaning into your shoulder.
He pulls out barely before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused on making you feel calm too. Chan moves back and watches you taking him so well and he knows it's a sight to behold — your pretty lips wrapping around his length, taking him so well as if your mouth was made for him, crafted to perfection. His fingers rub small circles into your vulva, tapping against the clit accidentally once or twice.
Another gag rumbles out of you as you fight the reflex. The vibrations against his member is felt and he grips on your arse, pulling you into him, your nose rubbing against his pubis. Your finger trails the underside of his shaft before rolling his balls between your fingers. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision as you oppose your gag reflex, taking him as deep as you can.
The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of his bedroom, followed by the deep moans and sighs spilling through Chan's lips as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway, your throat constricting and eliciting a groan from him. He also diverts your attention to rubbing you, now and again slapping your cheeks, eliciting moans from you against his girth.
You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you dig into the flesh of his thighs. Your mouth is stretched as wide as you can physically make it and tears roll down your cheek continuously, while you willingly take him completely in your mouth. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, enthralled to see the Adam’s apple in Chan's throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure.
Chan pulls your head back; his cock comes out from your mouth with a light pop followed by you gasping for air. Your eyes droop, your cheeks hollow and your jaws ache but everything counts to how hot you felt, to how hot the tension between you still is. His hand trails back to your hair, gripping on it and jerking your hair back so you’re forced to look at him.
"This is a fucking sight to behold. Look at you, darling," he groans.
Chan's thumb grazes your skin and he latches his lips onto yours in a sloppy, messy and wet manner and nothing else seems to matter other than your need for each other. You lean forward, tugging at his pinna as you bite down on it lightly, before mumbling, "I'm on top today."
Chan doesn't care because all he can focus on is how you said today, like this isn't just a one time thing. He gazes at you with such affection that has your heart racing telling you to let go of that stupid cages you keep around your concepts.
As your folds, dripping down with thick, sticky arousal coating Chan's cock with that and your saliva, brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively allow yourself to lower further, taking the rest of him in you swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick and feeling him fully wrapped around your clutching walls has you throwing your head back, squeezing your eyes at how his length stretches you out, your walls wrapping around him tightly. He holds your waist, helping you down on his length.
You rock your hips into him, already finding yourself tightening and clenching around his thick cock. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full and you salivate, licking your lips. Your lips parts and you find your hips moving on their own accord. Chan's right hand rises upwards, massaging your breast, flicking your nipple and sending a rush down your spine, arching your back. His cock hits you at an angle and a soft moan leaves your lips.
Chan takes your hips in his hands, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. “Chan,” you whine, your lower lip puckers forwards and Chan lifts himself up to kiss you.
As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, hard, causing you to scream. “Fuck, Chan, oh my god, ah!”
He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into his pillows and groaning. The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock, gyrating around it and tightening your walls. The sight before you makes you want to see him fucked out further. You want him to crumble under you because of you, leave him trembling under your hold.
He groans, "Your cunt is so pretty. Look at it, baby. Look." He gapes down and you gasp, moaning quicker.
You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax for the third time that night, all because of this man. Chan's finger moves down and slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge.
“Are you going to come, baby?” He asks, breathlessly, his voice airy and light, almost floating away. He pulls his head forward to kiss your collarbones, sucking harsh bruises against your skin, continuing further down the existing purple bruises.
“Y-Yes, please, please,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, please, please, you feel so good, Chan.” You lean forward and the motion causes him to whine. You quickly catch it as your lips fall on his. His lips enclose yours, tugging and pulling at it and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you move on his cock, lazily.
Words, unfiltered and raw, spill out from your mouth after your lips leave his as you feel the high that is creeping up slowly within you. “Chan, fuck. Oh fuck. I'm going to come soon. Oh my god." Your voice reaches a pitch higher.
“Then, come.”
Chan moans against your neck as he feels you, his finger rubbing your clit, “Baby, come all over my cock. You deserve that for being the good girl you are.”
Chan's other hand that is not occupied leaves your hip and moves upwards to find its place on your neck. His fingers gently wrap themselves around your neck and that makes you wetter than you already are. He presses his fingers against your neck with pressure and you choke, gasping for air. Your mouth opens wide and your tongue falls out slightly resting on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench around Chan's cock tightly, your hip gyrating around it for all the friction.
Your fucked out expression as you choke for air makes Chan plunge into you harder and you choke harder, his hips lifting up and thrusting into you.
A final flick of his finger over your sensitive button and a bit more pressure over your neck are all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure and ecstasy. Your legs tighten around Chan's sides, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him. His fingers let go of your neck and you breath loudly, taking in huge gulps of air.
Not long after your undoing, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed as you feel his length pulsate within you. Thick strings coating your walls till it seeps from your vagina and drips down.
Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally fucked out and panting for air, you feel him going soft inside you. He kisses your forehead and your hair, pushing it from your face. He lifts you up, slowly slipping out of you and gently laying you by his side, the semen slipping out. His fingers rub small circles on your hips after pulling you closer into him, nuzzling into the sides of your breast.
In his warmth, with his arms over your stomach as he snuggles closer to you, you feel your eyelids heavy and fluttering shut. His lips are close to your skin, feeling his steady breathing and listening to it calms you down, steading you and increasing your melatonin, slowly drifting away to a state of peace, all in Chan's arms.
You stir in the bed, your hand reaching out for Chan only to feel the messy bed sheets and blanket. You wake up, brought to your senses well enough and you look around to find Chan only to see the light in the balcony turned on.
Putting on his white shirt messily, you rush outside to find Chan sitting and staring at the black sky. You sit by his side, shuddering in the cold and he looks at you fondly, cracking a smile.
"You're up?" You nod, teeth biting at the cold breeze that passes by, until you realise what Chan is staring at. It's snowing. It is the first snow in a long while and it's beautiful, albeit being late. He smiles at the purple mark that he has graced upon your skin. Chan stretches his arms out, blanket still in his hold as he offers to hold you close in this cold weather, to share his body warmth. He mumbles softly into your ears, "You should sleep a little more. It's going to be a tough day tomorrow. Aren't you meeting Jieun?"
"Yeah," you smile, watching the surroundings. "First thing in the morning. She seems to know a lot about everyone in this neighborhood. That, and I want to know why they treat Somin," Chan looks lost and you realise you haven't discussed it yet with him. "Kim Jihoon's widow is treated like that."
"I'm firm on this theory."
"What theory?"
"That Rowoon is the one killing people — bad homeowners — off because we'll, they disrupt his neighborhood. That or, they got drunk and it is still an accident."
"But Somin?"
"What? Anyone can be a bad homeowner! She's probably his next target." Chan chuckles and pulls you in closer. He holds you still for a while before he says, "We'll talk about the case tomorrow before you go to Jieun's. And you should clean up the mess of notes on the dinner table."
"You're the nagging kind of husband!"
"No." He is quick to deny. "I just like my house at least a bare minimum clean, alright?" You laugh out loud, falling into his hold as you try to contain your joy. Something soft hits your knees, barely visible but it settles softly.
Snow. It's snow and you see the snowflakes along with it. You watch them tumble, those feathered crystals, their chaotic flight to form a blanket that could not be more uniform, more orderly. And it's beautiful. So beautiful that it eases you and has you snuggle further into his warmth. Enough to make you forget everything for a minute there in his arms.
"I like snowflakes," you say, your head resting on his chest. There is a certain intimacy in the hour, in his hold, in this weather and between the two of you. A certain intimacy to friends who only sleep and work with each other shouldn't have. Chan looks at you, waiting for you to continue.
You do like snowflakes. A lot. Each snowflake is like a sculpture made out of paper. Each has a unique identity reflecting a crucial passage in the chosen source material with an equal amount of complexity carved out of minimal space and in the end, it falls down before someone, lighting up someone and making them happy.
"It makes me happy. It doesn't have to fit in or match with anyone else and it still means the world to someone."
Chan smiles and you know it is clearly one of your most favorite things in the world, your solace. You find the happiness growing, much as a spring flower opens. It comes from deep inside to light his eyes and spread into every part of him. Chan makes sure it is like that, that the world knows when he's happy but wouldn't, when he is sad. A person smiles with more than their mouth, and I heard it in his voice, in the choice of his words and the way he relaxed. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.
Maybe he'll teach you not to hold in your feelings. Maybe he will let you fall in love. All over again.
And you kiss him. It's short and quick, as chaste as the love you feel for him in this minute, in his arms. He leans forward and kisses you back and maybe, you both were snowflakes, as weird as you are, as unique as you — and yet the two of you make each other happy as corny as it sounds.
"Uh," Chan pulls back and rubs the back of his head and then his nape. "I—"
"Oh, a mistletoe, look!" You point and Chan turns back, frowning to look at the tree by the side with some creepers that crawl on its branch — creepers that were not mistletoes. You smile brightly as you continue pointing and Chan looks at you with a raised eyebrow.
"That's not a mistletoe."
"It isn't? I thought it was. My bad!" You laugh, eyes sparkling in mirth and cheeks heating up in embarrassment over the obvious lie you said. You sit up straight and look up at the sky.
