#AT LEAST WAIT UNTIL HE'S DEAD ASSHOLE

[hcppyhotel]

@afelldemon , it's all fun and games until someone gets fucked up ;;

( mastecate ) - chew on warm flesh, swallow for Angel. He was hungry.

angel  would  admit,  getting  banged  up  and  shot  was  a  pretty  shitty  way  to  go,  but  --  probably  wasn't  the  worst.  having  made  it  to  the  hotel  two  seconds  from  death  --  hey,  at  least  he  made  it  to  the  hotel.  and  while  he  would  have  perferred  to  perish  alone,  he  supposed  the  company  was  a  bit  welcomed,  even  said  company  was  unsettling.

hey,  he's  had  worse,  surprisingly.  that  was  until  the  other  had  prompted  on  eating  his  flesh...  or  maybe  it  was  a  bite,  angel  couldn't  really  tell  as  could  feel  the  last  of  the  blood  leave  his  body.  he  doesn't  remember  the  words  that  were  exchanged  but  did  feel  fangs  on  him,  piercing  through  flesh  as  skin  tears  off  of  him.  the  pain  was  excruciating  --  he  had  HOPED  that  the  radio  demon  had  some  sympathy  and  waited  until  after  angel  was  dead,  but  --  the  shock  was  starting  to  settle,  and...  angel  didn't  really  care  anymore.

the  only  thing  that  was  clear  when  angel  woke  up  was  the  itchiness  on  his  skin  and  the  desire  to  scratch  where  he  was  bitten  off.  but  the  feeling  fades  and  angel  is  left  to  stare  at  the  ceiling  of  his  room.

[beomiracles]

⌞ 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘'𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ⌝

DREAM RECALL “You know what I think of you?” He says, the bed squeaking as he leans forward, dangerously close. “I think you’re scared.” He drawls, eyes boring into your own with such vigor that you almost felt pity for the anger that consumed him. How miserable he must be to live like that. — “I’m not scared.” You calmly state, shifting against the pillows as you instinctively try to create distance between the two of you. Quickly taking note of your hesitant body language, he smirks, “no? Then prove it.”

“Prove that you’re not afraid of the darkness, of my darkness.”

wc -> 17k (oopsie daises)

pairings stepbrother!beomgyu x stepsister!reader warnings stepcest, daddy issues, some mommy issues, character death, emo/punk!beomgyu + he has an eyebrow piercing, major asshole!beomgyu, mentions of alcoholism, lots of arguing, angsty as shit but with a happy ending, talks of grief and letting go, smut (again, stepcest), virgin!reader, loss of virginity, softdom!gyu but he's also a menace, guilt ridden sex, unprotected + pullout, handjob + vaginal fingering, some cum eating, use of "sis" both outside and during the smut (I cannot stress this enough), might be teetering on the edge of dubious consent at some points but nothing crazy. dead dove do not eat

#serene adds ✎ I have no clue of how this happened lol. PLEASE read every single warning I am begging you. don't read this if as much as one single tag made you waver. ⎯ aside from like the fact that it's stepcest, I fucking love this whole fic. I'm so proud of it and I would actually cry if someone (who got through it) would be up to share some thoughts :>

“There’s still time to turn back..” You mutter as you lean against the leather of the passenger seat. Listening to the bustling engine slowly dying out as the car comes to a stop. “Come on princess, don’t be like that.” Your dad sighs as he retrieves the key, turning it between his fingers. “You knew that this move was coming and-“ — “Yeah, I did. But not this soon, not now.” You argue, folding your arms across your chest in defiance. “You could’ve at least waited until I was out of college, until I had gotten my own place.” 

More than anything you wished to be able to change your father’s mind, to turn things back to how they were before he met Ms Choi. But that was of course impossible, and now you were paying the price for not getting a room on campus. “But look on the bright side, it’s a mere fifteen minute drive to school, and Beomgyu has his license, I’m sure he could take you someday.” Your dad tries, a small smile on his face. — You grimaced at the name, your chest churning in disgust at the mere thought of sharing a car with that thing. 

A tap to your window makes you turn your head in its direction. There stood Ms Choi, she sends you a small wave and before you know it, your father had climbed out of the vehicle, leaving you to sulk. Their voices are muffled through the thick glass but you can see them enveloping each other in a tender hug, your dad leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. With a small grimace your gaze flickers to the small bracelet around your wrist, its fine silver glinting in the sun and your chest contracts slightly. You supposed you should feel happy for him, it had been a long time since you’d last seen your father so at ease, so in love.  

And it wasn’t like you didn’t like his new girlfriend, no you were quite fond of Ms Choi. She was nice, often bringing freshly baked cookies whenever she came over, remembering your favorite foods as she made them when you visited. Most importantly she made your dad feel things he hadn’t felt since the passing of your mother. — You just couldn’t understand how such a sweet woman had managed to raise such a being of a son. 

Beomgyu was far from anything his mother represented. He was loud, obnoxiously so, his foul mouth going off every other second, spewing his hatred for the world and the people in it. Beomgyu listened to deranged music, the kind that made your ears bleed. He blamed his father for all his problems, not to mention taking his pent up anger out on his sweet mom. — The black charcoal around his eyes represented that of the rotting darkness slowly eating away at his soul, and you wondered if Beomgyu had always been angry. Perhaps he came out like that, you were almost certain that he was a menace even as a small baby. 

You had been to Ms Choi’s house a handful of times. It was a small two story flat, neatly decorated in light and inviting shades and smelled of roses. Had it not been for the first room to the right on the second floor, you would’ve probably loved it there. — The small hallway is familiar as you stumble inside, a heavy suitcase clutched tightly in your grasp. “Oh dear, let me help you with that”, Ms Choi fusses as she reaches for your bag but you merely shake your head, “I’m fine miss, don’t worry”, you assure her. 

She turns to your dad who was carrying at least twice your baggage as he walked up the dainty pathway leading to the house. “Beomgyu ought to come down and be of some assistance”, she murmurs as she throws a glance over her shoulder, her eyes traveling up the staircase by the end of the hall. — “I’m sure we’ll be fine!” You quickly chirp, dreading the thought of having to deal with him so soon. But there was no changing Ms Choi’s mind as she immediately calls out for her nuisance of a son. 

You swallow thickly as an eerie silence follows, your dads girlfriend huffs out a short breath as she fiddles with the jewelry around her neck. “Beomgyu! Come down here!” The nervous edge to her voice was palpable and part of you took pity on the sweet lady for being stuck with such a being in her house, no less as her biological child. 

Soon the floorboards above you creak, the old house immediately giving away the presence of someone else on the top floor. You tried tearing your gaze from the stairs, but it seemed impossible as Beomgyu’s figure emerged. His step is heavy as he drags his feet across the floor, his hair had grown longer since last you’d seen him, and that was over four months ago. You often did your best in avoiding him, thus leading the two of you to meeting less than a dozen times during the two years in which your parents had been pursuing one another. Well to hell with that plan now, you thought. 

“Hi darling, why don’t you say hi to-” — “I know who she is.” He cuts her off, sparing you a mere side glance before his gaze shifts to your dad struggling with the suitcases, a look of distaste on his face. “A-Alright”, Ms Choi clears her throat as she motions toward your father, “why don’t you help bring their stuff inside.” She receives only a small huff from her son as Beomgyu pushes past the two of you to venture outside. You don’t miss the flicker of disappointment on his mother’s face. No matter what he did, she would always cherish and protect him. You couldn’t understand why. — She turns to you with an apologetic smile, “your room is down the hall to the right.” 

The stairs felt eternal as you pulled your suitcase up, intent on not needing any extra hands. And when you finally reach flat ground, you heave a sigh. Though the comforting peace was short-lived as the thumping beat of a heavy bass filled your eardrums, the sound overpowering that of the wheels on your suitcase as you rolled it along the wooden floor. With a frown you near the first door, it was slightly ajar, allowing for the ear piercing music to float out into the small corridor. Already familiar with the layout of the house, you recognized the room as Beomgyu’s, and as the owner in question was currently downstairs, you dared a small peek. 

You can’t remember actually being inside his room, merely passing it in search for the bathroom as the first floor lacked one. And it was unlike anything the rest of the house represented. It was messy and crammed. The once cream white walls were covered in a variety of posters portraying his favorite bands, one of which you guessed to currently be playing through the large speakers by his desk. — His bed looked as if it hadn’t been made in weeks, possibly months and he seemed to be making good use of his floor as an alternate wardrobe. His computer was on as well, the bright light of the screen catching your attention in the otherwise dim room as the curtains drawn prevented much sunlight from reaching through. 

Upon closer inspection your eyes widen as you realize what kind of video was playing. The almost naked woman in the footage emits a pornographic moan and your jaw slacks as you take a couple of steps back in complete disbelief. — The room was like a tainted mark left on an otherwise clean canvas. The black lungs of a smoker, rotten and decaying. The only flaw in an otherwise picture perfect home, and you would’ve probably pitied the poor soul living here had it not been Choi Beomgyu. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

The raspy voice sends a shiver down your spine as you twist on the spot, coming face to face with the inhabitant of the room you’d invaded. Beomgyu lingers in the doorway, your discarded suitcase lazily kicked to the side as his brows furrow, the glinting metal on one of them catching your eye, had he always had that piercing? — You gulp, fists clenching before relaxing again. 

“I uh…I was.. I was looking for my room..” The excuse was petty, and you knew he could tell by the way his lips pulled into a small grimace. “Well this certainly isn’t it.” He spits, taking a charging step forward and you feel yourself immediately faltering back against his desk. — “Out.” He grits, and you could’ve sworn you heard the way his teeth ground together as his jaw flexed.

Not having to be told twice, you quickly slip out of the room, the door being slammed shut on your ass in a mere second. “What a dick”, you mutter, though you supposed it was somewhat deserved as you went in his room without permission. — Your own bedroom, on the other hand, matched the rest of the house. It was small, barely fitting your bed and a study desk, but the window gazing out over the front yard was remarkable. Your fingers graze along the lace curtains as you think of the multiple ways in which you’d be able to decorate the tiny space. Perhaps living here could become somewhat bearable, you thought. 

⸝⸝

No. You quickly found that it would become most unbearable to thrive under this roof. Dinner was awkward. As awkward as it could possibly get. The air was dense, laying on top of your table like a thick blanket, enveloping your party of four in a stale silence. The sounds of silverware scraping against porcelain plates fill the dainty dining room. Every bite felt like a piece of rock sliding down your throat and no matter how hard you trained your gaze to the cut piece of meat in front of you, Beomgyu’s eyes felt like daggers on your skin. Was he still mad about earlier? 

“So, Beomgyu, I hear you’re about to start your senior year as well.” Your father clears his throat, turning to the younger male with a small smile. Beomgyu’s gaze finally shifts away from your near sweating figure and over to your dad as he sends him an almost unnoticeable nod. The statement made your eyebrows raise in surprise, he was a year older than you, shouldn’t he have graduated before summer? — Beomgyu answers your unspoken question in a bored sigh, “failed my last year.” 

“Oh but he’s worked hard to be able to retake his classes this upcoming semester!” His mother suddenly butts in as she places a hand on top of your father’s. You watch their small exchange before your eyes flit over to Beomgyu who looked almost disgusted at the close proximity your parents held. Of course he would be against it, you wondered if there was anything that didn’t make his nose scrunch up in disdain. 

“Then perhaps the two of you can study together?” Ms Choi suddenly exclaims as she looks to you with an expression best described as hopeful. “Your father tells me you do well in school.” — “Of course, my princess is in the top of her class”, your dad boasts as he flashes you a small grin. You sheepishly nod, cheeks reddening at the sudden attention directed your way. “Why, isn’t that an amazing idea, Beom?” His mother cheers to which her son grimaces, “wonderful.” 

You didn’t like Beomgyu. And you thought you had every reason not to. You had never met someone so completely disregarding of other people’s feelings. Someone so selfish and arrogant, someone who took so much for granted. Like his mom. — You supposed you envied him a little. Ms Choi was such a wonderful person, not to mention an amazing mother. You often found yourself reminiscing of what you’d lost when in her presence. But Beomgyu seemed to hold little affection for something you longed so desperately to have. — You remember the evening clearly, the first night you met, two years ago. 

Dinner was awkward even back then. 

You’re sat gathered around the very same table, in the very same seats. Back then you had a small crush on him, on Beomgyu. How could you not? He was everything you weren’t, everything you thought you wanted to be. The expressive t-shirt he wore, a band you didn’t recognize, but you guessed it to be some type of rock. His slightly baggy jeans, decorated with a few simple chains. Dark hair, though it was shorter back then, and of course, the liner around his eyes. It was impossible not to be drawn to him. But he didn’t look at you, not once. 

