#(I knew he was tall but I didn’t think he was that tall!)

[yeonmuse]

— “You haven’t changed”

( pairing) - nerd!Heeseung x f!r 3kwc + smut. not proofread!! 3rd pov Contains!! Mentions of sexual themes/mean heeseung [reqs are open] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary 🪷

Authors notes, for some reason its not letting me link this post to the actual request, so hopefully whoever requested this sees it

🔖 @jwonistic @bubblytaetae @pkjay @planetmarlowe @dreeki @butterflywonz @lillotus17 @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @jiamini @sol3chu @right-person-wrong-time @riribelle

You and Your boyfriend both shared a mutual agreement that your relationship was strictly for show, or at least that was the terms you had given him. After the two of you had been caught cozying up to one another, at one of Jake's parties. Since then people had started putting the two of you with one another and you had simply accepted it. Jay was tired of the swarm of girls that’d surrounded him when he arrived on campus and you didn’t care for any of the guys there because all of them acted the same. Obviously Jay knew what he had been getting himself into with making you his girlfriend though, after all you were one of the most sought out girls in the university's freshman class.

Not to mention you were the dean's daughter, which meant everyone would either suck up to you or go through him thinking it’d get them into your mothers good graces. Though little did they know you yourself were slipping through the cracks of your mothers sincerity. Your grades were slipping bringing you from rank 1 to rank 2 of top scoring students on campus. Number one being Yang Jungwon and Number two being Lee Heeseung, a man you had known all too well since middle school. He was a friend of your eldest brother, the two of them having been friends so long tbz you couldn’t remember a time where Heeseung wasn’t at your house, sat on the couch playing video games with your brother. All you knew wanted him was that the boy owned more keyboards than he knew people, and the only reason you had known that was because you once heard him and your brother talking about it in discord.

That's all there ever did though, and you found him and your brother to be agonizingly boring. All they had ever done was play games, snack on junk food and waste away in their parents' attic playing d&d or reading old comics. Of course your mother loved Heeseung, damn near treated him like her son right along with you and your brother, and yet it didn’t make you any more interested in him than you had once been as kids.

Finally making it back to your apartment after having gotten chewed out by your mom and sat through an agonizing number of classes you were relieved to finally have some peace. Though your temporary serenity was interrupted as you heard a knock on the door forcing you up from the couch and having you stride over to the door. The scowl on your face had immediately changed to a smile as you found your brother on the other side.

“Anton!?” His arms wrap around you catching you in a tight embrace as you leapt into his arms, not having seen him in almost a year since he had chosen to travel instead of going to college.

“You haven’t grown at all.”

“Don’t start, look at you all grown up. What are you doing here?!” Your little brother had in fact grown up, ditching his glasses, old plaid button ups and bowl cut he’d always rocked when the two of you were younger. He looked like a man now, and he had grown tall enough to surpass you in height, meaning you no longer had anything to tease him about.

“I talked to mom and she said you lived here, I was hoping..to crash her for a few days?”

“Anton seriously…why can’t you just go to mom and dads?” You groan knowing that if he stayed here your peace would fly out the window.

“You know how that goes everytime, I’m tired of arguing with them over my life plans.”

“Are they really still on your ass about not going to college?”

“Mom and dad, what do you think?” You sigh as he places you back onto your feet.

“Please?” Rolling your eyes at his sad attempt to sway you , you slide over letting him inside.

“Penthouse suite, you always were a spoiled princess.”

“For your information, I’m paying myself..well our parents are helping but I wouldn’t have felt alright with them paying it all.”

“Yeah you’re crazy I'd have let them pay it all.” He says flopping down onto the couch.

“So how long do you plan on staying exactly?”

“Four days tops, then I’ll be on the move again.”

“Are you still in that band?”

“Yup, we’re on break at the moment.”

“Mm you always did love music, though you were too busy hanging out with Heeseung and Sohee.”

“Oh right Heeseung, you two go to the same university right?”

“How do you know?” You snorted, making your brother roll his eyes in response.

“‘Mom how else?”

“I don’t know ive never seen him on campus, I only know he goes there because mom is always talking about him and you, and he passed me in the ranks for the top scholars.”

“You? A top scholar?” At your brother's reaction you grabbed the nearest thing to you, chucking it at his head.

“Okay okay, no more water bottles, I was only joking.”

Your phone rings interrupting your chat with your brother, slipping your hand into your pocket you pull out your phone and step away from the living room to answer the call.

“Yes Jay.”

“Well hell to you too sweetheart.”

“Jay I don’t have time for this, is this about something important or should I just hang up.”

“Won’t take up too much of your time sweetheart don’t worry, so the party at Jakes was canceled, his parents came home early from their trip, so we were all wondering, maybe we could move it to your place? It's been a while since you’ve thrown one.”

“Jay my brother is here. I can't just throw a party when he just got here.”

“You’re having a party?” Antons ears perk up at the mention of a party and he pushes himself up off the couch before making his way over to her.

“I wouldn’t mind a party” your eyes widen at your brother's sudden approval and you hear Jay chuckle on the other line.

“So is that a yes?”

__________

That was exactly how you ended up here, a house full of random strangers from camps you’d known absolutely nothing about because they had been friends of Jays rather than your own. You sat comfortably in Jay's lap, minding your business while he and his friends talked. Only getting up when you felt like you needed to throw back another drink to cure your boredom. Now you love a good party, but after the day you had you’d simply expected to just lie in bed and rest. As you had been making your way out of the kitchen you heard the faint sound of the doorbell making you audibly sigh as you sat your cup down and sauntered over to the door.

Pulling it open you were surprised to see none other than Lee Heeseung. By the looks of it he hasn't changed one bit, other than the fact that he had grown into his looks he still had dressed exactly the same as he did in high school.

“Heeseung?” You couldn’t hold back the shocked laugh that spilled from your lips.

Lee Heeseung? At a party?

“Yo Heeseung.” Heeseungs gaze shifted from you to your brother who had now been approaching the door with a goofy smile on his face.

“You actually came.” Your gaze shifts between Heeseung and your brother and you couldn’t help but laugh as you step aside and go back to your drink while the two talk

Maybe they hadn’t changed and both of them were just as nerdy and goofy as they had been when there were kids.

The rest of the night had gone by agonizingly slow for you, at some point the party began to die down and everyone had left, the only one staying behind being Heeseung so that he and your brother could catch up.

The two of them sat in the living room while you yourself sat on the kitchen counter stuffing your face with popcorn to cure your drunken dazed hunger.

“You haven’t changed one bit.” You let it slip past your lips in a drunken ramble, having thought it was something you said in your head rather than aloud.

“Did you say something yn?” Your brother asks, forcing Heeseung to turn his head and look at you as well

“Heeseung, he changed at all.” You respond still stuffing your mouth with popcorn

“You grew up a little, but Heeseung still looks the same, remember keely would call him the little nerdboy, and you geek charming.” You say with a small chuckle reliving the memory.

“Yeah, how much did you drink tonight exactly?” You roll her eyes in response.

“Enough to make me feel nice, not enough to make me drunk dad.” You respond sarcastically, making your brighter roll his eyes.

“Did you bring the game?” You could hear Anton ask, his and Heeseungs voices growing fainter and fainter as you made your way up the staircase and to your bedroom.

You had a peaceful shower, those heaven spent thirty minutes having sobered you up just enough. You had been getting ready to lay in bed when a knock at the door interrupted you mid climb. Letting out a frustrated groan you shuffled over to the door, feeling slightly annoyed that once again your peace had been interrupted. Yet you were surprised to see Heeseung on the other side.

“Heeseung?” For a moment he just stood there, his eyes scanning you before his arms snaked around your waist and he pushed you back into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Heeseung what”

“You’re so annoying, even after a year you’re still this annoying?”

“What-“

“You haven’t changed one bit, Jesus, you just don’t know when to stop talking.” He backs you against the door pressing your back directly into the knob making your face twist in discomfort.

“Heeseung, I was only joking.”

“Don’t care, you’ve been this way for as long as I can remember, you’d always have something to say about me, your brother too but I’m not so much interested in anything you’ve said about him.”

“You need to be humbled.” Before you had even had any time to register what was going on he shoves his hand into your shirt. His fingers tracing over your skin making goosebumps rise on your skin. His fingers squeeze your hips in a manner that forces you to stay pressed against him. His fingers slowly trailing down to your exposed thighs just below your shirt making you suck in a breath.

The side of his lips curled into a smirk as he heard a desperate whine that spilled past your plump lips, so quiet he’d damn near miss it if the room wasn’t so silent. The moment you opened your mouth to speak the sound of a slap rang throughout the room followed by a whine from you. Him having slapped your thigh to keep you quiet, focusing amusement in the way you used the back of your hand to try and suppress the noises that spilled past your lips.

“You’ve talked enough tonight.” His fingers immediately met your clit, pushing past your folds and slipping them right inside you with ease.

“Only sound I want to hear from you is your desperate little moans.” His thumb pressed against your clit as he started slowly, thrusting his fingers deep into you like he has done with you thousands of times.

“But A-Anton.” You force yourself to breathe out between ragged breaths, the way Heeseung continuously abuses your clit without letting up, making you squirm against the door.

“Went out to get snacks, told him I'd stay behind and look after you since you drank so much.” He responds by watching the way your face contorts between a look of pleasure and one of confliction.

Without hesitation he slipped in two more fingers, taking the time to stretch your walls and feel you out before he began to thrust them in and out slowly. The way you whine for him to move them faster only causes him to slow them down. His fingers thrust further into your cunt with every loud cry that left your mouth. He could tell you were getting annoyed with his sudden change in pace, he didn’t care though he thought it was what you deserved

“Heeseung” A chuckle spilled from his lips at how desperate you sounded.

“Hm? What is it baby hm? Too fast for you, should I slow it down some more?” He teases, slowing down the curling and thrusting of his fingers to an agonizingly slow pace.

“Look at you whining like a desperate little doll for some little nerdboy when you’ve got a boyfriend.” His eyes shoot to the mirror near your bedside and he forces you to stare straight ahead into it, giving you a perfect view of just how pathetic you looked, whining and whimpering while his fingers that were buried deep inside of you.

Finally forcing his fingers from your now dripping cunt he lifts you up throwing you onto your bed you had been coming into his mere moments ago. Face down ass up, with your hands pressed into your back, he has you completely vulnerable.

“Look at you, aren’t even trying not to give in, it's pathetic honestly. Is Jay not giving you what you need?” His hands traced your curves until his finger hooked within your panties, pulling them to the side.

“Fuck you’re already a mess” it took him less than a minute to shove his pants and boxers to the floor, the view of you making him all the more eager to take you right then and there. Something he had thought about time and time again since high school.

Your eyes rolled back immediately as Heeseung wasted absolutely no time and pushed himself inside of you until he fully bottomed out. Your tightness earned a low growl from him as he pushed so deep you could have sworn you felt him hit the top of your stomach. He watched the blissed out look on your face with every little thrust inside you.

“Taking me so well baby.” A chuckle spilled past his lips and he immediately spread your legs wider and pulled your ass up against him. Your moans were evident enough that whatever pain you felt from him stretching you out, if any had gone away. It was quite easy for him to get into the rythym of fucking into you, rough and feverish thrusts from the very beginning. Thrusts that caused your eyes to roll to the back of your head so hard you saw stars. He rolled his eyes and there was a hint of annoyance in his tone as he watched you force your face into the mattress trying to keep quiet.

Grabbing a fist full of your hair he forces your head back and presses you flat against his chest.

“Don’t try to be quiet now.” Your nails dug so deep into his thighs that you nearly drew blood. He watched the view from the mirror, watching the way strings of saliva dripped down your chin from the way your mouth hung open spilling pornographic moans.

“Look at you getting fucked by a nerd like me.” He immediately leans down to place kisses on your neck, your nipple between his fingers while his other hand fondles your breasts. The pleasure had been overwhelming your bodies in ways you hadn’t thought to be possible. From the feeling of his fingers against your breasts to every time he thrusted in to you feeling like the more he fucked the deeper into your stomach his cock seemed to push. Your thoughts had been so cloudy that you could barely even make out anything he had been talking to you about.

“Such a pretty little thing gonna cum all over my cock.” He immediately rested one hand on your waist while resting the other on your stomach and pushing down. He wanted to feel just how far his cock could go inside your little frame. This action was all it took to push you over the edge, the moment he pushed down upon your stomach your legs shook and it was a glorious sight for all of them to see, to see you squirt upon the impact of his hand. As you were finally able to pry your eyes open you felt butterflies in the pit of your stomach. The sight of his hands wrapped around your waist holding you close to him as you came completely undone. Sweat dripped down his forehead as he watched you try and conceal your dazed condition.

“Yn? Did Heeseung leave?” Heesung couldn’t help but chuckle as he heard the sound of your brother calling him from the hall.

“Go ahead sweetheart, answer him.” He found it absolutely amusing, the very person you’d always tease and talk about as a kid had been fucking to into your matress making you a complete mess.

“U-um He- had to step o-out for a moment.”

“Did he say where he was going?” You mentally cursed and bit down on your lip to choke back a moan when Heeseungs fingers met your clit.

“A-An errand or something.”

“Errand? O..kay.”

When you finally heard him move away from the door and you weren’t even able to let out a sigh of relief. Your legs shook violently as Heeseung thrusts grew in speed and the low growls that spilled from his mouth made it all more easy for you to unravel right then and there, your cum spilling out onto his cock and he wasnt too far behind as the fucked out look on your face and the way you clenched around him was all he needed for him to spill into you.

Slipping his head into the crook of your neck he sucks harshly, leaving evidence that you were now tainted by him.

“Mmm now you have to go down there and keep him distracted so I can make it look like I left.”

“What? You expect me to go down there after this?”

“You want your brother to know you fucked one of his friends?”

“Fuck i like you better when you just sat in the room and played video games all day.”

[lostinlovingrevery]

Indecisive

70s DOFP! Logan X Curvy! F! Reader

A/n: This got away from me.

Plot: You're indecisive about everything- and soon you become unsure about Logan. He makes sure to get rid of those doubts of yours.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ only!, DUB-CON (like a lot but reader is super into it), kinda rough sex, dom! logan, oral (f! recieving), logans a total munch, doggy style, the claws come out, readers described as curvy but not super relevant to the plot?

Word Count: 3960

You weren’t sure about him.

You met Logan a few weeks ago, you bumped into each other at the local park near your apartment. One look at him made your knees weak - you had never seen a man look so good before. 

Tall- much taller than you, muscular, wearing a tight black t-shirt that stretched across his chest and looked as if it would rip and he dared to flex at all. Over that, a black leather jacket, a little worn at the shoulder. Dark blue jeans, that hugged his hips and thighs, sporting a thick belt, with some interesting design that you couldn’t make out - because you couldn’t just sit and stare at his crotch the entire time. His face was very nice to look at anyway, with a sort of slicked back style and a widows peak hairstyle that was very distinctive, mutton chops going down his jawline and stopping at his chin. Pretty hazel eyes that stared right through you- an intensity that you couldn’t help but blush under. 

He’s so handsome!

You had been distracted, busy staring down at a notebook that you had your arm cradling as you walked the path you were so familiar with. You were in the process of starting a business- a florist shop, and there were hundreds of things to decide. Which was unfortunate for you, since you were the most indecisive person on Earth.

What to eat for breakfast, what shoes to wear, what drink to order, what lipstick to put on,

It goes on and on, your day is constantly full of questions, comparing your choices and trying to pick the best one. Honestly it’s a wonder how you managed to get this far in life, considering you could stand in the middle of the store for eternity comparing the colors of a dress you like- unable to decide what you thought looked better on you.

Should I go to school?

Should I start a business?

Should I keep seeing him?

After you finished fumbling apologies to him, while he gave you that cute little smile that made you practically want to melt under his stare- he asked you out. It surprised you, seeing that you were a girl on a more…curvier side. It wasn’t that you were unattractive, you knew your body well and you certainly weren’t indecisive on your confidence; even if you do meticulously craft your outfit of the day to make sure you look good as possible- even if it is painstakingly long process that it takes for you to even decide your outfit… Logan though, didn’t seem like the type to go after girls like you. He seemed the type to be inclined towards thinner girls, girls that looked like super models off the runway. You didn’t hold any bitterness towards that thought, everyone had a type. 

You weren’t sure about saying yes, since you merely just met him- and he, sensing your indecisiveness, gave you a time and place. The way he took charge, helped you make the decision and it displayed how obviously interested he was in seeing you again attracted you like no other. 

So you showed up, you had a good time with him. He made you laugh, charmed you like no other man has. You shared your first kiss with him that night- one that you spent in your bed thinking about all night, giddy and blushing. The next few weeks went by and he would call and set up another date, and another, and another

The initiative he took turned you on like no other. His quiet assertiveness brought you a certain comfort you weren’t familiar with- the way he was sure of himself. The cocky confidence he’d bring during your conversations- it would make you laugh, the way he’d smirk and say something snarky. 

It was great, until tonight. Doubts started creeping into your mind, as you picked up on little things about him. Things that screamed trouble and heartbreak. You didn’t mind the trouble, not at all. It was the heartbreak that scared you. You felt yourself falling for him, but you weren’t sure if you should let yourself. He didn’t seem like the type to want to stick around- after you heard his stories of the travels he’s had. While he certainly seemed eager to see you, he hasn’t brought up anything about becoming serious, and you haven’t slept together yet- your own personal way of screening potential lovers.

 It’s not like you want to hold out on purpose- you would’ve jumped his bones the moment you met, but you’ve been burned by men just wanting to sleep around - and you did not appreciate being led on by a potential of something real, when really it was just physical. 

Tonight's date with him went by, and you felt something weird- your own doubts may have been playing in. It led you to question if you should keep this going. More of being unsure of your life.

For now, you decided to put the decision on a backburner while you undressed and took a shower, letting the warm water flow over you as you attempted to plan your day tomorrow. The sound of the shower meant you didn’t hear Logan coming into your apartment. 

How could he not stop by?

You were acting differently tonight, not as happy, or perky. You weren’t holding his hand as often, smiling as often. Your mind seemed to be in another world. He had the feeling, after observing your little quirk of being unsure over things, that maybe you were feeling unsure about him.

He didn’t like the feeling. 

Since he met you, he was obsessed. You have captured him in every way possible. It wasn’t easy to get his attention, Logan was always looking for the next thing, something better. The most it came to relationships for him was one-night stands, one where he seduced someone with a smile and a few cheap compliments, brought her back to a cheap motel, and got his rocks off- and left before the night even ended. He had his own place but he didn’t need women who had the misfortune of encountering him trying to seek him out again, because he wasn’t interested in pursuing anything that was more than physical. 

Until he met you.

God, you drove him insane. He thinks about you more than he cares to admit. Your pretty lips that curve into that smile that makes his dick twitch. Your curves, that he’s traced with his eyes so many times that he can picture you perfectly in his mind. He stared at the way your breasts bounced when you laughed, the way your hips moved when you’d walk away, the love handles that were barely prominent in your usual clothes unless you were wearing something tight, he wanted to grip them as he fucked into you hard and completely undo you. He was addicted to you and he hadn’t even gotten a taste of you yet. A true taste. Your lips were so sweet, and he’d capture you in a kiss multiple times a night- never able to get enough of the sugar high you gave him. 

It wasn’t just your beauty that captivated him. You were fierce, intelligent, and very passionate. You told him all about your little business you were starting, and your time in college, you’ve gone on a tangent more times about everything ranging from politics to flowers. He loved that passion he saw in your eyes and heard in your voice, it was something he hadn’t even realized he was looking for, something that he was missing. 

You’d downplay yourself more times than once, always riding about how indecisive you were. You weren’t indecisive. You were passionate. You wanted to make sure you enjoyed everything life gave you, you didn’t want to miss out. Maybe you took a little longer to decide on whether you wanted to try the blue fruity drink, or the red. Logan didn’t mind that though- it made the world slow down when you took your time. His world was rushed, he never took a moment to appreciate where he was till he was with you. 

He was excited about you- which is why he never pushed you toward any more…physical connections. He knew you’d open up to him when you were ready. He just had to keep himself satisfied by getting himself off to the thought of you every night since he’d met you. How badly has he resisted the urge to rip off your pretty little dress that hugged your curves and ruin you. He knew he’ll get that chance eventually- he was arrogant like that. He was willing to take time, especially considering he still had to tell you about who he was- something he wasn’t quite sure how to approach, since it hadn’t been an issue before with his no-strings-attached lifestyle.

Seeing you pulling away from him sent him into something dark and possessive. He could see where your indecisiveness was an issue- but he refused to let it be that way. You were the best thing he’s come across in over a century, He certainly wasn’t going to let that go over some uncertainty.

He knew you wanted him. He could smell it off you every time you met up, he could see it in your eyes the way you traced over his figure, a small blush coming to your cheeks and you’d quickly look away. How’d you get flustered when he’d get closer, putting his hand on your knee and squeezing, before letting his flinger flit underneath the hem of your dress, teasing you. 

He had no problem getting rid of your doubts. 

You stepped out of the shower, steaming filling the bathroom, as you grabbed your robe, something silky and small, barely covering you even as you tied the robe shut. You used a towel to dry your hair, and brushed your teeth, unknowing of the man lurking in your living room- waiting for you to come out. 

After you brushed your teeth, your hair- you were ready for bed. You stepped out of the bathroom, steam pouring out through the doorway into the dark hallway. You begin turning towards your bedroom when a voice reaches your ear, and sends goosebumps down your arms.

“You take a long time in there.” 

You turned around with a gasp. Logan was standing in front of your door, a faint smile on his face, and a look in his eye you’re not sure was anger or lust. His hands were in the pockets of his jeans, as he stood there. You swallowed, your heart beginning to pound. 

“Lo…Logan what…What are you doing here? How did you get in?” You asked, trying to hide the fear you felt beginning to rise in you. 

“Wanted to see you.” He says, taking a step forward. “You rushed out tonight.”

“I…I’m sorry I was just…I was tired, long day.” You stammered. His eyes went down, tracing over you, and it occurred to you that you were barely clad in your robe. You pulled it shut around your chest area, attempting to keep yourself covered. A frown came across his face.

“Don’t do that.” He says stepping closer to you. “Don’t cover what’s mine.” 

“Excuse me?” You say with a bit of disbelief. “Logan I…I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…hurt your feelings or something but you coming in here like this is…is…”

“Is what doll?” He smirked. He was in front of you now, towering over you. You avoided looking at him, annoyed because his proximity to you was making your thighs clench together. You knew it was wrong, he practically broke into your apartment. Any other sane woman would be screaming their heads off, telling him to get out, throw things at him! 

Yet the closer he stood to you, the less fear you felt, and more curiosity of what he was planning came to mind.

“Not sure what to say?” He asks a quirk of arrogance in his tone. You swallowed, and you finally looked up at him. He brought his hand up, his pointer finger tucking underneath your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He smirked. “Feeling indecisive again sweetheart?” He coos.

“Logan…”

“Feeling unsure about us?” He asks. You blink in surprise, your expression confirming his suspicions. He tuts, shaking his head, his hand slowly but firmly grabbing your face, his thumb and finger digging into the fat of your cheeks, forcing your lips to pucker. It was a move of dominance you hadn’t seen from him before, and you were ashamed to say you absolutely loved it. “How about I make that decision for you?” He says in a low voice. His lips crashed onto yours in a messy and rough kiss, your hands coming up to press against his chest - you’re still unsure about pulling him closer, or pushing him away. 

Before you could react, he grabbed you, his arm around your waist as he lifted you, before roughly bringing you to the carpeted floor with him ontop of you. 

Holy shit

He let go of you, his hand reaching down, ripping the belt of your robe off, and the silk fell to the side, exposing you completely to him. You gasped.

“Logan!” You reached your hand out, for what you didn’t know. He grabbed it, and your other hand, pinning them above your head as he used his knees to kick your legs open, his thighs pressing against yours-keeping them spread. Your skin felt on fire, embarrassment at being exposed like this running through you, making your body shiver as Logan stared down at you, his tongue coming out to lick his lips as if he was looking down at a full course meal. You knew it was wrong- you shouldn’t let him do this, but arousal began coating your heat between your legs, you felt yourself aching for stimulation- and you couldn’t help but find yourself loving how he took charge of you. It wasn’t like you hadn’t had fantasies of him taking you like this before…You just never thought that would ever happen. 

“Fuck, you’re even more beautiful than I imagined…” He mutters, his eyes trailing over every inch of you. He used one hand to keep yours pinned above you, as his free hand moved to grope your breast, his thumb rubbing over your nipple as it hardened under his touch, making you whimper as you began to squirm under him. “Don’t act like you don’t want this sweetheart.” He looks back up at you, “You’re soaked, see?” 

His hand let go of your breast, two fingers swiping through your folds, making your hips jerk up, as he chuckled, holding the two fingers up and examining the slick he collected on them. You watched with wide eyes and parted lips as he brought them to his mouth, his tongue coming and tasting you on his fingers. He let out a deep groan as he closed his eyes, sticking his fingers into his mouth and taking the rest of your essence. 

“Fuck.” He hissed. He let go of your wrists, his arms going under your thighs and lifting your upper half up to his face as he was still on his knees. You yelped, your hands came down to the floor, as you attempted to make up for the awkward position he dragged you in, your thighs thrown over his shoulders as he held a death grip on your hips. 

His nose pressed to your mound, taking a deep inhale of you, and you covered your mouth as your face ran red hot at the filthy action. 

God, he’s filthy!

He licked a long stripe from your hole to your clit, and let out an involuntary moan. His tongue ran rough circles around your clit. Your head tipped back, your eyes rolling. He began eating you out, almost desperately, his tongue dipping into your pulsing cunt, before licking another stripe through you, and nipping at your clit. It made your hips jerk and a whine escaped you. 