"It's a pretty night for whatever shit that went down today," Chan comments, staring at the moon. The moon is a warm milky glow in the sky, as if the sight of her could become a song in the eyes of anyone willing to raise their head upward. You were and you were going to seize the opportunity.
Chan's gaze is fixed on the big moon and your head thinks of him and the words from Natsume Suseki and every other anime you were forced to watch, thanks to Jeongin. In every black night, he was the spark that rekindled hope in you.
"Is there something on my face, Y/N?"
"No," You turn back, smiling, heart fluttering and your mind at ease. "Just," you hold your chest, feeling the beating of your heart louder than ever.
"The moon is beautiful."
It's small and fragile. Once, and then, twice, till it sounds again and again and again through the silent air of your house.
The knocking on your door is repeated and you turn to look at Chan who stirs in his sleep, thanks to the same sound. You shuffle in your bed, trying to go back to sleep, presuming it is an illusion and nothing more. However, Chan heard it too.
"Is someone…"
"I'll go check," you mumble, huffing and throwing the blanket to the side. Luckily, Chan's shirt covers you up to your thighs. You jump out of the bed and your partner decides that it is safe to follow you to the door instead.
You open the door and in comes rushing a little boy, aged not more than eight, with tear stains on his face. He runs forward hugging your frame in his reach as he cries out loudly. Chan looks at the scene before him in delusion and you relate.
Who in the world is this child?
"Is everything alright?"
The child continues crying into your frame, burying his face into your abdomen. Chan squats down to come face to face with the child. His hand carefully holds the child's back as he pats him slowly, letting him calm down for a while before he asks again.
"Where's your mum and dad?"
"Dad isn't home. M-mum is," the child hiccups, choking on his own sobs as tears roll down his face messily. "She's in the garage and there's blood around her head and—" He cries fiercely and you hold the boy close to you, heart heavy because you know the worst possible scenario. Death.
"Why don't you take us there, okay?" Chan smiles gently. The boy looks with teary eyes at him and Chan quickly lifts him up in his hold. "Come on. Let's go."
And the boy was right and his worst nightmare comes true. You cover the eyes of the child to prevent him from further seeing the horrendous sight before him.
Because before all of you was the body of Kim Jieun, sprawled in her own driveway, her head crushed to a pulp under her garage.
An overturned shelf, a couple of paint cans that look like they have been thrown and some blood splattered on the floor is all you and Chan find last night. That, and a woman's broken pastel nail extension.
You would have checked further had it not been for your undercover and that Chan had been getting endless calls from Mayor Arsehole. Changbin fumingly goes on about how he sent the two of you to put a stop to this but rather there's another case on his desk now. The man does not calm down even after Chan says that the two of you were definitely looking for a serial killer and that these deaths were not accidents. If anything, it upsets him further.
This morning however, the sun shines brighter.
Chan walks into the kitchen, looking for you, teasingly shouting out into the air, "Honey, what's for breakfast? Eggs? Bacon? Eggs and Bacon? Or maybe it's ri—"
Before him on your cluttered table of a case file, notes and photos of evidence lies a sad bowl of soggy cereal.
"Soggy cereal it is," he frowns.
"I made it though. It should count for something, right, husband?"
Chan grunts and sits down, spoon digging into the bowl of cereal as he takes his first bite soon enough. He glances over at the wall behind the breakfast table. You have mapped out the relationship between every single person in this neighborhood, affairs inclusive and Chan lifts his lips in pride.
"Someone has been a bit busy. When did you even sleep?"
"Didn't fall asleep. So I decided to work on this instead," and Chan realises you were not even kissing. Your eyes are grogging and your face is a lot gloomier even though you are smiling off the joy of mapping it all out.
"Did you crack the case?"
"As a psychological profiler, I can say," you frown. "I haven't. I just can't figure out the connection here. These murders were distinctly targeted, so, why? Why specifically these three people?"
Chan stirs the milk in his cereal before he looks at you and suggests, "Why don't you look for a common enemy?"
"Huh?"
"Y/N, babe," you blush at the nickname and try to zero in on the matter in hand. "I know you and I see way too many crimes on a daily basis because of our job and that makes you and I think that we are chasing after some blood sucking psychopath," Chan pauses and eats a big bite of cereal. He munches on it slowly, letting you grow anxious in waiting, "We may not be dealing with some headcase who likes to strangle old women with pantyhose. Maybe we are dealing with a good old fashioned murderer; you know, the kind that kills people because they pissed them off."
You look at the board, index finger against your cheek and your eyes widen. "You could be right!"
"Don't look so surprised also," Chan mumbles, finally finishing his cereal.
"It could work. Maybe what the victims have in common is their relationship with the killer." You continue to stare at the board. Chan cleans the plate in the sink on the other end, mumbling at you to keep calm and that you would crack the case with him soon enough. You sigh, "I don't have enough information to look for a common enemy." You tap on the first victim, Yoon Yerin. "Especially on her."
Chan folds his arm and stares at you. This look ok you is another one of Chan's favorites. You purse your lips, eyebrows furrowed together as you concentrate. Your eyes don't waver just like your heart in moments like this and Chan thinks he could fall even further for you, for your confidence.
"I'll probably swing by her place and see what I can find there. What's your plan?"
"Drop by at Rowoon's and find out where the fuck he was last night when his wife was murdered and his child was all alone." Chan stands by your side and you nod.
"Be home by 6:30?"
"Sure thing, honey," Chan laughs and he kisses your forehead, his lips lingering for a little while longer and you still, body heating up in his contact.
You nervously laugh, pushing him away slightly, "You're in character," You laugh again. "Method acting, right? that's good."
Chan looks away, avoiding contact with you and mumbling, "Yeah. Method acting."
He wonders how long he has to put up with this stupid method acting.
"Any luck?"
"Besides having Rowoon almost barf on my very nice dress shirt, no," you hear Chan speaking through the phone. You walk further down the neighborhood, lush green trees on either side. As much as you despised Changbin, you had to agree — the neighborhood is great. Just that it wasn't meant for people like you. People not rich.
"Do you want me to press a shirt for you?" You tease.
"Would my wife do that?"
"In your dreams," you roar in laughter. Chan chuckles on the other end of the line.
"Anyhow, Rowoon was out fucking one of his mistress last night. He's also pretty fucked up with the death and has not stopped drinking."
"He has an alibi?"
"Yeah," Chan sighs. "It's definitely not my homeowner's rage theory then."
You walk a little more till you stand in front of an unremarkable suburban house. You tell Chan on the other end, "I'm here. I'll get back to you soon. Bye," and hang up almost immediately. Quietly, you turn on your tape recorder and speak into it.
"184 Arbor Way. The house that belonged to Yoon Yerin, the first victim. Yerin lived alone which is uniquely for this predominantly family oriented neighborhood. That alone may have made her stand out and a target for suspicion."
You walk around the house, trying to look into it and around it, "The place is scrubbed clean. Whoever Yerin was, I'll have to find out from inside. The outside is scrubbed way too clean to get rid of any possible doubts."
You take a step back and look around to see if anyone was passing by, before you lay your hand around the door knob and try turning it. It's locked. You wonder if Rowoon had the key. Glancing around carefully, you slide a paperclip from your pocket into the keyhole and jiggle it once — twice, till the door opens.
You smile brightly, "Some skills are rooted, ha! Thank God, I dated that sketchy guy back in college."
You pull open the door. Inside, the house is spotlessly clean. Almost as if no one ever lived in it. Whoever cleaned the place did a thorough job, almost leaving it spotless. You walk around the house, looking into every corner and room there to find anything. However, you are left looking at nothing but bare floors, undecorated walls and sparkling clean surfaces enough to shine.
You turn to leave, sighing out an air of disappointment when a gold sparkle catches your eye in the light. You bend down and find a man's golden cufflink lying against the corner of the room. Taking a latex glove from your pocket, you pick it up and bag it in a plastic cover, hiding it in your jacket as you leave only to bump into Somin.
"Oh, Hey," you stammer.
"I don't mean to pry but did you just come out from Yoon Yerin's house?" She raises an eyebrow and you hesitate, fingers holding the plastic bag tightly in your pocket.
"No, no, I—" You sigh, looking down. Lying after being caught red handed is useless. "Yes. I'll admit that I did."
"What on earth were you doing there?" She asks and you realise that to anyone from outside, your actions seemed very suspicious — enough to blow off your whole cover.
"The thing is, Yerin, I was there because," you close your eyes and inhale a sharp breath of air, "I was there because I got curious."
"Of?"
"I just heard what happened to Yerin and I needed to come and see the house myself."
"What could you possibly look for?" Her eyes waver and she looks back at the house.
"Some signs maybe," you look back to follow her gaze, "Maybe a blood stain or something. I know this might come out as a bit weird but I have always been fascinated by macabre. I even listen to Stephanie Soo's true crime podcasts regularly."
She smiles fondly and nods, "I understand. To be very honest, I was fascinated by Yoon Yerin too when I heard of her death. I tried coming by to see what had happened. But now," she sobs. "Jihoon is dead and so is Jieun. They say that there is a serial killer on the loose."
