#gotta love a good cell signaling unit

[babygorewhore]

Let me In

After being held hostage, you’re rescued by Ghost. But the trauma of being the only survivor has made you unable to lean on anyone for comfort. Despite his efforts.

So this is my first ghost fic so I apologize for anything that’s OOC and inaccurate. This is angst and hurt comfort with smut! Please be kind!!

Warnings! Mentions of violence and death! Injury! Survivors guilt! Reader is lowkey kinda toxic! Arguing! Mentions of troubled relationships with family members. Oral! Fem recieving! Unprotected sex! Not proofread! Thank you to @xxhellfirebunnyxx for beta reading!!

You were rescued weeks ago. You had been kidnapped while going home, tortured for information on the location of a man you didn’t even know. And even if you did, you would have still remained silent. Remained cold. You were known for that. Known for your brash, intimidating and icy existence. As a child, you had learned long ago it was better to stay calm. Stay quiet if you want to survive. Never show your emotions.

You used to be expressive. Emotional. But it resulted in being called a cry baby. Dramatic. Bullied throughout school and then during training as a younger girl. Your parents constantly criticize you. So finally.

You shut it off.

When you were captured, you had been hit on the back of the head with a gun and then thrown into a cell with hostages an hour later after being unconscious. You had been assaulted. You knew by the bloody state of your legs and pants torn off. Everything hurt.

You were a good person. Strong and Steady. But all of that went away when they tortured you for three days with the group they’d taken. Beating you. With their fists. Weapons. And finally before you were rescued, they sliced at your skin with a knife. Leaving you scarred.

You were the only survivor when a military unit rescued you.

You were still being cared for medically. Still working out the details of your future. Your internal injuries are strong enough to leave you weak and almost helpless. But you pushed through. You slept a lot. Trying to recover. But it was a slow process.

Worst of all, you felt extremely guilty that you were the only one who made it. Whenever you slept, you had nightmares of the screaming. The wails of those being harmed.

You didn’t expect one of the men who rescued you to be a masked man.

He went by Ghost. He was probably around five or more years older. He checked on you. Almost everyday. But your interactions were extremely short. Polite.

You weren’t home. It wasn’t safe to leave from how hurt you were. And you missed home. You missed your own bed. You missed all your stuffed animals. It hurts that you were stuck here in an unfamiliar place.

A knock signaled you someone was at your door.

“Come in.”

Ghost walked in. His large size made him almost duck underneath the door and he carried a tray of food. “You Missed dinner.” He said simply and he set it down on the small table in the corner.

“I’m not hungry. Not really. But thank you.” You kept it short and you folded your arms.

Ghost sighed but didn’t leave. He stayed still whenever you saw him. It almost looked like he wasn’t breathing sometimes. “How’s your leg?” He cleared his throat and glanced down with his dark eyes. His mask didn’t disguise the frown that was settling on his face as he took in your dark circles. The fading bruises on your face.

“It’s still sore but I can walk a little bit. I limp.” You answer quietly. It was so difficult to say those words. You loved being able to move. Run. Dance. And now you were facing the possibility that you couldn’t. Not the same as before.

“I can always help you. When I’m here. All you gotta do is ask.” His deep voice was completely serious. He wanted to help you? He barely knew you.

“Thanks. I appreciate the offer.” You responded dryly.

Ghost shifted on his feet. He looked…awkward. “Well…I’ll let you rest. But I hopefully see you out of your room tomorrow. Being locked away in here isn’t going to help.”

You wanted to show annoyance at his tone but you kept it cool. “I’m tired. It’s hard to walk. I’d rather just stay here for now.”

Ghost nodded. “I’ll uh-leave you to it.”

He closed the door and you slowly exhaled.

You were glad to be alone. You wanted to think. Remember those who had fallen.

You dreamed about it. You dreamed about being sliced like a piece of meat. You woke up, almost screaming before you remembered you were out. The only one out.

It happened all hours of the night. You’d sleep maybe an hour before waking in a cold sweat. You shed a few tears before grabbing your cane and standing. You limped out of your room. Your pajama pants are too big, given that they were borrowed by one of the men who donated his clothes to you. Your socks met the cold floor as you walked in the kitchen.

You thought it would be empty, no one was sitting in the scattered chairs and you smelled cigarettes. Your nostrils flared at the smell and you sighed. It wasn’t much different. Being isolated in your room was plaguing your mind but this room was at least bigger.

That’s when you saw Ghost leaning against the counter in the dark. You shrieked and immediately turned on the light.

He quickly held up his hands. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Ghost's Voice was thick with regret at his stillness and you set down the hand that was on your chest.

“It’s okay. I should have looked.” You nodded as you started to pull out one of the chairs.

“Here, let me.”

“No. I got it.” You rejected his offer and sat. The cool seat sends chills up your spine. Ghost exhales before clearing his throat.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks and you nod. “Me either. I don’t sleep most nights.” The conversation felt forced. And you didn’t want his pity.

“Yeah. It’s tough.” You toyed with your sleeves at the end of your hands before wincing at the spasm that sent up your ribs. Your breathing panted as you tried to power through it

“Shit. Wait, I’ll get you something.”

“No. It’s okay.” You start to say before groaning as a deep ache throbbed. You forgot your pain killers but you hated the idea of Ghost getting you anything.

He didn’t listen as he left and went to the medic. You hated the fuss as he came back with a handful of medication and a glass of water.

You tried to reach forward but the stretch was too difficult so Ghost warily held the pills to your lips. You opened your mouth and accepted the water that traveled down your throat. A shuddered breath came and ghost reached forward again.

“Here. Let me carry you, this chair isn’t comfortable.”

“No. I’ll be fine. I don’t need help.” You quipped at him and his hand faltered. “I just need a second.” Your tone caused his eyes to harden but he didn’t argue. A few minutes went by and the pain subsided enough so you could breathe properly and you didn’t notice Ghost had made two cups of tea. You almost groaned at his gesture but you kept silent. Your fingers wrapped around the handle.

“Thank you.” You offered and Ghost took a seat in front of you.

“You’re welcome.” Ghost hesitated before he stared into your eyes. “You need to let someone help you. You could hurt yourself even worse by doing it all alone.”

“I don’t need help. I need to practice doing it myself.” You replied and he sighed.

“Is your room comfortable? I know you still don’t have any of your own clothes and I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s fine.” You responded sharply. You were growing exhausted from his endless attempts at conversation. And he seemed to get the hint as he quieted.

You both sat there for a while as you sipped your warm tea. You titled your head. “This is really good. I’m more of a coffee girl.”

Ghost grunted. “Coffee is poison. Tea at least serves a purpose.”

Your lips quirk into a small smirk. “It keeps me human.”

His eyebrow raised. “Let me guess. You don’t drink much water, either.” You glanced down at the half empty glass. “Women.” His tone had a hint of playfulness to it.

“Men.” You marched his inflection and you looked down at your palms. They were scarred. Deeply from knife wounds.

“I have to be honest with you,” he said your name with a bone chilling seriousness. “I’m concerned. You never allow anyone to help you. You don’t leave your room. And I understand that. But if you don’t allow anyone in-“

“What? What will happen?” You said with a icy voice. “It’s not your problem.”

His jaw clenched but he didn’t answer back.

Two days passed and you still hadn’t made any progress with your walk as you hobbled in your room without your cane.

You hated this. You hated this so much as your mind raced with thoughts of Ghost spending time with you the other night. You had sat in silence after his offer of concern that you rebuffed. You didn’t know why he was so concerned with you. It wasn’t the first time he had rescued someone. You weren’t sure why he wanted to stay with you. Your thoughts drove you to stumble, falling over on your back as your head smacked against the floor.

You grunted painfully as you saw stars. Your door burst open.

“Fucking hell!” A deep voice bellowed. You felt arms scoop you up and pull you against a hard chest. “We’re going to medical.” It was Ghost. You had no idea how he could even know what happened.

“Were you outside my door?” You said shocked as your head throbbed. He carried you but you started trying to remove yourself from his grip. “Put me down.” You commanded.

“The hell I will,” He said matter of fact. “You could have a concussion.”

“And I’ll deal with it.” You told him and he didn’t answer back.

You were examined and released back to your room an hour later. The nurse told you-well ordered you to use your cane at all times. Ghost was in your room now, trying to clean up the spilled mess on your floor where you fell.

“I can get it myself.” You said casually and he stood up straight.

“That’s it. That’s fucking it. What is it? Why are you acting like this?” His voice raised. “Why are you acting like some sort of drone? Do you understand what happened to you?”

His volume surprised you but your eyes hardened. “Yes. I was there.”

That seemed to make him visibly angrier. His black clothes hug his muscles and his neck veins start to show. “You were kidnapped! Hurt! Fucking hell you have to walk with a god damn. You shouldn’t be walking at all.”

“And?” You said, bored. You went to move past him but he stepped in your way.

“No. I’m not going to stand by and watch you hurt yourself like this. You need someone to help you. I keep trying and you’re not accepting it. You’re not sleeping. You won’t eat. Drink. Or listen to anyone. It’s not right.”

“I don’t see how it’s your issue, Ghost.” He started trembling with rage and he stepped forward. Nearly in your face.

“It’s my issue because I’m worried sick. Seeing you in that pit gutted me. Seeing all those people dead-the good men we lost trying to rescue all of you-tortures me. And you wont show any emotion about it. Don't you have any sort of feelings about what happened? Or are you as cold as you act?”

“Showing how I feel about it isn’t going to change what happened.” A spark lights in your chest of anger. How dare he speak to you this way? How dare he make this about him?

“Then prove it. Prove that you even care.”

“You think I don’t care about what happened?” You said, shocked at his implication. “Just because I’m not sitting here crying about it?”

“You’re not just not crying. You’re withering away!” He shouts. Your jaw clenches. “You could die if you don’t let me help you.”

“I don’t care if I do!” You yell back. “Maybe I should have!”

“Don’t you fucking dare say that!” His tone made you snap. “Don’t throw away your life because you felt guilty. Guilty that everyone else didn’t make it. It’s not worth it and they would want you to live and be happy. You can’t just throw away everything because of them. I know how hard it is to be the last man standing but you’ve got to try.” The more he spoke. The more his voice softened and your hackles lowered. “You. Deserved. Better.”

You were surprised at his vulnerability. His way of reaching your heart. And you saw his point.

“I’m sorry.”

Ghosts' hands reach out to gently rest on your shoulder. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. I just want you to listen. You can trust me.”

You swallow.

“I wish I could.”

Your statement must have cut through him like a knife. But you knew it was better to push him away. He didn’t need to deal with your damage. Your fractured mind.

Without another word, he stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut. Causing you to flinch. But your shoulders were squared. It was for the best. He needed to leave you alone. Let you handle this. Let you heal by yourself.

Another week went by. More days of you isolating yourself. You were starting to become comfortable. Comfortable sitting in silence. Comfort in being alone where no one could ever hurt you again or remind you of what happened. Your clothes were starting to loosen. You were losing your taste. And you had a deadline of when you were hopefully going home.

Three more weeks until you were healed enough to stop seeing the nurse everyday. Where a doctor at home could look after you.

You felt a mixture of emotions. Relief you could go home and sleep in your apartment soon but a dull ache where joy used to reside.

You thought about those nights more and more. Lost in memories of the man hurting you. The weeping of the other hostages begging to be let go for their families. Their children. Your own pleading words ignored by the sadistic intentions of the captor.

It was getting more difficult to make the few trips out of your bedroom. You didn’t want to look anyone in the eye. How would you ever face the victims' remaining family? How would you ever provide comfort? It was too late for them. But not for you.

It killed you. As your brain relentlessly reminded you of your survival.

The nurses explained it was survival guilt. A way your mind tried to cope with a life threatening event when you were the only one who made it. Maybe you shouldn’t have. It would have been fair. You sat in the kitchen again. Past three in the morning with a cup of coffee as you pondered things you needed to do when you arrived home. How were you supposed to speak to your friends? Your parents? Everyone probably thought you were dead.

“That’s why you don’t sleep.” You jumped at the familiar accented voice and turned to see Ghost walking to the table, his loose sweatpants and black t-shirt against his body while he wore a pair of sneakers. “You’re still drinking poison.” He said gruffly as he took a seat across from you.

“I guess so.” Your reply was dry as you took another sip. The cream and sugar down your throat sends a warm, tingly feeling in your body.

“That’s my shirt.” Ghost said, nodding his head down. “I gave it to the nurses a few days ago. FIgured it would be warmer than Soaps.” The nickname makes you chuckle.

“I thought so. No one else would wear all black. A man after my heart.” You laced your fingers together and set them on the metal.

He looked at you curiously. “All black?”

“Yeah. Color doesn’t really suit me. Does that surprise you?” He shook his head. Slowly and he straightened his shoulders.

“Heard you were going home soon. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You weren’t sure where this conversation was going. The last one went so horribly and you didn’t expect him to speak to you again. “Not really ready to face anyone.”

“Do you miss your family?” The question struck a chord inside you and you exhaled heavily. “I shouldn’t have asked you.” He corrected himself but you shook your head.

“It’s okay. I do miss them. But it’s complicated. I know how they’re going to be when i get back and im not looking forward to it.” THe information flooded through you easier than you expected.”My father and I have a complicated relationship.”

Ghost took in the words and leaned back in his seat. His legs are separating. You took a moment to subtly admire him. Even under the mask, you knew he’d be handsome. You knew he had a strong face, dark eyes and his firm brows that stuck out whenever his mask moved. His large body. Chiseled with muscle and tattoos. He wasn’t unkind to look at.

“I can understand that.” His short, gruff answer told you that must have been an understatement. “Any friends?”

“Just a few.”

“Sometimes that’s more than enough. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.” He offered and you looked down at the shiny surface underneath you.

“Ghost, why are you speaking to me? Especially with how our last conversation went.” You asked him bluntly and he looked at you with a glint of surprise.

“I went for a workout. Saw you were in here. Nothing complex. I know better than to push you.” His words gave you the reality check that you’d hurt him but he was still here. Offering you company. You didn’t know his duties. You didn’t know how this worked. You weren’t even sure how the rankings worked. You never left the four walls in your room.

“I see. Pretty late for a workout.” Ghost grunts.

“Pretty late for a cup of coffee. I’m tempted to snatch it out of your hands.” You weren’t sure, but you could have sworn he almost sounded…playful? Amused?

The corner of your mouth curled and you shrugged. “I’m not sure you could. With those scrawny arms and all.” Ghost huffed out a short laugh.

“I could throw you over my shoulder with one hand, darlin. Don’t test your luck.” Darling. You’d never been called that seriously before and your breath hitched. He either pretended he didn’t notice or he genuinely didn’t. “Besides. Sure you could use some strength.”

“You’re probably right.” You chuckled and held your mug tighter. You needed to warm it but getting up would reveal your limp and you didn’t want to give him another reason to criticize your choices. You shouldn’t have talked so much. He was probably getting bored with you.

“Care for something to eat?” Ghost stood and motioned. “I can make you something.” You shook your head, respectfully declining. But then your stomach growled. You didn’t even feel hungry so the noise surprised you.

“I think I have my answer.”

Ghost made you something simple. Eggs and toast but as you ate, you found yourself finishing the entire plate and your belly wasn’t in pain anymore. “Here,” Ghost said, bringing your attention back to him. He slid his plate over that still had a piece of bread a few minutes later. “You can have the rest.”

You normally would refuse but you accepted with a smile. “Thank you.” You ate it and you laughed. “This reminds me of Sunday mornings with my parents when I was younger. We used to make this all the time because I was such a picky eater. My dad wanted to kill me sometimes.” Your eyes dazed as you remember the few peaceful times in your childhood.

“I bet. Someone who lives off of coffee must not have a wide range.” His playful, low tone came back and you glanced up at him. His elbows were on the metal table. His biceps flexing as he moved. “Do you want any more?”

You quickly shook your head and you felt uncomfortable with being more expressive and you stood wobbly. “I should get going.” Ghost looked like he wanted to protest but he seemed to shift directions as he stood too. His height loomed over you until he slouched.

“Wait. Let me walk you to your room.”

“No. It’s okay.” You denied and settled your weight on your injured legs. “I’ve got it.”

“No you don’t. But if you insist on still being stubborn,” Ghost growled. “Why can’t I at least walk you?”

“Because I don’t need a babysitter.” You replied and turned.

“Fine. But I don’t have to listen.” Ghost swept you up in his arms, bridal style and you shrieked. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He carried you to your room, ignoring the glances from other soldiers as he opened the door and he sets you down on your bed.

“I didn’t need-“

“Yeah! You didn’t need help! I’ve heard it. And I decided not to listen.” Ghost was growing agitated but you ignored him.

“Thank you. But next time, please let me do it.”

“I don’t understand.” Ghost extends his arms. “I don’t understand why you’re so opposed to me helping you.”

“And I don’t understand why you keep trying!” You say to him, voice still calm.

“Because I care about you. I care about how you’re doing.” Ghost grits out. “I want you to be okay. Especially with what you’ve been through.”

“I’m fine. I’m healing.” Your response seems to send him over the edge.

“Are you even human? Do you even mourn? Or are you too busy trying to be some robot?”

The word mourn causes you to reach up and slap him across the face. His head turns and he lets out a pained grunt. You step closer, your cane falling to the ground. “You can say whatever you want about me. But don’t ever question my mourning. I don’t even want to be here because I don’t think I deserve it more than them.”

Ghost’s eyes held an emotion that you couldn’t place. You weren’t sure if it was anger. Disappointment. Sadness. But then they drifted to your lips and you couldn’t find it in yourself to move. One because your leg hurt and second his gaze was pinning you in place.

“You do deserve it.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “You deserve to be here.” Ghost says your name in an almost pleading voice. “Please, let someone be there for you.”

You don’t move away for a second, feeling his breath on your skin before you take a step back. “I can’t do that.”

Ghosts eyes close and you sit down on the bed. Your thigh begins to throb. “Please go. I’m asking you to leave.” But he didn’t listen.

Instead, lowered himself to his knees and stared into your eyes. Your breath halted and your gaze softened. A fear iced inside you as he started to lean in. Towards your lips. And you couldn’t find it in yourself to move away. Something in you cracked. A dam broke. His kindness. His efforts. His way of trying to help you and your constant rejection. It wasn’t fair of you.

An overwhelming ache seized in your chest and your eyes began tearing up. You doubled over, knocking onto him as a loud wet sob escaped your throat and you began shaking. “Oh god,” You started wailing and Ghost's strong arms crushed you to him. His hard muscular body gave you a steady place to fall as you wept.

“It’s not your fault.” He said against your ear. Which made you cry harder. You wanted to believe him. You were so tired of pulling away.

“I just don’t know how to speak. I’ve been told my whole life I’m too much.”

“You’re not.” His arms tightened around you. It honestly hurt but you welcomed the pressure and you felt his lips against your head. Pressing soft kisses to your hair.

The feeling gave you chills and your overwhelming sorrow began to lessen. The thoughts of death. Your own dark ideas eased. They weren’t gone. But his embrace distracted you. He pulled back but kept his arms around your back. “You can call me Simon. My real name, love.” The nickname sent a chill up your spine and in the heat of the moment, his dark gaze on your face underneath his mask.

With one hand moving up your torso, Ghosts fingers pulled up his mask, revealing his beautiful face. It took you aback. His jawline was strong and sharp. His nose fit the proportions of his face and his lips were naturally turned down. His tongue darted out to swipe over his teeth. You could tell that he was uncomfortable. So your palms cupped his cheeks and your thumbs gently stroked his skin.

“You’re beautiful…” you whispered. And he laughed quietly.

“Thank you, darling. I don’t do this. But I want you to see me. Just like I see you.”

Without thinking, you closed the gap between you and pressed your lips to his. Your kiss was gentle against his slightly dry mouth and he inhaled. Still as a statue and you wondered if you were making a mistake but then he returned the gesture with a force. His mouth parted and he moaned against your mouth. Your hands gripped his shirt as he deepened the kiss with his tongue, exploring the crevices of your mouth before tangling the sticky muscle against yours.

His hands were pawing at your body with a strength and dominance you’d never experienced. You’d kissed people before but it wasn’t like this. Ghost’s motions weren’t clumsy but he wasn’t gentle. He lifted himself and pushed you on your back without breaking the kiss and your stomach fluttered as he tore himself away and peppered wet kisses along your jaw, down to your neck and he grazed your collarbones with his teeth. You swallowed and closed your eyes.

“This alright?” He paused and you nodded. “No. Say it. Say it or I’ll stop.”

“No, don’t stop. Please. Please don’t stop, Simon.” You pleaded and he returned with his mouth dragging along your flesh. Goosebumps raised and your leg, the good one, wrapped around his waist as he straddled you. His thick thighs and wide torso were a little difficult to hold as he held his weight with one arm and tried not to crush you. You tugged him closer, the heel of your foot pressed against his lower back, and your fingers buried themselves in his hair.

“Fucking hell,” he growled and pulled your shirt up to your tits. Ghost looked at the faint scars and fading bruises and his lips trailed in open mouth kisses along them. Your back arched and you dug your nails into his clothed shoulders as you encouraged him to remove his shirt.

When he did, you gasped at his body. His muscular form was refined and broad. Perfect. His tattoos were wrapped around his skin in a decorative story. Your fingertips traced along them and he captured your hand. “Mmm, you’re being such a good girl. Listening and responding to me. I bet you’re wet, hmm? Just from me kissing this pretty skin.”

His words made your core tighten as he roughly removed your leggings and you quickly covered your bandages. He moved your hand away, “don’t hide from me, love. Want all of you…” he whispered and his lips lowered to kiss your hips. You whimpered at the sensation and bucked your pelvis and he let out a low chuckle. “Patience, princess. I can’t spoil you too much.” He teased and hooked his fingers along the bands of your panties and pulled them down, the center sticky with arousal. “Such a pretty little cunt, love.” He muttered under his breath as he bent his head forward and hovered his mouth above. You tried to bring him forward, desperate to relieve the pent up tension you held from denying him.

“Simon, please,” You begged. “Make it go away, just for a little while. Please taste me.” You spoke in a prayer and he groaned. Unable to deny you any longer as he slid down further and your leg went around his shoulder as he gently held your other leg down. His tongue was flat and wide as he swirled it around your clit, taking his time to savor your slick and he worked his way down to your entrance. He dipped his tongue inside, filling you up and you bit your lip to quiet the sounds you wanted to make. He must have sensed it because he shook his head, his small amount of facial hair tickling your skin.

“Mm, let me hear those sounds, pretty girl. I want to hear how good I make you feel.” You obeyed him by allowing yourself to shudder out a breathy whimper as he lapped at your pussy, licking you like a melting ice cream cone and possessively kept you still. He devoured you and relentlessly pressed harder, leaving no room for questioning who you belonged to in this moment. Your hand flew to his neck, cupping the back of it before settling around his throat. He liked that. A lot. Ghost’s teeth were barely against your cunt as your stomach was coiling inside and flexing from build up. “Oh, fuck.” You managed and turned your head to the side. “Oh god,”

“No, no, no, look at me.” he ordered and lifted himself up. You whined from the absence of his touch before he unbuckled his belt and pried off his form fitting pants. His boxers clung to his body. Looking painted on as his cock twitched against the material. You could see how big he was and you wondered for a second if it would fit. “Aw, don’t look so nervous, precious. I’ll make sure that pussy takes me without trouble.” After that, he pulled down his underwear and it slapped against his thigh. The angry purple, leaking tip hung heavily as he crawled back on top of you. “I’m going to make you forget all that shit. You’re mine right now. Don’t fucking forget that, baby girl.” He said authoritatively and you mewled as his command.