You helped your dad clear the table whilst Beomgyu accompanied his mom in the kitchen as she prepared dessert. “What do you think of her?” Your father asks with a hopeful smile. You knew that he was nervous about introducing someone new to you, and Ms Choi would be the first woman he’d seen since your mother’s passing. You weren’t oblivious to the fact that your approval weighed like a ton of bricks on your dads shoulders, and you didn’t want to let him down. 

“She seems sweet.” 

He sighs, a relieved sigh. “Do you like her?” You ask, unable to hide the small frown on your face. Your father remains silent for a moment, his hands busying themselves with stacking the plates on top of one another. “I do”, he nods, his face immediately lighting up as he sees your small smile. But before you get another word out, the voice of Ms Choi pierces the quaint house. 

Neither of you move, but the conversation between Beomgyu and his mother was no longer private. “Well if that’s how you really feel, then perhaps you’ll find your father’s place a more suitable living space.” Ms Choi exclaims, her voice is thick, as if on the verge of breaking at any given moment. A brief silence follows her words, and you hold your breath.

“That piece of shit lowlife?” Beomgyu suddenly seethes and his mom quickly interrupts him. “Don’t call him that.” She sounds almost pleading. — Her son chuckles and if you had been able to see him, you would guess that he was shaking his head. “You still let him get away with all the shit he’s done?” — “Oh come on, you know it’s not like that, Beom..” 

“He’s an asshole, mom.” Beomgyu finally states, his voice holds no resentment, in fact it barely holds any emotion at all. “And you, you’re both naive and stupid for thinking he’s anything else.” — Then he re-emerges from the kitchen, not sparing either you or your father as much as a second glance as he heads for the front door, it slams shut behind him, leaving the faint sobs of Ms Choi to echo through the small house. 

Your dad rushes to the kitchen, but you remain frozen in place. His small whispers of reassurance carry out into the dining room as he tries to comfort the crying mess that was his girlfriend. Your eyes flit between the small opening to the kitchen and the hallway; feeling more than conflicted as you gnaw on your bottom lip.

After a few moments of hesitation, you finally come to a decision as you tear yourself from your spot by the since long vacant table. Quietly, you retrace Beomgyu’s last steps and you, too, push the heavy door open. — The cold night air hits your bare arms making you wrap them around yourself as you begin walking down the gravel pathway. You really had no idea of where he might’ve gone, or how you were even supposed to find him. But as you push the squeaking fence gate open, you know that you won’t have to look far. 

Perched on the sidewalk, knees tucked to his chest, Beomgyu leans his chin on top of his folded arms. Drawing in a small breath, you muster up the courage to do what you had come out here for. — He doesn’t say anything as you take a seat beside him, mimicking his actions by pulling your knees to your chest as you wrap your arms around them. You weren’t exactly good at comforting people, but you knew what sadness felt like, it was all you had been able to feel for three months after your mother’s death. 

“You here to fuckin’ lecture me too?” He spits, his gaze is fixed on the asphalt road in front of him. Perhaps Beomgyu’s sadness was different from yours. You shake your head, though you’re unsure if he can even see it. And for a moment, everything is silent. There was a nervous feeling bubbling within your chest, you didn’t know if it was because of your small crush on him or because of the argument you just witnessed between him and his mom. The argument sounded stupid in your ears, and it got you wondering.. 

“Why do you hate your father?” Your words ring out in the quiet night air, and somewhere to your left, you feel Beomgyu shift against the concrete sidewalk. You guess he hadn’t expected the question. — “‘Cause he’s a piece of shit.” He huffs, though his voice lacks the spite it held when in discussion with his mom. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you frown. “But he’s still your father, isn’t he?” 

Beomgyu might as well have laughed in your face. He shakes his head, one of his hands ruffling through his dark hair before he lets it fall to his side. “That changes nothing”, he states. You were tempted to disagree, it changed everything, didn’t it? To hate someone, to hate someone so close to you, someone so important.. You don’t think you could ever hate your father. 

“Have you tried talking to him?” Perhaps it was a stupid proposal, but in truth, you were at loss for ideas. Beomgyu snorts, his worn out sneakers kicking a few small rocks as he lets them roll out across the street. “You can’t talk to someone like him, and even if I could, I would have nothing to say to him.” — He draws in a sharp breath, holding it for a good moment before he slowly lets it go. “Some people..” he begins, his fingers picking at a few strands of vegetation that had managed to seep through the cracks of the constructed road. “Some people don’t deserve to have kids, some people shouldn’t have them.” 

You’re silent after that, unsure of what to say. He was right, some people were not meant to be parents. You wondered what his dad could have possibly done to warrant such hatred from his only son. It felt wrong to pry, so you didn’t. He would tell you one day, when he was ready, at least you thought so. — “But your mom is–” 

“My mom is stupid.” He spits, his expression suddenly turning sour. You didn't like how Beomgyu spoke about his mother, or how he spoke to her. “She doesn’t understand how fucked up dad is, and she still defends him despite everything he’s done.” — He bites the inside of his cheek, his brows furrowing together as his gaze remains ahead. “She’s truly pathetic.” 

Your chest churned at the statement. And perhaps your relationship with Beomgyu would’ve turned out different, had you not said your next words. But you couldn’t help it, and you didn’t regret it either. “At least you have a mother.” It angered you. It angered you that he treated people so close to him with such hatred. Did he not understand? Not everyone had the privilege of seeing their mom everyday, not everyone got to feel her warm embrace, eat her food, have her kiss your cheek. 

Beomgyu’s hatred was selfish. He was selfish. Because you would have done anything to see your mother one last time. — He turns to you, and for the first time that night, he looks at you. “And that makes you so special?” His gaze narrows down on you, the dark liner around his eyes only makes his expression look twice as gloomy. “You think you’re the only one who’s life is shit just because your mom went and died?” 

His words stung, like salt on a fresh wound, slowly being rubbed in. You fight back the tears that were prickling in the corners of your eyes. You just wanted to help. But you were obviously not very good at comforting people, still, you thought that he might’ve been at least a little understanding. How idiotic of you. Beomgyu rises to his feet, giving the gravel beneath him one final kick as it flies everywhere. 

“Don’t think you know the first thing about me just because you’ve heard me and my mom argue once.” His expression darkens even further in the pale night, and you swallow a small sob. “And don’t for a second think that we have anything in common, or that you have the right to talk to me like that.” He snaps, hands digging into the denim of his jeans, the chains on them rattling as he does. 

“It’s not my fault your mommy died, but let me give you a piece of advice yeah?” He leans down, his face inches from your own and you resist the urge to pull back, instead blinking up at him as a nasty sneer casts over his features. “Get over it.” 

With that, he straightens himself back up, letting out a small scoff as he turns on his heel before venturing down the street. — Beomgyu didn’t come back home that night, Ms Choi told you so, you didn’t know where he went, you didn’t care. From that point on, you hated Choi Beomgyu, you hated everything that was him, everything that reminded you of him. But most of all, you hated anything that made you feel like he had made you feel that night; the night he’d left you on the street to sob in your hands. 

⸝⸝

Your first official night under Ms Choi’s roof felt weird, it didn’t feel at all like home, maybe because it wasn’t, or maybe because you laid in bed with the knowledge that Beomgyu was only a room away. — It was dark, the soft glow of the moon seeping through your lace curtains. You had yet to fully unpack, your small night lamp long forgotten about in one of the boxes downstairs. The room smelled weird too, it didn’t smell like home, like mom. 

Despite it being years since she passed you often found resolve in venturing inside your parents room, the room that smelled the most of her. How you would let the tips of your fingers trail across the smooth bed sheets as you imagined her sleeping form. — The first months after her passing you even found yourself going through her old clothes, trying to keep anything that carried her scent close. But even the house itself held her presence, her laughter echoing off the walls, her soft hum as she prepared dinner, her cheerful voice as she skipped down the stairs. 

This house did not hold a single trace of your mother, she was truly gone. Your dad had moved on, he had fallen in love, he’d stopped being miserable, he no longer cried for his deceased wife in the darkest hours of night. Did that make him a bad person? You wanted to hate him for leaving your mom behind, even though she was technically the one who had left you. You wanted to tell him that he should never love a woman that wasn’t her. But you couldn’t. And you wouldn’t. — Your father was happy now. 

Perhaps Beomgyu had been right that night. Perhaps you should get over it. Perhaps you should’ve gotten over it a long time ago. But you didn’t want to, because getting over it meant letting go, letting go of your mom, and you didn’t want that. She was your mom.

Your fingers instinctively reach for the bracelet around your wrist, fiddling with the silver anxiously. This was your last piece of her, your last line, the string that still connected you to her. — You treasured it dearly yet you couldn’t but feel almost melancholic whenever you turned the jewelry around in your hands, an immense wave of sadness washing over you as the small piece kept reminding you of what you’d lost. 

You shake the tears away, sitting up as you lean against the bed frame. You wouldn’t cry tonight, you wouldn’t allow that. Instead your mind wanders down the hall, down to the room on your left. You wondered what Beomgyu was up to, was he already asleep? Maybe he was feeling restless too.. “What the fuck”, you scoff, shaking your head at the glimpse of sincerity you cast his way. Having already gone through with that mistake once, you would be sure to not make it again. Beomgyu didn’t deserve your sympathy. 

He didn’t deserve anything. 

⸝⸝

The following weeks went by in almost a blur. Your dad and you got settled in quickly, and with the help of Ms Choi, you now had a wildflower blooming by the sill of your window. Not to mention the pink rug you had so carefully picked out as you laid it in the center of your room. — But happiest was probably your father. It was sweet, seeing how giddy he got whenever the new woman in his life was around, you liked watching him fall in love. And without you even realizing it, the small house soon began to feel like home. 

Even you and Beomgyu got along fine, if getting along was what you could call it. You had silently conducted a small routine which was to be strictly followed by the two of you. It helped ensure that you wouldn’t have to run into one another more than absolutely necessary. — First, you always used the bathroom at seven. He was never up by then and you enjoyed having free access to both the shower and toilet as you took your time getting ready for the day. 

Second, your rooms were strictly prohibited areas, under no circumstances were you allowed to step foot inside his personal space, nor was he to do so in yours. That didn’t change the fact that he would continuously blast his ear screeching music so loud that the floorboards thumped in rhythm to the beat. Nor did it change the way you threw your hairbrush against the wall in an attempt to get him to shut up, not that it ever proved successful. 

Third, and perhaps the most important one; you did not know each other outside of home. Senior year in college started about two weeks ago, and within the four confined walls of the school building, you and Beomgyu were nothing but mere strangers. Not that the same couldn’t be said for the way you treated each other back at home. Which leads you on to another unspoken rule, the rule that made your parents believe that you got along just fine. 

You think it was said last rule that made everything come crumbling down one October night. 

“A whole week?” You splutter, your fork slipping from your grasp and hitting the porcelain plate in front of you. Ms Choi makes a small grimace at your blunt shock but quickly masks it with a smile, “yes, me and your father were thinking..” — “Come on princess”, your dad interrupts, leaning forward ever so slightly. “You’re more than old enough to sit the house for a week, besides, we’ve been meaning to get some alone time.” He sends you a look that practically screams, “don’t fuck this up for me, alright?” 

With a small groan you nod, “yeah it’s alright I suppose.” But it wasn’t, in fact it was far from it. This meant that you would have to spend a full seven days, locked up in the same house as Beomgyu, with no one to save you. “Is this what people call dark humor?” You mutter, though not loud enough for anyone to pick up on, at least you thought they couldn’t. Opposite you, Beomgyu’s lip twitches as his tongue prods against the inside of his cheek, his fingers playing with the rings on his hands; clearly not oblivious to your small comment. 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine”, Ms Choi adds in a most lighthearted tone. Your dad slowly nods as his gaze flits between you and Beomgyu, watching as you both turned to shoot him a small smile. 

⸝⸝

“And don’t forget to lock the door, oh and I’ve written down all the emergency numbers on a piece of paper plastered on the fridge, and there’s–” — “Dad, I’m fine.” You take his hands in yours, giving them a light squeeze and your father grins, “right, sorry princess.” He throws a quick glance over his shoulder to where Ms Choi was waiting by the car, having already shared a most quick farwell with her son. 

“Go, I’ll be okay”, you sigh as you urge him toward the door. “Alright, alright, just promise to call if anything happens.” He pleads as he ruffles your already disheveled hair due to the amount of hugs he had insisted on. You give him an affirmative nod as he steps out. “Love you, princess!” Is the last thing he gets out before you close the front door in his face, worried that you might never have him leave if you didn’t. The hallway quickly becomes enveloped in a near deafening silence, the emptiness of the house palpable. But the short-lived peace would soon be disrupted. 