"It's so sad that it happened in this neighborhood," you take a step forward, trying to walk away.
"I know, right? The whole point of living in a gated community is to keep the awful things out." Somin leans forward and puts her hand around your shoulders. "Look, you seem like a really nice person, Y/N, so I'm going to be honest with you. There is something bad happening here, something very very bad. Keep your head down till it's over. It's for the best."
Her tone is lower than ever and the advice sounds scarier than usual, something as if it were to warn you of an impending danger. You call Chan and he picks up quick.
"About pressing your shirt? I think I can do that. I have some pretty cufflinks to match them."
Later that night, you sit in your kitchen, the same board looming over you. You try to map out even more connections on your chart of suspects. The whole board is so covered with lines of strings that it almost looks like a spider web.
Behind you, the door swings open and Chan comes in, strides longer and quicker to take him to you as he screams, "Honey, I'm home."
You laugh, twirling in your rotating chair as you look at him and ask, "How long have you been wanting to do that?"
"Since we got this assignment. Of course, I mean," he tries putting a serious face, "It is sad that we were forced to do this by Han when he blackmailed us with that sex tape—"
"It's not a sex tape."
"The footings, but," Chan smiles widely, "It wasn't so bad to play house with you, Y/N."
"Likewise, Chan."
"Now, did you find anything?" Chan asks, resting his chin on your shoulder once you turn to face the board, his hand on your other and you freeze, surprised by the sudden contact, ironically. "This mapping just got messier."
"Yeah," you exhale and your shoulders slouch. Chan stands up straight as he tries to understand the board before him. "I tried mapping all the infidelities and affairs and this is what I got. A whole mess. It's all convoluted now."
Chan's eyes widen as he tries tracing the lines with his index finger before giving up. "Is everyone cheating on their spouses here?"
"Almost everyone."
Chan takes a step back, opens the fridge and pulling out a can of beer, he goes to sit on the sofa. You turn your chair around and watch him take a sip of it.
"Wow, you look as if you're right at home," you tease.
"There's space for two here," he pats the sofa by his side, and grins sheepishly.
You get up and take your own can of beer from the fridge, mumbling, "I can sure take a break," and walk towards him, plopping down by his side. The two of you clink your beer cans, the sound clattering through the walls.
"It's Christmas tomorrow, you know?"
You hum in agreement, "It's my first one outside home."
"I hope we can crack the case soon so that you can at least spend a few hours with your family on Christmas."
"Hey," you nudge his arm, "The thought of spending Christmas with you does not repulse me, okay?"
"I had not even said that," Chan gasps. He turns to look at you, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "So does that mean the thought does repulse you?"
"Don't twist my words," you laugh.
"Do you want to get married?"
You choke on your drink, eyes wide as you look at him. He pats your back as he tells you to breathe slowly. You finally ask, "The thought or with a specific person?"
"Both."
"Yes, and no," you mumble. "I do want to get married once but," you look at Chan for a minute as he drinks his beer. "I don't think I have my feelings sorted properly to have the privilege to think of thoughts like that."
Chan leans forward, eyes dazed and fixed on yours. Has he always been this beautiful, this captivating? Has he always made your heart beat so much quicker?
"Do you think you'll ever be ready to sort them out?"
You sputter and choke again. Chan smiles again; this time however, it looked sad. He stands up, placing the beer can down on the table before. "I should get some fresh air. Take a stroll in the neighborhood and make sure nothing is going around, yeah."
You turn away, face too scared to look at him in worries of your emotions being transparent. "Yeah, you should do that. I'll get back to the mapping."
"I'll, uhm, I'll be back in a few." Chan rubs the back of his neck before quickly stepping out of the house. You sigh, head fuzzy with the overload of emotions.
He doesn't know you were ready. He doesn't know you wanted more. He doesn't know how you confessed that night to him in the moonlight. He doesn't know of how you feel, because of you. You never told him directly, always twisting your words and actions. If anything, you had no one else besides yourself to blame.
"Chan," you whisper but it's too late. He's out.
A step too late to realise as always.
You snap out of your daze caused by the overload of emotions. Getting up, you slightly slap yourself and mumble, "Focus. Back to work now." You reach out into your pocket and take the cufflinks to file away. You turn it around in your hand when it flashes.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," you zero in on the object in your hand. "I've seen this cufflink before." You rush to the board, eyes scanning the pictures to see where you had seen it when it finally lands on the second picture pinned on the board.
You had seen it on the second victim — Kim Jihoon.
"Oh my god," you sigh, hand limp on both sides as you realise you know who it is. You know who the killer is and you know her motive.
"I know the killer. It's Somin, oh my—"
"Clever girl," you hear the feminine voice from behind you. You spin around quickly, hand on your chest as your eyes widen to find Somin standing by the door with a huge butcher knife in her hold.
"It was you!"
"That's right. Me." She takes a step forward. Instinctively, you glance back across the living room to where your gun hangs in a holster, draped over the coat rack.
Somin takes another step forward, speaking, "Sweet little Somin. Fragile, pitiful Somin. Somin who everyone always thinks they can pick on, lie to and laugh at — Ha!" He leaps forward and wildly waves her knife. She yells. "Well, who's laughing now? Who's laughing now?"
You dodge back, repeating to yourself to dawn the fact that it is true, that, "Jihoon was having an affair with Yerin."
"That ungrateful, cheating bastard couldn't wait to jump into that slut's bed. So I showed them both," she laughs. "I showed them both well."
"That I can understand," you edge closer to the coat stand to try and get your gun. "But why did you have to kill Jieun too?"
"Are you kidding me?" She yells. "That bitch stole my snickerdoodle recipe."
You huff out in disbelief, eyes narrowing at her and eyebrows furrowing, "Ah, I see. You're a full blown psychotic."
"I was going to stop after her, you know? But then you had to go and poke your nose around in the neighborhood. Stupid bitch."
Somin takes another step towards you and you know you are still far away from your gun. She is now almost at an arm's reach and you take a step backwards instinctively. She waves her knife again and you dodge it carefully.
"Who are you, huh? A cop?"
"An NIS profiler actually." She looks lost and you sigh. "A cop, yes."
"Well, Y/N," she glares. "Do you know what I hate the most? Liars." Somin lunges at you, jabbing the knife towards your throat. You dodge to the side, neatly weaving around the thrust. Somin stumbles past you, knocking over a giant carton of cereal, spilling it everywhere.
"Argh," and she swipes again. You dodge nimbly to the side again. Her knife cuts through the air with an audible hiss and the adrenaline pumps into your blood from the fear. The knife hits the fruit bowl and sends bright red apples scattering on the table, over your notes.
"Well, well, aren't you fast?"
"You've no fucking idea," you hiss, taking in as much air as you can. You back up and feel the counter behind you.
"Enough talk!"
You gulp, gripping the counter firmly. Somin dives towards you, slicing her knife at you. You reach back and grab a heavy toaster. You pull it around and holdi it out in front of you. It crackles loudly with a hot, electrical burst.
"Fuck." Somin jerks back, as if stung, the knife dropped from her grip. The knife clatters to the floor, it's tip blackened from char thanks to the electricity. Somin steps away, clenching and unclenching her hand.
"That fucking hurts, you bitch."
You drop the toaster and step back, putting your hands up defensively in front of your face. You propose, "Look, Somin, it's still not too late to surrender. We can still end this peacefully, alright?"
"You think I'm going to give up just because I lost my knife? I need to survive." Somin bounces up and down, assuming a combative stance. "I've been taking aerobic kickboxing for four years." She bounds towards you and shoots a lightning fast kick at your head. You guard your face and block her kick. She bounces back and aims to kick at your shins, hard. You jump, hopping back neatly avoiding her kick.
"Are you done?"
"No," Somin recovers quickly, spinning in a fast arc and throwing out a devastating, high roundhouse. You throw up your hands and block the kick. She staggers back, her balance off.
You seize the moment to spin around, swing low and lunge towards Somin, jamming the palm of your hand into her chin. You slide your one leg between hers and jerk back, kicking her feet out from under her and slam her down into the ground. The back of her head hits the cold tiles on the floor. You force yourself on top of her, pressing down on her chest with one knee and pant, "Four years of kickboxing, huh? Try seven years of krav maga."
She squirms under you, huffing, "Get off," and quickly lunging to get the toaster. Your eyes widen and you try to grab her hands. However, she's already about to throw the toaster when you hear the sound of metal clinking once and the toaster falling by your side.
"Nah, you're not going to hurt my wife," you turn to look at Chan, pointing the gun. He walks further ahead to the two of you. "Kim Somin, you are under arrest for the murder of Yoon Yerin, Kim Jihoon and Kim Jieun. You have the right—"
"They were all liars. All cheaters. It's not fair," she yells, struggling under your hold. You hold her wrists tighter and Chan slams the handcuffs on her.
"It's over, Somin. It's all over. The court will hear the rest, and the dead will have their peace."
"Did you reach home?"
Your phone is connected to the bluetooth speakers in your car and you hear Chan's voice in the small vehicle. You rotate the steering wheel as you turn to the right across the street. It's a comparatively quieter day, almost as if it's in stark contrast to the shit that went down last night.