He rolled his dick against your glistening cunt, it kept hitting your center and he cupped it, further focusing on your swollen bud. “I have to show that clit some love. I know you’re ready for it,” He cooed as you desperately kept saying his name. You felt like you were leaking like a faucet. Finally, taking you out of your misery, he entered his tip inside you, the stretch immediate as you grunted. THe pain disappeared after a second and you welcomed him. Ghost crashed his lips against yours in a bruising, hungry kiss and he bites your lower lip and tugs on it.

“Simon,” You slurred as he sank deeper, halfway in.

“That's it, love. You can take it. You’re such a good girl.” He was almost unable to speak against your mouth as he thrusted, sinking into the hilt and his balls slapped against you. His thumb shoved against you and circled your clit. “Clenching around me, you needed this didn’t you? Needed my cock to keep you sane.” His possessive words made you nearly scream as he jolted you with thrusts, making the headboard slam against the wall with brute force. You knew others could hear outside but you couldn’t care less. Your mind was fuzzy as your pussy took him without question.

His hand was balanced above you, and your forehead was against his as spit connected between you but it wasn’t gross like other men you’ve fucked. Ghost was thoroughly rutting inside you, hitting every single spot you needed as you were getting closer, you were unable to keep your eyes on him. He wasn’t exactly kissing you but his mouth was on your neck. His canines sharply biting down and you cried out. It tipped you over the edge and you creamed all over his cock, the slippery and sticky substance making it easier for him to move.

He gave a few more thrust before ropes of cum coated your insides and he pressed a hand on your stomach, “Look at how I’m filling you up,” His voice was thick with a moan as he stilled and jerked inside you with aftershocks.

Ghost stayed there for a few seconds before pulling out and your pussy was dripping. Ghost gave you a satisfied smirk. “Cock drunk enough, little love? Can’t talk?” You nodded slowly.

“Give me about five minutes.” He rolled off of you and settled on his back on the small mattress. His size made it almost comical the way he tried to fit. “You feeling okay? No regrets?”

You settled on his chest and his arm wrapped around your waist. You could hear his fast heartbeat as you chest his bare chest. “No, Simon. I don’t regret it.”

Your mind was clouded but you were able to focus on the moment. Your emotions mix with a low state to a distraction. But you knew eventually you’d go back to guilt. The shame. And you’d be going home.

Until then, you would lay here with him and forget. Just for a while. And allow yourself to enjoy his warmth.

@marchsfreakshow @slvt4jamesmarch

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x me #Simon Riley smut #Simon Riley angst #Simon Riley hurt comfort #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost call of duty #ghost x smut

[pharmabitxh]

biochem notes! my handwriting is messy but it gets the job done haha

#studyblr #studyspo #new studyblr #notes #studying #gradblr #pharmblr #plant! #gotta love a good cell signaling unit

[thiscastielhasflown]

day one of j&kcreatorfest (with @expectingtofly)— prompts: diner and road trip cas is a human, he goes on a road trip with dean (who secretly loves guy fieri) and they visit jody who is honestly just a third-wheel. (2.4k)

"Can you move more towards my left?"

Cas stares blankly at Dean who is holding a vintage Polaroid camera up to his eyes and frantically gesturing with his other hand indicating which side for the other man to move towards. Blinking rapidly, Cas nervously looks from side to side before planting his feet in a new spot, kicking up dust onto his newly acquired pair of tennis shoes.

"No no, a little bit more to the right now. Just one more step—"

Cas awkwardly takes baby steps while watching Dean, making sure he's on the right track. His legs still getting used to walking again after their non-stop drive from a small town outside of Billings, Montana since earlier that same morning. Dean insisted they get a head start to the first location before the families end up "taking all of the good parking spots".

This is their first solo hunt since Cas became his current human form, something he still isn't entirely confident with yet — and most likely never will be. After giving himself about a month to recuperate and time to get used to his "new" body, it was probably about time to get back into the swing of things again. Hunting, the only sense of prior reality that has continued to follow him into his new life.

It was clear to Dean the change in Cas' demeanor, noticing that he was sulking around the bunker more often (only during the times when he actually leaves his bedroom), and a certain spark he used to have no longer made its presence. Ultimately, it was Sam who suggested the trip, mentioning that a hunter friend of theirs had called to inform them about a vampire infestation near Billings and politely asked for extra support.

Cas insisted that Sam should be the one to take his place, even offering to stay back in the bunker to give it a deep clean it so desperately needed. In standard Dean Winchester fashion, he patted Cas on the back and said that they'd make a mid-summer vacation out of it. Of course, at this point, Cas had no say on the subject and woke up the next morning with a backpack pre-packed ready for him.

"Ah, there! Perfect! Now stay exactly where you are, don't even think about moving a muscle. Hold your breath if you have to."

With no hesitation, Cas sucks in an exaggerated deep breath and inflates his cheeks to keep the oxygen inside his mouth. Dean rolls his eyes behind the camera before pressing the shutter button that lets out an audible CLICK and coinciding blinding light of the flash going off.

Once the polaroid ejects from the camera, Dean pulls it out and gives it a light shake, letting his camera dangle around his neck by its convenient strap.

"Well, that's as good as we're going to get it,” Dean closes the distance between him and Cas, walking up to turn him back around so he's facing the correct side of the landscape.

The two stand next to each other looking off into the vastness of terracotta-colored canyons carved into the earth below them. Cas has to contain every bone in his body from reaching out to grab the hand of Dean's already brushing up against his.

“Here, can you hold onto this?” Dean hands over the undeveloped photo to Cas, who nods and grabs onto it delicately.

They stand in silence for a couple of minutes basking in their panoramic view, the sound of gleefully screaming children and stern parents echoing around them until Cas finally speaks up, "So where exactly are we again Dean?"

Dean gasps in exaggerated surprise, "Badlands National Park in South Dakota Cas, one of the greatest wonders in the United States and possibly even the world. I'm serious. Take a look here—"

Dean pulls out the complimentary map of the park and flips to the back page, "—a man named Frank Lloyd Wright called the badlands an, “inescapable sense of mysterious". Only a badass like him would make a comment like that. Have you been anywhere else in your life this awe-inspiring?"

Cas pauses, "Yes. Galaxy GN-z11 located about 13.4 billion light-years from here."

Dean opens his mouth to say something before shutting it promptly, giving himself more time to formulate a response, "Well. Alright Mr. Showoff, anything else you wanna share with the class?"

"You asked, so I answered," Cas answers in a monotone voice, "I guess, now that I'm a human, it's the second most beautiful thing I've seen."

"Huh. Then what was the first?"

Don't say it. Cas swallows his inner thoughts and shrugs his shoulders, "It's a secret."

Dean shoves Cas playfully to the side and laughs, "Since when have you started keeping secrets from me?"

Cas fakes a laugh in response and lets his head hang down to cover the tinge of a blush creeping across his face.

"I didn't just bring you here for the scenery, does the name sound familiar to you?"

Cas tilts his head to the side in interest, "Name, Dean? What name?"

Dean sighs and shuts his eyes for a second, “Bandlands, like the movie. I made you watch it."

"Oh yes, I do remember. Starring Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek as star-crossed murdering lovers," Cas turns his head to look at Dean, "Are you insinuating we're like them?"

"N-no, well—not exactly? I mean, we've both killed...things before but I'm not insinuating we should go on a murdering spree. Unless we come across another pack of vamps. But this is our vacation with no work allowed, you hear me?"

Dean claps at Cas' shoulder, giving it a good squeeze before letting go, "Time to head out buddy, better to get on the road now so we can make it to the Corn Palace before it closes."

Cas stands confused as he watches Dean take off on the path towards the area they parked the Impala, "Corn Palace?"

****

Staring into the sun setting over the horizon in front of him as he drives, Dean reaches into his pocket to pull out his cell phone and holds it up to his ear. He lets his eyes raise to look out the rearview mirror while the phone rings.

"Hey Jody, are you home right now?"

Jody hesitates on the other side of the phone, "Odd question but yes I am. Everything okay?"

"We're about an hour out from your homestead and were wondering if the two of us could bunk over tonight.”

"Of course! You and Sam are always welcome to stay over anytime."

Dean looks over at Cas fast asleep in the passenger seat next to him, a souvenir foam cob of corn hat from the Corn Palace gift shop functioning as a comfortable barrier between his head and the window, “No, it’s uh—Cas and I. Sammy isn't with us.”

"Well, that's a change for once. Regardless, I'll leave the front door unlocked. Just come in and make yourself at home."

"Will do, see you soon. Bye," Dean hangs up the phone and places it back in his lap, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to pass the remaining driving time.

Once Dean turns down Jody's familiar street corner he calls out into the darkness of the car, "Cas, can you wake up for me? We're almost at our stopping point of the night."

Cas stirs, making a low humming sound but continues to sleep. Dean curses under his breath and turns into Jody's driveway and parks the car, thinking of the best plan to get not only their bags — but Cas — into the house in one piece.

He decides on starting with the bags first, reaching into the backseat area to grab them off of the floorboard carefully as possible without bonking Cas' sleeping body. Holding onto one in each hand, he exits the vehicle without trying to disturb his sleeping passenger.

"Hey there Dean, good to see ya!" Jody leans in for a hug and Dean maneuvers with the bags to give her a proper hug back, "Where's Cas?"

"Dead asleep in the car. I gotta go—" Dean signals towards the door with his thumb, "wrangle him out of there."

"I'll go put these bags in the guest room, take as much time as you need."

Dean walks off back towards the car, formulating a plan in his head. When reaching the car, he slowly opens the passenger side door and Cas instinctively leans away from it, cuddling up against the center console.

"Cas. Hey Cas, we're at Jody's house," Dean leans in to unbuckle Cas from the seat, jostling him enough in hopes of waking him up, "come on now, if you get up now you can go right back to sleep in a comfy bed."

Cas sleepily grumbles and holds out his arms, to which Dean grabs a hold of and pulls him up from the seat. The corn hat in the process toppling off of his head and onto the seat behind him. Dean pulls Cas' arm around his shoulder and locks his arm around his waist for stability, marching with him up towards Jody's house.

Jody holds the front door open for them, giving Dean a sympathetic look, and whispers, "The guest room is the first door on the right."

With the covers already pulled back, Dean plops Cas into the bed and adjusts his legs, pulling the covers up along with, "Good night," he murmurs before walking out of the room and closing the door quietly behind him.

Jody stands in the area between the living room and kitchen stirring a cup of tea, yawning slightly when Dean enters the living room, "I'm gonna head off to bed, there are leftovers in the fridge so help yourself. You look beat."

Dean scratches at the back of his head in exhaustion, "Been a long couple of days. I'm ready to stretch out on this couch and watch the back of my eyelids."

"Oh, you aren't..." Jody points in the general direction of the guest bedroom.

Dean's eyes widen in embarrassment, "No! I-I mean, Cas is in there, and uh, we didn't get time to talk about sleeping arrangements. So. Yeah. The couch."

"Sorry for...insinuating anything—something. There's a basket of blankets for you to pick from in the closet and I'm going to leave you be now. Get some good sleep, Dean."

"You too Jody, see you in the morning," with a slight wave of his hand, Dean awkwardly watches his friend retreat towards her bedroom. He plops down on the couch and sighs, putting his head in his hands.

****

Cas, Dean, and Jody sit at a tiny table located by the kitchen entrance in one of Sioux Falls’ biggest up-in-coming foodie restaurants, Bread & Circus Sandwich Kitchen — thanks to the exposure from being shown on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, one of Dean's favorite shows. The place was packed to the gills, the trio even had to wait for 45 minutes before getting a table. They only got in this soon because Jody managed to bribe the host with her position within the city.

They skim over the menu, making comments on certain dishes before the waiter finally approaches the table, “Hey there, I’m Jeremy. What can I get y’all to eat?”

Without hesitation, Dean speaks up first, “Guy’s fried chicken sandwich and a side of fries for me.”

Jeremy nods and writes down the order on a pad of paper before point his pen in the direction of Jody, “And for you Ms. Mills?”

“Oh Jer, you should know my usual at this point. The curried cauliflower with an extra side of sauce.”

“Perfect perfect…” he nods his head while writing before flashing a smirking smile at Cas, “Last but not least, what are you havin’?”

“Could I get just the standard burger? Oh, and a side of—”, Cas pauses and leans in closer to the menu to read, “—‘Naughty Fries’ please.”

Dean’s eyes narrow at Jeremy’s clear flirting, but he internally thanks his friend for still being so naive to pick up on the implication.

“I’ll go put these orders in, if you need anything else just flag me down,” Jeremy reaches for their menus and Dean takes this opportunity to shove his at the man a little harder than he should. Payback is sweet.

While their food cooks, the group takes this time to do some catching up with each other. Jody asks about how Sam is doing (“He’s trying to grow a beard and he looks like a grizzly bear” says Dean — Cas agrees to this statement), hunter-related gossip, and about their trip so far.

When Jeremy returns with the food, he sets them in front of each coinciding person before wishing them "good eats" and walks away to tend other tables.

"I've been waiting for this moment for months now," Dean licks his lips before holding the sandwich up to his mouth and taking a decent bite of it, letting out a pleasing crunch sound. Within moments his face changes its expression, lips pursing together with food squished in between each.

“You don’t like it, don’t you?” Jody asks, studying Dean’s reaction to his first bite.

Dean nods and reaches for his drink, using it to wash down the rest of the chewed-up sandwich, “It’s...alright. Not as good as I thought though. Guy made it look a lot better.”

“Switch with me,” Cas speaks up.

“What?”

Cas grabs ahold of Dean’s plate and switches it with his own, picking it up right away and taking a bite of it. Jody looks intently between the both of them, choosing to say out of what’s going on before beginning to eat again.

Dean is left staring with his mouth wide open before looking down at the burger now in front of him, “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You ordered a burger because you knew I wouldn’t like the sandwich, right?”

Cas shrugs and continues to eat his new food. Dean shoots a look at Jody to points at the plate in front of him, signaling him to 'eat', which he complies.

Once they're all finished, Jody insists on paying for the food and after arguing at the table, she ends up paying regardless. Wrapping up their conversation, Jody gets a phone call for "official business" leaving the both of them with hugs.

Dean excuses himself to go to the bathroom, telling Cas to go wait for him at the front entrance. Wiping his still-damp hands on his pants, he approaches Cas who is shuffling through complimentary postcards.

"You should get one of those."

Cas jumps and turns to look at Dean, "I can't choose though. Help me?"

Dean grabs one that looks almost like the same part of the badlands they looked out on yesterday, "This one, so you'll never forget."

"I'll never forget this Dean."

****

(original photos i took on my nintendo dsi during my own south dakota bandlands trip that i still somehow have -- dated august 7, 2011)

#j&kcreatorfest #deancas #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #ficlet #jace is typing... #this is the first long fic i have written in almost 10 years #so please be kind to me #but i do love how it turned out

[xjoonchildx]

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader chapter one: ICN --> LAX

pairing: jungkook/reader word count: 6.4K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings:  criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, highly improbable condom placement, unrealistic use of available sex space, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna​ who’s smut is even better than her art

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

One day it works out too well, then the next day I’m completely screwed (I still) Who should I live as today, Kim Namjoon or RM? 25, I still don’t know how to live well So, today as well, we just go -- Airplane, Pt. 2 BTS

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

Jungkook Jeon is basically your Carmen Sandiego.

You stare down at the photocopy of the state of California driver’s license in your hand, into the face of the brash little fucker you’ve been chasing across the globe for the better part of a year.

He looks barely old enough to drive.

Of course, this picture was taken years ago when he was a sophomore at Stanford. Back before he dropped out of school despite being in the top of his class. Back before he broke the law by taking six million dollars of someone else’s money, then broke his parents’ hearts by disappearing without a trace.

You should already have him in custody — and If he were like any of the other greedy assholes you usually chase, he would be. But instead, Jungkook Jeon has managed to deflect and dodge and avoid you at every turn for months.

It’s driving you fucking insane.

One time, you’d been so certain about cornering him in Argentina that you’d boarded a plane with a pair of thick-necked US Marshals and flown south. You’d had to head back to the States empty-handed and sunburnt and pissed.

The real kicker was when you’d gotten home and opened a one-line email – encrypted to hell and back – with a picture of your FBI Academy graduation headshot attached.

you’re so hot i almost want to get caught. almost.

That had hurt.

So you’d had to lick your wounds, bide your time and wait for a man who apparently didn’t make mistakes to make a mistake. And for a while, he didn’t.

Until he did.

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

Agent Kim Namjoon is definitely not the pencil pusher you imagined him to be during your many phone calls and other interactions.

No, the man who meets you and your team at Incheon International Airport is what the kids these days call a snack. He is tall and broad and wears a pair of dark thick-rimmed glasses that should make him look like a giant nerd but somehow don’t.

Very, very cute.

“Welcome to Korea,” he says with an easy smile. You smile back, then clear your throat and remind yourself you’re not here to flirt with your contact with Korea’s National Intelligence Service.

Seriously.

Agent Kim’s English is immaculate – this you already knew since you’ve exchanged more than a few calls in recent weeks. He’s got his own team ready for briefing at his headquarters. After a quick drive, you’re all in one room going over the plan.

His guys have tracked Jeon to a high-end restaurant in Seoul where he’s been working for a few months. They already have a rough sketch of the area. You’re going to block off every exit, cover every angle, and make sure there’s no way he’s getting out of that restaurant without coming through one of you.

This should go off without a hitch – but then you remember Argentina and frown.

“He’s there. My guys are ready to go,” Agent Kim says, after taking a quick call on his cell phone.

It’s decided, then.

You load into black vans and take off for the west end of the city. Agent Kim drives and you have the chance to look out the window at the streets. It’s a beautiful place, you think. Agent Kim seems to read your mind.

“You should come back sometime,” he says. “When you’re not here on business.”

Sigh. You’re going to have to flirt with this man, aren’t you?

“I would like that. Maybe you could show me around some time,” you reply.

His eyes stay on the road – his hands locked at 10 and 2 – but you see the ghost of a smile pass over his lips. You smile to yourself and look back out the window.

Minutes later you’re parked outside an industrial-looking brick building. Gleaming glass-and-stone condos and perfectly manicured greenscaping confirm you are in a high-dollar neighborhood. It’s a Saturday night in a ritzy part of Seoul and you’re probably about to ruin someone’s date night.

Or maybe rescue it, depending on the date.

You stare out at the restaurant and imagine Jungkook Jeon inside, going about his life without realizing you’re here to throw a wrench into all his plans. You get a little thrill when you imagine the look on his face when he realizes the gig is up. Victory is so close you can taste it.

Agent Kim gets a call from his point man, everyone is in place.

Showtime.

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

“Is that consommé? It looks like consommé. What do you think, Agent Kim?”

Jungkook Jeon looks shaken for a moment when you step in front of the table where’s he’s just laid out a picture-perfect pair of starters. His guests, a nicely-dressed older couple, also look shaken as they glance nervously between you, Agent Kim, and their now permanently off-duty server.

He straightens to his full height.

The youthful roundness of the face you’ve stared at so long in that driver’s license picture is gone. You have no idea what this guy’s been eating for the past few years, but in place of that baby-faced kid is a man, tall and broad and muscular. Tattoos you can’t make out run across his hands, up his arms, and disappear into the white dress shirt he has rolled to the elbows. His hair is on the long side, pulled back, giving you an unobstructed view of what can only be described as a perfect face. Serious, literal perfection.

Good grief.

Somehow the little shit recovers from his shock in an instant. He smirks, despite his clear disadvantage.

“I gotta say, you look even better in person.”

Oh yeah? So do you.

You ignore his opening line.

“It’s time to come home, Mr. Jeon. Pay the piper and all that.”

He has the nerve to roll his eyes and your hand itches with the desire to punch him in his stupid fucking perfect face.

“Teamed up with some Korean suits, huh?” He gives Agent Kim the once-over and apparently finds him lacking.

“Mr. Jeon,” you feign a scandalized tone. “Just how do you think I was raised? It would be downright rude to barge into a sovereign country without an invitation. Besides, Agent Kim here has been an absolute pleasure.”

You could hear a pin drop inside this restaurant right now. Every knife and fork and glass has come to rest on the fine white linen on these tables. The guests are frozen in place, taking in the strange scene.

Dinner and a show tonight, guys.

Jungkook doesn’t move an inch. You’d half expected him to just walk up, accept his cuffs and get this show on the road. But no, apparently he’s in a talking mood.

“Tell me how you found me.”

You sigh. You’re not a pair of girlfriends catching up over coffee. You open your mouth to say just that, but Agent Kim speaks up.

“We had a source come through with some very specific information on you.”

“Oh, I think Agent Kim is being far too kind,” you counter. “What he means to say is that your Korean sucks. You see, Mr. Jeon, you may look like them,” you gesture at the restaurant full of guests, “but you sound like us. Let’s just say you stick out like a sore thumb here.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement at the jab.

“I hated Korean school, you know.”

“It shows.”

He laughs.

Agent Kim clears his throat as if to remind you both that you’re not alone.

“Well this isn’t a social call, and I’m sure all these fine people would love to get back to their meals. So why don’t we finish this chat on the way back to the United States, Mr. Jeon?” you say, getting back to the task at hand.

Agent Kim signals his guys and they swoop in to put him in cuffs. He doesn’t resist, just holds out his hands and shoots you his most flirtatious smile.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Agent.”

On your way out the door, you glance over at the consommé and hope it’s supposed to be served cold.

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

“What is a man who stole six million dollars doing waiting tables at a restaurant?” you muse out loud.

Jungkook Jeon is in the backseat of Agent Kim’s black SUV, looking out the window.

“I had to have some kind of story, right? Besides, I kind of liked it.”

“You didn’t get to spend the money,” you say.

“Not really,” he admits. “It’s much easier to fantasize about blowing millions of dollars than it is to actually do it.”

“Tsk, tsk, Mr. Jeon. What a shame.”

He leans forward in the backseat, hands cuffed in front of him.

“You know what would really be a shame, Agent? If I don’t get the chance to fuck you before you lock me up.”

A muscle twitches in Agent Kim’s jaw.

“Watch your mouth,” he warns, glaring into the rearview mirror. You immediately decide you like him a little stern. It’s pretty hot.

“Mr. Jeon, you and your dick will be free to do whatever you’d both like in about twenty years. That’s how this whole grand larceny and evasion thing works,” you say, ignoring the sensation that spreads across the back of your neck at his crass words.

He whistles.

“I’m really going to waste my best-looking years in prison.”

No kidding.

“Oh, don’t be too disappointed,” you say sweetly. “I hear there are a few advantages to having such a pretty face behind bars.”

You hear the clink of his cuffs and look into your rearview just in time to see him give you the finger.

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

The government can be so cheap sometimes.

You’d have loved to pull right up to the tarmac at Incheon International, walk right onto a chartered plane like the Feds do in the movies. But alas, private flights are definitely not in the budget.

Instead, you have to settle for regular seats on a Korean Air flight. You’d been in touch with the airline ahead of time and they’d offered you and your team privacy in the back rows of the plane – complete with a curtain separator. You really couldn’t blame them for not wanting passengers to be greeted by a handcuffed man and his gun-toting babysitters.

Smart move all around.

Seating arrangements are decided, you and Jungkook on one side of the aisle, your two Marshals on the other. They’re both smart men, highly-skilled and boring as hell. You’d already had to suffer through their small talk on the fourteen-hour long flight here, and you’d be damned if you had to do it again on the way back.

“Are you going to let me have a drink?” Jungkook asks, as soon as you’re settled into your seats.

