#...unlike someone else in a few chapters...

[topazy]

Teen spirit

Pairing: Carl Grimes × reader

Warnings: Swearing, minor violence

Chapter: 7.02

“Do you need any help?”

“No,” your voice cracks. “I’m fine... but thank you.”

Michonne clears her throat. “Rosita is just down the hall if you need anything. I’m going to go get some clean bandages.”

You nod.

Michonne stares at you for a moment, a sympathetic look on her face, before hesitantly closing the bathroom door. Unlike the house you lived in that only had showers, this one has a bathtub with a shower head attached to the wall. You turn the tap, switching it on; you step back, giving the water a chance to heat up.

You catch your reflection in the mirror; the sight of tangled strands of hair stuck together with blood causes you to almost throw up.

Feeling completely defeated, you step into the bath, wincing because of the pulling sensation on your stitches, then slowly sit down in the tub. Your clothes stick to your body as the warm water sprays over you, and you watch in silence as the foul-colored water, which is darkened by blood and dirt, starts to disappear down the drain.

You're unsure how much time has passed when the door opens. There’s a brief pause before then you hear Carl’s trembling voice, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

He places folded-up towels on the closed toilet lid and sits on the floor beside the tub. You feel Carl grab your hand, and immediately you feel tears well up in your eyes as you think about what Negan tried to do to him, what he tried to make Rick do to his son.

“I should have gone with Maggie,” you eventually say. “I should have stayed with my sister.”

“Selfishly, I’m glad you didn’t; I don’t want to feel alone.”

—

You watch from Carl’s bedroom as the saviors carry chairs, mattresses, food, and weapons to their vans. What the hell did they need all that stuff for? To refurbish their den. You shake your head in disgust watching as Father Gabriel approaches Negan.

“That asshole said we had a week.”

Carl gently pulls you away from the window so you are out of sight. Only a few days have passed since Glenn and Abraham were killed, their blood no doubt still a stain where they died, and Negan was already at the gates of your home looking for half of—well, everything.

“I know you’re beyond pissed, but someone needs to stay with Judith. She’s starting to fuss, and he doesn’t know about her yet. He can’t know.”

You swallow down all the curse words that come to mind. The saviors were getting more rowdy as they stole more belongings and scared more people. “Okay, uh, I’ll take Judith into the attic, and if they ask about the baby stuff, just say we collected it for Maggie.”

“That’s a good idea… I’m sure Maggie and the baby are okay.”

You had gone to great lengths to avoid speaking about your sister at all costs because every time you spoke about her, you broke down in tears. You were desperate to see her, but you completely understood why, at the time, Michonne thought it was best for you to return to Alexandria with them instead. Maggie needed to focus on herself without worrying about you.

“That’s a good idea; I’ll go get her.”

Carl goes to leave, but you catch his hand and lean forward; your lips meet in a kiss. “I’ll stay hidden until you come and find me.”

—

Once the saviors start to drive away, Carl lets you know the coast is clear, and you finally join the rest of your community outside. You weren’t sure of everything that had happened, but Carl told you his dad had to rummage through Spencer’s home to find the guns he was hiding.

While he continues to talk, all you can think about is the anger pulsing through your body. Did Spencer not understand how dangerous these people are? It was surprising Negan didn’t kill anyone else.

Rick notices you holding Judith and waves you over; his daughter was really becoming the light to everyone’s darkness. With so much death, it was easy to want to give up, but her cute little face was a constant reminder to keep going, that there were things worth fighting for.

Noticing Spencer lingering behind him, you narrow your eyes. You don’t hear the full conversation, just the end of it, when you hand Judith over to her father.

“You got lucky with the wall; you got lucky with us.” Rick holds his daughter with one arm and slings the other over your shoulder while walking slowly in the opposite direction. “How are you holding up? Carl told me about your plan. I’m thankful, but you're supposed to be taking it easy—”

“We should have made a deal with them when we could’ve.” Not getting a reaction, Spencer waits until Rick’s further away and shouts, “Oh yeah, we got so lucky. You’ve led us all to the promised land! Isn’t that right, Rick? Here we are! I guess Glenn and Abraham were lucky, too?”

Oh hell no.

You spin fast on your heels and storm towards him. “What was that?”

If it weren’t for Rick, you doubted most of you would still be alive. And for Spencer to bring Glenn and Abraham into his petty argument was bullshit.

Spencer rolls his eyes. “Come on—”

In that moment you want him to feel the same type of hurt everyone else was, but you doubt he is capable of it and jab Spencer on the nose before he can finish his sentence. Rosita jumps out of the car and steps between the two of you. “Y/N, go back inside now. Inside, go.”

—

“You have a good right hook on you.”

“I’m not apologizing. Spencer was being an asshole.”

Carl holds his hands up defensively before coming to join you on the floor. The saviors had taken all the mattresses from his house, so you’d be sleeping on the remaining blankets and pillows, which couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient time. Your actions earlier had come back and bitten you in the ass, and your side was now in agonizing pain again.

You hold eye contact while searching Carl’s face for any sign of what he’s feeling. “What’s going on?”

He chews on his bottom lip for a few moments before answering. “I overheard my dad and Michonne talking. Judith is Shane’s.”

Not knowing what to say, you rest your head on his shoulder. Everything was a mess. You had heard whispers while living on the farm and at the prison, but once Lori died, they stopped. “He loves her as much as he loves you.”

“My dad was shot in the line of duty, then a few days later the outbreak happened. I was devastated; I thought I’d lost my dad and my mom… my mom. Shane was his best friend.”

You sit in silence for some time while Carl processes this new information; his hands are trembling. Your eyes are closed until you feel soft lips pressing against the crown of your head. “I thought it was pretty badass when you punched Spencer.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure anyone else thought that.” You look up at all the small holes in the door where Carl has been throwing darts; since his vision was compromised, he was missing the board and hitting the door. You link your fingers with his, “I want to see Maggie. I need to know how she is, how the baby is.”

Carl looks deep in thought; eventually, he scoffs. “If it wasn’t for Negan, you could be with her… I know how to put things right.”

[abiteofhoney]

The Vampire and The Devilspawn

3183 words | Chapter Navigation

Chapter 10

It’s not often that Anzurin doesn’t know what to do. It’s very rare that anything frightens him, but the rage in her eyes as she tried relentlessly to get him…. That scared him. There was death in her eyes, a murderous fire in her dead heart unlike any other vampire he’s ever seen. 

Rightfully so. 

After what’s been done to her, he’s surprised she’s not worse off. If he’d experienced half of what it seems she’s been through, he’d be killing everyone in his path and not stopping until he has to be killed, and maybe that’s where Magdalena is heading, but he will not kill her. She shouldn’t have to die because someone else hurt her so horribly. 

But it’s been a long time since Anzurin has witnessed such raw, unbridled rage, the first time he’s ever been on the receiving end of it, and it’s somewhere he never wants to be again. He knows that he’ll piss a lot of people off in the future - that’s unavoidable – but he can avoid making Magdalena that angry at him again. He’s ventured into Magdalena’s mind uninvited for the last time, and he’s kicking himself for doing it at all. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, a whisper in the silence of her bedroom, whether she believes him or not. He means it. He truly means it, so he promises to her, “I’ll never do that again without asking you first. And, even more, I’ll teach you how to keep devilspawn out so no one can ever get in your mind again. I’m sorry, Magdalena.” 

“You’re not,” she cries, and it hurts his heart to hear the pain in her voice. 

Now that she’s not fighting, he unwinds his tail from her ankles and sets her back on her feet. He pulls back to look at her, but she keeps her tearfilled stare firmly on his chest. “I am sorry,” Anzurin insists. “I am. I swear I’ll never again enter your mind without permission. Come on, Maggie, you’re hungry, aren’t you? Let me feed you.” 

He knows it’s probably not his best idea, not while he still hasn’t eaten yet today, not when she’s still so angry and upset, but it’s the only way he can think to show her that he is sorry, that he wants to help her. It’s all he can do for her right now, at least. 

It’s his way of extending a hand to her, and he hopes she takes it. 

So it’s a relief when she nods and her gaze crawls up his chest to his neck. He doesn’t move as she reaches up to trace her pointer finger down the front of his throat, then her attention cuts to the bed and she points at it. “Lay down.” 

Apprehension twists his gut, but Anzurin does as she requests and kicks off his shoes before placing himself in the middle of the bed, leaning back against the headboard. 

But as she climbs into the mattress next to him, she shakes her head and repeats, “Lay down.” 

Heart pounding, he does. He scoots down until his head finds the pillows. Magdalena wastes no time in swinging a leg over his waist to straddle him, and she places her palms on his chest as she stares down at him. She focuses first on his neck, lips twitching in a hint of a smile when he swallows roughly, but that ghost of a grin disappears as she slowly raises her gaze to his. 

Her eyes meet his, and he recognizes it for what it is: a moment of trust. Trusting him not to intrude on her mind. Trusting him with the door to her soul and hoping he doesn’t burst through it, so he doesn’t. Anzurin simply gazes up at her and leaves her mind untouched. It’s hers, and she made it perfectly clear that he needs to stay out of it. 

She holds still for a few seconds, red-brown eyes bouncing back and forth between Anzurin’s. Her eyes are getting redder, little by little the more she feeds on blood. Soon, there won’t be a sliver of brown left, no remaining evidence of her human life. 

So incredibly slowly, Magdalena leans down towards him, stopping only when their noses are an inch from touching, and Anzurin’s heart stutters a beat when her touch finds his face, expecting her to lose her temper and use his moment of weakness against him. She’s in an advantageous position against him, sitting on top of him, and she could really do some damage before he’s able to stop her if she so wishes. 

But just as she trusted him to stay out of her mind a moment ago, he trusts her to not hurt him, and it pays off when she only caresses the side of his face. Her touch ventures upwards, first, and he shudders with a shaky exhale when she traces the sensitive seam where his horns meet his skin, then all the way up to press her finger against the point of one of them. Bringing her touch back down, she outlines his pointed ear, and then follows his jawline all the way down to his chin, which she then grips gently to tilt his head to the side, exposing more of his neck to her. 

Without pulling away from him, she scoots down where she straddles his waist, settling on his hips as she brings her face to his neck. Anzurin braces himself, preparing for the sting of her vicious bite. He gave her permission earlier to bite as hard as she wants to, and he expects her to take full advantage of that. 

Again, though, she surprises him, and she doesn’t immediately go for the bite. Her nose grazes his skin first, drawing a line up from his collarbone to jawline, lips following after. “Maggie,” he murmurs when she begins to kiss his neck, rather than biting. That is certainly not a good idea. “Feed, if you’re going to.” 

She only shushes him and continues to kiss, her tongue joining the mix every once in a while, and he knows it’s not a good idea at all, but he doesn’t stop her. He doesn’t want to. The weight of her settled on his hips and chest feels better than it should, and the sweet caress of her lips against his skin is too delicious to deny. 

Even more so as she digs her fangs into his neck, teasing but not yet piercing him. “Are you sorry?” she asks in a whisper, and Anzurin barely manages a breathy ‘yes’ whispered into the air. He is sorry, and he’d answer the same even if she wasn’t perched on top of him.

Anzurin wants her to bite him. Right now, he wants it perhaps more than he’s ever wanted anything before. His thoughts have been on the bite they shared after he woke up, craving it ever since, and his pulse thrums excitedly in his ears as her fangs scratch his skin, soothed by her lips. 

Then, gently, just as he taught her, she bites him. His breath catches at the flash of pain as her fangs sink into him. Her tongue presses flat against the vein she surely nicked, massaging his blood out without removing her fangs. She digs in a little deeper, all of her teeth pressing into his skin, holding there for just a few seconds before she loosens. 

Anzurin could just lose himself here in the blissful pain of Magdalena’s bite. 

He’s fed many before, fledglings and vampires both, but it’s never quite been like this. They’ve never been like her. Her bite alone is unlike anyone else’s. So sharp, so much anger behind it, but still somehow caressing, delicate. Needy. The hunger in every bite is a hunger separate from her bloodthirst. A taste for flesh between her teeth, one he’s too willing to feed. 

But she’s also unlike anyone else he’s ever met. Of course, he’s never known a fledgling to be tortured and have their mind erased before being dumped at a coven. Watching her start to find pieces of herself over the past few days has been admirable to see. What types of things make her smile, like the tap of her bare feet on the floor, or what kind of things anger her, like devilspawn with black eyes. Devilspawn that might have tortured her. 

Anzurin can feel her rough scars under his touch as his hands trail up her thighs, slipping under the hem of her pretty blue dress. Giving her time to stop him if she wants to, Anzurin ventures higher, wrapping his large hands around her thighs, and his tail moves to snake along her calf. She doesn’t try to kick or stomp on it this time as it wraps around her leg. 

Maggie hums happily as she drinks from him, nuzzling closer. She presses her face so desperately to his neck, and her fingers dance down his chest, marking an invisible path down to the bottom of his shirt, dipping under it to drag her fingernails lightly, painlessly across his stomach. 

Drinking from the neck is already such an intimate thing, and Anzurin so rarely allows it to happen. Only in a handful of cases in his many years as a coven leader, often in extreme cases where a vampire needed a steady flow of fresh blood immediately, in life or death situations. With Maggie, it’s pure pleasure. Simply because she asked for it, because she was so irresistible when she begged him with wide eyes the first time. 

And once he let her bite his neck the first time, it was over. That was all he needed, all she needed, to turn it into something more than feeding, something that feels good for both of them. They toed the line of mentor and fledgling earlier, but this… this crosses it, and he’s not going to be able to walk away this time. 

An involuntary sigh falls from his lips when Maggie finally takes her fangs out of him, and his head swims as she closes her lips around the wound, drinking freely from the unobstructed flow. Her grip on him tightens, nails digging deliciously into his sides, and she presses closer, tighter against him, her whines and moans echoing through his blood, singing a melody that only he can hear. 

Keeping one hand on her thigh, he twists the other into her hair, not to yank like she might fear, but only to hold her closer, to keep her mouth against his neck. He doesn’t want to hurt her. Never again. Not physically or mentally or any other way. The fury in her face was enough to deter him from that, and he’s lucky that he was able to catch up to her and bring her back inside before she was gone for good. 

He’s lucky that she’s here. On top of him, hands on his bare skin and her mouth on his neck. He’s in bliss and could lie here all day. 

What he can’t do, though, is give her every drop of his blood, and she’s already taken so much from him. 

“Alright, Maggie,” he coos, tapping her thigh. “That’s enough for now. I can’t give you much more.” 

Maggie doesn’t stop. She tightens her knees around his waist, and moves her hands to tangle into his hair, tracing his face and jawline, and he could melt under her touch. 

But she has to stop drinking from him.

He says her name again, hand fisting into her hair. 

Maggie growls, and too effortlessly, she grabs his hand and yanks it out of her hair to slam it against the mattress, and it’s then that the gravity of the situation begins to set in for Anzurin. He’s let her go too far already. He’s weakened, unable to shove her off like he should. She pins his arm too easily and shifts from straddling him to pressing her knee into his stomach. 

Fear pricks at his skin as he pleads with her, begging her to stop, but she doesn’t. Not until Anzurin feels like he’s hardly holding onto consciousness, teetering on the edge. Then, finally, she pulls back and drags the back of her hand across her mouth as she heaves a sigh. 

Anzurin is putty in her hands as she dips her thumb into his mouth, just as she did before, and wipes it on his neck, which tingles as the holes heal up. What is she doing? What’s the point in healing him after putting him on the brink of death?

His confusion only deepens when she leans back down and presses her lips to his sweetly. Even as close as he is to the brink, as frightened as he is that she’s just going to kill him, Anzurin puts energy into pursing his lips to kiss her back. The taste of his blood on her lips isn’t one he can ignore, and despite it all, he basks in the gentle warmth of her kiss. 

She caresses his face just as she did before, ghosting over the angles of his jaw and cheeks and brows. “I’ll send someone for you on my way out.” She kisses him once more and tears shine in her eyes when she pulls back. “And I’m sorry, too, Anzurin.” 

Anzurin wants to rage – not at her, but at the fact that he can’t get up and chase after her when she leaves the room. That he can’t beg her not to go. That all he can do is succumb to the dark haze that overtakes him.

~~~

Anzurin sits at his desk, his gaze bouncing around, seeing her everywhere. On the floor by the door where she laid when Velur brought her in. The sofa where she first fed from him, where he first yanked her hair and pissed her off, where she first bit his neck and gave him a taste of what could be. His desk where she perched as they looked through pictures of her life. 

Brem stands to the left, leaning back against the wall with his broad arms crossed over his chest. He’s already berated Anzurin for letting his guard down, for letting Magdalena get so close to killing him. 

There is a bit of shame sludging its way through his stomach, but not much. He doesn’t regret letting her do what she did. He just regrets that she left. She made it out of the coven, made it too far to be found by the time anyone was able to get out and look for her. Anzurin himself took to the forests around the coven, able to track her scent down the road leading towards town, but lost her somewhere along the way, and was forced to return to the coven with his metaphorical and literal tail between his legs. 

It’s been a day now, and he fears the worst. The sun has made a lap around the sky and he dreads to think that she’s already burned to a crisp under it. Only a fledgling out on her own, what if a vampire has decided to take her in? What if the people that hurt her have found her and taken her back? A lot can happen in a day, and all Anzurin has been able to do is think about the ‘what ifs’. 

When he’s not distracted by his thoughts of Magdalena and her fate, he’s looking into her past life, trying to figure out where she might go. His first point of order was to send Griffin to Velur’s to keep an eye out for her, as he doesn’t trust Velur not to kill Magdalena if she were to go there. Two other spawn were sent to search for Spencer Nevins, the human ex-boyfriend that she insisted has black, devilspawn eyes. 

As for Anzurin himself, he’s compiling a list of addresses: her home, her parents’ home, her place of work, her friends’ residences. Anywhere she might go, he’s going to check. Temporarily leaving his coven in Isaiah’s capable hands, Anzurin plans to take Brem with him to search for Magdalena, an idea that Brem is very much against and he isn’t afraid to voice it. 

Even when Anzurin keeps telling him to shut his mouth. 

And Anzurin is close to losing his temper when Brem stupidly says, “Velur was probably right, you know. She’s not worth the trouble she’s caused.” 

He glares at Brem, hating that he’d even suggest such a thing, that he thinks that way. Killing Magdalena is not the answer to dealing with her, and it never will be. Even when he finds her - because he will - he has no intention to punish her in any way for what she did to him. He understands. 

He hurt her, and he wasn’t going to just let her walk away from the coven; she knew that, so she did what she had to to leave. She didn’t kill him when she could have. She could have just drained him and left him there to rot until his body was found, but she stopped before she killed him, and then as she left, she told the door guard to check on him. 

Maggie could have killed him, but she chose to let him live. Maybe it was her way of returning the favor since he refused to kill her, or maybe she just really didn't want him dead despite threatening it. It doesn’t matter, either way. She spared him. She saved him. He’s only still breathing because she allowed it. 

Never before has Anzurin been at someone’s mercy like that. He’s always been the stronger one, the one in charge, the leader. No one else has ever held his life in their hands like she has, and truthfully, knowing it’s a horrible judgment call on his part, he’d trust her with it again. 

For someone with as much hatred for devilspawn as she has, for a creature so vicious and bloodthirsty, it means a lot that she spared his life. It gives him a glimmer of hope for her, that she’s not the lost cause everyone else seems to think she is. 

Brem didn’t see how gentle she was with him, how she caressed him so lovingly and made sure that she didn’t hurt him. He didn’t see her eyes when she apologized. All Brem knows is the violent fledgling; he doesn’t see her potential for vulnerability. Intimacy. 

Anzurin has to find her. He has to get her back. 

He folds up the list of addresses and grabs the photo of her, the one of her in the sun that she’d drawn fangs onto, and tucks it all safely into his pocket as he stands from his seat. “We’re going, Brem. We’re finding her.” He walks right up to Brem to tower over him and point a finger in his face, “And we bring her back unharmed. Understood?” 

Brem nods, a bit reluctant it seems, but if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll listen. 

~~~

this chapter is one of if not my favorite chapter of the first book, so I hope you enjoyed it!! (you should let me know if you did :D)

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[larkreadsop]

Sanji and Robin are the only ones to figure it out immediately and Sanji even notices the wings within about .02 seconds

[ckret2]

Chapter 51 of human Bill Cipher is once more the Mystery Shack's prisoner: Dipper and Mabel try to figure out what the Axolotl's poem means; Dipper gets the hang of astral projection; and... whatever's going on up there happens.

####

Ford and Dipper came back into the shack through the gift shop; Ford didn't want to risk crossing paths with Bill. While Dipper went into the house, Ford went down—returning to the safety of his subterranean study.

Once Ford had put on the old black trench coat he'd worn during his multiversal travels and gotten comfortable at his desk, he pulled out Journal 5 to document the events of the last few days. In a cheap ballpoint pen, he wrote, I've lost my #1 Grunkle pen (and favorite coat) to the waters of Lake Gravity Falls. And then, deciding this didn't adequately express his feelings, he drew a small frown. That coat had served him well for decades, and he'd really liked that pen. It did write excellently, and it had reminded him of his gniece and gnephew.

He spent three pages documenting the eclipse—what happened, what readings he'd taken, what he and Dipper observed—and then another four pages talking about Bill. What he'd told them, why Ford had dismissed it; his claims about a trans-dimensional axolotl distorting gravity with its migration; the statue, the rescue, the breakdown.

The act of writing always helped Ford clarify his thoughts and untangle mysteries; it wasn't until he was writing that he realized the limbs Bill had said he couldn't feel were the ones that had broken off the statue.

He listed the rules of the chess variants he could remember Bill inventing. He drew Bill huddled in front of the board, grim, tear-streaked, exhausted; and then scratched out his face, embarrassed at the thought of immortalizing such a raw moment for his private viewing.

He wrote, There's still a slim possibility that the entire "eclipse," start to finish, was Bill's masterfully-orchestrated scheme to make us pity and trust him; but it's unlikely. Although Bill is fiendish enough, he isn't currently powerful enough, and his lies certainly aren't elaborate enough. If he could pull off such a byzantine ruse, then he could just as easily escape—and if he can escape, why hasn't he? Bill may be insane, but he's never been THAT irrational.

And so, even as twisted as Bill's idea of "friendship" is... for the very first time, I'm convinced that he was telling the truth all along when he said he wants me as his friend. It's not an act. He risked his life to save someone who's an active threat to him.

And at the end of it all—though I'm grateful to be alive in spite of my own stubbornness—do I like him any better for it?

Ford leaned back and shut his eyes, sifting through the inner tumult of anger and old hurt that defined most of his memories of Bill, looking to see if anything had changed.

There was a sore, tender spot in his emotions, a place beginning to rot with remorse; when he prodded at those emotions, he found that it was shame over his own harsh conduct of the last couple of days. But he was only ashamed of how cruelly he'd acted; he wasn't ashamed that Bill was the one he'd done it to.

Outside of that tender spot—regret over his own behavior—nothing else had changed.

No. I still hate him. I'm grateful to be alive, but I hate him. He hasn't undone anything he did to my family and me, and he never will. Forgiveness can't be purchased with favors.

I'm only relieved at the certainty of it. Bill has committed an act that can't possibly be a lie. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's shown me the truth; and the truth is he'd rather see me alive than dead. Whatever other lies he may tell, I can hold on to that fact.

Bill's miserable eyes peered out at Ford between the scribbles he'd drawn across his face. It was truly a pity that Ford had to hate him. Pity that Bill hadn't been somebody better. He could have been better.

Ford couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed that he'd filled four pages talking about the monster he'd already wasted so many more on. Bill had been right about him: You might hate me to my face, but behind my back you're as obsessed with me as ever. The only thing Bill didn't understand was that hatred and obsession weren't mutually incompatible.

####

"Hey, Dipper," Mabel said, unfolding the living room sofa bed. 

"Hey, Mabel," Dipper said, passing through living room on his way to the stairs. He climbed up to the attic.

He came back down from the attic. "Mabel. Why's Bill asleep in your bed."

"He really needed a nap," Mabel said.

"Okay but why on your bed?"

Mabel pouted. "Dipper, do you realize he's never slept on a real bed? Ever?"

Dipper tried to imagine sleeping on a couple couch cushions on the floor every night. "Yeah, okay, that does kinda suck." Even if it was Bill's own fault he wouldn't sleep in the living room.

By unspoken mutual agreement, having a Bill in the bedroom followed the same law as finding a centipede in the bathroom. The law was "that's the centipede's bathroom now." So once the folding bed was set up, they sat on it to serve as their hang-out spot for the evening and caught each other up on what they'd done the last couple of days.

After Dipper & Co. had left, Grenda had come over to take advantage of the low gravity to retrieve the kite that had been stuck in a tree near the Mystery Shack since last summer (it was, tragically, too tattered to salvage), and then they'd gone over to Candy's house to photograph each other performing feats of impossible strength. (Mabel would be sending some pictures to their parents to confuse them, and adding the rest to her summer scrapbook.) She'd spent the next day breaking the trampoline world record until Soos came outside and said gravity was probably too low for it to be safe to be up in the air anymore, if Bill's warnings about being off the ground when gravity hit zero were true; at which point Mabel had hung around inside air-swimming until she suddenly slammed against the ceiling, and then the ground. She was fine. She just had a couple of bruises. She showed Dipper her bruises.

In return, Dipper told Mabel about how their quest had gone: the checks for micro-rips, Bill's increasingly frantic warnings, the lake—

("You got to see a bajillion magical axolotls and I didn't?!")

—the cliff, the Axolotl, Dipper's near-death experience, and what he now knew about his out-of-body dreams.

"Seriously?" Mabel hissed, eyes bugging out. "And he had us looking up lucid dreaming books! What a jerk!"