"Not yet. I'm two minutes away."
"Merry Christmas, Y/N," Chan laughs and you smile, your lips pressed together to prevent you from breaking into a big grin. "Don't miss your husband too much."
"Still in character, I see." You press on the gas to reach home a little quicker. "Are you spending it alone?"
"Nah," you hear voices in the background. "I'm spending it with Felix and Han."
"Don't miss me too much either then," you tease back and pull up at your place. You park the car in the garage and sit in the car as you speak to Chan. "And I'll meet you back in office in a few days—"
"Did you reach?"
"Oh, yes?"
"Then, check the backseat. It's my Christmas gift for you," Chan says. You unbuckle your seat belt and lift yourself up to turn back and search the backseat only to find a small box. You stretch your arms to grab it and finally sit back in your seat.
"Did you find it?" You hear Chan through the speakers again. You hum in response and open the gift.
It's a necklace. A beautiful thin silver chain with a snowflake pendant hanging and you gasp, heart beating way too quick. He remembers. He remembers. He remembers. If you were not already flushed by the gift, the note stuck on the underside of the cover of the box has your mind fuzzy, feelings all over.
The moon is beautiful.
"Chan?"
"Yeah? Did you not like the gift? I'm—"
"I'm coming over in ten minutes. Send Han and Felix away. All I want this Christmas is you. Just you."
#straykidsland#chan smut#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids hard hours#skz hard hours#chan hard hours#skz fanfic#stray kids fanfic#stray kids imagines#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#skz imagines#stray kids#skz#bang chan#bang chan x reader#chan crime#stray kids crime#kpop smut#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines#writings.rue
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his to claim | bucky barnes
[Warnings] dark!alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader, a/b/o dynamics, werewolf au, fury!reader, monica is a fury too, sam wilson x monica, virgin!innocent!reader, hint of ddlg dynamic, noncon sex, noncon marking, soulmates au, oral sex (female recieving), kidnapping
A/N: enjoy this long (long for me at least) one-shot!
In which you befriend a lonely Alpha.
taglist: @cherienymphe @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan
main masterlist
word count: 5.8k
Sam knew Bucky was in one of his moods. One of his moods where he’d disappear for five days, not give a clue to where he was going, and return covered in blood. Although Bucky’s closest friend and Beta to his pack, Sam, was getting married this week, Bucky was stuck in his ways. Bucky knew that a wedding meant that another pack would be invading his land, filling the pack house with strangers, and two packs meant there would be two Alphas. Although he respected Alpha Fury, Bucky wasn’t the type to get along nicely with others, especially other Alphas.
It was one in the morning when the white wolf passed through the tree line, the packhouse coming into view. The three-story cabin fit many of the high-ranking families and was the center of most pack activities. Meetings, gatherings, and celebrations for the Winter’s Shield pack were all held here.
Bucky shifted, each one of his bones cracking roughly back into place as if they’d forgotten they were half-human. As he expected, there was a pair of shorts waiting for him on the porch. Nat always hated when he’d show up naked in the middle of the night. This is my house, he’d say. Save it for your mate, she’d say back. Bucky would always scoff at that. Not many Alphas make it to their thirties without a mate and Bucky was quite willing to keep his single streak going.
The house was heated, comforting him after losing the warmth of his coat. Still, he was covered in elk blood and could use a shower along with a twelve-hour nap. He walked towards the winding stairs, only to hear rumbling in the kitchen, and deciding to investigate. He was the only night owl around here, or at least that’s what he thought.
He could already smell that there were foreigners around and prayed this week would go by fast. Flicking on the kitchen light, he found you sitting on the island counter. You looked up from your carton of chocolate ice cream with wide eyes. He expected you to freak out at the sight of him but it seemed you were more embarrassed on your behalf rather than frightened.
“Sorry … I was just gonna have one bowl and then that turned into two. And then …” You emphasized the spoon that was sitting in the mostly eaten carton. Omega, his wolf said. There was a strange omega sitting on his kitchen counter in oversized pajamas and hair rollers. His eyes fell to something sitting behind her which she instantly pushed further behind her back in panic, “There’s a little left if you want some.”
“Who are you?” Bucky asked, a little more harshly than he intended.
“Y/N,” You answered, a bit flustered, “I’m Monica’s sister … also her maid of honor. I know there isn’t usually a maid of honor in our wedding ceremonies but there’s always a maid of honor in the movies. I’m gonna throw her such a cool bachelorette party, Natasha said we could have it in the living room-”
Bucky felt suffocated by your excitement. Feeling overwhelmed by the bright lights and whatever his wolf was feeling for you, he said, “Stop,” He raised a hand, confused by your comfortableness with the situation. You talked to him, an Alpha, so casually and you didn’t seem at all frightened by his bloody appearance, “Do you know who I am?”’
“Alpha Barnes,” You hopped down from the counter, making sure to keep whatever you were hiding behind your back, “Sam said you’d be back at some point. They made a bet on whether or not you’d get back before or after my dad left. Everyone said you’d skip the wedding.”
Alpha Fury’s second daughter. An Omega. An annoying, little, ice-cream stealing Omega.
“Well here I am,” Bucky stepped closer to you and was surprised when you didn’t even blink at that. An omega raised by an Alpha, you were something Bucky had never encountered, “Why are you raiding my kitchen so late at night, Omega.”
There was a flash of sadness in your eyes, “I had a nightmare … ice cream always makes me feel better. You ever get nightmares, Alpha Barnes?” Bucky’s brows furrowed.
“No,” Bucky spoke coldy, confused about what was pulling him closer to you.
“Nuh-uh, no way,” Bucky thought you were challenging him but there was an innocent smile on your face, “My Dad said you’ve fought in lots of battles, challenged a lot of other Alphas, you must see a lot of terrible stuff. You never even get a little bit scared?”
Bucky ignored your pressing question, the look on his face frustrated, “What’s behind your back?”
“Uhm … what’s behind yours?” You tried distracting him but Bucky knew there was nothing behind him.
“Show me,” He commanded, knowing that Omega inside of you wouldn’t want to disobey him.
You huffed.
Stupid alphas, Bucky heard your voice but your lips didn’t move.
You pulled an old, stuffed bear from behind your back, “It’s Mr. Cuddlebear …. he also helps with the nightmares,” In his eyes, you were definitely too old to have a stuffed animal but his wolf found it endearing. He hated that, “You never got scared even when you were a little? No monsters under the bed? Boogeyman in the closet?”
“It’s late,” Bucky changed the subject, “I’m sure we have a long week ahead of us. I’d take … that-”
“Mr. Cuddlebear,” You interrupted, reminding him of your teddy bear’s name.
“Go to bed, little wolf.”
Stupid Alpha voice.
You rolled your eyes as your feet began to move before your brain began to register, “Goodnight, Alpha Barnes,” You left the kitchen, carrying the teddy bear with you, “Sleep tight, don’t let the vampires bite.” He heard your little giggle as you climbed up the stairs.
Bucky placed his hands on the counter, staring at the ice cream. Did he ever have nightmares? No one had ever asked him that before.
Bucky cleaned up nice, you thought as you looked at him across the room. No one expected him to even come, let alone put on a nice suit jacket. The rehearsal dinner was loud with both Winter’s Shield and the Daystar pack mingling together for the first time. Sam seemed to be having the time of his life, your father was being much lighter than usual, and Monica was …. well, Monica.
You were talking with a bunch of people, giving out the sugar cookies you’d made when you made eye contact with him. He drank from his glass of wine and you noticed he was standing with Sam and Monica. She was in the prettiest yellow dress and you could tell Sam was happy to find a mate so beautiful.
You’d looked away, focusing on meeting everyone when Monica started to walk towards you.
“Stay away from him, please,” She stepped in front of you.
“Stay away from who?”
“Alpha Barnes,” She spoke lowly.
“He’ll be your Alpha soon, you know.”
“You don’t think I know that?”
“I already met him, Monica,” You smiled, “He was nice to me in like a weird, cold way.”
She shook her head, your words seeming to worry her more, “That’s what I’m worried about,” She grabbed your hand, leading you away to one of the tables in the corner. You had a plate of sugar cookies in your hands, some you’d made especially for the party to give out, “You have a tendency to make people like you but you don’t want him to like you, trust me. All that stuff Daddy taught us still stands, it doesn’t matter that we know him now. So just sit here, and do nothing, please.”
“But what about my cookies? I have to give them out!” You whined as she fenced you in, forcing you to sit down.
“I’ll do it,” She smiled, taking the plate from your hands, “You’ve socialized enough I think so just … relax.”
“But-” She was already walking away. You loved your sister, she was your best friend, but she was still a Beta. She had no idea what it was like to be you, surrounded by jerks who thought they were better than you. Maybe that’s why you liked talking with people so much, to prove that maybe you were more fragile than them but you weren’t invisible. Right now, you felt invisible.
You could only watch everyone have fun without you for so long and you got out of the seat about ten minutes later. You left the large white tent, where it was much cooler, and you didn’t mind being alone as much.
You told yourself to cheer up, trying not to frown. A week from now, you’ll be home, you’ll be on house arrest again but without Monica. You were going to savor this small vacation no matter the obstacles.