You couldn’t take this, the way he was munching on you like a man starved, how your lower half body was suspended in air, you had no control. You melted into him, your hand finally reaching up to grip his hair- making him groan, his eyes opening to look down at you. You felt a honey-tight feeling in the pit of your stomach, and with little control you had, attempted to grind your hips against his face. You snapped, and a heat of release ran through you, soaking his face in your fluids.

You couldn’t completely tell in your post-coitus haze, but you swear he was laughing.

You were lowered down to the carpet, thighs spread and trembling. 

“The things I’m going to do to you…” You heard him mutter. You felt his hands grab you again, and flip you on your stomach. His knees kept your legs spread, lifting your ass in the air, and he leaned over your body, bracing one arm next to your head. You heard him shuffling, the clink of his belt. 

You felt his tip brush through your slit and gasped. 

Fuck, he’s huge

You felt his breath on your ear. “You’re so damn gorgeous darling. I’ve been obsessed with you since we met.” He says lowly, sending goosebumps through your skin. “Tell me sweetheart, are you unsure about us now?” He mutters. Your breath hitched, and you shook your head. He smirked, something devilishly, as he pushed his tip inside you. “Good.” he growls, before pushing himself inside.

 You cried out, the mere size of him felt like too much as he stretched you out. “Sshh, you’re alright.” He cooed, his free hand coming up to cup your jaw, while his other braced himself on top of you. “You can take it sweet girl- fuck-” He pressed his head into yours, “You feel so good.” 

Your body trembled under him, he moved his hips back, before thrusting into you slowly again, allowing you to adjust to his size. His chest pressed against your back, you could feel the complete weight of him on top of you. Not crushing you- something that felt completely safe and warm. 

“Logan-” You whined, desperate for more, arching your back against him. He chuckled, a sound that shot straight through you, making you clench around him. 

“I got you baby, just relax.” He mutters, before he picks up his pace, thrusting in and out of you, his hips slapping against your ass. He held onto your jaw, his nose pressing into your hair as you listened to him grunt and growl with each thrust. 

He got faster, your arms stretched out, hands attempting to grip the carpet for some kind of leverage. He was going so fast you don’t even know how he managed to have the stamina, as your eyes rolled back, the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you was enough to make you go dumb and pliant. He suddenly slowed down, making deep- slow thrusts where he nearly pulled completely out, before burying himself inside you again, making you cry out. The hand cradling your jaw came up, covering your mouth to hide your noises.

“Much as I like hearing those pretty noises, don’t need the neighbors complaining darling.” He mutters. He picked his pace again, pounding into your pussy, your whole body shaking underneath him. His arm that kept him braced on the floor wrapped around your hip, his hand gripping at your love handles, angling you higher- practically folding your body in half against him.

The new angle made you feel like you were going to pass out. His cock was pounding into that special spot, making you unable to think of anything, as your body hummed with your second orgasm, approaching quickly. You began whining his name into his hand, and he grunted. 

“Fuck, fuck keep saying my name.” He growled, moving his hand from your lips a bit, just so he could hear you repeating his name over and over. “Oh fuck-” 

His hands released his grip on you, as they came into your view, fists slamming into the floor- and your eyes widened as your watched sharp bone-like appendages protrude from his fist. 

Oh shit-

You couldn’t barely react or acknowledged anything, as the tight thread that was growing in your stomach accordance with Logans thrusts finally snapped, waves of ecstasy rolling over your body, over and over as your eyes rolled back, and Logan’s hips snapped against your ass one more time, filling you up with warm spurts of his cum. He whined and grunted, a few lazy thrusts as he continued spilling into you, before finally stopping, his head collapsing onto your shoulder. 

Your heart was racing, and you could barely see straight from the explosive orgasm that ran through you, but you attempted to focus on his hands, where the sharp appendages were still out. Your hand reached out, gently touching his, and he loosened his fist as you ran your fingers over his palm. You felt him pressing kisses along your shoulder. 

“You okay?” He muttered softly. You nodded, swallowing. 

“You’re a mutant?”

“Yeah.” He says. That explains the stamina

 You didn’t know much about them, other than the fact that the U.S government announced that they were real and a part of the population. Some people were terrified of the idea- but you simply thought nothing of it. Just cause they could do things some couldn’t didn’t mean they weren’t people either- just like Logan. “That bother you?”

“No…” You shook your head, still looking at his hand. He chuckled. 

“You were quick to answer that one.”

“Nothing to be unsure about with that.” You say matter-of-factly. He leaned over and kissed your cheek.

“Good.” He mutters. “Don’t think I’m done with you yet sweetheart.” 

“Wait- what?” 

You shrieked as he pulled out, pulling you up from the ground.

You spent the rest of the night being completely undone by him. He made sure to fuck out any doubt or questions you had about you and him- at least physically. He plans to make sure you never have to feel unsure about him ever. 

Something about Logan doing what he did solidified your decision, it wasn't just how the sex was great- but the way he desperately wanted to show you he cared- that he could take care of you, that he wanted to be apart of your life. He may have acted like he was in control, but every movement, every touch, kiss, thrust- felt like he was begging for you to keep him around. There was still things to talk about- such as the mutant thing, but your connection had officially solidified, as you felt you finally made a decision you can add to your list of 'good decisions'.

The next morning, you woke up in bed, wrapped in his arms. Fatigue plagued you, and you barely could feel your legs after the positions he’d managed to put you in- positions you didn’t even know existed. He woke from your shifting, eyes looking at you with adoration and a faint smile on his face. 

“Morning doll.” He greets, voice low with an edge of sleep. 

“Morning Lo.” You smiled, bringing your hand to his chest.

“You hungry?”

“Yeah.” You nod. He sat up, an arm still wrapped around your shoulder as he leaned over you. 

“What d’ya want for breakfast?” He asks. You looked up at him with a raised brow, reminding him of your indecisiveness and he chuckled, a small shake of his head. “Alright. Alright. How about waffles?” 

[angellekookie]

Always Been There | MYG - PART 1.

Summary: Ever since the new kid moved into your cousin's old house, your life has been different.

Genre: Childhood Friends to Lovers AU, (half-sided) Academic Rivals to Lovers, it's romance- fluffy romance, maybe cliché (this is a warning)

WC: 5.1 K

Other Tags: Friend! Teahyung (mentioned), Cousin! Seokjin (mentioned)

Warnings: Brief mention of alcohol consumption, Idk if I missed any, but let me know.

Pairings: Min Yoongi x F! Reader

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

You never perceived yourself as a competitive child. You were usually quiet and reserved, often opting to be engaged in any book, watch television or play the occasional video game with your older cousin, Seokjin, who lived just down the street. This all changed one summer when your uncle got a new job in Seoul and had to move. Obviously, you missed him, he was your favourite cousin, your best friend. So every day you’d walk to your uncle’s old house hoping he’d come back from his new job and bring Seokjin home with him.

Days melted into weeks and the “For Sale” sign on the gate seemed to get bigger and bigger as if it existed solely to mock you. Or maybe it only appeared ten times the size because you stared at it so often, studying it, willing anything to change.

Summer's end brought you an initially pleasant surprise. This time, when you walked to Jin's house you saw people going back and forth taking boxes from a moving truck. Obviously, you thought that the day couldn’t get any better, your young mind not even considering that it could actually get worse.

Excitement led your feet through the gate and inside the yard where you saw a boy with his back turned to you. He appeared a bit shorter than how you remembered your cousin, but excitement didn’t let you think on that too much. Besides, surely you grew in the last few months, of course Jin wouldn’t look as tall to you any more.

The next five seconds happened both breathtakingly fast and painstakingly slow. The next five seconds changed what you thought was the best day of your life to the single worst day of your entire existence.

One second you were running towards your “cousin,” the next second you were making an unplanned descent, landing at the feet of who you later discovered was the son of your new neighbours.

At eight years old, maybe you still believed that kindness was the default setting of the world and expected the same from the boy looking down at you with his pale, chubby face. But whether it was disgust on his face, disdain—or maybe perhaps you were lucky and he just didn’t care—you didn’t know. What you did know was that you had to leave and you had to leave immediately.

That evening your parents barely managed to console you after you came home crying with a bruised kneecap. You were silent all through dinner and hardly gave any attention to what they were saying about inviting people somewhere and someone close in age. You had enough on your plate already with trying to forget the sheer embarrassment you had endured earlier in what you had once considered a safe space and the brussels sprouts your mother had insisted you eat tonight.

After that day, Min Yoongi became a constant in your life.

As luck would have it, your parents were speaking about your new neighbours that night. About how they meant to introduce themselves to them so they would feel welcomed to the neighbourhood. About the son they had who was around two years older than you, and how you both could be great friends.

You never anticipated that your mother would become best friends with Yoon Misook, which meant that you would come to spend a lot of time with the Mins. Birthday parties, holiday celebrations, family get-togethers… if you can name it, you had to be there and you had to be there with him.

Min Yoongi loved being right. There was always unmistakable joy present on his otherwise expressionless face when he knew he was right. Like when he beat you at chess, or told you that tomato was actually a fruit- it didn’t matter because you still didn’t like eating them anyways. You enjoyed wiping the smug little smirk right off his face. The thing was that you loved being right too, or rather, you greatly enjoyed telling Min Yoongi he was wrong. Enjoyed telling him that the sun was in fact a star, feeling higher than any sugar rush could take you when you let him know that acetic acid wasn’t technically vinegar- just a part of it. This was much to the dismay of both your parents, your friends, teachers, and anyone else who had the pleasure of having you both around at the same time.

Although maybe you should thank him.

During the school year, some time after your first meeting with Yoongi, you were sitting in his living room completing homework. His brows were furrowed in a delicate mix of concentration and confusion. You had stretched over to his side to see what was the matter, to see if you perhaps needed to ask his mother or older brother for help. “Yoongi-oppa, what’s wrong?” He didn’t look at you, for a second you wondered if he even heard you. You were going to nudge him with your pencil until he said your name. “Don’t worry about it. You won't understand it anyways.” His brows furrowed even more as he continued to work on his assignment.

Now you weren't planning to help him by any means. He was older than you and you were sure his fifth-grade math would give your third-grade math a run for its money. But him implying that you couldn't even understand it struck a nerve in your young brain. “Lemme see it, please, please, pleasee. Yoongiii-” he released a heavy sigh and turned his workbook towards you. Of course you were pleased with getting your way.

There were shapes, you definitely recognized the triangle and other shapes. You also knew about perimeter, but as you read further down the page admittedly some of the questions you didn’t quite understand just how they expected to get all those answers from a few shapes. It was your turn to have your brows furrowed in confusion.

Noting the shift in your facial expression, Yoongi took his workbook back. You looked up to find him looking at you with one eyebrow raised and a smug little smile on his face. He was daring you to say something, anything. You knew that, but you had nothing to say. “I told you.” He’d said, and hearing your silence, Yoongi knew that he was in fact right and a chuckle managed to escape him. You only huffed and returned to your seat, barely managing to finish the last question of your own assignment.

That night you swore it would be the last time you’d let Min Yoongi look at you like that. Call it your villain origin. Sheer spite, divine motivation, whatever it was and whatever it took you knew you just had to be better than you were, better than him eventually.

You had spent even more time with your face buried in books than you used to. If you were an academic weapon before, you made it your mission to become an academic armoury now. The next few years saw you move from just being at the top of your class, to being the top of the school- overtime skipping a grade and ending up in the same class as your favourite neighbour.

You still remember how he was laughing with his friends, completely unaware of your presence until the homeroom teacher called you up to the front to introduce you to the class. He was surprised, you’d hardly ever seen him surprised by anything, much less anything you’ve done. He often had little to no emotions on his face and after eight years of knowing him, you’d come to know that any emotion outside of his usual scope of nothing was absolutely monumental.

As much as possible, you tried to steer clear of Yoongi while at school except for some instances where a teacher thought it a good idea to have you both working together (that mistake was hardly made a second time). You’d quickly learn that in his first year of high school, Yoongi, who lacked any decent manners and people skills, was somehow popular among the students. You noticed how girls often giggled with their friends when they passed him, or how you would see him laugh more with his own group of friends than he ever did with you back home. This was understandable as the both of you only ever really managed to get on each other’s nerves.

Despite all this, he’d hardly ever let you walk home alone even when you insisted that you could walk home with literally any of your other friends, anybody but him. He says it's because he knows you enjoy his company though you refuse to admit it. “As if,” You would tell him. “Personally, I have better things to do than pretend to enjoy spending time with the likes of you.” You ignore the voice that tries to tell you that it's a good thing he’s here with you and not with one of the girls in his little fan club. You ignore the same voice as it tries to tell you that you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Instead, you swat his hand away when he attempts to flick your forehead. Instead, your laughs echo through Daegu streets as you run from him. There's no point in running. Of course, he'll catch you, just like he always has, and maybe he always will. So even though your lungs burn, and Min Yoongi is annoying, and you're not even close to being the prettiest girl at school, there's a big grin on your face. This moment was yours, yours alone.

Once as you were preparing for your last lesson of the day, Yoongi sat down beside you in the empty classroom. Before you could comment on it, other students came in and started filling up seats one by one. Throughout the class, you noticed that Eunji had taken the seat to his left. That’s no problem, she and her ponytail could sit wherever they wanted. If only she didn’t keep asking him things every five minutes or so. You weren't counting. But you wondered if he could ever learn anything with her practically in his ear the entire time, you wondered if she knew she was distracting the entire class trying to breath down Yoongi’s neck.

You felt sick, maybe. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach and it felt just a bit difficult to breathe. But you also felt like you could burst. You weren’t sure if you liked it. Thankfully, class had finally ended and students began leaving as quickly as they came in. You wouldn’t have to endure... whatever that was any more.

You were just packing up when you heard a deep voice beside you, “If you stared any longer, given your track record, I’d have to believe you had a crush on me or something.” He makes it his mission to ensure you never forget the one time you tripped and fell to his feet when you were children. Due to either mild irritation, embarrassment or something else you could feel the blood rushing up to your face, so you decide to slow your movements in hopes that he wouldn’t see it.

“Please, Yoongi. Do I look like I'd want to waste my intelligence on harbouring romantic affections for you.” You hear him scoff behind you and you turn your head just enough to see him raise his eyebrow, looking at you incredulously.

“’Yoongi?’ We dropped the honorifics now?”

“We’re classmates, I didn’t think it was necessary.” You decided to face him, mirroring his raised eyebrow with your own, challenging him. “Is there a problem, Yoongi? I mean, if it’s so important to you I could always just start calling you ahjuss-”

"Yoongi, is fine." For the second time today there's a hint of surprise on his face, and the ghost of a smile that you weren’t quite sure what to make of it. You wanted to smile too, but suddenly you remembered Eunji beside him in class and the smile never came to be. You didn’t want to tell him that he had all the girls in the school to call him whatever he wanted them to, that perhaps you felt a bit intimidated by the older, more mature girls that he had around whenever you saw him. You didn’t want to tell him that because you’ve been actively avoiding feeling that way for some time. You didn’t want to tell him anything like that for fear of him actually laughing you to scorn, for fear of him hitting you with his infamous blank stare. You’ve had your fair share of first-hand experiences with it.

Instead of all the things you weren’t ready to face, weren’t ready to say, you tell him “I can’t walk home with you today. Me, Taehyung and Ara have uhmm, something. I’ll see you later.” There was nothing. But you left to find your friends before he could have a chance to say anything else to you.

It’s been a year since you graduated high school. Summer brought you back to your hometown for the first time since you moved in with your uncle to be closer to university in Seoul. You weren’t the only students home for break so naturally, you ran into a few of your old classmates. Some of them mentioned a get together on the field behind the school that was coming up. You couldn’t not know about it. You remember barely stepping off the bus with Yoongi when Sooyoung greeted you both and first suggested the idea. That’s how you found yourself on the field with him (and the drinks) waiting for the others to show up.

Soon everybody that could make it sat down on the grass and Sooyoung started pouring out the drinks in cups and passing them around. The first taste is... bitter. You try to drink more, you’ve heard a few people say it's an acquired taste.

The night went on, conversations eventually straying away from the generic “How are you” and “what are you up to now.” to be more meaningful (as meaningful as it gets when alcohol is involved.) Socially, you were there. You contributed to the conversation occasionally- laughing when something was funny, nodding if you agreed with something, sprinkling in a “nah” when you didn’t agree with something else.

Occasionally though, you would stare at the amber liquid in your cup. It was taking everything in you not to gag when you took yet another sip. The cup is put down beside you, you don’t think you’ll be acquiring that taste anytime soon. Said cup gets to sit there for approximately thirty seconds before it finds residence in Yoongi’s hands. He’s drinking your drink. Yet you can’t find it in you to complain because you really, really don’t like it. You decide to leave well enough alone.

It’s not until a new cup is placed before you by the drink thief himself that decide to look at him. He’s not looking at you, of course he’s not. He never looks at you when he’s with his friends. Not that it matters, not that you care. At least it was nice of him to get you a new drink, maybe he’s a semi-decent human being. Your thoughts momentarily pause when instead of an involuntary gag, a pleasant, surprised hum escapes your lips.

His eyes have crinkled at the corners because someone just said something funny. He’s using a single hand behind him as support and is nursing a drink with the other. He looks as carefree as ever. You can’t imagine that he’d take note of something so small, something like that- even if you grew up together. You'll try to brush it aside, though you doubt it's something that you’d be likely to forget about anytime soon. There’s a warmth blooming in your chest, you’ll blame it on the alcohol from earlier.

Christmas was just around the corner. The crisp, chilly air and stressed college students cramming for finals were more than enough to let you know the festive season was upon you. You sat in the new sandwich shop that you believe was strategically nestled between the library and the café. A cup of coffee remained untouched to your left and sandwich in hand, you were currently with your friend, Hyewon, who was not so subtly trying to get you to agree to go on a blind date. She's been trying ever since she found out your last date was almost a year ago, that it never ended well romantically, that you and Hoseok decided to become friends and still are today. "I'm telling you, he's really handsome and smart," said between a mouthful of her sandwich and a sip of her coffee. "My sister said he graduated from Yonsei this year with like, first class honours in economics or something."

"I'm just... still thinking about it."

And the truth is, you were. Ever since the topic came up nearly a month ago after one of your shared classes. After Hyewon got over her shock because "A girl like you should have dates every weekend," she took it upon herself to find you a date.

It's not that you were against dating, and relationships. During your earlier college years you tried a few times. Your first date tried to explain the basics of aerospace engineering to you, the thing you were majoring in. He was a history major, said he couldn't believe a girl could actually study something like that and asked how much your parents paid to get you in the program. You laughed it off and attempted to push it aside, that date ended early. You went on a few more dates after that but it always felt the same, like you were trying too hard to impress your date, like they weren't trying hard enough to get to know you. You decided to just focus on your studies. At the very least, you knew you were good at that.

“Please tell me yes- there’s a drone show next Friday at the Han River. You guys could watch it.” Hyewon looked so excited you promised to let her know by Monday. She squealed and you were sure you would have seen your ancestors if she had hugged you any tighter, told you not to forget to call her as she bounced off to her last final.

You remained in your corner seat. Unsure why you didn’t just leave with your friend. A couple of girls sat at the table behind you. While you were nursing your now cold hot chocolate you were hearing bits and pieces of their conversation. It’s not that you wanted to eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help the way your ears perked up when one of them mentioned ‘medical student from Yonsei’ and ‘date’ in the same sentence.

“I’m telling you he’s pretty quiet, and cute. I don’t even know how they got him to agree.”

“Ugh! I’m so jealous... should I transfer?”

“Shut up and look at the picture Kangchul sent me.”

“People like this really study medicine? If he looks like this, what will you wear on the date?”

“I dunno, it’s next Friday. You should come over and help me get...”

You didn’t stay to hear anymore.

Hours later you lay wide awake in your bedroom. Sleep has been evading you. It’s not like there was only one medical student at Yonsei. There were hundreds of medical students. It didn’t have to be the one you were thinking of. The odds were... low. You paid no mind to the tiny voice that was telling you that “the odds are never zero, though.”

You reached for your phone, surely you could always text the person in question, it’s not like you think he would hide it from you but in the same breath, it’s not like he has any reason to tell you if he were going on a date. Why would he? Your fingers hovered over his chat until the screen finally timed out. This seemed to wake you from your daze, the phone was tossed to the side. Why were you thinking of him anyway? If it were him, if he was going on a date, it definitely wouldn’t affect you. It shouldn’t, you won’t let it.

It was 8:44 am the following day when you texted Hyewon that she could arrange the blind date.

A week and a half later you found yourself standing outside of a restaurant in Hongdae. Your date was to meet you there so you could have a meal then head over to the drone show your friend mentioned. You’ve been waiting for... a while. Yunseo was running late and to make matters worse, when you pulled out your cell phone you found it was dead. It was cold, and you were cold, and maybe you were just stood up for this date. You wanted to cry, you thought it probably wouldn’t be that bad if you just broke down on the streets. Probably no one would notice if you did anyway.

Slowly, white flurries started falling from the sky. Couples started walking even closer together, some laughing at whatever they found funny. They all looked really cute. You really hated the cold, maybe you should have just stayed home. “You know,” came a familiar, deep voice breaking through the frigid atmosphere. “In my experience, standing in the cold like this is a sure fire way to catch a cold.”

You don’t need to turn around to know who that deep voice belongs to. You couldn't help the scoff that escaped you. Of course he would appear at a time like this. Why was he there and why did he have to show up just now when you were on the verge of a mental breakdown, probably. Your thoughts couldn't even spiral too far because now you were genuinely fighting back the tears that really, really wanted more than anything to be free. “Shut up, Yoongi. I don’t—” You couldn't help the way your voice wavered, or the sniffle, all things considered. “I can’t deal with this right now.” You didn’t hear a response from him, so you assumed that he had left. You didn’t expect him to be in front of you, slightly bending his head to meet your eyes with his brows furrowed. You hated when he looked at you like this. Like he could see right through you, like he knows things even you don't. You hate it, so you look away from his curious gaze. You didn't want him to find anything in yours.

It felt like hours before he gave up on his one sided staring competition. He released a sigh while undoing his scarf that was neatly wrapped around his neck. You shook your head, wanted to tell him it wasn't necessary, you didn't need his scarf- that you were fine. The words never even got to leave your mouth before he started putting his scarf on you anyway. “Don’t even right now ___, you’re cold.” It wasn't a question. He said it like he knew, he said it while he took his time to wrap his scarf around your neck, making sure to cover your nose. You think you’ve seen this film before.

《Some years ago》

You have been walking for quite some time now. Quiet footsteps crush dead leaves and twigs a small distance behind you. You’re not afraid, mildly annoyed maybe. But you’ve no need to be afraid because you already know who’s behind you. He’s been trailing after you in silence since you stormed off the campsite earlier in a desperate attempt to cool off. It was too much. The woodsmoke, the cheeriness, the ever persistent Song Eunji and her effortlessly beautiful messy bun hanging off the side of *your* neighbour, on your family camping trip. It was one thing to have to endure her incessant hovering while at school, but you’d think that at least your weekend far out of town would have been peaceful. Turns out that the universe had other plans for you. Not only did you have to endure Min Yoongi, but you also had to stomach having the president of his fanclub- whose family just also happened to plan a camping trip at this spot- here too. How fantastic.

You hold your thin jacket tighter against your body as you make your way deeper into the forest. Every step you took only seemed to strengthen the already growing irritation inside you. You longed for the warmth of your bed, the comfort of your home. Surely there would be nothing there to upset you this much. “Yoongi, either catch up or leave. You’re smart enough, I’m sure that you’re at least a little aware how strange it is to stalk after a woman at night.”

“Yn, you’re smart enough, I’m sure you’re aware that this is hardly considered stalking.” Still, his footsteps carried that steady pace and you could almost hear the smugness in his voice as he continued. “I’m simply taking a walk, I’d be more than happy to catch up if you’d let me.” You could almost imagine how his face looks right now, a raised eyebrow, his (annoying) little smirk, maybe his head was even tilted to the side. You hoped he could see your eyes rolling from behind you. All of that didn’t matter though, cause either way the chill breeze took the challenge in his tone and brought it straight to your ear.

“Yeah, well you could walk somewhere else.” He certainly had no issue being other places before, you thought. You didn’t see why he was being so difficult. Although, you’ve known Min Yoongi for what feels like your entire life. If he did have a middle name, perhaps it would be something along the lines of annoying, stubborn-

“It’s fine.”

Wind came dancing through the trees and brought not just a disturbance to your quiet surroundings, but also a drop in the already cold temperature you’ve been trying to ignore since you left the warmth of the campfire. Involuntarily, your body shivered. Though it was only trying to warm itself up, you suppose.

“Here, put this on.” He was shrugging off his own jacket. You hadn’t realised you’d stopped. Hadn’t realised that Yoongi found his way beside you. Maybe your middle name is stubborn too, because you were already shaking your head and pushing his hand and his jacket away, wanted to tell him he could keep his jacket, that you would warm up just fine on your own soon enough. It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Would you stop pretending like you’re not literally freezing cold right now,” He just puts the jacket over you anyway. “Just take it.” With no other choice (you were freaking freezing), you begrudgingly put your arms through the sleeve. You watched as he proceeded to fasten the buttons with what you’ll assume resembles care on his face- no sign of displeasure anywhere.

“You do this after school too, why?” Memories all bleed into each other from all the times he’s placed a jacket round your shoulders, or a scarf round your neck. The few times he’d given you gloves to wear. You know he knows what you’re referring to.

“Because,” He’s fixing the jacket collar around your neck. “Your mom would kill me if I let you catch a cold.”

He couldn’t be serious. To think that was the reason... “You don’t need to do it anymore.”

He hummed in response. “Yeah? Stop leaving your jacket and I won't have to give you mine all the time, deal?” His left hand ruffled your hair all while you glared at him. Oftentimes, despite your extensive vocabulary, you find it hard to find words to describe Yoongi and just settle for thinking that he’s so him. Right now, he was being very much him, even more so than usual.