“Of course,” you reply, scrolling through a few emails on your phone. “What’s your favorite kind of juice?”

He snorts.

“It’s gonna be a long flight unless you play nice,” he warns.

“Mr. Jeon,” you sigh. “Shut up.”

He shakes his handcuffs.

“You could at least take these off,” he grumbles. “Not like I can walk off of a moving plane.”

“Nope,” you reply, affecting your best bored tone. You grab a magazine out of the seatback and pretend to leaf through it.

“So you want me to sit here – no phone, no headphones, no nothing – for fourteen hours?”

“Better to practice that ‘bored out of your mind’ routine sooner rather than later. I’m sure it’s gonna come in handy.”

You don’t look his way, but you can feel the glare he’s fixed on you and you have to fight the urge to smile.

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

The flight attendant who rolls a giant drink cart into your quiet section of this plane looks like a doll. Porcelain skin, huge eyes and the whitest smile you have ever seen.

Jungkook straightens in his seat immediately. He’s been pouting for the last hour but now he sees this dazzling young woman and his game face is back on.

“Hello,” he says, flashing her a smile.

Then he stops — seems to remember his audience — and resumes the exchange in Korean. You stare at him as he makes eyes at the flight attendant, working her with the confidence of a man who is not wearing handcuffs right now.

She blushes deeply at something he says before turning back to her cart to pour a Jack and Coke.

“Are you serious, Jeon?”

He smiles.

“You don’t hate me, right? Like, obviously I’ve pissed you off, but you don’t hate me. Because only a person who hated me would stop me from having a drink on my way to federal prison.”

You open your mouth to protest, but instead decide that he’s right. He’s a thief – not a killer for pete’s sake.

A super-hot, ridiculously charming, complete asshole of a thief who is definitely not getting under your skin by flirting with the flight attendant right now.

The porcelain doll turns back and hands him his cocktail and Jungkook winks at her. This man just accepted his drink with his hands in fucking handcuffs and this woman is blushing at him like he just asked for her number in a nightclub.

“Are you done?” you hiss.

“With what?” he asks innocently, cuffs clinking as he lifts the drink to his mouth.

“Eye-fucking the flight attendant.”

He feigns shock. “Are you – are you…jealous?”

You scoff and turn your attention back to your magazine.

He leans close.

“Don’t be jealous,” he says, blowing whiskey-scented breath into your ear. “I wanted you first. I’m only flirting with her because you’re really mean to me.”

He leans back and takes another sip of his drink.

There is something about this mischievous boy-man with the chiseled body and the smart mouth. He certainly has a charm. You’re certain he’s been able to use that charm to get out of more than a few sticky situations over the years.

“I wasn’t kidding you know,” he says. “About wanting to fuck you.”

He shakes the ice in his glass to show off that he’s already drained it and gives you another one of those self-assured smiles that’s really starting to piss you off. You drop your gaze back to your magazine.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” you state simply, pretending to have a deep interest in some blurb about face masks.

“No? Are you sure about that?”

“You are mind-bogglingly arrogant for a man who is headed to prison for the next two decades,” you reply dryly.

“Probably headed to prison,” he corrects. “Innocent until proven guilty, due process and all that. Unless things have changed? I realize it’s been a while since I’ve been home.”

You snort.

“Okay fine, you’re right. I’m headed to prison for the next twenty years which is why it’s imperative that you fuck me now. Immediately. Anything else would be,” he gives a dramatic shake of his head, “Inhumane.”

This time you can’t help but laugh and one of the Marshals across the aisle gives you a disapproving look, like he’s been forced to chaperone a pair of giggling teenagers.

You clear your throat and look back down at your magazine, force the smile off your face.

“Argentina,” you say. “How did you get out of there before I got to you?”.

The flight attendant returns with another drink and another smile for him.

“You want something, I want something,” he says, taking a long sip. “Maybe we could work something out?”

“I’m not going to fuck you for information, Jeon. All of that will soon come out in the wash,” you sigh.

“Then fuck me for charity. For good will. Fuck me because it’s the least you can do since you’re blowing up my entire life right now.”

You roll your eyes.

“You blew up your life, you idiot. You’re the one who intercepted a wire transfer and stole six million bucks. You’ve already been fucked. You fucked yourself.”

He smiles wistfully for a moment.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point there.”

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

You stop him at three drinks.

His eyes have taken on a soft quality and his entire energy is a bit more relaxed with some booze in his system. It’s hard, it’s really hard to ignore how hot this man is without even trying.

But when he tries? Then it’s damned near impossible.

You check your watch. You still have seven hours to go on this flight.

“Luck,” he says, suddenly.

“Excuse me?” you say, looking up from your magazine.

“You wanted to know how I got out of Argentina in time. I was gonna make up some fancy story about how I’d figured out you were on to me and beat the clock to get away but the truth is, I was just lucky. I’d already been there too long and I was getting restless. I was ready to go.”

Hmm. So the booze has made him talkative.

“Your landlord said we’d missed you by one day,” you counter.

“Yup,” he laughs, closing his eyes momentarily as if reliving the thrill of the chase. “I used to have a lot of luck, actually. Before I ran into you.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No you’re not.”

“Fair enough,” you say and the two of you share a laugh. You open a bag of pretzels and offer him one. He begrudgingly accepts.

“Why did you take the money?”

He chews thoughtfully for a moment.

“Because I wanted to know if I could. I didn’t think I was gonna pull it off, but again, it was my luck. Once I figured out how to do it, I just did.”

“How remarkably stupid,” you breathe, a smile on your face. He smiles, too.

“Yeah, well. I said I was lucky, not smart.”

“Oh, but you are smart, Mr. Jeon, and don’t think you’ve convinced me otherwise. Your transcript from Stanford tells a very interesting story. What did your parents say when you dropped out at the top of your class and went to work at a gas station?”

The sarcastic back-and-forth screeches to a halt. For the first time, you see darkness pass over his face.

“Don’t ask me about my parents,” he says curtly. “I’ll tell you whatever else you want to know, but that shit is none of your business.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, and this time you mean it.

He shifts to his side, away from you, and looks out the window.

You sit quiet, thinking for a minute – but after a while you both fall asleep.

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

You wake to Jungkook nudging you.

“Get up,” he says urgently. “I have to piss.”

You groan, trying to clear the fog from your brain and glance at your watch. Still four more hours to go on this flight.

“Like now,” he says, bouncing one leg to ward off the sensation.

You get up, stretch out, and wait for him to stand but then realize he’s waiting for you to help him since it’s an awkward fit in the seats with his handcuffs. Instead of making a snarky comment, you just offer your hand and a slight smile.

Very unlike you.

“Thanks,” he says, straightening out, stretching his legs. One of the Marshals raises an eyebrow at you.

“He has to use the bathroom,” you say, stilling the man with a raised hand when he makes to stand. “It’s alright, I need to stretch, too. I’ll walk him down there.”

The Marshal looks skeptically from Jungkook to you and back.

“It’s fine, Agent,” you say, a little annoyed. “It’s not like he can go anywhere, right?”

“Right,” Jungkook says, still bouncing that leg.

The Marshal gives you a look that makes clear he doesn’t approve, but he’s not going to stop you.

You walk behind Jungkook as he makes his way past the curtain, down the aisle and towards the bathroom. It’s a half-empty flight, and you’re glad for it when you see people staring at his handcuffs. You don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed on his behalf when you hear them whispering in Korean. At least you don’t know what they’re saying.

The firm set of Jungkook’s mouth makes you think he wishes that were the case for him, too.

“Just uh, give me a minute,” he says, when you reach the bathroom.

It turns out to be a lot longer than a minute.

You’re half tempted to bang on the door and demand to know why he’s taking so long. Maybe the Marshal was right to be suspicious of Jungkook. Maybe he figured out a way off this plane through the toilet.

You’re bouncing your own leg impatiently when he finally reappears.

“What took you so long?” you ask, annoyed.

“You ever try to take your pants and underwear off while handcuffed?” he asks. “You know what — never mind, don’t answer that. You’ll start giving me ideas.”

Ah. He’s back, then.

Part of you is a little relieved to hear his smart-ass mouth again. You feel a hell of a lot less guilty around this version of him.

“Listen, I did a little recon and it’s a tight fit, but there’s definitely enough room for us to fuck,” he says, face comically serious. “And we’re running out of time for you to pull the trigger, so what’s it going to be?”

“Ugh. You’re foul,” you say, pulling a face.

“But you kind of like it,” he shoots back.

He’s right, though. You kind of do.

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

Clearly you’ve lost your mind.

Pheromones have short-circuited all the portions of your brain that control logic, reason, and risk. That’s the only plausible explanation for why you are slumped into your seat right now, legs pressed together tight, imagining fucking Jungkook Jeon in an airplane bathroom.

Sympathy and curiosity and more than a little horniness are making for a strange mix. You reason to yourself — as if you are actually entertaining this madness — that he’s not a convicted felon, just an accused one. There’s gotta be a loophole in the FBI handbook somewhere.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Jungkook asks, leaning close — a smile playing over his lips.

“Shut up.”

“You are,” he whispers in a scandalized tone. “I mean with these on, I’m not going to be able to do my best work, obviously, but I’ve done more with less. Unless you want to take them off,” he says, rolling his wrists in the handcuffs.

“I already told you, I’m not taking those off,” you say sharply.

“Alright, alright. Keep it kinky. I can roll with that.”

”Shut up, Jeon.”

He gestures across his mouth like he’s zipping it shut and throwing away the key and you fight the urge to laugh.

“If I decided to fuck you, and I’m not saying I would,” you hiss, “I would have to stuff a sock into that smart mouth of yours just to not have to hear it.”

He laughs and his face looks so young and relaxed it takes your breath away a little.

“Make it your underwear and we have a deal,” he winks.

You pick up another magazine and get back to actively trying to ignore him and that annoying pulse between your legs.

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

Two hours left to Los Angeles.

You glance over at your guard dogs, who’ve both knocked out after a snack. One has a newspaper draped fully over his face, grandpa style.

You should have ordered a drink. You should have ordered six. That way, if you’re ever called to the carpet about the decision you’re about to make, you can blame it on alcohol-induced psychosis. Because the Marshals are asleep and you feel bad for Jungkook Jeon and he’s so hot you can barely think straight at this point. You take a deep breath and make a decision.

Fuck it.

You stand quietly, motioning to Jungkook with a finger over your lips. For a moment, his brows knit together in confusion but that look passes almost as quickly as it came. Then his entire face breaks out into a wide grin.

“Yeah?” he whispers.

“Shut up,” you whisper back, through gritted teeth.

You hold out your hand to help him to stand and when he grips it, he rubs his the pad of his thumb across your wrist. You try to ignore the sizzle of arousal he manages to drum up with that brief touch.

Quietly, you both walk past the curtain, past sleeping passengers and back to the clean but cramped bathroom where you are about to do the dumbest shit you have ever done.

You glance around at the passengers nearby and notice only one older man, eyes wide on the two of you. You shoot an excuse-me-sir-this-is-official-government-business look at him before following Jungkook into the tiny space.

You lock the door and turn to face him.

“Glad you finally came around,” he says, immediately backing you into the door. His mouth goes right for your neck and he pushes his entire body into yours in this tiny space. He is large and warm and he smells way better than he should after working a restaurant shift, being arrested, and then being jammed into a plane seat for hours.

His lips work up the column of your throat and his hands, still secured in front of him, push uselessly into the front of your lightweight wool dress. Shame, really, that you couldn’t take him out of these. You’d love to feel those hands right about now.

“I wasn’t kidding about keeping your mouth shut,” you manage to say, breathless at the feel of his mouth on your skin. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The vibration of his laughter tickles the shell of your ear.

“I’ll be a good boy, I promise,” he says. “I just need to get my face under this dress.”

Your brain stutters for a moment, hung up on the mental image. He drops to his knees in front of you, lifts his hands to try and push up the front of the almost-too-tight garment but his handcuffs make it impossible. You graciously help him out, hiking the hem up your thighs. You’re about to work your underwear down, but he’s impatient, burying his face directly into the wet satin and inhaling deeply.

“Fuck, you smell amazing,” he groans, nosing the aching nub between your thighs. You’re glad he can’t see the way your mouth drops open when he licks out at the damp material, teasing you with the barest hint of friction.

“Help me out here,” he moans, and you do just that, sliding your panties down as best you can with the amount of space you’ve got.

At this angle, you can only get them down to your knees, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to care. He pushes his entire face into you, lips and teeth and tongue driving into you, working you with a fervor that makes your knees start to wobble. You grab a handful of his hair to steady yourself but it’s no use. Absently, you realize the tremors running up and down your body are rattling the door.

“Nice to know that mouth is good for more than just trash talk,” you tease on deep exhale. He laughs.

“Maybe some day you’ll get the chance to enjoy the full-service experience.”

“Probably not, Jeon,” you moan. “This is just a one-time favor, got it?”

All the blood in your brain has taken a dive into parts lower south and you marvel at how quickly your impending orgasm is coming on. But then, you’ve basically had about ten hours of foreplay up to this point, so maybe it’s not that surprising.

That damned door keeps rattling and you just know the little old man on the other side is probably staring it down. You’re not sure what it says about you that you think that’s kind of hilarious.

Your body jolts when Jungkook wraps his lips around your clit and sucks so hard you see stars. “You’re the one about to come on my face in an airplane bathroom,” he groans, licking obscenely between words. “So who’s doling out favors right now?”

Well, that does it.

The second he brings his lips and tongue back to your clit, you fall apart, gripping his hair so hard you’re certain it has to hurt. You pour all your energy into not screaming as your orgasm steamrolls you, and whatever energy you have left goes into trying to stay upright. Jungkook stays face-first in your heat, lapping up your release until the last tremors shake you and that goddamned door.

“Shit,” your voice is shaky, chest heaving when you finally make a sound.

“You are very, very fucking hot,” Jungkook says, breathless from where he sits on the floor. “Way too hot to be a Fed.”

You laugh.

“Well you are definitely too hot to be a criminal, but here we are, huh?”

Your eyes slide down to his glinting handcuffs, but they aren’t what’s catching your attention. Instead, your gaze heads right to the giant bulge straining against the front of his jeans. Turnabout is fair play, and you’re suddenly very eager to return the favor.

You help him stand and immediately seal your mouth to his, tasting yourself on his lips. Your fingers fumble past his restraints, underneath to where you can feel the button of his jeans and you undo it as fast as you can. He stops kissing you long enough to groan into your mouth when your hands slip into his boxers and your fingers wrap around his cock. He is hot and thick and hard in your hand. You squeeze around him, enjoying the way his hips jerk in response.

“Don’t tease,” he whines. “I’m gonna have to fantasize about this blowjob for the next twenty years.”

“I’d better make it memorable then,” you say, sinking down to your knees in the cramped space. You shove his jeans off his hips and look up at him as you gently push his boxers down and over his straining cock. His body is rock hard, lean muscle and defined lines running from his shapely legs up to his cuffed wrists and underneath that white shirt you’d love to peel off but can’t.

His head falls back the second your lips touch his swollen head. You tease it for a moment with a few quick licks, but decide this is really not the time to be dragging this out. The strangled “fuck” he whispers when you take him down fully is the sweetest and dirtiest thing you’ve heard in a while.

You manage to catch his gaze for a moment as you maintain a steady rhythm on his cock with your hands. His eyes are glassy with drinks and arousal, and you nearly have to slip a hand between your legs when his tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his lips.

He lifts and drops his handcuffs a couple of times before growling his frustration at not being able to put his fingers in your hair. You feel a faint throb of sympathy for him for a moment before reminding yourself that you literally have your mouth around his cock so frankly, things could be a lot worse for him than they are right now.

“You gotta stop,” he says, after a few minutes of the slow, wet torture. You release him with a soft pop and a confused expression.

“It’s your last blowjob for twenty years, Jeon. You want me to stop?”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I have to fuck you. Please let me fuck you. It’s all I can think about,” he whines.

“You can’t,” you say firmly. “No condoms.”

He blows out a heavy breath like he’s thinking for a moment and there you are, on your knees in this tiny bathroom, confused as to what your next step should be.

“Look around,” he says suddenly.

“What?”

“Look – people fuck in airplane bathrooms all the time, right? It’s a thing. Maybe someone out there pulled some hero shit and is looking out for the next person.”

“This bathroom,” you say skeptically, “is the size of a goddamned shoebox, Jeon. You think we’re going to magically scrounge up a condom?”

“Just look,” he implores through gritted teeth.

“Fine,” you huff, leaning over to pop the cabinet under the sink open. You put one searching hand inside and pull out three sanitary pads that look like they were packaged in the 1970s.

He groans, frustrated.

“Hang on,” you say, jamming your hand back inside. Your fingertips brush up against something smooth and you fish it out, eyes wide with utter disbelief.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you say, more to yourself than to him.

You hold the condom packet up for him to inspect.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, cock jerking at the sight of it, like it knows he’s just hit the jackpot.

He laughs so hard for a moment you fear this entire encounter has gone entirely off track.

“My luck is back,” he declares triumphantly, finally. “Now, please hurry up and get on my dick.”

You’re shaking your head in disbelief the entire time you’re ripping the packet open, rolling it down Jungkook’s impossibly still-hard cock. He’s breathing hard, body tense with anticipation when you slide your heels off to take your underwear off completely.

“The heels,” he groans, watching as you slip your panties over your ankles. “Can you — you know…keep ‘em on?”

“Ugh, you are such a pervert,” you scold, slipping your feet back into the shoes and leaning back to line him up with your entrance. He surges forward and you moan at the stretch as he fills you entirely in one thrust.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, already rolling his hips frantically against you. “Shit, that’s incredible.”

And truthfully, it is. The ledge of the sink is biting into your ass with every thrust and you’re having to do most of the work given his handcuff situation but you really don’t even care because he still feels amazing like this.

He mouths uselessly at the wool covering your breasts because there’s no way to get to them. You nearly admonish him because he’ll leave crude wet spots on the fine material, but you decide against it.

“Oh, I bet you have amazing tits,” he groans, hips maintaining a steady rhythm. “Giving me something to look forward to for next time.”

“There won’t be a next time, Jeon. And there won’t be a this time if you don’t hurry up already,” you shoot back.

He laughs, a little breathless from exertion. “I’m close, I promise. Fuck, you feel so good.”

You squeeze tighter around him, push harder back against him, angle your hips a bit more to ensure he’s going to the hilt with every thrust. The guttural sound he makes in response sends a shiver up your back.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasps after a moment, mouth covering yours as his hips begin to stutter at the first ebbs of his release. Your ass is numb from the sink ledge at this point, legs tired from supporting your weight and his.

“So come then,” you tease, biting gently on the sensitive skin at his pulse point. He groans from deep inside his chest as he lets go – hips jerking as he pumps himself through it.

“Shit,” he groans, leaning on you with his full weight.

“You are crushing me Jeon,” you complain, pushing at his chest with both hands. He chuckles. “Yeah, sorry about that. Balance is a little off at the moment.”

You open your mouth to shoot another sarcastic comment his way, but there is something about the way he is looking at you right now that stops you short.

You clear your throat, uncomfortable with the tiny glimpse into whatever that was.

“Well, as much as I’d love to ruminate on how good this was,” you say, shifting your dress back down and making a beeline for your underwear, “We’ve been in here an insane amount of time already. There’s probably a line outside the door.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, a little too quiet for your liking.

So you put yourself back together and help put him back together, too.

And strangely, when you open the door to leave there is no line. But that little old man is still watching, a look of astonishment on his face as you both walk past.

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

“Listen, are you sitting down right now?”

You frown at the phone display in your office because any conversation that starts with an opening line like that is headed south.

“Uh…yeah. Why?”

“Hang on, I’m coming to your office.”

Seconds later, Agent Novak bursts through the door.

“So you haven’t seen it,” he says, rushing up to your desk.

“Seen what, Novak? Spit it out,” you say, frustrated already.

“Check your email,” he says, arms crossed over his chest. He looks fit to burst with some kind of excitement and your chest already feels a little tight at whatever it is he’s dying to show you.

You click into your email to find an urgent bulletin that you’d missed because you were working on a stack of papers on your desk, not your computer. The subject line makes your heart hammer.

URGENT MEMO: Fugitive Search, Jungkook Jeon

ATTACHED VIDEO FILE

“The guy just walked out of a federal courthouse like he was on an afternoon stroll. Had on a suit and everything,” Novak says, a note of awe in his voice. “Check out the video.”

Your mouth is already hanging open before you even click on the attached CCTV footage. A camera inside the courthouse shows Jungkook Jeon walk out of a bathroom in the front lobby, dressed like an attorney, not a defendant. His long hair is cut into a more professional style, his suit covers his tattoos and he looks entirely in place.

Novak is right – he walks so casually past the guards and other visitors that no one even thinks to stop him.

“Word is, court was on a lunch break and it looks like he had everything ready to go. Walked into a waiting Uber and vanished like smoke.”

You haven’t said a word since Novak walked in with this bombshell.

You just watch the CCTV footage over and over again in a loop, willing your brain to accept what your eyes can see clear as day.

This motherfucker.

Guess his luck really is back.

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

#jungkooksmut #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x read #btssmut #bts fanfic #bts fic

[erin-bo-berin]

Birthday Surprise

MASTERLIST

So I actually got this idea from a adult romance book I read last year and it was so humorous, I knew I wanted to write a scenario like it with Spencer and the team. Besides, Spencer can be funny at times too.  Hope you enjoy!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 2,529

You can’t believe you let your best friend talk you into this.

“It will be a great birthday present!” Bree exclaimed, beaming.

You grumble to yourself. This was a better idea in theory than reality.

Your boyfriend, Spencer Reid, had a birthday coming up. It was the last year of his 30’s and you really wanted to do something special for him, but with every gift you thought of, it just didn’t seem to be enough.

That was when Bree, the grand schemer of all schemes, came up with what she thought was a brilliant idea. 

She worked at a nice, upscale restaurant as a waitress. Also, she had one of the nicest sections. You were to make reservations for you two and you would hide under the table for when he arrived and you could give him a secretive, surprise blow job. It would be hot and memorable, she said.

You arrived at the restaurant 15 minutes early. Bree had managed to snag you a table that was off in a corner, with more privacy and helped you under the table. Which is where you currently were.

It all sounded great when she had hatched the idea, now you just felt silly, your knees were numb and your feet were falling asleep. You were about ready to give up and come out from under the table with your tail between your legs when you heard voices approaching your table.

“Here’s your table, sir, I’ll be right back with your menu,” Bree said, probably louder than she should have. 

With one rap against the table, you knew that she was giving you the signal that you two were alone now. 

You watch as he sat down and you see his familiar black converse suddenly appear inches from your legs, his black suit pants accompanying the shoes. He’d probably just come from work.

You hesitate, not sure if you should go through this, but decide you’ll never get another chance like this. You’re reaching out for his belt buckle when you hear Bree’s voice, loud and close again.

“Can I help you?”

There was a pause and then a mixture of voices you didn’t recognize.

“Let me see if I have a bigger table available in my area! I’ll be just one second!” 

Bree’s voice is suddenly high pitched, sounding frantic. You know her voice only sounds like that during super busy shifts, when she’s panicked and freaking out. Something is wrong and you have no idea what’s going on.

Your phone buzzes in your purse. You twist around, not easily, to retrieve it from your bag. It’s a text from Bree.

ABORT MISSION. More dinner guests.

Your brows furrow. You have no earthly idea what she’s talking about. You send back a few question marks.

A huge group of people just showed up to your and Spencer’s table.

Your phone vibrates repeatedly with multiple texts from your friend.

Tall assassin looking black woman.

Hispanic looking guy with nice hair.