“Fuck, are you fourteen or twenty?” Beomgyu jeers as he leans against the doorframe leading into the living room, arms folded across his torso. He’s dressed in a pair of loose jeans that hung low on his waist, and had it not been for the even baggier t-shirt thrown on his chest, you would’ve probably caught more than a glimpse of his stomach. The piece of jewelry on his eyebrow glints in the faint morning light as he sends you a small frown. 

It was too early for any of his snarky remarks, you thought as you swallowed a deep breath. Just ignore him, don’t bite back, that’s what he wants. But as you watch his conceding smirk practically double in size at your silence, you find yourself unable to hold back. “Well at least I talk to him.” It was a low blow, and you knew it. You didn’t care, for the way his face dropped, if only for a brief moment, made it all worth it. 

Beomgyu was quick to hide his initial surprise as he shifted against the doorframe, his dark eyes narrowing down on you. “It’s hardly like you’ve got anyone else to confide in”, he drawls, and you bite the inside of your cheek at his subtle acknowledgement of the lunches you spent alone in the school cafeteria. Your fists clench, your anger on the verge of slipping past the weakening brims of your control. 

“You think you’re so much better, huh?” Your angered huff is met by a low chuckle but before he gets a reply out, you cut him off. “I’m not the one retaking a whole year of college, I mean, I knew you were stupid, but this exceeds any of my previous assumptions.” The words slipped from your lips without you being able to stop them, and it felt good, really good. Beomgyu’s jaw visibly clenches at the insult thrown his way, the arms over his chest flexing as his body tensed. 

Feeling almost high off of the harsh remarks, you continue. “Let’s not even bring up your mom. You can barely look her in the eyes, you treat her like absolute shit, and at your grown age too.” — It’s his turn to flare up now, his previously stunned expression immediately morphing into a scowl as he charges forward. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about her in front of me.” He seethes, teeth grinding against each other as he reaches you, his fingers wrapping around the collar of your blouse as he shoves you against the wall with a thud. 

For the two years in which you had known Beomgyu, sorry, been acquainted with, you don’t think the two of you had ever as much as even shook hands, much less hugged. But now his face was only inches from yours, burning with so much rage that you thought you might just combust into a pile of ashes on the floor. His chest heaves, and his grip on your shirt is near deadly as he yanks the fabric up, his taller frame looming over your own. 

You scoff, trying to mask the unease that immediately surged within your chest at his close proximity. “See? Can’t even bring your mom up without you throwing a hissy fit", you jeer. — The scowl once on his lips, slowly turns into a sneer, a sly look emerging on his face, like you had just said exactly what he needed to hear, given him the opportunity he’d been searching for. 

His breath is warm on your already hot body as he speaks. “Well it’s not exactly like you’re any better.” You catch his tongue dragging across his bottom lip, as if savouring the moment, his eyes focused solely on the way your once stoic expression fell. “Can’t even mention her without you bursting out into tears.” — You open your mouth to object, your brows furrowing at the accusation but he’s quicker, shamelessly cutting you off to get his point across. “There’s no use in denying it. Don’t you think I’ve heard you? Crying in your room late at night, crying for your dead mommy.”

His gaze snaps to your wrist, hand darting out to grab ahold of it as his thumb slides across the bracelet resting there. “And this? A souvenir of her death? That’s pathetic.” He cocks his head to the side, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. “It’s like a child sleeping with stuffed toys”, he sneers, letting go of you with a small grimace before his grip returns to the collar of your shirt. 

You hated the way your teary eyes almost immediately gave you away, and you fervently tried to blink them away; much to no avail as Beomgyu chuckled. “Did I hit a nerve?” He wonders, voice laced with fabricated pity. It made you sick to your stomach. — “Sorry, princess”, he coos, but nothing about the way he gripped onto your flimsy blouse made for a convincing apology. Your eyes narrow at the familiar nickname and his smirk only widens. “Isn’t that what your daddy would say? Princess?” 

Hearing the name you treasured so dearly coming from his mouth, the word tainted with his hatred and evil, it made you bite the inside of your lip, hard. “What? Don’t like it?” He hums, his fingers on your shirt loosening, if only slightly as he leans even closer. It was easy to make out the details of his face now, the piercing stuck through the skin of his eyebrow, the area slightly red, as if irritated. The dark charcoal around his eyes, you wondered if he slept in it, probably. You will your gaze to stay locked with his, not daring to glance down at his lips. 

“Then what should I call you? Sis? Sister? Little Sister?” He looks almost as if he’s about to burst into laughter and you wanted nothing more than to slap that disgusting smirk from his face. “I’m not your sister.” You state, refusing to ever be perceived in such a way. — Beomgyu let’s his head fall to the side, his brows raising in a flicker of surprise. “But we’re family now, aren’t we?” 

You close your eyes, thinking that maybe if you just pretended that he wasn’t there for an extended period of time, he might actually disappear. But once you reopen them, you find him still watching you, his smirk stretched so wide that he almost appeared uncanny. “You don’t know the first thing about what makes a family.” You let your words linger in the now very thick air, watching with an almost gleeful expression as Beomgyu lets out a small scoff, though leaning back as he lets go of your shirt. 

“Quit trying to act like you’ve got me all figured out.” Is all he says, his voice now eerily calm, a kind of calm that makes your blood run cold. — “Then quit acting like such a terrible person, and maybe people would start seeing you for something else.” You mutter, your words not intended for his ears to catch, but they do. His gaze flickers over your body, pressed against the wall in an attempt to create as much space between the two of you as humanly possible. 

He shakes his head, his lip twitching as he runs a hand through his long hair. “How about you quit trying to act like you know what makes a terrible person.” — His words leave you silenced long enough for him to make his escape as he heads for the staircase. The last thing you see is his dark retreating figure, the sound of him trudging up the steps filling the house. You slump against the wall, letting out a shaky exhale as you let your eyes fall closed, already dreading the week ahead. 

⸝⸝

To your surprise, day one and two went by like usual, with the absence of your father and Ms Choi of course. You and Beomgyu managed to avoid one another just like normal, and whilst you ate dinner downstairs, he always brought his food to his room. Sometimes it was almost as if you were living alone, you had the whole house pretty much to yourself and you often took the opportunity to lounge by the sofa in the living room. 

After your fight two days ago, part of you had thought that things might worsen even further between the two of you. But if anything, you’d seen even less of him than you usually would and you think you could count the interactions you’d shared with him on your fingers. 

Your whole body feels heavy as your head hits the pillow that night. Four more days, you tell yourself. You could do four more days. All you had to do was keep up the role you’d been playing for the past three days. 

And as you lay in bed, you let your thoughts wander, wander to your dad. The two of you engaged in shorter calls every evening. It was a nice distraction from your otherwise plaguing reality. Your father told you about the beach, the ocean and the seashells; he and Ms Choi were staying at a hotel by the seaside for the week, and you felt your heart swell at the excitement in his voice. 

“You’ll have to come with us next time!” He exclaimed, the powerful winds surrounding him made his words come out jagged on the other end of the line. Still, you thought you were able to make out the faint sounds of waves crashing against the shore as he walked along the water. — “I’d be happy to”, you agree, a small grin playing on your lips at the thought of going on vacation with your dad again, it had been so long. 

Soon Ms Choi joins your conversation, you hear them share a quick kiss before her tender voice addresses you. “How’s Beomgyu doing dear?” She wonders and your smile immediately falters at the mention of his name. You bite your lip, unsure of what to say, did she not talk to him, not at all, not once? — In the end, you settle for something for half a lie and half a truth. “He’s doing fine.” 

Your dads girlfriend exhales on the other line as she thanks you. “Are you two getting along well?” Your father asks, a hint of suspicion following his inquiry. Even though Ms Choi was quick to defend her son, your dad still seemed to hold back when it came to him, if only slightly. “We’re doing just fine.” You lied, not wanting to address just how awkward things were and how you most definitely wanted them to return home as soon as possible. You wouldn’t ruin your dads shot at happiness just to soothe your own worries. 

But as night approaches, the faint glow of the moon seeping through your thin curtains, you find yourself unable to sleep. Though this time, it’s not because of your reeling mind, rather a faint noise coming from the room down the hall and to your left. — During your previous nights, the house had been eerily silent, almost deafening as it added to the feeling of you living there alone. And Beomgyu was not one to play music at such an hour, even though he was likely still very much awake. 

With a small frown you sit up, fingers grasping the bed sheets beneath you as you shift on the mattress. It was near impossible to make out any details regarding the noise, only a hushed sequence here and there could be heard and your frown deepens. But your desire for a full night’s sleep quickly overweighs any doubt as you’re reminded of the early morning class you had the following day, and the bed squeaks as you gingerly climb off of it, quietly venturing out into the dark hallway to face whatever awaits you. 

You’re able to locate the source of the sound as soon as you step out into the dark hall, and your throat goes dry as your eyes seize the door leading to Beomgyu’s bedroom. — The floorboards creak under your weight, making you freeze as you listen for a shift in the noise coming from his room, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed. 

Carefully you creep forward, a hand on the wall to guide you as you near your target. The closer you get the clearer the noise gets, and for a moment you wondered if he was hurt as deep grunt-like sounds slipped through the crack of the wooden door. What would you even tell him? Biting the inside of your cheek, you shake your head. Just yell at him, cause a scene, do something.

Your fingers are wrapped around the door handle when you suddenly stop, your heart practically leaping out of your chest as a small moan reaches your ears. Stunned, you remain frozen in place as you listen to the ragged breathing of Beomgyu, coming from inside his bedroom and your foggy brain slowly pieces together what he was up to. A wave of disgust washes over you, perhaps even embarrassment at having caught him doing something like that. 

It takes you about half a minute to snap out of your initial shock, eyes darting back down the hall as you plan to make your escape, because there was no way you were going to let him know that you’d heard him. But just as you turn around to head back to safety, a deep groan makes you halt. “Mhhn fuck”, Beomgyu grunts, his voice muffled by the wall separating you but you clearly catch the ragged moan following the curse. 

You thought you could make out something else in the far background, a faint whisper of someone else. He hadn’t brought someone over had he? No, that’s impossible, you would’ve known. And soon the all too familiar and almost theatrical moan of a woman pierces the air.

Teeth latching on to your bottom lip, you stand torn, your brain desperately yelling for you to leave, to forget that any of this ever happened, to not pry further and spare your last bits of sanity. But another part of you, a far more sinister one, keeps your body locked in place, making you unable to move neither forward nor back; forcing you to listen as your Beomgyu gets off to some cheap porn video in his room.

You felt dirty just by hearing him, but the other part of you felt something dangerously close to excitement, your heart thumping unmistakably faster as your gaze flickers back toward his shut door. 

“H-ah..” He breathes and you swallow a gulp, sweat sliding down your forehead at the strange feelings swirling inside of you. Your hands clench at your sides, shivers rippling through your body as you hold your tongue, terrified of making your presence known. — He should be ashamed, not you, you had merely passed by, right? So why did you feel so bashful standing here, right outside his room, in the middle of the night, like some creep. 

“Mhhn fucking hell”, he croaks and you screw your eyes shut, desperately trying to erase the images playing in front of you like that of an old film. Images of him, his head thrown back, his lips slightly parted, lidded eyes and his hand… his hand wrapped around– “Oh my god”, you breathe, bracing yourself against the wall as your head falls forward. You had to get out of here. 

⸝⸝

Disgusting. That’s what he was. Not only a loathsome person but a pervert too. And as you walk down the familiar street, your school bag flung over your shoulder, you think of ways to confront him about his behavior. He was in the wrong here, not you. Besides, your request for him to keep it down at night was reasonable. 

The wooden fence gate feels rough under the tips of your fingers as you push it open, your eyes falling on the quaint house before you. The gravel makes a crunching noise beneath your shoes as you near the front door, the lump in your throat only growing in size. — It was such a pretty house, and to think that something so dark resided within its walls made you sick. Still, you unlock the old door and make your way inside. 

The familiar scent of roses invades your senses almost immediately and you take pride in the comforting smell, allowing yourself to just stay for a moment. You knew that he was home already, having spotted his car on your way back, and it didn’t exactly take a genius to figure out where he was currently lounging at. — Discarding your bag alongside your shoes, you begin the small journey up the stairs, not planning on prolonging the inevitable conversation. 

The blaring music fills your ears as soon as you reach the top step and you heave a sigh. You could do this, you wouldn’t back down. — The first knock is petty, weak, barely audible over the heavy bass thumping on the other side. You bite your lip, raising your fist once more, this time you give the wood a harsher tap. But still, nothing. You stand there for a moment, listening to the unfamiliar song playing and you wonder why he felt the need to drown himself in music as vile as that. Perhaps it was to quiet the undeniably gruesome thoughts you could only imagine filled his mind. 

“Beomgyu!” You shout his name, knuckles near hurting as they pound the door in front of you. Finally, the loud melody comes to an abrupt halt and you can hear him shuffling about inside his room, the soft padding of footsteps approaching and soon he reveals himself. — He looks the same as he always did, as he always had. Except he looks…different. You think it might have something to do with what you had heard him do the previous night. Because something was different, something was no longer the same. 