Bucky found you outside sitting in the grass as you stared up at the moon. He got that feeling again, his wolf wanting to be closer to yours, and wished he felt differently. You looked back at him as you felt him approaching, and you heard Monica’s voice in your head telling you to stay away.
“Did you try my cookies?” Your lips pulled into a smile that, like everything about you, confused him.
“I didn’t … I watched Sam eat six of them though,” The tall Alpha responded, sticking his hands into his pants pocket.
“Watching your perfect, Alpha-physique?”
Bucky actually felt the need to smile though he kept himself controlled, “Something of that nature, yes.”
“Awe, a few cookies won’t hurt,” You stood up from the ground, dusting off your dress. Bucky noticed your mary jane’s and the little butterfly clips in your curls, “Let me guess, you only prey on innocent animals.”
The Alpha smirked, “I’ll make sure to try your cookies next time, little wolf.”
“Sadly, there won’t be a next time,” You stepped past him and he followed after you, as you walked towards the tree line, “My father will probably find me a mate that lives across the country so he doesn’t have to deal with me.”
“Ah, that’s right,” Both Monica and Fury wanted to make it clear to him that you were practically claimed. You didn’t know yet but Peter Parker of the Stark pack was waiting for you. Fury was planning a quick, summer wedding, “I can’t imagine the poor fool who will have to deal with your kitchen raids and Mr. Cuddlebear.”
You grinned, “You remembered his name?” Bucky remembered and he’d been watching you ever since that late night, “I thought you might laugh at me, Monica does.”
Bucky was quiet for a long moment and, as you looked at him, it seemed that his mind was racing with thoughts, “I’ve had nightmares before,” He stated and you waited for him to elaborate.
“What happened in them?” You prodded softly.
Another long pause, “When was the last time you shifted?”
You figured that’s all you were going to get out of him. You thought for a moment, “I can’t even remember. Not since the winter solstice at least.”
“Let’s go on a run,” Bucky said, not waiting for you to agree. He picked up his pace, walking past the tree line and expecting you to follow. You hurried after him, your heart suddenly beginning to pound in your chest.
“Alpha Bucky, Monica will kill me. Literally. She threw a hairdryer at me once,” You said, sounding panicked, though you got deeper and deeper into the woods, “And what about my dress?”
He turned around suddenly and you almost ran into his broad chest, “Take it off,” He ordered. Your hand instinctively reached up to the strap and you panicked, “Go behind a tree, I mean.”
“But Monica-”
“You’re an adult, right?”
You shrugged, “I try to be-”
“Then you can decide. Besides that, I’ll be Monica’s Alpha soon enough.”
You imagined her throwing a fit but you still conceded, walking to find a tree to hide behind, “It might take me a second, I think I’m a shy shifter.”
“Take your time, little wolf,” His words were more comforting than you expected.
You stripped from your clothes behind the tree, trying not to imagine what Monica would think of you. An unmated female getting naked in the forest with an unmated male in the middle of the forest? There were all types of moral codes you had to be breaking.
Standing in the cold, you shut your eyes tightly. Monica taught you the counting method when you were younger. You tried to tune out the rest of your thoughts, focusing on the nature around you, as you counted down from ten over and over again. It was instinct after that, the Moon Goddess taking over and unleashing your inner wolf. You didn’t feel the pain as your bones molded into their new positions and you became the second version of yourself.
When you stepped from behind the tree, the white wolf was towering over your small, grey figure.
His head tilted down towards you and you could already tell his wolf wanted to be more friendly with you than his human self. He smelled you, biting at your neck but you were even more playful in wolf form. You walked between his legs, confusing him, until you ran in the opposite direction. He chased after you and you didn’t expect to outrun him but you planned to give him a run for his money.
He couldn’t sleep with you so close by. He tried going on another run to clear his head but his mind was full with you. He’d lived a long life yet this feeling in his soul was brand new. Never had Bucky desired anyone to be anything but a casual fling. His wolf wanted more than to just conquer you which was territory Bucky found hard to navigate. What would it say for his legacy if he took an Omega as his mate? How empty would he feel if he let you go tomorrow? What relationships would he throw away in order to claim you as his?
Covered in sweat, he pulled the sheets from his body, sitting up in his bed.
Nightmare, his wolf echoed in his mind. Bucky rubbed his temples. That wasn’t a nightmare to him, he was just an overthinking mess. He was going to ignore that feeling until he sensed something was truly wrong.
She dreams of pain and suffering.
Go to her.
Bucky stood up from his bed, filing out of his room, and down the long hallways of the packhouse. He pressed his ear to your door, his hand lightly touching the doorknob. He heard soft whimpers from the inside and, for a moment, he resisted you. He would turn around and try to go back to sleep. Instead, his wolf took control.
Bucky opened the door, your whimpering continuing and you stirred although it wasn’t because of him. He closed the door gently, moving towards your bed, crossing a boundary that he was sure would be frowned upon. Your cheeks were stained with tears and you seemed to be grabbing Mr. Cuddlebear for dear life.
He sat carefully at the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch you, “Y/N,” He whispered, trying to suppress the anger that he felt over the pain you were in.
“No, no,” You whispered over and over again.
“Little wolf,” He whispered again, his hand on your arm. The Alpha’s touch startled you out of your sleep and your eyes were wide with fear as you came back to consciousness. You weren’t sure why he was in your room or why your nightmares were getting so bad, “It’s just a bad dream-”
You sat up from your position and wrapped your arms around the Alpha. He seemed to freeze at your touch but you hugged him tighter for comfort. He wrapped his arms around you, his hand tentatively rubbing at your back and you heavily breathed against his chest.
“I’m sorry, I just … you were crying.”
“I-I woke you up?”
“No,” Bucky lied, “I was just walking by and I heard you.”
“Alpha Bucky?”
“Yes?”
“Everything’s going to change tomorrow. My wolf, she senses something bad coming, and she’s scared.”
Bucky stiffened again, his wolf beginning to worry. “Something bad? What do you mean?”
“I don’t know but the dreams are getting worse.”
“What do you see in your dreams?”
“I’m … I’m walking in his field, there’s so much sunshine and flowers a-and I’m walking towards the sun. I’m walking and walking and I’m happy and then I just start to sink into the ground. And I’m drowning and it feels like someone is holding me, pulling down further and further. I can’t breathe and there’s just this darkness a-and I-I-”
“Hey, hey,” He shushed you, sensing you were about to hyperventilate, “It’s okay. Nothing is going to take you away. No one, do you understand?”
He felt you nodding and he grabbed you tighter, deciding he was going to hold you for as long as you needed him to.
“I didn’t tell you because of this reason-”
The pen in Bucky’s hand snapped in half and his fists balled up tightly, “Sam, today is your wedding, I understand that but this is my territory. I decide who comes in and out of it. That’s final.”
“They’re already here-”
“Then send them away. Fury is trying to push me and this is the final straw.”
“He’s already married the first daughter off, he’s just trying to do the same with Y/N. And he knows that this is a chance for three alphas to sit down and discuss what we’re going to do about the rogue situation.”
Feeling that he was drawing blood from clenching his fist so hard, he moved them under his desk. “I can handle problems that concern my own pack. Tony is even more arrogant than Fury, we’ll never agree.”
“You have to at least try, Alpha,” Sam sighed, “You haven’t found one woman you’d consider having little Buckys with. Maybe Stark will bring someone that will pique your interest?”
Bucky ignored him, “When Stark arrives-” Sam let out a triumphant cheer, “-Bring him and Fury to my office. I won’t need you here, I’m sure you’ll have much to prepare for this evening.”
“You won't regret this.”
Bucky followed Peter’s line of sight. There you were, standing in a beautiful periwinkle dress, waiting for your sister to walk down the aisle and join an anxious Sam. The birds were singing, a violin was being played, and everyone was collectively ready to celebrate the joyous moment. Everyone except Bucky.
Of course, Peter wanted to look at you, a beautiful creature, an unmated female, he'd be lucky to call you his mate. He was young like you, he'd be able to get all your references, keep up with your energetic ramblings, you'd get to go far away from your father and you'd be so happy. You'd forget all about Monica. You’d forget all about the week you spend in Winter’s Shield.
The wedding went off without a hitch and Bucky watched you have the time of your life. Peter targeted you, of course, that was the entire reason was her, to woo you and it was working. You were dancing together, laughing when Peter made a silly misstep.
Bucky shooed away every Stark girl who tried to approach him, even denying a Beta, until he was standing alone in the corner.
The festivities calmed down late into the night, you had to say goodbye to Peter, Monica was whisked away to a “private cabin” and everyone else returned to their rooms. Your father reminded you to pack your things as you’d be leaving early in the morning.
Looking at Mr. Cuddlebear sitting on your bed, you were reminded of the events of last night. You didn’t expect so much kindness from the cold Alpha but, as Monica warned you, he seemed to like you. You still thought she was being dramatic with her warning and that she would grow to like her new Alpha.
You never did really get to thank him and he also never tried your cookies. You had an amazing idea and late-night baking always led to amazing things.