Buff Asian hottie with tattoo.

Italian grandpa.

Brunette boss lady with bangs.

Pretty blonde with killer legs.

Another blonde wearing every color in the rainbow and cute shoes.

You stop breathing for a second. They all sound like Spencer’s coworkers.

As in coworkers from the team in the unit of the FBI, where he works. This was not how you planned to meet them for the first time.

You have no idea why they’re here though, so you’re just as bewildered as Bree. But you’ve started to panic, trying to figure out how you’re gonna escape with no one seeing you. It would be humiliating to meet Spencer’s work family like this.

How the hell am I gonna get out from under the table without them knowing?

Don’t worry, I got this.

You hear the clicking of heels approaching and hear Bree talking to the team.

“We’re working on that table, why don’t I escort you all to the bar so you can see our drink menu.”

“I’ll wait here with you, Spence,” a male voice said.

“Damnit,” you mumble.

Now your escape was going to be even harder.

The majority of the voices fade away with Bree’s and you sighed, resigned to the fact that you’re going to be stuck under this table for a while.

You make a mental note not to listen to another one of Bree’s ideas.

“So, kid, did you tell Y/N that you were inviting us to your birthday dinner? We’re all so excited to meet her.”

“No,” Spencer answered the deep, older sounding voice, “I wanted to surprise her because I was afraid if I told her beforehand she’d stress out about meeting all of you.”

Well that explained that.

You were surprised alright. 

“How long have you been together now? Over a year? And we haven’t even met her yet? Are you sure you haven’t made her up?”

You bite your thumbnail trying your hardest not to laugh out loud.

“No, Rossi, I haven’t made her up. She’s real. Besides you know every time we tried to make plans something has come up.”

“Quite conveniently too, I might add.”

You already like this guy.

“She should be here soon,” Spencer said.

You catch a glimpse of him pulling his phone out of his pants pocket, positive he’s checking if there’s any missed texts or phone calls from you.

You guess now is the best time of any to make him aware of your presence. 

Your hand slides up his thigh and you choke back your cackle when he practically jumps ten feet in the air.

“Something wrong?” 

“Uh I dropped my phone under the table, let me just get it.”

His chair scoots back and he bends down under the table, pretending to retrieve his phantom fallen cell phone. His eyes widen when he sees you under the table. You give a meek smile and wave in return.

You point to your phone, miming texting to tell him that’s the only way you can talk without being found out.

“Oh found it. It fell against the wall.”

Spencer sits back up again, pulling his chair in as he settles.

“I think I’m gonna text Y/N, just so I can get her ETA,” Spencer says calmly.

He’s way too good at staying calm in situations, so you’re not too surprised that he sounds completely normal even though he just discovered his girlfriend curled up in an uncomfortable position, under a table in a restaurant.

I’m afraid to ask why you’re under the table.

That was one good thing about Spencer; he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. So instead of mocking you, embarrassing you or even being angry, he approached most things calmly. Although you’re sure he’s secretly dying of amusement over this. You’re positive this isn’t going to be the last time you hear about this.

Well, I was kinda hoping to surprise you for your birthday with a hot, secret blowjob...but it kinda blew up in my face instead of how you were supposed to.

You hear him snort above you which he quickly covers with a cough.

“Y/N should be here soon. She’s probably closer than she thinks.”

You hit his leg. What a smart ass he is, although technically he is a smart ass but that’s another story.

Help me get out of here. I don’t want to exactly pop out to meet your teammates like “hi I was just hiding out for a nice birthday sexcapade nice to meet you”.

Technically doesn’t that mean an illicit affair?

Spencer, we really need to introduce you to Urban Dictionary.

A chorus of voices approach the table.

“Any update on that table?” came a female voice.

“Nothing yet. But, uh, have you seen their amazing aquarium? Come on, I’ll show it to you!”

“I gotta head to the ladies room, I’ll find you at our new table.”

This voice was a different female voice from the first one.

You wait until the numerous voices get far enough from the table when you decide to peek from underneath the tablecloth. You curse, seeing a woman that looks a lot like what Bree described as the brunette boss lady walking in your direction. That was most definitely Spencer’s boss. 

You drop the tablecloth like it’s on fire, concealing yourself once again. You watch as the feet pass by the table and brave another look. Thankfully, it’s all clear.

You dash as fast as you towards the kitchen. If Bree is in there, your hands might find their way around her neck.

•

“Bree, that could’ve been disastrous!” you shriek, causing a few of the kitchen staff to peer over at you.

Sorry, you mouth, wincing.

“Well it’s not like Spencer is mad is it?” she asked, loading plates onto her tray.

“No, but he’s not going to let me live it down.”

“Hey, think of it this way. He’s gonna be thinking of that BJ the entire dinner,” she smirked.

“I’m never listening to another one of your hair brained ideas,” you grumbled.

“Hey, you’ll thank me later,” she sing-songed lifting the tray of food to her shoulder, “Now just go out the back kitchen door, walk around to the front of the restaurant and it will be like nothing ever happened.”

She was gone through the swinging doors in a jiff and you sighed, heading towards the back door.

•

It takes a whole ten minutes for you to circle the entire building before you finally reach the front doors. You attempted to compose yourself and straighten your red mini dress before entering and going to find the new table. You spot them a few minutes later and walk up nervously.

“There she is!”

Spencer’s face lights up when he sees you and suddenly you don’t feel as nervous as you did seconds before. He loved this group of people and that meant a lot to have a Spencer seal of approval. Maybe the night wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Did you take the subway here?” Emily asked.

“Um, yes. That’s why I’m late, I’m so sorry.”

“I sure hope it wasn’t too crowded down there—I mean in there,” Spencer smirks.

You shoot him an exasperated look and are met with one of his thousand kilowatt smiles.

Turns out, dinner wasn’t so bad after all.

•

“You were right; they were all incredibly nice,” you say as you and Spencer walk in the door of your apartment, “I love them.”

“I knew you would,” he smiled.

“So, have you had a great birthday?”

“Well I’ve had quite the unusual one, that’s for sure.”

You stifle a groan as you kick off your heels in the hallway.

“I still can’t believe you actually hid under a table to surprise me.”

He’s already laughing again.

“I’m still gonna kill Bree.”

“Hey,” he grabs you by the arm, turning you towards him, “I’m incredibly flattered that you went to such lengths for me.”

“Really?” you asked timidly.

“Of course,” he smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “Not every girlfriend would plan to blow their boyfriend in front of his coworkers.”

“Spencer!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he chuckled, leaning against the hallway wall, pulling you towards him and kissing you.

“Mm, well it is still your birthday, you know,” you say devilishly, biting his bottom lip gently then kissing him again.

You pull away, taking a hold of his tie before leading him to the bedroom. It takes a few minutes for you both to make it there as he stops you frequently to steal a kiss or two.

Finally at your destination, you push him against the closed bedroom door, fingers pulling off his tie. Your lips trail his jaw then neck, fingers fumbling over his button down. 

He chuckles amused, aiding you. Your mouth travels down his neck and over his chest, making slow work of your descent. He watches you closely as you fall to your knees, a kiss placed just above the waistline of his pants. Your hand comes up to press against the forming bulge in his pants and he groans lowly.

“I may not have been able to do this earlier, but we’ve got all the time in the world now,” you bite your lip and peer up at him innocently.

Popping the button and pulling his zipper down, you push his pants down over his hips. The edges of your fingers dip into the waistband of his underwear and you hear the sharp intake of his breath; you can tell how much he’s anticipating this.

Apparently Bree was right and he had been thinking about it all dinner long, especially if his small stolen touches under the table were any indicator. There would be a gentle touch on your thigh, slowly sliding just a bit too close towards your inner thigh; an arm wrapped around your back, his fingers just casually brushing the bottom swell of your breast. He had been ready for this hours ago and you were ready to give it to him.

Your eyes don’t leave his as the clothing is pulled downwards and you wrap a hand around him, squeezing just hard enough to cause his head to fall back with a dull thud against the door, a groan coming from deep in his throat.

You lean down, tongue swirling around the tip, agonizing slow, your fingertips ever so slightly tracing down his length.

“Oh god,” he groaned, “Don’t tease me, Y/N.”

“Not so fun when you're not the one dishing it out, now is it?”

He could be the ultimate tease in the bedroom, so this taste of his own medicine was long overdue.

Your tongue swirls around him before taking him in your mouth, his moan of relief and pleasure filling your ears. 

With hollowed cheeks, you alternate your speed and pressure, keeping him on his toes, making your next move unpredictable to him.

“Baby, please.”

His moans are louder and more frequent as his hand moves into your hair. You look up through your lashes as you work him, keeping your gaze locked on him. You think you actually hear him whimper.

Your hand pumps the rest of him, your wrist turning as your mouth moves on him, your tongue whirling as if you’re enjoying a favorite ice cream cone.

His hand tightens in your hair and you can tell he’s close to losing all control. 

“Y/N, Y/N, fuck, fuuuuck,” he groans finally letting go and succumbing to his ecstasy.

You take all he has in stride, discreetly wiping your mouth when you pull back although you’re sure he’s too dazed to notice.

“Happy birthday to me,” Spencer mumbles, pulling you to your feet and kissing you.

You break the chaste kiss, backing up towards the bed.

“Well lucky for you, there’s still three and a half hours left of your birthday. How about we do a little more celebrating?”

It takes him all of two steps to cross the room and take you in his arms, causing you to giggle.

Yeah, this would be a birthday he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

Tag List: @dreatine​ @reid-187​ @groovyreid​ @reidslibra​ @suvikamahes98blr​ @fuckthealarm​ @whatspunispun​ @iamburdened​ @cindywayne​ @thomasfoockinshelby​ @tinyminy88​ @theitcaramelchick​ @missprettyboy​@hushlilbabydoll @sammy-jo1977​ @theonlyone-meeeee​ @haileymorelikestupid​

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid gifs #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid gifs #dr spencer reid smut #Criminal Minds #criminal minds gifs #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

[bleedinghearthalstead]

SWAT!Jay / Upstead AU

A/N: Part 9! SWAT!AU version of 7x19 Buried Secrets. Crossposted on AO3, link on my blog.

"D-21 Squad, advise 3rd District commander, I need every available patrolman and SWAT. We got a hostage barricade situation."

"Sarge, we got something," Hailey announces when she opens the door of the interrogation room where Hank is questioning Wade Henslow. She waits for her superior to step out before she continues, "Patrol drove by Dylan Stevens' last known. The silver Isuzu from the kidnapping is parked right outside."

"Good." Hank nods. "Tell them to hold tight, we're on our way."

"You got it."

The Intelligence unit gears up and drives to the South Side in three cars, parking down the road of the LKA. Kevin grabs the ram and they walk up the street in a single file, guns ready. Before they can even get to the gate, they hear glass breaking above them and a gun firing. The team ducks behind the brick fence in front of the house.

Hailey immediately gets on the radio. "10-1, 10-1. Shots fired at the police and we're pinned down at 51 Whitecrest. I repeat, 51 Whitecrest."

They hear Gary Stevens yelling at them that he has Charlotte Henslow. "Make any move to come inside and I will kill her!"

Hank calls it in. "D-21 Squad, advise 3rd District commander, I need every available patrolman and SWAT. We got a hostage barricade situation."

With the first patrol cars arriving only a few minutes after Hank's call, Hank and Hailey take charge of the scene, having the patrol officers block off the street and evacuate the surrounding houses on the block. Kim and Vanessa are setting up a mobile headquarters in the church across the street of the house that Stevens is holed up in and Adam and Kevin are taking cover behind one of the patrol cars, observing the house with their guns drawn.

Hailey knows Jay is on duty so she watches in anticipation as a SWAT truck pulls up not even half an hour later and the squad disembarks, first the SWAT team leader followed by his operators. She walks up to stand next to Hank and they wait for the team leader and two of his men to come up to them.

"Hicks." Hank shakes the team leader's hand. "Good to see you. We've got one hostage taker, name's Gary Stevens, white male, 55 years old. The hostage is Charlotte Henslow, white female, 21 years old. They're in the house over there, barricaded on the second floor where the broken window is."

"His position's looking down on the only entrance and we can't breach," Hailey adds and looks straight at Jay, who is standing next to his team leader.

Hicks also turns to his sniper. "Get Sam, get an elevated position and get me a clean shot."

"Yessir." Jay nods. He gives Hailey a wink and a small smile before he walks away, waving at Sam who is standing by the SWAT truck. Jay and his spotter look around the area for only a few moments before Jay gives Sam a hand signal and they disappear into the church.

The team leader then turns back to Hank. "You establish contact yet?"

Before Hank can answer, Kim comes up to them, holding out a phone to her sergeant. "We got a cell phone number for Gary Stevens, line's open."

"Good." Hank takes the phone. Hicks and his second-in-command Trey, their negotiator, give each other a look, but they've worked with Hank Voight often enough that they know things run a little differently when Intelligence is involved. The team leader tells Trey to stay with Hank and motions at Hailey to walk back to the SWAT truck with him.

Hicks stops where the rest of the SWAT team is waiting. "Detective Upton, my breach team will be following your lead."

"Copy that." Hailey and the breach team nod at each other. She's come to know Jay's team quite well over the years and she trusts them to have her back just as much as they trust her to call the shots. The four-man breach team gathers their shields and M4s and she leads them to where Adam and Kevin are waiting while Hicks walks back to Hank.

Settled in their position, Mitch sidles up to her and nudges her shoulder. "Hey, so what's the guy's deal?"

Hailey bemusedly looks at the huge form of the breacher crouched behind the car, the vehicle barely giving him enough cover. She shrugs at his question. "Stevens thinks that the girl's father had something to do with his son's disappearance and we think this is some sort of revenge act."

They listen to Hank talk to Stevens over the radio. "Now, Wade Henslow said you demanded two million dollars."

"He's a liar," they hear Stevens say, "I never said I wanted money." He angrily demands that Wade Henslow is brought here to tell him what he did to his son or he'll kill the other man's daughter. They have one hour.

Hank grimaces and orders Adam to get Henslow from the district. "Drag his ass here now."

In the meantime, the sniper team has set up in the church. They had no choice but to break the church window (please send reimbursement requests to the CPD) and Jay's sniper rifle rests on its bipod on a cupboard. Jay is in a standing position behind the rifle and Sam is next to him looking through his spotter's scope. The position isn't ideal since Jay will have to shoot with an upward angle, but it's the best they can do as it's the only place with a direct view of the window Stevens was shooting from earlier. Their headsets crackle and it's their team leader. "Halstead, you got a visual?"

"I'm locked on the window. No target."

The radio crackles again. "We're waiting for Wade Henslow, the girl's father, but if you get a shot, you take it."

"Roger that." Jay's eyes stay trained on the other house, but the curtains are drawn. There's no way he can take a clean shot this way. He glances at Sam out of the corner of his eye. "You got something, buddy?"

Sam keeps looking through his scope and sighs. "Nah, I got nothing. Gotta wait till he moves towards the window."

Jay nods and lets out a deep breath. Time to get comfortable and wait. It's nothing new really. As a sniper, he is used to waiting on target, waiting for the right moment to shoot. Sam is silent beside him and they're both getting into the zone. Breathing in through the nose, breathing out through the open mouth. Trey keeps the line open and they can hear everything that is being said where he is standing next to Intelligence's sergeant – Henslow's just arrived, Hank is questioning Henslow's story, Henslow is denying his involvement in Dylan Stevens' disappearance, Stevens calling in, Henslow and Stevens arguing –, but it's all just background noise to them.

Jay moves his finger to the trigger as soon as he sees the curtains move and Charlotte Henslow appears at the window, duct tape over her mouth and her hands tied, gun to her head. When Stevens starts his countdown, Jay's world grows smaller and smaller and quieter and quieter until all of his focus is concentrated within the circle he can see through his scope. From somewhere, like it's very far away, he hears Hank yell, "Upton, go now!", but that's not important right now. All he hears is seven, six, five, four… he breathes out, three, waits for another heartbeat, two, and squeezes the trigger. The shot echoes through the street.

"Everybody stand down!" Voight yells. "Was that Halstead?"

Jay presses the button on his radio. "I got a partial. I took the only shot I had."

As soon as she hears her sergeant bark at them to breach now, Hailey, Adam, Kevin and the SWAT team move across the street towards the house. Mitch picks up the ram they abandoned earlier and reaches the door first. He looks at Hailey, who will be first through the door, followed by her team mates. Hailey nods at him. "Hit it."

The door frame splinters under the force of Mitch's entry and the door slams against the wall, the whole place rattling. The Intelligence team moves straight for the staircase and Kevin tells the SWAT guys to hold on the ground floor. The place is very quiet and they briefly wonder if Jay has already finished the job, even if he didn't have a clean shot.

Hailey and Adam start clearing the second floor until they reach the last room. She signals at Adam to hold as she slowly peeks her head in only to quickly pull back when she sees Stevens standing in the back corner, holding his gun against Charlotte's head, the girl standing in front of him as a shield. "Take one more step and I will kill her!"

"No, you will not, Gary," Hailey calls into the room. "There's another way out of this, alright? Just keep calm." She turns to Adam and whispers at him, "Keep everybody back, okay?" Adam nods at her. "Everybody's gonna stay back, but I gotta come in there so I can see that Charlotte's okay, you understand?"

"Stay out!" Stevens yells.

Once again, she slowly peeks into the room, this time also holding up her hand and pushing the door open with it. "My name is Detective Upton. I'm gonna move in, alright?" She keeps her right hand up and although she's not pointing it at Stevens, she's still holding onto her gun.

"Put the gun down!"

She raises an eyebrow at the offender. "I don't put my gun down until you put your gun down."

Stevens is desperate. "I need to find my son!"

"I know you do." Hailey tries to calm him down, moving closer. "You're a good father, you love your son. And we're here to help you find Dylan, alright? But you gotta put the gun down."

"Not until I find answers!" By now, both Charlotte and Stevens are crying, the girls cries muffled by the duct tape over her mouth. Stevens' hand that is holding the gun is shaking.

"Gary," the blonde detective quietly says, "you're not gonna hurt an innocent girl, are you? She's got nothing to do with this, she's done nothing to you. She's just a kid like Dylan, right?" Hailey takes another half-step closer and lowers her gun when Stevens moves the muzzle of his gun an inch away from Charlotte's head.

"Stay back!" Stevens screams.

"Okay, okay." She takes a couple of steps back, holding up her hands.

"You good, Hailey?" Adam calls from the hallway.

"We're good," she calls back. She turns to Stevens. "We're going to find your son, okay?"

The man is getting more frantic by the second, Hailey can see it in his eyes. "If this is some kind of trick, I'll kill her!" The gun is again firmly pressed against Charlotte's temple.

Hailey moves closer again, even slower than before. "Listen, I promise we're going to find Dylan, but you need to let Charlotte go."

"No!" Stevens is holding onto the gun so tightly his knuckles are turning white. "You get out until you find my son!"

"You know I can't do that," Hailey calmly says, but her voice also suggests that she's not going to budge.

"Now!" The man snarls. He raises the gun at Hailey, but before he can fully stretch out his arm or Hailey can raise her own gun at him, a shot rings out and Stevens' hand explodes in a red burst, the gun flying through the air. He screams in agonizing pain and lets go of the girl.

Hailey dives over Charlotte, who has dropped to the floor, and tackles Stevens against the wall. Adam and Kevin have already come running into the room and together they press the older man onto the floor, wrestling his arms behind his back. Hailey can only stare at the bloody mess that is Stevens' left hand, a bullet hole in the center of his palm. She lets the guys cuff him and hurries over to the weeping girl, cradling her in her arms.

"You're alright now," she whispers, gently removing the duct tape and the girl sobs loudly. Hailey then calls down the hallway. "Mitch, a little help here!" She hears loud thumping steps run up the stairs and when the breacher comes into view, she motions at him to help her get the girl up and out of the house. The big guy gets out a knife and cuts through the zip ties around her hands, then carefully picks her up and carries her downstairs and to the waiting ambulance while Hailey follows behind them. She looks over her shoulder to see Kevin and Adam dragging Stevens between them. The man's screams have quieted to distressed whimpers and cries about Henslow killing his son and she can hear Adam tell him that they're going to find Dylan.

Hailey watches from a distance as both hostage and captor are taken to the paramedics while Wade Henslow is taken away by a couple of patrol officers, probably on Hank's orders for further questioning. She startles when a hand lands on her shoulder. "You alright?"

She looks into the concerned eyes of her husband and nods. "Yeah, I'm good."

"You sure?" Jay's hand moves to her face and his thumb rubs over her cheek.

Hailey vaguely remembers having felt some blood splatter on her face. "It's not mine. I'm okay." She gives Jay a small smile. "Thanks to you."

Her husband smugly smiles back at her. "I could see the shadow of his arm through the stained glass."

"So you took a lucky shot, huh?" She raises an eyebrow at him.

He shrugs at her. "I got him, didn't I?"

Hailey can only shake her head at his confidence, but she does know that she's lucky that her husband is so good at his job. Before she can give him a retort, Mitch comes jogging up to them. "Hicks said we're moving out in five."

Jay nods at his team mate and leans down to give Hailey a quick peck on the lips. "I'll see you later, babe."

As she watches the SWAT team pack up their gear and drive off, she rolls her eyes. Typical for them to just leave while they have to stick around and tidy up the scene.

* * * * *

The Intelligence and SWAT teams meet up at Molly's that night, minus their team leaders. The big group is huddled around a couple of tables that they pushed together against Herrmann's will and Hailey watches in amusement as the teams are loudly joking and laughing – they're the loudest bunch in the bar. It's the first time the two teams are hanging out with each other outside of work and already knowing the SWAT team, Hailey is not surprised that the teams mesh well. They're all considered members of elite units and they all have big egos to boast, but both Hailey and Jay consider their teams family and those families share a lot of the same values.

Since they're the only ones who know both groups, Hailey and Jay are wisely staying quiet, watching the mayhem from the sidelines. There's not enough chairs for everyone so Hailey is sitting in Jay's lap, his arms wrapped around her waist. She is sitting sideways with one arm slung around his neck. It's nice to end the day surrounded by people who they trust with their lives.

Later on they get to talking about the day's case and how they all understood Stevens' motivation to find his son. Trey says that he'd do the same or even worse for his kids and Kevin adds that he'd be the same with his younger siblings. Adam solemnly says that he would do anything for the kids he might have in the future and Hailey watches as Kim subtly puts her hand on his knee.

"Hey." Sam nudges Jay. "When are you and Hailey gonna have kids?"

Jay chokes on his beer and Hailey laughs, patting her husband on the back while he coughs. "The fuck, man?" he croaks out.

"You've been married for like two and a half years now, don't you want little Upsteads running around?" While the SWAT team snorts at Sam using the ship name they gave them, the whole group is collectively holding back their laughs and looking at Hailey and Jay with wide eyes as they are still waiting for the couple's reaction.

Jay looks at Hailey who quirks an eyebrow at him, then turns to the group. "Listen, ah, uhm-" he stammers.

His wife giggles at him and strokes his cheek in a calming manner. She shyly looks around the group. "It's still early and I didn't want to say anything yet-"

"WHAT!?" Kim and Sam exclaim at the same time, the others having similar albeit a little quieter reactions. They start talking over each other, giving the couple their best wishes, Kim and Mitch are tearing up, Sam and Adam start arguing about who gets to be the godfather, Kevin and Vanessa are yelling at Herrmann to get them a bottle of champagne.

Trey is staring at them with an unreadable expression. He squints his eyes at them and then groans. "You two are dicks." Jay laughs out loud and Hailey hides her laugh behind her hands.