“What do you want?” He spits, the words sound almost like an accusation and you watch as his brows furrow, dark gaze narrowing down on you. Suddenly, you feel your composure crumble, the phrases you’d gone over in your head so many times on the way back home suddenly diminishing to nothing as you stand before him. Your lips part, for whatever excuse you could possibly find but Beomgyu beats you to the case. 

“If you’re here to complain about how you miss your daddy then I don’t give a shit.” 

Your mouth closes again, your brows mimicking his frown as you peer up at him. Is that what he thinks of you? Is that how he perceives you? As nothing more but a crybaby who can’t go a day without her father, who sobs herself to sleep in the absence of her mother? — “That’s not why I–” — “Like I said”, he cuts you off, his gaze hardening, “I don’t give a shit.” 

The grimace painting your face is surely unmistakable and your fists clench as you swallow back the insults waiting on your tongue. “Well I do”, you say, masking your otherwise trembling voice with firmness as you maintain the tense eye contact. Beomgyu appears, if not surprised then at least taken aback, his lip twitching as he lets out a short huff. He folds his arms over his chest, covering the print on his black t-shirt, seemingly waiting for you to continue. 

“I’m here to…to ask you..” You find yourself stumbling over your rehearsed lines, mind fumbling for a way to approach the situation without making it awkward for the both of you. Not wanting him to know that you’d heard him but also wanting him to be aware of the fact that you knew exactly what he’d been up to. — “What I want to say is, please keep it down..at…at night, some of us are trying to sleep you know..” 

Carefully you peek up at him, trying your hardest to subtly gauge his reaction. But Beomgyu only hums, his brows raising in play-pretend surprise as he leans against the doorframe. “Keep what down? It’s not exactly like I’m blasting music or anythin’” he muses. You shake your head, “that’s not what I’m asking, I’m asking you to keep it down when…when y-you you know..” 

The smirk slowly etching its way to his lips should’ve told you everything you needed to know. That he was just looking for ways to push you further, to rile you up and get you flustered, but for some reason it didn’t, and you kept going. — “When I what?” He wonders, eyes flickering over your guarded stance as you awkwardly shift in front of him, letting your weight fall on one leg. “Come on, you know what I mean”, you practically whine, not caring about how immature and childish you sounded as you avoided actually uttering the words out loud. 

“When I jack off?” He asks, his tone nonchalant as his hands slide down the pockets of his already low hanging jeans. You meekly nod, gaze dropping to the floor as your cheeks flush with color. “Y-Yeah that…you’re kind of..loud”, you cough, anxiously crossing your arms over your chest as you clear your throat. 

Beomgyu seems to be considering your words for a moment, his attention fixed on something behind you as he quietly hums. But then he leans forward, his face landing almost inches from your own and you can clearly see the smudged liner around his eyes now. “And you’ve got a problem with that?” He tilts his head to the side, studying you expectantly. 

“Come on now, sis”, he drawls and you cringe, hating how the word sounded on his lips. “You can’t possibly tell me that you’re not twice as loud when you touch yourself.” — The statement made your eyes blow wide as your jaw slacked. Feebly you shake your head in an attempt to deny his accusations. “I- No!” You shriek, taking a small step back as your hands wave in objection. “I don’t– I don’t do stuff…stuff like that..” 

Beomgyu’s smirk widens as he watches your apprehensive response, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Stuff like that?” He repeats, the sentence sickly sweet on his tongue. “You mean you’ve never played with yourself like that? How dull.” — You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling beyond parched as you shake your head once more. Was that so bad? Did that make you so different? You’d never understood the appeal, never felt those feelings, never even had a boyfriend. It shouldn’t matter should it? 

So why did it make Beomgyu look at you like that? Like you had just become something completely different in his eyes, something prized, something desirable. “Really?” He repeats, as if unbelieving of what he was currently hearing. Your quiet “no” is met by an even more menacing smirk as his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek. 

“Why, your daddy must be real’ proud of you then”, he grins and you feel your stomach twist. — “N-No he doesn’t care about stuff like that.” Because why would he? He was your father, sure you were close but some things were better off kept private. But it seemed no matter what you said could make the hungry look in his gaze go away and you felt your heart rate increase tenfold. 

Beomgyu merely scoffs, clearly not buying your truths. “Well then your daddy doesn’t know how much of life his daughter is truly missing out on.” — You frown, straightening your back if only slightly as you regard him with a hint of determination. “I’m not missing out on anything, to be frank, I’m quite happy the way I am right now.” You give a short pause, stopping only to give him a quick one over. “Not that the same can be said for you.” 

It feels good to watch his once smug expression morph into a much more scowl-like one as he lets out a short huff. When he doesn’t say anything, you feel a proud smirk crawling its way to your lips and you barely manage to conceal it as you turn to walk back to your room. — Only when you’ve reached your door, does he speak again, and you’re surprised to find him still lingering by his own doorway. 

“Do happy people cry everyday too, or is that just you?” 

⸝⸝

You’re unable to get his words out of your mind and you spend the majority of the following night mulling over them. “Do happy people cry everyday?” Do they? Was crying necessarily a bad thing? People cry when they’re happy too, people cry for a variety of reasons. Some merely sniffle,  some sob whilst others practically scream. Could happiness really be measured in tears or was that just something he’d said to get on your nerves, to have the last word? 

You lay tossing and turning in bed, your blanket bunching up around your legs before you eventually kicked it off again. — If only your mom was still around, she would be sure to have an answer, for she always did.. You nod to yourself as you mindlessly fiddle with the bracelet around your wrist.

Perhaps you were over analyzing his words, twisting and turning something completely meaningless for hours on end. But it was the only way you’d be able to feel at ease. You had a habit of trying to understand things on a deeper level, knowledge comforted you. It was why you nearly drowned yourself in your studies, why you spent so much time indulging in literature or film. It was your escape. 

Part of you supposed you should have Beomgyu completely figured out by now, with the way you memorized each snarky comment of his. But you never did, it felt like you knew nothing about him yet everything all at once. Maybe your knowledge of him was biased. You’d been quick to snap his picture, to paint a vision of him so sinister that you found it hard to view him any differently. — In your eyes, Beomgyu was a selfish and bad person, a person who did not feel empathy nor compassion for others. And perhaps that was why your theories about him seemed to lead you down the same path each time. 

But you didn't think that you were a close minded person… Was there really something you had missed, something you had overlooked? Was there more to Beomgyu than he let on to? 

You don’t have to ponder much longer for a quiet knock to your door rips you from the deep thoughts previously consuming your mind. With a small flinch you shot up from your bed, crawling back against the headboard as your eyes trained on the entryway to your room. For a moment you think it might be an intruder, but what kind of thief would knock? — Not only knock but proceed to open the door without waiting for a reply. You only knew one person so unthoughtful. 

Beomgyu’s shadow is dark, shielded from the dim luminance of the moon mere feet away from him as he stands in the doorway. One step forward would reveal his face entirely, and you find yourself both longing and dreading for him to move. — Why was he here? You guys made sure to avoid one another diligently so why was he willingly ruining it? 

“I can help you.” 

His voice is low, but he speaks clearly. A crease runs along your forehead as your brows pull into a frown. “Help me?” You repeat, the confusion evident in your tone as you shift against the pillow behind your back. Beomgyu nods, taking a bold step forward which casts an eerie glow across the side of his face. Your gaze flickers from his intense and dark eyes to his lips, pulled into a small smirk and your stomach drops. 

You knew why he was here. Because what other motive could he possibly have? — You had seen the way he treated those around him, you had witnessed the effect he had on his mom as she fell to her knees in tears, the way his words had sliced through you like daggers of a knife, shamelessly cutting your barely healed skin. Beomgyu made things around him die, every touch of his was poison, lethal. And now he had come to kill you too. 

It wasn’t like his sudden change in demeanor was unexpected, you knew that he was capable of breaking things, breaking people. He had just never paid you much attention because he thought you were already broken. The death of your mother slowly eating you away as you cried for her each night. — But you can tell he’s had a change of heart, the way his eyes rake across your body, barely concealed by the flimsy pajamas you wore, untainted, untouched, pure. Ready for him to kill. 

“I don’t need your help.” You try to evade him off, convince him that you were no object of his affection. But it was impossible. Beomgyu shakes his head, slowly approaching your bed before he takes a seat, causing the cushion beneath him to dip slightly. — “You don’t even know what I’m about to offer you”, he muses, fingers trailing up your exposed leg and you quickly withdraw it, stuffing it beneath the blanket. 

“I know that I do not need it”, you bite back, twisting your body as far away from him as possible. He huffs out a short breath, biting the inside of his cheek, seemingly in deep thought. You peer at him through the corner of your eye, lips curling into a small grimace. — “Do you plan on living in the dark forever then?” He finally wonders, his voice a mere murmur and you frown. “I could show you, show you the light”, he hums, fingers drumming against the mattress leisurely. 

You’re unable to hide the scoff you emit before turning back to face him. “You couldn’t find light if it so much as presented itself in front of you.” Beomgyu’s jaw visibly clenches at your words, his hand stilling against the bed as his gaze flickers up to meet yours, an underlying twinge of curiosity lingering behind his otherwise cold and emotionless eyes. —  “No? And why’s that?” 

Your lip twitches, a small grimace of pure disgust threatening to overtake your entire face as you regard him with disdain. “Because something as dark and twisted as you cannot possibly seek light. You repell it.” 

The last sentence rings out in the silent air, and you watch as the intrigue in his eyes becomes put out like that of a dying fire. His expression contorted into the one you knew so well, the cruel one, the one that hurt people. “What, and you think you’re some kind of saint?” He jeers, trying to mask where your words had evidently stung. — Were you a saint? Hardly. But you didn’t hurt the people around you just because you could, just because life had treated you unfairly. That was the difference between you and Beomgyu. 

“You know what I think of you?” He says, the bed squeaking as he leans forward, dangerously close. “I think you’re scared.” He drawls, eyes boring into your own with so much vigor that you almost felt pity for the anger that consumed him. How miserable he must be to live like that. — “I’m not scared.” You calmly state, shifting against the pillows as you instinctively try to create distance between the two of you. Quickly taking note of your hesitant body language, he smirks, “no? Then prove it.”

“Prove that you’re not afraid of the darkness, of my darkness.” 

You remain silent for a moment, watching as he awaits your answer, your next course of action. Was this a bad idea? Probably. You had told yourself over and over that you wouldn’t let yourself get consumed by him, become tainted by his flawed hands. Yet you find yourself reaching for the blanket covering your body, pulling it from your legs as you discard it on the floor. Beomgyu follows the movement with an amused look, an almost wicked one before his smokey eyes snap back to yours. 

“Fine”, you say, adjusting yourself on the bed as you let your hands fall to your sides, “show me.” The simple statement makes his face twist into a look of pure smugness and Beomgyu wastes no time in scooting closer, fingers wrapping around both of your wrists as he positions himself before you. “You have no idea what you’re asking of me”, he murmurs, his lip twitching into a sinister grin as he does. It was almost as if your obliviousness spurred him on, your naivety making his mind reel. 

His breath is warm on your face as he studies you closely, from the way blood rushes beneath your cheeks to your eyelashes fluttering as you try to focus with him so close. “Have you ever kissed someone before?” He asks, the underlying curiosity in his words palpable. You try to think of any occasion in which you might’ve, but after a good moment you shake your head. “Only once…in middle school, a smell peck on the lips..” You admit, albeit a little sheepishly. 

The smirk on his face only widened, exposing his sharp teeth as Beomgyu chuckled. “That doesn’t count”, he states, seemingly pleased with your answer, with your honesty, your trust. Biting your bottom lip, you swallow before nodding slowly. “I’ll show you how to.” He then mumbles, and suddenly his nose is practically grazing yours. You suck in a sharp breath, eyes widening as you watch his confident ones. 

Then his lips press against your own, and they’re surprisingly soft. At first he remained still, completely unmoving and you wondered what on god's green earth he was doing. But soon he lets his eyes close, one of his hands letting go of your wrist as he cups your cheek. The small caress makes your eyes widen further and you resist the urge to pull back. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you hesitantly respond to the tentative kiss, letting your eyes flutter shut as well. 

You knew that you shouldn’t be doing this, that it was wrong, taboo even. He was your step brother.. at least he was bound to be once your parents got married. Guilt roots itself in the pits of your stomach, making it twist and turn uncomfortably as you try to relax in his grip. — He doesn’t push you any further and it takes you by surprise. Instead he lets his lips linger on top of yours, and when he pulls away moments later, a small pecking sound follows it. You watch through lidded eyes as his narrowed gaze studies you, the hand on your cheek moving to your chin. 