Bucky was pacing the length of his room when there was a knock at his door. His wolf knew instantly that it was with you like the Moon Goddess had answered his prayers. He was fighting every natural urge in his body and he planned to hide away until everyone was gone tomorrow. Now, he had no idea what he was going to do.
When Bucky opened the door, you were standing with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk, and a kind smile on your face, “A thank you for last night,” You offered, “I figured you’d like a plain chocolate chip cookie. I’m not sure though-”
“Come in,” Bucky said quickly, closing the door behind you. You noted that he was still wearing his dress pants though he was only wearing a sleeveless undershirt at his top. Though you’d seen him shirtless before, this time felt more intimate.
“Try one,” You insisted, “Please.”
Bucky was hesitant, his diet not usually including such human pleasures, but he was quite surprised with the first bite. You seemed nervous, expecting a good reaction which Bucky found adorable, “They’re good,” Bucky nodded, “I mean, they’re great. Here, come sit down.”
As you took a seat on the edge of the giant bed, Bucky grabbed the glass and plate from your hands, moving to set it on the nightstand, “Your room is … big.”
You grew a bit nervous as the bed dipped beside you and Bucky took a seat. You always felt his strong energy, even last night, but now it was a bit overpowering. You blamed it on the approaching full moon and tried to ignore it, “You don’t like it?”
“No, no, I like it. It’s … simple,” Bucky tried his best to register your mood. Were you nervous? That was the last feeling he expected to feel from you. You were always rambling or talking about something you were annoyingly passionate about.
“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, his head turned to you.
You didn’t answer him, “What do you know about the Stark pack?”
Bucky’s hands folded together and his jaw clenched as reality set in, “I sense you know of your father’s plans.”
“I had a suspicion,” You sighed.
“And … you’re unhappy with his decision?”
You were quiet for a moment, “What if it isn’t a good idea?”
“I’m sure … I’m sure your father wouldn’t lead you astray. The man infuriates me but he’s usually quite wise …”
“You’re right …” You said, staring back at the Alpha who seemed to be experiencing a whirlwind of emotions behind his eyes, “My nightmares, they just make me nervous for the future-”
“You could stay,” Bucky stated quickly, sure of himself. His hand touched your thigh and your eyes began to widen, “With me, I mean. And, of course, Monica would be here too.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat, “You don’t mean … I’m an Omega, Alpha Bucky.”
A thin smile pulled at his lips, “I’ve noticed that, yes. Believe me, my offer does not come from a place of ignorance. I’ve been thinking about this, I promise, and it could be good for both of us. You could stay near your sister and I could …”
It took everything in you to push away from that bed, “My Dad would be livid. Beyond livid, actually. And Peter. The treaty. It would throw everything off balance, Alpha Bucky.” He stood, his shadow draping over you as you took a hesitant step back.
“Who needs balance if there is a connection here. My wolf feels yours, they’re drawn to each other, I know you can sense that.”
“Bucky-”
“Listen, little wolf, please,” He insisted, stepping closer, “I’ve never been sure before, not in my entire life. This, I am sure about.”
You shook your head, “Well, I am not,” Bucky’s eyes seemed to darken, “I like you and there’s a connection, yes, but as my father’s daughter, I have responsibilities. I respect him too much to go behind his back. You have to understand that.”
“You came here tonight. That night in the forest. You didn’t know it but you called me to your room last night. What am I supposed to make of your advances-”
“Advances? I thought you were a friend-”
“Stop,” He commanded, leaving your body frigid from the power of his voice, “Don’t move.”
He took your face into his hands and you whimpered, “Bucky, I gave you the wrong impression.”
“No, you may not know it yet but this is what your wolf wants. We’re animals, underneath it all, and there’s only so much we can control our own desires,” You pushed against his chest when he smashed his lips on yours. You bit down on your bottom lip, wishing your feet would push you further away from him. When he pulled away, he was grinning, blood on his lips, “Biting, huh? I’m happy to play along with your game.”
You opened your mouth but he was too quick, “Don’t scream, little wolf. The screaming is the next part.”
His hands move to your waist, pulling you into his muscular body. He kissed you again, kissing the sides of your mouth and chin. Your hands pulled into small fists as he held you, his touch sending foreign feelings through your body. You felt an overwhelming warmth, more than his body heat, but the warmth of the bond his own wolf felt for yours. His mouth met with your neck and that's when your lips parted and moans escaped your lips.
“Please,” Was all you could manage. “Please stop.”
Your mouth was saying one thing but it was clear to him that you enjoyed his touch, “Don’t think of me like the bad guy, Omega. When I’m your Alpha, I won’t be like Fury. I’ll let you be who you are, you won’t be just an object to pawn off for power. You’ll be my Omega but you’ll stand beside me, not behind. You’ll be happy with me. I can take the nightmares aways, remember?”
“No, no,” You resisted, knowing deep down that he was that darkness in your dream. You were right to be scared but you hadn’t suspected that you should be scared of me, “M-My father will challenge you a-and you’ll lose any respect you once had.”
He grabbed you roughly by your chin, his forehead pressed against yours as he held your body, “I’ve never cared much for puritanical pack society … why should I care now, Omega?”
You sniffled, “Because you care about me?”
“You’re young, little wolf. I don’t expect you to fully understand but it's because I care that I have to do this. It will only hurt for a little while, okay?” He wasn’t asking for permission and as he pulled his face from yours, his eyes went black, and you were already screaming as his sharp canines protruded from his mouth.
He pulled your head to the side, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. As you collapsed, he kept you in his arms, and you both went down to your knees. It was an indescribable pain, paralyzing, until it wasn’t. Your vision blurred as it felt like the strongest drug rushed through your body. It was not the way you imagined you’d be marked, you surely weren’t in love, and the man who’d claimed you was unhinged.
As you slipped into the darkness, you heard someone screaming your name. You felt a little hope that you’d be saved but you couldn’t hold on longer.
You grabbed your shoulder instantly as your eyes shot open, roughly pulling yourself from slumber. You winced, your hand running over the bandaged skin, as you realized the magnitude of the situation. Taking a moment to look around your surroundings, you found that you were somewhere that you didn’t recognize.
It was a small, one-room cabin, the living room, kitchen and the bed you were on were all in the same room. A tear slipped down your face as you threw your legs over the side of the bed. Your legs were bare, your bridesmaid dress gone, and a large t-shirt was the only thing that you were wearing. He’d undressed you all the way and had no problem with it, probably due to the fact that he’d bonded you together for life.
He’d even made sure to bring Mr. Cuddlebear along though you weren’t sure anything could calm you now.
As you were about to push yourself off the bed, the cabin door opened, and a shirtless, freshly-shifted Bucky appeared. He took one look at you and his jaw clenched.
“W-Where are we?”
“Couple miles off of my territory,” He stated, shutting the door and walking to the kitchen. As he turned his back, you got up from the bed, moving cautiously towards the fireplace which was closer to the door, “So no one can bother us.”
“My Father, where is he? How did you … without him knowing …”
He reached into the cabinet, grabbing a glass to fill with tap water. You were eyeing the door, wondering if he was just pretending to be distracted by his task, “Oh, he knew,” Bucky chuckled, “He was livid, like you said, but he couldn’t do anything. He can’t touch you anymore now that you’re bitten. No one can.”
Your face fell, “But-” Bucky turned around and it hit you. The bite reshaped your chemistry and now any Alpha wouldn’t be able to get near you until you were fully mated. Alpha Fury wasn’t coming for you.
But Monica-
“Monica isn’t coming either, little wolf. Remember, I’m her Alpha now too,” Bucky moved forward, the glass in hand, “You should drink, you lost a good amount of blood.”
You stepped to the side, moving away as he approached, “You knew you’d only hurt me, even when I thought you were my friend.”
His lips pressed into a thin line as he moved closer, “I know that’s how you feel now-” You climbed onto the couch and over it as he moved closer, “Y/N, come here. Now.” You eyed the door, now closer to it than he was.
“You’re a monster.”
“Little mate, if you continue to not listen to me, I’m going to come over there, throw you over my shoulder, and tie you down to that bed for the next few days because that's just the type of mood I’m in right now.”
“I’ll never. Be. Your mate-”
The sound of breaking glass made you jump and you watched the cup crumble in his grasp. Almost falling, you made a sprint for the door. As soon as you’d gotten it open, a hand was above you, slamming it closed. He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you back towards the bed.
He pushed you down onto it, making sure not to put any pressure on your bite, before climbing on top of you. He pinned down your kicking legs, saying, “You’ll hurt yourself, little mate,” He tried to console you, shushing you as you began to whimper, “Please don’t fight it anymore…” But you panicked even more as he lifted your shirt.
He gripped your thighs tightly, pulling your exposed sex to his mouth. One hand you could barely move because of the bite, the other gripped the comforter tightly, as he kissed between your thighs. Of course you’d never been touched so Bucky would be as gentle as he could manage. He also knew that your new bite would heighten every feeling he gave you and it wasn’t long before you’d be a mewling mess.