"Wait, what?" The rest of the group is quieting down and looking at each other in confusion.

"For an elite group of police officers…" Hailey shakes her head. "You did see me drink a couple of beers and all the shots that Kevin and Sam ordered, right?"

"So you're not pregnant?" Kim pouts.

"No." Jay pulls a still giggling Hailey down to kiss her, then winks at Kim. "But we're working on it."

#upstead #jay halstead #hailey upton #chicago pd #finally some swat action lol #some fluff and humor in the bonus scene #bhhfic #swat!jay au

[capricornus-rex]

The Haunt of Redemption (4)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

Chapter 4: Incoming! | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 - 2 | Previous: Chapter 3 | Next: Chapter 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

His holotable beeped, signaling an incoming message.

“Admiral?” he greeted when he answered the call.

“Sir, the transport containing the suspect has arrived. Shall I call an escort for you?”

“No need. I’ll be on my way.”

“Very good, sir. Transmission out.”

He strode through the hallways, Stormtroopers stiffened their backs until they’re erect at the presence of the Eleventh Brother, commanding officers curtly saluted when he passed them by, and he blatantly ignored the Fifth Brother and Eighth Sister in his periphery.

He arrived at the interrogation block and entered the cell where they’re keeping the captive.

It was Boss Lora.

Cal stood by the Stormtrooper and demanded the details.

“Lora Argul, proprietor of the Yewa Docking Bay & Inn,”

“And where is this docking bay located?”

The Stormtrooper glanced at his datapad, “In Hoga, sir. That’s in Cameegon,”

Cal repeated the planet’s name in a questioning tone.

“A temperate planet in the Daoro System, Jama Sector,”

“Daoro? Then it’s an Outer Rim planet,” the young Inquisitor pointed out, he stepped closer to the adult woman strapped to the interrogation machine. “Don’t bother struggling, it’s not like we’re going to set you free anytime soon.”

“Please, I don’t have anything to do with you! I’m just a business owner!”

“Oh, I know,” Cal cooed emotionlessly. “But I think you know something that I need. You might know somebody I’m looking for.”

“I don’t know anybody! My customers come and go, I only have my family!”

Lora tirelessly pleaded to Cal—it’s the same words in different order, but the same idea all in all. The young Inquisitor watched the prisoner wriggle in the torture machine, begging without a pause, until she succumbed to her tears.

Cal walked closer to Lora, a colorful woven bracelet stood out from the drab of her dark brown work clothes. He reaches for the bracelet and now his Force ability comes in play.

“Look what I made you, Mama!”

“Oh, how beautiful! Thank you, sweetheart!”

“Here, I’ll help you wear it. Do you like it?”

“I love it! I’ll always wear it so everyone can see.”

He saw the bright-eyed girl that is her daughter. The warmth of the child’s love radiated all over this woman’s being. His Psychometry allowed him to “borrow” such emotions, thoughts, and images for a period of time; he has done so to his multiple captives on their various campaigns ever since he was induced into the Inquisitorius.

Yes, he thought as he found her weakness.

“You have a very kind daughter. Kaleen, isn’t it?”

“How did you know her name?!” Lora roared.

She knew she never said anything, she only thought of her child when Cal started to enter her mind using his powers. It was something she has never seen or experienced before—and it terrified her. The wild, out-of-pace beating of her heart throbbed through her chest, any moment now she might feel it burst through.

“Oh, I should remember to apologize to your daughter personally. The little brawl in your cantina must have given her a big scare—with what her papa unconscious and her mother taken away right in front of her very eyes. Who knows what that little girl is thinking right now.”

Lora tugged herself from her restraints as far as she could until she’s eye-to-eye with Cal.

“You do so much as touch the tip of a hair strand from my daughter, I swear I will kill you!”

Cal smirked albeit concealed by his mask, satisfied that he had provoked the woman, he kept the bait hanging right in front of her until she tells him what they want to hear.

He consciously avoided the question, “You are going to tell me where you’ve seen the fugitives.”

“What fugitives?”

“You will tell me,” the smirk seemingly lost its amusement, Cal stepped closer and clutched the woman by the wrist as he demanded. “Where she is.”

At that exact moment, Lora suddenly felt like someone or something was tearing her brain open while fully conscious—the pain was excruciating, albeit the absence of the high-voltage shocks of the actual machine; Cal’s grip grew tighter, nearly barring the circulation to her hand, the next thing in Lora’s mind was you. She never intended to think or speak of you in front of this fearsome, young man—to her, it just happened.

There…! Cal celebrated sooner than he could wait.

The memory that played was your first time in the docking bay, her very first interaction with you, Lora still had that stingy tone when speaking to you. The image of you examining the ship she asked you to fix as an entrance trial and smiling back at her with a smug confidence played behind Cal’s eyes.

“Well now, I gotta say your work is impressive, kid!”

“When do I start, boss?”

There.

Your smile. Your laugh.

Even the faintest melody of your laugh came through for him.

For one, his heart skipped a beat—he saw the length of your hair has changed but your smile remained the same.

“Please…! Enough!” Lora sputtered out crying.

Cal jerked his hand away and turned around abruptly.

“Prepare my ship!” the boy Inquisitor commanded.

“Right away, sir!” a lower-ranking officer promptly replied and went ahead for the task.

“Bu-But, sir,” the admiral stuttered, hoping that it doesn’t offend the Eleventh Brother to stop him in his tracks. “What about the prisoner?”

“I leave it to you then, Admiral.”

The Eleventh Brother marched to the hangar, flanking him were two TIE pilots. Upon his arrival, the technicians have just finished recalibrating the TIE Fighters as well as his ship: a TIE Interceptor that he personally modified to his liking. The technician unclamped the docking boot of the Interceptor while his co-workers did the same for the two other Fighters.

“I want transports each carrying assault units and a squad of fighters deployed en route to Cameegon with me.”

“Yes sir, understood!” the attending officer’s heels clicked and marched to the hangar’s command center with an urgency.

The young Inquisitor climbed into the cockpit, the glass dome slid shut with the touch of a button. His fingers follow an invisible yet learned pattern of switches and buttons. There was an indescribable feeling that he cannot pinpoint with a single word, perhaps the closest being “elated.”

The TIEs’ engines hummed in a collective baritone, lights on the screen flickered to life, the ships hovered and then zoomed past the ray shield of the hangar.

—–

Meanwhile, back in Cameegon, you’ve been training in the forest for the rest of your day-off. You were out of breath, but the clean air from the trees refreshed your lungs as you inhaled and then exhaled. This expansive stretch of land has become your own haven—it’s where you mostly do your Jedi training and meditation, it took a long while for you to get used to doing them alone.

BD-1 may have kept you company while you spend your time in the woods, but it was different having someone actually with you, though you didn’t want to offend the little one so you always kept him close to you.

“Alright, BD, toss me another!”

The little white droid—perched upon a tree branch a few paces in front of you—trilled and threw the whole, rotten fruit in its claw—that you’ve installed yourself some time ago—and you went charging towards it; when the distance was enough, your heels sprang from the carpet of leaves and you somersaulted in the air, severing the target in half in the process and then landing back on the balls of your feet.

BD cheered for you in high-pitched whistles and song-like trills, followed by another string of conversational tones.

“Really? Should I have jumped a bit earlier?”

“Trill, chirp!”

“Hah, well, I really can’t tell if it’s by the second, little guy! Maybe I could borrow your scanners next time,” you joked.

The droid replied with a nervous trill, but you knew that he was only playing along.

“How’s the claw? You getting used to it or should I modify it some more?”

“Boo…” BD’s singular scope-like scanner examined the external appendage. “Woop!”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do later,”

You beckoned the little droid to come to you, it activated its little turbojets on its feet and then willingly clambered on your shoulder. You continued on with your training, cutting down the training dummies that you made out of logs and leaves—your own regimen consisted of combining new moves with learned ones, last-minute improvisations if the need arises, and inventing more styles which is a hybrid of both old and new. You liked the adrenaline pumping in you when using the environment against your “enemies.”

Afterwards, you’re traversing the terrain, knowing the twists and turns of the forest like the back of your hand—a result worth of seven months’ progress. The path that you followed was one of your personal favorites—it was still an obstacle course, but you cut through and traversed it effortlessly. You decided to banter with your little droid friend while you trekked uphill.

“Hanging in there, BD?”

“Woop! Bee-woop.”

“Oh, you think so? I sounded like him for a moment there?”

You gave a weak chuckle in response to your exploration droid’s comment. Next, it gave out a somewhat apologetic tone, to your surprise you asked him why he was sounding like that.

“No need to apologize, buddy. It’s okay, don’t worry.”

“Woo!”

“Heh, you sure perk up quick!”

You’re almost to the top. The end of the hill’s path wasn’t the real summit—at least for you. You scaled the rock face of the waterfall nearby, there were enough rocks sticking on the wall to serve as handholds and footholds. It was a quick climb to get to the top of the waterfalls, only then, you’ve really seen the true expanse of Cameegon. The sight of the lower jungle and the river delta connecting to the sea was breathtaking.

How I wish you’re here to see it. You muttered under your breath, dedicating it to Cal.

The entire view took off a heavy load from your chest. Simply look at it warranted a smile from you and a look of wonderment as if seeing it for the very first time.

“So pretty, isn’t it, BD?”

“Woo-boop!”

You patted the little droid’s head as the two of you gazed upon the majesty of the unspoiled part of the planet.

Over time, you’ve grown to love this planet because of the solitude that the trees have given you, it was your secondary comfort next to the company of your family, the Mantis crew.

Your sightseeing was disturbed when you heard machinery humming—the noise got louder by the second—and then three black ships come speeding past your view. Your eyebrows furrowed, something about them tells you that this is not your regular merchant convoy.

Their flight direction came from the east and they’re heading westward. Your eyes squinted in suspicion—you peered through your binoculars, zooming in by turning the knob resting by your thumb, until you got a better look of the silhouettes. Your lips parted open.

“Oh no…” you shuddered.

Without a second’s notice, you kicked the coil of rope sitting by the edge of the waterfall and rappelled down. You started bolting through the path in the forest, while running you try to reach Cere’s signal from the Mantis—but the wildlife was so dense that it interfered with the clarity of the signal.

“Cere! Can you hear me?! Cere, come in!”

A garbled radio frequency was your only response, but your feet kept running—it’s as if it was moving on its own—and made your way back to the ship.

The thought of the settlement suddenly entered your mind, but logically, the town is much farther from your training course in the forest—you’ll never make it in time even if you drive with your speeder’s top speed. In the middle of your combined panic and contemplation, you stumbled upon a detour and realized it too late.

You look around and find that there are no familiar landmarks around the area.

You’re lost and alone among the trees, accompanied by the chittering of unseen animals, and the apparent presence of the Empire… or the Inquisitors.

#cal kestis #cal kestis fic #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x reader fic #star wars #star wars fic #sw #sw fic #star wars jedi fallen order #star wars jedi fallen order fic #swjfo #sw jfo #swjfo fic #sw jfo fic #jedi fallen order fic #jedi fallen order #jfo #jfo fic #dark side! cal kestis #dark side! cal kestis fic #inquisitor! cal kestis fic #inquisitor! cal kestis #redemption arc! cal kestis #redemption arc! cal kestis fic #redemption arc #redemption #inquisitor #inquisitorius #dark side #dark side of the force

[fallingstormphoenix]

Chemical Burns pt 1

  “Come on, not much further…” Sam grunted as he boosted his brother up on to the tall chain-link fence.

“Careful. There’s razor wire up here.” Matt grunted back, tugging his shirt free of the sharp spikes. He got his legs over the fence and bent the razor wire to pull Sam up. Sam wedged his foot into chain-link, forced himself up and caught Matt’s hands.

“Ow…” Matt groaned as he pulled his heavier brother up, snagging his arm on blades. “Hurry! The guards will notice we’re gone!”

Sam scrambled over and the two of them tumbled from the top of the tall fence. Both got to their feet and glanced at each other briefly before hunching their backs with a low guttural growl, their eyes becoming smaller and almost lost in the thick fur that spread from their heads across their entire bodies. They shook, getting bigger and their hands turning into huge paws with long claws and their faces lengthening and teeth growing.  

Sam looked over at his brother. Matt was smaller than him, though they were twins, and his grizzly bear form, while impressive, was much smaller than Sam’s own polar bear form.

 Still, the twins gave each other a decisive nod and began running. As if timed perfectly, alarms began ringing and searchlights started sweeping the yard.

The twins were long gone by the time the guards reached the hole in the outer fence.

“Where do you think we are?" Matt questioned as the two brothers walked down the dusty caliche road.

Sam shrugged, watching the dust turned up by his sore feet. “We could be anywhere.”

“How do you know if we’re heading toward a town?” Matt wiped sweat from his brow. “I don’t. I just know we’re getting further from those psychos back there.” Sam continued walking, not looking up from the dusty road.

“Where’s do you think Daisy is?” Matt asked, squinting up at the sun.

“Kronos Laboratory, if she’s still where she got sold too.” Sam grunted. He was too focused on keeping his feet underneath him to hold up a conversation.

“With Dr. Jones?” Even in the fighting arenas the name Dr. Taylor Jones was known and feared. The stories that accompanied the name was enough to frighten the most terrifying killer.

“I don’t know.” Sam shrugged. He sniffed the air. “There's water nearby.” He ducked under a rundown barbwire fence into a cow pasture. Matt hurried to follow him.

The black Angus cows looked up at them, confused as to why these people were invading their pasture. Only their long tails moved to swish flies off their backs as they stared. Sam and Matt ignored them as they head for the small hill of dirt that indicated where a stock tank was. Suddenly they heard a low angry bellow and both brothers looked over their shoulders before their slow walk became a full-on sprint. They crested the hill in record speed and dove into the water, swimming out into the middle of the pond before popping back up, panting.

A furious red bull was standing in the pond up to his knees, snorting, and pawing but he wouldn't get any deeper. The boys tread water, breathing a sigh of relief. They did not want to be trampled or responsible for the death of anyone’s livestock.

“Well, I guess we found the water.” Matt chuckled, wringing water out of his medium-length brown hair.

Sam grunted, pulling his wet shirt off. He balled it up and threw it toward the shore. He sank down until only his head was poking out of the water, letting the coolness soothe his sunburn and the angry welts on his back and sides.  “We’ll have to wait until that bull loses interest.” He muttered, watching the angry creature quietly.

Matt nodded. “I'm not interested in being skewered with those horns.” He eyed the beast’s 4 foot spread.

Sam grunted in agreement. “How’s your arm?” He asked, his eyes closed against the glare of the sun off the water.

Matt held it up, rinse off the dried blood from the large bite wound. “It’s not oozing anymore so that’s good I guess.” Sam nodded slightly. “You’ve gotta keep it clean.”

“I know I know.” He muttered, holding his arm under the water and rubbing furiously at it. He’d glance up at the bull every couple minutes, waiting until it lost interest.

“Matt. Matt. MAAATTT.” Sam shook his brother out of his dozing.  Matt looked around, blinking tiredly. It was dark and the bull was gone. “Let’s go.” The two boys climbed out of the pond and Sam pulled on his shirt.

“Come on,” Sam whispered to Matt, nudging him.

“But the road is that way,” Matt questioned, glancing back toward the hill.

“I know.” Sam continued in the opposite direction.

“Alright…” Matt turned to follow him. “So, what are we doing?”

“I heard a vehicle. There’s some kind of house or storage unit up here. We can find out where we are and get a ride. No matter where Kronos is, we’re not making it on foot.” Sam said, continuing to head across the pasture toward a clump of trees, Matt following closely behind him.

“That makes sense,” Matt said, yawning.

Sam grunted, signaling for Matt to be quiet as they approached a light glowing in the forest. It was a small house, with its front porch light on and an old pickup truck and a UTV parked out front.

Matt slipped around the pickup to look at the license plate. “Wyoming.”

Sam silently pumped his fist when he found the UTV’s key’s in the cupholder. “Matt, come help me push this.” He whispered.

Matt nodded and came up behind the UTV, pressing his shoulder into it and pushing with all his might. Sam tugged it from the front and slowly the two of them pushed the vehicle down the gravel driveway and Matt slipped to the front to unlock the gate and Sam pulled the vehicle into the road. Matt scrambled to get in the driver seat first.  He put the key in and started the UTV. Sam rolled his eyes and clambered into the passenger side.

“Let’s go.” Sam nodded and Matt pressed the gas, launching them down the road.

Several hours later and the twins had been forced to ditch the UTV after it’d run out of gas. They continued to head west as the sun rose over the horizon. Kronos was west. In California. That’s all they knew. Under other circumstances, they wouldn't have dared to even try. It was so far to walk. They had no food. No money. And they were going in totally unprepared. They had no experience in this. Before this whole crazy terrible 16 months, they had never imagined this could've happened to them.

But Daisy was there. Their sister was there. And they couldn't just leave her to suffer. They were a family and they could never leave a family member behind. Both of them remembered the first time they set eyes on Daisy, the tiny red panda, her eyes still closed. Each of them had taken turns holding her, loving on her, stroking her fur, rubbing her fluffy tail.  They were only 4 years old themselves, but they had promised to protect her. They tried to help their parents as much as possible with her. They grew up together, they loved each other more than anything.

Which was good, since they were all they had left. There was no one there to help them after their parents were killed in that car accident. So, what they weren’t their biological parents, they were the only family that they’d had. The 16-year-old twins had fought the system so hard to try to keep their 12-year-old sister with them and when the system failed them, they had taken matters into their own hands. It wasn’t hard to live in national parks when you’re a bear. So they’d run away, living on their own for 4 years. How they’d been found was unknown. All they knew is there’d been a fire. Then a trap. Then they’d woken up, bound hand and foot, in tiny cells, shock collars around their necks, stripped down to their underclothes. They’d still been dazed when they were walked across the auction block before the sharply dressed businessmen and women, spending thousands of dollars like it was nothing, like the suffering beings before them were nothing but playthings. But when they’d heard their sister’s scream as she was pulled off the block by a man in a white lab coat, there was no pain in the world that could’ve held them back from going to her rescue. But there were too many guards, too many shock prods, too many guns. They lost sight of her, their last glimpse of her hidden by a man in a white lab coat with the words “KRONOS” embroidered in big letters and underneath in smaller letters, “North Pall, California.”

So that’s where they were headed. California. Did they know where North Pall was? No. But that didn’t matter. They were going to find Daisy. That was what mattered to them.

A storm started to come up from the south, black clouds and white lighting filling the sky. The twins both looked up, then sighed and both shifted into their animal forms. They lumbered along the road as the rain started to pour down, soaking them to their skin. They continued along the caliche road until they reached a main road. On the main road, there was a green sign pointing east. Yellowstone Park. Without a word, they lumbered their way through the park. National Parks had good hunting and Yellowstone was exceptional. Because they had bison. One bison was easily 2,000 pounds and could fill them up and they could take some with them for later.

One successful hunt later, the two brothers were feasting on the carcass of the bison bull they downed. They’d noticed a helicopter overhead and had dragged the carcass into the cover of the trees. They didn’t notice the film crew watching them from the safety of their blind.

When they finished, they each picked up two of the bison’s legs in their mouths and left the rest for the circling coyote pack. They lumbered through the densest part of the forest to avoid as much rain as they could. When they found a down tree that they could use as shelter the two of them curled up underneath it, exhausted. They’d walked close to 25 miles in a day and a half and they hadn’t slept at all since their escape.

The storm still wasn’t over when the two of them woke and continued their westward journey. When they found the highway, they shifted back into their human forms, slogging through puddles in the thin white slip-on shoes that they’d escaped in.  Cars sped past them, honking loudly. Sam and Matt just ignored them, too tired, too sore, and too miserable to even bother reacting.

It took them 3 long, painstaking, miserable, cold, hungry weeks to reach the tall concrete and concertina wire fence of Kronos laboratories.

“We didn’t plan for this, did we?” Matt muttered, huddled across the road, under a mesquite bush with Sam, watching the entrance that was adorned with two guard towers, complete with machine guns and searchlights.

Sam grunted, his eyes studying every car that passed. Which wasn’t many. They were a good 45 minutes away from the nearest town and not much drove past here.

A stray cat brushed against Matt’s leg, purring and he picked it up, petting it gently as he watched the guards walk the fence.

“Put that thing down!” Sam hissed angrily.

Matt pouted and let the cat go. The cat ran away into the bush. “Look you made it run away!”

“On what planet would I care,” Sam growled, crouching low to the ground, his eyes intent.

Matt shut up. Sam was clearly in an intent planning mood and he was disturbing him.

“At dark, we’re going to climb that guard tower and kill those guards,” Sam said sitting back. Suddenly he sat up bolt upright. “Change of plans. Matt get up.” Sam was already on his feet and running as fast as he could through the mesquite bushes, ignoring the thorns slashing through his clothes and skin.

Matt scrambled to his feet and followed him. “What is it?” He panted, chasing his brother.

“You hear that?” Sam said, stopping to listen for a moment.

“Hear what?” Matt furrowed his brow.

“The vehicle. That’s a military vehicle it’s far too big to be a normal truck and too small to be a construction vehicle.” Sam said starting to move again. “Kronos Military Research facility, did you not see that?”

“Plan, Sherlock, I just need the plan.” Matt sighed.

“We’re going to get on that truck as it passes,” Sam growled, crouching low again. “They’re getting close get ready.”

Matt nodded and crouched beside his brother. A big green gooseneck rumbled into view. As it passed the twins caught a quick view of crates in the back compartment before they chased after the vehicle. Matt made the jump first, rolling into his landing, stopping just before he would’ve slammed into the cab. Sam jumped right after him, landing directly on top of Matt. Matt stifled a groan of pain.

The vehicle turned and slowed down. The brothers held their breath as the gates soundlessly open and the vehicle pulled inside inch by inch. They got through the gate and breathed a sigh of relief before the vehicle pulled to a halt again and they heard the clatter of boots outside and guns cocking. They looked at each other, eyes wide. Matt stared at Sam, looking for some indication of a plan.

“Get out with your hands up!” A soldier bellowed.  

Sam sighed quietly and looked down. Matt stared at him, eyes wider. Sam didn’t have a plan?

“Get out now!” The soldier barked again and Sam slowly stood up, put his hands on the back of his head and stood at the back of the van, pushing through the canvas cover.

They made it all this way only to get so close and fail, only a few short yards away from Daisy. Sam felt terrible. Why hadn’t he actually planned this? He was rushing, not thinking things through, too focused on his goal to do thing slowly,

“Step down slowly!” The soldier commanded.

Matt and Sam looked sadly at each other and carefully stepped out of the vehicle. Even though they were shifters they weren’t going to risk getting shot to pieces.

The soldiers didn’t lower their rifles. “Get down! On your bellies!”

Sam and Matt slowly knelt down, keeping their hands on their heads.

They’d escaped one place, they could escape again. Matt reasoned with himself. Sam probably had a plan. Sam had to have a plan, he always had a plan.

No sooner than they’d laid down than there was a sharp ^pop^ of air and a stabbing pain pierced the brother’s hind ends. They whipped around to growl savagely at the soldiers but the drug cocktail in the darts dizzied them and they decided it… was… best………...

   The brothers woke up in small cells again. Dressed in orange scrubs and their hair still wet and smelled like antiseptic. They were in glass cells opposite each other, collars around their necks chained to the wet floor. They couldn’t stand upright the chains were so short. Matt opted to lay on the ground instead of letting the collar tug on his neck, he was so dizzy anyway. Sam was in polar bear form, trying to yank his chain from the ring in the tile floor. Water cascaded from the ceiling with every tug, the water rose in the cell. It was already up to Sam’s knees.