“How was it?” He wonders, as if expecting a review of some sort. Your mouth parts but you can’t seem to find the words. How could you describe the shame and the guilt? How could you ever verbalize the way his soft lips had felt on yours, such a thing was impossible. — “It felt weird..” Your hushed whisper echoes out like church bells in your ears and you remain very aware of the way his fingers reside around your chin, locking your face in place. 

Beomgyu lets out a short breath, his thumb pulling your bottom lip down as his gaze catches onto your exposed teeth. “First time always feels weird”, he states and before you get to prepare yourself, he dives right back in, except this time he goes straight for the kill. — You let out a small yelp as he pries your mouth open, immediately slipping his wet tongue inside to slide against yours. You can still taste the minty toothpaste on him and the sensation of something so wet and…alive, in your mouth, makes you cringe. 

You still allow him to kiss you, to push you back against the pillows as his hands roam your body, his poisonous touch spreading across your skin like wildfire. You knew that this was exactly what he wanted, to ruin something so perfectly pure, to take something from you that you could never get back. And for some reason, you let him. — Only when his hand reaches the waistband of your pajama shorts do you stop him, eyes wide as you push him back. 

“Wait.” 

The kiss breaks with a wet sound and a small string of saliva still connects the two of you. Struggling to find a suitable approach to the matter, you let your gaze drop to his chest, heaving a small sigh as you bite your lip. “I…I don’t know if…I mean I haven’t..” Honestly you didn’t even know what you were getting at yourself, you supposed you wanted to prolong the moment, if just a moment longer. 

Beomgyu regards you with an expression you don’t think you’d ever seen on him before; a mixture of both intrigue and desire. “Are you scared?” He wonders and without thinking, you nod. His lips stretch wide, the hand on your shorts moving to your inner thigh as he gives it a light squeeze and you nearly flinch at the touch. “Good”, he huffs, his fingers venturing beneath the fabric of your pajamas as he gauges your reaction closely. 

When he pulls your shorts down, you gingerly try and conceal yourself, your cheeks flushing in all shades of red as your thighs squeeze shut. “Don’t be embarrassed”, he tsk’s, his hands on your knees as he firmly spreads them. — “I’ve seen plenty of pussies before”, he merely shrugs, “yours won’t be any different.” His reassurance didn’t help ease much of your worries as you let him pry your legs open. 

He starts slow, and you’re thankful; his index and middle finger gently rubbing you through the soft cotton of your panties and you resist the urge to hide your face as you squirm against him. — It wasn’t like you’d never touched yourself, because you had…you think. Like any other young teenager you’d experimented a little with your body, but as an inexperienced 15-year old, the results had proved futile. You never had the urge you suppose, you didn’t even know how it was supposed to feel like. But as Beomgyu touches you through your underwear, a strange feeling mingles alongside the guilt and shame in your stomach. 

His eyes are on you, on only you, watching as you bite your bottom lip, your hands fidgeting with the bed sheets as you try to suppress the small noises bubbling in your throat. Not until his fingers find your clit, rubbing it deliberately through your panties, do you let out a small squeak. “Is…Is it supposed to feel like that?” — Beomgyu’s dark gaze shifts from your spread legs and over to your wide stare. He nods, “does it feel good?” 

“Strange..” You quietly whisper, though you made no move to stop him as his index finger hooks around the waistband of your underwear. “Yeah?” He murmurs, taking his time as he slowly pulls the piece of garment from your body, letting it slide along your legs before he discards it on the floor. “You’ll get used to it”, he muses, eyes shifting to your exposed cunt as they visibly darken, “it comes with experience.” 

You had no clue what to expect, what to feel, how to respond. Your whole body felt tense as his cold fingers brushed against your naked skin, inching their way up and suddenly it felt like you were under a microscope, every single part of you being presented under a stark light. Beomgyu on the other hand, seems far more at ease as he lets two of his fingers swipe across your cute folds, teasingly pushing them apart as he slowly rubs you. 

It takes everything in you not to cringe at the weird and damp feeling pooling between your legs, the consistent throb of your cunt and the small cry you emit as he flicks over your clit once more. He sighs, “virgin pussies are my favorite”, his gaze shifts to his already glistening fingers, “they get wet so easily.” — You merely let out a small whimper at his words, thigh involuntarily twitching, the movement immediately catching his eye as his lips curl into a smirk. 

“W-Wait!” You croak as you suddenly feel him prodding against your fluttering hole, your muscles taut as you shift on the bed. Beomgyu stops, hand resting against your core as he studies you with an indifferent expression. “W-Won’t that hurt?” It felt embarrassing to ask, but the thought of him pushing something inside of you…it scared you. — But Beomgyu only shrugs. “It might”, he drawls, his fingers resuming their work on your cunt as he repositions his index one right above the tight rim of muscle, “depends on how bad you want me.” 

Want him? You didn’t know if you wanted him, it wasn’t like you liked him, right? You hated Beomgyu, you’d hated him for two years. You hated how he treated his mother, how he treated you, with such coldness and such little empathy. You hated how he made you cry, how he made you feel small and weak. You hated how he made you feel bad for grieving your own mother. 

But as your gaze shifts to his face, and as you will yourself to look past the cruelty, the darkness, you can still make out the boy you met that night, the one you’d had a small and what you thought was an insignificant crush on. From the black charcoal around his eyes, to the silver jewelry bored into his eyebrow; his black hair, nearly reaching his shoulders now, and his dark eyes, his eyes that both scared and intrigued you. 

You gasp when he without warning pushes his finger past your folds, immediately curling it inside of you, making your back arch off the bed in sheer surprise. Beomgyu’s attention is solely on your flushed face, watching in contentment as you writher under his touch, as you slowly lose yourself. — “O-Oh..” Is all you manage to squeak out between the ragged breaths. It felt weird and uncomfortable, but it didn't hurt, instead the fluttering sensation in your stomach only seemed to grow. 

“Such a greedy pussy”, Beomgyu hums as he feels you pulsate around his finger, “sucking me in like a complete whore.” You shake your head, “I-I’m not..” The words die in your throat as he adds he slides a second digit past your tight rim, making you shriek as he stretches your cunt. 

His touch felt poisonous but you couldn’t find it in you to push him off, to tell him to stop. No matter how many times you told yourself how wrong it was, you couldn’t help but slowly succumb to the darkness that was Beomgyu. Wanting, no needing, more. It was as if he’d introduced you to a most dangerous drug, and you find yourself desperately seeking another fix, a stronger one. 

Your short nails have torn the bright sheets covering the mattress, and your arms tremble as you lock eyes with him. Satisfactory, that was the only way you could describe the expression painting his face. You don’t think you’d ever seen Beomgyu as anything but angry, but this…this was far from it. He looks ready to devour you whole, his brooding eyes fixating on the way your jaw slacked, your saliva coated lips parted and your eyebrows drawn together in such an endearing manner. 

“Feel good?” He wonders, his brow twitching slightly when his thumb presses against your clit, eliciting a high pitched moan from you as you squirm against him. “I’ll take that as a yes”, he drawls and before you know it, his fingers are gone, making a sloppy sound as they withdraw from your cunt. You whine, hips bucking up in an attempt to seek his touch and your cheeks flare up in color. “W-Why did you stop..?” You pathetically wonder, biting the inside of your cheek, thinking that you had possibly done something wrong. 

Beomgyu doesn’t say anything as he brings his sticky fingers to his face, inhaling your scent before shoving them into his mouth. Your jaw falls open in bewilderment, how could he just do something like that so…casually. — “Come on now princess, we’ve only just gotten started.” 

Even more? 

Your already wide eyes dilate even further, completely forgetting to be angry over the nickname he’d used as his hand dips inside the waistband of his sweats, pulling his hard cock from his briefs. It wasn’t like you were a total prude, you knew what a dick looked like, you just…had never seen one up close. — Beomgyu takes his time as he wraps his fingers around its base, languidly stroking himself as pearly beads of what you could only assume to be precum spilled from the slit on top. 

The thought of having that inside of you makes your throat go dry and you shift uncomfortably on the bed. “Come on now, sis, don’t grow shy on me”, he drawls, stifling a groan as his thumb flicks over his tip. The knot in your stomach returns and you shoot him a glare, “I am not your ‘sis’”, you state through gritted teeth. But Beomgyu only chuckles before leaning forward, his face drawing in close once more. With one hand still on his cock, the other one presses flat against the mattress as he hovers in front of you. 

“Lie down.” 

His sharp command sends a shiver down your spine and you hesitantly comply, awkwardly sliding yourself down between his parted legs until only your head remains perched on the pillow. From this angle, Beomgyu’s long hair falls in front of his face and you resist the urge to reach up and brush it away. Instead your nervous eyes flicker to his cock as he gently taps it against your inner thigh. Your gaze lingers on the way his arousal spills onto your naked skin and suddenly a wave of realization washes over you. 

“Shouldn’t we use a condom?” You whisper, biting the inside of your cheek as your attention flits back to the smug expression on his face. “Why? That takes away half the fun”, he hums, letting his tip part your puffy folds as he nudges it against your throbbing clit. “H-ah b-but isn’t it unsafe?” You whine, unable to keep from grinding against him, desperately seeking his touch. 

Beomgyu lets out an exasperated sigh, reaching a hand up to run through his slightly disheveled hair. “Don’t tell me you’re scared”, he grunts, his fingers clasping around your chin, pulling your face so that it rests inches from his. Your breath is uneven and jagged as you reluctantly meet his gaze, a quiet “no” spilling from your lips. — He grins, tongue dragging across the bottom row of teeth in his mouth, “such a terrible liar.” 

You don’t have time to think, much less act before the head of his cock pushed past the rim of taut muscle as he slid inside your warm cunt, almost immediately groaning at how you wrapped around him so deliciously. — “Fuck, you really are a virgin aren’t you?” He breathes, lips hovering above yours and you weakly nod. The stretch of his thick cock making you go near cross eyed as you grasped at his shoulders. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before and you were sure that Beomgyu enjoyed every second of it. 

He had been the first, the first one to get his hands on you, to spew his poison all over your pure and innocent virgin body, and he would make sure to do so thoroughly. His mouth is on your neck, tongue licking at your skin and you cringe away from the action but he doesn’t falter, lips immediately chasing yours as he keeps you in place. The kiss is rougher than the previous, hungry and disoriented as Beomgyu messily jerks his hips against yours. Your nails dig into the apex of his shoulders and his name echoes through in the pristine bedroom as you moan out in pleasure. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum right away if you keep that up”, he grunts, fingers digging into your cheeks as he withdraws from your lips. Your eyes widen as you feebly try and shake your head, dreading for him to finish inside. But he doesn’t, instead he redirects his focus to your neck, resuming what he’d been doing as his tongue darts out to swipe across its juncture. You squeal when his teeth graze your skin, the hands on his shoulders moving to his dark hair. 

The marks he left on your untouched skin were bound to linger for at least a couple of days, he made sure of that. Reveling in the fact that you’d let him in, let him close, allowed him to take something so precious, something that you had been clinging on to for so long. He would have you, all of you, even if only once, he would be sure to leave an impression. 

And you know that you should feel ashamed, feel guilty, dirty even. But something feels different, something about him, about Beomgyu. It’s not the Beomgyu you loathed, the Beomgyu who’d made you cry, the Beomgyu who made you feel worthless. — None of the anger, the hatred, the fire; none of that lingered right now. And had it not been for his sharp teeth on your skin and his rough pace as his cock rammed into your throbbing cunt, the moment might’ve even been tender. 

There’s an unfamiliar feeling building in the pits of your stomach and it had long since overridden the previous shame and guilt. Unsure of what to make of it, you desperately tug on Beomgyu’s hair, eventually making his head raise from your chest with a small frown, the liner around his eyes even more smudged than usual now. — “I’m…I…” your face turns beet red as you stumble over your words, not knowing how to express yourself. 

He licks his already wet lips, his pace momentarily slowing and you whimper at the discomfort soaring through your body. “You close?” He asks, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead. You open your mouth only to close it again, nodding sheepishly as your hands twist in his hair. Beomgyu groans as he lets his fingers slide down your stomach, reaching where your bodies connected like one, middle finger rubbing your clit menacingly as he watches you arch against him with a broken moan. 

Your first ever orgasm felt out of this world, your cunt clenching around his cock with such vigor that you thought you might cry, a string of incoherent and high pitched whines ripping from your throat as you pull Beomgyu close, and for the first time, you’re the one initiating the kiss as you slam your lips on his. — He groans into your mouth, letting you slide your tongue against his, albeit a little awkwardly as you had no clue of what you were doing. 