"I know! He could have just ignored the whole thing, we didn't even think it was anything but dreams."

"And I'd thought he was being so helpful, too! Like he was really trying to make up for giving you 'nightmares'!" Mabel laughed in disbelief and flopped down on the flimsy mattress. "All that because he just didn't want us to know how it was really his fault? Biiill, ugh."

His fault. Dipper hesitated, wondering whether he should tell Mabel what Bill had said about Mabel's Fault; then decided against it. Bill had probably been telling the truth when he'd said he only wanted all the credit for Weirdmageddon.

But—Dipper did tell her about Bill saving their lives. He would have felt like a liar if he hadn't—like he was trying to trick his sister into thinking Bill was worse than he already was. He hoped Ford wouldn't mind; but how could he not tell Mabel?

"He could have just let you die and didn't?" Mabel turned that over in her head, processing this sudden shift in Bill's behavior. "Wow. I'm impressed."

He also told her about their previous encounter with the Axolotl. Considering the other lies Bill had told recently, anything he said about them meeting the Axolotl was dubious at best; but Dipper could remember the Axolotl, so maybe some of it was true, even if Bill had twisted as much as he could. ("The Axolotl said hi, by the way." "Aww. Tell him hi back!" "Yeah, I... don't know how to do that.")

Dipper laid out his journal between them on the folding bed, and Mabel read over the couplet a few times. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches from within birch trees'..."

"It's got to be talking about Bill," Dipper said. "Equilateral triangles have three sixty-degree angles. I just don't know why the Axolotl wanted to talk to us about him."

Mabel frowned at the lines. "I think... I remember meeting him too," she said.

"You do?"

"Kinda. Like in a dream," she said. "We were in some kind of futury space race car. And he had a really comfortable beanbag chair."

"Yes! I remembered the beanbag chair, too!" And he hadn't mentioned it in his journal. "This is great! Talking about it must... must cause us to remember, somehow. Maybe since the universe where we met the Axolotl doesn't exist anymore, our memories of it are... detached or something? Psychically floating around between dimensions until we try to remember them?" He took in Mabel's skeptical frown and shrugged. "I don't know!"

She scrunched up her face. "Ugh. Last summer's first-grader time travel was complicated enough. This is like college-level time travel. Maybe we can ask Bill how it works?"

She said it so easily, like she thought it was actually a good idea. Right after she'd heard about the lucid dreaming thing, too. "I don't think he'd help." Dipper lowered his voice. "He really didn't want Grunkle Ford and me to find out about the Axolotl—and he kept telling me not to think about what the Axolotl told me. He's trying to cover something up."

"Oo-oo-ooh." Voice dropped to a whisper, Mabel said, "Do you think it's some kind of Space Axolotl conspiracy?"

"It could be," Dipper said. "All I know is he was trying to tell us something important about Bill. Some kind of prophecy, or... maybe a warning...?"

He trailed off. Mabel had stopped listening to Dipper. She was rereading the couplet Dipper had written, moving her lips like she was murmuring under her breath—but whatever she was saying, it was much longer than the couplet Dipper had written down. Distractedly, she said, "Do you have a pen?"

"Yeah, here." Dipper quickly handed over the pen he kept in his vest.

Mabel clicked it, went to the bottom of the page, and wrote: A different form, a different time.

Dipper sucked in a sharp breath as the words snapped into place in his mind. "That's it! That was the last line! What else do you remember?"

"That's it," Mabel said. "It was free form poetry with a bunch of rhyme pairs."

"I don't think free form poetry rhymes."

"Pbbbt." Mabel blew a raspberry and shoved Dipper's face. "Whatever! You know what I mean." She pointed at the last line. "Do you think the poem's about why Bill's here? He time traveled to the Mystery Shack in a new body..."

"Exactly! Bill must be back here for a reason. He's got all those powers—or, used to, anyway—and he knows more about the multiverse than anybody on Earth... Maybe there's some kind of big threat coming, and Bill's the only one who can stop it, and—and the Axolotl wanted us to know...?"

"I like the sound of that," Mabel said. "That'd basically make him a hero, right?"

Dipper grimaced. "I mean. I guess? But we're talking about Bill. If he does help us stop a threat, it'd be like if a serial killer picked up a hitchhiker and killed him, and then it turned out the hitchhiker was an even worse serial killer."

"That still sounds kinda heroic to me."

"Pfff, okay." He looked at his journal. "But... what is he here to do?"

Mabel considered what they'd already written. "Maybe we can use him to spy on our enemies through birch trees!"

"Thaaat's probably not it."

"No, I think I'm on to something. I can feel it."

There was a lot of empty space between his couplet and Mabel's line. "There's more we're missing, though. Maybe the rest of the poem describes the threat? Or what we need to get Bill to do?"

"I can't remember anything else, though."

"Me neither."

They stared at the page together, waiting for something to come to their blank minds. Mabel looked at the fish tank. "Hey, Primrose! Do you know anything?"

The pet axolotl in the tank ignored her serenely.

Dipper said, "'Primrose'?"

"Yeah, last summer Grunkle Stan said her name is Freakface, but I thought she deserved a cuter name. She's primrose color!"

"Ford says he originally named him Nikola."

Mabel gasped. "Nikki..."

Dipper twisted around to look at the axolotl. "Do you know anything? Do you... get messages from the Axolotl's heralds, or anything...?"

Nikola slowly opened his mouth, and slowly closed it.

Mabel said, "Hey. The Axolotl's one of those dimension-crossy time-travely guys, right? He probably wouldn't have given us a prophecy in the wrong timeline and then made us forget it unless he knew we'd remember it in time in the rightdimension!"

"I guess," Dipper said uncertainly.

"So we don't need to worry about it! We'll remember it when we need to."

"Unless this timeline's going to branch, and the only one where we survive is the one where we put all our effort into trying to remembering—"

"Shhh!" Mabel put a finger over Dipper's mouth. "Uh-uh. No college time travel. We'll be fine!"

Dipper pushed her over. "Okay, but we should at least try a little to remember what the Axolotl told us."

"What if we work on it separately?" Mabel propped herself up on an elbow. "Instead of just sitting around thinking about it. And whenever we remember a line, we can tell each other and see if it makes anything click."

"That might be faster," Dipper said, stroking his chin. "We're already remembering different lines."

"Yeah! And that lucid dreaming book said something about focusing on a problem before you sleep so you can figure it out in your dreams! We can just work on it in our sleep and we'll remember it all in no time!"

Dipper laughed. "What? No way, I think lucid dreaming is just one of those made up pop psychology things. I didn't get it to work at all." Either it didn't work or Bill had deliberately recommended a terrible book.

"I did! I can remember like... eighty percent more dreams. And I can tell when I'm dreaming a lot more often!"

"Huh." Or, maybe Dipper just wasn't doing it right. "Maybe I need to start over from step one. Do you know where the book we were using went?"

"Over here!" Mabel had set a couple library books on the end table next to the sofa bed; she pulled out the second one, which had a glittery pink bookmark with a cat on it stuck two-thirds of the way through. "Just don't lose my bookmark."

"Thanks." He'd reread the first step before bed. "We should probably be getting ready for bed anyway, huh?"

"Seriously?! It's barely bedtime!" And when the adults weren't watching, official bedtime was an hour and a half before Actual Bedtime.

"I'm exhausted. I just hiked up and down a mountain and faced down death."

Mabel pointed at Nikola. "You faced down a big salamander."

"Close enough."

They went upstairs, brushed their teeth, went to their bedroom...

And stopped in the door. Bill was still asleep. "Oh. Right," Dipper said.

He was curled into a ball on his left side, facing the wall, covered with only the zodiac blanket and his borrowed/stolen top hat sitting on the side of his head. He didn't use a pillow; he'd pushed Mabel's pillows and dolls behind himself to form a squishy makeshift fortress.

"Please don't wake him up," Mabel whispered. (She'd already set up the folding bed for herself; she'd clearly planned on this.) "He's had a really really hard time the last couple of days, and I think he needs as much sleep in a real bed as he can get, and it's just for one night, and I'm sure he'd rather sleep than do anything evil—"

"He said something, didn't he?"

Mabel paused. "Yeah. I think seeing his body really messed him up."

Dipper sighed. "We were trying to keep him away from it." He didn't want Mabel to think they'd forced him to stare his own death in the face. "But he did that... eye thing and looked through the trees, and..."

Mabel nodded.

Well. Dipper couldn't kick him out now. For Mabel's sake.

As children, occasionally when they got hotel rooms with a bed too few, their parents would stick them in one bed with a barrier of pillows in between them. At age thirteen and without two crabby parents trying to get them to just go to bed after a long plane flight, they unanimously vetoed that plan. Dipper decided against asking Stan if he could sleep in Ford's unoccupied bed, both because he suspected Stan would just go upstairs and drag Bill out of the room and because he didn't want Stan to think he was scared of Bill. He wasn't scared of Bill. Not anymore. He could handle one measly night in the same room as him. Anyway, somebody had to make sure he wasn't unsupervised in their bedroom all night, right?

Dipper and Mabel quietly set a floor mirror and old lamp next to Mabel's bed, draped a sheet between them, taped on a pink poster that said "WARNING! TRIANGLE ZONE!" and was covered in stickers of triangular objects, and decided Dipper was adequately shielded. If Bill did get up during the night, he'd probably trip through the sheet and wake half the house before he got anywhere near Dipper.

Dipper went to sleep with a baseball bat in his hands.

####

"Okay," Bill said, hands on his sides, "what am I looking at here?"

The feral band members of Sev'ral Timez turned toward Bill, eyes reflecting in the dim light. They were squatting around Bill's petrified corpse like a pack of apes examining a sleek black monolith.

"Hey girl," Creggy G. said.

"Hey," Bill said. He looked down at himself. His onyx black feet hovered over the ground and the yellow glow from his exoskeleton illuminated the clearing. "Lemme cut to the chase, is this gonna turn into a raunchy dream? My corporeal love life is about as cold and dry as Antarctica, I keep hoping one of my dreams will get a little hotter and wetter—"

"Nah, G," Deep Chris said. "Mr. Bratsman got us fixed."

"Aw."

"We're here to pay you reverence for freeing our minds from the chains of the conventional," Greggy C said, gesturing to Bill's corpse. Leggy P was kneeling and bowing to it and Chubby Z was posing for it. "We want to help free you like you tried to help free humanity."

Bill's eye narrowed. He tapped a finger against the edge of one brick as he considered this offer. Finally, skeptically, he said, "Fine. I'll bite. Why should I think you can help me?"

"Because we can give you the understanding your heart's been missing, girl. You're just like us," Chubby Z said. "A horror never meant to exist, born of a dream to construct the perfect golden idol, forced to dwell within an unnaturally-fabricated human shell."

Bill tilted his head thoughtfully. "I'm with you so far."

"We want you to join us," Deep Chris said. "Cavort with us in the silvan night, G. Shun the harsh light of the spotlight for the healing salve of moonbeams. We'll get drunk on the sweet fermented summer berries, uncaring of how the brambles prick our flesh. We'll dance in a frenzy of ecstasy and only sleep when the morning sun lifts the dew from the flowers and the sweat from our skin. It'll be straight Dionysian, boo."

"We can kiss the hot trees," Creggy G said.

Bill grabbed his shoulder. "Oh, you're the human that keeps making out with birch trees! I knew your face was familiar!" He paused. "So... are there any eligible ones around here?"

"Sure, girl, just downstream."

"If I'd known, I would've polished myself first."

"Say you'll join us, Bill girl," Deep Chris said. The band crowded around Bill to either side, posing around him—the backup dancers for the star singer. "You'd be one of us."

"We're already exactly the same," Creggy G said, holding up a mirror so that it reflected his and Bill's faces beside each other. In Bill's human face were two empty white eyes with pinprick pupils and pale blue irises, exactly the same as the eyes of the Sev'ral Timez boys.

He sat up with a gasp, hands flying to his face. There were still green boughs at the edges of his dreaming vision, blending into the wooden boards of the Mystery Shack's attic. Before sleep had fully fled his mind, he seized up the zodiac blanket draped over his body and stared into his embroidered eye.

The eye stared back at him. Through it, he could see his horrified sleepy face, and his normal slitted yellow eyes. His connection to the blanket's eye disappeared as he finished waking up.

He heaved a sigh of relief and flopped back down. He'd been lucid, but he hadn't been in control of that dream. He still needed practice.

He rolled toward the light of the window, groped around beneath it until he found his journal, grabbed up his crayons, and flipped pages blearily until he found the first blank one. He started writing down his dream, pausing only briefly as he tried to figure out how to translate "Sev'ral Timez" before settling on a sufficiently goofy way to misspell "several times" in Plaintext.

He made it halfway down the page before he stopped. Hold on. This wasn't his beautiful journal. These were not his beautiful crayons. He checked the cover and grimaced in displeasure when he saw a pine tree rather than a hand. Dipper's journal. Bill ripped out the page, ate it, and set the journal and Mabel's crayons back on the table  under the bedroom window.

"What was that," Dipper asked, "some kind of Morse code?"

Bill yelped and twisted around. Dipper's soul was hovering above Mabel's headboard, watching over Bill's shoulder.

"Hey! Back, foul ghost!" Bill snatched up Mabel's pillow and swung it at Dipper.

"Ow—Hey! How did you hit me, I'm in the mindscape—"

"I said back!" Bill swung again, chasing Dipper off the bed. "Back into your fleshy tomb!" He climbed off the bed, stumbled into Dipper and Mabel's trap, tripped through the sheet and probably woke up half the house.

He yanked the sheet off and flung the pillow at Dipper by its corner. "Now get back in your body, go to sleep, and leave me alone."

"I don't know how to get back in it. I just wait until it happens by itself," Dipper said, floating irritably over his sleeping body, arms crossed. "Why do you think I just wander around every time I have this dream?" He paused. "Right—it's not a dream, is it."

Bill sighed heavily. "Try putting your body on like..." He almost said like an exoskeleton, remembered his audience, and amended himself: "Like it's clothing. I usually start with the hands. Just like putting on gloves!"

Dipper looked at the cold fingers wrapped tightly around the baseball bat. "How do I put hands on like gloves? There's no opening or—"

"Just try it, would you?" Bill sat tiredly on the edge of Mabel's bed.

Dipper shot him an irritated look, but pressed his ghostly hands against his fleshly ones, passing through the skin until one set of fingers rested inside the other. A fingertip twitched. 

Bill gestured with one hand, continue. "Now the sleeves."

"I know how to get dressed." Dipper laid down in his body, forearm into forearm, shoulder into shoulder—until he was wholly back inside. He sat up, awake. "Huh."

"There, see?" Bill said. "And if you want to take it back off, just do the same thing in reverse. Like degloving your body from your soul!"

"Did you have to phrase it like that?" Still, Dipper tried it, peeling out of his body from the fingertips up. He left his body sitting upright as he hovered over it.

Bill chuckled tiredly. "Lookit your face, staring at nothing. Stupid looking."

"Shut up." He slid back into his body, more quickly now that he knew what he was doing.

"Great," Bill said. "Now that you know how to get back in your body, never do that again." He flopped back onto Mabel's bed and rolled over to face the wall. "It's a pain in my base having you wander around all night."

"Then you should've thought of that before you ripped my soul out of my body," Dipper grumbled. "Can you reattach me to my body?"

"Sure, easy." He lifted a hand to point down at his regrettably human form. "Not like this, though. Wanna help reattach me to my body?"

"Never in a million years."

"Then come back in a million years. There's nothing I can do for you until then." Bill dragged Mabel's zodiac blanket back over himself. "So sorry. Go to sleep. Leave me alone."

Dipper bet Bill could do it and was only saying he couldn't to try to trick Dipper into helping him. But he lay back down—clutching his bat again—and shut his eyes.

After a moment, Bill asked, "Where's Mabel? Sleepover?"

"Sofa bed in the living room."

"Right."

And then there was silence.

Several minutes passed. Dipper nearly fell back asleep. He heard Bill climbing out of bed and creeping across the room; but the footsteps didn't approach Dipper's bed, so he didn't open his eyes.

A few minutes after that, Dipper heard him come back, walking more heavily. He cracked open an eye to see what Bill was up to.

He was carrying Mabel, who was still asleep; his arms were trembling from her weight, but even at that Dipper hadn't known Bill was that strong. With a quiet grunt, he set her on her bed, then haphazardly tossed her sheet and zodiac blanket over her. He picked up his top hat from the bed and put it on; and then he wandered off, footsteps quiet as a ghost, and Dipper heard the creak of the door as he left the bedroom.

That was a lot nicer than Dipper had expected from Bill. Maybe he did care about Mabel in his own way.

Mabel rolled over and latched on to one of her dolls. Dipper shut his eye and fell back asleep.

####

(My favorite part of writing this was Bill dreaming about Sev'ral Timez saying the most absurdly flowery things imaginable. Anyway, let me know what y'all think about this week's chapter! And reminder that I MIGHT skip next week or the week after because the next couple chapters need heavier editing than usual.)

[reallyromealone]

Title: oh hey a mate(s)

Chapter: one

Fandom: obey me

Pairing: demon brother's x male reader

Warnings: suggestive themes, readers got truama, internalized gender hatred, anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of being a breeding tool, self hate, reader doesn't really understand sex, sexual themes, omegaverse, male reader, mentions of mpreg

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

"HE STOLE THEM FROM ME!" (sisters name) Screeched out in a rage as she threw things around "they were supposed to be MY mates! And he stole them! That whore stole them!" She was hyperventilating at this point as her body shook, feeling robbed of her alphas.

Of her life, the thing she wanted more than anything.

"I know sweety but maybe we can set you up wit--"" I don't want someone else! I want the princes!"

And she was going to get them.

She swore it.

'fuck you (name)'

Holy shit this place was big.

God he felt under dressed, especially beside these alphas who were dressed so fancy and perfect.

The floors were marble and two grand staircases winded on each side and paintings that had to be centuries old hung on the walls "we will have one commissioned for you soon enough... Maybe one with us all" Belphegor yawned as he wandered the halls "for now, let's get you settled in" he said and looked to a nervous looking Leviathan who nodded.

(Name) Was nervous as he walked beside the demon who seemed to want to be anywhere but here "I-im sorry if I wasn't who you were expecting... I'll try and not step on your toes" (name) whispered, anxiously fiddling with his fingers and looked down "i-i dont-- fuck... I'm really nervous and anxious and just I don't really talk to omegas often so I'm just--" the demon seemed panicked and (name) felt relief flood through his veins as he pumped out calming pharamones for the Alpha "hey... I get it, if it's any consolation... I'm not great with people either-- hell I think this is the first time I ever left my families property!" He laughed a bit but Leviathan was shocked at his words "you never been into the capital or even your home town?" He asked genuinely and (name) shook his head "nah, my parents didn't trust me going out there-- you know how troublesome an Omega can be"

What the fuck? That's all Leviathan could think as he looked at the Omega worried "I- you're not troublesome?" He whispered and (name) just smiled "I try not to be" (name) giggled a bit as they continued to (name)s apartment, the Omega expecting a quaint bedroom but...

"I think we went to the wrong room.... This is awfully big" (name) said softly to the envy demon who looked confused "you like your apartment?" Asmodeus popped out from nowhere and pulled (name) close with a flirty grin "we had the butlers being your things in, don't worry we didn't let them unpack... Pharamones and all that ~" he pulled (name) into the apartment and (name) felt overwhelmed by all this "there's a nesting room there~ if you need help don't hesitate to ask"

"A-are you sure?"

"Sure of what?"

"That this is for me?"

"You are to be our mate, I personally wanted you with me but Luci wanted you to have your own space... Something about acclimating" his words teasing and (name) chuckled but cut short when his stomach growled and the two demons looked curious "oh yeah! Humans need to eat for survival!"

(Name) Felt embarrassed as he silently cursed his stomach for exposing him like this as the demons looked at one another in a silent conversation.

They were definitely having a sibling meeting later.

(Name) Dissociated during the rest of the evening, eventually ending back in the rooms he was given, the size of his old house if not a bit bigger...

Everything was pristine as he took out his belongings, his prized possessions and small hobbies to occupy him.

A few heirlooms and books and his childhood stuffed toy 'this will go in my nest' he thought as he looked at the nesting room doors, two ornate doors in a rose gold shade, the apartment all light colors unlike the rest of the palace.

It was a strange contrast, almost like they didn't know what to expect so they just made what they thought humans liked. It was funny really, demons trying to understand what humans wanted or needed as he was doing the same, wondering what these demons wanted or liked.

Getting up he went to the nesting room and was overwhelmed by the nesting supplies he was given, piles and piles of blankets and pillows and soft things, his purring could probably be heard from outside the apartment as he snuggled into them, a sense of safety he wasn't quite used to washing over him.

He was excited to make a large nest, spending half the night making it perfect for him to rest in and just not think about the fact he was to be mated on his next heat to seven strangers that were also fucking royalty! Well there goes not thinking about it because here he was!

Also his sister! Holy shit she was mad! And like at his wedding she will be there! Fuuck!

(Name) Was just sitting there head in hands as he processed the fact that within 24 hours he was now engaged and now in the public eye!

(Name) Curled up closer into his blankets and let out a shutter of a sigh, he wondered if he would be able to do the things he enjoyed before... Would he be allowed to garden? Would he have to dress more Omegan? Or would he be able to wear clothes that were comfortable?!

He needed to walk, movement to process this.

Getting up he walked out of his apartment and into the hall, dark and grand, ceilings at least 15 feet tall and paintings lined, some he recognized as the siblings and some unfamiliar as he walked around curiously.

Somehow he made it to the kitchen "I hope they don't mind..." (Name) Whispered as he sliced an apple, careful and gentle as his stomach growled a bit.

"Can I have some?" A voice startled him out of his thoughts causing him to slice his finger "shit!" The voice said and (name) looked to see Beelzebub who in turn looked a bit startled as he took (name)s bleeding finger and put it in his mouth, the Omega looking thoroughly concerned as Beelzebub sucked on the blood "I feel like this is incredibly unsanitary" (name) whispered worried and beez released his finger "demons saliva can heal amongst other things, depends on the demon really"

"Oh " (name) said dumbly as he looked at his wet but healed finger "what else does your saliva do?" He asked curiously and Beelzebub smiled at the others cute and curious expression "ah, well besides healing my saliva can work as an aphrodisiac if ingested!" (Name) Looked concerned and Beelzebub laughed "don't worry, it only works if I were to like make out with you or eat your ass!"

And now (name) was flustered as the gluttony demon kept laughing at his embarrassment "so why are you up so late?" Beelzebub asked after calming down and sealing some apple slices and cutting up some more, handing (name) an orange "just... It's stupid"

"Oh please!" Beelzebub pushed and (name) sighed "I'm just... I'm having trouble processing this stuff, it's stressful and like-- I never left my property let alone this! My sister wanted to be with you guys and she's already insufferable, this is just worse! I'm just paranoid that you guys are going to realize that like this was a mistake and reject me and like the fear of being an Omega in general! Will I be able to do the things i enjoyed before? Will I be a breeding tool?!" He was hyperventilating now as Beelzebub panicked "hey hey, calm down! It will be alright and-- no we aren't making you a breeding Omega.... shhh" beez tried to calm him as footsteps quickly made their way to the kitchen.

"What is happening?" Lucifer and the others seemed startled as the smell of distress was heavy in the kitchen "he's worried we will strip him of his rights and make him carry our young" Beelzebub explained as he lifted (name) into his arms and set him on the counter "were demons but we aren't monsters" Satan said disgusted and Asmodeus smiled "we would never do that unless it's what you're into~" he teased the Omega as they crowded him "I know it's an incredibly hard adjustment but know we mean well, it's literally impossible for us to not fall for each other" it's true soulmates would eventually fall for one another due to the bond "and we are sharing one mate so that means you have seven people to love you" mammon said in a rare moment of genuine care "what do you mean?"

"Oh yeah, he knows basically nothing about secondary gender or soulmates" Levi said softly and the demons looked horrified "well I know what we are doing tomorrow" Satan said simply and (name) looked ashamed and couldn't meet their eyes, feeling stupid for his lack of knowledge.

"Well his town is backwards" Belphegor yawned and wandered off back to bed now that the problem was solved "goodnight...."

(Name) Was led back to his room by Beelzebub and Asmodeus and looked confused when they put sweaters in his arms "the smell of your alphas will calm you~" Asmodeus said simply and the two wished him a good night.

And for once?

He sleped peacefully.

(Name) Spent the next few days learning about soulmates and secondary genders, the two interlocking "when your heat comes, it will be dangerous for you to not mate with your soulmate" (name) read the book in his off time, the book explaining how the bonding is key to not cause rejection symptoms or a drop, he definitely didn't want that. Fuck how does he have sex? Fuck.

Time to go figure that out, he really felt behind on this shit.

(Name) Made home in the library as he looked for any books that would aid him "Hmm? Looking for sex books ~ didn't know our omega was like that" Asmodeus seemed to love just appearing out of thin air and scaring (name) who dropped the book "i-i it's not like that!"

"Hmmm? And what is it about? Oh you're so cute when your flustered!" He cooed and (name) huffed "I am trying to figure out like, how sex works and stuff... I wasn't exactly taught... Just put on suppressants so my family could avoid it" he just constantly felt ashamed with them, their faces of realization and pity as (name) tried not to cry "well, if you like I could teach you~ don't worry I won't touch you where you don't like" Asmodeus could get used to his omega so flustered as he got closer, his alpha giddy at his mate being untouched "the first thing one should know is their body after all~"

"I- uh... I'm not sure..."

Asmodeus let his lips barely touch (name)s as he caged him against a bookshelf and smiled, his tail flickering and (name) seemed a bit startled by it All as the demon gently kissed him "that was... Uh.." "your first kiss?"

"Yeah..."

"Did you like it?"