“Sam, no, Sam stop!” Matt croaked, getting up to his knees. “Stop! You’ll drown!”

Sam ignored him or was too infuriated to care. He continued to fight the chain, water pouring down, the cell swiftly filling. It reached his chest, then it was over his back, threatening to cover his head. Still, Sam fought the chain, his fur soaked through, barely holding his big black nose out of the water.

“Sam!” Matt screamed at him, the sound bouncing off the glass back at him. “Sam! Sam no!”

The chain finally was too short to allow Sam’s nose to reach over the water. Sam sucked in one more breath before the water covered him entirely. The light in his cell turned off and Matt was no longer able to see his brother.

Several minutes passed and Matt was certain there was no way his brother could hold his breath that long.  But still, he hoped, trying to keep the tears out of his eyes. Sam wouldn’t want him to cry for him.

Finally, just as tears were slowly starting to trickle down Matt’s cheeks as he accepted that his brother was really gone, the lights in Sam’s cell flickered back on.

Sam was still there, laying on his back as the last bits of liquid drained from the room. His huge paws up in the air. He looked so skinny wet. But the important thing was,

He was breathing.

His chest heaved up and down and he writhed in pain, choking up liquid out of his lungs. He rolled over, liquid dripping out of his nose. He gasped to breathe and choked as if the very air hurt him.

“Sam… Oh, Sam…” Matt took a shaky breath.  “I thought…” He shook his head. What kind of monster were they dealing with here? Cells designed for drowning people? The stories were much scarier now.

“Hello, boys.” The slow, quiet, calm, masculine voice came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. “Sam. Matt. Escapees from the fighting arena in Nebraska. I paid a pretty penny to your former owners to keep you…”  

#whump blog #whump trope #whump scenario #whump community #emotional whump #twins #chemical burns series #original content #failed rescue #drowning #dartings #drugging #creepy whumper

[whumpqhs]

Whumptober alt #6: Lost

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

"Looks like he's going to make it."

The words shouldn't have made her happy. Looking down at the guard as his eyes started to blink open, she should have felt like a failure, but the shame just wouldn't come. She shifted over a little so that, still kneeling at his side, she could ease one of his heavy arms over her shoulders. Across from her, another medic did the same. They counted together, and lifted together, voices in unison: "One, two, three." Suddenly the dead body on the floor was standing and stumbling, with a lot of help, over to the nearest medical bed. Assessing him and hanging his fluids from something other than her shoulder was a fantastic way not to have to think. She knew what to do for this patient, and right now, that was all that was important.

"We need labs. CBC, CMP, and troponin and creatinine levels. Whatever you have on the formulary for an NSAID, too, in case I'm right. Looks like an MI but we need the tests to know for sure..." She helped them as they repositioned him in bed, moving him up and covering him with blankets, giving orders as if she were still back home. He was hazy, out of it. She patted his shoulder. "We've got you, man, we're doing everything possible to help you. How's your pain?"

"Re... really bad..."

"Yeah? Like what number?" She looked across the bed to the one who'd been helping her lift and transfer. "Hey, I need morpha, and a syringe."

"Here."

The way they just handed it to her should've made her uneasy. It should've signaled something, the way they trusted her. It didn't. All it signaled in that moment was that she could help her patient not hurt so much. "Pushing two units and hanging the rest as a driver, as soon as I draw off these labs—you got vials?"

"Here."

“Thanks. They don’t let me put stuff in my pockets… I don’t even know if I can chart on him, he’s a guard.”

“I’ll get it. Next time, we’ll trade, and I’ll be on his IV side, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Next time.

The effect was almost instantaneous: as she pushed the first dose, her patient started to relax, settling down. His heart rate dropped into normal limits. Sonora couldn’t contain a smile as she hung the remainder of the syringe and keyed the flow rate into his IV pump. Her mind was calm and, despite her moral objections, awash with the familiar, soft, effervescent feeling of a good code winding down. Stepping away to scrub out brought her right in front of Keeper, and she expected some kind of harsh correction as he reached toward her.

His hand settled on her shoulder, soft pressure, no pain. “Good job, Epi.”

Epi.

This was bad.

But it didn’t feel bad… it felt good. She felt like she was flying, veins rushing with adrenaline, like she was doing what she was always meant to do. Who cared about a guard? He’d finish his career in this place, especially after what looked like a massive heart attack. That was a life, wasn’t it? She saved a life.

A Republic life.

Who was he before he was a prison guard? Did he see active duty? Did he kill Imperials, like her? Whose revenge could it have been if she’d let him go? But even as they walked her down to the break room and let her get crappy junk food out of the vending machine, like a real person, she couldn’t make herself feel bad. Bad wasn’t the right word. Even later, when it started to change from a good feeling to a bad one, it wasn’t guilt that crept in. It wasn’t shame, either; it was something cold and empty.

Loneliness. She’d never felt so far from other people, so directionless and utterly lost. Who was she? She couldn’t be Republic. She couldn’t bring herself to defect, not even after saving one of theirs. Was she really Imperial anymore, after today? Did living here as a prisoner count as being under duress? Even if it did count, would Intelligence believe her that she hadn’t wanted to do it? Would they believe her when she said she regretted those compressions? How could they, when she didn’t even believe the words herself? She walked to the door of her cell and knocked, determined to get her mind off of this.

“Yeah?” It was one of the other medics this time, not a guard or an SIS agent. She recognized him: he’d been in on the code. Perfect.

“I forgot to chart something. Can I borrow a datapad?” “Forgot” was the pleasant word for how Keeper had dragged her off the floor and insisted on her getting some rest. Although, she’d slept another ten hours after he forced her to drop her charting and go, so she had to admit he was a little bit right.

“I have to watch you,” he warned.

“Yeah, of course.” She nodded, and took it when it was handed over. But as she settled down, she noticed that he wasn’t insisting on being able to see the screen. She typed in the guard’s name from before, and sighed dramatically at the lockout screen that popped up.

“What’s going on?”

“Oh, you know. Access denied, all that. This is so frustrating, I forgot to get any of my documentation in… and now…”

“Here, let me see.” She handed it over to him, watching as he typed in some kind of override code and passed it back. “There you go, should work fine now.”

The guard’s chart came up without a problem. She grinned. “Thanks!”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Unfortunately, charting didn’t take that long, and the loneliness came right back as soon as her mind was free. She signed off on the note, checked the lab values—the most recent round wasn’t back yet, but the initial set pointed to cardiac arrest—and was about to log out and hand it back when she noticed the treatment team listed.

Her name was there, but so were his nurses from the previous shift… his attending provider… and Keeper’s face, next to his designation, Rongeur, and a string of abbreviations. She clicked on it, and his file opened up instead. It took a lot of restraint not to gasp. Sonora carefully scrolled down, looking through the notes, commendations, letters. It all looked regular, legitimate… seamless. A little too seamless. She finally found the clue under his history, in a list of previous meds.

Dimallium 6. 

Sonora frowned. Only one use for that: Castellan restraints. Conditioning. She paused, reaching out to touch the word with a fingertip. When she did, a dialogue box popped up.

Open previous encounter for this med?

She hesitated at first, but then reached out again, tapping the screen.

Yes.

Enter override code:_____________

Sonora frowned, then looked up and took a chance. “Hey, can you put that code in again? It won’t let me in the MAR.”

For one terrifying moment, as she handed him the datapad and let him put in the code, she realized what a terrible mistake she’d made. It could all be over, her entire life, and for what?—to look up his records? Why, when he was the enemy?

...but was he really the enemy? She had to know.

“Here, should work, it looked like it took the code.” She had to stifle a sigh of relief as he handed it back without really looking.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“I thought I saw the dose in the MAR already,” he said.

“I charted against the override. Had to fix it.”

A little sound of acknowledgement and a half-said “Ah yeah that’s annoying” was the extent of his protest. She peered into the encounter, eyes scanning, fingertips tapping to make it look like she was working on the MAR. But when she finally found the notes from the conditioning, her hand slowed. The notes were in reverse order, working backwards into the past with the most recent ones first: progress updates following his rehabilitation, implantation of new memories… and down at the bottom, she found a brief AAR about his capture… but nothing about him defecting. Frowning, Sonora worked back up from the AAR, going over everything again. Had she missed one?

She finally found the answer that she was terrified of, in the transcript from his last interrogation.

---

SIS: Last chance, Vael. You can tell us everything you know, or we’ll start cutting off fingers.

PRISONER: Do it. I don’t care.

SIS: You know you’re the sole survivor, right? All the other agents, they’re gone.

PRISONER: Like I believe that.

[Electroshock applied. Several deep cuts made to abdomen. No new information.]

SIS: What’s so special about them that you won’t talk? Even when you’re here for life, even with them dead?

PRISONER: That’s… my team… I’m… the medic… gotta take care of them.

SIS: They’re gone, Vael! They’re dead. What’s stopping you?

PRISONER: Because… th-they’re my… family. I love… them… and even... even if they’re gone, I... I... I’m not gonna l-let them down.

SIS: Oh, you’re gonna let them down, Vael. You just don’t know it yet.

[Session terminated. Will begin selective treatment with dimallium immediately. Keyword to reverse conditioning in case of emergency: Aurek Five System Yellow Seventeen.]

---

For a little while, she sat quietly, rereading the note. Then rereading it again. Memorizing the code. Finally, she backed out of the chart and handed it to the man at the door. 

“Hey, it freaked out on me or something. Started opening a bunch of other pages, I had to shut it off. I’ll finish charting tomorrow.”

He nodded, tucking the datapad away as she turned back to her bed, stretching out. As she drifted to sleep, the words from the code echoed in her mind:

What could I have done to save one of mine?

#whumptober2019 #altno.6 #lost #emotional whump #torture mention #Bitter Medicine #swtor #imperial agent

[iotaarcane]

XnationalZ

BUSY BLOW TORCHING DABS

Door doesn’t open it glides on rails like the entrance impales tracks leave scabs

They pick at them like a flurry of energy inertly imperil and in peril while sterile the enemy isn’t at his post busy blow torching dabs

Laughing gas to a mass of brain cells that might as well been in cell or for sale to sell for the fact of not being usable like loud theater patrons at musical

Stomping footsteps upsets the stairwell, Hercule as security

picks you up and while airborne you get the farewell.

A good bye of sorts a great try physically the body with a little help contorts but spiritually its dormant in hibernation protected in a fort.  The outside winds set him to the maximum miles per hour bumping over the welts.   Swelling is mainstream never go underground.  A golf club waving at lightning

A day filled with bad decisions.   A perfect life a nocturnal health freak who is slowing dying because of the hours he choose to sleep.  North of the sauna lives out of water a piranha gills with chankla….  Flip flop the hip hop to this mantra….   They got Bin Laden but the tomatoes slices cut au gratin and their insides just by general principal all rotten every good deed all but forgotten.

They attempted because it looked great on camera to have caughten Sadam but the madam of the ministry secretly had  many a body double dangling feet from noose corpse of course wasn’t who they thought they had bad DNA tests fail when not given. You’ll just straight believe without any thought or thinking in a closed space trying to identify who is stinking. This planet in that galaxy is sinking below where it once orbited and your whole existence is defined of what you afforded how toxins are absorbed y’all point the finger iota morbid.

As blood dripping on everything like a loop of hemoglobin training goblins to run tasks on apps.  Hairless ape with only a little fur missing - hand and the wrist  slice is still fresh magenta pink placenta veiny underwent chef prep,  impractical to prevent a story to end like this begin as it went, we muster the emotion to climb street curb like step, tentacle suction cup girlfriend tales like cotton swab on bunny ear manifesto.  One piece bikini transacting - posts no bill.  Open register the creditor turned into a collector, an editorial of breadwinner meanwhile back in the western hemisphere sky is too clear - cuts retina sundries colander fluid filter an array of enemies attacked the command post.  The mid morning foray angrily adjusted.  You could totally notice the moment the ward went kaleidoscope twist 33 degree.  As the crow fly viewpoint saw the west wing extend and to what seems like an elbow bend but they aint drinking consuming much of nothing except orders from the chief who dictates the whereabouts and you gotta be down cannot have doubts they don’t come in shouts - illest hand signals in the game it’s an artistic beauty to see the tic for tac counterattack he who gets the most vagina must be the Mack.  Diesel easel drawer no undies they were left in dresser drawer and if it don’t work out oh no the lawyer is not pro bono yet the retainer fixed the teeth apprehended the beef no more issues.

Him whose piss poor planning continues will be facing the sultry seductress Miss Hughes 4 feet 6 shoes opposite of the elephant of Hindus infamous for the pop ins on miscues So real was breakfast cereal mammal sauce from cashews.   Nipple hula hoop sports car aficionado drop top in the coupe where they kept the chickens.   Jumpy trampoline mouth fortune reader foreseen vulgar obscene potty lips unclean that contingency of the attorney of where wonder land on a poca dot which marks the spot.  Accuracy solar hot, lift off broke apart space shuttle heat pads over hot not matter if they were chosen or not.  Nudity not as bad as could be frontal, wide opening little exit funnel so many come backs you can’t shoot down every rebuttal.  We double as secret agents where birds are fowl and flagrant evil as the vortex in control of this spaceship.  I got it plannded see use that ladder granted to climb into the zoo – carefully pinpoint were from the top we landed snag a handful thus huck right between their eyes candid close to the nose as possible rancid so they go crazy - ape shit

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++NOTHING and LIKE it

You’ll get nothing and like it. No matter how much you despite it.

Like you wanted that new whip but you were too good for the bus so you bike it. 

Like it ever mattered – your best bud did the same inebriated on the way home dump truck made him splattered we identified the body basically because only thing left the t-shirt he wore that night tattered.   I want a hamburger – with a vegan patty in the current state of Armageddon it doesn’t look good brethren Xnational that’s why I rock the same hairdo as a Tibetan.  No a cheese burger yall overreacting on this meat is murder so is a relentless ethic of work especially when exhausted and it hurt. We’ve been threatened by a heavy weapon.  I was reading about Reagan and outline seems Pagan that’s as good for you as dippin Copenhagen spittin telling the surgeon do not beckon the question I love when my gummies are redden.  Cancer of the embouchure is more than a Horoscope sign I concur.   I want a hot dog.  Smothered in mustard covered in meat trimmings ground up chemicals as the fixings.  Bought my rhymes with a great bargain from Groupon.  Even added a discount photoshopped counterfeit coupon. Creating to the beat the loops on.  I don’t know is a Bentley a Rolls Royce because in the back seat the window lowered and I was offered grey poupon do you happen to have another choice.  Already had condiments on my weenie.  Get off my computer don’t you dare peep my documents.  My sentiments exactly the conference in regards to arguments approximates Many inter-nationalities at least 3 continents. Ancestor occupants with these words I’m a biochemist marketing guerrillas in the midst of this mist.  We the tapestry of ornaments via the internets correspondents it’s like I’m studied on my own no paperwork to show my doctorate of rocking it.  I want a milkshake mixed extra thick so it actually improves my life.  Massacre in the streets.  Soul gets fasten to the beats.  Emotion in a drum pattern.  Puts the spirit at ease changes lives makes memories.  We reminisce lacking candor look back in retrospect kinesis situational intensity convince myths as the centripetal force drifts making you cause conflicts with the dame you caressed whose early departure has you dismissed flailing arms is a fit temper tantrum get nothing and like it anthem in this for the marathon and beyond whereupon such a large portion of our population is related to Genghis Khan.  What was going on?  Mating a savage motivation bondage of ancestral astral projections.  In a succession of going with aggression. Talking too much now I’m a witness to this confession.  I didn’t want to know that nor should you want to share it - in your heart bear with it. I need to check up on what era that was. I want potato chips crisper than a whisper in a dark room embracing solitude twiddling a whisker brisker than podcast radio transistor, he was very bad only did one movie but he was a fister, turned that lifestyle around and became a wonderful listener, except after he kissed her, she fiddled his zipper, polished half handle of liquor, hand cuffs cutoff circulation like a prisoner, as she moved towards his waistline she announced OK noodle, his phone screen lit up he couldn’t get up - his unit wouldn’t get up, Here is the kicker, she addressed yours is so much pinker, than red shade of a swisher, Oh yes it is sir right when she was about to go to town cell phone screen with the rear camera face down accessed a video Oh yes Mister Fisher.  Vid featuring a debutante with oily wrist smash grab a sphincter.   Homegirl peeped it out the corner of her eye.  Jeez Louise Guy, you think she liked it, those are screams of terror why did you video tape and mic it?  Payback is real He said no no stop she said you will get nothing and like it.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Bloop Didn't Match Bleep

Flat line monitor they filed with the manufacturer to get truth because bloop didn’t match bleep

Was she dead or deep asleep it takes a large leap of courage to surpass milestones when laid out flat on  back thick as a board bright as feather totally do laps passing my stone counting per mile our style lashes out flashes of the bang - boom go sky.  They hope when it’s over something changes dramatically like a star fall macho man bar brawl telekinetic script to anyone one whom you bonded importance of existence is something you cannot deny.  

Fly by the seat of pants, advance like cash flow, difficult to rap slow, I wanna run it like you need it get roller pinned and kneaded, Hebrew jui-jitsu submission look at what his knee did.  Star of David on his playlist we turning off tech on Satur no matter bribery or how you flatter your condolences belated along with ski masks raided should of seen them coming the porch was shaded driveway isolated doctrine confirmed over something we traded urine peptide beaker foggy but perplex this –  His best amigo did too much acid like amino so when he was at cathouse heard a whore moan he could only cognate behavior to influence mood balanced hormone as the counterpoint feline payment never transacted fee to wait in line.   What skill or excellences are you pursuing how can you portray without any cueing.  Hit your marks.  Spit in pitch black fire mouth out sparks.  

It’s your energy that relay tend to take opposition and sway.  Assists their dishin’ drug addicts spinning to get spun on a mission in addition to addiction they act like they don’t lie this is no audition you’re grown why you want permission to ruin your life You see in LA a Bruin cub a forty niner in Long Beach data gets scrubbed unit information placed out of reach.   Look what the cat drug in, breeze blew in you could have been somebody a shoo in.  Migrated to Peru in a mobile pyramid amongst doubters, its like the shouters are first with inside out lower lip pouters claim to be ballers all they are is browsers knickerbockers shirtless with trousers waving a give me a freebie voucher so I roll with moon howlers now does this overwhelm like towers stimulates give us powers of the third kind and our encounters.  

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Gun Laws

-  No fun wit dem laws especially when encountering rough edges grainy surface with gun laws

-  The cause is mass hysteria because amendments put both sides into a predicament

-  Wing of the Eagle into action Xnational Activist after a sour apple up spring the people Active Fist raised above the forehead concurrently nobody wants more dead.

-  Not even the gunman but what about that run in my states Capitol Sacramento

-  Odd… Cell phone is not a weapon 20 trigger pulls the Police can act like a beast, On tempo protest Florida mad man rampaged blood everywhere escorted in handcuffs away facial expression wonder struck departed campus quad

-  Dem our rights in dat bill but that bill was proclaimed before our land fell ill Overdose of fluoride oxygen intoxicants horrible supplements processed food and diabetes from too much sugar in condiments

-  Now to fix your country don’t be chicken like poultry spend love to arrange a redeeming elixir

- This is precise calculation when you are overcrowded too many people in population the hypertension trying to keep up with what you commercially demonstrating sort of like an exchange of demon trading evil for evil soul grasp tool sickle--- Concise to arbitration overcrowded too many people in population the hypertension trying to keep up with what you commercially demonstrating sort of like is regal viper fang retention seek help contemplating like gleaming shovel off moonshine fickle.  

-  Everything even your status is the status materialism is the apparatus zero the sum on the abacus but yet the ability to function not be bullied or tempted to destroy yourself or others can be uncontrollable

-  Mental health doesn’t have a look so why they judge based on the cover texture ink print of book

-  No civilian needs an automatic machine gun.  Home protection can be accomplished with 20 gauge is plenty.  

- There are more guns in the US than people.  So agree with March for our lives.  I disagree with anything I’m not feeling and if we all could be a Democracy and meet in the middle we all should be fine with the compromise.

- First person liver body organ problem corking, ostrich keeping dome piece dipped into land chunks hoping not to get things out of proportion

-  News was sidetracked Porn Star had protection less sex with President along with a dry cleaner hanger abortion clinic minute men attacking those who look immigrated

- It’s a circle of blood you been initiated.  We do not exist in a dystopia but these large organizations can paint whatever portrait they want to fit into an agenda

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++You Can Be Anything

You are where you at in fact you could go where you want to be and you can be anything

So easy to feel like nothing complain and become doubtful with a mouthful of evil they walk in a horrible path of negativity and self-destruction same time place continuum hurting others while they just trying to get through the same as you do.  What is this reasoning?  Who created the outline?  Why if I don’t play ball can’t I get a pass down on the baseline? Appeasing you either got to be a mover and shaker or to the sideline your thrown and labeled a space waster.  Money identifies so much.  Status class how your friends and family eat continuous and fast.  Totally empty posthumous till those on top of the power structure find those beneath humorous.  Better teeth greater smile success is subjective.  I took the elective to be me why don’t you be you. Underneath all the bogus ideas and understandings  I breathe near the 14th of the month only to inhale and not exhale for another 30.  If you do business justified you can really be wealthy if you lied play dirty. Landing around the 5th I derail in a matter of moments look sick and pale living again for less than allowed.  Now the natural lines in my face is  scowled. I want to be an xnational not into whats in or rational I’ve never admired reality TV or what is force fed to me. The world is very fluid with whats not allowed how you make your bread and weather you get a box or become dust when dead.  They never said it would be like this but they never stated it wouldn’t or couldn’t I’m tired of the chosen getting a vote I never balloted giving me basically 2 options on major decisions unanimously untalented more than perfected for the future while living slithering past the masses until something so major happens to a loved one a ugly ungloved one frozen in the headline archived content someplace indefinite it is about time.  Dig through scorched Earth.   Charred ground far fewer giblets in the stew to see self in mirror the spoon is wooden and sipping left a splinter too difficult to survive this nuclear winter.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++To Get Bye

Chatted with an annoying carcass inverted in Caracas on an apparatus and we agreed about this

You’re all I need to get buy

-  The voice don’t know but like a bass line I record in mono Remember before I kissed a girl I got mononucleosis and this in general gave me a neurosis if I haven’t kissed how the heck did I get mono

-  Punctuality arriving pronto seconds click nimble with the fingertips pulling a combo characterized in metabolic state ketosis

-  Fasting near or around roses favorite floral Lotus.  To get by stay fly no aeronautics my aerobics consists of verbal trampoline pounce the guardrail carine upon the jet strip Don’t Trip.

-  Landing gear engaged to get by clearance from the air traffic controller, just this style is me high roller tip toeing soldier avoiding ebola maintain employment meeting or exceeding quota.

-  To get buy you need straight cash homie loads and loaves of bread cheddar or whatever Hamilton greenbacks, paper guap of franklin will do

-  To get by Your Blessing will be thee necessity sky beautiful.   Open heart to keep it plain and simple more than the crease unfolding the ripple

-  To get by clean water fresh air healthy food the ability to create mobility infinitely friends family meditation agility stretching.

-  Concept of these scriptures stacks all the to the back of literature willingness be the finesse all this and that’s success

-  To get by why try easier to complain make it artificial cause others through the tidal waves stress and strain

- Sitting on your knees sneaker heels tap the back of your button ups Long Barrel at temple.  Imagine the thoughts before you’re executed.   That process of it’s over.  Can you fanaggle?   Use communication for survival last chance come at them sideways like a tooth that snaggle

-  This snag will either end your current existence begin into a newish dimension an entrance how did these doors swing open? Never let them see you moping. Laugh in the face danger many elements to this for coping.