Finally, as your climax comes to an end, you find yourself relaxing against the mattress, the fingers in his hair loosening their grip as you allow yourself to kiss him slowly. — “F-Fuck princess”, he grunts, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth before letting go. You respond by eagerly raising your hips to meet his, wincing at how sensitive you felt as his cock twitched inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, wait”, he breaths, tearing himself from you as he swiftly pulls out with a small hiss. 

In your euphoric state, your eyes drift to his hand wrapped around his shaft, quickly jerking himself off as his gaze fixates on your wet cunt. Then he notices you, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he reaches for your wrist, “come here”, he urges as he guides the flat of your hand to wrap around his cock. — Blinking, your attention flits between his expectant face and his heavy dick in your grasp as you contemplate your next move. It wasn’t like you’d ever done something like this before but it looked easy enough when he was doing it. 

With determination you begin to carefully stroke him, biting the inside of your cheek at the squelching sound erupting as his arousal smeared across your fingers. Beomgyu’s hips jerk forward and your movements stutter. — “H-ah, fucking hell d-don’t stop”, he groans, his jaw slacked as his eyes tightly squeezed shut. A quiet “sorry” slips from your lips and your pace returns as you work to get him off. 

“F-Fuck go a bit faster, yeah?” He mutters, his hand joining in on top of yours as he ups the intensity. Merely following his command, you grip him tighter, drawing a strained moan from him as your fingers drag across his tip. — It made you feel oddly powerful, seeing him like this, his otherwise indifferent face completely flushed, and instead of presenting himself with a mean scowl, he looked to be in complete bliss as he let his head fall back. 

A final twitch of his causes hot liquid to spurt from his throbbing cock, the white substance coating both your hand and lower abdomen. He heaves a sigh and you feel him slowly go soft in your hand before you pull it away. Beomgyu runs his fingers through his hair, parting it before letting his arm drop back down, his gaze landing on the mess on your stomach. He tsk’s spreading the sticky fluid across your skin. “What would your daddy think if he saw you like this, hm?” He murmurs, licking his lips before bringing his cum-coated fingers to your face. 

You shake your head, without the waves of pleasure sparking through you, the shame and the guilt suddenly crawled right back. “I- I don’t want to talk about him..” You whine, trying to force the image of your father out of your mind. — “His beautiful princess, completely ruined by something so…what did you say I was? Dark?” 

Without warning he pushes his wet fingers inside your mouth, making you cringe at the salty taste of him. “I bet your daddy would hate you forever”, Beomgyu finally states, watching as you frown, lips closing around the digits in your mouth. — And when he finally withdraws them, you splutter, “my father doesn’t hate me, but yours seem to do.” 

Beomgyu’s jaw twitches, his lips curling up into a small scowl and the desire previously filling the air slowly simmers out. You knew that he wanted you to feel just as miserable as he did. But you wouldn’t let him, you wouldn’t let him get to you like that. — Half expecting an insult thrown your way, you’re surprised when he merely tucks himself back into his sweats, rising from the bed as he regards you with dark eyes. “Fine, keep living with such fantasies and we’ll see just how long it takes for them to get crushed.” 

Without as much as another word, he leaves your room, the door slamming shut behind him as the small house falls under an eerie silence once more. 

⸝⸝

Your parents came home two days later, and though you wanted to say that things had changed between you and Beomgyu after your…night together, it was safe to say that they hadn’t. At least not on his part. You on the other hand, couldn’t get the feeling of his hands off of your body, it was like he’d permanently imprinted himself on your skin. It feels disgusting, and you had spent three hours in the shower the morning after, vigorously trying to scrub the venom from your system. But it never worked, his touch lingered like that of a tattoo, forever sealed onto you. You could never take back what had happened that night. 

For some reason, a small part of you doesn’t want to. 

Beomgyu avoided you, and when he wasn’t avoiding you he was glaring. His dark and piercing eyes followed your every move whenever you were in his field of vision. But there was something else too, a sense of superiority. — He knew that you were constantly dealing with the consequences of that night, he could see the way your mind haunted you with the memories, and he took pride in watching the shame and the guilt practically eat you alive. — He was on top of the world and you were scrambling to even get by. 

So one could easily imagine your surprise when one evening, you found him in a state you never thought you’d ever get to witness. 

It was late, but your small family had yet to eat dinner, and you watched as Ms Choi darted across the kitchen, in full with preparing your meal. You helped her set the table as you laughed at a couple of your dad’s terrible and overused jokes. It had taken a whole of three days for you to be able to look him in the eye after he’d come home, and you still felt terrible whenever you caught him and Ms Choi sharing a kiss; knowing that one tiny slip of your lips could manage to ruin something so perfect. 

You trusted that Beomgyu wouldn’t utter as much as a single breath about what had transpired that night, but you still startled when his mother taps your shoulder, whipping around as you come face to face with her. — “Dear, do you mind fetching Beomgyu, dinner’s almost ready”, she smiled, that warm and comforting smile she so often gave her son, only to receive a mere huff in return. You nod, slowly making your way out of the kitchen as you head for the hallway, dreading having to speak to him, much less in private. 

The steps creak under your weight as you drag yourself up the stairs, drawing out the moment for as long as possible before you inevitably reach his door. With a small sigh, you knock. There’s no music coming from the other side and you frown, what’s up with him? — Another knock, but nothing. You bite the inside of your cheek, a wave of frustration crashing over you at the thought of having to call out for him. 

“Beomgyu?” 

A third knock. You wait for at least a minute but there’s nothing, just silence. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep, still, you should wake him and let him know that dinner was ready, Ms Choi had asked you after all. — Your hand is near trembling as you grasp the handle, twisting it before pushing the door open. Slowly adjusting to the darkness of his room, you peer inside. But to your surprise, he wasn’t there. 

Your footsteps make a thumping sound as you hurry down the stairs. If he wasn’t in his room then…Your gaze flickers toward the dining room and kitchen before settling on the front door. “Did he mention anything about going out?” You call out for Ms Choi and she soon appears in the doorway, a bowl of salad in her hands. “No, is he not in his room?” She wonders, her face quickly falling. 

Noting her worried expression you quickly shake your head as you try and reassure her. “I’m sure he just went for a walk, I’ll go check.” — Your dad’s girlfriend gives a small nod as her gaze, too, flickers toward the door. “Alright..” 

⸝⸝ 

The cool night air hits your face and you mutter a few curses under your breath, scolding yourself for offering to do something like that when the last thing you wanted was to be out in this cold. — As you walk down the graveled path you let out a tired groan, what were you even thinking coming out here? It wasn’t like he was just going to magically appear or something. Fucking asshole, had the nerve to leave without a word and now you had to go looking for him. 

But as you push the small fence gate open and turn out and onto the street, a familiar scene flashes before your eyes. Nostalgia fills your every fiber as your eyes fall on Beomgyu’s figure, perched on the sidewalk as he hugs his knees to his chest, just like he had that night, that night two years ago. — But something was different. That night, the one where you had learned to hate him, it had been a warm night, and Beomgyu had been burning with rage. Today, the air is much colder, and Beomgyu is no longer on fire, instead he’s shivering, his whole body quivering as small sobs escape his soft lips.  

You freeze at the sight, breath catching in your throat as you regard his almost pathetic frame, curling in on itself as his fingers dig into the flesh of his calves. Part of you wants to leave him there, perhaps even make fun of him, it was most tempting to finally get back at him for the way he’d ruined you. — But you weren’t Beomgyu. And you wouldn’t do that. 

Instead you find yourself slowly approaching, and just like that night two years ago, you slide down next to him on the cold pavement. He doesn’t seem to register that you’re there, and you sit in silence for a brief moment before addressing him. — “Beomgyu?” — His head jerks at the quiet whisper of his name, his usually narrowed eyes wide in shock as they flicker over to you. His cheeks are wet, stained with his tears and the liner around his eyes had run down his face in messy streaks. A few strands of hair stick to his forehead and his lip trembles as he sucks in a sharp breath. 

“Leave me the fuck alone.” He croaks, but his voice comes out weak and raspy. His hands wipe at his face, but it only spreads the mess already there even further and he lets out a frustrated groan. — You don’t say anything, because last time you tried to comfort him you only ended up getting hurt. Instead your gaze flits to his discarded phone between the two of you. The screen was broken, likely from him smashing it on the asphalt beneath. You frown as it suddenly comes to life, vibrating against the hard ground. The bright screen illuminates the dim street and your eyes land on the caller-ID. 

“Dad.” 

Beomgyu doesn’t make a move to answer, merely turning his head away as he continues to sob into his arms. “Don’t”, he mutters as he sees you reaching for the device, “he’s drunk.” — You purse your lips but your fingers still clasp around the phone, your thumb swiping to decline the call. Upon being presented with his lockscreen, you can make out at least another fifteen missed ones. Your chest churns at the scene, for whatever reason, you do not know. The bright light vanishes as you power off his phone completely, tossing it to the side as you stretch your legs out in front of you on the pavement. 

It takes him about a minute to lift his head from his arms and his breath is still uneven as he speaks. “What does he want?” — Biting your lip, you gaze ahead, tracing the outlines of each car parked down the street, memorizing their plate numbers. You didn’t know how to answer his question, so you remained silent. Beomgyu shuffles next to you, mimicking your movement of unfolding his legs. “I bet he wants money..” He then adds in a snarky tone, wiping his face once more as he snivels, “money to sponsor his fucking addiction.” 

You throw a quick glance in the direction of his discarded phone. “Why do you still have his number?” It was obvious that he didn’t like his father, so why let him bother him like that. Beomgyu shakes his head solemnly, his fingers twisting against one another as he opens his mouth only to close it again. “Wouldn’t it be better to block him?” — “I can’t.” He suddenly exclaims, turning to you with a small frown. 

Why not? Why let something like that plague you, why not just cut it off, why not just let go? 

It was then you realized that perhaps you and Beomgyu shared a lot more than you’d initially wanted to admit.. Your eyes drop to the bracelet around your wrist, the silver glinting under the moon. — When your attention returns to him, you find him already watching you, his gaze following yours as it resided by the jewelry on your arm. You think he might make another comment about it, but he doesn’t, instead he merely sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. 

“I think..” You begin, your voice a quiet whisper as you stare past him, eyes drifting off into the distance as you let the words roll off your tongue. “I think you’re stuck on what could’ve been rather than what you have.” Beomgyu doesn’t say anything, his gaze mindlessly dropping to his hands in front of him as he bites the inside of his cheek. “What I have”, he mutters with a small frown, clearly not intended for you to hear but you did. 

“You have your mom.” 

He scoffs, already anticipating your next self-victimizing rant about how yours was dead. “My mom is-” 

“A wonderful person.” Your statement catches him off guard and his attention shifts back to your face as he studies you with a look of wariness. “And you would see that if you spared her more than a glare”, you continue as you watch his skeptical expression. — You had never felt anything besides hatred for Beomgyu, and you had been so blinded by your rage that in a way, you had become almost exactly like him. But as you finally take a step back to view him completely, his disheveled frame, his slumped shoulders and runny makeup — pity washes over you, the same pity you had felt on that night two years ago; the night everything went wrong. 

“Stop holding her accountable for his mistakes.” 

You can see the twitch of his face at your words, as if he wanted to refuse them, to lash out on you, but he didn’t. Instead he looks to you with the most sorrowful look you’d ever witnessed on him. — “How do I do that?” He wonders, his voice is thick, laced with his previous tears. Biting your tongue, you hold back from saying what you thought he wasn’t ready to hear but Beomgyu clings to you, his hands wrapping around the fabric of your shirt, his grip near trembling. 

“I miss my mom.” He whispers, his voice breaking as a lonesome droplet falls down his cheek, slicing through the dark smear of charcoal on his face. Your jaw falls open, stunned by the way his resolve so suddenly crumbled. And as you heard the words leave his lips, “i miss my mom”, you could practically feel every single one of his emotions as they washed over him in thunderous waves. — You missed your mom too, you missed her terribly. 

He hiccups, his tears creating a damp spot on the shoulder of your shirt. “H-How do I get her back..?” The question comes out muffled as he grips you tightly. “Please…I want my mom back.” — Your eyes sting and you feel yourself slowly losing your composure as you draw in a ragged breath. With a small push of your hands, you manage to create some distance between the two of you, enough to where you could see his wet face, his glossy eyes and swollen lips. 

“You have to let him go.” 

You reach for his phone, powering it back on. Beomgyu looks hesitant as he wipes his eyes, exhaling shakily when you extend the device to him. “The longer you let him ruin you the more you and those around you will suffer.” — With wobbly fingers he grasps his phone, slowly finding his dad’s contact info. He wavers, thumb hovering above the block button as he bites his bottom lip. 

You don’t know why you felt the need to help him, why you felt like you had to comfort him, reassure him. — “You’ve said it yourself haven’t you? Some people don’t deserve children.” His gaze flickers up to meet yours at the statement, a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. “Don’t let him have that privilege”, you say as you let your hand rest on top of his. 