A sudden high pitch screech pulls you out of your brooding and launches you into Yoongi’s arms, a scream escapes you. Surprised, his arms wrap around you while he looks around. “What was that?!” You were whispering, screaming, a unique mix of both things.

“I don’t know.” Your companion sounded as calm as ever, you weren't sure if that was a good or bad thing. But you couldn't focus on that right now.

“Will it kill us?”

“I don’t know.” You felt him shrug. Your annoyance from earlier resurges, but with a new friend along with it, fear.

“Well Yoongi, what do you know exactly, hmm?”

“I know the way back to the campsite.” You looked up at him, seemingly just realising you were quite cozily nestled in his arms. You jumped back, almost tripping on a rock, or tree root, you couldn’t tell as it was dark. But what you could see was the gentle look that remained on his face as he steadied you, you weren't sure how it made you feel. All you did know was that it was too much.

“Well, um…” You decided to turn your head away, clear your throat. Yes, that was a good idea. “Lead the way, I guess.” Yoongi chuckled, and soon you felt a warmth enveloping your hand. Similar to the warmth simultaneously growing in your own chest. This was the first time he’d ever held your hand. You stood shocked, frozen, unable to move. Unable to ask him why.

“Come on, so you don’t fall again. This just like the day I just moved int-”

“Oh my gosh, shut up about that will you!” That seemed to do the trick. Just when you think he’d give that story a rest, he’d find a way to remind you again. How infuriating. Still, you both couldn’t help the laughs escaping your lips as you head back hand in hand to your loved ones who were probably waiting for you at the campsites. Maybe you shouldn't have stormed off, but as the moon started peaking through the clouds lighting up your rugged path, you were glad he came to find you.

《Present day》

When he gently took your hand in his, your mind found itself back to the present where you stood in snowy streets as opposed to the serene forest. Was he really always like this? “C'mon.” He'd turned towards you, his head motioning in a general direction. Your mind wanting to stay lost in thought for a bit more, feet remained planted on the ground for a minute, maybe longer. Yet Min Yoongi remained a perfect picture of patience. Maybe it was his lack of frustration, or the fact that you didn't not trust him. But you let him lead you down the Hongdae streets, you follow with your hand in his.

AN: Thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Now, I had every intention for this to be a tiny lil one-shot but the story clearly had other ideas in mind. I'm working on part 2 as we speak so hopefully I can share it with you all soon.

That being said, Special thanksies to my mooties @livingformintyoongi and @moochii-daisies for their encouragement and for accommodating my yapping 🥹🩷 and not to mention @oddinary4bts when I felt stuck and was at the brink of putting this fic to the infinite sides.

This, as well other fics that I'll post in the future will be cross-posted to Ao3 because of popular demand (1 person suggested), but yes it was by popular demand 🤭

Taglist

@livingformintyoongi @moochii-daisies @abcdefghilovejk2121 @ktownshizzle @peoniesnro

[inkyquillstories]

A Firstborn with Second Thoughts (A Body Swap Story)

Note: Lucky for you if you saw the original post (which was flagged for some reason?), here's a definitely more SFW version I guess haha

(Brandon) 

(Tom)

My name is Brandon, and I have an older brother named Tom. We’re brothers, but you wouldn’t think so at first glance because we look so different. Tom is tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular, while I’m shorter, thinner, and lack his athletic build. Our personalities are just as contrasting—he’s outgoing, carefree, and not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, whereas I’m bookish, reserved, and tend to overthink things. Despite our differences, we’ve always had a relatively good relationship. He’d tease me sometimes, but never in a mean-spirited way, and I’d help him with his homework when he got stuck. We had a balance, and it worked.

However, when Tom went off to college, things took a turn. He fell in with a reckless crowd—guys who cared more about drinking, partying, and skipping class than actually studying.

(Tom having fun in college) 

It wasn’t like he was ever the academic type, but his natural charisma had always carried him through. That didn’t work in college. Without discipline or structure, his grades plummeted. My parents were livid, especially my father, who had worked hard to send Tom to a good school. They weren’t about to let all that money go to waste. Meanwhile, I was in my senior year of high school, excelling academically, and on track to get into a prestigious university. I knew my parents wished Tom had my dedication, but I never expected them to take such drastic action to fix things.

When Tom came home for the holidays, our parents sat us down for a serious talk. They explained their plan: they were going to use a secret family heirloom—a body-swapping talisman—to switch our bodies. 

I thought they were joking at first, but when I saw how grave my father’s expression was, I knew they meant it. Tom was furious, shouting that this was insane, while I sat there in shock, unable to process what they were saying. Before we could protest any further, my father held up the talisman and muttered a phrase in a language I didn’t recognize. Everything went dark.

When I woke up, I felt... different. My sheets felt tight, my body felt heavier.

(Brandon waking up) 

Confused, I sat up and noticed that my clothes—my usual loose-fitting boxers—were now straining against a larger frame. I glanced down and saw muscular legs where my thin ones should have been. 

Panic surged through me, and I stumbled out of bed, rushing to the mirror. The reflection staring back at me wasn’t mine—it was Tom’s. His chiseled jaw, his deep-set eyes, his broad chest. It was me. I was him. 

A scream from the next room startled me—my scream. I ran to Tom’s room and found my old body flailing in oversized clothes. Tom—now in my body—looked horrified.

Our parents were waiting for us in the living room, prepared for our reactions. They handed us each a bag containing our new belongings—phones, wallets, even keys to our respective rooms. We were expected to swap everything, down to our names. “From now on, you will call each other by your new names,” my father ordered. “No slip-ups. Act like nothing happened. If you disobey, this arrangement will last even longer.” I looked at Tom, my former self, and saw the helplessness in his eyes. But what choice did we have?

That night, I sat in Tom’s room, getting acquainted with his life. I stood in front of the mirror, my breath shallow as I took in the reflection that wasn’t mine. Tom’s face—my face now—stared back at me, a mix of confusion and curiosity in those deep-set brown eyes. I lifted a hand to touch my jaw, feeling the rough stubble beneath my fingertips. My old face had been smooth, youthful, almost delicate. But this? This was strong, angular, rugged. My fingers traced the defined cheekbones, the squared jaw, the broader nose that gave me a more commanding presence. Even the way my eyebrows furrowed looked different—more intense, more... powerful. 

Even my posture felt different, more naturally dominant. My legs, too—thicker, stronger. My calves flexed with every slight movement, and my feet… even they felt bigger, more grounded. I wiggled my toes, marveling at how different they looked, longer and more substantial than my old ones.  

In the next few days, I stood in front of Tom’s closet, my fingers brushing against the rows of neatly folded shirts and stacks of jeans. Everything felt bigger, heavier. I grabbed one of his t-shirts and pulled it over my head. The fabric stretched comfortably across my broader chest and arms, fitting perfectly in a way my old clothes never had. 

Downstairs, Tom—now in my old body—stood awkwardly in my usual hoodie and sneakers, fidgeting with the sleeves. “This is so weird,” he muttered, staring at me like he was looking in a funhouse mirror. “We actually have to go out like this?”

I smirked, grabbing the keys to his car. “Unless you suddenly know how to drive, yeah.”

His scowl deepened, but he followed me outside without another word. As I slid into the driver’s seat, the leather felt familiar yet new beneath me. I adjusted the mirrors, and for a split second, I caught my reflection—Tom’s reflection—staring back at me from the rearview mirror then I looked at the pedals and loved my new perspective. I grinned. “Let’s go.”

We pulled into town, and from the moment we stepped out of the car, it was like I had stepped into a whole new world. “Yo, Tom!” Someone waved at me from across the street, and without hesitation, I lifted a hand in response. A couple of guys I vaguely recognized from Tom’s social media clapped me on the back as I walked by, greeting me with easy confidence.

“Tom, man, you hitting the gym later?” one of them asked.

I laughed, flexing an arm instinctively. “You know it.”

The words rolled off my tongue effortlessly, and it felt… right. No one questioned me. No one looked past me. They saw Tom—the strong, charismatic, confident guy. And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t just the shy, smart little brother. I was someone people noticed. Someone people respected.

Tom, trailing slightly behind me in my old body, kept shifting uncomfortably. He barely spoke, barely made eye contact. The contrast between us was stark. I had spent my whole life in his shadow, and now, here he was—quiet, uncertain, small. And me? I was the one towering over him, leading the way.

As we drove back home, I caught my reflection in the window once more. The smirk on my face wasn’t just Tom’s. It was mine. I dropped my brother home and proceeded to the gym.

Eventually, I had to go to college and college life as Tom was surprisingly easy. I went to his classes, aced his exams, and even managed to keep up his social life. His friends were shocked at how “responsible” I had become, but they admired it. My parents were pleased with my performance, thinking they had fixed Tom’s future. What they didn’t know was that I still partied—I just balanced it better than Tom ever did. I was living his life better than he ever could.

Meanwhile, Tom struggled in my old life. He hated the long study sessions, the lack of social outings, the expectation to be quiet and diligent. He constantly complained, but he knew that failing to keep up my grades would mean a prolonged swap. I tried to encourage him, but he was miserable. He didn’t want my life. But the more time passed, the less I wanted to give his back.

Months went by, and I grew more attached to my new life. I loved the strength, the confidence, the admiration. When I came home for the semester break, Tom stared at me and muttered, “You even look bigger.” I smirked and shrugged. “Kept up your gym routine.”

My parents announced that they had decided to extend the swap indefinitely, claiming that everything was better this way. Tom clenched his fists, but he had no choice but to accept it. Me? I was secretly thrilled.

Later that night, I found Tom sitting on the edge of my—his—bed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees. His expression was distant, frustrated. I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest. “Alright,” I said, breaking the silence. “Let’s go over some things.”  

Tom let out an annoyed sigh. “Seriously?”  

I nodded, stepping inside and shutting the door. “Yes, seriously. You keep slipping up, and if we mess this up, Dad will keep us like this even longer. So, let’s make sure you know who you are.” I sat across from him, leveling him with a firm gaze. “What’s your name?”  

He gritted his teeth, then mumbled, “Brandon.”  

“Louder.”  

“Brandon,” he said again, voice bitter.  

“Good. How old are you?”  

He shifted uncomfortably. “Eighteen.”  

I tilted my head. “And I am?”  

His jaw tightened. “Twenty.”  

“Who’s the older brother?”  

He swallowed hard before answering. “You are.”  

A small smirk tugged at my lips. “That’s right. And what do you like to do in your free time?”  

Tom hesitated before mumbling, “Study. Read. Play strategy games.” The words sounded foreign coming from his mouth—my mouth.  

“And what do I like to do?” I asked, pressing further.  

His fists clenched in his lap. “Work out. Party. Hang out with friends.”  

I nodded approvingly. “See? You’re getting the hang of it.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Listen, you need to start thinking of yourself as Brandon. You need to act like him, talk like him, live like him. The more you resist, the harder it’ll be. The sooner you accept it, the easier your life will be.”  

Tom looked up at me, and for the first time, I saw something in his eyes I hadn’t expected—defeat. A reluctant acceptance of what was happening. He exhaled slowly and muttered, “Fine.”  

“Good,” I said, standing up. “Now, repeat after me. ‘I am Brandon. I am eighteen. I’m the younger brother.’”  

Tom clenched his jaw, but he obeyed. “I am Brandon. I am eighteen. I’m the younger brother.”  

“And I am?”  

He swallowed hard. “You are Tom. You are twenty. You are the older brother.”  

I grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “Now you’re getting it.”  

As I walked out of the room, I felt a deep satisfaction settle in my chest. The more Tom accepted his new role, the more permanent it all felt. And honestly? That was exactly what I wanted. To solidify this, I changed all his social media passwords, cutting off any connection he had to his old life. If he wanted to live as me, he had to fully embrace it. I wasn’t going to let him live vicariously through the life I had made better.

One evening, after dinner, I found my dad in his study, sipping a glass of whiskey while reading through some paperwork. He barely looked up when I stepped inside, only acknowledging me with a small nod. I hesitated for a moment before speaking.  

“Dad,” I began, keeping my voice steady, “how long do you plan on keeping us like this?”  

He sighed, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “I haven’t given it much thought,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair. “But everything is working out, so why change it?”  

His words settled over me like a warm blanket. I nodded, suppressing the grin threatening to creep onto my face. I had expected some vague reassurance that this was temporary, but instead, he was practically confirming what I had already been feeling—this wasn’t temporary at all.  

Dad stood up and, to my surprise, pulled me into a firm hug. “I’m proud of you, son,” he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.  

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. He had never said those words to me before—not when I aced my exams, not when I won academic competitions, not even when I got accepted into top-tier colleges. But now, as Tom, as his firstborn, he finally said it. And for the first time, I truly felt like his eldest son.  

As I stepped back, I saw the way he looked at me—with pride, with respect. It was a look he had never given the old Brandon. And maybe that was why I felt no guilt when I realized I didn’t want to go back.  

Dad was happy. The new Brandon had adjusted. And I… I loved this. Being Tom felt right. More and more, it was starting to feel like a permanent arrangement. And honestly? I was perfectly okay with that.

The End.

[sc0tters]

Broken Hearts and Newfound Promises | Mikko Rantanen

summary: when Mikko gets traded it is finally the push that he needs to ask you out.

request: yes/no

warnings: minor bits of swearing, mentions of a sexual relationship but nothing explicit.

word count: 1.82k

authors note: I finished this weeks update for tommorow and got this announcement when I woke up, so the only logical way to process this with the free time I had was to write about it.

It wasn’t meant to end like this. 

You had met Mikko six years ago after ending up in line for the bathroom at the club.

Music echoed in your ears as you made your way to the bathroom “shit baby there you are!” You felt a hand rest on your back making you almost jump in the process. 

A tall blonde boy stood there “was looking all over to show this nice girl here who my girl was.” The panicked smile on his face made you nod “thanks so much for looking after him.” You placed your hand on his chest feeling him wrap his arm around your waist. 

It made the girl frown “he just gets lost so often.” You added squeezing his cheek “guess you really do have a girlfriend.” She muttered walking off back to the crowd of people. 

The boy smiled as he looked at you “I am so sorry thank you for that.” He pulled away from you, finally giving you back your space “no worries.” You shook your head, knowing that you would have been grateful for the help if the shoe was on the other foot.

You pushed your freshly curled hair out of your face “just one question.” You pursed your lips together “how did you know I was single?” You crossed your arms letting your lips form a smirk when his cheeks turned red. 

He scratched at his throat “I saw you turning down those guys all night.” Mikko pointed out making him run your fingers down his arm “you been watching me huh?” You cocked your head, taunting him. 

You licked your lips “besides how did you know that didn’t mean I was lesbian or something?” That made his cheeks turn red making you laugh “well that one was a gamble but now with the way you’ve been staring at my lips I really don’t think it is the case.” Mikko shrugged bringing his hand up to cup your cheek. 

All of a sudden it seemed you had forgotten that you needed to pee “well why don’t you test your little theory then.” You smiled feeling his other hand travel to the back of your neck pulling you into a kiss.

That memory was one that lived in your brain as a core memory. It was one you held with such joy, but it was funny how fast those memories could be tarnished so fast.

𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗸𝗼 𝗥𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗲𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗱𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗖𝗮𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗮 𝗛𝘂𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗲𝘀

The headline stared back at you from your laptop, no matter how much you blinked or rubbed your eyes there was no changing it. Mikko was leaving you and there was nothing that you could do to change it. 

You felt pathetic, feeling like your heart had been taken out of your chest and stomped on before someone tried to put it back in you. You never expected to feel so upset over someone you weren’t meant to care about like that. Mikko wasn’t yours, not really. 

Sure, he was in your bed most nights, celebrating the highs and mourning the lows. Beyond the sanctity of your place and his, it was as if you were just friends. At least that was what you were meant to be, each biting your tongues with every romantic glance someone sent your way. 

Mikko put up with it as he knew you were never going to actually entertain these other guys. But that never made it easy, the looks he would send you were full of love because even if you weren’t his he wished you were. 

Falling into the friends-with-benefits agreement that you had originally suited you both. After getting out of a messy relationship from your side and a long-term one from Mikko’s, you both needed something fun. And it was so easy, getting to call him up when you wanted company or when you craved him in your bed. There was never a time where either of you felt any real pressure as you both got what you needed from the agreement. 

But that all started five and a half years ago and things had changed, Mikko wanted to start settling down which was something he was desperate to do with you. He had this whole plan to finally ask you about going from being the girl who was just in his bed to being at his side, Mikko wanted you to be his girlfriend. 

The boy spent a few nights wanting to scream it from the roof of his apartment building, but now the trade threatened to light a fire up under his ass. He knew that if he didn’t finally talk to you, then he stood to lose you forever. 

A knock came from your door, snapping your attention away from the screen. You stayed quiet, wondering who it could have been “c’mon kisu I know that you’re in here.” Mikko sighed, knocking on your door again “go away.” You mumbled, not ready to see him because in some fragment of your mind if you never saw him then it was not really happening.

Mikko pinched the bridge of his nose, going to knock on your door again before he heard your shuffling in your apartment. Your feet weren’t as quiet on the wooden floor as you would have hoped “don’t tell me you came to say goodbye.” Your head rested against the door, unaware that the boy was doing the same thing on the opposite side. 

The pain in your voice broke his heart “can we please just talk?” The hockey player begged, just wanting to hold you. 

You sighed, taking a step back to finally open the door for him. You stood in one of his hoodies which made your cheeks turn red as he took in the sight of you “fuck.” Mikko’s voice broke seeing how your tears had stained your skin “I can’t believe it.” You cried almost running into his arms, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

The Fin frowned running his fingers through your hair, feeling your tears soak his shirt “I know kultsi.” He cooed attempting to comfort you.

It broke his heart hearing the sounds of your sobs “it’s not fair.” You shook your head “let it out.” Mikko nodded rubbing your back.

He maneuvered the both of you to get back into the apartment so he could shut the door behind him. With the new sense of privacy, you gripped at his shirt “what do you want to talk about?” You asked, sniffling as you brought your hand up to wipe your eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie “I couldn’t leave without seeing you.” His words broke your heart even more. 

Mikko tucked your hair behind your ear “I don’t want you to go.” You sighed watching him nod “I don’t want to leave you like this.” Mikko confessed, sucking at his teeth. 

You reached for his hand “then don’t leave me.” You pleaded wanting to get on your knees to beg him if it called for as much “if only it was that simple.” Mikko would have, honestly if he had the choice of never leaving your apartment again he would take it. To him that was an equivalent of winning the lottery.

He watched you sway yourself back and forth “look, I can visit and see you and see you all the time.” Mikko offered but that wasn’t enough “I want you.” Those words him cock his head wondering if he had heard your correctly.

Mikko pushed his hair out of his face “you don’t know how much I wanted to hear you say that.” He went to hold your hand but you stopped him “no Mikko I want you.” You repeated those words, with a little more determination.

You tucked your hair behind your ears “I want to be the one who gets to be the one you come home to.” It was something he already did most nights to begin with “I stopped wanting us to just be sex, I wanted to be the one who gets to support you loud and proud and not just from my living room.” You explained, biting at the inside of your cheek as you watched him remain silent “please just say something.” You begged shutting your eyes as his silence felt like a new level of today’s nightmare. 

Mikko smiled “remember that night when you came to the game that I got that hatty?” He asked as you slowly opened your eyes to look at him “and when I got here, you analysed all of my goals, giving me your full game review.” It was a memory that made your thighs squirm. Mikko spent the night listening to you babble on about how good he had been while he lay between your thighs treating you like you were his last meal. 

You smirked remembering how in awe he was of you that night “I do.” You nodded cocking your head “that was the night where I was this close to asking you to be my girlfriend.” When he went home he kicked himself for not just asking that five-word question. 

He brought his thumb up to dry your cheek “I hate that you cried over this.” It really did break his heart that you were so upset by that news “don’t want to lose you.” You explained, shrugging your shoulders as he nodded “you’re never gonna lose me.” Mikko was honest, you were (un)fortunately stuck with him for as long as time would allow.

You smiled “can I kiss you?” Your question made him grin like a schoolboy “I don’t recall you asking me to be your boyfriend.” His words made you roll your eyes as you went to go back into your apartment. 

Mikko shook his head wrapping his hand around your wrist to pull you back to him, his lips locked with yours before you had a chance to berate him. The kiss made your head buzz, feeling his hands grip at your sides “wait.” You pulled away, raising your hand to stop him. 

He grew concerned, wondering if he had overstepped “when do you leave?” Your question reminded him of the gloom that surrounded Colorado right now “only tomorrow afternoon.” You swore you were hearing angels sing around him. 

Mikko watched you push yourself onto your tippy toes so you could kiss him again “how about we spend your last night here then?” You smiled pecking his lips again. 

He smirked picking you up as he threw you over his shoulder “Meeks!” You squealed making him laugh “I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend it.” He brought you into your room wanting to spend the night the right way. 

Just one time when he didn’t have to think about the trade because right now that is tomorrow’s problem. Tonight, he wanted to enjoy being your boyfriend and he was certain that you’d enjoy it too.

[uracutieraka]

Something stupid

★・・・・・・★

The time is right, your perfume fills my head

The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue

And then I go and spoil it all

By saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you"

★・・・・・・★

Kuroo Tetsuro x F!reader

Tw: nothing! Lol!

★・・・・・・★

Synopsis; you and kuroo grew up together and one slightly intoxicated night you admit things you probably shouldn’t have.

★・・・・・・★

You and Kuroo met when you guys were 6 years old.

You had just moved in to your new home only to be greeted by a tall dark haired boy asking if you wanted to play volleyball.

You, ever so excited about the opportunity to already make a new friend took him up on his offer.

He tricked you.

He didn’t want to actually play volleyball, he just wanted you to throw the ball to him.

You were okay with this though, you thought the chatty boy was funny and cool.

“So your names y/n but can I just call you n/n? It sounds way cooler. No offense.”

“N/n is way cooler Tetsuro!” You chirped back.

“Cool. N/n it is then!”

Something about how sure of everything he was lured you in.

Even when asking questions it’s like he already knew what your answer would be.

That’s what kept you coming around him, he intrigued your little brain.

He felt the same about you.

You had big eyes that were always so full of wonder and joy that he wished he could have.

Tetsuro was smart. Extremely smart. He had heard his parents say he was too smart for his own good so many times he had lost count.

He hated being the smart kid.

Always knowing what the adults were talking about had made him stressed. More stressed than a six year old should ever be.

He had found himself bored with life. Dreading big questions all the time.

His parents fought a lot, he wondered how long it would take for them to get a divorce.

Divorce. He learned what that was a year ago when he over heard his mom mention getting one to her friend one night, while his dad was out of town for work.

‘I just cant stand this anymore. Im only here for Tetsu.’

‘Have you thought about… you know?’

‘Divorce? Yeah i have. I just- I don’t know how to even start.’

His mom was unaware of her son’s presence, otherwise the conversation would have been over the second she knew.

‘Divorce’ had repeated in his mind for the whole weekend.

Finally when school came around he asked his teacher.

“What’s a divorce?”

The teacher, thinking nothing of it, answered.

“It when a married couple breaks up.”

It took 3 more years for them to leave each other.

But he was lucky. He had you.

By the time you two were nine he had surpassed you in every academic way possible.

‘N/n! N/n! Guess what?!’

‘What?!’

‘I’m reading at the same level as middle school second years do!’

‘Wow Tetsu! You’re so smart!’

You didn’t care though, you always remained proud of him. Openly expressing it all the time too.

When you were 10 though, there was a suddenly shift between you two.

A younger kid from down the block named Kenma had started coming around.

Practicing volleyball with Tetsuro everyday nearly.

You weren’t one to get jealous but something about this whole situation made your stomach hurt.

The boy you had known for three years was pushing you aside for someone he had known for 3 months! How unfair!

‘You never play with me anymore Tetsu!’

‘Well yeah, Ive been busy!’

‘Playing with Kenma! It’s not fair!’

‘You’re dramatic!’

You guys didn’t talk for a whole year after that.

You had never been so lonely in your life.

On your 11th birthday though, Kuroo decided enough was enough.

He used all his allowance money to buy you the biggest stuffed animal he could find.

Rushing over to your house with it he practically ran your door down trying to get in.

‘Happy birthday n/n! Stop being mad at me! Im sorry! I miss you!’

A few years later, you had came around to the idea of Kenma. Creating a trio you three became unstoppable.

Middle school was rough for all three of you.

Kenma was a year younger than both of you so seeing him was harder to do than you thought it would be.

You decided Friday nights were mandatory sleepover nights because of this.

That’s how you ended up here, eight years later, on the floor of your new apartment with Kuroo.

Kenma’s mom said he needed to get his grades up before he even thought about asking to go out again.

It had been like this the past 6 Friday’s.

Just the two of you, because Kenma couldn’t get his damn grades up.

“Well maybe if you stopped bleaching your hair you wouldn’t have so many chemicals seeping into your brain so you’d actually focus in school.” A shit eating grin was plastered across the tall mans face.

“It’s not the bleach Tetsu. It’s the video games obviously.” You stated, propping your phone up so you both could properly see your younger friend.

“Both of you shut up!” Kenma groaned, throwing his face into a pillow on his bed.

“Welp! Maybe get your grades up!” Tetsuro said, sticking his tongue out tauntingly.

“Whatever asshole.”

‘Kozume! Watch your mouth!’ You heard kenma’s mom yell in the background.

“Whatever!,” he replied back, grabbing his phone and holding it close to his face. “Im gonna go now. Do my homework or something. I hate you both, bye!”

“Hate you, love you byeee!” You said pressing the big red ‘X’ in the corner of your screen.

Sighing you roll over on your mattress which is smack in the middle of your (soon-to-be) living room.

“Tetsuuuu,” you coo out, a sign you were up to something sneaky. “I have a surprise from my grandparents!”

“Oouuu what is it?” He said, matching your devious tone.

You hopped up and skipped over to your mostly empty fridge.

A pizza box and bottle of wine sat in it.