(Name) Could only nod as the lust avatar giggled sweetly at his adorable Omega "oh, you're going to fit in nicely here~!" He doted on (name) a bit "don't worry darling, we won't do anything your not ready for but if you're willing... To experiment a bit, I'm always a summon away" and with that he was gone, (name) left with nothing more than the smell of his pharamones, sweet Jasmine and warm vanilla.

It wasn't till after lunch that Lucifer brought him to the gardens, a small greenhouse and a garden plot stood "we had it cleaned up, you said you liked gardening" he said simply and looked down at (name) who looked like he was given the potion of youth "really? Thank you so much..." (Name) Was releasing the happiest pharamones and Lucifer kept composure but god damn did that boost his ego as an alpha, making his mate happy.

"Just clean yourself off after you finish" Lucifer said calmly and (name) beamed at this "of course!"

(Name) Puttered in the greenhouse and began planting things, thankfully it was early in the season so he had time to make a nursery for plants "oh, sor--" (name) immediately shut up as he saw Belphegor sleeping in a sun beam, cozy and calm. Looking around (name) found his cape that Satan had made for him and covered the demon with it "it's still chilly" he whispered and went back to work, unaware the demon was awake and watching intently at the Omega who was carrying heavy pots and sacks of soil around.

(Name) Kept quiet for the Alpha, he must be so exhausted to fall asleep in a greenhouse of places so it would be best to let him rest! Eventually (name) moved outside, it was less chilly but a slight chill but movement will keep him warm! Using twine he found in the greenhouse he sectioned spots of the garden plots for various things like carrots and garlic amongst others, they were still in the nursery but it's good to get things ready now, he reasoned with himself.

"Your Highness! It's quite cold!" A servant panicked as she saw (name) in nothing more than a shirt and pants and apron, dirt on his cheek "don't worry! I'm alright!" He reasoned but she was not having it and removed her cape "it's not good for an Omega to be cold like this!"

Before she could drape the cape on (name), he felt fur on his shoulders as Mammon smiled with a warning "don't worry, he's warm" his eyes telling the servant to leave and (name) looked confused "oh hello!" (Name) Smiled at the demon who felt annoyed at how sweet the other was, his bond making his heart beat fast "Luci wanted me to take you into town so get ready" he grumbled and (name) nodded, a simple smile on his face as he wandered to the palace "where's your cape anyways?! It's freezing for mortals!" He chastised and (name) chirped "Belphegor was sleeping and I wanted him to be cozy!" (Name) Couldn't explain why he felt so calm and comfortable with the princes but they made him feel safe, even if they were sometimes like angry chihuahuas.

"You're weird" mammon said with no bite as they walked to (name)s area.

The tailors and seamstresses worked tirelessly to put together some clothes for (name) and his new class, the maids commenting about how the seamstress always kept embroidered sleeves on hand as the brothers always tore clothes during training--- well save for Asmodeus and Belphegor who couldn't be fucked to do stuff like that.

(Name) Felt regal, a beautiful vest made of silk and embroidered with birds and roses and a linen powers shirt and nice pants and expensive boots "you look wonderful your Highness!" A maid commented, (name) growing fond of his personal maids who cheered him in, them all being mated and married betas.

(Name) Was curious as he looked around the city, never really interacting with so many people who looked at he two in awe, the guards keeping a fair distance as he looked at stalls "you seriously never been in a city?" Mammon said incredulously and (name) looked confused "no? It's not right for an Omega to be by himself around alphas, I would be a temptation" reiterating his parents words and Mammon was horrified at the omegas genuine belief that HE was the problem and not alphas who couldn't keep their hands to themselves "well we are unpacking that later"

He didn't even want to get into the family thing, remembering the chat he had with his brothers when (name) had his meltdown and the acceptance that their Omega came from a very problematic living situation but he seemed to be acclimating well.

Or at least he hoped.

Mammon was confused as (name) handed him a stuffed bunny "what is this?" He raised an eyebrow from behind his circular sunglasses "well we didn't get to actually court because of being soulmates so I got you all courting gifts" he chirped out innocently, remembering what he was taught by Lucifer and deciding to put it in action though he seemed to have gotten it backwards as it was supposed to be the Alpha who gave the courting gifts.

"I- uh... Thank you?"

(Name) Seemed pleased as they continued their walk through the cities market, a giant hub of the equally giant city as Mammon stared at the bunny that was made of fabric the same color as his eyes, a small detail that made him flustered.

He noticed (name) budgeting, a soft smile on his face "you know we have basically endless money, right?" Well mammon didn't, he was cut off and put on a strict budget but (name)? He still had his money privileges "that's your money, this is so much!" To (name) it was a lot of money as he did the budgeting of the house back with his family, this was ten times of what they made in a year! "I am fine with this"

Hell, how did they get the exact opposite of them?!

A nervous Omega who was innocent and naive and sweet as honey!

"Oh you are absolutely precious!" Asmodeus cooed at the stuffed rabbit that fit in his hands "I hadn't even thought of courting!" He said with exaggerated sadness and (name) watched the others alphas reactions, though it wasn't the fanciest courting gift, it was a genuinely thoughtful one.

"He was worried about spending the money, he literally budgeted it" mammon groaned and Lucifer snorted "you could do well to learn that" he said as (name) seemed reminded and handed him back the coin bag, the Omega barely dented it "I got a few things for my hobbies but I brought back the change!" He said sweety and Lucifer had cute aggression at that moment as (name) looked at him with so much pride "you know you could have spent all of this right?" He said a little slow, (name) nodding "but that would be rude, I'm spending all your money without care... I don't like that"

Seriously, how did they manage to be fated with the sweetest Omega?!

"He didn't even but himself actual things for himself! He bought things to make us things!" Mammon groaned out but they all knew he equally swooned at the fact their Omega was so sweet.

But also he didn't buy himself anything, Asmodeus has had to bring him to eat and Beelzebub would put food on it.

"Rural Omega culture is different than cities, they're treated more as a commodity" a maid explained to Asmodeus one night as she helped him get ready for bed, she herself being an alpha from the boonies "an inconvenience would be a better word though, everything your saying shows he was treated like how my love got treated, need to make them feel genuinely valued" she went to explain how omegas need regular scenting and assurance to keep mentally regulated and (name) probably never had that.

Which would explain why he seemed like he was constantly waiting for the next shoe to drop despite growing used to them.

Like it was all going to go away.

His dreams were often that, every night he dreamt of waking up in his old room as his sister lived the life she wanted and he was stuck in that musty bedroom where he would rot.

"Your dreams are noisy" Belphegor mumbled as he crawled into bed with (name) and held him close, pumping out pharamones as he thought smugly about the fact he's technically been in bed with (name) before the others. (Name) Snuggled in his chest and physically relaxed, chirping in his sleep as he clung helplessly to him and he was hooked.

He wanted this more and was already annoyed he would have to share with his brothers.

(Name) Let his mates to be plan the wedding though he and Beelzebub thought of food together, the demon horrified at how little foods he got to experience and made him try everything for the wedding and smiled at his happy face with good food "these are mirangue cookies! Like eating plaster that loves you!" He exolained and (name) basically melted at now delicious it was.

Beelzebub was more than happy to share food with him, his alpha wanting the Omega to be well fed to carry his pups after all.

They were all anxious for mating, their bond slowly making them VERY intense about (name) who after weeks, finally sat close to Satan as he read with him though (name) did struggle a bit "omegas being taught to read is laughable, I taught myself as much as I could" he explained and that's when Satan decided he would read for (name), the two spending an hour or two in the library reading together like how Lucifer spent his time teaching (name) new things when he wasn't busy or just dragging him along with things.

(Name) Was always well behaved, he thought of (name)s family and how they were... How did this come out of THAT.

But now, (name) had one worry...

Would he invite his family to his wedding?

[woniehugs]

OPERATION: FUCK SIM JAEYUN.

CHAPTER 1

—✧ summary: as a student, you were a huge academic overachiever, always wanting to excel in class and get the highest grades. as a teenage girl, you wanted to get some hardcore action. academics were stressful, and you needed an outlet for that stress. besides, it’s your second to the last year in high school. what could possible go wrong if you deviated and have a little fun? you’ve had your eyes on one guy for a while now, sim jaeyun. the handsome guy, the star soccer player, good at physics. now, you had another goal aside from finishing the school year as the top student: fuck sim jaeyun. one day, you get partnered together for a project, and one thing led to another, you end up in his bed. this might just turn your life for the better… or the worst.

—✧ pairing: jake sim x fem! reader

—✧ genre: highschool! au, fluff, pining (mutual? you’ll see), friends with benefits, casual relationship, smut (in later parts)

—✧ word count: 4.4k

—✧ taglist: @youreverydayzebra @witheeseung @w3bqrl , @freakywonbin, @enhafika, @enhacolor, @woniebuns, @cyberstephzz, @sumzysworld, @woniefull, @aanniikkaa, @faithnsstuff, @wonnienyang, @wonlluvie, @slut4hee, @hwaluvrsblog, @jakeswifez, @dreamiestay, @jiryunie, @nikibleist, @friurt, @jungwonsstrawberriesnchocolate, @jakesimfromstatefarm, @my10monthslovesimjae, @heefever, @milanco, @khaisdrz . send an ask if you want to be added!

══════*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*══════

the clock seemed to tick so slowly, and all you wanted to do was rip your head off out of boredom. mrs. smith had been droning on and on about physics for half an hour now. you had been listening of course, but only for the first 30 minutes before your mind drifted away.

midterms were coming up. you couldn’t wait to get it over with, looking forward to the week-long break ahead. you were exhausted, or no, that didn’t seem like the right word. you just didn’t feel like following your usual routine anymore.

wake up. go to school. listen to discussions. write notes. study. go home. study again. finish writing notes. review them. sleep. and the cycle repeats.

life had always been like that for you for as long as you could remember, maybe even since you were born.

now, you were burned out. or maybe just bored. yep, that seemed like the right word for it. just straight-ass bored. you wanted to deviate from your daily routine. anything to keep your mind off of everything, especially academics.

you knew you were doing well. you barely had to worry. you were more-so worried about your nonexistent sex life. for the past few months, you’d been really craving for some action. not out of peer pressure of course. you weren’t so sure if it just had something to do with realizations of a teenage girl or if someone just accidentally poured a dose of viagra in your drink when you first went to a club all by yourself. tons of overthinking happening there. that was months ago, so there was no way the drug could’ve lasted that long.

you’re not so sure who you are anymore, to be honest.

nonetheless, the truth is that you were a horny teenage girl who craved some action. no one in your school could have ever guessed that since you’re the goodie two shoes who’s almost always the top of her class and puts on extra work to earn extra credits from teachers. that excited you in some way. no one else knew about that fact but you.

at last, the bell rang. mrs. smith ended the discussion right on time (you weren’t listening anymore. did she say anything about laws of conservation of energy?). standing up from your chair, you quickly packed your things and left the classroom, on your way to the the soccer field. your safe haven, you’d like to call it.

why there? well, because the cafeteria was too crowded for your liking. you were claustrophobic (you just hated everyone). you loved being alone anyway, and you’ve always went there to eat lunch because it was peaceful and windy outside, unlike the cramped canteen that smelled of sweat and food so disgusting you would not dare put in your mouth again.

passing by some of your favorite teachers, you greeted them with a smile on your face.

you never liked being known as the ‘teacher’s pet’, because it made you seem like you were only close with the teachers for extra credit, when in reality, you really were just a friendly person. people just liked to talk and all. at this point in your life, you really just didn’t care anymore and let them say whatever they wanted to say. as long as they aren’t going anywhere near you, you’re sure you’ll survive this school year (like previously) just fine.

once you arrived outside, you sat yourself on one of the bleachers, the middle part to be more precise. you quietly ate your lunch, looking out on the field. the only sound audible was the clanking sound of your utensils. it was mostly empty, except…

a familiar figure caught your eye in the middle of the field.

munching on your food, you squint your eyes to try to make out who it was. a part of you was a 100% sure it was one of the school’s soccer players since he wore a jersey with a number and his last name on it.

05 sim

oh. you knew exactly who that guy was.

sim jaeyun. everyone in school calls him jake. right, everyone knows him. you’d be surprised if there was someone who doesn’t unless they were a transferee. jake was one of the few guys high school girls disgustingly swooned over. apparently, he was everything a girl could ever want.

looks? check. intelligence? check. height? slightly. athletic? check. hot voice? double check. sex god? triple check. or so that’s what you heard from those giggling girls that hangout near your locker every after class.

you didn’t get the appeal at first, especially since you thought he was just a good old nice guy who happened to be one of those who accidentally became popular because his looks. based on rumors, it turned out you were completely wrong.

you hate to admit it but as time passed, you did eventually find him attractive (and still do). you could see why everyone liked him. now that you wished you could feel what it’s like to be well taken care of by a guy who could not only make everything in your life better but also fuck the living daylights out of you, you couldn’t help but imagine jake being that guy.

“oh what the fuck am i thinking.” you muttered out loud, shaking the thoughts out of your head. you couldn’t believe you were having those kinds of thoughts while eating lunch and staring hard at jake.

you gaslit yourself into thinking it was fine and totally normal since he was the only guy you found good looking in your school, and happened to be in your view. you could eat him up if you wanted to—

god not again.

mentally praying to god to forgive you for those intrusive unholy thoughts you were having, you shut your lunchbox shut and grabbed your things. trying (a bit too hard) not to drop them, you scurried off and out of the soccer field, hurrying back inside the school to pull yourself together.

because what kind of girl, especially who everyone thinks is “innocent”, thinks of having sex with a guy, who probably isn’t even aware of her existence, and way out of her league, while eating lunch? you were definitely going insane.

“i need therapy.” you whined quietly to yourself, clutching your things tighter to your chest.

you were completely oblivious to jake catching a glimpse of you ever since you walked into the field. it was definitely better that you didn’t know about that because god knows what worse things you would’ve thought if you knew and stared right back at him too.

• • •

you weren’t so sure if god was by your side or against you at this point. was he secretly listening to your secret unspoken prayers of having an opportunity to talk to the one guy you’ve been thinking about (unnecessarily too distracted. you only ever pass by him in the hallways) for weeks? or did he just want to see you suffer for having sinned and going against what you were supposed to believe in?

you aren’t a very religious person, but you sure are debating now if you should become one.

because sim jaeyun is sitting right next to you in class, looking a bit too good-looking with his stupid ruffled hair and plump lips, since when did he have such clear skin and luscious hair?

life was so unfair. unfairingly amazing. this is one of the few moments where you silently thanked god.

two weeks after midterms, classes officially started for the final term. you were more than prepared and a bit excited to receive your grades, knowing you did well in the exams. what you weren’t prepared for was how sim jaeyun entered your classroom, with his bag slung over his shoulders, your teacher introducing him to the class, and how he’ll be moving to this classroom due to his excellent grades and performance during the midterms.

what the fuck. that’s all you were thinking the whole time your adviser was talking, while jake stood beside her in front of the class with that ridiculously handsome grin on his face. you weren’t so sure what to feel. pissed? relieved? thank the heavens above that this god of a man can finally know about your existence?

you shake your head, realizing you’ve been staring too long at your new seatmate before you turned your attention back to the board and listen. this was it. maybe god really did answer your prayers and provided you with the opportunity to do whatever you wanted for the past couple months. on a silver platter. a full-course meal.

side-eyeing jake, he catches your stare and you immediately look to the front again. why’s he staring at me? is there something on my face? why’d he have to have that look? it’s so annoying. please look away. you mentally ranted, tapping one foot lazily against the ground.

the entire session, you didn’t try to look at him again after that. however, that didn’t mean you weren’t thinking about him the whole time.

• • •

��y/n.”

were you daydreaming again? why’s jake saying your name in the middle of biology? you really should’ve slept earlier last night. you quietly blame the caffeine that was slowly leaving your system for this hallucination.

“pst. y/n.”

you blinked twice, slowly turning your head to your seatmate. okay, so he was calling you. that was a first. and hopefully not the last.

jake leans towards you and you felt your heart lurch a bit in your chest. god, y/n, pull yourself together! this is the first time you’ve interacted. you better not mess this up.

“i just wanted to ask if you had an extra pen? mine just ran out of ink, and mr. lewis is about to move on to the next slide.”

blah blah blah, proper name place name, backstory stuff. that’s all you were hearing in your head.

his voice really did sound sexy with that australian accent laced in it.

nodding your head at him, you open your pencil case to lend him a pen you didn’t use yet. it was your favorite brand. you would never let anyone else use it. but if it’s jake? you can buy him all your favorite pens in the world if it meant hearing him ask from you every day.

“here you go. you can have it.” simp. that’s what you were, and nothing has even happened yet. you like to cling to that thin string of hope that maybe something could bloom from this small exchange.

jake gives you a smile, as he took the pen from you. you feel his hand linger against yours for a bit before he pulls away. “really? thanks. i appreciate it.” he goes back to writing his notes on his notebook, and you take notice of the way he bites his bottom lip in concentration and squinting his eyes to see the slides on the screen better.

as for you, you were still listening of course, but also thinking about how you’d never have to squint your eyes or try too hard to see how charming sim jaeyun really is.

although, maybe you could try a bit harder if you wanted to test his and your bed chemistry in the near future.

• • •

no. it’s final. you’re going to die a virgin.

the old you would’ve never saw this as something bad or sappy since you didn’t really give a shit about that type of stuff. well, time has passed, things have changed.

“what on earth is wrong with me?!” you grabbed your hair in frustration, throwing a little tantrum in your bedroom. you’ve just finished doing your homework for the day and some extra reading for your literature class.

a month has passed since you’ve started interacting with jake, and you’ve been putting meaning in every single interaction you’ve had which was not helping with your little crush on him.

”i’ve seen you around. i hear teachers talk about you in the faculty all of the time.” so you knew about my existence before we interacted? you definitely like me.

”careful, pretty. there’s some freshmen fooling around in the hallways.” he thinks i’m pretty? full-on delulu mode.

”mrs. smith was looking for you. something about you passing an extra page of solutions way beyond the lessons discussed.” or was he finding an excuse to talk to you? those solutions were done out of boredom anyway.

”you prefer listening, don’t you? or do you just not want to talk to me?” are you kidding? i do want to to talk to you. i just prefer listening to your australian accent. besides, i could do something better with this mouth of mine.

not that you’ll ever admit any of those things out loud.

“no. i do not have a crush on him. i’m just ovulating.” you convince yourself, pacing around your bedroom in small strides. you clearly weren’t convincing yourself very well either. who ovulates for months?

was it still even considered a crush when there isn’t even a time in the day where you don’t think about all the things you would let him do (god would be disappointed) if you just talked to him first? listening was not going to get you anywhere. he might not approach you anymore.

you did not want that to happen.

at the end of your pacing session, you stopped being in-denial and come into terms with your feelings. not only were you extremely attracted to jake, but you also wanted to get laid. who else to do the job for you other than the sim jaeyun who definitely looks like he’d do an amazing job?

that gave you a new goal for this school year.

you opened your notes app on your phone and typed it out.

GOALS FOR THE SCHOOL YEAR:

- finish the school year maintaining my rank as a top student.

- fuck sim jaeyun. (badly want to be done!!!)

• • •

the buzz of chatter filled the classroom as mrs. smith talked about having a demonstration project that showcased the principles of electromagnetism. the whole term will be given for everyone to work on the project and present it before the final term exams.

a classmate raised their hand, asking if it will be done individually since it sounded like a huge project to do alone. for you though, you wouldn’t mind if that was the case.

mrs. smith smiled sweetly, motioning for them to put their hand down. “that was the next thing i was going to say. the project will be done in pairs. before any of you ask, i’ll be the one to choose your pairs. i have a list right here.”

you bit your lip in anticipation, the groans and complaints of your classmates filled the room. a part of you was nervous about who your partner will be because it was highly likely that you’ll be doing the project all by yourself.

unless…

mrs. smith started naming the list of project partners and you feel your heartbeat start to speed up when you realize your name wasn’t called yet, and half the class already was.

you kept your gaze on the board, barely listening anymore until…

“and last but not the least, sim jaeyun and y/n l/n.”

your pulse quickened at the sound of jake’s name. whispers and mutters could be heard among your classmates the moment both of your names were called. “isn’t that cheating, ma’am? you’re pairing two of the best students together!” one of your classmates blurted out, earning a few laughters.

that was a compliment you could take.

“i promise you, macky dear, the pairs were chosen randomly.” mrs. smith replied, assuring the class that everything was fair and square, even though you were also debating in your head if it really was.

you peek a glance over at jake, just as he turned and caught your eye. he gave a small nod and a friendly smile, sending your thoughts into a spiral. a huge part of you was excited, but a small part also was making you feel nervous of spending time alone with him outside of school.

mrs. smith turned her wrist to look at her watch, “alright. i’ll give you the rest of the period to discuss with your pairs. go on, everyone. chop chop!” oh god, this is it. you thought, mentally preparing yourself for what you were going to say. you needed to take the lead or you were going to go insane.

a screech of the chair against the tiled floor snapped you out of your thoughts, eyes widening a bit when you realize jake had moved his chair closer to your desk. you keep yourself compose, clearing your throat and dusting off imaginary dust off your uniform.

“hey again.” jake greeted with a grin, pushing his hair back, “have any thoughts on what we could do for this project?”

darn that gorgeous hair. “hey to you too.” a hint of a smile tug on your lips, mentally giving yourself a pat in the back for staying composed. “well, i was thinking we could build a model on electromagnetic induction. per se a simple generator that shows how changing magnetic fields can produce electricity.”

jake nodded thoughtfully, resting his chin on his hand. “i like it. we could even add a small light bulb to show when it’s working. as for materials, we’d need some copper wire, magnets, and maybe a hand crank.”

you blinked twice in amazement, finding yourself drawn in by the way he explained things. jake’s voice was steady and confident, and you couldn’t help but notice the easy charm in the way he carried himself, how his eyes seemed to sparkle when he talked about physics.

“i can get the copper wire and magnets. i know a shop downtown that has them.”

“perfect.” jake replied, his lips curling into a half-smile that made the room a little warmer (why were you sweating), and your thoughts wander to places you probably shouldn’t let them go.

“i’ve got some spare parts from my dad at home that we can use for the base and crank.” you wondered if his voice would sound different in a more private setting, if he’d be as confident about things that had nothing to do with physics.

okay there, y/n. hold your horses.

nodding away your intrusive thoughts, you force yourself to stay in topic and keep the conversation going. “so, when do you want to start? i’m free whenever.”

jake leaned back slightly against his seat, putting his hands behind his head. you clench your hands into fists about how incredibly hot you were feeling right now. why did him doing the barest of minimums make you feel like you were going to explode?

the thoughts. put them at the back of your mind. we’ll think about the way his biceps flexed against his uniform later. just not now of all times!

“hm, how about this weekend? we could work at my place.” you squeaked, grateful that jake didn’t seem to notice your reaction. “it’s quieter, and i’ve got a good setup and place for projects.”

“y-your place?” you repeated, mentally cursing yourself for stuttering. a mix of excitement and nerves running through your veins. this was totally it for you. “sure, that works for me. saturday afternoon?”

jake’s glance held yours for a moment longer before nodding, “yep. saturday’s good. can you give me your phone number? i’ll text you the address.” without a second thought, you gave him your phone number with ease. you were totally keeping things professional.

after he texts you the address, you changed his contact to his name. “i’ll be walking my dog before we get to work though. hope that’s fine with you.” jake mentions all of a sudden.

“no problem at all.” you assure him, having found a new interest at the mention of his dog. “what’s your dog’s name?”

“layla. she’s a border collie.” jake sits up from his chair, smiling even wider with the fact that you asked about his dog. “she’s a sweetheart, you’ll love her. you’ll see her this weekend, and don’t worry, she doesn’t bite.”

you let out a sarcastic scoff, “hardly doubt that. i have severe trust issues. the last time i tried petting someone else’s dog, i ended up with a huge bite on my wrist. definitely not something i would want to risk experiencing again.”

jake laughs, “really? that’s insane! i’ve never seen dogs that aggressive before.”

“when you meet a shih-tzu, you’ll understand.”

“trust me, layla’s really nice. she likes meeting new people and can get really clingy once she gets to know them.”

you smile, “we’ll see about that.”

with the project plans settled, there was a brief silence before you spoke up again, not wanting the conversation to end just yet. it was now or never.

“you’re pretty good at this kind of stuff. physics, I mean,” you started. “have you always been into it?”

jake shrugged, a hint of a grin on his lips. “i guess I’ve always liked figuring out how stuff work. always have, though most people just know me for soccer.”

that was true.

“soccer and science,” you teased lightly. “that’s a combination you don’t see every day.”

“yeah, well,” he said, leaning in slightly, “what about you? you’re always at the top of the class. do you ever get tired of being the overachiever?”

you laughed, a little caught off guard by the question, but you’re glad he seems to want to keep the conversation going too. “i guess,” you shrugged, “i’m used to aiming for the top in everything. but honestly, i’m kind of hoping for a little more excitement this year.”

jake’s gaze lingered on you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he could tell that there was more to your words than you were letting on. that was something you’ll never know for now.

you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear (not on purpose ofc), growing shy under his gaze and looking anywhere else but his face. “so, besides physics and soccer, is there anything else you’re secretly amazing at?” you asked with a playful grin.

jake raised an eyebrow, a spark of humor in his eyes. “well, if I tell you, then it won’t be a secret, will it?” he smirked before adding, “but, fine… i make a mean instant ramen. like, gourmet-level stuff. think: chopped scallions, the works. not to brag or anything, but i can easily add a soft-boiled egg without breaking it.”

you try to hold in your laughter at jake’s randomness but failed miserably. “how fancy. i guess that means you’re ready to survive college. instant ramen mastery is a pretty big deal.”

he chuckled, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “yeah, i’m prepared for all those ‘late-night study sessions,’ if you know what I mean.” his tone carried a hint of innuendo, just enough to send a jolt of heat to your cheeks.

guess those rumors of him being a natural flirt were true after all.

you tried to keep your composure, fiddling with your pen to distract yourself, and dropped it on your desk. “late-night study sessions, huh?” you shot back, trying to match his teasing tone. “i hope you’re as good at cramming… as you are at cooking.”

jake blinked, momentarily taken aback by your response before breaking into a laugh. “touché,” he said, his grin widening as he looked at you. “you know, you’re cute when you get all bold like that.”

there he goes again. the way he said it, like he was genuinely amused and maybe a little impressed, made your pulse quicken once again. there was something thrilling about the way he could fluster you so effortlessly, and the fact that you’d managed to catch him off guard, even for a moment, made it all the more fun.

gosh, you could hardly believe yourself right now. you let out a laugh, shrugging it off.