-   Change is a guarantee and you can’t get much of anything so constant.  Who can adapt the fastest?   Chip up as soon as society is cashless.  Global position the system while mapless.  I’m going to flow more rap less.

-  Concubine colorful sword edge dull, The Ktown market I copped it at in the China shop bull.     Tea party porcelain porcupine alarm module.

-  iota needs some soda caramel color cola so the bubbles can fix my upset tummy stay scummy my friend is a sin and not funny Lowest on totem pole that explains the mischievous grin

-  Never find work attitude be the jerk stay going bizerk at the store with the clerk make it impossible for them to accomplish the mish undertone a smirk relentless and abscessed until they fail find out it all evolved from silly little games your repercussions wrong answer given to test

-   Well rounded knew how art felt, Chemicals were spilt and the fumes of the 2nd story would melt.  Heartfelt never dealt a hand like that patience is all precious up til you are the doctors patients and he truly evil terrorize a boll weevil wore wild long tail lab coat crazy colors of crayon except no cotton all rayon and he would lay on the guilt deprive of medication till the truly ugly wanted to be killed subconsciously the whispers You’re all I need to get by…..

#hiphop #album #iota #arcane #xnationalz #rap #bandcamp #spotify #poetry #poems #flows #rhymes #iotation #iota_arcane #iotaarcane #experimental #avantgarde #intellectual #itunes #djnamo #boombap #create #writing #creative writing

[dothewrite]

Ringleaders - Chapter Four.

Here is the original ask for this prompt. Here is the announcement for this project!

Prologue. Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three.

[A monstrously sized chapter. I’ve little clue where this even went, but neither do they. Recommended listening is Sober, by Lorde. Now edited.]

“This wasn’t in the information packet I got in the mail,” she comments mid-punch. Her fists meet their mark, and her target crumples to the left. She shakes her hand out to ease the tightness in it. “Sorry, I wasn’t-“ she explains to the pained, confused man, “there’s a guy in the back. I’m talking to him.”

Too close to unconsciousness to register her answer and too angry to mouth her off, the man’s face is stuck at the same level of incredulity until the moment he blacks out.

Kuroo, on the other hand, watches this all happen with a wicked grin on his face.

Apparently feeling differently, she gives his shadowed figure behind the alley corner the third sigh of the evening.

“Got something on your mind, lovely?” sneers Kuroo. It’s convincing enough that she convulses and the edges of her mouth curl up in disgust.

“I’ve got a good reason why I’m not walking through the main streets. Please don’t do that here.”

“Oho?” He pushes off his precarious ledge- someone’s abandoned air conditioning unit offering just the right amount of leverage- and lands into view. Her gaze follows him without hesitation, a smooth transition from invisible to the seen, and Kuroo’s the one to feel an involuntary shudder this time. “I wouldn’t think you’d be the type old men whistle at.”

“Really now?”

“C’mon. You dress like the grim reaper.”

Her reluctant grin is contagious, and Kuroo can feel his lips tremble at the effort not to smile along with her.

“Like you’re any better,” she bites.

“Hey, I’m going for the dark and mysterious thing, and it works.”

“And I’m going for the ‘let’s not get caught by more thugs than I already do’ thing. It’s not working as well as I’d like it to with you skulking around.”

Kuroo shrugs. He nudges said thug’s prone head out of the way with the tip of his shoe before reaching down and searching through the pockets. “I’m skulking successfully. Nobody notices me, so whatever attention you attract, it’s all on you.”

She doesn’t rise to his goading, and he chooses to ignore the relentless burn of her stare on his back. It’s calculating in the quietest of ways, and the more his fingers dance past people’s coats and inner pockets, the more he feels like he’s disappointing her somehow. And that thought toughens him.

Any trace of a smile is gone by the time he stands up with a half-empty wallet and a broken cell phone.

He doesn’t meet her eyes, and she doesn’t ask him about his finds.

“Let’s keep moving,” he offers, and he feels rather than sees, her nod.

Kuroo knows that whatever she doesn’t say is right, in the end. After their last encounter, he had given the outlines for the information packet himself- a tiny, dull thing slipped into an encrypted email as an equally encrypted pdf file. Kenma had placed the finishing touches on a tracking cookie stuck onto every possible item before kissing it goodbye.

He remembers her face the afternoon she’d received it. It had been a face he’d pretty much expected: troubled by the security, irritated at the lack of useful information, but yet inexplicably thrilled at the thought of being complicit in something bigger than oneself- something that can change a life in the blink of an eye. It was everything he’d experienced himself when he had first built this whole venture from scratch, and Kuroo had spent the rest of the day feeling torn between smugness and a pervasive sense of possessiveness, that his feelings should be his own, and his alone.

He’d closed himself off from her after that afternoon, offering only polite nods in the hallways and abandoning his usual alley jaunts. After their meetings ended, Oikawa had sent him odd glances mixed in with the occasional knowing ones that had set Kuroo’s teeth on edge. Yet nothing would compare to her expression.

He could look at her right now, if he chooses to. On pale planes, exclusive to unhealthy shut-ins, he’d find the cumulation of all his poor choices and a smattering of her own. She’d agreed easily enough when he’d finally been prompted by Sawamura to give her an introduction or trial run, or anything if he’s to stick to his word, but her ‘yes’ had been lined with weeks of brittle tolerance, and Kuroo had left that encounter feeling as if he had lost to her again.

One behind the other, the odd pair follow the soundless flashing of a small GPS signal, leading them closer towards the open street. He watches as she pauses to take in a deep breath before venturing a first step out into the faux light of a dying city’s indomitable nightlife.

“He’s bar hopping.” She gives her phone a last glance before tucking it into the safety of her back pocket. “We’ll probably be walking this street for a while.”

“That’s fine.”

It’s not all fine. He lets himself close his eyes for a single moment and chases his dissipating peace by its tail, determined to memorize its grooves the best he can.

She watches him with a curious tilt of her head, and Kuroo pulls himself back to Earth with a few blinks before baring himself open with a flash of a smile. “Lead on,” he says.

She does, and they fall into a strange sort of rhythm that only circumstance can offer on its strangest of days. Kuroo stays a step behind her, knowing fully that he’s the reason for her tense shoulders and her twitching fingers against her thigh, but nothing that easy stops him.

At least, that’s what he thinks, until he finds himself stuck in a damn awkward silence. Despite being in an entirely separate set of circumstances, her aversion to polite conversation obviously hasn’t changed, and Kuroo once again is the one who must break the solid ice.

“Got any questions about the file we sent you?” He tries.

Innocuous, but the slope of her back eases and he knows that she’s relaxing at his expense. You talk a lot, don’t you, her movements seem to say.

“There wasn’t a lot in it,” she says, sounding serene, “do you want actual questions, or family friendly ones?”

Kuroo has a laugh sneaked out from under him, and he takes just half a step more so that he can catch the edges of her expressions. She’s smiling, he thinks, and that earns her several points.

“Let’s lube things up before we shove the whole thing in.”

“Alright.” Yeah, she’s definitely smiling. “First things first then. Pictures.”

“No,” Kuroo answers speedily. “That’d be too easy.”

“It’s natural curiosity, you gotta give me that.”

“Sure, sure.” He shrugs. “But you’ve got a good imagination. We aren’t a dating sim, so we don’t provide profiles, sorry.”

“Says the main character?”

They end up sniggering so loudly that several couples- or sex friends, who the fuck knew- give them odd looks and start to shift further away.

“You find me funny,” she beams underneath a hand.

Kuroo catches it, and sobers up quickly.

“Well,” he clears his throat, “I can’t help that I’ve got a sense of humour.”

“Just not around me,” she confirms quietly, and Kuroo looks away. To hell with proving her point.

She turns her head almost fully to watch him squirm, and sighs again. Softer, sadder. She chooses to ask something different this time, something that won’t make him laugh, if that’s what he wants so much.

“Okay then. So is ‘this’,” she gestures between the two of them and then out at the street, “an interview? A real time dig through my dirty laundry?”

“We’ve got limited qualified personnel,” Kuroo says blandly, “so bear with it, if you can.”

Her head falls, watching the uneven stones in front of her feet. A stream of vibrant indigo club lighting pulses across her ear and down her throat. “I’ve got nothing to hide. I promised so.”

“Yeah, we know.” His voice softens, taking on the tone of a doctor offering condolences for personal tragedies. “But dirty laundry sticks, and we can’t be sure of your brother, still.”

“…I understand. So what did you find in the pocket of the guy earlier?”

Kuroo flicks the thin wallet over her head and she snatches it out of the air. It’s a common wallet, brown, boring, and nothing but several credit cards and an identification are tucked between its folds. She tugs it out and turns it over in her hands.

“Are you going to run this through a search?”

“No. This guy’s just a jilted lover. Your brother probably stole his target, or something.”

“How-“

Kuroo pulls out a large assortment of condoms in a plastic bag and a poorly capped bottle of lube from his pocket and places it soundly in her palms. “Same size, different flavours. He’s just looking for a good time, I think.”

“It’s leaking,” she says with horror as the small bottle gives a miserable sounding squelch, “and you had this in your pocket? I’ve got tissues. Do you need a tissue?”

He hates himself a little more for grinning again, but doesn’t comment.

She takes the chance to deposit that find into the next rubbish bin she sees. “My fingers feel nasty.” She sneaks a glance at Kuroo inviting coat, and he quickly takes several steps back when a sly smile creeps over her face.

“Touch me,” he says firmly, keeping both hands out of his pockets at the ready, “and you’re paying for a new coat.”

“Stingy.” But her cheeks are burning trying not to laugh, and Kuroo deflates when she tugs a tissue out from a packet and wipes her fingers.

“Oh, you’ve got the wet wipes.” Kuroo finds himself leaning in. “Disinfecting?”

“Yeah,” she turns the packet over to peer at the small print, “anti-bacterial, disinfecting. These are pretty good, if you’re looking for a brand. I don’t trust Clorox much, they smell too fruity.”

“Really? It makes my kitchen smell pretty nice.”

“Well,” she taps at her chin with the edge of the plastic wrapper, “I suppose it feels better to cook smelling like lemons rather than a hospital.”

“Jeez, what do you use? Rubbing alcohol?”

“A Japanese brand,” she sniffs, and Kuroo thinks that she sounds a little wounded, “I think they’ve got better hygiene than the Americans.”

“And you just dissed a whole country. Nice going,” he snorts.

She turns mid-step to grin at him, and Kuroo almost trips over his feet at the sudden warmth of his cheeks, unbidden. “And what are you going to do, protagonist?” She asks. She’s the brightest thing in the whole damn street when she’s laughing. “Arrest me?”

Kuroo doesn’t trust himself at all to say something he won’t regret, like: But you won’t be smiling like that if I did, would you? Or, kinky. Or even, I might if you dared me again.

He shakes his head.

That’s enough to please her- anything more than his typical silence when he’s faced with something he finds too awkward to answer, and she faces forwards again. This time it’s crimson against her collarbone and all the way up her temples, the glare of shameless brothel lights bathing her as if she were one of theirs.

“Will I get to meet them?” She asks.

“The profiles?” He confirms, a little thrown by the sudden change in topic. “You’ve got to work your way up if you want to have a reason to. You’re still on trial.”

“Parole, more like,” she mutters. “But I’m stuck with you, aren’t I?”

“I’m a special case.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she answers smoothly, “so if it’s as you say, how does it usually go for nobodies like me?”

“You’re not nobody,” Kuroo corrects irritably, “you’re just new.”

She pauses and then shakes her head, looking chastened. “Sorry,” she says, and it’s so quiet that Kuroo has to dip closer just to catch it under her breath. “Bad habit.”

She offers no more, but her obstinate silence doesn’t stop Kuroo from watching her a few moments, searching.

To him, the concept of self-pity feels like an old friend returning home, and finding the locks changed. Kuroo can no longer remember when he’d taken a long enough break from his relentless war to welcome back childhood ghosts.

“We’re just people,” he finds himself reminding her, “and you’ll get to meet them soon enough. That is, if they don’t find you first.”

“All men are not born equal.” She shakes her head. “But I suppose you’re right. I must’ve become someone worth finding because of you.”

“The work of chance,” Kuroo assures, “and I’m not really that awesome, I’ve just got nosy friends. If it were you, you’d do the same.”

She glances at him searchingly, but turns to rove through the pulsing street when she finds nothing.

“I suppose I would. But I don’t have many friends. Not like you do.”

Kuroo blinks several times, before smirking. “It’s hard to if you’re cooped up in your room all the time. I told you at orientation that school isn’t everything, didn’t I? Make some friends, first year, and illegal orgs don’t count.”

She cracks up at that, ineffectively muffling her laughter with her phone in one hand. Its flashing red GPS light hasn’t moved much.

“Responsible ‘till the end,” she grins, “you’re better a guide than I’d ever be. God help me if I end up with your job in two years.”

“And what would you say, hm? Toss an anthology at their heads and tell them to use it if they ever need a paperweight?”

“I’d advise them against making friends,” she says dryly, “because social interaction is a heavy burden.”

“Oh,” Kuroo says in a voice that increases the chances of him getting punched in the face exponentially, “so cool.”

“We are what we are, Kuroo Tetsurou.” She flicks her heel at him, which he dodges lazily. “And not all of us can be anarchist edgelords.”

“At least I’m king.” He grins.

“What irony.”

Kuroo doesn’t disagree with that. They both walk on, each with their own wry smiles at the misguided corners of the world. “Any more questions?” He adds. “No pictures, and no addresses, but you can ask. We’re not particularly cloak and dagger in person.”

“Only in emails, then.”

“Only in emails,” he agrees, “and other traceable forms of documentation.”

“Well,” she taps at her chin with a blunt nail, “who’s your favourite?”

“I hate them all.”

“Alright, alright, so no personal questions either. But I’ll figure you out sooner or later, just so you know.”

He daresay she might very well end up doing so, but his lips remain sealed, and he only blinks once, very slowly, when she narrows her eyes at him. She does a little twirl on the spot and gazes up high, racking her brains for another question.

“If you let me join, properly,” she asks slowly, “who would I be under?”

Quickly, Kuroo tries to remember what exactly had been in her information doc. Probably not more than what the average middling recruit would get, thanks to Tsukishima’s meticulous standards, and he isn’t too keen on getting himself chewed out for spilling.

“They told you about the divisions, right?”

“Yup, the training system, options for lodging, operational divisions and the general hierarchy of recruits,” she says. “Training for newbies, lodging for strays, and units under one coordinator for various purposes such as recon, fights, and general troublemaking.” She counts them off one by one on her fingers. “I hope I’m troublemaking.”

“You’re enough trouble as it is.” Kuroo shakes his head. “But didn’t they give you their names?”

“You mean the codenames? Yeah, it had them,” she shrugs, “but I’ve forgotten. Must’ve not been very creative ones.”

Which does not surprise him in the least. Their steps have slowed to a therapeutic stroll, and something in the way she swirls her head to and fro in a dance alongside the neon lights that tells him that not only is she the first to ever have forgotten, she’ll also be the last.

The smile comes to him, and he doesn’t fight it. “I’m flattered you even remembered my name,” he says.

“And I was worried when you remembered mine,” she replies, but there’s a soft peach resting underneath her eyes, and no matter how closely Kuroo peers, he can’t figure out if it’s her skin or the night lights. “But I guess it turned out okay in the end.”

He has to clear his throat when the first sound he tries to make sounds like he’s being split in half.

“Well.” He launches into explanation. “There’s Raven and Dragon, which, if you’d bothered to pay attention, are in charge of the training and lodging, and the ops, respectively. Then there’s, uh… Otter, in charge of IT. We got to him if we need hacking, or if, you know, we need help turning it on and off again. There’s also Dog and Owl, they’re all ‘sneaky sneak’ and also the reason why we haven’t been all arrested yet. Eagle’s the guy you don’t want to piss off- he does all the heavy duty stuff, keeping the bad guys at bay and all that. And last but not least, there’s Tiger. A man who is almost the exact opposite of a tiger, he’s an organizational freak who keeps us oiled and running. And there you have it.”

“Animals.” She watches blankly as the ground moves underneath her feet. “Original. At least that explains why I don’t remember any of them.”

Kuroo rolls his eyes and plucks the phone out of her hands. She makes a sharp ‘hey!’, but he ignores it. “Dude, we’re a bunch of grown men. We’re not going to get more creative than ‘what’s your favourite animal’. Did you expect us to pick our drag names or something?” He clicks his tongue scathingly at the thought. “‘Hi, I’m your leader, but you can call me Karen.’”

She’s laughing. Definitely laughing. Kuroo wants to sew her mouth shut.

“It’s better than your favourite colours,” she offers. It’s an olive branch that’s almost half dead, but he takes the damn thing and doesn’t retort. God help them if they named themselves into the fucking gay power rangers, with all seven colours of the damn pride flag.

“To answer your question,” he says, firmly, “I’d put you with Dragon. It’d be a waste of time training you when you already know what you’re doing.”

She leans backwards slightly, a surprised look on her face. “I thought you said I’d fight better with fewer wasted movements?”

“Yeah, you would,” replies Kuroo, “but that’d be actual combat training, and it’s three hundred quid for private sessions.”

“Really?”

“No. But you get the gist.”

She hums, low and drawn out as she contemplates the information. Her fingers tap rhythmically against her thigh. “I guess with you around, I’m getting freebies from the master.”

That makes him snort, and he waves his hand across his face. “I’m far from being the master. I’m… in the middle, if you have to make a list.”

Her eyebrows rise, and continue to rise, until Kuroo begins to wonder if they’ll ever come back down.

“If you’re the middle, then-“ she stops, stuck on the reality of the statement, “wow, then I’m pretty shit.”

He peers at her out from the corner of his eyes, and sighs. She catches her phone just in time when he tosses it at the back of her head.

“You really need to get rid of that bad habit of yours,” says Kuroo, “but you’re above average. You realize that you’re comparing yourself to people who fight for a living, right?”

“Oh, I see,” she exhales, “so some of your members fight for a living.”

Kuroo’s expression sours.

“Well, that teaches me not to make you feel better next time.”

It isn’t all true. Kuroo’s bad mood is mostly voluntary, and from the way she’s staring at him, he warrants that she’s aware of that too. That he’s not the type of person who would let anything slip between his cracks. He has no cracks. Only blocks upon blocks of barricades.

That’s why when she reaches out with two frail looking fingers, he doesn’t pull away. He watches as she pinches his sleeve between her thumb and her index finger, and tugs ever so slightly. They resume their walk, with him beside her, and she lets go when he feels closer again.

“I’m not going to say anything to anyone,” she says.

He knows. That’s why he did it.

“I wasn’t going to do anything with you, you know.” He watches for her reaction, but there isn’t one. He doesn’t want to think about how she’d expected him not to in the first place- that she’d bared herself for him, for a losing bet. “It was Owl who convinced me, in the end.”

A lime green caresses her waist and dances up against her temples, disappearing behind them along with the crowded Subway.

She turns her head, and he’s privy to a quiet smile. It’s the first time he’s seen her seem so gentle.

“Then please tell them ‘thank you’ for me.”

Kuroo thinks of Akaashi’s impassive face and his all-knowing eyes.

“He’d say that there’s no need to thank him,” says Kuroo, “but I’ll let him know.”

She bows her head in gratitude. When she raises it again into the light where Kuroo can catch her expressions once again, there’s a mischievousness in it that unsettles him.

“It sounds like there are quite a few members nicer than you, aren’t there?” She wonders.

“Is that a question, or a statement?” Kuroo scowls. She chuckles at his almost constant moodiness, and reaches out to give him a conciliatory tug on the sleeve. When he lets his scowl relax on his face, he takes note of her small slump of relief.

“Neither,” she says softly, “and just for the record, I think you’re nice. Even if you forget that you are sometimes.”

Kuroo yanks his jacket out of her reach, and she doesn’t move to touch it again.

They pass several stores in this fashion. He counts: two brothels, three and a half bars, half off on Wednesday nights, one club, two vomiting passers-by, and four couples having sex against a wall. When he reaches out to tap her on the shoulder, he’s startled when she’s startled, and he expends a burst of willpower simply not to snatch his hand back like an injury.

Kuroo gestures at the tightly gripped phone in her hand. “Where’s your brother now?”

Frowning at the instrument, she pushes at the touchscreen until it’s large enough for her to read the words under poor fluorescent lighting. “Room 5. That’s a club two blocks away.”

“Must’ve finished pre-gaming in bars then. It’s what now, two?”

“Two thirty,” she corrects, “and I know what you’re thinking. My brother’s a hedonist.”

“A hedonist at risk of serious liver failure,” adds Kuroo wryly, “but I guess it’s not my problem.”

She sighs heavily, slumping forwards when it all leaves her in one breath. “It wouldn’t be mine either if I knew what else to do.”

He eyes the blinking dot, now firmly located in a club and unlikely to leave anytime soon, and pulls her to one side. “And your parents?”

“Dead.” When Kuroo only presses his lips together, offering no condolences, she grins. “They were drug dealers; can you believe the irony?”

“Irony’s sick in the head,” says Kuroo. He towers over her frame, and staring at the crown of her head down to the shadow of her nose, he dares, just this once, to rest his hand on it in comfort. He doesn’t lift it, and she remains still. “For what it’s worth, I think you turned out pretty okay for such a shit start.”

“I bet you say that to all the strays,” she laughs. Kuroo’s hand-rest sinks underneath him, and he glances down to see her rest her weight against the grimy wall. “But still, thanks.” She smiles, just enough for him to catch.

When you’re in a street as busy as this one, as late as this one, pockets of air begin to pop up for tireless people to swim up for an easy breath. Kuroo, along with her stoicism, carves a little corner of solitude for themselves in the midst of Dante’s second circle of hell, and he lets the white noise over them awash.

Kuroo flexes his fingers, tightening then stretching out experimentally against the black spilling down her neck, and lets the hubbub linger a little longer while it can. His eyes wander through the streams of people- some old, some young, some in love and some high beyond belief- but, his citizens. A mess of bodies and lost minds wandering into the waiting arms of an expensive woman, crushing their torsos against each other in a beat that drowns out their lives and swallowing liquor with a fervor that doesn’t allow them the time to taste it.

This is no place to think, not against these brick walls that haven’t been scrubbed in years, stinking of piss and possible dysentery, but it’s amongst the many that the one is invisible. Kuroo really rarely comes here, finding it hard to function drunk and hard to fight in plain sight, but the images flit through his mind all the same. Through her eyes, this must be closer than home.

He hopes- just a small hope- that her shithead of a brother doesn’t make this back-end orgy the last place she ever sees him.

Neither of them keep track of time for as long as the red dot stays where it is. Yet inevitably, a pair of naked women come crashing down on them in a tangle of limbs, a high-pitched screech and a drunken giggle that gurgles with a toilet flush.

She must’ve caught the alarm on his face because she pulls him out of the way with a sharp tug on his wrist, and begins to smother her laughter.

“First time seeing naked lesbians?” She teases.

“No.” God, his eyes are closed and he can still see their bare asses. “First time mid-orgasm next to street signage? Yeah.”

She laughs even harder, patting him solidly on the shoulder. “You’re in luck. If they were gay, you might end up getting a facial.”

Kuroo shoots her a filthy glare that she accepts with grace.

“Fuck off. I’m not letting a stranger’s whiskey dick near my face without ripping the miserable meat tube off.”

A wicked sheen sharpens her grin. “Oh? Only a stranger’s?”