The pizza curtsey of your best friend, his ‘housewarming gift’ was dinner for the night.

And the bottle, a gift from your grandparents for turning 19 and moving out.

You grab the, now, chilled bottle and skip back out to the empty living room.

Lucky for you they also gifted you a corkscrew with it.

Sitting down infront of him you shake the bottle in his face.

“Oouuhh fancy, where’d ya’ get that?” A quizzical eyebrow shot up on the mans face.

“My grandparents. They said its a tradition and good luck to drink a bottle of wine when you get your first place.,” you huff looking down at the bottle in your hands. “I just think they’re cool as fuck and were trying to reason with my parents.” A small chuckle leaves your lips as you now look back up at the black haired man across from you.

“Hey nana l/n has always been awesome as hell! Cut my girl some slack!” He replies, reaching out and grabbing the bottle to inspect it himself.

You laugh at his response.

He’s always been so quick witted. It was one of his most charming traits, in your opinion.

“So! We gonna crack this bad boy open, or what?” You say, drawing his attention off the label.

“Yes, sorry!,” He smiles up at you apologetically. “Do the honors ms. l/n!”

You take the bottle from him and slam the cork screw in the end. After a moment of twisting a ‘POP!’ Sounds through the echo-y room.

“Hoorah!” He shouts, throwing his arms out wide in the air.

“You’re such a nerd!” You shout back.

“Whatever! Just fill my damn glass!” He shove the glasses in your face.

You stick your tongue out at him but do as he says, pouring the contents of the bottle out into the glasses.

After you fill each of them very generously to the half way point of the cups, you take a curious sip.

Your face contorts into a sour look.

“Ew! This is disgusting!”

“Really?” Kuroo asks, taking a cautious sip himself.

You watch as his face also turns sour.

“Oh my god thats horrible…”

You two stare at each other for a moment before bringing the glasses back up to your lips, both chugging the alcohol down, hoping to finish before the other one.

You finish your glass first and snatch the bottle off the floor, pouring another glass and doing the same thing.

He finished not long after you, waiting for you to fill your glass again before following your actions and refilling his.

After a few minutes of chugging down glasses you grab the bottle again, its empty.

“Damn!” You say, finally catching your breath.

You both are panting heavy at the lack of air intake.

“We finish it? Should be a few minutes before we start feeling it.” He finally says.

He was right.

10 minutes later you stand up to get some water to was the nasty after taste out of your mouth. But it hits you like a truck.

You wobble around for a second before giggling at your actions.

“Oop!” You slur out.

He laughs out behind you, standing to help you.

He trips slightly over his own foot, falling flat on to the ground.

Youre laughing so hard your stomach starts to hurt.

“Te- testu! Are- HAH are you okay?” You finally manage to ask through bursts of laughter.

He stands up, laughing just as hard as you.

“Yeah, im fine.” He says when he finally stands up straight.

He stumbles over to you.

“Where’s your speaker at?” He asks, brushing the front of his black t-shirt off.

You fumble around the counter, moving boxes around to find your bluetooth speaker.

You pull it out from behind a box and turn towards him.

“Here!” You hand it to him.

“Perfect..” he mumbles, fumbling in his pocket for his phone. He pulls it out and makes haste turning it on and connecting it.

A familiar song starts playing.

One that you two listened to on late night, alone in your old room.

Record old and scratchy, from your grandmothers collection.

You and Kuroo were far from just friends.

He was your first kiss, after all.

It happened when you were 14.

An off chance that kenma stayed home.

Kuroo had snuck a beer from his dads fridge the weekend prior, on a mandatory visit due to the divorce agreement.

He save it for this weekend hoping to share it with you and kenma, but kenma had a new game that had just released that day. He obviously had to play it right away.

You didn’t mind though, it was hard for you and Kuroo to find time to hangout just the two of you anymore.

You loved Kenma but Kuroo was your best friend first after all.

Kuroo stands up and reaches his arm out.

You grab it and stand up, facing him.

"So, I've been thinking, neither of us has kissed anyone yet," his face flushes and turns away from you as the words leave his mouth. "And it's probably better we get it out of the way before first year starts. That way we're not like, you know... behind?"

"Behind?" You ask.

"Yeah, all my friends on the volleyball team have had their first kisses and it's normal to do it. Plus we're best friends and friends can kiss too!" He says, a giant smile on his face.

"Friends... can kiss too?" You had never really thought about it like that, but you guess he's not wrong.

"Friends kiss all the time! It's normal in other cultures! Plus one little kiss couldn't hurt anybody," He leans forward to be slightly over you. "So? What'd ya' say?"

"Okay." you say quietly.

were you really about to kiss your best friend?

He leans forward and you close your eyes.

It was a quick and slobbery kiss to your lips.

He pulled away quickly. Unsure what to do next.

You blush and look away.

“Ok now we kissed so can we go back to what we were doing?

He laughs before sitting back down on your bed.

“Y/n?” Youre broken out of your train of thought by kuroo extending his hand out to you.

You grab it and he pulls you in close to his chest.

This was familiar.

You slightly inhale his smell while you adjust to the new position.

Your finger tips slowly trace up his arm, until your right hand meets his left one. He intertwines your fingers together.

At the same pace you slide your palm flat against his chest up to his shoulder.

He hums and closes his eyes and his right hand drops down to rest on your hip.

Kuroo enjoyed these moments. Slow and calming. They were a nice break from the busy schedule he had.

Everything and everyone around him was so intense all the time, but you? You had a way of stopping time and calming him down. And you didnt even have to do anything.

He begins swaying you two around languidly around the small kitchen.

Youre both humming to the tune of the song when he begins to sing softly.

“I practice every day, to find some clever lines to say, to make the meaning come true”

You giggle at his antics before joining in on his singing.

“But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late and I'm alone with you”

Its now his turn to chuckle at you, he instead opts to spin you around.

“Oh!” You say at the sudden movement. Stumbling a bit he grabs your waist to steady you out.

“Sorry.” He says, wide eyes trained on you.

“It’s okay dont worry!,” You say, resuming the position you were in before. “Let’s keep dancing.”

He nods, continuing to sway around.

"Y/n." He says, the sudden seriousness in his voice sends a chill down your spine.

"Hm?" You hum back in response, focused on where your hand intertwines with his.

"You know, this isn't, normal for friends right?"

You knew that. You weren't stupid.

Sneaking kisses when nobody was looking, intertwining your pinkies while you guys walked together, cuddling up whenever you guys could. All these things were things that couples did. Not friends.

"What about it?" You ask and he finally stops swaying you around, lowering his other hand to rest on your other hip.

He takes in a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling. When he looks back down at you he begins to talk.

"So, maybe we should talk about it?"

You bring both your hands to smooth over the fabric on his shoulders.

"Do we have too? I like whatever this is." You huff out, now looking up to make eye contact.

He rolls his eyes.

"Yes! We obviously have too!" He's hurt at your response.

He would much rather be your boyfriend than best friend. In fact the idea of forever being whatever he was to you drove him crazy.

You step backwards a bit, breaking from his hold.

Obviously you want him to be more than your best friend, but was it worth it?

If you say no you risk losing him either way.

"Look, Tetsuro," He cuts you off before you can finish.

"If you're going to say no then you have to answer another question." His eyes hold an emotion you've only seen when he loses a match. Defeat. Like he's already accepted the fact you would turn him down.

"What is it?" You ask, curious as to what he wants to know.

"If you say no, then you have to tell me what all of this was then? All the late nights sneaking around, the long glances, the flirting, everything. What did it mean to you?"

The question begins ringing in your ears.

'What did it mean to you'

"Everything." it's a quiet whisper, you're not surprised he didn't hear you.

"What?" He says, voice low.

"It means everything to me. That's why I'm scared to do anything about it. It's so perfect right now, what if everything changes?"

He studies you for a moment. Obviously looking up and down.

You shy away slightly at the attention.

He just can't believe something so beautiful could casually stand around in front of him.

You're in old running shorts and one of his t-shirts. It was beaten up from years of use.

Once he grew out of it last year he finally gave it to you.

Your hair is messy and frizzy from the humidity of moving and drinking. Falling out of the bun you put it in lazily hours ago.

"I understand where you're coming from, but I can't just do this forever." His reply doesn't shock you. It isn't fair to ask him to wait forever. You know that.

"I know..." You sigh, looking down at your socks.

"Can you stop being so emo and just be my girlfriend?" He sighs loudly, taking a step forward, hands finding your hips again.

His tone is teasing but you know he means the words he's saying.

"Promise to not let it ruin what we have?"

"Hmmm....," He puts a finger up to his chin and taps it, like he's pondering the idea.

"We have to acknowledge that there will be certain risks, such as, since you'd be my girlfriend if anything happened between us I'd probably die of a broken heart, im pretty sure."

"Oh my god you are such a nerd Tetsu!" you playfully swat at his chest, laughing.

"Ok but seriously, be my girlfriend."

"I gotta think about it."

"There's nothing to think about, be my girlfriend."

"There's a lot to think about actually."

"How about, you say yes to being my girlfriend right now, then think about it later?"

"That makes no sense."

"Who cares?"

You didn't realize he'd be slowly leaning down with each question until you feel his breath on your face.

You can smell the alcohol from earlier on his lips.

"I care." Your voice is stern.

He backs up again, removing his hands from you and leaning back against the counter top.

He's so tall that the counter is in line with his hips. Making it the perfect resting spot for him.

You lean on the counter opposite from him. The kitchen is small so you guys are still close enough that your feet are touching.

You put some weight back on to your wrists, allowing you to lift your leg up and give a small kick to his shin.

He looks up at you, taking his focus from where your feet were once entangled.

"What?" He asks, a hint of attitude lacing his tone.

"Don't do that Tetsuro."

He doesn't respond, but instead rolls his eyes.

You huff, not caring to argue with him.

"Look, I'll be your girlfriend," You watch as his face perks up, he goes to say something but you're quick to shove your hand out in to his face to keep him quiet. "But, you have to make one promise."

You drop your hand, allowing him to respond.

"I'll do anything!"

"Okay, and I'm so serious about this. Like, this is do or die."

He nods his head up and down quickly, showing his blind alliance to whatever you were going to say.

"Okay, So, I need you to promise that you'll stop making corny science jokes all the time."

He stops moving to stare at you, popping a brow up at you In annoyance.

"That's it?"

You nod 'yes' quickly.

"No can do sweetheart. Science jokes are baller."

He rolls his eyes again, grabbing you and pulling you back into him.

Your words are muffled due to him holding your face into his chest.

"And you can't say 'baller' to describe things anymore!"

"Uh-Uh! You're asking too much of me!"

He lets your head go and move your head back to look up at him.

"Fine, I'll be your girlfriend. No conditions."

"Swear?" A cheesy grin overtakes his face.

"Yeah. Swear."

He leans over, grabbing your face in both his hands, squishing your cheeks until you're lips poke out.

A giant wet kiss lands on your lips and he makes a show of popping his lips with a 'MWUAH'! He drops your face and you wipe the excess spit off your mouth.

"Okay one condition, you have got to stop giving such wet kisses! It's gross!"

He just laughs, signaling that won't happen anytime soon.

"Too late you already said swear."

You roll your eyes and push his chest a bit, finally going to grab a glass of water.

You guess having him as your boyfriend couldn't be so bad.

[ofdarknesseyes]

Toji shoved his hands into his pockets as he trailed behind Megumi, his gaze casual, yet his mind carefully cataloging every detail. The sight of his son—grown, healthy, and strong despite everything—was something he never thought he'd witness. Megumi wasn’t quite as tall as him yet, but for his age, he was probably a little above average. Lean but toned, with a strength he witnessed during their fight. The messy spikes of his hair brought back memories of his late wife, and Toji felt an unfamiliar softness tug at the corners of his lips. A small, fleeting smile.

He was really doing this, wasn’t he? Actually trying to do something good for once.

No matter what he did now, it wouldn’t erase the years he wasn’t there when Megumi needed him most. Toji knew that, yet this time, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. Even if he’d wanted to—God knows he tried—the pull was too strong. He thought about telling Megumi the truth, that it wasn’t out of some noble desire to be a better father. No, it was selfish. He just wanted to be near his son again. But how could Megumi even give him this chance? How could someone as kind-hearted as Megumi find it in himself to care for someone like him?

And yet, Toji saw it. The quiet love and unspoken yearning in Megumi’s eyes. It took all of his willpower not to break. Not to pull his son into his arms and promise, foolishly, that everything would be okay. Feelings like that were foreign to him, alien and uncomfortable, but he couldn’t shake them. Even so, he knew better than to give in. Those promises would do no good—not for him, not for Megumi.

So, he kept his distance, walking a few steps behind, pretending it didn’t weigh on him. At least, not for now.

When Megumi apologized for a blunt remark, Toji let out a snort, amused. There it was—bitterness, laced with a hint of anger. It was normal. Expected, even. Honestly, Toji would’ve been more concerned if Megumi didn’t feel any resentment toward him.

“You survived this long because I wasn’t in the picture,” he muttered, reaching out to poke Megumi lightly on the head.

The topic shifted when Megumi asked about Gojo. Toji hesitated, his answer slow and measured. He was unsure of how much he wanted to give away by saying too much but lying outright wasn’t his style either. Something vague would suffice for now. He’d cross the bridge of full disclosure when Megumi demanded it.

“I only knew him in passing mostly. Later on… I kicked his ass once, and then he kicked mine.”

Toji shrugged, smirking faintly, the ghost of mischief flickering in his expression. He was about to toss out a snarky follow-up when he felt it—a sudden, unmistakable surge of cursed energy. Instinct took over. He stepped closer to Megumi, positioning himself protectively in front of his son without a second thought.

“You can access weapons with your Ten Shadows right?” he asked, his tone sharp but calm. “I know I broke the last one I took from you, but think you can lend me something?”

The Sorcerer Killer didn’t need weapons to kill, not really, but they made things easier. And if it came to a fight, he was damn serious about protecting Megumi. His gut churned with unease, a bad feeling he couldn’t shake. The King of Curses was out there, and Toji knew in his bones that the bastard would come for his son. Not on his watch. If it came down to it, Toji would ensure Megumi survived, no matter the cost. Even if he didn’t make it out of this one, that wouldn’t matter. What mattered was Megumi…

There was love in Toji's eyes. Megumi might have been a fool for seeing it or believing that was what he was actually seeing,but he knew that look. Afte rall, it was the same look Megumi was giving to his father. Two pairs of green eyes filled with so much that was unsaid and that could not be said. Did his father love him? Toji said a lot of things last night, promised a lot of things, and held him but he never outright said he loved his son. Megumi told himself he didn't need to hear it.

His father was stepping up and with THAT look his his eyes. It made Megumi's heart feel so painfully full and empty at the same time. Megumi did want MORE to make up for lost time and also because he doubted one or both of them would make it out of the fight with The King of Curses. Resigned to his fate Megumi's eyes began to fill with more than just love. There was pain and longing there too. He wanted to press himself against his father and feel him again.

Feel how a child felt being LOVED. Megumi shook his head. What Toji was saying only confused him more. Why did he call Satoru a brat like he knew him? And what was with Toji claiming he was supposed to be dead? He eyed his dad with so many emotions but decided to leave the hotel room with his father in tow. it was weird marching into battle. There was so much riding on their involvement but the world around them was oblivious. The world felt more surreal than usual. Curses were attacking Tokyo but the world as a whole was still ignorant. His green eyes looked at his father through his peripheral view as they made their way to the elevator and descended to the main floor.

“ Won't you tell me.. how you know Gojo and ... if you really want to do this. You know I don't need protecting. I survived this far without you. ” That sounded harsh. He sighed. “ Sorry. ”

Outside the hotel lobby, the streets were emptier than usual. People were either smart enough to be warded off by mysterious deaths. When he felt a spike in cursed energy, Megumi instinctively moved close to his father until their bodies were touching.

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 1

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

A concept I've been toying with. Will probably post the complete fic to AO3 once I've got a few more chapters written, but though I would share some of the chapters here first to see what people think. This fic is inspired by the (musical mostly, but also novel) of Daddy Long Legs.

Warnings: Implications of SA - nothing graphic

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 1

Eat the rich.

Seriously.

But what about Bruce Wayne? He does so much good for Gotham. He’s so handsome and tall. His philanthropy has… Shut up. Bruce Wayne didn’t get a free pass just because he was pretty. He was still a billionaire who needed a healthy dose of reality before you even considered calling him a good guy. Rich people were fucking weird, and you were a true victim of the elite and those weird habits.

Sure, their lavish parties paid your bills, if just barely, but that didn’t mean you had to like being a pawn in their game. This party lasted later than you wanted it to. They always did.

Ice sculptures weren’t cheap. Usually, they cost a quarter million to make depending on the time of year and whether Mr. Freeze had recently wrought havoc on Gotham. You counted eight in total as you wove through the crowds with a silver platter laden with aged beef sprinkled with edible gold leaf. It didn’t even taste good, but they were a hit.

One couldn’t account for good taste in these circles.

You still smelled vaguely of expensive hors d’oeuvres as you trudged up the stairs that emptied onto Park Row. A still quiet greeted you on the street. You were alone. No oddly built young men with an affinity for classic literature and Amazonian superheroes nipping at your heels like an eager puppy. While not the most unpleasant encounter you’ve had on the Gotham subway, you learned quickly it was better to be wary and take the kindness of strangers with a grain of salt.

A midsummer breeze rustled your hair as you drew the hood of your yellow jacket. Yellow was a bold choice for this side of town, but it also diminished your chances of getting taken out by a speeding vehicle on your walk home. Safety and preservation at all costs—that’s what you’d been taught.

Puddles rippled under your feet, pooling between the cracks and potholes that littered the street. A storm passed during the party, leaving the sky clear and a half-moon to light your way.

Silver linings. You could have been caught in the rain.

Hugging your bag closer to your person, you ducked down a side street. Darkness enveloped you like a shroud. You might have disappeared entirely if not for your obnoxious hoodie. The narrow alley had just enough room for you to walk, brick and mortar scraping your palms as you pressed past a dumpster.

You wouldn’t usually take a shortcut this late at night. Keeping to the main arteries of Park Row were safer, if just barely, but you were also anxious to get home to finish your—

“Drop the bag.”

Something solid pressed against your spine. A gun? A knife? It was hard to tell through your jacket, and it was the unknown that tightened your chest and throat. Given the narrow alley, you were more likely to get hurt if you fought back, and if he had a gun, it was over anyway. You could scream, but no one would come. You weren’t completely helpless, but you also knew when to cut your losses. It’s not like you had much on you anyway.

Lifting your hands in defeat, you slid the bag off your shoulder and set it on the ground.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Nice and easy.”

A shiver crept up your spine, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see you shudder. You waited, hoping he would take the bag and bolt, but you were never that lucky. He pressed the object more firmly against your back as he snatched the bag. Not a knife, you decided, given that it didn’t feel all that sharp.

Your mind raced as you considered your next move. Muggers didn’t usually stick around unless they had an ulterior motive beyond theft. Dread bloomed heavy in your chest. You were a woman, alone at night, walking in a dangerous neighborhood.

It was bound to attract some attention because men like this one sucked. People would say it was your fault for taking a shortcut, your fault for wearing yellow, your fault for deigning to be a woman trying to live her life. You, alone, would bear the consequences and the blame. It wasn’t fair, but it was how society treated its victims.

You swallowed your vitriol and said, “I don’t have anything else on me.” The waver in your voice betrayed your fear, and you hated yourself for it. “Just take my bag and go.”

“Woah, sweetheart, what’s your rush? I thought you and I could have a little fun before we called it a n—”

Bang.

Your ears rang as the bullet sent bits of brick raining down over your heads. The pressure on your back disappeared. You felt no pain, but you patted yourself down anyway. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug, after all. When you concluded there were no extra holes to concern yourself with, you whipped around to face the man. It would have been smarter to run, but you’d be damned if you left without your bag.

A young man with gaunt cheeks and sandy blonde hair gripped your bag in one hand and a rusty lug wrench in the other. His attention settled on something over your head. You shoved aware your embarrassment as you followed the line of his gaze.

Red Hood stopped on the edge of the roof with a gun held aloft in one hand. He whistled sharply, the noise distorted by a modulator in his helmet. “Drop the bag. If you want to fuck around, I promise my next shot won’t miss.”

You blinked up at him in disbelief. Most dubbed Red Hood the hero of Park Row—at least to those that needed it. He was more of a thorn in the side of the crime syndicates that operated out of here. You were convinced he didn’t really exist. You’d never seen him, only the evidence of his work, but there were enough vigilantes traipsing about to make you question his existence.

The leather jacket over his plated uniform was a choice, but who were you to question the fashion choices of the man holding the gun.

Hood whistled again. “Last chance.”

With gritted teeth, the man tossed you bag and sprinted off. Its contents scattered across a nearby puddle. Your catering apron, a beaten wallet, and some loose-leaf paper. Your heart leapt into your throat.

Your paper!

You dropped to your knees to salvage what you could as a pair of heavy boots hit the ground behind you. Misery swirled in your chest as you wiped away the muddy water with the sleeve of your hoodie. To think, you’d been swindled by a coward with a lug wrench.

“You should be more careful.”

You licked your teeth as the ink bled before your eyes. Not only was the paper ruined, but Red Hood saw fit to lecture you. Could this night get any worse?

“Maybe that guy should learn not to mug people.” You turned to face him, undaunted, even when he towered over you like a titan loomed over mortal men.

He hesitated, his expression hidden with his helmet, but you saw the way his shoulders tightened under your scrutiny. His broad frame blotted out the moonlight. You mirrored him, clinging to a shred of self-preservation in the face of a very real threat. Hood wasn’t good. He wasn’t bad. He just was. He might have saved you this time, but that didn’t mean you would stay in his good graces.

A beat of silence passed between you two before he knelt beside you to pick up the last of the sodden pages. There was no saving them. With a heavy sigh, you set them aside.

“Fuck.”

He took the pages and scanned their contents, not even trying to play it coy. You swallowed your protests in favor of a displeased glare. No one said vigilantes were well-socialized. If they were, they wouldn’t be parading the streets in costume.

“Is this… homework?” His modulator grated on your ears, but he sounded genuinely curious.

You didn’t expect follow up questions. From the sharp breath that crackled through his modulator, he didn’t know either. Knowing that his question caught him off guard amused you, so you decided to humor him with an answer.

“It’s an essay for a scholarship,” you explained, “Gotham University has one of the best writing programs in the city. I know I can get accepted, but I can’t enroll unless I have a scholarship to pay for it.”

“That’s shit luck.” He sounded upset, angry even. You might have been too if you weren’t still processing the situation. “Does that mean you have to rewrite it?”

“Next year, I guess.” You stuffed the rest of the things in your bag, shouldered it, and headed toward your apartment. I didn’t expect him to follow you, much like you didn’t expect him to have questions. It shouldn’t have surprised you when he did, still clutching your ruined essay in his gloved hands. Even standing, he felt like an indominable presence.

“Next year?”

“The deadline is tomorrow morning, and I don’t have time to rewrite it.”

“Couldn’t you submit it online?”

“Can’t. Electrocutioner zapped the foundation office last week and online systems are down until further notice. They refused to extend the deadline, so we’re forced to submit by mail or in person.” You decided to write yours by hand to stand out from the other applicants, a decision that you were now kicking yourself for.

Hood scoffed. “That’s stupid.”

“That’s Gotham,” you deadpanned, “Our city can’t shut down every time there’s an incident between Batman and the villain of the month. This was my last-ditch effort to secure money before the start of the new semester. I’ve tried the usual avenues with little success, even Wayne Enterprises despite being fundamentally against him and the expectations set by his foundations.”

Most came with an unpaid internship within a branch of the company. The experience alone would launch most student’s careers, but unpaid work did more harm than good for someone like you. Besides, you had no interest in business or medical research. Honestly, you should have never applied in the first place, but desperation drove people to do stupid things.

“I’ll try again next you,” you finished with another disinterest shrug. You prayed it looked convincing. “The writing program isn’t going anywhere, and I don’t need it to make it in the industry.”

Your stomach lurched. That program, Gotham University, could open doors you could only dream of knocking on—especially when it came to making connections. This industry was about who you knew rather than what.

You stopped and Hood stopped with you. Hood didn’t need to join you in your pity party. Your apartment sat around the corner. The fact that he had followed you this far should have unsettled you, but you felt oddly empty as you turned to face him.

Your eyes locked, even with the helmet shielding his. You wished to see his expression. Or know what his face looked like underneath. Were his eyes blue or brown, his hair light or dark? You didn’t even know what his voice sounded like without the modulation. Did it matter? He saved you. He empathized with your situation. It was more than you ever expected.

“I can make it from here,” you assured him, “I live around the corner and if someone jumps me between now and then, well, I know you’ll hear me scream.” You laughed, trying to make light of a situation that weighed heavily on your chest.

“Thanks for saving me,” you added when he failed to respond.

He offered the papers and the weight on your chest increased tenfold. “Are you sure you don’t want them? You could copy the part you can still read.”

You shook your head. “I’m not going to sweat it.”

But you would cry over it, probably into a bag of chips or a pint of ice cream while Bridgerton played in the background, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Sometimes these things aren’t meant to be.”

Hood inclined his head as if he wanted to say something more. You waited, more curious than anything. Another beat passed before his hands fell back to his side. “Try to stay out of trouble. I won’t always be around to save you.”

But he was tonight and that was all that mattered. You were about to tell him as much, but he had already turned to walk away. You watched him go until the shadows swallowed him, and only then did you turn to go home.

[bright-side20]

A little Elriel scene 😁

Elain stood near the edge of the crowd, her gaze flicking toward the dais where the royal family sat. The King and Queen of Valahan, wearing their crystalline crowns, looked like cold statues on their high thrones. Beside them, the Crown Prince stood tall and proud, his piercing eyes sweeping over the room.

Azriel stood at her side, his wings slightly spread, the faint brush of them against her shoulders like a silent reassurance that everything would go as planned.