“don’t worry, y/n. I’ll keep my late-night ramen skills to myself… for now.”

you giggled, shaking your head. “deal. but if you really want to impress me, you’ll have to show off those ramen skills eventually.”

jake bit his bottom lip and chuckled. you could see a glint of playfulness still in his eyes, “we’ll see,” he said softly. it was a shock you haven’t said anything that would scare him away, thankfully.

WHAT THE HELL. STOP BITING YOUR LIP!

the playfulness in his eyes made it hard to look away, and for a moment, it felt like you were already friends. more than that, even (delulu). It was an easy kind of chemistry, one that made you wonder how many more conversations like this you’d have in the weeks to come.

ugh, i still got a long way to go, and you’re barely even getting there, y/n.

you cleared your throat, breaking the moment before it could get too intense. “well, i should probably start listing down other of the materials that we need,” you said, a hint of reluctance in your voice.

jake’s smile softened, and he gave a small nod. “right. we can’t slack off, can we?” he handed you your pen and notebook from your desk before you could. he steals a glance at you for a moment before dragging his chair back to its proper place. “i’ll see you saturday then. don’t be late, layla hates it when people keep her waiting.”

you laughed and waved him off. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

someone from the other side of the room calls jake, catching his attention. he nods at them, turning to you and nodding once. he stands up from his chair, giving you one last smile as he heads to their direction. you feel your cheeks heat up at his departure.

as soon as jake is out of your vision, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy, smiling to yourself. the rest of the class continued chatting on around you, but it all seemed muted compared to the pulse in your ears. if today was any indication, working with him was going to be… interesting, to say the least. you’re partnered with sim jaeyun for goodness sake.

as you jotted down the materials list, you couldn’t help but sneak another glance at him across the room. this was just the beginning. you had a lot more planned than just a physics project.

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©2024 ©woniehugs

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[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (3/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: fingering & oral sex, a kind of triangle, smut, the angst, description of the effects of murder, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, violence ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

"I am unable to control her. I can see in her gaze that she despises me. She doesn't understand that the cause is bigger than her or me." He whispered, looking blankly at the cream-coloured curtain behind which people were moving, their moans and sighs loud, pathetic, foreign.

Madam hummed with understanding, combing his hair with her fingers, her thighs where his head lay warm and soft.

"She is certainly frightened and lonely. A woman, unlike a man, has few options for resistance. Like any human being, she longs for freedom, my Prince." She said calmly, as if speaking to a small child, trailing her fingertips down his bare back.

He swallowed hard, feeling that the poppy milk he had drunk just a moment ago had begun to take effect, relaxing him, the pain in his eye socket finally subsiding, allowing him to breathe.

"We all want to be free. I understand it, but I cannot be weak. I protect my family." He whispered and closed his eyes – he felt the frustration of hearing Madam open her mouth, wanting to say more.

"Enough." He commanded coolly and she fell silent, tense, her trembling hand still trailing over his naked body.

He felt tears full of shame under his eyelids at the thought that he had confided in a whore.

As usual, as he walked back from her to the Red Keep, looking under his feet, he felt embarrassment and discouragement, emptiness and fatigue.

Daemon's daughter had a charisma that apparently made Vhagar listen to her, so they practised on her the way she gave commands.

Looking at her from the side, he had the impression that she stood beside him with only her body – her dark eyes remained blank, her face, her words, her gaze never directed towards him.

While some people dreamed of touching or riding a dragon, of being in the very company of these mystical beasts, she seemed indifferent to it – even though Vhagar listened to her like an obedient dog, she never tried to come closer, to touch her, to establish a relationship with her, as if the fact that she had to do this was beneath her dignity.

He hated her for despising what was most precious to him.

He hated her, but he needed her.

He stepped into his chamber through one of the hidden passages of the fortress and pulled off his cloak, tossing it carelessly onto his bed. He furrowed his brow as he saw that the books that had lain on the table earlier were scattered on the ground.

Someone was in his chamber, he thought with fury.

He froze as he heard screaming and crying, growing louder and louder, the guards one by one began to run down the corridor towards the chamber of his sister and her children.

He moved there, feeling anxiety, his heart in his throat as he entered the room and saw his mother kneeling over the bed of his nephew, his headless body looking like a doll.

He fell to his knees not knowing how else he was supposed to react to what he was seeing, feeling like he couldn't catch his breath, the screams and wails of his mother pressing her face against the boy's body so loud he felt like his skull was going to burst.

He was with a whore when they did it.

With a whore.

"What happened? What's the commotion?" He heard his brother's voice as he rushed into the chamber half drunk, staggering, stopping between him and his mother.

He watched as the expression on his face changed from shock and disbelief to despair, as a drawn-out, high-pitched, inhuman whine broke from his throat, followed by a sob, honest and full of suffering.

"– Jaehaerys –" He cried, whooping with tears, trying to touch him, but their mother pushed him away, shaking her head.

"– Aegon, please, leave, don't look at it –"

"– Jaehaerys – oh, gods, my boy, my sweet, sweet, little boy –" He babbled, dropping to his knees next to him, snuggling into their mother's womb, his hands clenched on her gown, a howl coming from his mouth as if someone had slit his insides with a knife.

He could feel his knee twitching in nervous reflex under the table, the wave of thoughts running over his mind making him feel dulled, hearing as if through a fog what was happening in the Small Council room.

His nephew was dead.

They had murdered Jaehaerys because they had not found him in his chamber.

He had been with a whore instead of defending his family.

He was next in line for the throne.

His nephew was dead.

A small, sweet, polite boy.

His children could sit on the Iron Throne.

"– bring me that whore – it's her fault – she certainly helped her father –" Aegon exclaimed, hitting the table top with his fist, his face all red and swollen from tears.

"– the guards went to her quarters, Your Grace – but I don't think she –" Criston Cole didn't finish as the door to the chamber opened and she was led inside like a prisoner.

It was apparent that she had been snatched from a deep sleep, her hair in a slight disarray, a thin brown robe thrown over her nightgown.

Aegon stood up, moving at her like a wild animal, Criston Cole and their mother had to restrain him, grabbing his arms to prevent him from killing her with his own hands.

"– WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, YOU FUCKING WHORE – WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY SON? –" He shouted, and she shook her head, shocked, looking at him with wide eyes, confusion in her expression.

She had no idea what had happened, he thought.

He knew she had nothing to do with it.

His spies were watching her day and night.

"– I don't understand –" She muttered.

"– the royal heir, my Lady – our king's son was bestially murdered in front of his poor mother – the boy's head was cut off – we suspect this is your father's revenge for the death of Lucerys Velaryon –" Tyland Lannister said, glancing at her uncertainly.

It was the first time he had seen her in such a state – her eyebrows arched in pain, as if this news had truly broken her, her dark eyes large and filled with sadness, her mouth parted wide in an expression of helplessness.

"– I have nothing to do with this – gods, I swear –" She mumbled, shaking her head, his brother screaming in rage.

"– LIAR! –"

"– she's telling the truth –" He said forcing himself to be calm, running his fingers across the table top.

His brother froze, looking at him suddenly, his gaze such as if he had realised something. He pulled himself out of the arms of Criston Cole and their mother, walking slowly towards him, his heart in his throat with terror.

"– and you, brother? – where were you, our protector, when they murdered my little son? – hm? –" He asked in a trembling voice, his eyes glazed over with tears.

He pressed his lips together, trying not to burst into sobs, to remain calm, unable to bear the shame that filled his heart.

"– with that fucking old whore whose tits you like to cuddle up to? – with your second mummy when they cut my boy's head off? –" He shouted in his face, and he felt a single, lonely tear run down his cheek.

"– and you, Cole? –" His brother continued, turning abruptly the other way, leaving him with his humiliating words, heavy tears full of guilt one after another running down his cheeks. "– where the fuck have you been? –"

"– in my bed, my King –"

"– IN YOUR BED? – IN YOUR BED INSTEAD OF WATCHING OVER MY WIFE AND CHILDREN! –" He wailed, barely staying on his feet, finally burying his face in his hands, their mother embraced him to calm him down.

"– get out –" He cried out finally. "– GET OUT – GET OUT – GET OUT –"

He shouted, so they all stood up – as he walked out, out of the corner of his eye he noticed that she was looking at him, her dark, warm gaze full of compassion he so despised.

The next day the funeral took place, his mother and sister, led by the dead body of his nephew, moved in procession through the streets of King's Landing, showing their subjects the cruelty of the heiress to the throne.

He watched them from behind the walls, feeling an emptiness, wondering if, had he not gone out that night, he would have saved him, or if he himself would have died then.

He felt both relief that it had not been him and regret that it was his nephew who had paid the price.

"Your Highness. She is already in your chamber, as you ordered." Said one of the guards, and he merely nodded and walked back into the fortress.

When he walked into his quarters indeed, his cousin was inside and she jumped up, hearing his rapid footsteps. He passed her without a word and settled over the map, spreading his hand over it.

"There are several places where wild dragons have been seen. One of those places is the Vale." He said, placing one of the gold coins in that spot.

"I've heard of it." She whispered, her voice frustratingly soft. "The farmers complained that it devours their flocks, sheep and pigs."

He nodded his head without looking at her, taking his cup in his hand, drinking wine from the morning, heedless of how early it was.

"This is our first target. The other ones are too close to Rhaenyra. We can't risk them discovering our plan. We will fly there on Vhagar." He said, sitting down in the chair, pressing the cup to his lips, the slightly tart and sweet taste of the wine melting on his tongue.

He looked at her, hearing her silence.

The light of the sun illuminated her graceful, girlish figure, her full lips shone as brightly as her eyes, her expression unexpectedly gentle.

He was sure she would say something that would enrage him, offer him condolences, or worse, begin to pity and console him, trying to step into the role of his mother.

That she would try use what she had heard about him to manipulate him.

"More wine?" She asked.

He sighed, feeling some kind of relief, and nodded, extending his hand with the goblet to her.

She walked slowly to the table, took the silver jug from it and leaned over him, filling his cup fully; looking at her in this position, smelling her pleasant scent, he could see the soft outline of her plump breasts under her gown.

His soft length swelled and throbbed in his breeches against his will as he thought about his tongue rolling around her hard, puffy nipples.

Because of this, because of the moment of relief, because of the woman's touch, he lost his guard and led to tragedy.

"We leave tomorrow at first light."

Silence.

"I want to ask you something, cousin. And I know you won't like it." She said in a trembling voice, standing over him with the jug in her hands.

He froze in mid-motion, raising the wine cup to his lips, staring dully ahead.

"You like to take risks, don't you?" He snorted, finally taking a deep, draughty sip, feeling the alcohol slowly begin to dull his senses.

"No, but you give me no choice. I will fly with you and the will of the gods will happen, as you desire. However, the chance of me dying in flames or being devoured is just as great as the chance of me succeeding." She said uncertainly and he sighed heavily, setting his cup down on the table with a loud clink of steel.

"What do you want?"

She was silent for a long moment, standing over him, he heard her swallow hard.

"Servant. I want to choose one and take him to my bed. I don't want to die without having any idea of this sensations." She muttered with sincere, childish shame, infuriating him.

I don't want to die without having any idea of this sensations.

"Aren't you ashamed to ask something like that out loud? What self-respecting Lord will want you after this?" He asked, unable to look her in the face, for some reason feeling aroused, his erection pulsed as he imagined her beneath the young man, moaning in pleasure.

"I don't care what the lords will think of me. If I become a dragon rider, my maidenhood will be the least of their worries. I have no desire to become either a wife or a mother. I could try to hide it from you, but I stand here before you and ask your permission like a dog." She said in a way from which he felt a squeeze in his throat, a disturbing idea filling his head.

He thought it was certainly the fault of the amount of wine he had drunk.

The fact that he needed to vent after what had happened, the humiliation he had experienced.

"Knowing what you ask, my soul will have no peace unless I am assured that no man has taken you by force." He replied at last, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, something in his gaze evidently told her what he was thinking of, for her words left her lips without hesitation.

"I'll let you watch if it will soothe your conscience." She said, and he grinned in a way from which she swallowed hard.

"It will."

There was something absurd and unreal about how, on the day of his nephew's funeral, when everyone was in mourning, he had walked by her side in the Red Keep, letting her pick the ripest, sweetest apple.

Her cool, almost disgust-filled approach to his inheritance made him treat his original idea of marrying her with reserve, and this way he could have something on her that he could use against her in the future.

If the need arose.

She had found out something about him against his will, and now he was going to use his advantage.

She paused, looking between the cloisters at one of the young men talking to a member of the Kingsguard, with golden, beautiful curls and bright eyes, his pearly laughter spreading around them.

She blinked, glancing over her shoulder at him, as if asking his opinion, and he wondered if this was how the gossiping ladies of the court felt.

"This is Tyland Lannister's servant. His distant relative. A bastard." He explained, looking at her indifferently. He saw that she pressed her lips together, as if she was thinking hard about something.

"Can he be trusted?" She asked, and he chuckled under his breath and shook his head, sighing in disbelief.

"Will your secret be safe with him? No."

Did she really believe that the entire Red Keep wouldn't find out about what she had done?

That the ladies of the court and the lords would not call her a shameless whore?

He blinked and led her away with a glance, seeing that she had simply moved ahead. He stood and watched in disbelief as she walked up to the two men and began to speak to them.

They both laughed, glancing at him as if she had said something amusing about him and he pressed his lips into a thin line at the thought.

Cunt.

After a while, the knight left them, and she was left alone with the boy who had piqued her attention. He leaned over her as if he was interested in what she was saying, his eyes big, his mouth twitching in a smile full of disbelief.

Had she just told him what she wanted to do?

Just like that, without any forethought or embarrassment.

The man bowed to her and escorted her away with a curious look as she returned to him, throwing him a calm look full of self-satisfaction.

"He agreed. He said I am beautiful." She said.

"You're a fool." He replied coldly.

She blinked and smiled warmly in a way from which he felt discomfort.

"Come."

He didn't understand what he was doing there – didn't understand why he was looking at them from afar like a shadow, why he was watching as his hands wandered over her cheeks and neck, as his lips placed soft, butterfly kisses on her lips.

"Do it slowly," she said, and he obeyed, not caring too much about his presence, eager to please her and to experience fulfilment himself.

He saw her flinch as his hand travelled to her breasts under the thin material of her gown, her fingers tightening on his wrist.

"– no –" He heard her whisper, her eyes closed, her head thrown back as if she was trying to relax. "– not yet –"

He was ashamed that he had been hard; he was ashamed that he had had to sit in a chair with his legs crossed so it wouldn't be visible. He was ashamed that he took some sick satisfaction from what he was looking at, knowing that he would be able to use it against her.

He swallowed hard as her eyes opened suddenly, her gaze finding his face and remaining fixed on him as the boy's lips sank into her neck again and again.

She sighed as he pressed her against the bed with his body, growing more and more aroused and impatient, her fingers clenched on his tunic in some helpless gesture, her doe eyes shining from tears of discomfort.

"– slow down –" He commanded, and the man raised his head and looked at him, breathing heavily, shocked.

"– Your Highness? –"

"– slow down, I said –" He repeated, looking at her, her full lips parted slightly, in her gaze the pain and heat from which he felt his cock swell all over his breeches, the wine humming in his head, filling his body with a pleasant warmth.

He felt the satisfaction of seeing that when the boy returned to his caresses, treating her more gently, running his hands down her waist, her gaze did not leave him, fixed on him.

He was sure for some reason that she would ask him to join them.

That she didn't really want this pathetic, simple boy who barely kept his cock in his trousers at all.

"– sink your fingers between her thighs – prepare her properly –" He instructed him and saw that her eyes grew big as she swallowed hard, looking up at her lover who, in one sure movement, lifted the skirt of her gown, slipping his hand under it.

She moaned as he touched her there and closed her eyes for a brief moment, but after a while her brow arched in some kind of uncomfortable expression, her hips swung back as if she were running away from him.

He was doing it too fast, without affection, without finesse, rushing to his own fulfilment and he was not surprised, but that was not the purpose of this whole farce.

Indeed, she could have burned in the dragon's fire, and the fact that she was just about to experience what a man's peak was was hardly what she had imagined.

He wondered if he should intervene, recognising that she wanted it herself.

And then he saw his hand slide down to his breeches and he simply rose from his seat.

"– step back, boy –" He snarled, approaching them lazily.

The boy rose and moved away, shocked as was his cousin, leaning on her elbows, her dark eyes big and shining, her cheeks and lips parted in a drawn-out breath red with emotion.

She sighed as he grabbed her around the waist and moved her so that he sat behind her back, placing his legs on either side of her body, pulling her close so she could feel on her ass what she had done to him.

How fucking hard he was because of her and her idea.

His fingers ran over her neck and tilted her head so that she rested her back against his shoulder, his nose pressed against her hot, fragrant, sweaty cheek as his free hand forced her to bend her legs at the knees, lowering her skirts and smallclothes.

"– bend over and lick her –" He commanded, running his full lips over her bare skin, stroking the silky structure of the inside of her thigh with his palm, as if he wanted to reassure her and prepare her for what was about to happen.

"– what? –" She muttered quietly, tense, in some involuntary, helpless reflex reaching her hand back, clasping it softly in his hair.

The man swallowed hard, sensing already, probably subconsciously, that he would not regain control of the situation and could not hope for fulfilment.

Good, he thought.

There was no reason why he should fill her with his worthless seed or take her maidenhood.

"– easy –" He whispered in her ear, running his thumb over her jawline, her thigh quivering in his embrace. "– let me take care of this –"

He said and nodded, ordering the boy to obey his command. The man swallowed and leaned in, her hips moving backwards in a subconscious reflex, wanting to protect herself, but they met his body, pressing against his rock-hard length.

Her lips parted in shock as she moaned suddenly, apparently feeling the man's tongue deep inside her, while his hand slid from her thigh to her sticky, swollen folds, seeking her puffy bud.

"– ah – oh, gods, t-too much, too much –" She mewled, clenching her fingers tighter in his white hair, his hands from her jaw slipping under the fabric of her gown, sinking slowly into the soft, plump skin of her breasts.

"– you wanted it yourself – go on –" He said dryly, his last words directed at the man thrusting between her throbbing slit with his tongue.

She threw her head back with a girlish, sweet moan as the man sped up, the tips of their noses touching as his forehead pressed against hers.

"– if only you were my little sister – I'd caress you like this every night – would you like it? –" He gasped encouragingly, knowing exactly what he wanted to do to her, feeling her body squirm in his embrace in pure ecstasy.

He could take Daemon's place by her side.

To be her protector, the man in whom she would seek refuge.

She gasped as his thumb began to tease her hard nipple in an offhanded manner, the fingers of his other hand digging lazily into her leaking cunt in circular motions, securing her path to fulfilment to the accompaniment of the loud clicks of the boy's saliva between her thighs.

"– what would your father say at the sight of this – hm? – do you think he would be proud? –" He whispered, feeling that his fingers were all sticky from her wetness. She shook her head quickly, moaning at the same time, slowly losing touch with reality.

He didn't even notice when he started panting himself, rolling his hips back and forth, rubbing his manhood between her buttocks, feeling the tightness in his stones testifying that he himself was fully aroused.

"– you like it, don't you? – I can feel you're close – come on his face –" He breathed out, and she moaned and shook her head, raising her big, tear-filled eyes at him, her face smooth and bright up close, her eyelashes long and black, as beautiful as her lips and eyebrows arched in indecision.

"– g-gods, stop –" She mumbled out, and after a moment he felt her body shake in convulsion, her lips parted wide as she cried out in pleasure, rocking her hips into the strokes of his fingers, his other hand kneading her soft breast like dough.

"– that's what I thought – just like that – easy now –" He hummed, letting his forehead last pressed against hers while she trembled all over, giving her a sense of reassurance. He watched with some kind of warmth as she panted heavily with her eyes closed, tears of shame, horror and fulfilment flowing down her red, sweaty cheeks.

"You may leave." He commanded, glancing sideways out of the corner of his eye at her pathetic lover. "If you tell anyone about this, I will cut your tongue out."

The man rose from between her thighs, all red with exertion, wiped his chin and lips and climbed off the bed, his long, hard erection clearly outlined in his trousers.

He smirked under his breath at the sight of it, concentrating on her accelerated breathing, on her hot, wet womanhood pulsing under his fingers, on her soft breast on which he simply held his hand, not moving, feeling her heart pounding hard in her chest.

He let her turn in his embrace, let her snuggle into his body, let her throw her arms around his neck, lingering with her like this, spread out comfortably on the pillow behind his back, feeling his hard manhood push against her stomach again and again.

He stroked her soft, long hair, thinking with tenderness that he now had her in his grasp.

______

Author's note: I know that in my requests I don't allow requests for triangles in my stories and I never write them because I just don't like them, but when I came up with this idea here my brain was like:………. And you have what you have. Let's just say that this is a tiny break of my rule for you, my dear readers.

[skay-ali]

The Forgotten Daughter

Chapter 1

You still clearly remember when you arrived at your new home  It was the biggest house you had been able to see in your short life.

When you got a better look, you felt a great sadness emanating from the outer walls, each space filled with a lifeless neutral color.

The owner of all the hallways, floors and valuable things, he was also a spitting image of melancholic, that was what you wanted to believe for a long time, that your new father was so damaged, that he couldn't afford to fix anyone else, besides him.

You took refuge in your room, the first days were full of tears and great sadness, you had not only lost your dear mother, but also your home, you ended up in an unknown place, with unknown people, you were miserably alone.  

Recovering a little from your depressed and lifeless state, you decided to seek comfort, whatever you could get, it didn't take a hug or sympathetic words, not even a minute of attention, just an empathetic look, a pat or some miserable affection.

Alfred, the butler, was the one who was in charge of taking care of you, he tried to give you the affection you needed, he was a father, while your real father continued to behave like an adult with no responsibilities at home, he was a sought-after bachelor with no children.

Seeing him and a new woman passing through the hallways hurt you a lot, not because of jealousy, you thanked all the divinities that your mother never stayed with your father, but rather because those women received more love and attention than the one you you had when you arrived at this house, of course they were only small one-night stands or fleeting relationships, but they still had your father's attention.

Some time passed, your father brought a boy, upon returning from one of his outings, you knew his secret that he was a superhero, you knew it from the day you saw him injured in the dining room chair while you were leaving with a tray of cookies you made with Alfred for their movie night. The point was that you never went out with your father, not even when he was in his role as a millionaire.

You thought that new boy was just your father's whim, to help someone in trouble, but he became your new brother, was that his way of helping?  

You tried to establish a friendly relationship with the boy, your new brother Dick Wayne, but he was so focused on his pain and hatred that he didn't even look at you at first, but with a little perseverance, you became his rock of support in his lowest moments together with Alfred, it's a shame that in trying to find his new path he left you behind.

Unlike you, your father did pay attention to him and looked at him, he was his son.  

He did the same with his next two adopted children, Jason, the brother you were able to get along with the most, he told you a lot about the adventures he had or the books he finished reading, he was like a little child next to you. Until he died. It was sad, not seeing him anymore. It depressed you for a long time.

After Jason, Tim followed, he was a very closed child with you, he didn't give you an ounce of his attention, just an unfriendly face.

You only had these little descriptions of your siblings, not that you knew much about them, you never dug deep into their past, you tried to be a good big sister. 

When the third child arrived you had already graduated and managed to enter a university very far away from Gotham City.

You packed your bags, said goodbye to the only person who was your family in this house and went to form your new life.

You didn't expect that a few years later, while you were preparing dinner with one of your best friends, he would tell you that you have a person at the door looking for you. 

 Less see a child who was the same carbon copy of your father.

"Well... What brings you here?"

The boy's raised eyebrow told you how bad you were starting the conversation, but in your defense you didn't know what to do, you were full of nerves, leaving the boy outside your house was not an option, it was at night and it was dangerous.

"I am Damian Wayne, the first blood son of Bruce Wayne, a true Wayne" what great arrogance this boy possessed.

"I came to this place to look for the first girl my father adopted"

"You know we are half-brothers from what I understand your speech." 

His look full of anger and indignation showed that he did not like your words.

"YOU…"

He was ready to get up when some whimpers stopped him.

"Excuse me for a moment if" you left the room and ran to the cause of the whining.

Damian was regretting having come to this place just with the goal of meeting a girl, Alfred had made her sound like someone great, but seeing her for the first time disappointed him, you weren't even half as good as his other brothers, that It meant you couldn't even reach his heels. But still there was something that stopped him from leaving when he saw you, your kind way of receiving him, how you treated him as kindly as possible without you knowing him.

He got very angry when you named him an equal, his half-sister, he didn't like that title, he was ready to start a fight and teach you a lesson, but some whining stopped him from continuing.

Seeing you return to the living room with a baby in your arms baffled him, maybe you had a son.

He watched you sit down, you rocked the baby lovingly and you hummed a song to him.

"This is Alice, she's my little princess" you smiled as you showed her to the boy.