Beomgyu slowly nods, reluctantly pressing the dreadful button as he erases his father from his life. He purses his lips, breathing out through his nose as he stares at the screen for a minute, as if contemplating his next move. — “He’s gone.” He finally states, the frown on his face only deepening as he swallowed thickly. 

“Sometimes it’s better that way”, you mumble, letting go of his hand as you lean back, your gaze dropping to the bracelet around your wrist. 

Your heart pounds loudly in your chest, blood rushing through your body as you reach for the small lock, carefully unclasping the piece of sacred jewelry. Beomgyu and you…You weren’t so different, you think. And if he could do something, something like that, then who says you couldn’t? 

His eyes are on you, watching intently as you with shaky hands let the bracelet fall from your skin, feeling oddly empty without it. — It feels light in your hand, and you wondered how something so significant could weigh so little. It made it easier to let go. — Beomgyu lets you grab his wrist, the frown on his face creasing further when you tie the silver around him. 

“Now she’s gone too.” 

You give him a small smile, meeting his wide eyes as they shift from the bracelet around his wrist and your relieved expression. 

It’s without thinking that you lean in, softly pressing your lips against his in a small kiss. But this time you didn’t feel guilty, nor did you feel dirty or ashamed. Instead it felt nice, it felt like closure. Letting your eyes flutter closed, feeling his warm and damp skin against your own, a stark contrast to the cold night surrounding you. Beomgyu lets you kiss him without protest and you feel the faint caress of fingers to your cheek. 

When you pull away he chases after you, only to be stopped by the palm of your hand on his chest as you shake your head. “It’s not like that. You know it too.” Your soft whisper makes his jaw clench, his fingers dropping from your face as they curl into fists. Then he nods, the corner of his lips pulling upwards, “yeah.” 

Gingerly rising to your feet, you dust some off the dirt from your jeans before your attention returns to him, still perched on the sidewalk. — Your outstretched hand is met by the raise of his eyebrow and you roll your eyes, “come on, I think there’s someone who would like to talk to you.” Beomgyu frowns but takes your hand nonetheless as he lets you pull him up. 

You walk like that, hand in hand, and it feels nice. Your heart sinks a little at the thought that it could’ve been like this from the start, had things worked out differently. But as you turn to walk through the small fence gate, and your eyes fall on Ms Choi, anxiously waiting by the front door, you find yourself smiling. And instead of grieving what you could’ve had, you would focus on what you did have. 

Beomgyu audibly swallows next to you as his gaze surveys his mother, and as Ms Choi notices the two of you approaching, her face lights up. — With a final squeeze of his hand, you let him go. It was satisfactory in itself to see him walk up to his mom, letting her wrap her arms around him for the first time in what you could only guess to be years. But they both made it look so natural as they fell into each other’s embrace. And it only confirmed what you had known for so long.

That Beomgyu was and had always been, a mommy’s boy.

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[prismdewdrop]

dangerous territory 

Summary: jason todd may be exhausted after a long night of vigilance, but if you've stayed up late just to talk to him, he's going to make sure he knows exactly why.

or: jason and reader are both idiots and should probably just kiss, but they're idiots, so they do... whatever this is instead.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: mention of jason's death, mention of dead animals (in reference to the plot of john wick)

Tags: roommates in love, late-night conversations, mutual pining, jason is a little bit of an asshole (affectionate), he's not beating the little shit allegations, jason todd loves reader and is soo not normal about it, pov jason todd, everyone is 18+

A/N: long-time jason todd lover, first-time fic writer!

this work was inspired by @notnotacowpoke 's roommatesverse with jason, and they've been absolutely amazing with betaing and just going insane with me over this. you can read their work on ao3 :))

please feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments or in the tags! thanks for reading <3

edit (a big thank you): omg thank you so much for the response, everyone! i genuinely can't believe my first fic on a sideblog got so much of a reaction, and I'm so, SO grateful. my inbox is open for your thoughts or requests for jason and his roommate reader! i'd love to say hi and explore this au some more!

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"Jay?" 

The sleep-soft call melts the night and the pain away. 

Halting his lonely trek to his room, Jason Todd turns towards your voice. A fresh bruise catches at the quickness of his movement, but he tucks away the wince into the back of his throat.

You're standing at your door, peering into the dark in his direction.

"Yeah, babe?" 

A low hiss makes it out of his throat as the endearment falls from his mouth. He waits to see if you caught it. You sounded exhausted, drowsy with much-needed sleep, and even in your apartment, the city was never quiet. Whether you heard it or not, though, you don't acknowledge it, waiting to hear a confirmation from him.

His heart aches for a split second, recognizing the fatigue in your voice, like the second skin he wears every day, accompanied by the tinge of fear that keeps him alive – and keeps you waiting to hear for sure if it's him.

"It's me. What's up?" he says again, louder this time.

You open the door wider, stepping more clearly into his view, just a little past the doorway. One side of your face and body is splashed in the ever-glistening lights of the city that leaks into your apartment in a haze of light gray.

The patch of light helps, and so does his helmet's night vision.

He can see you now, and like always, a breath catches in his throat–even rumpled with sleep, you look lovely and soft.

To you, he knows that he's just a larger patch of darkness against the dimness of your shared living room.

"You're back earlier than I thought you would be," you say finally.

He can see the concern flit over your face as you do your best to scan him in the darkness, checking in vain for any obvious wounds or hurts. He watches as your concern deepens when you're unable to make out anything in the dark, still reluctant to ask him to step into the light

"Slow night," he shrugs. 

He steps closer to you, not fully into the light but close enough that you can make out more of his form. He sees the relief wash over your face and your shoulders loosen a little as you clock his unaffected stride and note the lack of any visible wounds. He doesn't mention his new bruise. And he won’t, at least not until you tell him what it is that has kept you up so late. 

"I – well, I was waiting for you to come back..." 

A pause. 

You pull your lip between your teeth, eyes darting over his face, shoulders climbing towards your ears with tension. He can practically see your mind whirring, and he can see the exact moment you decide against finishing your sentence. Your eyes drop, and your shoulders with them. 

A sigh. 

Then: a small smile.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Which... you are. Clearly. I think. At least, you look—"

You stop yourself, realising that you were babbling. With a pasted-on sheepish smile and an awkwardly cheery wave, you turn towards the door. 

"Well! You must be tired, get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow morning!"

The forced cheer cuts through your fatigue for only a few seconds as you rush the words out and turn towards your room, and he sees the corners of your mouth dipping down the moment you think he can't see your face. You're not a bad liar, by any means. It just so happens that most of the time you're together, you're the only thing Jason sees.

"No."

"What?"

Confusion contorts your face as it snaps to look at him again. Your eyebrows knit together, lips pursing and pushing out into a pout. It's cute, and he's quite sure you have no idea you do this.

"I'm going to camp right out here," he gestures at the (incredibly uncomfortable) couch as he looks straight at you, challenge evident in his voice and in the set of his squared shoulders – "And I am not resting until you tell me what you need."

You frown, lips pressed together into a tight line. You're weighing his response, trying to piece together just how serious he is. Jason reaches up to unclasp his helmet, lifting it off and letting you see that there's very little humor in his eyes – just enough to soften you into spitting out what you really wanted to say — but not enough to let this go.

That's enough for you, though, even in the limited light. Only three months of cohabitation and somehow the both of you could read each other just as well as the stacks of books that crowded the apartment – well worn, annotated, so many of them in various states of disarray, torn and stained and bent, nearly all with cracked spines, but still so so beloved.

He can read you a little better, though, what with his years of vigilance and, well. Everything else that followed.

Jason knows you – the same way he knows the locations of all of Bruce's safe houses, or the exact number of times he could call Tim 'the replacement' before something heavy would be launched at his head. That is to say, concerningly well.

There wasn't a twitch of your eyebrow or a blush or a glare or an angry press of your lips against each other, or a quirk of them (he may have studied your lips especially well) that he hadn't committed to memory, that he didn't know by heart. He wonders if you know, and he wonders what you'd think if you did.

Another sigh, your shoulders sag further, and he makes a mental note to take you through some exercises to improve your truly terrible posture.

"Jason, it's really nothing that can't wait till morning, I just –"

"Come on, dude," He scoffs, not unkindly. "I know you wouldn't have stayed up so late if it wasn't important enough to keep you up."

He nods at the dregs of coffee in the mug you'd forgotten on the centre table for emphasis. There's no hiding from the world's third (or maybe fourth?) best detective that it's the special, strong type that you usually reserve for the most daunting of deadlines.

You swallow up the rest of your words and let out a huff. This time, it's more frustrated than tired, and he can see the flash of irritation in your eyes. You glance away from him, arms coming up to clasp your elbows, encircling yourself in a loose hug. Discomfort radiates off of you in waves, and as you sink your teeth into your lips again; he notes the steady rise of your shoulders towards your ears.

A flash of annoyance goes through him. Not at you — never at you — but whatever new inconvenience this city has wrought for you. Whatever it is that has you up and walking around at 3 AM in the morning after a draining day of work and study and worrying about him.

He fights the urge to step closer, to wrap his hands around your shoulders, smoothing the bare skin and loosening the tightness in them. It would be so easy — there's barely four feet between the two of you, in a few steps he could be holding you and —

He stops himself from following that particular train of thought.

Red Hood faces open gunfire head-on almost daily. Sometimes, he even takes an explosion or two to the face. Then there was the time he'd died, followed by all the times he'd almost died. And he still couldn't remember the last time he'd felt true, bone-deep fear.

But this, this was dangerous territory he was terrified of treading. Yet he was unable to deny the existence of the temptation, always tugging on something in his chest like a low undercurrent, occasionally crashing over him in a wave of desire to touch and protect and hold. To slip his fingers through yours, through your hair, over your lips, between them.

He wonders if you know how easily he can read you, see the way your mind is running through excuses and half-truths to throw him off right now, extricate yourself from this uncomfortable situation and put a safe distance between you again. He should let you do it, really. Even you know that this territory is... not for you. Which is why you were now teetering at its edge after taking these few hesitant steps towards it – him.

But still. He can't ignore the tug. He can deny the waves, stop himself with a savage jerk on his mental reins. That low undercurrent, however – he nurses it, lets it guide him. He has to. It hasn't been long since you met, but he already doesn't know what he would do without it guiding him back to you, day after night after day, painful blow after near-death encounter.

And so he narrows his eyes at you, ready to counter anything you say that isn't the truth.

He feels like a dick; he really does – dangling his well-being in front of you to get you to just stand up and say it. He does this sometimes, pushing you and inconveniencing you – borderline bullying you into being honest with him.

But he knows he's right to be doing this. You have enough fire in you to push back when need be, when he crosses a line, and knowing you, you would've stormed back into your room without a backward glance and with a slam of your door, if whatever this was wasn't bothering you so much.

"I..." You paused to glare at him, just to show him that even if you were playing along, you did not appreciate playing his games.

Jason hides his smile and just raises his eyebrows.

Hands clenching into fists, you glare up at the ceiling as you wrestle with your words, as if hoping for divine intervention.

Another sigh, this time an admit of defeat.

"Fine – but I'm warning you – it's stupid –"

"With you, roomie, I doubt it is."

"Jason, can you please stop interrupting me? I'm really trying here."

Jason raises his palms in a silent apology, an acknowledgement of his dickish behavior, saving the real sorries for later.

You nod in acceptance.

"Okay." Deep breath. "I just wanted to... show you something. And spend some time with you. You know, because we haven't been able to catch up lately and I –" You stop, voice strangling around the next words, catching yourself. You take a breath before continuing. "And I could really use your... insights."

Your voice trails off, and he can feel you wince internally as you slip into impersonal corporate speak, an effort to avoid any words that were more intimate than they had the right to be.

Jason knows. Or at least he can make a damn good guess as to what the words you'd struggled to choke off were. He knew, sure as hell, it wasn't ‘insights ’, but acknowledging the unsaid words was very much stepping into the dangerous territory. And like you had when he slipped up and called you babe, he doesn't.

If he felt anything less than what he did feel, he would have joked about it, said something like: "Aww, bestie, I miss you too". Then you would laugh and shake your head and you would slip back into the easy camaraderie that had marked the beginning of your relationship – before Jason had started noticing the precise way in which the hearts that you signed your notes off with varied in size and number depending on the mood you were in, or the way your hand reached for his every time you crossed a road together.

So instead, he says nothing. He just waits.

"I'll be in my room," you say, arms wrapping around yourself again, a blush rising steadily up your neck and onto your cheeks. You nod at his gear. "Whenever you're ready, just come in. I'll be up."

Oh. They were to be alone. In your room. Probably on the bed. No, definitely on the bed. There's no space for a desk or chair in rooms that come with apartments in this part of Gotham, especially the ones affordable for students. No, there's only one place they can sit comfortably together.