“To peace and prosperity, and to the Night Court’s alliance.”

A wave of polite applause followed, and the guests raised their glasses. A chill ran down Elain’s spine as a servant handed her a goblet.

Azriel hesitated beside her, his sharp gaze fixed on the drink. After a moment, he lifted his goblet and took a small sip, his face unreadable. Elain noticed his hand tighten slightly around the glass.

She raised her own goblet, but before it could touch her lips, Azriel’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist. “Don’t,” he said firmly, his voice low but urgent.

Elain blinked, her brow furrowing. “Is it…?”

“Not here,” Azriel cut her off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We need to leave the room. Now.”

Her heart skipped a beat as her gaze darted toward the dais. The Crown Prince’s eyes were on her. “They’ll see us,” Elain whispered, her voice tight with worry.

Azriel followed her gaze, his grip on her wrist tightening. One of the nobles stepped forward, bowing deeply before the royal family and launching into a speech. Elain seized the moment, gently tugging at Azriel’s arm. Together, they slipped toward the nearest exit, moving through the crowd.

The moment they were free of the hall, Azriel stumbled. His shoulder brushed against the wall.

“Azriel,” Elain whispered, stepping closer to him. Her voice filled with concern. “What’s happening?”

“The drink,” he muttered. “There was something in it. I didn’t want you to…” He shook his head, trying to clear it, but his steps faltered again.

Elain quickly wrapped an arm around his waist, steadying him. “We need to get you somewhere safe. Come on,” she urged softly.

By the time they reached her chambers, his weight leaned heavily against her, and his usually graceful movements were clumsy. She managed to guide him to the bed, her heart racing as she helped him sit down, half-laying him back against the headboard.

“Azriel, talk to me,” she said, brushing strands of hair from his face. “What do you think it was? Could the royal family...”

“It doesn’t matter,” he interrupted, his hazel eyes fluttering open to meet hers. “You’re safe..”

She shook her head. “Of course it matters! If they’re targeting you...us...we need to know.”

Elain glanced toward the door. “I’m going to find a healer. You need help..."

“No,” he said sharply. “We can’t risk it. If the wrong person finds out I’m unwell... We’re already on fragile ground with this treaty.”

Her stomach churned. “Azriel, you’re hurt. They poisoned you.”

“And we can’t let them see it worked,” he said firmly. His head tipped back against the Headboard, his chest heaving.

Elain felt her pulse quicken, fear spreading through her. If only she knew exactly what was in that drink, maybe she could cure him with one of the remedies Madja had taught her.

“Do you have any idea what it could’ve been?” she asked

Azriel shook his head, unable to speak.

She sat next to him, her hand reaching to touch his face. His skin burned under her fingers, a faint sheen of sweat covering his brow. His breathing was uneven and ragged, and his eyes were hazy. Whatever poison or substance was in that drink was dragging him under, and she could feel how wrong it was. The fear of something happening to him clawed at her chest.

“We need to get you to Velaris,” she said. “Can you winnow us?”

Azriel shook his head again, his hand gripping the edge of the bed as though he was fighting to stay conscious. “I… I can’t. Not like this,” he rasped, his voice low. “I don’t trust myself to get us there safely.”

His head lolled against the headboard, and his hand fumbled at his side. Elain watched, frozen, as he pulled Truth-Teller from its sheath and held it out to her.

“Take it,” he rasped, his hand trembling. “If… If something happens, you’ll need it.”

Her lips parted in shock. “I’m not leaving you,” she said firmly. “Don’t even think about asking me to.”

Azriel let out a weak, frustrated growl, his hand dropping the blade onto the bed. “I just sipped a little… nothing will happen to me. I just need to rest. Elain, you...”

“No.” Her tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. “I’m staying.”

His shadows curled protectively around her, as if agreeing with her decision. She glanced toward the door. “Azriel,” she said softly, brushing his damp hair back. “I need your shadows to watch the door, to make sure no one is coming.”

The wisps of darkness immediately darted toward the edges of the room. Elain let out a relieved breath and turned her focus back to Azriel’s flushed face. His temperature was climbing...she could feel the heat radiating from him even from inches away.

She stood quickly, hurrying toward the bathroom, fighting the burning in her throat. If only Feyre or Rhys could contact her, but they were too far, and she knew their daemati powers couldn’t reach this far. She grabbed a clean towel, soaked it in cold water, and wrung it out.

When she returned, Azriel was slumped against the headboard, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

“Azriel,” she said softly, placing the cool cloth on his forehead. He flinched at the touch but soon relaxed, a faint sigh slipping past his lips.

Her gaze shifted to his Illyrian leathers, dark and heavy against his overheating skin. She knew they had to come off. "Azriel," she said hesitantly, her cheeks warming. "I need to…" She gestured awkwardly toward his armor.

His eyes flickered open, and he gave a faint nod, too weak to speak. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the clasps on his chest. The intricate buckles and straps were tight, and she fumbled as she tried to undo them.

"The buttons… are at the back," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

She climbed onto the bed, helping him lean his weight on her. Her hands brushed over the smooth expanse of his back as she searched for the fastenings. Her fingers accidentally grazed the base of his wings, and he shuddered violently, his body jerking.

She froze, her hands going still. "I’m sorry," she whispered, her heart pounding. Cerridwen had once explained how Illyrian wings were extremely sensitive. But before she could pull away, his hand shot out, gripping her waist and pulling her closer. Her breath hitched as she found herself pressed against him.

"Don’t apologize. I should," he said hoarsely, his hazel eyes red and locked onto hers. Before she could respond, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her neck. His lips were soft, almost burning, and she bit her lip to stop a sound from escaping.

"I… I tried," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "Tried to stay away. But you… you make it impossible."

Her lips parted as she whispered, "Azriel, you’re feverish. You’re not yourself."

He let out a low, humorless laugh. "No, Elain. For once, I think I am." His fingers brushed lightly against the underside of her breasts, making her shudder.

Undressing him now was probably a bad idea, but she didn’t have any other choice. She had to do something to bring his temperature down. She reached for his back again, unfastening the armor and gently slipping it off until his chest was bare. And gods, his muscles were sharp and defined. She wondered how many centuries of training it had taken for him to have a body like that. The tattoos covering his chest and shoulders made him look even more powerful. She couldn’t stop staring, and she hated how her fingers itched with the urge to touch him.

Elain swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as she reached for the cool cloth again. Before she could press it to his skin, his hands found her waist. In one swift motion, he rolled, and she gasped as she ended up beneath him, his head resting heavily on her chest. His fingers brushed against her thigh, his touch light but enough to make her shiver. The weight of him was overwhelming, his wings spread wide like a fallen angel.

She tried to move, but the moment she shifted, he let out a low sound of protest, a quiet growl that made her heart race.

“Azriel,” she said, her voice shaky.

His head moved slightly, nuzzling closer to her, his breath warm against her breasts.

“Yes, love?” he murmured, his voice rough and low.

Her breath caught, her chest tightening at the way he said it, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. She reminded herself that he was hallucinating, whatever he had drunk was playing with his mind.

"Please," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She brought a hand to his hair, brushing it back gently. "You need to let me help you."

"But you are helping," he murmured, his lips brushing against the soft curve of her breasts, and she nearly whimpered. "I just need to feel you," he added, his hand slipping under her dress, dangerously close to the edge of her underwear.

"Don’t leave me," he continued. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to hers. His hazel eyes, usually so guarded, were wide and filled with something raw...fear, longing, hunger...it made her chest ache

“Elain…” he murmured. “You always disappear when I wake up. You’re always... a beautiful dream.”

She brought her hands to his face, cupping his jaw gently, her thumbs brushing over his high cheekbones. His skin was burning, a feverish warmth that made her worry deepen.

"I’m here, Azriel. I’m not going anywhere," she said as her fingers trailed along the sharp line of his jaw.

His eyes fluttered closed at her touch, a quiet sigh escaping him. She shifted slightly, moving her hand to his hair, threading her fingers through the soft, dark strands. Slowly, gently, she combed through his hair, her touch soothing him.

Her fingers continued their soft path, brushing over his hair, down to his jaw, and back again. She couldn’t stop herself from memorizing every detail...the sharp angles of his face, the curve of his lips... She couldn’t help but think how beautiful he was...the way everything about him seemed to draw her in.

He let out a soft hum, almost a contented sound, as his breathing evened out completely. His wings, which had been taut and tense, relaxed against the bed, draping around them.

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself imagine a life where this was real...a life where they were just a couple, safe and warm, in each other’s arms. But that wasn’t the truth. The truth was that poison was burning through Azriel’s body right now, and he might not even remember what he’d said to her. The truth was that she didn’t know how to help him, the royal family might have already noticed their absence, and she was supposed to give a speech by the end of the event. Everything could fall apart at any moment.

Tears blurred her vision, burning hot against her cheeks.

A hot liquid seeped onto her chest, and she had to clamp her hands over her mouth to stop herself from screaming when she saw blood trickling from Azriel’s nose and mouth.

Panic surged through her as she quickly moved from beneath him, turning him to face her. “Azriel,” she cried, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. “Stay with me, please.”

But he didn’t respond. His face was pale, his breathing shallow.

If anything happened to him, she swore she would destroy this kingdom. She would burn it to the ground.

A wave of power surged through her, making the Truth-Teller hum where it rested on the bed. She froze, her gaze snapping to the dagger. It buzzed with an energy that felt alive, calling to her as if it was trying to speak.

Her trembling fingers reached for the blade. The moment her hand closed around it, a strange sense of calm washed over her. She remembered how she had once commanded it to save her sister, and now, she closed her eyes, focusing on her power...the blade’s power.

“Undo what’s poisoning his blood,” she said, her voice firm despite her shaking hands.

A shadow flowed from the dagger, dark and cool, like smoke wrapping around her fingers. It glided over Azriel’s chest and sank into his skin, disappearing as quickly as it came. She held her breath, watching for any sign of change.

Azriel twitched, his brows furrowing, and his breathing hitched. His lips parted as a low groan escaped him, and she pressed a hand to his cheek. Relief flooded her when the heat began to fade from his skin, and the blood stopped.

His eyes blinked, hazy at first, but gradually they focused on her. For a moment, he said nothing, just looked at her as if trying to figure out if she was real. "Heaven" he murmured, his gaze shifting over her face as though she was an angel.

Before she could respond, an overwhelming urge to hold him swept through her, and she unconsciously leaned forward to hug him.

Azriel's hand gently rested on her back, and he whispered hoarsely, "You saved me."

But as the words left his lips, the shadows in the room stirred, shifting uneasily. They whispered urgently in his mind. He lifted his head, eyes narrowing as the shadows warned him.

"It's time," he said, his voice more forceful now. "You have to give your speech."

[narrans]

A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Fifteen | Candle Lit Christmas

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Chapter Fifteen | Candle Lit Christmas

First thing the next morning, one thing was absolutely certain – it was freezing. Ashlynn huddled under her blankets in every clothing layer she possessed and still she was insufferably cold.

Were her thoughts occupied with the dangers of her interaction with the three brothers last night?

No.

Was she thinking about how to keep herself safe and to avoid any unnecessary confrontations with the three humans she had decided to trust?

No.

Was she considering the possibility of returning?

No.

All she could think about was how cold it was.

What on earth is going on? It’s absolutely frigid! Did Soren turn off the heat? Is there something wrong with the heater? Is this some kind of human ploy to get me out of the walls? What time is it even?

Ashlynn dared to poke her head out from under her layered blankets, brow and eyes instantly stiff with an unforgivable chill, as she looked around her home. It was here that something caught her eye – her lights weren’t on. The little lights she’d tapped into and borrowed from the neighboring apartments were completely out.

That’s weird. The chances of this being a simple fix dwindled fast. What made it weird was that the power for the lights came from lots of different places. If there was a short or something along those lines, just one strand would be affected. Did this mean something happened to the power in all of these places?

It was with regret and reluctance that Ashlynn bundled up and hauled herself out of her bed, the imprint of warmth left behind in a perfect silhouette of her body. She shuffled over to the plugs and places she’d wired together just in case, but found nothing in the light of her hip lamp that indicated that the wires were bad or that something had burned out. Bulbs tested. Wires checked.

Ashlynn watched her breath form a steaming fog with every breath out, and every breath in felt like she little icicles were jabbing her lungs from the inside. She quickly retreated back to the warmth and safety of her bed, relieved her warm spot was waiting for her, and extinguished her lamp.

Just a few minutes longer, and then if nothing happens I’ll go check and see if the boys are here. Maybe Soren is doing something with the electricity. Then again, I haven’t heard them all morning. Hope everything’s okay…

~~~^*^*^~~~

And, for the boys, everything was more than okay. It was great!

First thing, early in the morning, Soren woke up his brothers and showed them the fresh layer of snow spread across the yards. Layers and layers of gray snow already scraped from the road was once again concealed by a duvet of white, frozen flakes. He usually let his brothers sleep, but sledding on Christmas Eve day was too good to pass up.

So, he picked out the warmest clothes they had and bundled them up into the car to go to his favorite secret sledding spot. It was a treasured place. Sometimes hard to get to, and rarely visited since everything happened, but it didn’t diminish the special meaning it had for Soren.

The trio set out into the snow, unaware that moments after they left that the power would go out for them and the rest of their neighborhood.

“Soren? Where are we going?” asked Dorian, interrupted momentarily by a yawn, as he peered out the window.

“Sledding. I told you that,” reminded Soren as he glanced back at his brother.

“I know, but… you turn left to go to the part; or we walk. You… see? You took a right,” pointed out Dorian. Rey’s eyes gleamed as he attempted to bounce and squirm. His efforts were severely thwarted from his layers of puffy winter coats and the seatbelt protecting him.

“Oh! OH! I know! I know! We’re going to The Hill, right?” grinned the youngest brother. Soren couldn’t hide his smile.

“Maybe.”

“Oh! I knew it!” cheered Rey.

“Wait. The Hill? Really?” Dorian chimed in eagerly.

The Hill, as Soren called it, was a place that he and his parents used to go to whenever it snowed because it had the best hills, hence the name. There was a park he and his parents used to enjoy when he was younger right next to a thick, wooded area. The park was an old-fashioned one, with rusted spring bound horses and metal slides. The swing set rocked back and forth due to years of abuse and the earth leveling beneath it.

It also had the best places to sled down. Old trails took you to several quiet, steep hills. It was here that Soren and his father, Aaron, had the all-time record for hills to jump. If you started at the top of one, you could crest over some of the smaller ones beside it, and Soren and his dad had managed to make it all the way to the end during one particularly icy snowfall.

That was before he got sick…

As if the brothers behind him could read his mind, Dorian asked, “Isn’t this the place your dad brought you to?”

Soren had to clear the tension in his throat before responding, “Yes, it is.” His eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror to see Rey and Dorian exchanging elated glances.

“Just like you’re dad took you!” Rey smiled. Soren swallowed hard and continued to nod rather than respond.

“But you’re not our dad,” stated Dorian in a matter-of-fact tone. It made Soren chuckle.

“No, I’m not. I’m something better – your pesky older brother,” he said as he glanced over his shoulder at his brothers. Rey started giggling before going off into his own side tangent.

“Soren? Soren? Do… wasn’t that so funny yesterday? When Ashlynn was like, ‘Isn’t Soren your dad?’ And! And…”

“That definitely was interesting,” admitted Soren. In a way, Ashlynn wasn’t wrong to guess Soren’s roll here in the family. He had taken on quite the heavy mantle after the accident with the boys’ father and their mother. It still made his blood boil, the way it all had to happen.

Brady should’ve never been behind the wheel. Soren’s grip tightened on the wheel. Serves him right. Drunken scumbag.

He was so focused on his loathing that Soren almost missed the turn. Quick jerk to the left with a little skidding that made the boys giggle and squeal and, all of a sudden, Soren felt like he was back in a memory. He followed the unplowed road through the arcing trees up one road and down the next before, just like before, he saw the all-too-familiar sight of the place he’d adored as a child.

“We’re here!” the boys cheered in tandem.

Yes… yes we are.

“Alright you two, unbuckle and let’s get going. We have some sledding to do.”

Soren hoisted the sleds onto his back and led the way around the park, over the creek, and then began the trudge up the series of small hills. He and his brothers paused frequently, mostly because of Rey wanting to eat icicles and draw smiley faces in the undisturbed winter around them, until they saw it.

The Hill.

It towered over them, a mass of white that made both boys pause and look up with their entire bodies since their bundled bodies couldn’t simply move their neck. The motion reminded Soren of the original Batman costume, but the reference would be lost on his brothers.

Maybe we’ll watch that if they don’t want to watch something else more Christmas themed tonight. Soren thought.

“Alright. Final push, and then we slide down,” huffed Soren.

“Soren? I’m tired. Could you carry me?” asked Rey. Soren looked over his shoulder to see his brother standing pitifully in snow almost to his knees with his lower lip puckered out. Whether Rey knew it or not, Soren could never say no when his brother made that face.

“Alright. Get on,” he relented as he knelt in the snow.

“Hey! Can I go too?” Dorian asked.

Figures. I knew this would happen. I did the same thing at their ages.

“Pile on!”

It took some finagling, but Soren managed to get both his brothers onto his back while dragging the sled behind. With both boys secure and Soren realizing this was going to be quite the challenge, the eldest forced his quaking knees to push him upright as he began the climb. The boys knew better than to flail and bounce. They knew Soren would make them walk if they weren’t going to behave themselves, so they remained motionless and fastened tight, clutching onto Soren’s shoulders for dear life.

Step after step, Soren ascended The Hill.

Each step made Soren feel stationary. No matter how much he pumped his legs, the top was nowhere to be found. He didn’t relent. Everything worth having was worth working for, and his brothers deserved this. Finally, out of breath and a bit achy, Soren crested over the top and partially as a joke and partially because his legs were screaming in protest, fell face first in the snow.

“Soren! Are you okay?” Rey squeaked.

“Did you get hurt?” asked Dorian immediately after. Soren rolled over and, in the blink of an eye, had grabbed his brothers and rolled them into the snow. The chorus of laughter erupted as the three were now covered in snow.

“Ugh, just crushed by you two. When did you decide to get so big?” groaned Soren as their laughter died down. The boys opened their mouths to protest, but paused as they saw the look in their brother’s eyes. It was unidentifiable for the youngsters, but it was unlike any way he’d looked at them before. Pride? Nostalgia? Realization?

Their mom had that look a few times…

As fast as the moment came, it went and soon Soren was on his feet and setting up their three person sled.

“Okay, Rey first, Dorian, and then me. Let’s go!” Soren’s commanding voice set the boys to action immediately. If only I could get them to do chores that easily, thought Soren sarcastically. Snow crunched under their feet as they assumed the correct order. The oldest remembered how his father did it, and now he was going to do the same. “Alright. Hang on tight and don’t lean, bounce, or let your feet drag. Ready? Set!” On “Go,” Soren pulled the sled back and ran with it, only jumping on at the last moment as it careened off of the edge.

The boys’ squeals were caught in the top of their throat as the frigid wind whipped past their faces. They held on tight, death gripping the edge of the sled by the improvised handles Soren made for them last Christmas. The weightlessness carried them down the hill and over the first two bumps before sliding to a stop on the third.

Almost! Thought Soren. Gotta get the record though. Not worth the trip without it.

He turned around and, using the handle, began dragging his brothers back up the series of hills. Thankfully, the boys didn’t make the next few climbs difficult, stomping through the snow beside Soren instead of getting a free ride off of his back. It wasn’t until the fifth try that, finally, the snow was flat enough for them to make a proper run of it.

“Ready? Set! GO!” Soren sprinted as he pushed the sled, his muscles aching in the cold, as he leapt on at the last moment. They soared over the first hill and the second, caught air on the third, and coasted through the last one all the way to the tree line before coming to a skidding stop right before the creek.

“We did it! We did it!” cheered Rey, bounding like a puppy in the snow with Dorian cheering right beside him.

Yeah… we did. See that mom? Dad? Keeping the tradition alive.

“Ready for another round?”

“Yeah!”

~~~^*^*^~~~

Hours passed in the freezing cold before, finally, the boys returned home. Everything felt numb, but neither boy could stop talking about what an awesome time they had. Now, a promise of hot chocolate and a warm bath lured them back to the car to make the drive home.

Soren had to admit that he could also use some time in a nice hot shower, but hot chocolate and getting the boys warm took precedent. They would pass out like played out puppies and nap the moment Soren left them alone for more than a minute, and it would be better if they were already PJ’d up and ready for a night in than trying to wake them later.

They rounded the final corner to their neighborhood and up to their place. Soren tapped the garage door and, to their surprise, nothing happened. Twice. Three times. Nothing. Soren put the car in park and stepped up to the keypad to press the frozen through buttons when he noticed the light failed to come on.

“Oh no,” he grumbled. This wasn’t good. He tried once more, just to be safe, and sadly received the same result.

The power was out.

How long has it been out? We’ve been gone for a while. Please tell me the pipes haven’t frozen. Looks like it’s improv time.

“Soren? Is everything okay?” Dorian had unbuckled himself and was leaning out of the car, concern etching its way into his thawing features.

“Maybe. I think the power’s out. Storm must’ve taken out the power lines and the generators,” replied Soren, who returned to the car and shut it off. “We’ll have to go in through the front. Come on.”

He guided the boys inside and, to keep them from tracking in snow, quickly undressed at the front door step so he was in nothing but his long pants and long sleeved shirt before picking up one boy and then the next, shoving them in the garage to rid themselves of their snow covered gear. The moment he stepped inside, Soren could’ve sworn he could see his breath. Evidently, the power had been out for a while, and that wasn’t good. The emergency flashlights flooded the room with small beacons of light, but that was all with the blinds closed and curtains drawn.

At least I remembered to keep the curtains sealed. It would be unbearable if I’d thrown open the blinds first thing.

He was prepared, as always, for emergencies, but it would add time and, sadly, the boys wouldn’t be getting a bath today unless the power came back on. Jammies on the boys and his own gear drying in the garage, Soren set to work.

“Soren? Why is it so cold in here?” asked Rey as he shivered and pulled his sleeves over his fingers.

“Well,” sighed Soren as he grabbed one of his own jackets and slid it onto his brother, instantly dwarfing the youngster, before pulling up the hood to cover his head. “When the power goes out, that means there’s no electricity. The heater runs off of electricity, so no power means no heat.” Soren pulled Dorian closer and slipped one of his jackets on him, zipping up the front all the way to Dorian’s chin.

“So… does that mean…” Soren knew where Rey was going with this.

“Yes. Operation Survival. You know where the flashlights are,” grinned Soren, biting back a shiver as he pulled a hoodie over his head.

“Yeah! Tent city! Campfire burner! Candles and fire! Let’s go!” Dorian cheered as he and Rey scampered off.

“Flashlights first!” Soren called. He rolled his eyes and stared at the kitchen sink, daring to reach forward and flicking the tap on.

Nothing.

Curses. Either the pipes are frozen or the backup generator is out too.

Soren crouched and opened the cabinet to see if he could find any signs of freezing pipes when he heard something on top of the counter directly behind him.

“S-s-soren?”

He glanced over his shoulder to see Ashlynn bundled in blankets to the point he could only make out part of her face.

“Ashlynn, hey,” he breathed.

“Wh-what’s g-going on?” Ashlynn’s teeth were chattering hard. “Is the p-power out?” A million things were going on in his mind to help get everything prepared for a potential power outage long haul, but pausing for a second to explain wouldn’t do any harm.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Soren grumbled. “Usually, there are generators and stuff to kick everything back on, but this snow storm must be hitting a lot of people all at once. So, we’re going into what myself and the boys affectionately call ‘Survival mode.’ We’ve also called it pioneer night, but operation survival motivates the boys.”

“Ah, I s-s-see,” muttered Ashlynn. “Explains the c-cold.”

“Oh… oh yeah, wow. So… gosh yeah, that would probably affect you more than any of us since you probably don’t have access to direct heat, huh.” Soren saw the small woman nod sheepishly. I couldn’t imagine not having access to electricity and modern tech. Basically every night is like pioneer night for someone like her. Soren shuddered to think of what it would be like to have to take care of him and his brothers if he were Ashlynn’s size with basically nothing to his name.

It made his heart ache, but then an idea hit him.

“Well, I don’t know what your plans are for the evening, but you’re welcome to join us. Dorian and Rey are going to be back here in a second and I’m going to set them on tent duty, which is basically a giant fort made of blankets so we can all be together and keep warm if the power doesn’t come back on. If you want to join them, I’m sure they’d love to have you,” suggested Soren. “Or not. Whatever you prefer. You might’ve just come down to figure out what was going on.”

“And… what are you doing?” asked Ashlynn.

“Me? Checking for leaks and breaks in the water pipes, but I don’t see any here and I can’t do much else except wait and see if there are any leaks,” replied Soren as he ducked back into the cabinet and, using his keen eyes, started seeking for any seam splits.

“Why can’t you do much else? Why wait?” asked Ashlynn, who knew the dangers of water leaking for more reasons than one. If there was a leak in the pipes, walls and floors were instantly torn up. She’d seen it happen to a friend’s family when they were growing up, and they had to move shortly after. The damage water could do was also dangerous. It could lead to mold and would ruin everything if not dealt with properly.

“Well, a lot of that stuff is either under the house where I can’t reach it right now or it’s in the walls,” explained Soren. It was like a bolt of lightning struck them both, giving the same idea at the same time. “Ashlynn…”

“Soren… er…” They accidentally started talking at the same time. They both chuckled as Soren gestured for Ashlynn to go first. “Well… if you need someone to check the walls, I could do that. It’s easy enough. I’ve already mapped out most of the pipes and stuff. It’s how I… well… er… let’s just say I know how to check for that kind of stuff.”

Soren’s smile was nearly from ear to ear.