If your little adventure with the stranger who joked about being a hero ended with the origin of your cute baby, you became a new version of your mother.

Your new half-brother focused a lot on watching the girl.

"Now, as I understand it, you were looking for me because you wanted to meet me, right?"  

"No, of course not, I just wanted to know who the girl Alfred always talked about was."

"It's not the same as what I said"

It seems that you provoked the boy, when you saw him go towards the door.

"Hey why don't you stay to eat" you stopped the boy, if you weren't already over this family.    

You got up with your baby and carefully placed her in the child's arms.

"Here, load it up, I'll put the plates for dinner."

  You went to the kitchen and the boy quickly followed you with the baby.

"I'm not your babysitter to take care of your daughter," he complained.

"No, of course you're not her babysitter, you're her dear uncle" I smiled at how adorable they looked "Look, it seems like she adores you, she almost never likes to leave my side and cries when someone else picks her up."

There were a few more complaints from the boy, but you saw that your words made him proud and made him play with the baby in his arms.

If the yandere family has not yet appeared, it will first start from the smallest, the indirect cause that all the others are yanderes, maybe??? an attempted introduction to what ___'s life was like in the mansion and his relationship with his first 3 brothers and a comforting scene with one of the brothers. I hope you like this attempt at a story, I'm still thinking of more ideas for drama and anguish and who could be the baby's father and new yandere

@kore-of-the-underworld @vanessa-boo @jsprien213

[risuola]

ENTRY #12 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // In a room full of other people, blindly I'd find you.

contents: arranged marriage!au, jealousy (duh!) — wc. 1463

a/n: little experiment, let's see how it goes. please let me know what do you think of this chapter! also, we're getting closer to the nsfw entry, i hope you guys are as excited as i am!!

series masterlist

“You are breathtaking. I did not deserve an honor of your presence.”

Satoru hates it.

“The pleasure is mine,” you reply, a sweet smile adorning your face in a way that makes your husband narrow his eyes. A hand dances along your spine, caressing the bare skin that you decided to expose in a dress with a low cut on the back. You are breathtaking. You are a sight that should cost money to be looked at, you are stealing the show, like a magnet attracting both men and women around the wide ballroom.

He hates it so much.

You seem polite, overly so and accepting too — a little too much for Gojo’s liking. You move along the man — not him — with grace, with fluidity and the long layer of smooth fabric dances around your legs. The dress you wear makes him salivate, it makes him think thoughts that are ungodly, that are unallowed. Silk that wraps around your body in an expensive, luxurious embrace causes Satoru to curse himself for buying that very dress for you few days before. It is beautiful, tailored to your shapes and edges. It’s soft, but with enough body to flow gracefully along your movements. It hugs your chest and loosens up below your hips, it’s a dream, you are a dream.

But you are dancing with someone else.

It’s a job unlike the others. An order from higher ups required you and him to attend a ball — an event as fancy as it can get because there has been a rumor that said the circles of people, filthy and rich, were contracting curse users for entertainment, causing chaos and harm. It would be easy to just get all of them, interrogate, torture, but this time the means are different. This time, it’s you who plays the main role, swiftly engaging with influential men and pulling their tongues until they slip.

It was easy.

Men there were dogs and a sight of a woman — as beautiful as you — laced with a silent promise is enough to make them spill their secrets. They were eating from your hands, wrapping themselves around your pinkie, voluntarily telling you more than you asked. Easy.

But Satoru hates it.

He’s there with you, your plus one, your partner and an entry card for a party as luxurious as it is. You didn’t know how he got the invitation, but the sight of it didn’t surprise you. He is rich, he is Gojo, you are Gojo.

And you are annoyed.

You don’t like the job. You got what you wanted, it was a child’s play but then, you hate how good your husband looks. You hate how other women are looking at him, ogling him, undressing him, eating him alive. The lady that clings to him — onto him — seems too old, too eager. Her greedy hands cannot settle for one place, wandering over Satoru’s broad shoulders, his chest hidden beneath a crisp, white shirt, his sides. The obnoxiously manicured fingers are dragging themselves across his body, examining, exploring, consuming. They are underneath his suit jacket; they are in his hair and near his face and you wish to break them one by one.

Satoru is smiling, working his features into a sight of an angel, using his eyes to hypnotize, whispering sweet little nothings and promising more than he’s willing to give, just to get what he wants in exchange. He has it easy, you think. Your husband is blessed with not only strength but also looks, unfairly, but god do seem to have favorites.

He catches you looking. You catch him looking. A silent communication that makes it through the distance of the ballroom, and then you’re focused on the man beside you again. Suddenly aware of hands that roam your curves, of traces of unwanted heat that his fingertips are leaving at their wake, a breath against your neck. An invitation that whispered right to your ear causes you to flinch involuntarily and a shiver that runs down your spine makes you take a step back.

“Excuse me,” you smile, a fake gesture wrapped in fake politeness. Your hands press against his chest and his own slip over the silk of your dress. He lets go of you, nearly, and you’re close to leaving when you feel his fingers digging into the soft flesh above your hipbones. The entire front of your torso hits the hard chest, knocking the air of your lungs for a split of a second.

“Don’t leave me yet, darling,” he murmurs, his mouth brushing against your earlobe. There’s a shift in his tone, the sweet and flirty undertones are suddenly much darker, greedier. His grip grows harsh against your skin, forcefully intimate.

“Oh, it’s time for me,” you say, a smirk tugging at your lips. With a corner of your eye, you notice Satoru getting closer, but you have no intention of waiting for him to save you like you’re a damsel in distress. “Let go,” you warn, sneaking one of your hands underneath the suit jacket of the man. Swiftly you move it to the top of his shoulder, a little more to his back and you squeeze, digging your fingers harshly into the one, very sensitive spot right above his shoulder blade. The vulnerable muscle tense underneath your assault and the man winces, cursing under his breath and calling you names that are far from elegant. “Hands off. Or you’ll say goodbye to your right hand and I bet you need it.”

He growls, like an animal under attack, hisses almost and you smile in victory when his hold on you falters, allowing you to step back. You smooth your dress, fix the straps on your shoulders, and blow a strand of hair from your eyes before Satoru reaches you, effectively cutting short any attempts of biting back that the man could have had.

“Anything you wish to say?” He asks, narrowing his eyes, lowering his tone. It’s cold enough to make you shiver, scary almost, and inside it makes you giddy. He is so very jealous it’s written all over his face and yet, you’re certain, he would never admit it even if burned and tortured. “No? I thought so.” He closes the conversation before it begins, cuts the discussion short and turns to you.

“Hello, handsome,” you greet him, suddenly possessive and it surprises you as much as it does surprise him, because a short oh slips through his lips when you reach up to lock your fingers together at the nape of his neck.

“Hello to you too, beautiful,” he replies, the words foreign on his tongue but feeling so right and then, his hands follow the curves of your hips and waist until he finds the spot to rest one of them — the other moves further, circling behind you and planting itself on your bare back. The touch burns your skin, sending waves and waves of heat throughout your entire system and to your face.

You feel the eyes on you, much more threatening than before. The stares of women present around you are drilling holes in your body and if they could kill, you’d lay cold already.

“I’ve never seen you jealous,” Satoru purrs against your lips right after you pull him down, pressing a kiss to his mouth — possessive, proving, claiming.

“Goes both ways,” you tease and he rolls his eyes, but drops his head lower, sucking a spot on the side of your neck. A mark to show everyone that you belong to him, a signature etched onto your delicate skin, a bite of nothing but unspoken love.

“I’m not jealous,” he protests, just for the sake of it because he knows it’s false just as well as you know it. His voice vibrates against your flesh and his breath tickles you, his eyelashes do too.

Satoru inhales, filling his lungs with the subtle scent of your skin and perfume, the one with sweet vanilla undertone that he likes so much on you. It suits you, makes you seem delicious, makes him want to taste you. It calms him — your presence — it makes him relax underneath the sturdy hold of your hands. It teases him. The way your thumbs are brushing against the very sensitive spots on his nape, it makes him want to whimper and so, he pulls you closer, flush to himself, hungry for your touch and presence.

“We should leave this place,” you murmur quietly, running the tips of your fingernails across his scalp, sending shivers that run down his spine.

“Yeah,” he inhales again, bracing himself to leave the comfortable spot in the between your shoulder and neck, and before you know it, he’s pulling your hand, pulling you somewhere only he knows.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe @fortunatelyfurrygiver @lolita-h

[narwhalsarefalling]

wait hey. i have an idea. they split someone elses quirk in half, and gave the destroying half to tenko, right?

(we know that this is chisaki because this panal is cut directly from chapter 158)

well. i think i know where the healing half went. it went to eri.

think about it- everyone said her quirk was a sudden mutation unlike either of her parents quirks.

i think eri and a few other children like touya and chisaki were backup plans. we already know touya was one of those 'backups,' and we have evidence of chisaki being the source of the destorying/repairing quirk that was split.

eri was just a more recent backup plan in case things went south at the LOV attack at USJ. since AFO was arrested shortafter, she kind of got lost in the shuffle and was just written off to be a similar "seedbeds of ferocity and hatred" as she grew up under chisaki's care.

she even has a similar backstory to Tenko already, having killed a member of her family by accident

that could be why her quirks so weird to- it takes time for it to remember how to "fix" things since its also not "destroying" things as a blueprint. since the quirk is split, it doesnt know how to "fix" things because theres nothing"destroying" things. so it has to rely on time itself to "fix". thats how i think overhaul's quirk works anyway- something needs to be ''destroyed" before being "fixed". its even said that her quirk is similar to chisaki's.

she also suffers from the same control issues tomura had. i bet that her being placed in the care of someone suspected to be another AFO project was not a coincidence. she could have been a very fitting replacement for tenko- she killed her parents with her quirk and was raised in an environment where she was seen as nothing more then a tool for things to end. it was only her determination that she was able to escape his grasp.

just like how chisaki was saved from the same place where Touya woke up from. I wonder if Touya's breakout triggered Chisaki's escape and into the hands of the yakuza.

and of course, saving Chisaki from an even worse fate

[stove-top96]

Better In the Dark

Synopsis

Y Platonic Batfam x GN Meta Reader

Featuring: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne

0.8K

Just an Idea I had while writing Chapter 3 of water colour eyes. I’m definitely gonna write Chapter 1 soon (maybe this weekend). Let me know what y’all think. I’m in such a writing mood lately so stay tuned for other Ideas and more one-shots.

You really didn’t mean for it to happen, but your mistake never warranted such an extreme reaction. You were careless, relying too much on your powers rather than the proper technique when fighting. if it weren’t for Robin you probably would’ve died. Still, they've all had near death experiences. What makes you any different? It seems like overnight everything’s flipped 180, they’re all more extreme, more obsessed. Don’t they understand your civilian life doesn’t include them? Why are they so goddamn insistent?

For Bruce it was like reliving the same nightmare. Watching helpless as the goons put that power inhibition collar on. Unable to do anything when they struck you over the head. The same helpless despair pooling in his gut from when he watched his parents die, Jason die and now you. This cycle of watching the people he cares about die is one he thought he broke free of, clearly not. While he sits there by your hospital bed, the beep from the heart monitor is the only thing that keeps him going. (Y/N) (L/N) he swears to you that he will never let anyone ever hurt you again.

It was different for Dick, he knew you looked up to Nightwing, to him, Even so he wasn’t there that night. Your hero, the one you aspire to be like, wasn't even there to save you. He’s pathetic, what kind of symbol is he when he can’t even protect the people close to him? He wasn’t even doing anything important that night, he was watching Netflix for god's sake, on a supposed “rest day” while you were giving it your all. He doesn’t deserve to be your hero, you’re too good to him. He knows you’ll say “it wasn’t anyone’s anyone’s fault but my own” deep down he knows the truth. He’ll give up anything to make it up to you, to be someone who deserves to be looked up towards.

Jason was scared. He knows what it’s like to put your trust in others only for them to not be there. Bruce did it to him, but now he’s done it to you. He’s become exactly what he despised. He doesn’t let just anyone grow close to him, but your kindness and authenticity was different, you weren’t fake to him and your kindness started to rub off on him. You were like his sibling, you brought light into his life, and he was supposed to protect that, protect you. He doesn’t know what will happen once you wake up. Knowing you, you won't blame anyone. But will you truly forgive them for not being there? Will you blame him?

Tim was the closest to you. Both of you being similar in age, and sharing a sense of humour it was hard not to get along with you. You were able to match his intellect, and even saved him a few times when Tim Drake was kidnapped and held for ransom (not that you knew it was him). Even more than that, you understood him more than anyone else did. You both started being vigilantes at around the same time, but unlike you Tim only became Robin because no one else would, and you never blamed him for that you also understood Batman needs Robin. When saw what happened he didn’t know what to do. He Joked with you earlier how Gothams became so tame, he should have seen this coming, it was too quiet. He has a plan of action for everything, yet when it mattered he froze. Sure it was only for a few seconds, but that’s life or death. He’s Lucky, you lived. If you didn’t, it would be his fault. How is he supposed to live with himself after such a drastic mistake?

Damian’s perspective changed. You were never on the same level as him, but he thought he could hold your own. It’s clear that belief was a mistake, one that almost cost you your life. you’re weak, someone who just happened to be meta. you’re not like him or the others. You’re meant to be protected, to stay at home while he fights. It was his blind trust in your abilities that you ended up in that bed. He’s grown careless, you made him that way. Your laugh had an uncanny ability to make him feel at ease, he’s never felt so seen by a person before. It was easy to lower his guard around you, a trait of yours he both cherished and envied. He won’t make that mistake again, he knows what he needs to do to ensure you stay protected.

Silence fills the Batcave, the family can do nothing but stare down at you. Unable to do anything but relive that night, they promise nothing like that will ever happen again. They will make sure of it.

[katiascraft]

✐ᝰ "You knew all too well i was right where you left me" | CL16 ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊

parings: retired!charles leclerc x writer!ex!reader

🔎 chapter one: “love is short but forgetting is so long”

🔎 chapter two: “did the love affair mail you too?”

chapter three: “you kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath” -> chapter four

summary: It’s the story of a woman frozen in the moment her world fell apart. A perfect dinner ended with, “I met someone else,” and while everyone moved on, she remained stuck in that instant, unable to let go of the past. A poignant tale of heartbreak, grief, and the weight of being trapped in a “forever” that never was.

word count: +5k.

BLOG MASTERLIST - series masterlist

⋆˚࿔𝜗𝜚˚⋆

charlesleclerc uploaded a new story

view story replies

arthurleclerc: AAAAAAAAAA need your feedback asap

arthurleclerc: which chapter are you on already? I cried on chapter 9 😭😭😭 so sad

arthurleclerc: i can't believe you're reading it tho

arthurleclerc: it's a beautiful book

arthurleclerc: she is really good with words i mean i SOBBED

arthurleclerc: when she said 'you kept me like a secret but i kept you like an oath. That's the difference. I was never important enough for you' let that shit sink in HEAVY

arthurleclerc: AND chapter 4????? Describes being in love so well it gave me chills i was thinking about carla the whole time

carlossainz: 🤨🤨🤨🤨 didnt know MY FRIEND charles READ ?????????

carlossainz: OH WAIT

landonorris: r u mad with me? I promise i won't hit on your ex 😔

landonorris: stop ignoring me charlie please 😭

⋆˚࿔𝜗𝜚˚⋆

He needed to be alone. It took him a few days to actually convince himself of reading it. After that nigh, he only could think of that fucking phrase: “just between us, did the love affair maim you too?”.

He took it personally. It did maim him. Of course it did. It still haunts him until now. Maybe Arthur was right. Maybe he needed to read that book to make a decision, whatever it may be, he had the feeling something was gonna change if he did. So he decided to take his yacht alone, and read, and spend time with himself. To reflect. He needed that.

The monaco sea was calmed so unlike he was in that moment, eyeing the pages rumbling around the thought of what was about to come when he started reading it for real. The sun was shining trying to keep him warm he thought, but he was shivering way too much by his liking. He found himself trapped in that feeling again. That feeling of not wanting to see the truth, to read how much he hurt her. 

But, maybe it was all fictional, right? Maybe Arthur didn't say it like it was about him, right? Maybe it was just another romance story of heartbreak. He shouldn’t take it so personally. It was not a big deal. He sighed. He didn't know what to believe but stopped hesitating much and jumped straight into chapter one. He ignored the greetings page. His anxiety just couldn't hold any more suspense. 

⋆˚࿔ the initial impact: the recognition of what he once was𝜗𝜚˚⋆

🧣 “chapter one: through the doorway it’s where all begun” 

“The story begins with the protagonist walking through the door of her lover’s life for the first time. The air is cold and sharp, autumn biting at her cheeks, but there’s something warm and inviting in the atmosphere, something inexplicably familiar. She is a stranger in this house, yet she feels oddly at home. His sister’s voice carries from the kitchen, and laughter filters through the walls. 

The protagonist is nervous, her fingers clutching the scarf around her neck as if it’s her last piece of armor. She’s stepping into a new world—his world—and is eager yet afraid of what she’ll find. Her lover greets her with a smile that melts her tension. His sweet disposition calms her. He notices the little things—how she shivers, how she blushes, how she hesitates before hanging her scarf by the door. That scarf, left behind by accident later that night, becomes a symbol of the connection they’re building, a connection that feels like fate but is still so fragile.”

After reading the first chapter he just couldn’t function properly. Or that was what he believed in that moment. He felt reflected in that damn character. Recognizing himself through her eyes made him gutted. All the moments she described felt our memories described in so profound detail turned into poetry. His body hair bristled. It was indeed him. Not only physical description but the way he talks to her, those words are specific. He called her ‘cheri’. The way he used to call her. The way he described it all blew his mind. The way she portrayed the first initial moment of your story together. He started to feel like an idiot. He knew you loved him for real, but this just confirms it. The chapter felt like watching an old picture, he could identify when and where but with these many details and specific feelings, it gives the picture another meaning. It's not only a memory. The memory of you became a piece of art. His heart was racing and a knot formed in his throat. He wasn’t  sure if keeping on reading will help him in any way, but curiosity was stronger than he thought and pushed him for another one. At the same time he wondered why he was doing this to himself, but it shows just how he did not close this chapter of his life at all. She was still there hunting him. She was always in the back of his mind.he could hear her talk when he slept. She was still real in his head. By the way, reading all of that just felt like yesterday. 

⋆˚࿔A profound nostalgia for it all𝜗𝜚˚⋆

🧣 ‘chapter two: the forgotten scarf’

‘Months later, the scarf sits in his drawer, forgotten by her but cherished by him. He doesn’t admit to anyone that he keeps it there, hidden under his old T-shirts. For him, it represents the innocence of their beginning, a time when love was simple and pure.

For her, the scarf is a fleeting memory. She remembers leaving it at his sister’s house but doesn’t think much of it. Yet every time the cold wind brushes against her neck, she feels its absence. She misses something she can’t name, and the scarf—though she doesn’t know it—is tied to that feeling. This chapter reflects on the weight of small objects and how they hold memories that people cannot let go of, even when the relationships tethered to them unravel.’

He was sure this chapter was fictional but he was really impressed by the way she portrayed the two faces of the same coin represented by the scarf that was left behind. He kind of thought about all of the presents he gave you, did you still have them? How did they make you feel? Did you still remember the backstory of every single one of them? Or maybe you just burned them after what he did to you. 

🧣 ‘chapter three: an upstate scape’

‘It’s a spontaneous road trip, one of those unplanned adventures that make life feel limitless. They’re driving upstate, the roads winding through fiery autumn landscapes. The protagonist’s wide-eyed wonder contrasts with his confident ease as he navigates the unfamiliar terrain.

They roll the windows down, letting the cold air rush in, mixing with the sound of their voices as they sing along to an old playlist. She looks at him, studying the way his hands grip the steering wheel, how his profile looks against the golden light of the setting sun. For a moment, she believes this is what happiness looks like—two people lost in the simplicity of the moment, away from the world.

As they stop by the side of the road to admire the leaves, she feels a sense of inevitability, as if everything in her life has led to this moment. But there’s an undercurrent of fear too—what if something so perfect is too good to last?’

He had a few tears stuck to his eyes. The way she described that road trip to the mountains just out of curiosity and wanting to get away from all of your responsibilities. You described it just like it happened but put all of your feelings around it. Now, he really knows how you’ve always felt about him back then. If he had any doubts about it, they wear clear ice now. You felt that love looked like him, in that moment, right there, with him. He made you feel happy and he rapid you like that? He just let himself cry. He actually hated himself so much at this moment. 

He couldn’t bear the feeling of what he actually did to you. Because even back then he had already met Alex, because she was a friend of a guy who was friends with him around that time. She was there, he saw her. Yet, he still came back to you everytime until he couldn't resist the temptation. He cheated on you. But that was something he promised to bury with himself. Now, there was no point in mentioning it. He can pretend it never existed. That’s what he thought was the best for everyone. The only one who knew it was Alex and he knew her all too well that she wouldn't be able to say it either because she doesn't look good at all as well. 

He stopped reading. He couldn't anymore, at least for now. He came back to the city, wanting to run away to his house and hide between his pillows. He was a 35 year old man with teenage emotional issues. He felt a bit ashamed. But who could blame him? He dedicated his whole life to racing. That was his job. He didn't have time to reflect on his life decisions until he had to retire due to knee injury during his, actually, last race here, in monaco. How ironic, where everything began, everything ended. 

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The house was really quiet when he arrived. The weather was colder than expected. Wind started to blow a bit violently. He closed all of his windows and got into his pajamas. He wasn’t that hungry so that was all for the day. He took the book with him, not sure if he wanted to keep reading but he saw Arthur's messages to his story on instagram and he stayed rambling about it. What if he took just a few minutes to read the following chapter and break his heart for once and all? Was he scared? Yes, he was scared to death. She was in fact way too good with words, touching all of his soft or injured spots. 

He sled into bed making himself comfortable, as if it could keep him sane. He grabbed a pillow to hug and the book after putting on his reading glasses. He needed to hold something onto him. He felt really lonely. He felt miserable. He lost you over stupid and superficial feelings, when you were there waiting for him to marry you. 

He didn’t know if he’ll be able to forgive himself for it.

⋆˚࿔The pain of feeling reflected𝜗𝜚˚⋆

🧣  ‘chapter four: are you real?’

‘The story takes a deeper dive into their personalities. The protagonist is curious and eager, a dreamer who sees beauty in the smallest details. She notices the way his laugh lines crease when he smiles and the tenderness in his voice when he talks about his family. She feels like a child discovering the world through him.

He is steady and calm, but there’s a sadness in his eyes that she can’t quite place. He has a sweet disposition that masks his fear of vulnerability. This chapter explores how they balance each other—her lightness lifting his heaviness, his groundedness keeping her from floating away.

Their differences are part of what draws them together, but as the chapter closes, subtle hints suggest that these differences might also be what pulls them apart.’

🧣 ‘chapter five: the begging of the end’ 

‘A seemingly insignificant moment becomes pivotal. They’re driving through a quaint little town, the kind of place where time feels slower. She’s pointing out the decorations in the shop windows when he glances over at her, his eyes filled with something unspoken.

“Watch the road!” she laughs, but her heart skips a beat. He almost runs a red light, and they both burst into nervous laughter. The thrill of it, the recklessness, mirrors the intensity of their feelings.

As they walk down the town’s main street later, hand in hand, she feels invincible. The wind tangles her hair, and the crisp air fills her lungs. It’s a moment she knows she’ll remember forever, even if she doesn’t understand why it feels so significant at the time.’

🧣 ‘chapter six: enough for you’ 

‘This chapter brings the reader into his family home, a place filled with the echoes of his childhood. His mother pulls out a photo album, eager to share stories. The protagonist learns about the little boy he used to be—a shy kid with glasses who loved baseball but never quite fit in.

As she listens, she starts to piece together the man she loves, seeing how his past shaped him. But she also feels a pang of sadness. He talks about his dreams, but there’s a hesitation in his voice, as if he’s unsure of his place in the world. She wonders if she can be the person who helps him find it, but the weight of that responsibility begins to settle on her.’

Between a few lines he had to take breaks.but he couldn't stop reading. He needed more and more, addicted to the words and how she portrayed his attitudes towards her. Feeling addicted to the pain of seeing himself like that. He was an asshole. All because he believed something that was a lie he fabricated to private himself of something real. To push her away. To Protect him from getting hurt. What you had was beautiful but he had to break it. It was too beautiful to be real, he thought. He was insecure and scared. Scared of how much feelings he had for you and how much power that implied. He read every single page slowly, catching up every reference to you, to him, to what you called ‘ours’ so dearly. He fucked it up. He really fucked it up. 

He just needed a break from it. He decided to take a shower and go to sleep or try to. Now, he couldn't stop seeing your face with mascara falling down your face along with your tears the day he left. The day he left you and all of his most vulnerable parts of him with you. 

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Two days passed by really quickly in his opinion. He couldn’t dare to read another word from that fucking book until now. He woke up feeling ready again to confront the worst part of it. And to do so, as he likes to be his own biggest enemy, he went to the coffee shop that once was the restaurant he left you behind in. It was a pretty masochistic maneuver. But he didn't care anymore. After what he read the other day, his heart was already broken knowing how much he broke you down and didn't realize it sooner. 

It was a really cold, windy and grey day in monaco. He hated this weather so much. He went by foot, taking his time to do some breathing techniques that could help his anxiety. He looked dead in his opinion. Immsonio has been his best friend these past few days. He just didn't want to close his eyes knowing all he would see was your face. How you didn't smile at him back that afternoon. How you cried when he left you for another woman. And your smile when he asked you the first time. It's been 10 years, yet he didn't forget about the way your skin felt when he touched you, what used to be your favorite movie and how he always remembered you when he passed by a flower shop because you used to love flowers so much. And as his mission used to be to make you happy, he would buy you flowers everyday if he could. 