But Kuroo Tetsurou is too great a man to be moved by such feeble mockery. “All interested friends get a pass, but only tested applicants need apply.” He taps the tip her nose. “Safe sex, boys and girls, safe sex.”

She considers this. “I do admit that out on the streets isn’t very safe. I’d suggest a pretty popular love hotel three blocks down left. They hand out complimentary condoms if you book the suites.”

“The fuck are you? The local tour guide?”

“Oh, Kuroo. Knowledge is power.”

“Fucking- yeah, and alcohol is relief. I need a drink if I want to forget that image within the next decade or so.” He cracks an eye open to peer at her GPS. “If your brother isn’t moving anytime soon, you need to take us to a bar.”

“Okay.” She shrugs. “What are your preferences? Strippers? No strippers? Hot bartender?”

Saying absolutely nothing, Kuroo stares at her for as long as it takes for his disbelief to fade, and for her to stop being a piece of shit. She cracks a smile before beckoning him to follow with a hand, which he does.

They arrive past two small corners, and when she pushes the door open for him, whatever apprehension he had that had accumulated this evening, vanishes.

It’s a subtle dip in the middle of a busy street, tucked away into one of those pockets of quiet, and several well-dressed patrons float in and out with both weight and lightness of a tipsy weekday night. A haven of gold light seeping through the cracks of the door and its hinges, Kuroo watches with baited breath as it spills over into the dark greys, sickly limes and glaring rose splattered across the floor in rays.

He takes two steps inside, and she slips in behind him, closing the door carefully with several fingers. The bartender gives her a smart wave and a secret smile, and Kuroo’s about to spin around and ask if she comes here often, until something even louder catches his attention.

“Kuroo!”

He could recognize that voice anywhere. No one else has such a resounding shout that clogs your ears for days. “I thought that you were a bourbon-at-home kinda dude! Nice seeing you here, man!”

Aware that he now sounds like a closet alcoholic to his companion, he ignores the speculative gaze of the sage looking bartender and slides into the seat next to Nishinoya.

She hovers uncertainly at the other end of the bar, and shuffles forwards only when Kuroo beckons her into the seat on the other side of him.

“You look… really different tonight, Noya-san.” Kuroo observes, inspecting the unnaturally slick looking slacks and dress shirt. “Your hair’s down too.”

Nishinoya grins hugely, and props a thumbs-up. “Thought I’d try to fit in tonight, with stuff going on and all. I ‘aint gonna be a good supervisor if I were slumming it out in the clubs.”

“Now that I can imagine you doing,” grins Kuroo. “I’m here on business too. Not to get drunk.”

“You did say you wanted a drink,” she points out from two seats away. The two men swivel around as if only remembering that she’s there with them, and she meets their gazes shyly. “Trivia.”

In that moment, something in Nishinoya’s mind clicks, and he brightens visibly when the correct thought comes to him. He nods confidently and sticks out a hand in greeting.

“You must be the Missus that Kuroo’s monitoring!” Nishinoya declares. “Nice to meet ‘cha, I’m Nishinoya Yuu, but you can call me Noya like everyone else does.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Noya.” She shakes his hand, and he leans back, satisfied. “I hope I’m not disturbing anything.”

“Not at all,” he reassures her, picking up his glass and giving it a cheeky wave in the air, “I’m just here killing time. Until the two of you showed up, I was bored out of my mind.”

Kuroo sighs, and gives Nishinoya a light slap on the back. “That’s called slacking off, my working-class employee. What are you here for anyway?”

Nishinoya pauses for an imperceptible moment, his sharp eyes snapping over to her curious expression, but when Kuroo shows no other reaction except for leaning back on his two hands, he shrugs. “Rookie ops night. First recon mission for their trial period. Just my luck that it’s this street too- I can’t be bothered to follow them around past all the sin outside.”

Kuroo laughs at the description, letting the low chuckles tumble out of him in somersaults. “How many?”

“Just five, tonight. They’re younger, so I’m splitting them up before they get themselves shit-faced by accident. The same rules as grade school field-trips, y’know?” Nishinoya leans closer, over Kuroo, and snaps a finger-gun at her. “I heard that you were the one Kuroo bumped into when you were looking for this group of kids! Man, Daichi had a field day when he saw you.”

“Daichi?”

This time, Nishinoya does look over at Kuroo properly, waiting for either a red or green light. Kuroo keeps his lips pressed shut for an agonizing while, his brows scrunched up as if in great pain. He gives Nishinoya a weary nod.

“Alright,” Nishinoya says slowly, gathering his wits about him next to a touchy Kuroo, “Daichi’s the dude who drove the van.”

She fixes Kuroo with a pensive stare, and slowly shakes her head. The disappointment in the creases of her face are tangible, but her voice betrays none of it, only an iron patience. “I see. You don’t have to tell me more than that, if it’s for the better. I’ve had my chance to ask my questions tonight.”

“You sure about that?” Nishinoya asks, “it’s rare that you get this guy’s permission for anything.”

She smiles. “I’m sure.”

And Nishinoya laughs. Several patrons jump at the robust sound, but the bartender only smiles out the corner of his vision. Noya turns to face her properly, intrigue dancing through his fingers and he taps them restlessly against the counter. “’Aight then. You like whiskey?”

“Better than vodka,” she answers, surprised by the sudden change in topic.

Both men nod vigorously.

“Vodka’s swill,” Kuroo mutters, “but I’m not saying that any louder in case I get dragged out and beaten.”

Nishinoya pulls out another thumbs-up, looking proud to be sitting next to two soul-friends. “Two Rusty Nails here, Chikara!” The bartender bobs his head wordlessly and begins to work with a sparkle in his eye. Nishinoya winks at her. “You’ve earned yourself a good drink, Missus.”

Kuroo groans when he sees the tell-tale twitch of her lips about to start giggling. “Motherfu- Noya-san, please. Stop calling her that.”

Nishinoya looks even happier when he’s told expressly not to be. “Hang around each other long enough, and you’ll be the mob boss’ wife sooner or later. You heard it from me first, okay?”

“We’re not a mob, moron.”

“Right.” He nods firmly. As she watches, she’s beginning to learn that something dangerous is about to happen whenever Nishinoya smiles in that exacerbated, excited way. “We’re cooler than a mob.”

“Amen to that.” Both Kuroo and Nishinoya chuckle in their private joke. “But don’t let Ush- uh, that guy, hear you say that.”

“He’s a good man,” Nishinoya insists, “if he were to beat us for each time we talked shit about him, our bodies would be unidentifiable in a harbor by now.”

Kuroo smiles, and if anyone asked him if it was fondness in his voice, he’d cut out their liver. “Yeah. He’s a good man.”

“You two sound like you’re in love.” The two men jolt out of their thoughts at the sound of the laughter in her comment, and the tinkle of ice against their drinks. “I’ll leave if I’m interrupting,” she offers.

“It’s too late for that,” Nishinoya grins, “and since you’re not asking for more info, we’ve to give you something else to stew in when you get home, right?”

Kuroo sits back with his drink and watches as she searches Nishinoya’s unwavering grin for lies, only to find none. Still, he considers, there’s truth in Noya’s words. Nothing cataclysmic has tied itself to her yet this evening, and she had done everything that he’d asked. Including the bar, including the drink, and had pulled herself out of a reluctantly given opportunity for the details that she’d craved for ardently in their convoluted exchanges. It’d be poor manners, and he can hear Akaashi’s exasperated voice telling him so in his head.

He waits until she’s taking her first sip, and jerks his thumb in Nishinoya’s direction. “He’s Dragon,” he says, “and Sawamura- the van-driving Daichi- is Raven. We’ll be figuring out what we can do with your skill set in our next meeting.”

She almost chokes her mouthful. “Dragon…” Her eyes widen. “Ah, the Ops! The one you said you’d put me with.”

“Yup,” Dragon brightens, “you’ll get to work with me, lucky duck.”

Kuroo’s relieved when she relaxes at the announcement, and falls into a quiet that isn’t unfriendly, only contemplative.

Nishinoya watches her with his blinding enthusiasm masking his scrutiny. Wasting not a second, calculations flit through his mental data as he prods here and presses there until she’s a file in his compartments, exactly where it needs to be. When he slides it into place, the smooth ‘click’ of a puzzle piece against another, Yuu reappears in the forefront.

“I’ll start to keep tabs on you too, since we’re officially putting you somewhere,” Nishinoya adds. He takes a long drink of whatever’s swirling around in his questionable glass, peering at her over the rim.

She only smiles faintly and nods, a warm crinkle at the corners of her eyes. Kuroo watches the nonverbal spar with a nice cool beverage in hand as a table-side refreshment until someone yields.

She’s the one who blinks first, and seems to pull into herself and out of whoever she had summoned for the occasion.

He watches as she downs the rest of her glass in one go and wipes her mouth with a thumb.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” she tells Kuroo. “I think it’s about time my brother started back on the move.”

She shifts past the chairs and through the trickle of customers as if she were only a figment of their imagination, and exchanges a wave farewell with the bartender before the door falls shut behind her. Kuroo has to remind himself that he’s the stranger here, and not her.

He eyes Nishinoya’s questionable expression, and asks, “I thought you were already keeping tabs on her, since… since last week?”

Nishinoya shrugs. “You’re our leader. We keep tabs on everyone you come in contact with.”

“You-“ Kuroo breaks into a disbelieving chuckle once his mind catches up with the rest of him. “Man, I can never get used to how you operate.”

Nishinoya smirks and raises his glass in a mock salute. “That’s just ‘cus we’re friends. Normal people don’t imagine their friends toying with their other friends.”

“Do you think she’ll notice? That you’re waiting for a change in behavior?”

“’Waiting’ seems a pretty harsh word. More like, preparing? Just in case. We’re not hoping she fails.”

Kuroo flips through his collection of her quiet smiles, disappointed silences and patient looks. “She seems like the real thing,” he says afterwards, “either that, or I should really suggest a change of occupation. I’ve never seem someone play a saint so well as she.”

“Saint?” Nishinoya sounds amused. “Nobody’s a saint. But I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think I’m doing here, my man? It’s the first test run for the rookie ops, so you’re our recon target tonight.”

Kuroo is ashamed of even feeling surprised.

“Just-“ He stops, and sighs. Leaving his drink unfinished, he slides off his stool and points a finger at Nishinoya’s anticipating look. “Whatever you find, if you leak even a bit of that shit to Oikawa, I’m going to roast you in your sleep.”

“But I don’t sleep?” Nishinoya laughs when Kuroo takes a menacing step forward. “Okay, okay. No leaks, just for private perusal, yeah?”

Kuroo rolls his eyes, but huffs out a chuckle all the same. “See you tomorrow night, Noya-san.”

Said man beams and bounces as he waves goodbye. “Laters!”

Kuroo leaves the bar feeling infinitely more watched than before. Instinct takes over, his feet guiding him to the safest spot and he forgets entirely the reason he’s left the bar at all until he feels a polite tap on his shoulder. He has to arch closer than he’d expected in the dimness of the alley, but she’s undoubtedly there beside him. It’s simply too dark for him to catch the wry smile.

“Good chat?”

“As good as it’ll ever get with someone like him.” Kuroo breathes in raggedly. “Sometimes, I wonder what kinda guy he’d be if he wasn’t born here. In this shithole.”

He doesn’t resist when she takes him by the wrist and leads him back onto their original route.

“I think he’d still be your friend,” she says after a while, “there’re some things in a person that fucked up can’t change.”

He looks down at her. “You think so?”

“Mhm.”

Some florescent blue bursts along her profile, mingling with the greasy streetlight pale across her right. Colours makes its way across her skin in a road trip by night, and Kuroo follows the map down her neck and shoulders to her grip above his wrist, in a starving angel livid.

He lets her hold it until she lets go.

“I just realized,” she starts, “you never told me your animal name.”

Kuroo watches the blue break into orange.

“I’m Cat,” he answers simply.

When the pale lime of a flashing banner falls across the bridge of her nose, and an alien pink draping itself in linen onto the cut of her jaw, Kuroo feels as if he can, if he wished to, reach out with a finger and draw out the lines of her newfound edges carved against the back of her bones. She’s luminescent, marble ridges, indisputable and in a different life. A better life.

Perhaps there’s something poetic in him after all.

Perhaps all this is, is poetry.

#kuroo tetsurou #nishinoya yuu #female original character #ringleaders #anarchist au #sfw #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #i writes the haikyuu #project fic

[ninjasai]

Starting Gear and Supplements

I mentioned the other day that you're gonna need some starting equipment to get things going.  This is a little guide as to what I recommend you invest in to get yourself off on the right track:

1)  Tank top/workout shirt.  Don't wear a normal t-shirt to the gym.  Not only will cotton soak up sweat and leave you feeling damp and gross, it's too good of an insulator.  You're going to be sweating and generating a lot of body heat, so you'll want to stay as cool and comfortable as possible.  Go to the sportswear section of the store and pick out a thin, light tank top made of polyester/nylon or a poly/cotton blend that'll help wick away moisture.  If the material isn't labeled just feel it.  You'll know it's right since it isn'tnormal cotton T-shirt material.

2)  Workout pants/shorts.  Be sure to get a pair that is really light and breathes well.  Track pants or shorts of the same material as your top.  For the love of god don't work out in sweatpants.  Aside from being the crocs of legwear they're much too thick and will trap body heat.

3)  Water bottle.  Gotta stay hydrated.  Preferably get one with one of those little metal balls that'll help whisk whey protein when you shake it.  That helps a ton.

4)  Workout gloves, with a wrist strap.  This serves two functions.  First, it helps prevent the formation of calluses on your palms and fingers when you lift heavy.  Second, the wrist strap is crucial.  Make sure it's thick and sturdy, and wraps around your wrist completely once, before you fix it in place with the velcro section.  Once you get into more advanced training and you're working with really heavy barbells, a wrong move can really screw up your wrists.  I've injured both wrists before because I used gloves that didn't have a strap, and I was doing military presses with an 80 pound barbell.

Each of these things shouldn't cost you more than around 10$ if you shop around right.  In all, this would be 40-50 bucks worth of gear.  Pretty cheap, considering that you’ll be using these things for years.

Now when you're working out you're trying to get your body to do four things:  1) build up muscle (and bone for the more elderly out there), 2) reduce muscle loss, 3) build up stamina to make it through a workout session, and 4) burn fat.  Nutrititional supplements help with these, and you'll want to pick up the following:

1)  Whey protein.  The first and most important supplement, protein is one of the basic building blocks of your body and is one of the major components that makes up muscle.  Whey protein in particular is important because it is rapidly absorbed by the body.  Thing to remember is that some protein brands are better than others: either the stuff is purer, or it has less filler.  Personally, I go for Optimum Nutrition brand whey protein.  While there are whey protein compounds that are better quality, this brand is both relatively cheap and is also pretty good quality stuff and comes in loads of yummy flavors.  After your workout, fill your bottle a little less than half full with water, add two scoops, shake, and give it a minute or two for the foam to clear.  Then chug.

2)  Branched-Chain Amino Acids (BCAAs).  Proteins are built up of amino acids, but amino acids are more than just the building blocks of cells.  Many have hormonal and cell-signaling functions, and branched-chain amino acids play multiple roles as a workout supplement.  BCAAs help promote muscle building as a nutrient, but they also may help prevent muscle breakdown and enhance stamina.  There is one problem with BCAAs however:  they do NOT dissolve well in water.  Instead of mixing them into your whey protein, you'll want to buy BCAAs prepackaged in capsule form.  Take one BCAA pill before your workout, and one after.

3)  Creatine Phosphate.  If you remember your high school biology, the most basic unit of energy trasfer is high-energy phosphate bonds.  The main carrier of high energy phosphate bonds is ATP.  Unfortunately your muscle cells only have a limited amount of ATP, and that's where creatine comes in.  By taking creatine phosphate you boost its concentration in your muscle cells, which provides an extra pool of energy for your muscle fibers to draw on when you're exercising.  This means you'll have better stamina when you're lifting.  One minor side effect of creatine however is that it'll lead to a little water retention, and you may gain a few pounds as a result.  But worry not:  it's completely temporary.  Just stop taking the creatine supplements and wait a few weeks and you'll piss out the excess and lose the extra weight without doing anything else.  Take 5 grams a day with a meal.  I just add 2 teaspoons to my morning coffee.

4)  Omega-3 Fatty Acids (Fish oil).  Omega-3 fatty acids have several important functions, and you should probably taking it anyway if you can.  It helps prevent cardiac issues, is crucial for your immune system, helps adjust how your body uses and stores fat in good ways, and works to improve protein absorption.  Fish oil can be the priciest of the supplements I've listed however.

So there you have it.  Your starter pack for the new swole life.

#gym #workout #fitness #blogpost

[bharatiyamedia-blog]

Amazon Sends Shares of But One other Section of Retailers Crashing—Information Sheet

http://tinyurl.com/y4mrnx85 Amazon’s capacity to disrupt worthwhile companies tends to alarm traders every time information or a rumor emerges of its subsequent goal. It doesn’t at all times turn out quite so badly for the business in query, however on Monday it was shares within the make-up and wonder product sector that received smudged. Amazon issued a surprise press release Monday morning asserting the debut of a brand new “Amazon Skilled Magnificence Retailer” aiming to produce impartial, skilled stylists, barbers and others. “We’re happy to supply these within the skilled magnificence business much more choice by means of the handy buying expertise our prospects love,” exec Steve Kann mentioned within the launch. Shares of Revlon misplaced 4% and Extremely Magnificence fell 3%, whereas magnificence retail chain Sally Magnificence Holdings plummeted 17% on the information. That mirrors the inventory market response to Amazon’s actual and rumored forays into healthcare plans, pharmacies, bundle supply, banking, and naturally, groceries. Final month, analysis agency CB Insights offered its predictions of which industries ought to most concern Jeff Bezos’ subsequent strikes. Along with naming the apparent, current large pushes into pharmacies and on-line groceries, CB’s report highlighted small enterprise lending, funds processing, mortgages, insurance coverage, and the house and backyard retail section. One signal the report cites of how apprehensive company America is in regards to the Amazon menace: On calls with traders in 2018, executives of public American firms talked about Amazon extra typically than they talked about another firm, public or personal. They talked about Amazon greater than they talked about President Trump–and practically as a lot as they talked about taxes. Nonetheless, as Amazon’s previous efforts to construct its personal smartphones, promote trip offers, and hawk high-end clothes and jewellery show, it’s not at all times the winner. Aaron Pressman @ampressman [email protected] NEWSWORTHY Lucy within the sky with diamonds. In what Elon Musk described as SpaceX’s “most troublesome launch ever,” a Falcon Heavy rocket blasted off from the Kennedy Space Center in Florida early on Tuesday morning. The payload of 24 satellites, organized by the U.S. Air Drive, wanted to be dropped off in three totally different orbits. I’m the walrus. Regulators are glomming on to Fb’s proposed new digital foreign money, Venture Libra, sooner than anybody else. Rep. Maxine Waters mentioned on Monday that the Home Monetary Providers Committee, which she chairs, will hold a hearing on Libra on July 17, with challenge lead (and former PayPal president) David Marcus anticipated to testify. The Senate Banking Committee is planning the same listening to for a similar week. Ticket to journey. The auto business’s transfer to electrification rumbled forward on Monday, as BMW debuted its Imaginative and prescient M Subsequent idea automotive. Wanting like many high-end sports activities automobiles, the hybrid Imaginative and prescient M can attain 60 mph in underneath three seconds and has a high velocity of 186 mph. However the automotive can go solely 62 miles solely underneath electrical energy. Imply Mr. Mustard. It did not hit North America, however “Operation Mushy Cell” stole wireless calling metadata from 10 carriers throughout Asia, Africa, the Center East, and Europe, safety agency Cybereason reported on Monday. Particular person prospects had been focused and the stolen information included in depth location monitoring. Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Membership Band. The general public beta variations of Apple’s varied up to date working programs emerged on Monday, largely to good evaluations. Nonetheless, it’s possible you’ll need to wait earlier than putting in macOS Catalina on you laptop computer or iOS 13 in your iPhone. There are bugs a-plenty, as befits early beta releases. Web site Gotta Be Cellular lists among the pros and cons of going beta. Talking of Apple, within the subsequent twist in its battle with Spotify, the corporate mentioned it is barely collecting any commissions in any respect from its rivals’ customers. Spotify pays Apple 15% of income from about 0.5% of its paying prospects, Apple mentioned, making an attempt to make the purpose that its app retailer charges should not harming competitors. The idiot on the hill. As I found whereas assembling Monday’s Information Sheet, components of the Web stopped working yesterday attributable to a community misconfiguration that originated with Verizon and a small fiber optic community supplier. ON THE MOVE PayPal’s chief working officer, Invoice Prepared, will depart by year end for components unknown, the corporate says. Prepared has been on the firm because it acquired his startup Braintree (and its tremendous common app Venmo) again in 2013…Apple’s Beats unit is replacing chief marketing officer Jason White with Chris Thorne, an skilled exec with stints at Digital Arts and Jessica Alba’s Trustworthy Firm. White departed for Cura Hashish Options…Superior Micro Gadgets employed Frank Azor, the co-founder of present Dell unit Alienware, as chief gaming officer…AT&T’s Warner Bros. studio employed Ann Sarnoff, president of BBC Studios Americas, as CEO, the first woman to head the Hollywood outpost in its 96-year historical past. FOOD FOR THOUGHT Because the commerce dispute between the USA and China more and more targets the tech industries in each international locations, some consideration has turned to the much less world gamers. CommScope was claiming it may gain advantage from a possible ban on Chinese language-made 5G gear, whereas Chinese language database startup PingCAP might win if native companies flip away from U.S.-based giants like Oracle and IBM. Bloomberg’s Lulu Chen explores how some of China’s biggest startups, together with Mobike and Xiaomi, are signing up with PingCAP as an alternative of the overseas competitors. PingCAP — mashing the time period for verifying an internet connection, ping, and the CAP computing theorem — was based by three programmers whose former employer, a mobile-apps firm, was acquired by Alibaba. Impressed by Google’s Cloud Spanner, which pioneered the distributed database mannequin, the trio — Huang, Liu Qi and Cui Qiu — started creating an open-source database administration system that will enable firms to infinitely broaden their information storage by merely linking extra servers to current ones. “Consider conventional database mangers like a hard and fast glass container, each time you run out of storage it’s important to get a much bigger one,” mentioned Huang. “What our system does is that you could hyperlink as many cups collectively as you need.” IN CASE YOU MISSED IT How TaskRabbit Got Its Start and Helped Spawn the Gig Economy By Dinah Eng How Much Is Your Data Worth to Facebook and Google? A New Senate Bill Aims to Find Out By Alyssa Newcomb Amazon Gets Patent for Drone Surveillance System That Could Send the Company’s Eyes Into the Sky By Xavier Harding Airbnb Gets Swanky With Chateaus and Beach Homes Costing Up to $1 Million Weekly By Danielle Abril Women’s World Cup: VAR Instant Replay Tech Has Players and Fans up in Arms By Xavier Harding Digital Health Companies Hit a New VC Funding Record in 2018 By Sy Mukherjee BEFORE YOU GO Fb is the most important firm creating its personal cryptocurrency, however dozens of smaller outfits have additionally rolled their digital tokens for varied functions. The funniest digital providing, sadly, is not actual, however a spoof from The Onion: RoloBucks. Sure, that is a digital foreign money linked to the chocolate and caramel sweet. “Right here at Rolos, we perceive the significance of shopping for your chocolate with nameless, untraceable cryptocurrencies,” fictional Nestle exec “Steve Presley” says. Sounds yummy. This version of Information Sheet was curated by Aaron Pressman. Discover past points, and join different Fortune newsletters. Source link