You thought that maybe you’d gone into heat, that’s why his touch felt so good, but you were very wrong. You could only imagine what it would feel like when your body craved to be pregnant. He cooled your fire, and within thirty seconds you were already having your first orgasm. He kept his mouth on you as you rode out the pleasure, not letting you take any breaks as he began to kiss up your body, moving the shirt further and further up your body.
He kissed over your mark which sent waves of pleasure through you, making him growl, “You’re mine, little mate,” Then he kissed your lips as you moaned against them. As he positioned himself between your legs, you knew what was coming.
“Bucky, please. I-I’m scared.”
“It’ll hurt just for a little while,” He assured you, reaching above you to grab Mr. Cuddlebear, “Hold on to your bear, little wolf.”
You held the stuffed bear tightly against your chest as he positioned himself at your entrance. You could feel how big he was even as you tried to avoid eye contact with him. Looking away didn’t last long as he grabbed your chin, making sure he could see your face as he slid each inch inside of you. He stretched you open, taking the air from your lungs, as you tried to adjust to the feeling.
“That’s it, I’ve got you,” He grunted, leaning down to kiss your chin. He’d slowly pull in and out of you, letting you get used to him. He kissed over your mark again, easing the pain, and turning your whimpers into moans, “Good girl, my good girl.”
“Please,” You started to wish for him to push you over the edge, to give you another orgasm, not for him to let you go. He kissed you, using his hand to rub your sensitive bulb as he pushed in and out of you, “Please, please - ah!”
Your back arched and your senses were delighted as an orgasm ripped through you. He didn’t slow, speeding up his pace, as he went back to kissing over your bite. He reached below you, pulling you further down onto his member. He was animalistic, every natural instinct in his body telling him to pleasure you until you couldn’t walk anymore and to round your belly.
You came again, this time at the same time as him, your bodies melting together as he released within you. As he laid against you, catching his breath, you could see the setting sun shining through the window. He wasn’t anything like you feared and maybe that's why you trusted him so easily.
“You’ll be happy with me one day, I promise,” He kissed your wet cheeks.
Part of you hoped you could trust him again because, after all, that mark was forever.
#bucky barnes#dark!bucky x you#dark fics#dark!bucky barnes#dark!bucky smut#dark!bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#monica rambeau#nick fury#sam wilson#sam wilson x monica#werewolf!bucky#alpha!bucky barnes#omega!reader#a/b/o smut#avengers a/b/o#alpha omega#peter parker#black!reader#bucky barnes x black!reader#dark!fic#dark fic
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you belong with me [cassie howard]
cassie howard x fem reader
requested: Hey! Can I request a f! reader x Cassie Howard fic where the reader is in love with Cassie, but it's like a slow burn happy holidays! xx
key: italics stand for rue’s voiceover! enjoy
*not my gif*
Y/N Y/L/N and Cassie Howard have been best friends since they were little. Y/N was always there for Cassie during her whole childhood. Watching her from the sidelines as her figure skating became more and more incredible.
“Y/N! When are you gonna get off your lazy bum and join us?” Cassie’s dad asks during one of their many ice skating practice sessions.
You were taken back by surprise and you looked towards Cassie who was giving you her best pouty lips and eyes, “Oh okay.”
You strapped on the ice skates that the Howard family bought you for your 10th birthday. A gift you rarely used. But was still grateful for nevertheless.
Back before your Cassie started getting into ice skating your family was big about hockey. So you knew the in’s and out’s of ice skating, but you weren’t good at doing cool tricks.
“Y/N, you’re a natural!” Cassie says as you start skating towards her.
And it’s like she jinxed you or something because you started slipping. Flailing your hands up in the air. But she caught you and the two of you just stared at each other smiling coyly.
Her lips were inches away from yours. But her dad cleared her throat, looking at the two of you with a small smirk on his face.
Y/N and Cassie were inseparable, nothing seemed to ever get in between them. Lexi always gave Y/N looks and have conversations where she tried to make her think that it was something more than just a friendship, but she was easy to laugh off or ignore.
Lexi thought of Y/N as a second sister growing up together and having Y/N be over all the time. So when she saw the way Y/N looked at her older sister she couldn’t help but want to protect her.
She didn’t want you to get hurt, but how could Cassie ever hurt Y/N?
Y/N loved Cassie more than a friend. There was never a specific moment when Y/N found out she liked Cassie. It was everything about her, all of the moments leading up to since they were young kids.
Much to her disappoint, Cassie’s underlying daddy issues made her attached to boys in more ways than anyone could ever possibly. She fell in love too fast and dare I say it, was too naive.
Cassie wanted to be loved and never wanted to be alone. She wanted all the boys no matter how stupid, sweet, or mean they were. And that led to many nights of crying in Y/N’s arms about some boy who leaked her nudes or made a sex tape or broke her heart.
“Y/N?” she whispers over the phone, her voice already cracking.
You shot up from laying down on your bed and instantly woke up at the sound of your first love crying, “Hey is everything okay?”
“No. I can’t. Someone made a sex tape of me and leaked it and I just really need you.” she whispers, trying to get all of the words out.
“I’ll be there in five.”
Luckily for the two of you, you didn't live far. And before you knew it you were climbing in her bedroom window.
She instantly pulled you into a hug and you wrapped your arms around her waist. Placing a hand on the back of her head to pull her close. You started rubbing the back of her head, threading your fingers through her hair.
“It’s gonna be okay.” I whisper, “I’m here now. You’re gonna be okay.”
Y/N always protected Cassie. Ever since the first pictures of her nudes were leaked she was there to let her cry. Her first sex tape was leaked, Y/N was there. A boy broke her heart, Y/N was there to pick up the pieces to put her back together.
Y/N hoped that one day she wouldn’t feel this way anymore. Or one day Cassie would realize that she was there all along. But it never happened. And it seemed like it would never happen when Cassie started dating McKay.
Y/N insisted she wasn’t jealous, but she also insisted she wasn’t jealous about all of Cassie’s suitors.
“McKay is a good guy Y/N!” Cassie yells.
The two of you were having yet another argument. And you weren’t angry at her or at McKay, you were just tired. So fucking tired.
“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Cassie asked, “This is your third snide comment this week about McKay this week and it’s only 10 am on a Monday!”
“I’m sorry for being bitter. I’m just tired.” you whisper.
Lexi gave you a sympathetic smile and look. And you just smiled back softly.
See you weren’t jealous. That would involve anger and you weren’t angry. You didn’t hate McKay.
Sure, there were thing that he did that was questionable at best, but he was wasn’t the worst out of all of Cassie’s boyfriends.
Even though your happiness was slowly dwindling away each time you saw them at a party. Or each time she canceled plans to go hang out with him instead of you. Or each time you saw them kiss.
Even though all of it was fading away in you. She didn’t deserve to lose anything when she was so happy. So you tried to stay the same for her and not act any differently.
Lexi had been a good friend to Y/N and did her best to try and pull her out of it. The annual carnival was coming up and it used to be a tradition for the three girls to go together, but Cassie was busy with McKay...again.
The two of you ran into McKay on the way to the Ferris Wheel. Much to both of your surprise you didn’t find Cassie next to him, “Where’s Cassie?” Lexi asked.
“Oh I don’t know we called it a night a couple hours ago.” he said with a shrug before going back to Nate and Mr. Jacobs.
Both of you looked at each other and immediately knew something was up. Agreeing to split up both of you searched the carnival in chance to find her.
That’s when you saw her going around the carrousel with Daniel. She was grinding against the pole of the horse. And Daniel looked like he was getting turned on by it.
But there was something about her that was off. She looked high. You were gonna leave, but you decided to wait for the ride to stop. Before ultimately taking her home, you didn’t want some asshole like Daniel to take advantage of her in the state she was in.
As soon as the ride stopped you hopped the fence that separated the line to get to her. Despite all the yelling from the person who controls the ride you made your way to Cassie.
“Hey Cassie. How about we get you out of here, okay?” you ask.
“Y/N! I didn’t know you were here.” she slurs and you nod smiling.
“I’m right here.” you whisper to her, unbuckling her seatbelt and lifting her off.
Daniel scoffed, “What the fuck Y/L/N?! We were in the middle of something!” he yelled annoyed.
“Not anymore.” you reply.
You guided her towards the exit, but saw that she was stumbling and it was hard for her to walk. So you did what you thought was best and picked her up bridal style.
Cassie wrapped her arms around your neck and nestled into your chest, “Can you believe McKay said to people we weren’t dating? We were just chilling. He literally told me that he loved me yesterday.” she says angrily.
“I’m sorry love. You don’t deserve that.” you whisper back as you saw Lexi, Jules, and Rue running towards the two of you.
Lexi looked at her sister frantically, “Is she okay? Do you need help? I can get her for you.
“Lex take a breath,” you whisper and she nods taking a deep breath, “She’s okay, she just looks a little high off of something. But I got her.”
Lexi nods and we all get into Cassie’s car. Jules and Rue decided to stay at the carnival a little longer, but we thought it was best if we got her home.
Cassie passed out across your lap as you just ran your fingers through her hair. Staring at the beautiful girl in front of you.
“I wish she could see that you were always there for her. She needs someone like you in her life.” Lex whispers looking at you through the rearview mirror.