He slapped himself out of his mind when he realized he was thinking too much about you and the past, torturing himself with every random memory he could come up with. He really felt his brain hated him even though he is the one in control anyway. 

He stepped in the coffee shop making the bell on the door sound. It was chilly and there were only a few people. Fortunately it wasn't crowded so if he cried no one would notice. 

He chose to sit at the last table, on the darkest corner. He wanted to feel safe, and that spot made him feel he was very well hidden. He was playing so many mind games just to survive his own mind and emotions lately. 

He got comfy on his chair made out of chiffon. It was good, he thought. He was nervous. He in the deepest place of his heart, coming here was just to see you again. And maybe run to you and beg you to forgive him. But that was only a movie that played nonstop in his brain. You were nowhere to be found. He hoped you chose this place regularly to write as you were that day he saw you, but apparently it was just his imagination. Now he was sure you only came here on occasions or maybe that was the only time you came. Why would you come regularly to the place where he tore your life apart? He was sure you weren’t as masochistic as he was. You were the sane one, he bet. Probably you had a boyfriend who truly loved you and made plans with your nephews, like going to the beach and chasing birds or picnics at the square. You loved picnics and being outdoors. You wrote that down in your books. You were the only person he knew that enjoyed road trips so much. Just sitting there, observing everything, chatting and doing carpool karaoke. He remembered on a road trip like that he kissed you for the first time. You had that friends to lovers story. You don't trust people that easily. It was hard for you to lose your dad a year before he did. You didn't have that many friends. You were really reserved yet so sweet to everyone. You were just really selective. You didn't want to get attached to the wrong people. And then there he was, breaking everything apart: your trust, your self esteem, everything.

God, he hated himself. He hated himself so much he kept on reading right there where he ruined his life, your life. 

⋆˚࿔Pain in real time𝜗𝜚˚⋆

🧣 ‘chapter seven: ticking bomb’

‘It’s late at night, and they’re in his tiny apartment, dancing to a song playing softly from the radio. The refrigerator hums in the background, casting a dim light that bathes them in warmth.

She feels safe here, wrapped in his arms, laughing as he spins her around. It’s one of those moments where the rest of the world fades away, and all that exists is the two of them.

But as the music fades, a sense of fragility creeps in. She wonders if happiness like this can last or if it’s destined to slip through her fingers like everything else she’s ever loved.’

🧣 ‘chapter eight: lost in translation’

‘Misunderstandings begin to pile up. They argue over small things that feel bigger than they are. She starts to question if she’s asking for too much—more time, more effort, more love. He grows distant, retreating into his thoughts, unable to articulate what’s wrong.

This chapter captures the slow unraveling of their relationship, the way love can be chipped away by silence and unspoken words. They’re still together, but the cracks are starting to show’.

He was fighting his tears but he promised he will be strong. Biting his lip became an usual because of anxiety, he thought his lips would fall out. This time around he highlighted every phrase that caught his attention. He wanted to remember how such of a dick he was. 

She felt too much.

And he felt too little. 

They really got lost in translation. He was scared he became cold, she was so in love she became desperate. He didn't realize that and he was sure she didn't know what he was going through. He felt lame. If only he would have talked about it. Communication is a skill he didn't have back then, but did he have it now? He was no better with Alex but at least he was real and didn't cheat on her. 

That didn't make him feel better either. He was guilty, very guilty. Hands dirty. How would he even try to talk to her again? He was sure he didn't deserve her. After all this damage she wouldn’t even be near him like that. Yeah, he was considering what Carlos told him but to be fair he felt it was impossible.

The waitress left his coffee on the table and thanked her with a half smile. He thought she recognized him even though he was going grey already. But she didn't say anything and left him to enjoy his coffee and croissant. And his book of course though he looked really gutted. 

🧣 ‘chapter nine: a crumpled up piece of paper’

‘The breakup is devastating. He calls her, his voice cold and detached, and ends it with a blunt honesty that feels like a knife to her chest.

She’s left reeling, feeling like a crumpled piece of paper discarded on the floor. This chapter delves into her grief, the way heartbreak can make time feel endless and unbearable. She tries to forget him, but every corner of her world is filled with reminders’

She felt like a thing, an object. A broken record. An insignificant piece of paper. Of course he cried. He even brought his handkerchieves. 

He remembered he couldn't be there any longer. He just wanted to run away and he did. And that was selfish as hell. Incredibly selfish. He was so much thinking about himself and his feelings he forgot that she was part of the relationship too. That she also had feelings. He didn’t even let her ask him whatever she needed. He left her there eating her own words. He sobbed a little in silence hiding on his arm on the table trying to calm himself down. When did he think coming here to read this was even a good idea to begin with?

‘and i know it’s long gone and that magic’s not here no more’

‘You taught me about your past, thinking your future was me’ 

‘You kept me like a secret, but i kept you like an oath’

‘You called me up again just to break me like a promise. So casually cruel in the name of being honest’

‘They say all’s well that ends well, but i’m a new hell every time’

‘The idea you had of me, who was she? A never-needy , ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you’ 

Those last sentences ended with him. It was the worst one of them all. She confirmed he was selfish as fuck.  That made him so mad at himself. He felt ashamed and disappointed. Like, how can people actually love him? He had to disagree with carlo. He was indeed a monster. He was so distraught he had to leave that damn coffee shop as soon as possible. He left the money for everything he didn't even have and tip on top, and sprinted out of there just like you did when you saw him. How could he blame you? He was running scared from himself at that moment.or he tried because unfortunately he couldn't stop being himself. And accepting all of this was the hardest part. Arthur didn't give him a disclaimer and maybe that was the plan all along but now he was angry with him. Although he knew the only guilty was him. he also kept you like a secret, he didn't tell anyone about you. he was guilt of all charges. and he wasn't proud of himself for doing so.

⋆˚࿔ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ 

The next few days, he came back every time to that coffee shop. Almost everyday. Desperate at the thought that maybe he would find you there. He didn't have a clue of what he would do if he saw you, but for some odd reason he wanted to see you. He didn't know anything about you. He didnt know which places you frequented. Neither where would you like to spend your time rather than your house. 

Of course, he didn't see you. And on one hand he was relieved but at the same time tortured. He gave up my tuesday. It was a beautiful sunny day. He came to visit Carlos and when he left home he decided he was gonna end the book. He was avoiding the balcony, your garden. Though, your house was really quiet, almost as if you weren't there. Maybe you didn't have your special someone yet. Or maybe you did and you were on holiday. 

He stopped himself from keeping on wondering nonsense shit he didn't know if it was real or not. He sat down on the sofas Carlos had near the pool with a blanket and a bottle of water. The sun was keeping him warm. The booked shined being reflected. He did unconsciously look over to your house as quietly as a few minutes ago when he last checked. It’s been two weeks since he last saw you. Or minutes ago when he sees you everytime he closes his eyes. 

⋆˚࿔ Self evaluation and reflection 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

🧣 ‘chapter ten: time stands still’ 

‘Weeks turn into months, but time feels frozen. The protagonist struggles to move on, yearning for her old self—the person she was before she met him. She looks back on the “plaid shirt days” when everything felt simpler and wonders if she’ll ever feel whole again’.

Reading this chapter sent shivers down his spine. Hefelt she was describing exactly how he felt at that moment. The only difference in this book was writing at least 7 years ago (he googled you. You were pretty famous and he didn't know that), and he was feeling this right now. 

He wanted to go back in time and stay there, in the days he would wake up by your kisses and spend the days in bed laughing and gossiping about anything and everything. Back when innocence was part of your bond, so pure that it felt unbreakable. 

So sad it was just a feeling and not a fact. 

He wanted to punch himself in the face right there and then.

🧣 ‘chapter eleven: what was left’

‘From his perspective, the scarf remains a constant reminder of her. He can’t bring himself to throw it away because it still smells like her. It represents the innocence they lost, the love he didn’t know how to hold onto.

The chapter alternates between their perspectives, showing how they’re both haunted by the past in different ways.’

He laughed. How ironic life can be sometimes, right? This felt worse than the Ferrari strategy. But it felt real just like them. He couldn’t believe that even though she didn't know anything about him except from what she could see on the internet or tv, she knew perfectly how he felt. He was in a kind of panic. How could she?

🧣 ‘chapter twelve: back before we lost the one real thing we’ve ever known’ 

‘The protagonist revisits their happiest moments, remembering the rare connection they shared. She acknowledges that even though it’s gone, it was real, and that’s what makes it so hard to let go.’

‘I’d like to be my old shelf again but I’m still trying to find her’

‘And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue?’

‘There we are again when I love you so, back before we lost the one real thing we’ve ever known’

He closed the book for a moment. Hanging into the mixed feeling he carried. He was looking nowhere. Deep thinking. She captured things he didn't understand until he read them. How? It was something so special, why? Why did I let her down? So many questions to so few limited answers. 

⋆˚࿔Admiration𝜗𝜚˚⋆

🧣 ‘chapter thirteen: remembering all too well’

‘The book closes with her accepting the weight of her memories. She realizes she doesn’t have to forget to move on. The love, the pain, the lessons—they’re all part of her story now. And while she’ll always remember it all too well, she’s ready to step forward into the unknown’.

He finally finished the book. It took you two weeks to go through it all. All he could think was ‘wow’. This was incredibly hard to read but how brave of her to write all of this. How strong she had to be. How brave to be so vulnerable. That’s something he won’t ever comprehend, he is so scared of being vulnerable. Always trying to be tight and invincible. It helped in racing but in life really complex things took place, not so much. 

He felt admiration, as the first time he saw you painting at the beach a beautiful piece of art. He wondered if you still paint. How ironic he left you for Alex, he thought. Even though he knew all of this was fictional, he knew you. Or he likes to think he does. He knew all of the phrases and thought that fit your character perfectly. He knew it was him and she was you. He was so trapped in his own feelings that he didn't realize how much you were giving to him. You gave him your everything and more. Now he gets it. It was incredible to him you created art with the pain he put you under. And even if he hated himself for that, he felt kind of grateful he could contribute to such a beautiful thing like this one. 

The love that was once there, he knew it still there. He knew all too well he felt it.

As he fell in love with you all over again.

“Charlie, mi amor! It's party night tonight! Woohoooo!” Carlos came out of nowhere and jumped on him funny, scaring him for a second.

“A party? On a tuesday?” Charles was confused but couldn't help laughing. Carlos always makes him laugh and his friendship was really important to him. He always likes to say to Carlos it’s the best thing racing gave him. 

“Why not pup? Don’t be old. When was your last party? You’re getting grey and anciano, help yourself a bit with vodka man! And women” he said with a mischievous smile moving his eyebrows at him funny. Charles laughed, shaking his head.

“Alright, alright. Let’s have fun for once” he surrendered to his friend and his ideas. 

“Woohoo. Get ready, we’ll go to buy everything right now. And Charles, please, get rid of that book mate. You need to move on" Carlos said to his best friend disappearing into the house leaving Charles alone again. 

“I wish i could” he said under his breath resigned and grabbed the book going into the house and left it on his backup. he thought it was a bit contradicting of what he told him a few nights ago but carlos tends to change his mind very quickly about things so it was no surprise for charles. 

Carlos was already waiting for him at the door shaking the keys of his ferrari on his fingers making charles laugh.

⋆˚࿔ TO BE CONTINUED 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

chapter four: here.

tag list: : @a-beaverhausen , @priniya , @annaluna12 , @thehoplessromanticclub , @emryb , @hadids-world , @kaztheemyth , @freyathehuntress , @diorbrxtz , @theseerbetweenus , @sie17136 , @leila-030304 , @charlesgirl16

author's note: writing this made me sad :( this took me so long to write my eyes hurt, but want it to be good <3

do we or do we not sympathize with charlie? i'll read you 👀

(sonny thank you for giving me this idea)

don't forget to reblog, comment or like! and follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

[natsukicookies]

The sinful allure

Summary

What you thought was the life of a side character turned out to be the life of the main character!

On your 18th birthday, you discover you're a succubus, and everything you thought you knew about yourself changes.

What’s more, your newfound powers don’t just come with supernatural abilities—they make you act... different. Flirty, confident, and completely unlike your usual shy self.

As if that wasn’t enough, the Batboys have somehow gotten tangled in your life. Balancing secrets, powers, and the chaos they bring? Yeah, happy birthday to you.

< masterlist > chap 1

Your eyes couldn’t leave your phone’s screen as they were locked onto the calendar app. You eyed a specific date with barely contained anticipation noticing that your birthday was approaching. In just a few days, you would turn 18. You were finally going to be an adult. You weren't sure if you felt excited or anxious-maybe a little of both.

With a sigh, you tried to focus back on the teacher's lecture, though your mind was elsewhere.

Turning 18 meant you'd finally be the same age as everyone else in your year.

The class ended, before you realise that, whatever the teacher spoke went in one ear and out the other, Fantastic! Now you were clueless about the chapter and would have to head to the library to study. "Just amazing," you muttered sarcastically under your breath.

As you left the classroom, someone bumped into you in a hurry. "Sorry!" the guy called out as he rushed past. You recognized him instantly-Tim Drake, one of Bruce Wayne's adopted sons, and one of the richest guys in Gotham.

He's one of the 3rd years, in the computer science major, same as you. The two of you even share some of your classes. And yet despite this.

You hadn't talked to him, or really to anyone at this college if you were to be honest. You were more of an introvert... wait, don’t introverts also have friends, but you didn't. A small laugh escaped you at the thought.

It wasn't always like this though,. You used to have friends, but then COVID happened, and all your social skills vanished. There wasn’t much to begin with, but it dropped to zero after that.

And iIf that wasn't bad enough, your mom got transferred to another city for her work, and guess what? It was Gotham City, the crime capital. Thankfully, the one year you'd spent here had been normal,well as normal as it could be in Gotham.

Being suddenly moved, in the middle of your last year of high school mind you, wasn't great. By the time you arrived everyone had their own friend groups, and you didn't fit into any of them. Your lack of social skills not helping either.

High school came and went, college started, but your chances of making friends? Nope, that still seemed like a pipe dream that would never happen.

You headed to your next class, passing the art club where you overheard people talking about Damian Wayne.

Another Wayne? You rolled your eyes at the name. You weren't really fond of the rich kids- most of them weren't great.

But then again, this was Gotham State University, and a lot of rich kids were here. To this day, you still had no idea how your mom managed to get you into this college. Did her job really pay that much? Definitely not.

Not caring much about it, you took a seat in an empty spot and watched the day fly by.

That was your norm- going to college, judge people,head home to do your course work and other stuff, then repeat, it was a cycle

It was seriously boring.

Guess that's the life of a side character for you.

Your attention shifted as you heard your name being called by your mom. "Are you still wearing that pendant?" Of course, that was the question she always asked. You knew her obsession with that pendant all too well. Whenever you were asked, she would respond with, "You must wear that pendant forever and never take it off, even for a second."

At this point, you were used to it, but still, her asking the same question every week for years kind of got on your nerves. "Yes, Mom, I am." You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you continued to watch TV.

Your mom did her usual routine, reminding you not to open the door for strangers (typical mom) and telling you what food was in the refrigerator before heading off to work.

Your mom was hardly home; like 90% of the time, she was at work. You didn't blame her for that now that you were older. She was a single mom working hard to support both of you.

Well, you tried not to blame her, at least. But there were still those moments.

Now the movie you were watching didn't seem fun anymore because of those thoughts. Cursing under your breath, you turned off the TV and headed to your room, passing by the mirror.

Stopping in your tracks and stepping back, you stared at your reflection. You looked normal; nothing seemed out of place, but you could have sworn you saw something whilst walking past it.

You shrugged it off and went to your room, chalking it up to your imagination.

The next few days went by and it's the night before your birthday. You're alone in the house, because of course your mom has work to take care of.

The next few days passed in a blur, and soon it was the night before your birthday. You were alone in the house, of course, since your mom had to work -again.

You were her only child, yet she didn't even have time for your 18th birthday. "Amazing mom," you muttered, trying to push down the bitterness creeping in. You scrolled aimlessly through your phone, distracting yourself from the thoughts swirling in your mind.

You watched the clock hit 11:48 and decided you might as well get that cupcake out and blow some candles- that's the only thing you can blow anyway.

As you moved around the kitchen, you kept catching glimpses of strange things out of the corner of your eye-like objects floating slightly before settling down. But every time you turned, everything seemed perfectly normal.

You shook your head, Maybe you were getting sleepy? You really hoped that was the case because you were not up for a ghost fight on your birthday.

By the time you set up the cupcake, the clock read 11:58. Just two more minutes, and you'd officially be 18- meaning you won't be able to use your 'sir I'm a minor' card but hey, you could at least legally drink wine now... if you could afford any.

You quickly lit up the candle and waited till the clock hit 12

"Happy birthday to me" you wished right on midnight as you closed your eyes to blow out the candle "I hope for a change this year"

Opening your eyes expecting to see the same old living room only to be met with a pair of bloody red eyes staring at you from High up.

A wave of fear washed over you making your body freeze. As you took in your surroundings, you were indeed not in your living room anymore. This wasn’t what you meant when you wished for a change this year...

"Worry not, my child," a deep voice echoed. you can't see its face or what it is, all you see is a shadow like figure on a throne which was placed on.... your eyes widened as you realized it was human skulls.

Oh you were a goner, you just knew it.

"You are not a goner" Did he- guessing by the voice- read your thoughts? You weren't even gonna question how, none of this was making sense so it's better to just not use the logical side of your brain and just roll with it.

"You must have a lot of questions," he spoke, amusement clear in his voice, as he rested his cheek on his hand.

You nodded, you definitely did.

"Good, let's add one more" he pointed at you, more specifically at your clothes.

"Huh?" You looked down and felt your face heat up. Your outfit wasn't the one you'd been wearing-it was something much more revealing, leaving you scrambling to cover yourself with your hands.

"What is going on?" you stammered, cheeks flushed.

The figure burst into laughter, seeming to enjoy your reaction a little too much. Finally, after calming down, he explained.

According to him, you were a succubus. A... what now?!

And hence the reason for things floating around in the air and you seeing stuff in the mirror.

Did it make sense? No, absolutely not. Was he gonna explain more? It didn't seem like it.

"So you’re saying.... that I have to have.... sex with.... guys now?" you asked, cutting to the question weighing on your mind

"Girls work too," he replied you could hear the smirk from his tone.

Your jaw dropped at his casual response. "Girls work too"? This was insane. You barely managed to talk to people as it was, and now you were expected to seduce them? The thought alone made you want to dig a hole and hide in it.

"So, let me get this straight," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You're telling me that, overnight, I turned into... a succubus. And now I have to... you know... with people? Just to survive?"

The shadow figure leaned back in his throne, still smirking. "That's the short version, yes. But it's not quite as dire as you're imagining." He seemed amused, as if he could see the whirlwind of emotions playing out on your face. "You'll get used to it. Besides, a succubus's charm is automatic. Your appeal will increase naturally, even without you trying."

You blinked, taking a shaky breath. This was all too much. "But why me? Why now? I've gone my whole life without... without feeling like this."

"That's the way it works," he said simply. "Eighteen is the age when your powers awaken. And now that they have, you'll start to feel new urges and... influences."

Influences? That didn't sound reassuring.

"Here's how it works," he continued, clearly enjoying your unease. "When you're in your succubus form, your personality will shift to help you attract... let's say, energy sources. You won't even recognize yourself. And in your regular form, you'll be-"

"Shy and quiet?" you guessed dryly, crossing your arms over your revealing outfit. "Because that's how I normally am."

"Precisely," he replied, giving you an almost fatherly nod. "But in your other form, you'll become... well, let's call it 'confident.' All of this will be second nature soon enough."

This wasn't exactly reassuring, but you nodded, still struggling to process everything. Then a thought struck you, and you bit your lip. "So... if I need energy, does that mean I... you know... with anyone who-"

"Relax," he cut in smoothly. "You don't have to go that far if you're not comfortable with it. Succubi draw energy in a lot of ways: touch, presence, even just eye contact. What matters is connection. The deeper the connection, the stronger the energy you receive."

You let out a sigh of relief. That, at least, took some pressure off. But even then, none of this felt remotely possible for you.

"How will I even know when to... when to switch forms or get energy? I have no idea what I'm doing!"

The figure let out an amused chuckle "Ah, but that's the fun of it, isn't it? You'll learn as you go. The instincts are within you, even if they're dormant right now. When you need them, they'll surface."

He rose from his throne, the shadowy shape growing even larger as he seemed to loom over you. "And remember, child," he said, his voice suddenly serious. "You have a gift. Use it wisely-and sparingly. Too much charm, too quickly, could draw attention... and not the good kind."

With that final ominous warning, he snapped his fingers, and the room around you began to swirl and blur, as if reality itself was being pulled out from under your feet.

Before you could react, you found yourself back in your living room, alone and staring at the cupcake in front of you, the candle still flickering.

You blinked, heart racing. "Did that... really happen?"

Just then, your phone buzzed, snapping you back to reality. A birthday text from your mom.

You ignored the message and blew out the candle, the excitement from earlier completely drained. As you reached out to remove the candle, you froze. Your clothes... they hadn't changed back to normal.

So, that really did happen...

Heart pounding, you ran to the mirror. Standing in front of it, you realized two things. First: you actually looked... really hot. And second: your appearance had changed. Your eyes were now a striking pink, and small, barely-there horns peeked out from the top of your head.

Curious, you reached up to touch one of them- only to let out a surprised whine. Sensitive. Those little horns were tiny but extremely sensitive.

"How do I change back to normal?" you muttered with a nervous laugh,thinking of every scenario this could go wrong.

Shoulders slumping, you trudged back to your cupcake, peeled off the wrapper, and stuffed the whole thing into your mouth. You probably looked like a chipmunk, but who cared? You had bigger problems-like, for instance, the horns or the bright pink eyes.

As you chewed, you couldn't help but wonder who-or what-that shadowy figure was. He seemed to know way more than he was letting on.

But... how exactly were you supposed to summon him again? You tried doing a strange little "summoning dance," waving your arms around in a circle, but nothing happened.

Wait a second. Weren't succubus supposed to have superpowers? That would be amazing! You'd always wanted powers like Superman or Wonder Woman.

The real problem was... how on earth were you supposed to activate these so-called powers?

Stepping out onto the balcony, you stared at... the wall across from you. Not the most inspiring view-just the brick wall of the building next door, practically in arm's reach. You let out a sigh. "Well, it's not like I'm swinging across rooftops anytime soon," you muttered.

Still... maybe you could try something. Like super strength! Or maybe some kind of powerful leap? Not that you were about to actually jump off the balcony- you weren't that reckless, but if you had powers, how were you supposed to... what, think power on? Activate?

You stretched your arms forward dramatically. "Powers, activate!" Nothing happened. You waved your hands around a bit, wiggled your fingers, even struck a ridiculous pose for good measure. Nada.

"Well, that's disappointing," you grumbled, heading back inside quietly before anyone saw you looking like a wannabe superhero.

Or so you tried to-until you stepped right onto that one loose board on the balcony. The next thing you knew, your ankle twisted in the ridiculously high heels that came with this outfit, and suddenly, you were tilting forward with nothing to grab onto.

And just like that, you found yourself tumbling over the edge.

"Oh, crap! Crap, crap, crap!" you screamed in panic as you fall from the third floor, arms flailing like a bird that had no idea how to fly.

Your mind raced in pure panic as the ground rushed closer. 'This is it' you thought. You just became a succubus and You're about to be a splat on the pavement. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for impact.

But... it never came.

Instead, you felt a strange pull at your core, and you slowed down, hovering just a few feet above the ground. You opened your eyes cautiously, and sure enough, you were floating there mid-air, bobbing slightly like a very confused balloon.

You blinked, stunned. "Did I... just fly?"

Testing it out, you tried to move forward. You wobbled awkwardly, managing to drift a few feet before tilting sideways, nearly tipping over. Okay, this was gonna take some practice.

Still floating, you managed to get back up to your balcony, though not without a few embarrassing bumps along the way.-we don't talk about that- When you finally got back over the railing and landed safely, you let out a deep breath, half-relieved, half-excited.

"So I have powers," you muttered, grinning in spite of yourself.

And behold, this was the moment a very dumb idea went through your head. Did I mention it was dumb? Because, yeah, it was very dumb.

Without a second thought, you decided you might as well check out Gotham at night. Hey, it was a great excuse to test out your powers, right?

With that brilliant thought in mind, you stepped onto the railing of your balcony and, this time, willingly jumped off. Floating in midair, you felt that thrill again-flying was actually getting easier! Or, so you thought. One glance to the left, and suddenly you were veering off course, wobbling wildly as you struggled to stay steady.

You almost crashed right into the huge Wayne Enterprises billboard, narrowly avoiding it by flailing your arms and kicking your legs like a panicked duck.

You found yourself butt-landing onto a fire escape, the metal steps clanging loud enough to make you wince. So much for a graceful first flight.

"Ow," you muttered, rubbing your sore backside. At least you didn't end up face-first in a dumpster. That was something, right?

You pushed yourself up, dusted off, and looked around to make sure no one had seen that very professional landing.

Thankfully, this part of Gotham is usually empty half the time, sparing you from total embarrassment.

You considered that maybe flying wasn't the best idea after all, so you opted for the stairs instead-only to regret that decision a second later.

Those metal stairs combined with your high, pointy heels-which you had no idea how you managed to walk in-were a disaster waiting to happen. Your heels kept getting stuck in the small gaps between the stairs, turning what should have been a simple task into a clumsy game of balance.

Somehow, you managed to get down the stairs and stayed in the shadows, not wanting to attract unwanted attention. As you walked, you stumbled upon what appeared to be a bank robbery.

The bank was small, tucked away in a shady area-no wonder there were no police around. Let's be honest: the police in Gotham really don't do shit anyway. And God knows where vigilantes were...