“That would be great. Seriously, Ashlynn, thank you.” It felt like a boulder had been lifted off of Soren’s chest. With Ashlynn checking the walls, I can get everything else going. If she finds something, it’ll be a quick fix. If not, I’ll know it’s a generator. “Come back as soon as you’re done.”

“Sure,” Ashlynn replied. It was the first time she actually felt useful, like she was paying back a debt that wasn’t being asked for.

She’d almost made it to the walls when she heard Soren’s soft, “Oh.” She paused and looked back at him. “By the way, what kind of hot chocolate do you like? Have you… had it before?” Ashlynn had heard of this drink, but had never had a chance to borrow any. So, she shook her head. “Little of a few different ones then. Good to know. Thanks.”

Ashlynn clicked on her hip lamp and, like the shadow she was, slipped into the darkness in search of a leak.

Soren, in the meantime, gathered up a few pots and set them on the gas stove to start boiling snow for hand washing and other miscellaneous things. He had drinking water reserved in the closet and the garage. He retrieved the electric generators from the shelves and set to work making a big bowl of ramen for lunch and then soup for dinner.

When he told the boys Ashlynn would be joining them, they just about lost their minds.

“Twice? In two days!” They cheered as they set to work on the tent, saying, “Let’s make this one the best one ever so Ashlynn will be impressed. She’s probably never been in a fort before.”

Ashlynn determinedly began scouring the walls for every water pipe she could remember in the apartment. Up walls. Down corridors. She placed her hands on each frigid pipe and examined it up one side and down the other looking for bulges or poking out ice. She even made sure her area was secure before snagging a few things she would need if she was going to spend the evening with Soren and his brothers.

Brothers. Ridiculous. I should’ve seen it. They just… whatever. They look related, but not by much. Dorian and Rey must take after their actual father or Soren just really takes after his. Ashlynn crouched and flipped over some of the nearby pipes when she heard something.

*Hiss… Drip… Drip…. Drip…*

Everything stopped. She held her breath. Every little motion froze in place. Ashlynn listened as hard as she could, turning her head one way and then the other to tell where it was coming from. She picked up the pace, following the sound down one corridor and having to crawl on all fours under a support beam, but still finding nothing.

“Well, shoot,” she muttered, hands on her hips and reaching up to scratch the back of her neck. “Where are you? Sounds like it’s coming from… hm…”

She had an idea.

Ashlynn had a good sense of direction, and she knew this part of the house was near the outside of the house. If I’m right… Ashlynn slid down a line she’d secured when she first arrived in case of emergencies and, instantly, felt the bitter cold freezing her solid. It was the passage that led to the outside, and she was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea.

Just a peak. Just a pe-AK! Ashlynn was halfway down the line when, suddenly, her foot hit solid ice. The jolt made her lose her grip and, as she slid down the rest of the line, she saw the culprit.

The water hose on the outside had indeed burst, and the spray had coated her emergency line in a thin coating of ice. Ashlynn plummeted straight down into a frozen mud pit, water spraying over her and into her hair. The wind kicked up again, sending millions of tiny snowflakes rushing right past her. The frigid air nearly brought Ashlynn to her knees once she was upright again.

Shoot! This is bad. Curses! Of course this happens to me. Ashlynn thought as she wiped the mud on her pants. She thanked her lucky stars she had her spare line and didn’t have to spend any time knocking the ice off of her safety line. It was that one more second that she needed to get inside instead of sitting outside freezing to death.

Though it took a bit longer to get inside because of her mud slicked hands and pants, Ashlynn was finally back inside and certain the pipes were alright.

“Great. Now I just have to get back and be a muddy mess for the rest of the night,” mumbled Ashlynn as she made the long slog back to her bag and the electrical cover on the counter.

~~~^*^*^~~~

“What happened?!” Soren’s voice was saturated with concern as he watched Ashlynn march back onto the counter, mud and ice on her clothes and in her hair. “Are you okay? Did you find a leak? Gosh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s fine, Soren,” Ashlynn interrupted, feeling a bit flustered that Soren was fussing over her so much; not that she minded. In fact, she kind of liked it. She reached up and scratched the back of her neck, body still shivering from her exposure to the outside world. “Really. I just need to change and I’ll be good. On the positive side, at least we know it’s just a split hose outside and not something in the house.”

Soren sighed, right hand reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb, before glancing over at the lit stove where he had successfully melted several bowls of snow.

“Well, at the very least you can wash off that mud if you want. I’ve got some warm water here, and we’ll give you the bathroom to get changed and everything,” said Soren. The mention of warm water instantly made Ashlynn’s body tingle. She’d only ever had warm baths here, and she liked the experience. “Though technically, if you’re cold, it’s skin to skin that is recommended, but…”

Ashlynn didn’t hear the rest. Her ears instantly started ringing and her cheeks began burning hotter than her candle burning stove at the thought of skin to skin with Soren. Gosh! What’s wrong with me?!

“Ashlynn?”

The Borrower woman startled as she suddenly realized Soren’s hand was only a few inches from her. She looked down at his hand and then back up to his features, only now noticing the bowl of steaming water in his left hand.

“Is that… something you’d like?” he asked.

She swallowed hard and, realizing he was talking about the bath, nodded bashfully and stepped onto his fingers as she snagged her bag with her spare clothes in it. The heat radiating off of his palm was soothing, and she was tempted to see if she could just sit there and keep warm. The Borrower thought better of it and let Soren carry her to the bathroom, which was lit with candles.

“Um… there’s soap here and give a shout or come into the living room when you’re done. I’ll leave the door open a crack for you,” stated Soren as his hand glided down to the surface of the countertop to set her down.

“Th-thank you,” she mumbled as she disembarked and watched Soren go. Good grief! I can’t blank out and think about something as ridiculous as skin to skin with a human! What on earth is wrong with me?! Even if I took him up on that, he probably is treating me like he would a little sister. He treats his brothers with this same care. Good grief! What am I even thinking?

Ashlynn stripped and slid into the warm water, dunking herself in the hopes that warm water would cool her head.

~~~^*^*^~~~

Twenty or so minutes later, Ashlynn was squeaky clean with fresh clothes and clean ones drying on the edge of the sink. After getting clean, she scrubbed her clothes free of mud and set them out so she’d have something to get into later if she had another wardrobe malfunction.

Then, she wandered into the living room to see what exactly this “fort” was supposed to look like; and, in all actuality, it looked like a Borrower fort. The blankets were ramshackle and pinned in every which way between the two couches, which were now facing one another instead of being perpendicular. Other blankets and something that looked like foam were on the ground in between the two couches. There were also miscellaneous games and padded boxes that Ashlynn didn’t recognize, but one thing she did know for certain.

Heat was coming from somewhere. Based on the mild glow and the cord going from it to one of those padded boxes, Ashlynn guessed it was the reason there was any semblance of warmth anywhere here.

“Ashlynn!” Dorian’s face peered out from under one of the blankets on the couch as he gave a little wave. “Do you like it? It’s not done, but it will be. Want a grand tour?” Ashlynn spotted Soren not too far away unrolling some kind of plastic thing, so she elected to nod.

Dorian slipped out from the blankets and was at her side in a few simple steps, something Ashlynn would’ve had to short distance sprint to cross in the same amount of time.

“Okay, here you have the grand foyer. This is where we’ll have food and play some games and where the heater is pointed. That’s that thing over there,” Dorian explained.

“Heater? I thought…” Ashlynn’s confusion was evident and Rey, who was carrying in more blankets from Soren’s room, dropped everything to answer.

“Yeah! It needs electricity, but Soren has that covered. This thing here. It’s called a generator. It is like a big battery that Soren keeps charged in case we lose power. It also plays music and can make emergency Morse code signals if we’re in danger.” Rey was beaming with pride at his concise answer, and it earned him a scrutinized look from his brother.

“I was gonna explain that,” complained Dorian. “Any-who! That one there is my couch, so that’s where I’ll sleep. And that one there is Rey’s couch. That’s where he’ll sleep. He’ll probably also lose some of his toys in there because he always loses his toys in the couch.”

“I do not! Not always,” Rey claimed indignantly. “I can’t help it if I like working on my inventions before bed and… well… sometimes I fall asleep and sometimes things fall out of my hands, but that’s part of being an inventor, which… OH! It’s Christmas Eve! We can give you your thing!”

Rey scampered off while Dorian continued to talk about the entrance and how it’s important to have blankets in a particular order because, otherwise, you’ll still be cold even under a mountain of blankets. To Ashlynn’s surprise, she actually found this useful.

By the time Rey returned, Soren had lunch in bowls for all of them, even Ashlynn, as well as a cup of hot chocolate for each of them. It was the first time Ashlynn ever had anything like it. It was warm and sweet and made her insides toasty like warm soup. And then adding marshmallows? Something else she’d never tried?

A Borrower could die happy if this was their last meal.

They finished lunch and played a few games, which Dorian and Rey barely made it through because they were exhausted from sledding, and then decided to lay down while Soren cleaned up. It was admirable, seeing the way Soren diligently tended to his brothers, and Ashlynn couldn’t stop herself from staring as Soren came back and practically collapsed onto something they called an “air mattress.”

But it’s not made of air… just filled with it… whatever.

It was when they woke up that the real, as Rey called them, “reindeer games” actually started. They took turns having Ashlynn on their team as they played things like “Cadoo,” more Pictionary, Jenga which Ashlynn was especially good at since she could climb and maneuver the pieces so well, and a few others Ashlynn hadn’t heard of.

It was only after dinner, yet another meal Ashlynn found herself groaning over, that they celebrated Christmas Eve. Soren did something called praying, which Ashlynn had seen some other humans do, before he retrieved several boxes from under the tree, each wrapped in green or red wrapping paper. He handed three each to the boys and, to Ashlynn’s surprise, one to her.

“Sorry I don’t have the same to give like I do the boys,” apologized Soren. “It’s what I could come up with in time.” It was a beautifully wrapped blue package that was about as tall and as wide as herself. She worried it would be too big to bring back to her own home, but banished those thoughts as she poked a hole in the paper and tore away the sides.

It was a massive, fuzzy blanket with an elegant “A” stitched into the side which was about the size of her hand. One side was a blue checkered flannel and the other was a cloud like fluffy material that was softer than anything Ashlynn had ever touched before in her life.

“Y-you… made this? For me?” she asked, craning her neck to look up into Soren’s golden hazel eyes. The illumination of the flashlights and candles only accentuated the flecks of green in them.

“Yeah,” Soren muttered as he reached up and nervously scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry it’s not much. But…”

“I love it. I… I just…”

“Wait! What about ours!” Rey interrupted as he quickly snagged a flashlight and darted into the darkness of his bedroom.

“Mine too!” Dorian called as he raced after his brother.

Soren chuckled, completely unaware that they’d managed to pull something together, when he heard a little sniff by his knee. He honed in his attention onto Ashlynn, who was clutching the blanket to her chest and shivering slightly.

“Hey… Ashlynn. Are you okay? Did we… do something wrong?” asked Soren. Ashlynn shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and along her sleeve. Her voice barely carried through the air, and Soren had to leave over to hear Ashlynn’s mumblings.

“I just… I haven’t don’t anything to deserve this. You’re all just being… being so kind. It’s something I would never have thought a human would do for a B…” Ashlynn stopped herself short before continuing, not finishing the word she had in mind. “You know? You hear these stories about others getting captured or killed. It just makes you so afraid, and then someone like you comes along… all three of you… it’s just…”

“It’s a lot?” Soren ventured a guess after Ashlynn was silent for a minute. When she nodded, he continued. “Yeah, I can understand that. And, please, if this is too much all at once you can just tell us. It’s okay.”

“See? Stuff like that. You’re all just so understanding. I just… I wish there were more humans out there like you. I’d even take more like you for my kind if I’m being honest.” Soren felt a rush of flattery making the tips of his ears burn. It was nice to know his efforts were worth it and that she wasn’t feeling hostile or as secretive anymore.

“Well, as long as you’re comfortable, you’re always welcome. It’s quick, but it definitely feels like you’ve joined the crew, if that’s what you want,” offered Soren. Ashlynn, emotions running wild like a rampant tornado in a jar, found herself nodding. It had been so long since she’d been a part of something – part of a family – and having it happen so quickly only affirmed in her mind that it was meant to be.

“We’re back! Here, Ashlynn! Open mine first.”

“No, me!”

Dorian and Rey both presented their gifts, which were, at the very least, good efforts that showcased the boys’ charm. Dorian had made something that looked like a coat rack out of some pencils and rubber bands. He also claimed it could function as a makeshift tent as he draped a blanket over the edges.

Rey, on the other hand, had managed to create a type of “quick descending” device using a skillcraft lanyard zip and some extra fishing hooks. He was also working on a quick ascension device, but he was having trouble getting it to not lock up.

“I… I don’t know what to say.” It was true. Ashlynn felt at a loss for words to show her gratitude, but an idea came to mind that she knew she had to act on. She stood and, to each of the boys, she went over and hugged their fingers, seeing that was the only part of them she could actually get her hands around. Despite her body shaking with excitement and so many other emotions, she managed to hug and thank each of the brothers.

Soren’s gifts to the boys included one toy they’d both been asking for separately, which was a Lego set of their choosing, something that interested them independently, music box mixing for Dorian and an electronics kit for Rey, and something they could do together, which was two new card games. In exchange, Dorian gave Soren a tool kit with medical and practical supplies, which Soren knew he was getting since he purchased it, and Rey gifted him some homemade flashlight gloves and matching head mount for his flashlights.

So… this is Christmas. I like it, Ashlynn thought as she watched the brothers hug. They crawled into their prospective beds not too long after and, using her new “tent,” Ashlynn found herself turning in for bed too. Both Dorian and Rey were breathing softly in their makeshift beds under a warmed tent, obviously knocked out from the events of the day. Ashlynn wasn’t far behind. Her eyes were just beginning to unfocus when she heard Soren’s signature cough.

“Hey, Ashlynn? You awake?” asked Soren.

“Mm-hmm, yeah,” she replied, sleep saturating her voice. How much time had passed since the boys had fallen asleep? Was Ashlynn asleep? Or that odd twilight between awake and not?

“Thanks for spending Christmas with us, and thanks for checking out the house. You really saved a lot of time and eased my mind at least, and I know the boys would say they had a great time with you tonight. So, thanks.”

Soren’s voice was growing fainter with each passing word until he completely drifted off to sleep. Ashlynn wasn’t far behind. Sleep played at the edges of her vision, eyelids lulling like shades that wouldn’t pull down. Up. Down. Further down. Up again. Closed. Up.

Sleep beckoned her with open arms as she nestled deeper into the cocoon she’d made from the blanket Soren gifted to her. Weightless. Effortless.

It was everything she’d always wanted – to be part of a fam-…

*WHAM*

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue | Coming Soon

Previous

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story

[rye-kin]

I have compiled so much in my mind the past month and with nowhere to put it down I’m now biting my nails that I’ll forget something! ARSGHSGSG

But!!! I’ve been thinking a lot lately abt how lonely Jekyll and hyde is (again). It goes w out saying really, but Jekyll, a (likely overweight) middle aged man who lives through the face of another man, hyde, who wouldn’t care or even be affected by the loneliness he feels.

I’ve spoken on this before, but through out the story (esp in ch 3 and 10) Jekyll makes it clear that he genuinely considered just abandoning everything and everyone (minus his money) to just be hyde in peace. Saying sht like “when I am no longer here” but implying that hyde would still be. Even his whole line in ch 10 where “the bargain may seem uneven- hyde wouldn’t be aware of all he had lost”…like gen contemplating. (Also, I mention Jekyll’s age and most likely body type bc it makes him more prominent and noticeable. He’s tall, and handsome too, and while you could say Hyde’s uncanny looks make him more noticeable he isn’t really regarded as such…the maid who literally KNEW him didn’t notice him at first in ch 4. He also doesn’t stand out or make an effort to w his plain clothing and private demeanor.)

Where hyde is quick and energetic, Jekyll is lethargic or sedentary…w him he’s always sleeping or sitting by the fire. Yes he does go on a walk at some point, but he’s mostly described to be in comfort and warmth w Hyde his whereabouts being a mystery, when he is mentioned he’s on the street…Hyde’s discretion for the most part makes me think he didn’t want to be noticed, and certainly not by anybody Jekyll knew. Like if he stayed as hyde foeva he would still do evil things and keep a low profile. It’s not reckless, but calculated and it’s only his impatience and probably how his brain works in that body that causes any of his outbursts. ig what I mean to say is I lowk wonder sometimes where the story could have gone if he chose hyde over Jekyll, and why he stayed w jekyll for so long in the first place. If he knew eventually he was too unstable in that shape to NOT kill someboday. Or yk…his love for utterson…

[alkelkha]

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐓. chapter four

relationship — jinx/powder x fem!blk coded reader

contents&warnings! : wc: 4.0k | post season 2 | lower-case indented | angst | heart to heart | just kiss already 🗣️ | non-sexual intimacy | fluff | mentions of them sharing the same bed | mentions of isha | these losers can't stay serious | yes reader has plot and yes i'm going through with it | not beta read | yes i am making this up along i go | author's note: i'm finally back after a month... don't come after me though! i'm literally in the middle of moving to a whole different state (not my choice).

❛❛ APOLOGIZE WITH FIREWORKS ❜❜

a careless toss of an envelope with this week’s paycheck slid off the desk. your eyes followed the movement. “you’re slacking, [name].” 

you’ve been slacking for the past two weeks. that’s how long it’s been since you and blue fought. you thought that she would come around and the two of you would hang out again like nothing happened, but of course, it didn’t. you were given straight radio silence, you even tried visiting her at her workshop and home. nothing.

she was your best friend and you hurt her to the point she’s shut herself in. was she even in there? was she ignoring you? did she run off? did she hate you now? did you just ruin everything? you couldn’t tell, it was like she locked herself in. this was killing you. 

every since she left it was like all the good things she brought with her did too. the endless laughter between the two of you, the satuation of the world. because of her you finally felt safe, your loan sharks finally stopped bothering you.

sometimes you think you see her (which you don’t). anything blue made you think of her, clouds too. you can’t bring yourself to eat the blue raspberry candy. 

the truth was that she was your good luck charm.

“do you want to lose this job?” big don’s voice rang in the office, snapping you back to reality. lose this job? this was the only job that could help pay off your debt that didn’t involve selling yourself, beating others half to death, and stealing. 

“i’ve been kind to you. i gave you this pussy job so you could pay me back with my own money.” he leans forward resting his clasped-together hands on the desk.

“but i see something,” the tall man raises from his seat. your breath got caught up in your throat and your heart quickened its pace. “…someone has made you sloppy. has taken your attention off of what is really important.” you knew what he meant and you couldn’t deny it. 

you have gotten sloppy with your work, clocking out a little bit early, and coming to work late more often— that was you when you and jinx started hanging out, but since jinx and you have gotten into that fight all of it got worse. “that new girl…” your eyes shot from the ground and straight to big don. the way he referred to her made your stomach turn. was he going to send his goons after her too.

“don’t—“ without thinking you stepped forward, you were about to walk up and slap him. good thing your mind caught up with you. yay, no bullet between your eyes!

“don’t what?” big don shot back at you, he stopped pacing and walked over to you. “run her out of flosnum? tie up the new girl in town? have some of my men give her a good beating? or maybe i’ll make you do that…” gulping at his implication you step back. you knew big don was sick, but surely not that sick?

right?

towering over you, two heads taller his dull dark eyes look down at you, his eyes make you feel so insignificant. you were nothing but a mere worker bee, “[insert sibling] may have escaped off to bilgewater. ixtal? ionia? who gives a fuck anymore. what matters is that one of you is here. one thing stands. your father’s debt.”

“get your act together or you’re on your own.” he then grips your hair, and with a harsh tug he pulls you closer to him. he smelt of cigarettes and mangos, “once you’re on your own i won’t care how and what you do to pay off the debt. sell your body for all i care.”

you left his office and went back to working at the bar. overtime. work for two weeks with no pay as punishment, which was mercy considering you've been waterboarded other times.

though you were starting to consider being waterboarded instead.

how long has it been? she can’t remember, there was no point in counting hours or days when she was in this state. 

her chipped painted nails scratched off her cuticles to the point they bleed. curled up in the middle of her room stuck in an unforgiving daze. a haze that consumed her mind and filled it with thoughts that pricked her brain as if they were needles.

she fucked up. again. and she doesn’t have the guts to try and fix it.

not that there was anything to fix, you were done with her. you hated her. you saw her as insane as soon as you saw her.

she was an idiot to show you that side of her. what made her think that this would be any different? danger or not, flosnum was not immune to her effect. 

her blue chopped hair now grown inches past her ears but not long enough to touch her shoulders, her bangs terribly long, and the purple dye worn out. the bonsai tree on her bedroom windowsill half dead. the irrigating bear under her bed where its voice is too far to catch. 

jinx. that’s who she was. she couldn’t fight it anymore. running from it has been deemed impossible even when she’s a sea away from piltover and zaun. 

metal and wood clanking against each other.

she could hear it, the small huffs, exhales, and sniffles. the light-weight pitter-patter danced around her.

isha.

jinx was greatness to isha. a haven. a symbol. someone worth protecting.

jinx could feel the vibrations from the floor bouncing back to her curled-up position. she had her knees to her chest and hid her face.

she couldn’t bring herself to look up. she was scared that if she looked up she would see her. if she did, she wouldn’t know what to do.

all those times she told off sevika that jinx was dead, isha was the one that kept the image of her alive. not a symbol of destruction— no longer just a loose cannon but a hero. 

powder was the one that died.

she thought that maybe if she could start over, it would all be from the beginning.

no jinx. just powder. the more she stayed on this tropical island she was reminded that she couldn’t be powder. 

to be honest, jinx liked isha’s version of jinx. the version that isha would play games, watch battles fight each other, fall asleep to her overly-dramatized exploits, graffiti on walls, and stargaze with. 

the careless dancing footsteps morphed into cautious ones and the steps were slightly heavier. 

step. step. step.

these footsteps didn’t seem as if they were sneaking up on prey, still, jinx refused to raise her head up from her knees, her eyes stayed shut. 

just ignore it.

she repeated those words, a mantra that got her through a handful of her episodes. unexpectantly, light fingertips grazed her shoulder, unsure if they could go further in the contact. 

hallucinations couldn’t touch her.

a low gentle voice “blue.” jinx felt all of her defenses fall. how pathetic that’s all it took.

you crouched down behind her. jinx’s back faced you, wearing only a pink tank top and wool shorts that showed off the blue clouds on the right side of her body.

the only reason you were able to get in was because you found a foolishly placed spare key sticking out from under a ceramic pot with a wilting flower.

you were tired of waiting.

“i’m sorry.” trying to shove down the heat rising to your face, you swallow. there was nothing more you hated than apologizing, which was ironic since you did it quite often. normally when you did it, it was out of fear or common courtesy.

sincerely apologizing on the other hand? the thought of you being the person in the wrong felt like a punch in the gut, but none of that mattered. 

the only thing you wanted right now was your friend back. “i’m so sorry. that day at the beach when i sighed it wasn’t towards you.” jinx was still. “that day was perfect and i ruined it. i made you feel that i didn’t enjoy it. i did! it’s just—“ you sucked in a breath before explaining.

“…i have a hard time living in the moment, i’m always thinking about my next shift. that i have my shift in this many hours, i’ll have to deal with rowdy customers in less than a day after, i have to pay off my debt.” she didn’t answer, it felt like you were talking to a brick wall.

“ever since you came into my life you have been what i look forward to.”

silence is all she gives you. not even a hum of acknowledgment. “blu—“ you couldn’t finish the nickname because of how shocked you were to see jinx finally turn her head towards you. you can only see her side profile due to the position the two of you are holding. 

the saturation of her vibrant red-violet eyes is now exhausted and dull. an alarm rang in your head. scrabbling from your knees you made it to in front of her to get the whole view of her. you needed to see all of her.

jinx’s closed-off position, her days-old makeup, unkempt hair, and lightweight. her head a bit more raised so she could look at you better as your eyes roamed around her body. 

her eyes.

her eyes were so doe and dull, the manic that she usually held in her eyes was nowhere to be found. this was the most vulnerable you’ve seen her yet there were still so many walls. 

she looked horrible.

you did this.

“[name]…”

her hoarse voice made your heart ache. gulping, pushing down the guilt. you slowly and carefully take her hands into yours. “let’s get you cleaned up, blue.”

the first thing you did was take off her makeup with a wet piece of cloth. you had no idea how long she had been like this, it looks like she had that same face of makeup for almost a week, probably more.

her cheeks were tear-stricken with dried-up mascara and eyeliner. her purple eyeshadow was worn out along with her smudged lipstick.

you washed her hair in the sink. she sat on a chair, her head leaned back as the faucet ran through her blue locks. your hands gently messaging her scalp, and then detangled everything with a brush.

the two of you didn’t talk at all. sitting on a stool your wrist moved in circular motions, washing her back.

she felt herself slowly come back to reality. the way you were being so careful with her as if she was worth being gentle to. were you doing all of this just to torment her?

surely you weren’t faking the affection in your touch? you wouldn’t do such a thing. you couldn’t. 

she felt her eyes burning up.

she felt the rough texture of the cloth exfoliating her skin, your hand carefully leading its way to her tattooed arm. your movements slow not wanting to have her pull away from your touch.

jinx lets out a ragged breath, louder than the scrubbing of her skin and water droplets. that was the first breath she let out since you came to her. your movement paused and went even slower. gentler. 

that’s when she bursts into tears. 

you froze up a bit hearing her choked sobs, “oh hon…” jinx’s shoulder shook as she leaned forward, away from you. her sobs only got louder and louder. saliva collected in her mouth and her face turned a pinkish hue.

putting aside the cloth you took her shoulders and pulled her back towards you, you wrapped your arms around her neck, and your head was right next to hers. “tell me what’s wrong.” you whispered in her ear, you didn’t bother hiding the tremor in your voice.

“please, talk to me. did i make you upset again?” you plead for her to talk to you.