But the thing is Cassie never noticed. As much as she would hate to agree with me, she took Y/N for granted most of the time. She just assumed that her best friend since basically birth would always be there for her.
She learned that the hard way.
You were more tired than usual as you sat on the couch of McKay’s house. You were at one of his infamous parties seated next to Lexi, Rue, and Jules.
Lexi and Rue begged you to come and you agreed without hesitation. But then you realized that you would have to see them dancing close to one another, kissing, and just being with each other.
The other three girls proceeded in conversation, but you were too tired to contribute. So despite all of the loud music and drunk people, you laid your head on Lexi’s shoulder trying your hardest to just shut everything out for a few minutes.
And you were about to shut everything out when you heard your name being slurred, “Y/N, what’s wrong?”
You opened your eyes a little, not wanting to leave the comfortable spot you found on Lexi’s shoulder.
“It’s nothing, Cassie, really. I just have a headache.” you whisper, trying your best to smile at her.
“Why are you lying to me?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
Of course she knew when you were lying,
“Just let it go, please.” you pleaded with her.
You didn’t want all of this to come out now. Not when she was tipsy. Not when all of your friends and a bunch of random strangers were around to hear.
“No Y/N! I can’t! It’s like you’ve been falling into this pit of sadness for I don’t even know how many months now! I just want to know what happened. You’re supposed to trust me. I trust you. So why can’t you trust me?” she whispered sadly.
“3 months.” I whisper simply.
“What?” she asks.
And it was all coming out right now. Despite all your wishes and prayers to not to.
“I’ve been falling into a pit of sadness for three months. Ever since you started falling for McKay.” you whisper and it looks like the wheels are turning in her head, “I can’t trust you because I’m in love with you!”
You finally yell out, letting all the feelings that you’ve had pent up to finally come out. Lexi squeezed your hand lightly to let you know that she’ll be right here.
“What?” Cassie asks, her mouth open agape as she just stared.
“I always have been! And now it’s too late. I’m not angry with you and I don’t hate McKay. I’m just tired. I’m tired of feeling like I’m just there now when everything goes wrong in your life. When you and McKay fight or when you need someone to pick you up when you’re drunk. I’ve always been there for you and I’m tired of it not being enough.” and with that you got up and you left.
She didn’t try chasing after you. No one did. They all knew you needed your time and your space to regroup.
And just like that the non-related conjoined twins were separated. Neither of them talked or hung out. The only time they would see each other is passing in the hallway exchanging small smiles.
It was weird for the both of them. No small study sessions or move nights. Just them alone.
Cassie didn’t like not having Y/N there, but every time Y/N tried talking to her she would just avoid her.
During the time Y/N was gone she realized that Y/N was right. Lexi gave her a stern talking to. Lexi’s talk was basically her singing that one Taylor Swift song.
You know the one that goes like...
Dreaming about the day where you wake up and find that what you’re looking for has been here the whole time. Then something about short skirts and t-shirts, I don’t fucking know.
And that’s when Cassie knew. Cassie Howard was in love with Y/N Y/L/N.
Then the infamous night happened, where everything came pouring out...literally. It was raining outside.
Your phone buzzed with a text and your heart stopped at the name that popped up onto your phone.
With a text that read meet me outside. You looked outside your window and saw the raindrops that stained your window pane. And made out the small figure that is the blonde girl.
You grabbed a hoodie from your closet before running downstairs and to the middle of the street.
“Cassie! What are you doing? It is pouring!” you yell the hood covering your head.
You stepped closer to her throwing the hoodie you grabbed from your closet over her head. She was standing there wearing nothing, but a long sleeve shirt and jeans.
“You still care about me?” she asks barely above a whisper voice.
You let out a sigh, “Just because we stopped talking doesn’t mean I stopped caring.”
Out of nowhere Cassie pulled you closer to her by the waist placing her lips on yours. You didn’t kiss back at first, but it didn’t take you long to kiss her back. Your two lips moving in perfect motion, you only pulled away when you felt like you were gonna pass out.
“I love you. I always have and I’m sorry I took you for granted. And I’m sorry I didn’t see that you were right in front of me all along. I love you. I am so sorry-” she was about to go on, but you cut her off with a quicker kiss.
She smiles into the kiss before pulling away, “I love you so much, but this was very dramatic.” you whisper with a smile that matched Cassie’s.
She giggled lightly before pecking your nose.
#cassie howard#cassie howard imagine#cassie howard imagines#cassie howard x reader#cassie howard x fem reader
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Fri 28 May ‘21
Zayn’s rap EP??? Dropped yesterday???!? “Breaking my silence” says Zayn on Yellow Metal- Cathartic (Zayn is Yellow Metal here) and he DOES in 24 minutes of political, personal, complex and lyrically dense rap zoems! It was leaked/dropped whatever you wanna call it by being posted to Z’s cousin’s account (like the cover the other day); but clearly Zayn is behind these drops and that’s what matters, he is releasing this stuff in a way that will get to the fans but not inspire the media uproar (or contract issues) that posting to his own accounts would. As he says “don’t say I can’t communicate, you know I conversate with you in several different ways”, plus “I’ve had enough of being my own enemy, come a long way since 17, I have a few things to say when I get up on a microphone, I didn’t give up on fame I need this time like therapy it’s just to keep me sane… and to be honest it’s offensive, offensive to my still open wounds, trying to ask me questions they know they don’t have I ever replied, I prefer to sit down be online and respond to fanart,” I LOVE THAT. And the political content?! “What a family needs, and the planet bleeds, the damaged trees, it's never leaving to a real sense so FUCK THE FEDS” (or fuck the fence, not clear, either way, YES ZAYN!), “the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding by what they put in writing we should be used to it by now say whatever for the vote and then just chose another route say they’ll never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown” and “been facing the racists back when I was a kid...kicked me out of the schools, they had a problem with me and the kids that would call me paki still sit in the classroom chilling, and now that I’m older I see they treat us different, got me thinking I was the problem cuz they never dealt with those issues, 20 years later I’m still in the same boat, tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat, came to tell you what I stand for, man I think this shit’s a joke. How can I be civil, when they got me by the throat, ‘Boy your skin is so light’, ok motherfucker take my name up on a flight, try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white, my name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.” HELL YEAH ZAYN. PLUS: “never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a benadryl,” not gonna lie I LOVE to see this GOOD good good, "just became a dad so now I���m taking all the checks" HA yes get it, "trying to be a better person than the world deserves to see," and, “with a cigarette, sun coming up, write my thoughts on the internet, feeling deep, I'm just bored with the silhouette, get fucked up for the thrill of it,” “I’m just here for the rap then I’m leaving.” AND SO MUCH MORE all in Zayn’s excellent voice and accent, a GIFT that’ll take much more than a day to really unpack and appreciate!
And happy 28th, Louis is writing music! Looks like he is working with producer team Rick Parkhouse and George Tizzard in London (they call themselves Red Triangle Productions and put out music as SuperHi)- they posted a studio picture and tagged Louis. He’s just visible in the booth, singing. Also present- writer/ musician, Paul Whalley and songwriter Robert Harvey (The Music, The Streets) who were both posted and tagged Louis in as well. Louis followed Harvey. Hell yeah, what a line up! Not only that, Jamie Hartman answered a ProjectKMM participant’s question about other songs with Louis-- are they still working on new stuff? He says “I’m sure Louis has been working on new songs with lots of people!” [as we see, yes] “But yes we have done some too- who knows what will make the next album but he’s a top man and I would always write and hang w LT.”
Harry won Best Lyrics for Adore You at the iHeart Awards and Best Cover Song for Juice but failed to take the Artist of the Year or Song of the Year Categories, but more exciting than that- he’s listed as the Director of a new cosmetics and perfume company!!! People have been speculated about him doing something with Gucci Beauty for a long time now (he’s been noted to use their cosmetics, and definitely models their nail polish), and he has of course done perfume ads for them- there’s speculation that this could be for something with them, or it could just be a new thing of his very own. Well the Harry Styles palette would be a damn hit and we all know it, bring it on!
Anne Marie’s Big Weekend performance aired today and yes! She did Our Song with Niall! It’s the performance they recorded last week or so that we saw the pics from, yay first time getting to see them play it, but it was very quickly followed by the next time as their Jonathan Ross show performance also aired! And in case you’re sad about Niall’s previous promo buddies being replaced, there’s no need for that, he’s only adding to the pack; he tweeted Julia Michaels just today, “love ya hules” AWWW. He posted a bunch of cute OS video bts pics too, followed Oprah Winfrey and said he’d like to go to space and that he “would have liked to have been” a godfather to a 1D boy’s baby but “maybe the next one.”
Meanwhile Liam is looking at the fanart submissions he asked for- he retweeted a terrific drawing of himself laughing and said “this is amazing!” and liked a couple of other art posts. Feels like it’s about time for a monthly Liam catch up video, perhaps? Something else to look forward to!
#zayn#yellow metal#louis tomlinson#harry styles#femme harry rise!!#liam payne#anne marie#28 may 21#ZAYNN!!!! from least likely to spill the dirt to just DOING IT just like that#LOVE HIM#appreciate him and his relationship with the fans so much
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