You gripped the little clothing you had on, your feet glued to the floor-not because of the metal stairs this time, but out of sheer hesitation.

Here's the thing: you may have newfound powers, but you weren't a vigilante. You had no idea how to fight or even how to use your abilities yet. Rushing in recklessly to save people you didn't even know? Not the best plan.

Plus, Batman or one of his allies would probably show up and handle the situation, right?

That was the plan, right...?

Then a loud scream echoed through the air, followed by a gunshot, and your heart stopped. Someone could be dead right now, and you had the power to save them.

But you weren't a vigilante; you were merely a succubus, a very new one too.

"Go," a calm but familiar voice echoed in your ear, and before you could process what was happening, you found yourself sprinting toward the bank. Peering through the windows, you spotted three masked men holding a few bank staff hostage. Luckily, there weren't any customers inside-thankfully, they were closed for the night.

If you remembered correctly, the shadow figure had mentioned that you had the ability to charm people. Maybe that could come in handy?

Glancing around, you searched for a way in. The front door was clearly not an option, and as you walked around the building, you didn't find a back door either. But then, you spotted it: a bathroom window just large enough for you to squeeze through.

Were you seriously about to do this?

You took a deep breath, letting the anticipation wash over you. "You're supposed to do crazy things on your 18th birthday, right?" With an awkward laugh, you opened the window and began to climb in-only to find yourself stuck halfway through, your legs kicking awkwardly as you tried to free yourself.

"Yeah no I'm not going to end up being the stuck stepsister of the night," you muttered, finally wriggling yourself free and tumbling into the small bathroom with a thud.

You glanced around, taking a moment to catch your breath. "Okay, focus," you whispered to yourself.

It seemed the loud thud had caught the attention of one of the thieves, and the door swung open to reveal one of them standing in front of you, gun in hand.

"Um..." you stammered awkwardly, standing there like a deer caught in headlights. How were you supposed to charm this guy again?

You tried winking-after all, that's what people do to charm someone, right?

"Who the fuck are you?" he growled, his expression a mix of confusion and irritation.

Yep, that didn't work at all. You were definitely done for.

"I... I'm just a girl," you blurted out, trying to sound as harmless as possible.

But instead of calming him down, your words seemed to fuel his anger. He raised the gun and fired, but thankfully, you managed to duck just in time, letting out a small scream as you covered your head with your arms.

"Actually... you don't look so bad," he said, his eyes darkening as he sized you up with a new, unsettling interest.

You cringed at his words, hearing his footsteps approach as he towered over your crouched form. Just as he leaned in to grab you, you shot up, your head colliding with his chin. He staggered backward and dropped to the floor, completely knocked out.

Wait... did that actually work? That hadn't exactly been your plan, but hey, you weren't complaining.

Seeing him sprawled out on the ground made you feel a spark of confidence. You grinned and stepped over his unconscious form, making sure to grind your heel into the hand that had nearly grabbed you. "Oh," you muttered, noticing his gun. Quickly, you grabbed it-you might need a little extra help.

Alright, one down, two more to go.

Peeking out the door, you saw one of the other robbers tapping his foot impatiently. "What's taking that idiot so long?" he grumbled, glancing around.

Most of the bank staff were tied up, while two unlucky ones were filling a bag with cash at gunpoint. You bit your lip, trying to think. Maybe you could lure one of them away? You definitely can't two men at once, especially since this was your first time.

"Where are the vigilantes when you need them?" you mumbled, pressing your face into your palm in frustration. "If only I could turn invisible..."

Suddenly, you noticed your hand start to go translucent. You stared, wide-eyed, as the rest of your body began fading too. "I'm not freaking out... I'm not freaking out... I'm freaking out!" you whispered to yourself, resisting the urge to yell.

You'd wanted to turn invisible, but this was surreal-like being a ghost!

Were you going to complain? Absolutely not. After your momentary panic, a wicked grin spread across your face. you rubbed your hands together like a fly- wait why like a fly?

You crept out of the door without a sound, approaching one of the robbers. With a swift punch to his face, he crumpled to the ground, catching the attention of his partner. Before he could react, you followed up with a well-placed kick to his...pp area. Both men went down, groaning on the floor.

Quickly, you gathered their weapons, but after glancing around, you realized you didn't have any rope or anything to tie them up with. Letting out a sigh, you began thinking of your next move, when your ears picked up stood steps approaching.

It seems your senses have been improved.

The front doors burst open, and a vigilante strode in. You quietly tiptoed to the side, raising an eyebrow. What kind of hero just barges in through the front door? You rolled your eyes, watching as he surveyed the scene in confusion.

Just as you thought you could slip out, he whipped out a baton and threw it your way. "Wha-!" You barely managed to dodge it, shooting him side eyes.

"Can't have you sneaking away now, can I?" he said smoothly, his gaze following your movement. Wait... could he see you? You glanced down, still invisible. How did he know?

Picking your jaw off the floor, you started to say something, but quickly changed your mind. He was nightwing, trained by Batman himself, so of course he'd sense someone was there.

You let out a small sigh and turned off your invisibility, meeting his now slightly widened eyes. He recovered quickly, though, looking unfazed.

"There's one unconscious in the bathroom," you said confidently, gesturing with a nod toward the door.

He glanced down at the two men on the ground, too dazed to move. "You... did all this?"

You nodded, but before he could ask another question, you bolted toward the door-or at least, you tried to. Just as you were about to step outside, his hand shot out, grabbing you firmly and stopping you in your tracks.

"Ah-!" you squeaked, pausing with a pout. "I'm not a villain," you insisted, crossing your arms with as much indignation as you could muster.

He raised an eyebrow. "Then who are you?"

You blinked, holding his gaze, before a mischievous smirk spread across your face. Your eyes glowed a little more pink as you leaned in, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "The girl who's going to haunt your dirtiest dreams."

Before he could even react, you somehow slipped out of his grip, leaving him standing there bewildered as you sprinted out of the bank.

Not looking back, you floated all the way back to your apartment, bumping into things left and right. Each impact made you cringe a little harder-not just from the bumps, but from the embarrassing line you'd dropped earlier. "The girl who will appear in your dirtiest dream?" Seriously? You wanted to disappear just thinking about it.

As soon as you got inside, you headed straight for the couch, burying your face in a pillow with a groan. The scene replayed in your head on a loop for a good 30 minutes before you finally managed to shift your focus to something else: how on earth to turn back to normal.

Rolling onto your side, you caught a glint of something under the coffee table. Reaching out lazily, you pulled it closer and realized it was the pendant-the one you were supposed to keep on you at all times. Without thinking, you slipped it back around your neck.

And just like that, your clothes transformed back to normal.

You rushed over to the mirror and sure enough, you looked like yourself again-mostly. Your eyes still held a slight hint of pink, but you doubted anyone would notice.

Curious, you decided to test your theory. Taking off the pendant, you watched as the tiny horns reappeared. So that was the trick!

"Oh, cool" you mumbled under your breath, putting it back on.

Maybe it was the adrenaline finally wearing off, or the sheer chaos of tonight catching up with you, but you felt yourself teetering on the edge of exhaustion, just one step away from crashing right there in the living room.

But no-somehow, you managed to scrape together the last bit of energy to drag yourself toward your bedroom. Your steps were slow, heavy, almost zombie-like. If anyone saw you now, they might actually mistake you for the undead, stumbling down the hall with only the thought of collapsing on your bed keeping you moving.

You let out a tired sigh, replaying flashes of the night in your mind. The discovery, the thrill, the whole insane twist your life took in just a few short hours. And now...you were supposed to go back to normal? Act like this was just another day at college?

Flopping onto your bed, you closed your eyes, leaving the problems to the future you to deal with as you let the sleep fairy take you to the dreamland.

Yall thank @purplexing-writing-and-concepts for beta reading it <33

I have no idea when chap 1 will be out, hopefully in a month or so.

✎ ∙︓⋅⠄✯∘⠄✧

Taglist: @xingyunny @4rachn3

[mydearestbeloved]

Chapter 12 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

CW:

Inspired by @circeyoru ‘s “Future Power Couple”

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

Jinwoo stood outside the quaint greenhouse-like shop, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight before him. To anyone else, it appeared like an ordinary, if charming, flower shop nestled quietly in an inconspicuous part of the city. But he knew better. He knew that behind this innocent façade lay the entrance to your domain—one that he could only enter with your permission.

The last time he had brought up wanting to visit you on his own terms, you had told him bluntly: to access your domain, an outsider needed explicit permission each time from its master. For someone like him, who had grown accustomed to breaking into the dens of monsters and overcoming barriers, the thought of requiring an invitation had been oddly humbling. Yet, here he was, his hand reaching out to push open the glass door.

The moment his fingers touched the handle, the world around him seemed to ripple. The shop’s interior wavered like a mirage, Colors blurred together, softening at the edges, until he found himself no longer within the confines of the quaint flower shop but in the secluded tranquility of your garden.

The air was fresher, filled with the scent of flowers and damp earth, the sunlight softer than that of the real world. It really was a realm where time flowed differently.

He looked around, noting the serene clearing he now stood in. This wasn’t the formal entrance hall where he’d arrived before, flanked by towering columns and the majestic temple gate. No, this place was different—peaceful, secluded, as if it had been carefully hidden away within the vast expanse of your domain.

Only the floating fortress high above reminded him that he was indeed in the right place. He talked with you there before, in the gazebo surrounded by colorful structured blooms and ponds. Now that he viewed the grand fortress from below, its imposing structure casted shadows across the garden’s expanse like a protective embrace.

As he scanned the area, Jinwoo’s eyes fell on you a few paces away Butterflies danced around your figure as always, their luminescent wings like sparks against the backdrop of green foliage. You stood with your back to him, holding a bouquet of familiar red blooms— the vibrant scarlet of spider lilies unmistakable even from where he stood.

For a moment, Jinwoo froze, his mind flashing back to the vision he had been trying so hard to bury since before his descent into the Demon Castle. That vivid memory—you had held the exact same bouquet as this one. The warmth he had felt in that dream now surged back into his chest, leaving him almost breathless. But unlike the first time, he managed to suppress it quickly, clamping down on the surge of emotions before they could overwhelm him.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was witnessing something sacred. The air seemed to grow still, the butterflies lowering their flight as if in reverence. You knelt on the ground, your head bowed, the red blooms trembling in your grasp. Even the breeze seemed to hush in respect.

Jinwoo’s instincts screamed at him to remain silent. Whatever you were doing, it was not something he had any right to interrupt. He stood rooted to the spot, listening to the rustle of leaves and the distant call of birds that filled the garden’s serene ambiance, observing as a soft breeze rustled through the garden, lifting strands of your hair as if to underscore the quiet stillness.

Eventually, you rose, whispering something under your breath, the words too soft to carry to him, before turning to face him directly. Meeting his gaze with an unreadable expression, there was no surprise in your eyes, no shock at his sudden presence. The bouquet had vanished.

You walked toward him with the same calm, measured steps that seemed to define you. Jinwoo watched as you approached, your face betraying nothing. Deliberate or not, your form continued to obscure whatever had held your attention moments before. But as you brushed past him, gesturing for him to follow, he couldn't help himself—he turned his head to glance at where you had knelt.

There, nestled amidst the grass, stood a grave. The red flowers swayed in the wind like silent sentinels guarding a memory Jinwoo couldn’t fathom as he fell into steps behind you.

---

Back in the shop, he took a seat at one of the white, ornate garden chairs set up near a small round table, laden with a small assortment of snacks, pastries, and dried fruits. The sunlight streaming through the glass walls bathed the interior in a soft glow, illuminating the various blooms that lined the shelves. He knew it was all carefully cultivated, each element deliberate and intentional.

You were moving around the shop, adjusting the displays, tidying leaves and stems. “Will it be coffee as usual?” You asked, not turning around, though Jinwoo knew you could see him through the butterflies fluttering around the shop. They perched on pots and stems, their attention on him as much as on you. You continued tending to a nearby orchid with a practiced grace.

He gave a slight nod, and without missing a beat, you snapped your fingers. A dainty china set floated in from the back room. A coffee mug settling near him, while a matching teacup came to rest on the opposite side of the table. Hovering between, the teapot tilted on its own, pouring him a rich, dark brew before switching to fill the teacup with a lighter, fragrant blend.

Only once the teapot had finished its task did you finally joined him, your movements smooth and unhurried, sitting across the table with your own cup in hand. The delicate clink of porcelain as you took a sip seemed to signal the start of the conversation.

"I got my rank reevaluated today," Jinwoo began, breaking the silence.

"And?" You raised an eyebrow, your expression as inscrutable as ever.

Jinwoo filled you in on his meeting with Go Gunhee, and the offer the chairman had extended to him—one that he had declined. Jinwoo also mentioned his plans to join the Hunter Guild’s dungeon raid as part of the mining team to maintain his low profile.

Your expression was contemplative as you listened, taking small sips of your tea. As the original story went, Jinwoo wanted to see what an A-rank dungeon was like.

When he finished, he leaned back, studying your reaction.

“So,” he ventured, glancing around the verdant walls of your shop, “what rank would your garden be?”

You tilted your head thoughtfully. “I can’t say for certain. The system only gave me a brief description when I first claimed it, but I suppose it’s at least an S-rank.”

“Why not have your rank reevaluated, then?” he pressed.

There was a subtle shift in your expression.

"You have your reasons," you replied simply, "and I have mine."

And he could sense that this was as much as you would share with him for now.

Jinwoo’s reasons stemmed from a desire to level up, to get stronger through battles and continuous improvement. For you, though, reevaluation would serve no purpose—your goals, your motivations, lay elsewhere.

You kept your rank low not only to remain unremarkable but also to avoid deviating from the original plot. Fame and scrutiny were the last things you wanted, especially with the system’s influence ever present in your life. You would be harder to find, able to move without attracting attention. Plus, you can no longer level up, so as far as you know, your growth rate now was the same as any other normal hunter, so little change that it might as well be stagnant.

The conversation shifted into a more casual rhythm after that, with Jinwoo watching his shadows wander through your shop, their curiosity almost childlike as they inspected the blooms. The sight was oddly endearing—the way they reached out to touch petals with surprising gentleness, as though afraid they might crush the delicate flowers. Your butterflies mingled, guiding them among the plants.

They seemed at ease, and for a moment, so did he in this quiet corner of your world.

---

As the day wore on, the sky outside turned into a brilliant gradient of gold, red, and purple. You escorted Jinwoo to the shop’s entrance. Just as he reached for the handle—

“Wait,” Cupping your hands together, magic swirled between your fingers. In moments, a bouquet materialized—sunflowers, daisies, and lavender, their colors vivid yet easy on the eyes.

“Here,” You extended the flowers to him. “For your mother.”

Jinwoo stared at the bouquet, a mix of emotions flickering across his face. When he didn’t immediately take it, you tightened your grip, determined not to let your nerves show.

“I know you still don’t fully trust me,” you began softly, letting a touch of understanding creep into your voice. “And I know you’re aware that I’ve been keeping an eye on you.” Your butterflies floated into his line of sight, hovering near your shoulder as if in silent affirmation. “But know this—I respect your privacy more than you realize.”

Jinwoo remained silent, eyes flickering with something you didn’t really recognize.

“These flowers are enchanted to absorb harmful mana.” You explained. “I’ll call back the butterfly stationed with Mrs. Sung. As that child of mine has been stabilizing her condition, these flowers will suffice in their place.” When he still didn’t move to take the bouquet, you nudged it toward him again. “I’ll still check on her occasionally, but only as needed.”

For a moment, you thought he might reject the gift altogether, but just as your hands began to falter, he reached out and took the bouquet. You noticed the slight flinch when his fingers briefly brushed against yours, though his expression remained steady.

“I’ll trust you,” Jinwoo said at last, his voice low. “At least on this matter.” He glanced down at the bouquet before letting a faint smirk lift the corner of his mouth. “If you truly meant harm, you wouldn’t have gone out of your way to help us as you did.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and though you kept your face neutral, a small, genuine smile slipped through. “Then I’m glad I managed to convey that.”

Jinwoo took one last look around before stepping out.

“Thank you.” The words were spoken quietly, but they lingered in the air even after he disappeared into the evening. The glass door closed behind him with a final chime, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

This upcoming A-rank dungeon would be the first time he would encounter her—the one destined to become the light in his life.

A bittersweet feeling welled up within you, but before you could dwell on it too much, the bells rang again. You looked up to see a familiar head of blond hair peek through. Warm gray eyes lighting up as they found you, a radiant smile bloomed on the young woman’s face.

“(Name)!”

You returned the smile with a small one of your own as you greeted her. For a fleeting moment, your thoughts returned to Jinwoo and the future. But for now, you pushed them aside, focusing instead on the bright presence before you.

---

Jinwoo still wasn’t sure if putting his faith in you was the right decision.

He lay sprawled on his bed, the dim evening light casting long shadows across the walls of his room. He stared blankly at the ceiling, replaying the events of the day over and over in his mind.

The bouquet you had given him for his mother rested in a vase beside her hospital bed, the sunflowers, daisies, and lavender softly illuminated by the fading sunset through the hospital window. Jinwoo had stayed there a while after leaving you, watching his mother’s peaceful, sleeping form while the scent of the flowers filled the room.

The moment Jinwoo stepped into the room, the flowers’ scent seemed to amplify—not enough to cause discomfort, but definitely more pronounced than the previous subtle fragrance—and his mother’s complexion seemed to relax as well.

So, instead of the usual glow, you settled for more natural scent, and for the enchantment to be activated, it needed to be near its intended target—was that how you make it? It was so like you after all, to blend in and to take precaution of every possibility you could think of in that head of yours. To avoid falling into the wrong hands, for example, was just one out of many.

Now, with his body back home but his thoughts far away, he couldn’t shake the sense of disquiet that lingered in the back of his mind.

Trust. It was such a simple word, yet for him, it carried the weight of the world. Could he really trust you?

You were the first to extend trust between the two of you, back in that dungeon—a place where trust could so easily become a knife in the back. And yet, there you were, you had turned to him with those steady eyes, yet there was an openness that unnerved him. You extended not just your hand, but a fatal piece of yourself, to him.

That moment, he couldn’t help but wonder: were you reckless? No, he knew better. You were meticulous, thoughtful. Jinwoo had watched you from the corner of his eye in battle after battle, always noting how you seemed to be five steps ahead, anticipating threats and countering them effortlessly. Then, were you a fool? No, he knew that wasn’t it either. You were calculating, careful in every word and movement.

But then why, despite all that caution, why would you dare to show him your vulnerabilities? To expose your powers’ weakness on a silver platter unasked, practically inviting him to take advantage of it, if he were even the slightest bit more cruel?

Jinwoo was certain he didn’t know you. But you know him, maybe even deeper than he knew himself. Was that why?

He would’ve found it more believable if the system forced you into helping him. But it was made clear to him, multiple times, that it wasn’t like so. In fact, Jinwoo was almost positive that you couldn’t accompany him on certain raids because the system forbade you. And yet, you still found ways to assist him then.

Standing amidst the crumbling remnants of the stone golem, Jinwoo hadn’t known what to say. Back then, he chose the easiest, cowardly response—to stay silent. And it left the most bitter taste in his mouth.

His mind drifted further back, to when he was nothing but a pitiful E-rank Hunter struggling just to keep his head above water. You had been his lifeline, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

At first, he’d been suspicious—who wouldn’t be? Free meals delivered to his doorstep when he came home to Jinah’s worried face, mysterious donations that kept his mother’s hospital bills paid up to date when he was barely scraping by. The mysterious gifts that had arrived just when he needed them—medicines for his wounds, mana crystals and essence stones that he could still sell for decent cash, and the likes.

He had never seen you then, had only felt the faintest hint of a presence, like a shadow slipping away whenever he turned to catch it.

Those days had been hell. Waking up after collapsing in some remote corner of a godforsaken dungeon, healed but drained, with no one around. The bruises and cuts were always just nearly healed, and his exhaustion remained—a reminder that he had survived another day, but only barely. Living another day for his family had always been a relief, but there had always been the haunting possibility that the next close call might not have such a reprieve.

He hated it. Hated how he needed those mysterious interventions just to keep going. Hated the helplessness that came with relying on someone he couldn’t even see, let alone repay.

Yet at the same time… he had clung to that help like a drowning man grasping at a lifeline. those half-healed wounds and last-minute rescues—there must be a catch, there was always a price to pay, nothing in this world came for free—he just hadn’t known when it would come due.

But what choice had he had? He had been desperate. And in that desperation, he’d entertained the belief that perhaps, somewhere in the world, someone truly cared, selflessly, in a way that was almost painfully idealistic, for the hellish reality of the world that had beaten him down for his rank and lack of prospects.

After gaining the system, though, his outlook shifted as quickly as his strength grew. The mysterious aid in his mother’s hospital bills continued to arrive in his absence, and when he was caught up in instant dungeons, Jinah often remarked on the meals that still showed up during his long periods away. The quiet assistance seemed to have no end, no apparent agenda, and while it never fully left his thoughts, it had faded to the background of his life.

When he no longer needed to rely on invisible help to survive, it was at that moment that the heals disappeared. Jinwoo had chalked it up then that it was because he was often in dungeons managed by the system, where no ordinary hunter or person could get in. Could you believe he was foolish enough to believe that? That his mysterious benefactor was normal in any way?

When he’d finally agreed to Jinho’s deal, and as he grew wealthier through his own efforts, the donations, gifts, and meals followed the same pattern, and he was once again left without a single clue to its source.

There had been a strange feeling at the time, one he hadn’t wanted to admit to himself. Abandoned? No, the word felt too raw, too vulnerable. Yet, somewhere beneath his rising success, the newfound self-reliance, there was a sliver of emptiness he couldn’t quite ignore.

Something else had changed. The system itself had started acting strangely. Messages would pop up on his interface, unbidden and unsanctioned by the typical quest or informative-game-like format.

["Don't rely solely on brute force. Sometimes, retreat is necessary for a better strategy."] ["Focus on the core of the mana flow. It's not about quantity but control."]

Words of advice, encouragement, and strange observations—those cryptic phrases were always enclosed in quotation marks. And they were always signed, ‘by Trial Player [][][][].”

The blocked name, abrupt nature of the messages, it felt as if the system was glitching, borrowing someone else’s thoughts and slipping them into his notifications.

And this started happening right after all the mysterious aid ceased?

Jinwoo knew better than to believe in coincidences.

When he had finally met you in person, there was a strange déjà vu he couldn't shake. Tt was like piecing together the final fragments of a puzzle he hadn’t known he was solving, and also opening a new puzzle box altogether. Your presence was familiar, the system’s peculiar greeting had been a dead giveaway. And from that moment, Jinwoo zeroed in on you, observing your every move, waiting for you to slip up and reveal your true intentions.

Yet, if there was a hidden agenda behind your actions, it was buried deep beneath layers of genuine care. Whether it was out of obligation or something else entirely, Jinwoo had the sneaking suspicion that you would stay by his side, just as you had done when he was at his weakest, whether he wanted you to or not.

Now, sitting in the stillness of his room, Jinwoo pulled up his inventory and scrolled to the bottom, where a simple, broken set of daggers lay nestled among his spoils of war. He summoned them into his hands, the cold metal resting heavily against his skin. They were worn, chipped, and the blade edges dulled to uselessness, but they held an unmistakable sense of familiarity.

These daggers had been indispensable to him in his early days, in part because of their quality, durable beyond anything he could afford at the time, but also because the grip had fit so naturally in his hands, as if they had been forged with him in mind. And he now knew they were your creation.

Indeed, they had served him well until they finally gave out during one raid with Jinho—more from overuse than any fault in their craftsmanship. Jinwoo couldn’t bring himself to throw them away

The “Ordinary Daggers” the system had given no special description when he had saved them in his inventory for the first time.

He ran his thumb over the broken hilt, tracing the tiny, delicate butterfly engraving hidden along its base. A small detail he had noticed early on, but not knowing of its meaning until after meeting you. They were a symbol of your aid when he had nothing to offer in return.

But you had never once asked for repayment. Aside from confirming his suspicions the first time you meet, where Jinwoo basically cornered you to answer, you never brought it up after, never tried to use them as leverage against him. It made him wonder if he was the one overthinking things. Maybe, just maybe, your kindness wasn’t some elaborate trap.

The room was dimly lit, the only sound the faint hum of the city outside his window. As he sat there, the weight of the daggers in his hand was oddly comforting.

Jinwoo frowned. Trust was still a murky territory between the two of you, a minefield he wasn’t eager to tread, but one thing was clear: he was no longer the weak E-rank who had to take whatever scraps he could get. He was stronger now, strong enough to protect what was dear to him and pay back his debts, even if the other party didn’t expect it.

What could he possibly do to repay you though? Protecting you during their raids hardly felt like compensation. After all, he had been the one who insisted that you accompany him, and you had proven time and time again that you were more than capable of holding your own. In fact, more often than not, it was you who had subtly safeguarded him, providing support when he least expected it.

The spoils you collected from the raids might have been a form of compensation, but even then, it didn’t feel like enough—not to him. It felt unfair when he knew you only took what he didn’t need. Hell, you even asked for his permission. Every. Single. Damm. Time. The fact that you didn’t gain exp made it even worse.

Buying you something expensive would feel insincere. Jewelry? Clothes? Those options didn’t fit you and you weren’t the type to flaunt such things, even if you always dressed with a quiet elegance. You were far too practical for those trinkets, and besides, your craftsmanship far exceeded anything money could buy.

The thought of giving you flowers briefly crossed his mind, but he dismissed it just as quickly, scoffing. What use would a florist have for more flowers? Especially one who tended to an entire magical garden filled with blooms far beyond what Earth could offer.