“i’m sorry.” her sobs so broken that her voice cracks as she apologizes. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” she just shakes her head repeating herself over and over again.

“shh.” you say rocking the both of you side to side in an attempt to lull her sobs. “it’s okay, there’s nothing you need to apologize for. we both messed up.”

“i’m such a child, i ruined everything!” she hiccups, her sobs only worsened. she leans on you like a child seeking comfort.

“stop that. you ruined nothing, okay?” you tried to keep your voice firm.

“i made something out of nothing again and i pushed you away and now you hate me—”

you cut her off, “if i hated you would i be here right now?” 

“you will once i mess up again.”

sighing, you pinch her cheek. “it was a silly little fight, we got through it.”

jinx winces at the pinch but she doesn’t pull away instead, her cries lessen and her face scrunches up a bit. “what if we get into another fight?”

not letting go of her cheek you kept speaking, “we’ll get through it. even when i get irritated or mad with you, i’ll always come back to you.” she turns her head and you pull away to give her some space to move.

her eyes were bloodshot, her pink irises sparkled as if she was begging you to confirm your words. “you’re my best friend, things like this will always pass over, i promise.” 

jinx’s sobs were no more and what was left was her small sniffles as you got back to bathing her.

getting back together with you made jinx realize some things.

number one: you would never ever ever ever leave her no matter what! 

this meant she could do anything without you leaving her. like sleeping together in the same bed and kicking you off.

number two: the two of you were practically made for each other!

she has been clinging onto every second of the day and you welcomed it with open arms. (well other than the times she’s stalking you, but you don’t need to know that!) has she gotten more childish with you? maybe.

it was your day off so per usual you were with her, instead of rotting together at her workshop the two of you went out for ice cream and window shopped. the two of you walked side by side in the blazing heat, jinx’s arm hooked on yours. 

usually, she would complain and complain in this weather and end up with sunburns which you had to tend to. these days she wouldn’t, it was like she grew up with flosnum. she wore a mismatched bikini top and stockings, low rise shorts black and pink shorts, and black boots with pink laces. “new style?” you raised a brow.

“just matching the weather.” jinx licks the dripping cotton candy ice cream from her cone. the undercity wasn’t hot like flosnum. it was humid at best but mostly cold. hell, she felt the warmth of sun on her skin more on her first week here than she did her whole life in zaun.

going on your route you spot a jewelry vendor, something catches your eye. mindlessly pulling away from her to go check it out jinx furrows her brows, she follows behind you. your eyes were on the turtle trinket. the jewels on it sparkled like no other.

stupid.

jinx’s finger hooks on the loop of your bottoms and pulls you closer to her side. she bends over a bit to get a better look at the stupid trinket. “oh come on, toots, you don’t need this. you already have that ugly turtle pendant.”

you smack the back of her head and she whines. “my necklace is not stupid!” you defend the bronze hanging around your neck. “besides, i wasn’t going to buy it….” your eyes trail to the price tag, the sight causes you to frown. “way too expensive anyway.” you turn on your heels and walk away from the vendor. 

she watches you walk away and back to the turtle trinket. it was ugly. tacky too. you wouldn’t look good in it.

jinx shrugs and catches up with you, she loops her arm with yours licking her ice cream once again with a stolen trinket in her pocket.

number three: she missed chaos.

because of that, she’s going to blow up at tonight’s festival. she’s been working on it the day after you bathed her, tucked her into bed, and fell asleep in bed with her. which was six days ago.

don’t worry. don’t worry. she’s not going to kill anyone. she was done with that, instead, these bombs were going to make a teenie tiny little mess.

today’s festival was in honor of the day flosnum successfully defended itself against bilgewater, many lives were lost due to the battle. which was an incredible feat now that jinx thinks about it.

anyways, that doesn’t matter! what matters is that she wants to ruin it. 

it’s the most jinx thing she can do.

somehow the paradise was infinitely more vibrant under the dark sky. maybe it was the twinkling stars, the glowing plants, and the fairy lights. everyone gathered in the streets, adorned in tropical garlands. the two of you held a stick, the tip burned bright, sparkling. 

normally, jinx’s mind would be on how gorgeous your smile was, but today she was too excited to even think properly. she was too happy to fuck the celebration up. she had already planted the bombs. 

the air was filled with a sweet and fruity scent of exotic flowers. your sweet laughter echoed in her mind finally snapping her out of it. “what’s got you so happy, blue?” she asked, pointing out her dumb smile.

jinx dropped the stick, “follow me.” she grabbed onto you forcing you to do the same and follow behind her. 

there was so much of everything. people, noise, lights, smells. you canvas through the streets and she takes you onto her workshop’s rooftop. though her workshop was placed in a shady alleyway, the view she had up top was breathtaking.

her rooftop was decorated with random cut-up fabrics, unfinished projects (aka junk but she won’t let you call it that), and colorful lanterns. the stars painted the night sky, the jinx sat on the rooftop ledge. being the more cautious one you tried not to, but she forced you anyway.

“we’re best friends, right?” jinx slowly turns her head to you, your eyes are on the ground, watching the people below. 

“i sure hope so,” you snort. realizing that it wasn’t the right time to joke you backtracked, “of course we are, the best of friends.” you didn’t look back but that didn’t make your response any less sincere.

her red-violet eyes trace your side profile. you were pretty like this, with the colors of the lanterns illuminating off of you. the color blue graced your brown skin and the coils of your hair. it was almost as beautiful as when the sunlight would kiss your skin.

jinx wasn’t sure when it started. “it” being when she became so attentive to you. maybe, it was the day she first saw you behind the counter of her now workshop. maybe, it was the day she crashlanded and you saved her.

the topic of the day she crashlanded was never brought up between the two of you. jinx wasn’t sure if you were aware that she knew.

jinx should’ve forgotten about you that day, her vision was hazy and smoke filled her lungs— her mind shouldn’t even have registered the details of you. but she did.

the key detail she remembered?

it was that stupid bronze necklace.

the ugly piece of metal that is still hanging around your neck. it looks as if it was handmade. well maintained yet specks of chipped-off green paint on the turtle’s shell.

“good,” jinx smiles at your answer. her hand reaches into her pocket and your eyes follow, her fist closed around not letting you know what it is just yet. “because i wanted to give you something.”

your eyes finally lock with hers. “i’m not good with words. i’m not good with my actions either.” her vibrant eyes shift away from yours, but she forces herself to keep eye contact with yours. “i fuck shit up. always. as soon as something good comes in my life it’s taken away, by my hand or something else.”

jinx couldn't find the right words, she didn't even know where she was going with this. “i ruin everything,” she laughed bitterly, her eyes searched yours to see if you were annoyed by your senseless rambling, but you didn’t. you listened, waiting for the next words to come out of her mouth.

“i’m jinxed. it’s in my name.”

jinx looks down at her hand, her fist is holding onto the mystery item tightly. then her fingers hesitantly open up her fist, revealing what’s in the palm of your hand. you look down. this feeling in your stomach, it flips and flutters. “blue, is this—“

“jinx,” she didn’t let you get a sentence in. “that’s my name.”

jinx...so that was blue's name. oddly enough, it fit her perfectly. she didn't look like a sasha, cassie, hannah, or kate. for someone as cool as her she should have an equally cool name.

“that’s so cool!” your eyes twinkle, filled with excitement, completely ignorant to the significance of this moment.

when the words left your mouth jinx left hundreds of degrees hotter. a warmth blazed through her body. no one has ever had this type of reaction to her name.

“so, you’ve been cool you’re whole life, huh?” you scrunch up your face in mock jealousy. “cool hair. cool talents. cool personality. cool name. you’re just a package, aren’t you, jinx?”

why did she like her name coming from your lips so much?

trying to hide her flustered state she puts on a cocky front, “enough of how cool you think i am. are you going to take my gift or not?” she dangles the trinket in front of your face. “you stole it.” you blink at her unamused. still you took it from her hand. “says who? you think i can’t afford something like this?” she tilts her head, raising a brow. 

“then what’s this?” you point to the tag. 

she looks at it and grumbles. after pulling it off she then put on a faux innocent smile. “what’s what?” seeing how your unamused expression didn’t waver she sighed in defeat. “i just wanted to do something for you, you deserve tiny luxuries like this. maybe it could bring you some luck too. a lucky charm.”

her words managed to make you loosen up. your face softens. “thanks, hon, but i already have a lucky charm.”

jinx’s squints her eyes at you, “wait, you do?”

"i'm talking about you, jinx."

jinx, a lucky charm? how ironic. se had always been the cause of trouble, never the solution. when she did try to find one it only made everything worse. but here the two of you are. you hailed her as your lucky charm. a good omen.

she lets out a bark of laughter, she laughs with her full chest. all of this was too surreal it was making her head spin. 

POW POW POW

with distant bangs a cloud of red, then purple, then green, then blue. the town square exploded with a flurry of colorful dust. the dust danced in the sky and fell back down onto the cobbled ground as if it were snowfall.

oh right. jinx forgot about those.

the two of you whip your heads to the noise to see the mayhem going on. 

their faces being painted with the colorful dye. the locals dance and twirl along with the ongoing blasts of the bright vibrant powder into the air. children rushed trying to catch the falling powder, some even making angles on the ground.

your eyes snap wide with amazement at the view, “oh my gods!” no way in hell were you going to miss out on something like this. you carefully get off the rooftop ledge and pull jinx with you. 

“get your ass up, let’s join the fun!”

screams, panicked voices, and people trying to take cover, that’s what jinx expected. not the sound of flosnum residents’ laughter and cheers. her plans to cause chaos failed.

she really was a jinx.

TAGLIST: @millie2point0 @powderbomb-jinxed @velvetinkbym

[gs29]

The Secret Between Us

Squid Game Master list

*This is the first story I've ever written, I hope you like it*

The Squid Game arena feels more suffocating with every passing day. The noise, the terror, the endless rounds of violence—it’s all the same. You’ve seen it, done it, and in the end, it doesn’t matter. You were hired to be a faceless enforcer, a guard whose job is to keep the players in line and watch the chaos unfold. You follow orders, never question the system, and never, under any circumstances, show weakness.

Except now, there’s something inside you that demands your attention, a weight pressing against your chest—a life growing in your womb. And it’s his life.

Hanjo’s.

You never meant for this to happen. You never meant to get close to anyone, especially not him. But, life has a way of complicating things, doesn’t it?

Hanjo had always been silent, a professional in every sense of the word. Tall, broad-shouldered, and unnervingly efficient in his role as a guard. He doesn’t speak unless necessary, his voice as cold as the mask that covers his face. You’d never given much thought to him beyond your work, your duties. But then, over time, something changed. A moment, here or there, when he’d linger a second too long when your eyes would meet across a crowded hallway. A quiet, fleeting exchange during the long hours of monitoring the game, the smallest of gestures that made you wonder if maybe there was something more to him.

And one night, when everything felt like it was crashing in on you, you gave in to the urge to let him in—just a little. A small confession. A weak, desperate moment.

“Hanjo…” you whispered in the darkness of the control room, the hum of machinery your only company. “I’m pregnant.”

It wasn’t just any pregnancy. It was his. The result of a momentary lapse, of something unspoken between you two, something more than just the game or your duties as guards. You hadn’t meant to fall into this, but here you were, trapped in a place where the stakes were always life or death—and now, even more so.

The room had fallen deathly quiet after that. You couldn’t even hear the other guards moving, the usual noises of the facility suddenly muffled. Hanjo’s reaction wasn’t what you expected. His face was still obscured by his mask, but his stance faltered for just a second—his broad shoulders tightening, a flicker of tension rippling through him.

“I… don’t know what to say,” he muttered, his voice rough, an edge of panic you hadn’t expected. “How long?”

You swallowed hard. “A couple of months. But… it doesn’t matter. The game doesn’t care, Hanjo. We don’t get to make those choices.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, it felt like you could hear the wheels turning in his mind. The world outside this place was cruel and unforgiving, but this? This made everything feel even more impossible.

“This is a game for players,” he said slowly, his words weighing heavy with meaning. “This isn’t a place for… for anything that matters.” He paused, taking a step closer, the urgency in his voice almost palpable. “You can’t stay here. You can’t—"

“You think I don’t know that?” You snapped, surprising yourself. "But where else am I supposed to go, Hanjo? If I leave, they'll kill me. If I stay, I’m just as likely to die. But I can't leave. Not now. Not with this… this baby."

Your words hung in the air like a bitter truth. A truth neither of you knew how to navigate. He was silent for a long moment. His gaze never left you, his posture tense, like he was battling himself internally.

Finally, he took another step closer, his voice soft, yet filled with resolve. "I’ll protect you. I swear it. I’ll get us out of here."

But the weight of his promise only made the situation feel more hopeless. Because you both knew the rules: there was no escaping this. No way out. The system was too powerful, too inescapable.

But there was something in his words, something in the way he looked at you, that told you he meant it. Maybe he didn’t have a plan. Maybe he didn’t know how it could happen. But he’d do whatever it took to make sure you and the baby were safe. He’d try.

The days that followed were a blur of uncertainty. Every step you took, every moment spent in the cold hallways or standing guard over the players, felt more surreal. You could feel the life growing inside you, and with it, the knowledge that you couldn’t keep this secret forever. The fear gnawed at you constantly—the fear of being discovered, of what might happen if the wrong person found out.

Hanjo was more protective than ever. He kept a close eye on you, his presence a silent but constant reminder that there was someone who cared, someone who was fighting to protect you—even when you weren’t sure if you were worth protecting.

One night, after a particularly brutal game, you find yourself standing alone in one of the shadowed hallways. You’re exhausted, your body aching from hours of standing, but there’s a deeper weariness now—the mental toll of everything you’re carrying, the pregnancy, the fear of being caught, the constant threat of death hanging over every guard and player.

Hanjo finds you there, just as you knew he would. He steps up behind you, his voice low. “You should get some rest.”

You don’t respond at first, unsure how to explain the overwhelming swirl of emotions that has taken over. You know he’s right—you’re physically drained, but it’s more than that. Your mind races with thoughts of survival.

“I’m scared,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

The admission feels like a crack in your armor, but you don’t care. You can’t carry this on your own anymore. Not when there’s another life depending on you.

Hanjo stays quiet for a long moment, but you can feel his presence, steady and unwavering. Then, unexpectedly, his hand rests on your shoulder—a touch so rare and gentle it almost feels like it shouldn’t be happening in a place like this. You turn to him, and for the first time, you see the raw vulnerability in his eyes.

“You’re not alone,” he says quietly. “Not anymore. I’ll keep you safe. I won’t let them take you.”

And for the first time since you’ve been here, you let yourself believe him. Because in this world of violence and death, Hanjo’s words are the one thing that feels real. Even if you both know that survival in the Squid Game is a dream too far out of reach, there’s a spark between you—a spark that’s worth fighting for.

You have something to protect now. And he’ll fight for it. Fight for you.

[numberonesnarkfan]

wrote up a scene I've had in my head for months about Sawyer's childhood. Actually quite proud of how it turned out.

(CW for animal death)

Harley rarely smiled. 

Harley wasn’t happy.

But sometimes he was content for a moment, and that was close enough for him.

Sometimes he was unreachably manic. That was close enough for him.

Harley was eight years old. The little wooden house on the hill was his fourth foster home. Nobody ever kept him for long. They were polite, but he knew what they were thinking. If it wasn’t his general demeanour, it was little ‘incidents’ that got him put back into the orphanage.

Or juvy.

Sometimes the orphanage just didn’t have enough room.

Harley had never felt safe around people, even as a child. They did terrible things to him - the adults, the children. The guilty, the innocent. Didn’t matter. There was something blackened and rotten inside him, he knew. It made him unsafe from the world.

Animals, in comparison, were kind. They bit him not because of that confusing mass, but just because they were scared. He’d prefer to be bitten by a dog: he’d know he’d done something wrong and how to fix it. Humans bit him because he was scared.

He was only a boy. 

He wished death didn’t exist. He felt angry when he saw mothers and their daughters. Perfectly matched sets, so pure.

The orphanage nuns told him that the goat fled into the forest when its family was sacrificed, taking all of the world’s sin with it. He felt like a goat sometimes. Lamb to the slaughter.

He felt like a goat in the forest.

The forest was nice.

It was quiet, calm. No screaming or crying, no laughing or grabbing. Just him and the trees and Daisy.

Daisy was a Jack Russel Terrier. She bit him when she was scared. She licked him kindly when she was sorry. He trusted her. 

They played games with sticks and rocks. Harley sometimes waded into the pond until the water was up to his chest to catch newts and frogs. Daisy snuffled around at the edge of the water. She trusted him. 

Harley watched Daisy chase animals in the undergrowth. “That’s what Jack Russels do,” the foster lady had told him, “they’re bred to kill things smaller than themselves. Daisy’s great at catching rats.”

Mice and rats and snakes.

She trusted him.

He trusted her.

She wasn’t human.

But neither was he.

Harley remembered a summer night.

He remembered it for a long time.

It was half past eight at night. 

“I might just have to foster fail with you, boy.” His foster mother had told him while cooking dinner, “You’re so clever, you’d fit right into our family. When my husband comes back from overseas, he’d love to meet you.”

Cautiously, he’d smiled. 

There was a noise from the front porch. Daisy was barking at a raccoon again. He’d have to bring her inside. She’d try to fight anything.

Harley put on his summer evening coat and stepped outside. He remembered how it felt to reach up and grab the handle. He’d been so proud that he was tall enough. 

He didn’t see a raccoon. He saw a snake that darted quickly away into the foliage.

Daisy lay on her back. Her mouth opened. Her mouth closed. Her mouth opened. Her mouth closed. Her eyes stared. 

Harley heard no sound, no breath, no barking. He didn’t know what was happening. How could he?

He stood and stared.

Her mouth opened. Her mouth closed. Her mouth opened. Her mouth closed.

She went still.

What just happened?

He laughed.

“Daisy’s being silly!” he called back into the house. He mimicked her mouth movements. He thought it looked like a fish. It was funny. He was only a boy.

He sat down next to her and rubbed her belly. She felt different. 

Harley knew what dead things looked like. He’d seen dead lizards, dead bugs, dead kids. Daisy looked too much like a dead thing. 

He hit her. He kicked her. Bite me, he’d thought, Get up and bark at me. 

She didn’t.

He stood and stared. Her body slowly stiffened.

He heard creaking. His foster mother was on the second floor. 

Harley ran back into the house. Back into the kitchen.

Harley reached up over the countertop.

She had been dicing tomatoes. He pulled the knife down.

He walked solemnly back outside. His eyes felt wet, and they burned.

Harley stood over the dog.

It wasn’t Daisy anymore. Daisy was dead. Daisy didn’t exist.

Tears fell and soaked into her fur. 

Harley raised the blade and cut.

He struggled to saw a line down her middle. His arms were barely strong enough, even gripping the knife with both hands, cutting towards himself. He opened the hole. 

He saw her organs. They were still. 

He reached inside. It was still warm. 

He cried.

He didn’t understand.

How could he?

He was only a boy.

He trusted her.

Harley flinched.

He only realised why a few seconds later. There’d been a scream.

The foster lady was standing in the doorway.

She stared at the boy, arm deep inside her precious girl. The knife sat beside him. She’d only left it unattended for a moment.

She wondered what he’d been doing to Daisy out there in the woods, if he could kill her in cold blood right here.

He didn’t understand.

He was only a boy.

He trusted her. 

How could he?

The blood wasn’t washed off until he was at the police station. 

He might hurt the other kids, they said. He’d go to juvy this time.

He didn’t understand. How could he?

He was only a boy.

He’d only been a boy.

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Tommy needs Lucy more than ever after a devastating blow is dealt that will send shockwaves throughout the entire family and empire that he has built.

Word Count: 6,936

Warnings: Major character death, suicide baiting, grief, suicide/death pact, and references to past suicide attempts.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 21: A Thousand Tears

“Mr. Shelby? Miss. Winters?” Frances asked, eyes questioning and confused when they came in.

“Would some breakfast be possible, Frances?” Arthur asked. 

“It’s already set up in the dining room, Mr. Shelby. Mrs. Shelby and the children aren’t up yet, but I would expect that they will be soon.”

Lucy followed Arthur into the dining room, where he began to pile a plate high with eggs and sausage.

“You should eat,” he told her when she made no move towards the table.

“I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry to bother you again.” Frances appeared in the doorway. “But Charlie Strong just called.”

“I’ll get it.” Lucy was already moving towards the hall that led to the study. She closed the door behind her, walking over to the heavy wooden desk and picking up the phone from its cradle. “Charlie?”

“Lucy? Is that you? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s busy at the moment.”

“What the hell happened last night?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“You don’t know?”

Her mind had been turning over every possible person who could have spilled the information about the assassination. Anyone who was at the last family meeting was a possible leak. She knew that it wasn’t her, Tommy, or Arthur. Certainly not Aberama considering he was dead.

But that still left a lot of people who potentially could have blabbed.

“Tommy, Arthur, and I are working it out,” she tried to assure him.

“Johnny said that some of our people are dead.”

“Listen,” she walked over to look out the window. “I’ll call you when we have some information to share, alright? Keep the yard locked down for now. You’ll hear from us soon.” She froze, eyes focusing on the tall figure walking out of the house and towards the fields in the same direction that Tommy had gone. “I have to go, Charlie.”

“Now, wait just a second–”

She hung up the phone and rushed out of the room.

“Where is Lizzie going?” she demanded. Arthur looked up from his plate.

“I told her that Tom went to walk by the fields.”

Spinning on her heel, Lucy went quickly for the door.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go after them–”

“Stay here. Stay inside. Don’t let the children come outside.”

She ignored Arthur’s further attempts to call after her, jogging out the door and towards the fields. The whole area was covered in such thick fog, she could barely see a few inches in front of her face. Her shoes sunk into the mud all the way up to her ankles, causing her to stagger and wobble at the way it stuck and sucked at her feet. There was a bone-chilling, agonized scream from somewhere in front of her, the click of what sounded like an unloaded gun being fired. The thud of something falling into the mud. Lucy broke into a run, or the best that she could manage at one with the wet soil tugging at her shoes. She focused on the ground until she found the outline of shoes in the dirt and followed them. Somewhere, a significant way in front of her, she heard the hum of Lizzie’s voice. 

“You’re not even a soldier anymore, Tommy. You didn’t check your weapon. You’re not a soldier, you’re a coward. I heard you pull the trigger. Leaving your family behind without a goodbye. If you still need a way out, here are six of them.” The sound of clinking metal punctuated her words as bullets were tossed to the ground. Lizzie’s voice radiated nothing but complete and utter contempt and disgust. 

The squelch of footsteps in the mud began to grow louder, until finally Lizzie emerged from the fog, freezing to stare at Lucy, eyes widening a fraction. Lucy tilted her head to the side.

A cold sort of rage washed over her, quiet and dangerous, leaving her nearly trembling with it. Before she could even process her own movements, her hand flew out, striking Lizzie hard across the cheek. The woman’s hand flew to her face, mouth gaping at Lucy in shock from the slap. Lucy took a step back, looking at Lizzie almost as if also in surprise at her own actions. All the rage and resentment that she had kept bottled up toward Lizzie, locked tight in a box in the far recesses of her mind, came pouring out in one great rush.

How miserable Lizzie had made both her and Tommy. After all they’d done to try to make their situation as tolerable for her as possible. Of course they’d made mistakes, but she had known what she was getting herself into. No one had ever forced her into anything. And yet she turned around and hated them for it all the same; played at being the victim, when she had been nothing but an active participant in the misery that the three of them shared. 

And now she stood there, over Lucy’s lover as he laid in the mud, the gun he’d had pressed to his head a moment ago still grasped in his hand, and threw bullets at him while taunting him to try again. 

Lucy could tolerate being kicked by Lizzie over and over. Deep down she believed that she deserved it. But her going after Tommy in such a way, striking at him when he was already down, was not something Lucy would ever be able to tolerate. 

No one touched him or hurt him like that. Not on her watch. 

“Go back to the house and stay there,” her voice was level and quiet, but even she could hear the dangerous remnants of rage in it. “Don’t come back out. Don’t let the children go outside. Don’t even let Arthur go outside. When we come back, you will not speak to me. You will not speak to Tommy. Not until I say that you can.”

There were a thousand things that she wanted to say to Lizzie, to scream at her until she was hoarse. There was even the temptation to grab her by the back of the head, throw her to the ground, and shove her face down into the mud. 

Lizzie continued to stare at her, clutching her reddening cheek, eyes frightened. Lucy jerked her head.

“Go. Now.”  

The taller woman pulled herself to her full height, chin held high, jaw clenched. Before she walked around Lucy and back towards the house. 

With a deep, slow breath, she forced herself to let the anger go. Before it burned her up and consumed her from the inside out. She could deal with Lizzie more thoroughly later. Right now, Tommy needed her. When she turned away from watching Lizzie leave, she was met with another figure. White shirt blending into the fog, the wind ruffling her blonde hair. 

“You tried to take him from me,” Lucy said. Grace smiled sadly, apologetically.

“I’m sorry.”

Lucy just sighed. “Take me to him?” she asked softly. Grace nodded and turned wordlessly, guiding her through the mist.

The fog was so thick, she didn’t even see Tommy until she was practically colliding with him, grasping at the front of his shirt in surprise. Half of his body was covered entirely in mud, no doubt where he had fallen. In one hand, he was clutching the empty gun. In the other, a handful of the bullets Lizzie had thrown at him.

“Lucy.”

He looked smaller than usual, huddled in his suit jacket, tear tracks clear on the side of his face not drenched in mud. He was shaking, unable to meet her eyes.

“Tommy,” she cupped the side of his face not caked with dirt. “Oh, love.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, body wracked with a violet sob. Shaking her head, Lucy pulled him tightly into her arms, not caring that he was getting mud all over her. He buried his face in her shoulder, arms going around her waist. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” was being chanted over and over again like a mantra. She stroked at his back and hair, practically holding him up with how hard he was crying.

“It’s alright, love. It’s alright. I’ve got you,” she rocked him gently from side to side. But she didn’t shush his sobs. The poor man probably needed to have a good cry.

It could have been hours or only minutes, she wasn’t sure, but Tommy eventually quieted. Lucy turned her head, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Okay?” 

He nodded. She knew better than to believe that he was truly alright, but at least she could be relatively confident that she’d gotten him stabilized enough to keep him from doing anything rash. He pulled away from her and she frowned, tugging a handkerchief from her pocket and attempting to wipe away the mud on his face.

“Close your eyes.”

He did as she asked, so she could clean his face without fear of getting mud in his sad, beautiful blue orbs. He opened them and looked down at himself.

“Oh, God,” he groaned, and under any other circumstances it would have been quite funny, to see the look of utter disgust take over his face as he fully took in his current state of being. Completely and utterly caked with mud. Lucy wrapped an arm around his waist to help support his uneasy steps and, rather gingerly, they began the trek back to the house. 

The phone in the study was ringing when they arrived, Frances was there to greet them, but quickly scampered off at Lucy’s gesture for her to leave them.

They staggered into the study, Tommy dumping the gun and bullets onto the desk before picking up the phone. He tilted it a bit where it rested against his ear so that she could listen in.

Lizzie came storming into the office, but one look at Lucy’s face and a small shake of her head and she remained silent, just standing in the corner with her arms crossed over her chest. Together, Lucy and Tommy listened quietly as the woman on the phone spoke to them of how the IRA had been the ones to thwart the assassination. And that the truck pulling up on the front drive was there to deliver to them the three bodies of their dead.         

Three. Three? Two of them had to be Aberama and Barney, but who was the third?

She followed Tommy back outside, to where the three bodies had been spread out on the driveway. They were each wrapped in white sheets and twine. Tommy pulled a knife from his pocket and crouched down over one, cutting away the twine. He pulled away the material covering the face.

Barney.

He moved to the next body and repeated the process.

Aberama.

To the third, then. She could see Lizzie watching from the window. Anxiety churned in Lucy’s guts, mind racing to try to figure out who it could be that was wrapped up in that white sheet.

Tommy pulled away the material, just enough to uncover the face.

Lucy staggered away for a moment, chest shuddering, too shocked to even be able to make a sound. Tommy clasped a hand over his mouth. His face crumpled with horrified grief and guilt. He turned to look at her in desperation before turning away, a hand over his eyes as he began to shake with sobs. With unsteady steps, Lucy stumbled forward. She looped her arms around Tommy, pulling him close so that he could turn his face to cry into her stomach. Silent tears rolled down her own cheeks.

As she stared down at the lifeless face of Polly Gray.     

∗ ∗ ∗

She watched Tommy with increasing worry, fingers toying with her rings, lip caught between her teeth. He was sitting at his desk, staring vacantly at nothing, one hand holding a smoking cigarette but not bringing it to his lips. There was something dead and empty in his eyes that had her worry tripling. 

She and Polly had never really seen eye to eye, or gotten along much at all for that matter. At least not until towards the very end. But Lucy knew how massively important she had always been to Tommy. 

He had already been so raw from the failure of the assassination plan, Lucy feared for what this would do to his already fragile mental state. She could see him blaming himself, starting to tailspin out of control down a dark abyss of self hatred. 

The day had passed in a blur after they uncovered the bodies sent to their doorstep. Arthur was in hysterics the moment he saw Polly laid out on the drive, Lizzie’s face pale and horror stricken at the window. 

Tommy hadn’t been in any state to give orders. So Lucy had taken it upon herself. She set Lizzie to work calling everyone and telling them the news. She’d have done it, but she was afraid to leave Tommy’s side for that long. She feared that her presence was the only thing keeping him from raising his pistol to his temple again. And this time he knew to check to make sure that the chambers weren’t empty. 

Most of the family had come to the house once they heard the news. Most were quiet in their mourning, sipping whiskey and speaking in low voices where they gathered in one of the sitting rooms. Ada–to Lucy’s great relief–took charge of handling Arthur before he hurt himself. She could only handle one suicidal Shelby brother on her own at a time, and Tommy was always her priority.

The only problem was Michael.

He’d gone into the room where they’d laid out Polly’s body, alone, and didn’t come out for a long while. And when he did, he made a beeline for Tommy, screaming, roaring in his face, spittle flying from his lips, threats and curses echoing throughout the room. It took her, Charlie Strong, and Johnny Dogs to all wrestle him off of him. And Lizzie had to threaten to throw him out of the house to get him to stop shouting. He’d spat at Tommy’s feet and stormed off into another room with Gina, and they hadn’t seen them since.      

Throughout the entire altercation, Tommy made no move or attempt to defend himself, simply standing there, staring at Michael miserably. Lucy had a feeling that if Michael had tried to kill him, Tommy would have let him. 

It was late. Darkness had fallen outside, blanketing the grounds in pitch black. 

Asher was laid out at Tommy’s feet. He’d been hovering by him ever since Lucy finally managed to shepherd him back into the house. When Tommy retreated into the office shortly after Michael confronted him, Asher had followed him. He’d plucked up one of his toys from the floor, carrying it in his mouth over to Tommy and dropping it at his feet, nudging at his legs with his nose to try to get him to play. When Tommy made no acknowledgement of him, Asher had started crying softly, going to Lucy and even trying to herd her with little nips and nudges at her heels towards him, before finally laying down next to Tommy, watching him with worried big brown eyes. 

Such a good boy. Always looking out for them. 

Trouble was also agitated. She kept rubbing herself against Tommy’s legs, meowing up at him curiously and hovering nearby, green eyes focused on him intently. 

Both animals clearly had picked up on their owners’ distress. Lucy couldn’t help but note how the clinginess that they had shown towards her after she’d first arrived home from the hospital had transferred over to Tommy. Like they knew that each of them had tried to take their own lives.  

Probably, at least on some level, they did. 

“Tommy,” she took a tentative step closer to him. He didn’t respond. She was starting to worry that his still burning cigarette would burn all the way down until it singed his fingers and he wouldn’t even notice. “Love,” she slid her hand into his hair, palm laying flat against the back of his skull. She managed to convince him to change out of his muddied clothes and take a quick bath to get the lingering dirt off his body before everyone had started showing up. He’d laid back in the tub, eyes staring up at the ceiling while she sat on a stool beside him and he let her wash him. His hair was soft and smelled nice from the soaps she’d lathered in it, fingers working carefully to massage the crusting dirt from the dark strands without pulling on them. 

Again, she was struck at how sharply their positions had reversed from where they’d been only a few days ago. 

Going to perch on the desk in front of him, she took the cigarette from between his fingers, stubbing it out in the ashtray and caressing the side of his face. 

There was a soft knock on the door. Lucy sighed. 

“Come.”

The door opened, and Lizzie slipped in. “Ada finally got Arthur to go to sleep.”

Lucy let out a breath of relief. “Good.”

“Pretty much everyone else is heading to bed. I told them they could all stay in the spare rooms, if they liked. Ada said that she would sleep in Arthur’s room with him. To make sure he doesn’t get up in the middle of the night and…you know.”

“Good.”

“And…Charlie says that he’s found a wagon that he thinks will be suitable.”

Lucy swallowed hard. “Right. Assuming nothing changes, I think we can still plan on lighting the fire tomorrow, then.”

Lizzie took a step forward, holding out an envelope. “Johnny Dogs came back with this.”

Lucy hopped off the desk and went to take it from her. She turned it around, flicked it open and checked the contents inside. Satisfied, she tucked the envelope away into her pocket. “Are Michael and Gina still up?”

“I think so. They’re in the west sitting room.”

“Right,” she hesitated, glancing over at Tommy. Trouble had hopped up to curl in his lap. She didn’t want to leave him, but they had both agreed that this needed to be done, and she didn’t trust anyone else to do it. 

Lizzie noticed her nerves. “I can stay with him,” she offered, voice lowering so only Lucy could hear.

Lucy frowned, remembering the bullets Lizzie had thrown at him.

“I promise that I won’t…” Lizzie sighed. “I’m sorry for what I did out there in the field. It wasn’t right.”

Lucy eyed her carefully. “I’m sorry that I slapped you,” she said finally. To her surprise, Lizzie just shrugged with a small smile.

“Call it even?”

Lucy frowned, unsure if she would ever entirely be able to forget Lizzie baiting the love of her life into trying to shoot himself again. But she couldn’t be fighting with Lizzie right now. Plus, they’d finally managed to get to an at least somewhat good place with each other. She shouldn’t throw that away. For everyone’s sake. 

“Alright.” Walking around the desk, she bent to kiss Tommy’s forehead. “I’m gonna go deal with Michael and Gina, love. I’ll be right back.”

His face turned to her, hand shooting out to grab her arm. “Be careful.”

“I will. Don’t worry.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “I’ll only be a minute,” she told Lizzie, who had plopped down onto the loveseat and lit a cigarette.  

She made her way to the sitting room with hurried steps, fingers flexing at her sides. Without bothering to knock, she blew through the door, striding in to find Michael and Gina standing together by the window, speaking in hushed voices. Their heads whipped around when she came in, immediately going silent. Lucy raised an eyebrow.

“Scheming again, are we?”

Michael scowled. “What do you want, demon?”

“You know,” she stepped deeper into the room. There was an untouched plate of little appetizers that Frances must have brought for them at some point. Lucy plucked one up and popped it into her mouth. “I take that title as a compliment.” 

Hands shoving into her pockets, she leaned against the wall, looking over the pair of would-be-usurpers lazily. 

“You can stay for the funeral,” she said slowly. “But then you need to leave. I think it’s well past time you both returned to America, eh?”

Gina’s lips curled back from her teeth. “How dare you try to tell us–”

“If it were up to me,” Lucy talked right over her. She didn’t even really pay the little brat any mind at all, her gaze fixed squarely on Michael. “We’d have slit both your throats and sunk you in the canal the second after you proposed that fucking restructuring of the company. But Tommy, in honor of your mother’s memory, has decided to be merciful.” Reaching into her pocket, she tossed the envelope Lizzie had given her onto the table between them. “That’s two tickets for the train to Liverpool, and two tickets for a ship departing for New York in two days’ time. First class, of course.”

Michael didn’t look at the envelope. Instead he merely stared at her, eyes burning with hatred. 

“It’s his fault she’s dead.”

“No. It was the IRA and fascists who killed her, Michael.”

“Yeah, and he’s doing fuck all to punish them for it!”

“It’s been less than twenty four hours since he was weeping over her body in the driveway. What do you expect him to have done in that time?” A scoff left her lips, shaking her head. “Petulant child. All you’re looking for is an excuse to kill him and steal his throne. It’s what you’ve been planning from the beginning, right? Since you came back from America, if not before. And now you’re grasping for a justification of it. Because you need to convince yourself that she wouldn’t have hated you for trying to hurt Tommy. But let’s not pretend that killing him wasn’t what you were planning to do long before Polly was dead, Michael.”

Michael’s jaw worked. “She would have chosen me.”

Lucy chuckled, shrugging one shoulder. “Maybe. I guess we’ll never really know, will we?” 

Michael broke eye contact with her, looking away with his nostrils flaring. 

Lucy cocked her head. “She always loved your sister more than you.” She saw the blow hit. The way that Michael flinched almost imperceptibly at it. Good. She was done playing nice. She wanted to hurt him.

Taking a step forward, she drew herself to her full height, schooling her features into the immovable mask of cold sternness and wrath that was the Red Demon. 

“As a result of your attempts to undermine and usurp the boss, and your repeated defiance, petulance, and incompetence, you are no longer a member of this Shelby family. By order of the Peaky Blinders. We do not trust you. And we do not want you here. You are to leave after the funeral, or I am free to deal with both of you as I see fit.” 

Michael’s expression was one of complete, burning fury. He seemed to be shaking a little with it. But he made no movement towards her, nor tried to argue against her declaration. Lucy held eye contact with him for a few more beats, then turned and walked from the room without another word. 

When she returned to the office, it was to find Tommy and Lizzie still there. Trouble was batting around a ball of yarn across the rug that Lizzie must have set out for her. Both Tommy and Lizzie were watching her quite intently. They looked up when Lucy came in. 

“It’s done.”

“It went alright?” Tommy asked, tapping a fresh cigarette into the ashtray. 

“As well as can be expected.”

“Right,” Lizzie stood. “I’m going to go check that the children are asleep and then I’m going to bed. Unless either of you need anything?”

They both shook their heads.

“Alright,” she went to the desk, giving Tommy a peck on the forehead and then turning to Lucy, bending to kiss her cheek. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” they both mumbled after her. 

Once she was gone, Lucy went to Tommy, sliding her arms around his shoulders and tucking her face into his neck. 

“It’s late. Let’s go to bed, hm? Come on.” Entwining their fingers together, she pulled him from his chair and led him to the door. Behind them, she heard the soft pad of Asher and Trouble’s paws trailing after them.  

She took him to her room, closing the door once both Asher and Trouble slipped in after them, then thought of Michael still lurking in the house somewhere, and locked it. Just in case.

With numb, almost automated movements, Tommy took off all his clothes save for his underwear and climbed into bed. Lucy wondered if he even was aware of what he was doing, or if he merely was running on instinct while his mind dissociated somewhere very far away. Stripping down to her knickers, she decided it was too much work to root around her wardrobe for one of her nightgowns, instead merely snagging one of his soft cotton Henley’s and pulling that on. When she turned back to the bed, Tommy was sitting there, legs half drawn up to his chest and his back bent, playing with his fingers and watching her with eyes full of deep longing and sorrow. 

Checking one last time that the animals were tucked away in their respective beds, she climbed into her side of the big bed, reaching over the flick off the light. Shifting to recline against the pillows, she fixed her gaze on Tommy’s figure next to her, still hunched over, twiddling with his fingers. When she curled her hand around his shoulder to try to get his attention, she found his skin to be a little clammy. He sighed, letting her coax him to lay down beside her. In the dark, she could just make out the way that he was staring up at the canopy, lips trembling and throat flexing. Moments away from crying. 

It hurt her to see him like this. So broken and devastated beyond belief. 

“Come here, love,” she pulled him into her arms, his head resting on her chest. She began to card her fingers through his thick dark hair, hoping it would help to soothe him. She was under no illusions that he probably wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight–neither of them would. 

His shoulders started to shake, arms going around her, and suddenly a ragged, broken sob tore from his throat, sounding like he had tried to stifle it but failed.

“Tommy…”

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, clinging to her tightly, body half collapsing in on itself with the force of his cries. “I’m so, so sorry, Lucy. Please don’t leave me. Please, please. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything. Just please…” he looked up at her, expression laid bare, completely vulnerable and pleading. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

Tears welled into her own eyes, taking hold of both of his cheeks. “I won’t. I won’t, I promise. I’ll never leave you again.”

“I love you so much,” he hiccupped, burrowing deeper against her, as if he were trying to meld them into one being. “I need you.” 

“I love you too. I love you more than anything, Tommy,” she shushed him gently, tightening her hold on him. “I know. I know. It’s okay.” Kissing the top of his head, she nuzzled into him and rubbed his back, lump in her throat growing at his quiet cries against her chest. She could feel the dampness of his tears seeping into her skin. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

Throughout the entire night, he wept in her arms, and the whole time, she held him as tightly as she could. Until his sobs gave way to quiet crying, to sniffles, and finally he fell into a fitful sleep against her. 

Lucy remained awake, a little afraid to fall asleep in case he woke in the middle of the night and needed her. 

Was this what he had felt like after she’d cut her wrists? No wonder he’d been reluctant to let her out of his sight since then. 

She squeezed him a little tighter, both out of wanting to comfort him even in his sleep, and out of guilt for what she’d put him through.   

Silver moonlight was filtering in through a crack in the curtains.

 It caught and glinted briefly against the gold of his wedding ring, where it rested on the hand he had settled on her hip. She stared at it numbly. 

She had almost completely forgotten the train ticket that she’d purchased. Still likely hidden under the mattress in her room at Charlie’s. She doubted that anyone had found it yet. But   dealing with getting the train and ship tickets for Michael and Gina had reminded her of it. 

She could not leave him. Not after everything that had just happened. Not when she knew that he still loved her and wanted her in his life. Not when she still loved him. And certainly not after it was just all but confirmed to her that she was still the only one able and willing to take care of him. There had been a time when she thought that maybe Lizzie would actually be up to the task, but that was before she’d openly tossed bullets at him mere moments after he tried to shoot himself. 

She could not trust Lizzie. Not with this. Not with Tommy’s life and wellbeing. 

But could she live with the guilt that remaining would bring? It would never be completely smooth sailing with Lizzie. And she still felt the burn of self hatred for what she’d put her through. What she continued to put her through. Would she be able to let that go? To allow herself to be at peace with the choices they’d made and not forever seek to punish herself for the crime of being the recipient of Tommy’s love? 

She honestly didn’t know. She supposed she would have to, if she wanted to stay. It was that or be torn apart by guilt and self hatred. 

He’d promised that he would help her. All she had to do was let him. 

Let it go, Lucy. Let the guilt go, and be happy.

In his sleep, Tommy turned over, eyes still closed. “Lucy?”

She shifted closer, squeezing her arms around him. “I’m right here.”

“Mm,” he nuzzled into her chest. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t, sweetheart,” she promised, kissing his forehead. “I won’t leave you alone.”

He snuffled, then settled back down into sleep. Lucy kissed his temple and settled more heavily into the mattress, with him still clutched tightly in her arms.  

∗ ∗ ∗

The smoke barely cleared from the funeral wagon and Tommy was pulling away, turning to stride off into the trees. Lizzie called for him quietly, a hand reaching out to try to grasp at his shoulder but he shook her off, not even turning to look at her. Lucy waited only a small beat before following him, keeping her eyes trained on the ground in front of her, not wanting to have to deal with the rest of the family’s gaze that she was sure was fixed upon them.

He had come to a stop at a small creek, settled down on a rock with his gloved hands clasped in front of him. Lucy sat herself carefully down beside him, her shoulder brushing his gently. This was better. In the quiet of nature, without the tears of the family or Michael’s furious eyes.

They all were likely convening now, muttering to themselves about how heartless their patriarch was, unable to shed a tear even at his own aunt’s funeral.

They had not been there, when he pulled the cloth away to reveal Polly’s lifeless eyes. They had not seen as his buried his face in his hands and wept. How she’d had to put her arms around him for fear that if she didn’t he would collapse completely.  

Now her small hand looped around him to rub at one strong shoulder. Tommy sighed heavily, rubbing tiredly at his eyes, body drooping. Lucy let her head settle on his shoulder. She was hit with a sudden wave of deja vu, of memories of sitting with him alone outside in the dark near Arrow House. On those nights after Grace died and neither of them could stand to be in that mansion for one more minute. They would sit, their arms around one another, often both quietly weeping as they watched the flames of the fire they’d built dance before them. 

How cruel this world was to make them bury so many that they loved. 

“Fuck,” Tommy mumbled, lifting his head from where he bowed it. Lucy hummed softly and closed her eyes. Tommy shook his head and leaned back, blue eyes gazing at the sky. “Everyone I love dies.”

She sat up, head lifting from its home on his shoulder. She didn’t know what to say to make any of this better. She knew that he felt cursed; that his presence did nothing but bring misery and pain to everyone he cared about. 

“Not me,” she replied hoarsely. And not for lack of trying, either. With how many close brushes with death she had managed to survive, she was beginning to think that maybe she really was unkillable like some of the people in Small Heath whispered. Tommy glanced down at her with those devastated eyes. She cracked a tiny smile, “Apparently I’m gonna live forever.”

His lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. He tucked a red lock of hair behind her ear, thumb rubbing along her cheek. Turning her head, her eyes peered up at him. He continued to pet her cheek, his expression dropping as he stared at her.

“Did I ruin your life?”

Startled by the question, her brows furrowed, immediately shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t even have a life if it weren’t for you.” 

Tommy looked at her with such heartbreakingly sad eyes that it made her chest ache to just look at them.

“I could have protected you from Matthew and your father without dragging you into any of this. You could have had a good, normal, easy life somewhere.” He looked back at the creek, eyes tracking the way that the water rushed past, carrying bits of leaves and debris with it.

“Boring,” she remarked with a click of her tongue. Her head cocked curiously. “Why didn’t you?”

“I liked you,” he shrugged. “You made me feel…I didn’t have to be Thomas Shelby with you. I could just be Tommy.” He glanced back at her again. “You were pretty. And smart. And loyal. And you intrigued me. I wanted to keep you close.”

“Am I not still all of those things?” she teased lightly.

“You know what I mean,” he chastised in a failed attempt to hide his amusement. She grasped his arm, lifting it to wrap around her shoulders, snuggling into his warm side. Her gloved hand stroked his jaw.

“If I had the chance to go back to when I made that deal with you on the bridge, I wouldn’t change a thing,” her forehead rested against his. “Not one bit of it.”

“I love you.” 

Her eyes fluttered. “I love you, too.”

They sat there for a while, listening to the birds chirp and the brook babble. 

“Are we going to try to kill Mosley again?”

“No.”

She was a little taken aback at how immediate his response was. “No?”

He shook his head furiously. “These people who stopped us this time…clearly they want very badly to keep him alive.” His arm tightened a little around her. “I can’t lose anymore of you.” 

Understandable, and she knew better than to try to push the matter. At least not right now. She’d still like to see the fascist bastard bleed, sometime. 

“I’ve decided to stop drinking.” 

She jerked. “You what?”

He nodded, slowly. “It’s been addling my mind. Keeping me from thinking as clearly. And…”

She shifted a little closer to him, raising an eyebrow curiously. “And…?” she coaxed. 

Tommy looked at her softly. Regretfully. “It almost lost me you. If I hadn’t been so drunk that night Lizzie came to me with her deal, I probably wouldn’t have agreed to it.”

She reached up to cup his face, resting her forehead on his. “I’ll quit with you. Solidarity.”  

His lips twitched upwards. “You don’t have to…”

“It’s alright. It would probably be good for my liver, anyway.” She gave him a stern look. “I’m not giving up smoking, though.” 

“Oh, absolutely not.”

She giggled, pecking his lips. When she pulled back, he was smiling at her softly, thumb rubbing against her cheek.

He hesitated, wetting his lips, smile falling, one hand sliding down to dip under the left sleeve of her coat, stroking his fingertips across the bandages on her wrists. The pain in his eyes doubled. Lucy leaned closer to him. 

“Stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” she mumbled, shaking her head. Tommy’s eyes snapped up to hers. 

“You–”

“Massively overreacted? Yeah, something like that.”

He shook his head. “You were in pain. It…It wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t yours either.”

“I wasn’t there for you…”

“You were trying to be. I was the one who kept shutting you out.” With a sigh, she drew her knees in closer to her chest. It was chilly out there in the middle of the woods. Her hand began to stroke along his arm. “What about you?”

“Hm?” 

“You held a gun to your head, Tommy.” She swallowed dryly around the words. The way he had screamed while she was searching for him in the mist still haunted her. Visions of variations of that moment, where Arthur didn’t think to take the bullets out, ran through her mind. The crack of gunfire. The splatter of brains meeting dirt. The thud of his lifeless body hitting the ground.

She huddled in closer to him, slipping a hand into his coat to more distinctly feel the warmth of his body. A reminder that he was still there with her.  

“I’m alright.”

“Very convincing, love,” she huffed sarcastically. “Just promise me that you aren’t…” she choked on the words, closing her eyes. “Promise me you aren’t going to try to do it again.”

The pads of his fingers rubbed across her cheek. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her with a blue gaze full of understanding. “I promise if you promise.”

She supposed that was fair, angling her head against his shoulder to more properly meet his eyes. “I promise.”

He kissed her nose, starting to idly play with her fingers. Lucy tugged off one of his gloves so that she could trace across the faint scar that still marked his palm, a twin to the one she had on hers. “You’re all I have, you know that?”

“So are you.”

She shook her head with a small, self deprecating laugh. “You have your family…”

“Do I?” 

“They love you, Tommy.”

“Yeah,” he shifted, leaves crunching beneath him. “To a point.”

There was nothing she could say to argue against that. Instead she just squeezed him tighter.

“I don’t want to live without you,” he brushed his hand across her face, thumb stroking up and down her cheek. “I don’t think that I can.”

“Me neither,” she whispered, understanding.  

He kissed her forehead, the other arm joining the one already around her to squeeze her against him. Together they sat quietly, listening to the sounds of the forest and the creek around them. 

An idea came to her. “Let’s swear it.”

Tommy raised his head to look at her. “What?”

She looked into his eyes, deadly serious. “Let’s swear that we won’t live without one another.” She reached out to stroke her thumb along his bottom lip. “If one of us dies, so does the other.”

He looked into her eyes for a long, long time. And then he reached into his pocket and procured a switchblade. The silver blade popped out with a sharp click. He flexed open his palm, bringing the knife to the faded scar made from their blood bond. Forged so many years ago. He sliced into the skin cleanly, deep enough to have blood welling from the wound, but not so deep as to cause any real damage. Lucy pulled off her gloves, holding her scarred palm out to him. He drew the blade along the scar carefully, kissing her temple when she hissed at the sting. 

Bleeding hands raising, they pressed them flush against each other, staring intently into each other’s eyes. And then entwined their fingers, squeezing their palms together, their blood mixing. Like it had that time they created their blood bond in 1918. Like when the paramedics had transfused his blood into her to keep her alive. 

His blood ran through her veins. He was a part of her. Forever. They were merged. Blurred together. One.  

“If you go; I go,” Tommy said, his face so close to hers that she could count his eyelashes. 

“If you go; I go,” she repeated. Their hands squeezed even tighter against each other. Their mixed blood dripped to run down their arms and splatter onto the ground. 

Tommy kissed her, Lucy’s fingers weaving into his hair and keeping his face close when he did. 

The pact was complete.

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SISSY FIGHT