But there was one thing he could offer, simple yet, something that might carry more meaning than any gift. The meals you had sent to him and Jinah, the home-cooked dishes that had warmed not just their stomachs but their hearts. You had cooked for him, even when he was a stranger. Maybe now it was his turn.

He had learned to cook well enough, decent, at least. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a good plan.

Jinwoo slipped the broken daggers back into his inventory, as a slow, determined smile spread across his lips, his heart beat just a bit faster at the thought.

A meal prepared with his own hands. Not out of obligation, but as a gesture of gratitude. It would be something small, with a personal touch—something that couldn’t be bought or forced. It would be his way of saying thank you for all the times you had been there, even when he had never asked.

Now all he needed was the right moment to invite you. He couldn’t just casually bring it up during a raid; that would be absurd. No, it had to be… thoughtful.

Yes, that was it. Dinner, at his place.

A quiet evening where he could actually get to know you, the you outside the chaos of battle at least. And maybe, just maybe, over a shared meal, he could start to understand you better. The person who had saved him time and time again, yet expected nothing in return. And who knows? Perhaps, in the warmth of a shared meal, he would finally learn to trust you.

Because as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to. More than anything.

End Note:

Unfinished Draft of [10/11/2024] -

What do you guys think of Jinwoo's p.o.v. in this chapter?

Does the development feel too rushed? Abrupt? Too OOC, maybe? Or is it just right? Maybe needs some more details in the current, previous, and or future chapters' drafts? Any constructive feedbacks are always appreciated :)

Happy reading, Everyone! <3

[hiddenzev]

Second Confession: Part 1

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Already having a crush on Joel for a year now, she was asked to be his patrol partner.

Chapter Warnings - Angst, One-sided love, Unrequited Love, Idiots in Love, a hint of fluff

WC: 1.6k

series masterlist . AO3

A/N: This is my first time committing to write a complete series of a fic. Also my first time posting it on tumblr so i'm still navigating and figuring things out. I love reading unrequited love with a happy ending stories so this has been living in my head rent free for awhile. I speak broken English most of the time (singlish iykyk) so there might be errors in my writing here and there, sorry bout that. Idk if anyone is gonna read this but if you do, i hope you enjoy it. This is prolly gonna be a 5 part series so the next few chapters will be longer than this.

Knock, Knock, Knock

You finish up washing your hands in the sink before shouting over your shoulders, “Coming!”

You dried your hands before making your way to the front door. You quickly put on your coat before opening the door and finding Tommy leaning against your porch with his hands in his front pockets.

“Good morning!” he say with a smile, “Ready to go?” he asks, turning his body to gesture them to walk out front. You nod your head and turn to lock your door. Both of you walk out and make your way to the cafeteria for breakfast as usual.

The cafeteria is filled with people in the morning. After getting your food, both of you made your way to the table in the corner with Maria, Ellie and Joel already seated eating their food. As you get closer, Tommy went to Maria’s side and bent down to kiss her on the cheek before sitting beside her. You sit down beside Ellie and gave your greetings to the group.

“Good morning,” you greet them.

“Morning.” Ellie greeted back with mouthful of food still in her mouth.

You get a nod from Maria as she looks up at you while eating her food. Maria has been nice to you from the moment you got to Jackson. Even though she can be strict and tough at times, that is what makes you admire her. You, on the other hand, are reserved and laid back. You are not a leader but more of a follower. That’s why you respect her a lot because of what she’s doing for the community.

It’s been 3 years since you arrived in Jackson, tattered with the remnants of the past and  the pain within you. It was difficult to adjust to the community at first but the couple currently sitting in front of you embraced you into the community with open arms without any judgement. They taught you everything that you need to know about Jackson and since then, you have been living here without much difficulties.

Unlike Maria, Joel does not even acknowledge your presence and keep on eating his breakfast with a frown on his face. You wonder if you will get to be the receiver of his smile one day. You had seen him smile a couple of times while talking to Tommy and you want to see his smile more often.

However, Joel is someone who distances himself from everybody else and has a tough exterior. People in Jackson find him intimidating and stay as far away as possible from him, scared to agitate and make him angry. He’s always tensed around everyone except the ones that he consider his people like Tommy and Ellie.

Joel and Ellie came to Jackson a year ago to find Tommy and that was when you saw him letting his guard down for the first time when embracing his brother in the middle of the town. After that, he had returned back in his shell refusing to open up to anybody. In the beginning, you tried to come up to him and strike a conversation but he always reply with one word answer or silence or a glare that can burn through your skull. You understand that after everything that happened to this world, it’s tough to live with optimism and hope like before.

Ever since he arrived, he had caught your eye. With his rugged appearance, tic in his jaw every now and then, a face that doesn’t show you a hint of happiness and you still can’t take your eyes of him when he’s around. You don’t know why you seek to look or ask about him when he’s not around. You have been harbouring this feeling towards him for a year now. It’s starting to bubble up on the surface and you’re afraid that you can’t contain it anymore.

You shake those thoughts away and start to dig in your food. Breakfast is filled with Ellie telling everybody on the table about things that she learned in school and asking us about life before the outbreak. Tommy and Maria answer her questions and Joel scoffs at what she said sometimes. You watch her talk about life before the outbreak with wonder in her eyes and you can’t help but smile at her. She brings up the feeling of serenity in you when you see the curiosity in her eyes.

Seeing the world through a kid’s eye is something that we adults cannot afford to do anymore. You are caught up in what Ellie is saying that you don’t realise that Joel, who is sitting on the other side of Ellie, is looking at you. You stare in each other’s eyes for a few seconds before he look away and go back to finishing his food.

“How are you feeling today?” Maria ask you.

“I’m good,” you answer, tearing your eyes away from Joel.

“Do you mind covering Tim on patrols next week?” Joel looks up hearing this. Tim is Joel’s patrol partner. They’ve been partners for almost a month now. Apparently, Tim and Joel don’t get along well. I mean, no one gets along well with Joel. Anyone that got assigned to be his partner always backed out after a few weeks. They cannot find anyone that can handle him except for Tommy. For awhile, Tommy was his partner but they cannot let him stick with him all the time as they needed Tommy’s help somewhere else sometimes.

You look at Joel to gauge his reaction. His stern look towards Maria is not breaking.

“Yeah I don’t mind.” You turn your head to look at the couple. Tommy is giving you an apologetic look knowing Joel is difficult to work with. He look at Joel who has turn his eyes away from Maria and now towards him.

“Joel, please. We don’t have anyone else.” Tommy says with a begging look on his face. Joel stares at him without saying anything.

“Oh come on man, is it so difficult to not be mean?” Ellie breaks the silence. Joel frown at her as she continues to speak.

“She’s my friend and she’s nice,” her eyes widen to emphasise her words.

“I don’t want you to infect her with your ‘old man attitude’,” she air quote annoyingly, making Joel to soften his eyes a little bit.

“Besides, she’s the only one that can stand you and your grumpiness.” Joel look at her confused. You are confused too by what she said. What does she mean by that? Tommy and Maria exchange glances before Maria speaks again.

“If everyone is ok with it, I’ll see you at the gates for patrol next week.” She looks at everyone for confirmation before stopping to look at you. You give her a nod before she stands up to start her day. Everybody quietly leaves before you are left with Ellie alone who still has a little bit of food to finish.

You timidly ask her about what she meant earlier, “Ellie, what do you mean when you said I’m the only one that can stand him and his grumpiness?”

Ellie looks at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. She smirks and continue to eat her food not answering your question.

“Ellie!” you urge her to answer you.

She just laugh at you and stands up to return her tray. You are left alone being confused.

Feeling a little bit sluggish from the day, you make yourself a nice hot tea and make your way to your front porch. You sit down on your chair, immersing yourself in the calm stillness of the night. You have always enjoy the nights in Jackson more than the daytime. 

As you are relaxing, what happened earlier today, creeps up in your mind. The way Joel was looking at you makes your heart beat faster. What was he thinking while looking at you like that? Also, what did Ellie meant when she said that I’m the only one that can stand him and his grumpiness? You did not spend a lot of time with him alone for her to think that way.

You are perplexed on joining him on patrols, knowing the fact that a lot of people had a tough time with him. You cannot back out from it now and you are taking this opportunity to get to know him better.

While you are in thinking about Joel, you hear the strumming of a guitar nearby. It must be him. Joel lives adjacent to your house and you know that he plays the guitar some nights thinking no one is around to hear him play. You are not able to see him play because he plays the guitar at his back porch all the time. You did get to see him play once when he was back facing you, sitting at the edge of his porch, taking in the sunset. You had thought it was a beautiful view even though he wasn’t facing you.

You did not tell anyone about your feelings for him but you think that maybe Tommy has caught on to it. Sometimes he caught you looking at his brother and he would give you a mischievous smirk.

You have been wanting to tell Joel about your feelings that you’ve kept for about a year now. You also know that it is a risk as he will probably react badly to it. You do not expect him to accept it. You are doing it mostly for yourself. Call it selfish or whatever but you think it’s better to let those feelings out and move on with your life without keeping a secret that will only eat you from the inside.

Having a crush for a year is a long time and you think that it won’t progress any further so you’d rather do it fearlessly with no regrets. With a determination to confess , you let yourself listen to him playing the guitar for awhile more before calling it a night.

next part

[saveyourblood]

Pretty Boy - Ch 2 (Evan Buckley x Reader) (Eventual Buddie x Reader)

Summary: You can feel Buck staring. When your eyes meet his, you realize he’s staring at your hand, which is still on Eddie’s knee. You slowly retreat, which makes Buck turn his attention to your face. You smile softly. He just looks out the window. The one where you’re an advanced paramedic, Buck and Eddie are firefighters, and you think you might be in love with both of them.

Ch 1

Chapter Summary: Buck faces a few challenges, and you're there for some of them.

A/N: This is such a niche story and I am desperate for validation, please tell me if you enjoyed reading! Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: descriptions of gun violence, mental health issues/suicide ideation (nothing overly graphic IMO)

Unlike some people who work in this building, you know how to take orders. So, instead of dragging your feet and prolonging the inevitable, you go to Bobby’s office the second you get back from the call. Hen tries to say something to you, but you’re so focused on having this conversation behind you that you ignore her. 

Despite the door being cracked open, you knock a few times. 

“Come in,”  Bobby says. 

You step in. He looks up. 

“Ah,” he remarks as if it’s a surprise to see you. “You can close the door behind you.” 

You close the door and lean against it. 

“Have a seat,” Bobby instructs as he files through some random papers. 

You let out a sigh. You were hoping to be in and out, but Bobby clearly has other ideas. Still, you do as you’re told. 

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened with Buck.”

As if you’d be in here for anything else. 

“Are you gonna write me up?” You ask instinctually. You’ve never been formally disciplined, so the question is gnawing at you. 

“Buck wants me to.”

You snort. “Buck wants a lot of things; most children do.”

“You’re a year younger than him,” Bobby points out. 

It’s true—Buck is 26, and you’re 25. But in this context especially, age is just a number. You’re a 25-year-old advanced practice paramedic with 3 years of experience who acts their age. Buck is a 26-year-old firefighter in his probationary period who acts like a frat boy.

“Are you going to write me up?” You repeat. 

Bobby gives you a look, then sighs with a crooked smile. “No. But if you do anything like that again, you’ll be hearing from me and Sergeant Grant.” 

“Fair enough,” you cede. 

There are a few silent beats in the conversation. This is why Bobby made you sit—he has more to say. 

“Why does he bother you so much?” Bobby asks.

“Literally everything I told him: he’s wreckless and he’s gonna get someone killed if he doesn’t change.” 

“So why not teach him to do better, to be better?”

“Trust me, Cap, I’ve tried,” you chuckle. “I mean, even earlier today, I taught him how to clear an obstruction in a neonatal airway. And honestly? For a few minutes, when he was running down the stairs with that baby in his arms, I thought, ‘Hey, maybe he isn’t so bad after all.’ And then he yells at Sergeant Grant, and he proves me wrong. Again.” 

“I’m talking to him and Sergeant Grant about how everything went down,” Bobby says. 

“I’m not telling you that to get him in trouble, I just…” You take a deep breath through your nose and let it out as a sigh. “It felt like no one was holding him accountable. And I’ve tried playing nice, and I’ve tried teaching him, and he still had the nerve to pretend that he can play god. And I just… lost it, and thought that maybe if I treat him like a man would, he would finally listen to me.”

Bobby nods, taking in everything you’ve said.  

“You think I don’t hold him accountable?” He eventually asks. 

You let out another sigh. “If Buck worked under any other LAFD Captain, they would have canned his ass about three months ago.”

“But is that the right thing to do?” Bobby counters. “This job is tough, and it isn’t something that can be taught overnight. Buck has potential—he could be an invaluable asset some day.”

“Is firing him the right call? Honestly, Bobby, I have no idea,” you admit. “But if people have to get hurt in order for Buck to be good at his job, then it isn’t worth the price.” 

Bobby ended up firing Buck a few days later. It wasn’t for what happened with Sergeant Grant; it was because, apparently, Bobby caught him having sex with some girl on a roof. He used one of the fire trucks to drive there. The moron didn’t realize they have GPS trackers. You got all of this information in a text from Hen. 

You turn the corner to the locker room, planning to put away your keys and wallet before starting your shift like you always do. You didn’t expect to see Buck sitting on the bench in front of the lockers. 

You plan on opening your locker, throwing your stuff in it, and leaving before Buck can say anything. The second you lift the lever, though, Buck turns his head towards you. 

He doesn’t say anything, and you definitely aren‘t going to break the silence. 

“So you heard, huh?” Buck says. 

You close your locker and spin the lock to scramble it. “Yeah, I did.” 

“Aren’t you going to say anything else?” 

“Tough break. Sorry, man,” you say with a shrug. You turn on your heel to leave.

“That’s it?” Buck says with a laugh. “A few days ago, you were slamming me against an ambulance, and now… nothing? Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘I told you so’?”

Buck doesn’t even work at the 118 anymore, and he still has a way of getting under your skin. You close your eyes, hoping you can gain some composure before you say anything.

“I’m sorry for pushing you; that was unprofessional,” you say and make your second attempt at leaving.

“But that’s all you're sorry for,” Buck says, rising to his feet. 

You turn around and eye him from head to toe. His chest isn’t puffed out in that hypermasculine way it normally is. Buck shifts his weight between feet, and when the pressure of your stare becomes too much, he breaks eye contact. 

“It’s like Sergeant Grant said: I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” you eventually reply.

“Then say it: you’re happy to see me go.”

Jesus Christ, he can be such a baby. 

“Okay, fine, you wanna go there?” you retort, taking a step forward. “You wanna know the worst thing about you, Buck?” 

He just looks at you. 

“You. You’re the worst thing about you. Because you could’ve been good. You’ve got decent skills, and you have heart, but you have no discipline. You can’t take orders, and you can’t look at a woman for more than thirty seconds without having sex with her. You’re a 16-year-old boy trapped in a 26-year-old man’s body, and ever since you started, you haven’t done anything to change it. You get in your own way and are too busy flirting or running your mouth to even realize it.”

You take another step towards him to ensure he hears what you’re about to say. “You could’ve been good. And I hope that shit haunts you. Because maybe, it’ll finally make you grow up.”

You start to make your exit again but linger in the doorway. You turn back around; there’s one more thing you want to say.

“I’m not happy to see you go, Evan. In fact, I was really hoping you would prove me wrong.”

And with that, you’re gone. 

You and Hen go out on a ‘shortness of breath’ call that ends up being a STEMI — a heart attack. You get him to the nearest hospital in five minutes, and if they can get him to the cath lab, he has a really good shot at surviving it. The patient’s wife hugs both you and Hen, thanking the two of you for doing such a wonderful job. You savor the feeling; most calls don’t end this way. 

When you pull into the station, there’s an engine missing. At first, you think it’s no big deal: the boys are probably out on a fire call. Then you see Bobby standing where the engine’s supposed to be.

“What’s going on, Cap?” Hen asks as she closes the door to the rig. 

“There’s an engine missing.”

“Yeah, clearly,” you chuckle. 

“There were reports of a residential break-in on Lambert Street in Winnetka,” Bobby continues. 

“Damn,” Hen whistles. 

You both heard something about that over the scanner on your drive back to the station; there was a suspected hostage, a young girl. Last you heard, the subject was trying to flee by motorcycle. 

“All of the 118 firemen are accounted for,” Bobby concludes.

You and Hen share a look. Who has a track record of borrowing engines without permission?

The truck pulls up and slowly backs into the garage. You catch a glimpse of the driver in one of the rearview mirrors. 

“Pretty Boy,” you say simply. 

Buck steps out of the truck, still wearing the jeans and long-sleeved grey shirt you last saw him in. “I know what this looks like.”

“Looks like you took the engine out in your street clothes,” Bobby says as he approaches the younger man. 

“I didn't really have time to change,” Buck counters. He doesn’t say it in his normal cocky tone, though. Frankly, he looks nervous. 

“Athena Grant called me, wanted to tell me what an asset you are.” Bobby continues. “Told her she was half right.”

Buck frowns. “Are you giving me another chance?” 

“You’ve used all your chances; so have I,” Bobby says, “because somehow I have failed to communicate to you how lucky we are to do what we do.”

Bobby starts to walk away, but Buck isn’t letting him get away that easy. 

“You're wrong, Bobby. I absolutely do get what a privilege it is to serve here,” Buck says, “and you know what? You were right to fire me.”

That makes Bobby stop dead in his tracks.

“I was a punk,” Buck continues, “still am one. But I'm a punk who understands what he lost. Just… needed you to know that.”

“I hope you mean that. Now go get dressed.” 

Buck stands cluelessly for a second, then turns to you and Hen. “I think I’m not fired.” 

“Your shift’s not over yet,” Hen points out. 

You go to follow her, but Buck stops you by calling your name. 

“I just wanted to tell you, uh…” Buck says, wringing his hands together. “I’m gonna prove you wrong.”

Normally, words like that coming out of his mouth would set your skin on fire. Between the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, though, something in your gut tells you to hear him out. 

“Yeah?” You ask simply, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“Some day, I’ll be good,” he says, “but until then, I’ll be better.”

Buck extends a hand for you to shake. It’s the most chivalrous thing you’ve seen him do since you met him. You look at his hand, then at his eyes. There isn’t a trace of humor in his gaze. You take his hand and shake it. 

“I look forward to seeing it.”

Your first call of the shift is to an amusement park where one of the rides malfunctioned. A rider was thrown from the ride as it was moving, and it sounds like he’ll be DOA. When the operator deployed the emergency breaks, though, it meant the rest of the train stopped at the top of a loop, which one rider is now dangling out of. 

Buck is the first to volunteer to climb the ladder and harness the passenger. You’re not surprised. He’s grown a lot in the last few weeks, but he still jumps at every exciting opportunity, no matter how dangerous it may be. Maybe that’s just how Buck is. 

“Hey, he’s asking about his friend,” Buck radios once he’s at the top. 

“Chimney, how’s the kid on the ground?” Bobby radios. 

You look up and shake your head. 

“We lost him,” Chim radios back. 

“All right, I don't need the people up there seeing that. So, do me a favor... He survived, right? Get him on a gurney. You know the drill,” Bobby instructs.

“Copy that,” Chim replies. 

Once you and Chimney get him on the gurney and out of everyone’s sight, you look up at Buck. 

“Come on,” Chimney mutters encouragingly. “Come on, Buck.” 

After a painfully long minute, you see the man’s grasp on the rollercoaster falter. Then, you watch him let go. You close your eyes before you see him hit the ground, but the sound will echo off of your eardrums for a while. 

You go the rest of the night without seeing Buck; you don’t share another call, and when you’re not out in the field, you’re asleep in the bunks. It’ll probably kill you in the long run, but these days, you learn to sleep whenever and wherever you can. 

When you wake up for morning report and breakfast, Buck is already sitting at the table. You wipe the sleep out of your eyes and get a cup of coffee before sitting across from him. 

Bobby was nice enough to make breakfast; he knows how hard these calls are. No matter how many you get, it’ll never get easier. 

Bobby sets a plate in front of Buck. 

“I’m not hungry,” he says almost instantaneously. 

“This is America, Buckaroo,” Chim replies as he sets some silverware on the table. “Eating has nothing to do with being hungry.

“Man, I was right there. You know, all he had to do was reach up and grab my hand,” Buck says instead.

“People do funny things at times like that,” you offer, sipping your drink. “ Sometimes they just freeze up.”

“I’ve never lost anyone before,” Buck says quietly. He looks up at you. “Does it get any easier?” 

Bobby answers for you. “No.” 

“Look, people die, and that’s part of the gig, right?” Chim says as he sits next to you. “See, your problem is, you're looking at every job like it's a long-term relationship. They're one-night stands, man. In that moment, they mean everything to you, but once the morning comes... it's on to the next one.”

“How silly of me to think you’d say something productive,” you roll your eyes.

Chim furrows his brows. “What?”

“You’re such a man,” you say to Chim, then turn to Buck. “Look, dude, we all go through it, and you just have to figure out a way to deal with it,.” You pause. “You know why we wear these uniforms?”

“Sex appeal?” Chim answers, which earns him a quick kick to the shin from you. 

“So people can easily identify us,” Buck responds. 

“That’s true, but… I don’t know, I like to think it’s because when we take it off, we can leave it all behind us. Right now, you’re firefighter Buckley, but when your shift is over, you’re Buck. It just… symbolizes letting go, I guess.”

“I see his face every time I close my eyes,” Buck says. “Does that happen to you?” 

“It’ll pass,” you promise. 

“And if it doesn’t?”

You stare at Buck for a moment. It’s hard to imagine that this is the same man who mouthed off to a police Sergeant mere weeks ago. 

“Then you talk someone,” you eventually say. “A friend, a therapist, a bartender… you find a way to let it out, and then you let it go.”

 

Once again, you don’t see Buck for hours. You heard on the scanner that the 118 responded to several rescue calls, none requiring an RA unit. You spent the rest of your shift bouncing from call to call and ER to ER, seeing everything from stab wounds to childbirth. It’s shifts like this that remind you why you do what you do. It’s chaotic, stressful, and bloody, but it is fun. After a certain point, you don’t even have to use your brain; the adrenaline in your veins kicks your brain into autopilot, and your pounding heart is just along for the ride. 

You step into the communal locker room, completely exhausted. You still have to change, and considering everything you’ve witnessed, you should probably shower too. Most of all, you want to go home and crawl into your bed. 

Buck is sitting on the bench in the locker room, similar to how he was a few weeks ago after he was ‘fired.’ Just like you, he’s still wearing his uniform. His head is bowed between his shoulders as his elbows rest on his knees. This time, his head doesn’t perk up when you open your locker. 

“I heard you used The Manuever today,” you spark the conversation. “Nice save.”

Buck finally looks up and then chuckles quietly. “Yeah, if only I could’ve done that a few days ago.” 

You take a seat next to him. “Still thinking about Devon, huh?” 

“I’m trying not to, I just…” Buck says, then cuts himself off as he shakes his head. 

“It’s easier said than done,” you conclude. 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” you agree. 

Both of you sit in comfortable silence for a few moments. You open your mouth a few times only to close it. You don’t want to tell this story; you hate even thinking about it. But if you’re going to sit here and tell Buck that he has to let things go, you have to do the same. It’s only fair. 

“The first person I lost… her name was Katherine Vanec. She was 17 years old, wearing a University of Washington shirt, white shorts, and black Converse High Tops. We got a call from her mother, who was at work when she started getting strange texts from Katherine. It was supposed to be a welfare check, and when the cops got there, they found her locked in her bedroom. When fire and rescue broke down the door, she had a .22 caliber revolver pressed to her temple.”

“Jesus,” Buck mutters. 

“Katherine had a history of Borderline Personality Disorder and suicidal ideation. She figured out that her high school sweetheart had been cheating on her for almost a year. They made plans together, I guess — they were gonna go to the same school, find a place off-campus to live together. He pulled the rug right out from under her, and she couldn’t take it.”

“So what happened?”

You smile sadly. “By the time we arrived, a negotiator had been talking to her for almost ten minutes. They thought she was in a good spot that all she had to do was put the gun down, and we would swoop in and 5150 her.”

“Involuntary admission,” Buck says. 

“Yeah,” you confirm. “That didn’t happen. When the negotiator asked her to set the gun down, she lost it. She kept talking about how every time before, she chickened out, and she couldn’t let that happen again. She turned the gun on us.”

“Suicide by cop.”

You nod as a few tears well in your eyes. Even all these years later, that case haunts you. “Her finger wasn’t near the trigger; she didn’t want to hurt anyone. She just didn’t want to be alive anymore, and she couldn’t think of another way out. I can still hear the sound of the bullets tearing through her.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Buck asks softly. 

You wipe at your eyes and clear your throat. “Let it out and let it go,” you answer, then nudge his shoulder with yours. “Your turn.” 

Buck smiles; the expression is bittersweet. “I keep replaying what happened. I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something else I could’ve done. Maybe I could have grabbed his arm, or maybe there’s something I could’ve said differently.”

“Or maybe, no matter what you did, it was always going to end that way,” you suggest quietly. “Maybe he felt the same way Katherine did—like he had no other way out. We can try to rescue people, but we can’t make them want to be alive. Some people just don’t want to be saved, Buck.” 

“That really sucks.”

You laugh. “Yeah, it does. I guess that’s why we have each other; it makes it suck a little less.” 

“‘Each other’ as in you and me?” Buck asks in a lighthearted tone. 

You roll your eyes, but secretly, you’re thankful for the change of pace. “‘Each other’ as in the 118, which technically includes you and me.” 

“Sounds like a copout.” 

You laugh and clap a hand on Buck’s shoulder before standing. “Have a good night, Buck.”

You make it to the doorway before he says your name. You look back at him. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. 

You bite your lip, but it isn’t enough to conceal your smile. “Anytime.” 

Ch 3