Not that they haven't sat on your bed – or his bed – together before. They have, countless times. They've cuddled and huddled, most times with a pile of snacks for company.

On the days they'd given up on any possibility of productivity, they'd marathoned all their comfort movies and franchises before falling asleep, arms around each other, legs tangled, and depending on who'd had the worst week, a head tucked under another's chin, lead gently into slumber by the comforting rhythm of a heartbeat.

They'd binged Lord of the Rings (NOT The Hobbit series; you both agreed that that was a waste of time, though Jason had stronger, angrier feelings towards it than you did), almost all the Austen adaptations (you could never decide which Emma you liked better – the one with Anya Taylor Joy had the beautiful production and a great depiction of the relationship between Emma and Harriet, but the one with Gwyneth Paltrow had a certain charm, and the leads good chemistry); John Wick that one time – he'd adored the way you'd poked him and asked him if he could do/had done some of the particularly impressive stunts (he could, and you'd been thoroughly impressed); Fast and Furious – only till the sixth one though – Jason personally thought Fast Five was where they should have ended their binge, but you were partial to the sixth one (because of the romance, you said), and Jason had grudgingly accepted it's merits. 

That was, what, at least 40 hours of just watching movies? And that didn't even include the time they'd spend just hanging out together, reading silently, or watching something on their own (though one of them would inevitably end up joining the other).

No, he's definitely been in your bed, comfortable with the tugging undercurrents of longing in every laugh you shared, the way you'd sniffled unfailingly at the last march of the Ents, and when his eyes watered at the ride of the Rohirrim, the way you'd both sighed at Darcy's confession, and when you'd turned to Jason as you watched John Wick lay waste to New York's criminal underworld in revenge for his dead dog, and ask: 

"You'd do this for me, right?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay, good. I'd maybe hire someone to do this for you, since you know. I can't kill a man with my bare hands."

You could kill a man with your smile, though, Jason remembered thinking. You killed him a little every day and brought him back just as well, each time just a little bit more whole than the last time he'd been brought back to life.

Sure, he'd been in your bed. But not like this, not when the darkness of the night had melted that thing in his chest – the thing that searched for you the moment he woke up – and brought it out from where it was safe in its cage, to the back of his mouth, the tips of his fingers, the pupils of eyes – poised right on the edge of saying, doing, showing the wrong thing.

Say no, the admittedly miniscule part of his brain that didn't leap to fulfill your every wish insisted. They've given you an out already. Just say you're more tired than you look and talk tomorrow. This isn't just treading - this is running blind and unarmed into dangerous territory. Say no.

But... they miss me, the overwhelmingly persuasive part of him that ached to sweep that particularly unrepentant loose curl into place every day reminds him. They're up and they're worried and they want me to come talk to them because they miss me. I miss them.

His heart twists. He can't say no, never could.

Jason wonders if you know that he would walk into a shootout blindfolded, without armor and with a grin, if that could bring you anything worthwhile. He turns a fond smile your way, his careful expression melting away. 

Your breath catches as the corners of his mouth lift. When Jason smiles like that, his eyes crinkle, they shine at you as if you're all he sees, and it was heartachingly beautiful in it's rarity.

Jason's smile was a golden patch of sun on a cold day; you're powerless in its wake to do anything except curl up in its warmth and bask – always longing for more and more. 

"You know I wouldn't say no to that. I'll be right there,” he says with all the seriousness of a wedding vow.

You fight the urge to linger, to drink in his smile with your eyes and infuse every inch of your body with it's sweetness. You force a small smile of your own and with a wiggle of your fingers, you return to your room, feeling his gaze settle on you until you close the door behind you gently.

He doesn't hear the click of the lock, and so when he heaves his own sigh of defeat, it's in the safety of his own room, between him and the busy silence of the city.

[flickering-chandelier]

To Love a Beast

Pairing: Mob Boss Azriel x Secretary Reader

Summary: Azriel comes back bloody from a job, and Reader is there to help stitch him up, even though he snapped at her and hurt her feelings earlier. Her gentle touch makes Azriel see her in a new light, until he can’t think of anything else. 

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: smut, blood, brief allusions to violence (guns & knives briefly mentioned), swearing, Azriel being an asshole 

Word Count: 3k

Azriel picked up his pistol and tucked it into his jacket, the last of a fully loaded arsenal hidden beneath his clothing. He could feel your eyes on him from your desk, the light illuminating the book on your lap, your pink dress nearly glowing in the dim light.

“Wait,” you said as he was about to leave. He turned back, surprised, as you stepped right up to him and straightened his jacket, your touch lingering just a little too long, your big doe eyes looking up at him from under your lashes. “You shouldn’t be going alone.”

He scoffed. “I can handle it,” he said gruffly. 

You put your hands on your hips, glaring up at him and Azriel almost laughed. “I’m serious. You don’t know what you’re walking into. It could be an ambush.”

Azriel leaned down menacingly, looking right into your eyes, the exact way he looked at the people he was about to kill. “Sweetheart, why don’t you stick to your job, and I’ll stick to mine, alright?”

Reeling back slightly like you had been physically attacked, you narrowed your eyes at him, clearly furious. “There’s no need to be a condescending jackass. Don’t you think I’ve been around this business long enough to know a thing or two?”

The short leash on Azriel’s temper was starting to slacken. “You’re the goddamn secretary. You don’t tell me what to do,” he barked.

“I’m not telling you what to do,” you said, a fire lighting in your eyes that he had never before seen. “I’m suggesting that if you don’t want to die, you should bring backup-”

“Enough,” he roared. 

You recoiled, shrinking back behind your desk. Tears brimmed your eyes as you said quietly, your voice cracking, “I was just trying to help. Believe it or not, some of us actually care if you come back alive or not.” And without another word, you walked past him, out the door. 

Azriel sighed, running a hand down his face, surprised by the slight twinge of guilt in his chest at your reaction. Great. Now he would have to deal with that in the morning.

Cursing, Azriel limped inside the dark office, holding the gash in his side with bloody knuckles. You had been right. The target knew he was coming, and had a whole gang of minions ready to attack Azriel. If he hadn’t been so damn good at his job, he’d be dead for sure.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when you peaked your head out from under the desk. 

“What the fuck. Why are you hiding under there?” he yelled.

“I forgot my book,” you said, your voice clearly edged with worry as your eyes trailed over him. “Looks like you ran into more than you bargained for.”

“What, you want me to tell you that you were right, and I was wrong?” he seethed through clenched teeth.

“It would be nice,” you mused, back to your normal self after he had snapped at you. He was thankful for that, at least. “Sit,” you said, nodding to the armchair. 

“Stop telling me what to do,” he snapped again, unable to reign in his temper.

You looked hurt for a moment before you masked it. “Fine. Bleed out, then.” 

As you turned toward the door, Azriel cursed under his breath and slumped into the chair. “Wait. Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

You paused, turning back to face him, your eyes narrowed as you studied him. “Thank you,” you said quietly, before pulling out the heavy duty first aid kit from the bottom drawer of your desk and turning the overhead lights on, illuminating the space, and the blood on him. 

Pulling up a chair next to him, you surveyed the injuries you could see. “What’s the worst of it?” you asked. 

Slowly, he pulled his hand away from his side, where he had been slashed with one of the cronies’ knives. 

“Shit,” you said quietly, standing up to gingerly help him out of his suit jacket. Then you stood in front of him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders. He watched your fingers work in steady, sure movements. 

He noticed you swallow hard as your gaze raked down his exposed chest and a smug satisfaction coursed through him. In all the years that you had been working for his family, you had never been the one to help patch him up after a job. 

Gingerly, you started cleaning the gash with a damp towel, wiping the blood away so you could clearly see how deep the cut went. Azriel reigned in a hiss at the contact, clenching his fists, determined not to make a sound. “Doesn’t look too bad,” you said finally. “I think I should be able to patch it without any stitches.”

Azriel was thankful for that, thankful for how gentle your touch was, how soft your fingertips were as they moved with purpose across his skin. He was mesmerized, watching you work, your lips pursed, your brow furrowed in concentration. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to still be here after you walked out,” he said gruffly, needing to distract himself from your fingers before his mind wandered too far.

“I wouldn’t have walked out if you hadn’t scolded me like I’m a child,” you said with a certain bite to your voice he was not accustomed to, as you delicately taped gauze to his skin, sealing in the wound. 

“I wouldn’t have scolded you if you wouldn’t have acted like a little know it all,” he countered. 

You looked up at him then, that fire in your eyes burning brighter than he had ever seen it. It knocked the breath right out of his lungs. “I was right though, wasn’t I?” You said quietly, boldly raising your eyebrow in question. 

Heat ran right through him at that look in your eye, at the boldness that it took to speak to him that way. He found himself wondering how he had never noticed it before, how brave, how valuable you were. 

How beautiful you were, he thought, as his eyes trailed down from your big beautiful eyes, down your neck, your hair spilling down your shoulders, down to the tiny bit of cleavage poking out from your dress, your hips that the dress hugged just right, your long legs that were somehow folded in a ladylike position despite the task at hand. 

He cleared his throat suddenly. “Can you clean up the gash on my forehead? I don’t like getting blood in my eyes.”

You smiled at him, knowing that he was unwilling to acknowledge that you had won. It made him even more attracted to you. 

Azriel took a steadying breath as you left him alone for a moment to get another wet towel. When you came back you dabbed at the cut above his left eye, more gently than he would have thought possible. He watched your eyes, your lips, your throat as you worked. 

“I am glad you’re okay, you know,” you said so quietly he almost didn’t hear it.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out and caught your wrist in his hand, stilling your movements, forcing your gaze to meet his. “I’m sorry I made you cry,” he said as gently as he had ever said anything. “I never meant to hurt you.”

You swallowed, and Azriel’s eyes tracked the movement. “I didn’t think you cared,” you said quietly. 

He winced slightly. “To be honest with you, I didn’t think I did either… but, I do.”

Your eyes dipped to his lips for the slightest moment before you cleared your throat and pulled away slightly. Azriel let his hand drop from yours as you continued to clean the cut on his forehead. 

As he watched you, his gaze snagging on your lips, his mind wandered to all those years that you had been there, sitting at that desk, a steady presence, always there for whatever needed to be done. He had never noticed before how integral you were in his life, and he felt like the most foolish kind of asshole for never noticing how perfect you were. 

For years, he barely paid attention to you, and now he really felt like if he couldn’t kiss you, he might die. 

The two of you remained silent as you placed gauze on the cut, then surveyed him again, gingerly pulling his hand into your lap and cleaning his bloody knuckles. Your skin, the fabric of your dress, was so soft against his callused, scarred hand, and his fingers flexed where they rested in your lap. He marveled at how you took such care to be gentle, even after everything he had said and done that night. 

“There,” you said quietly, after his hands were clean, your eyes meeting his for the first time in several minutes. “All better.”

“Almost,” he smirked. “Still hurts like hell.”

“What, you want me to kiss it better?” You said sarcastically, smiling. 

Azriel raised his eyebrows. “I think that might help.”

You stilled, holding his gaze, and Azriel swore he could see the battle in your mind, whether to walk away or take him up on it just to be a smartass. He desperately hoped you would pick the latter. 

When he saw your eyes spark with challenge, he knew what you would do. 

Agonizingly slowly, you brought his hand up to your lips, not breaking eye contact with him. You pressed a feather light kiss across his knuckles, and the touch went all the way through him, tingling into his toes. 

“Where else does it hurt?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He swallowed, then lightly ran his index finger along the cut on his forehead. 

You stood, your eyes locked on his as you slowly, gently placed your hands on both of his cheeks, tilting his face up before brushing a kiss to his forehead, your eyes fluttering closed for the briefest moment as your lips graced his skin. 

It took everything in him to keep his hands at his sides, to not grab your hips and pull you down on top of him. 

Pulling back to look at him again, you raised your eyebrow. A silent question. A new dance you were both learning the steps to in tandem.

He didn’t think he was breathing as he took your hand in his and guided it to the bandage on his abdomen. 

Your eyes sparked again as you sank to your knees in front of him. He felt his need for you growing at the sight, at the thought of what else you could be doing on your knees like that. 

You looked up at him from under your lashes, as you leaned forward, kissing a line across the bandage and over his skin. 

He caught your chin as you moved to pull away, guiding you back to him. You smiled faintly before dropping your eyes to his chest, peppering light kisses across his abs. 

After you pulled away, you stayed on your knees, looking up at him expectantly. 

Azriel frankly thought that he had been showing remarkable restraint up until this point, and he didn’t think he could handle it anymore. Your name came out as a growl as he took your face in his hands and pulled you up, settling you on his lap, straddling him, before he brought your mouth to his. 

Immediately you melted into him, pressing your body fully against his. One of Azriel’s hands slid down to your waist, the other coming behind your neck, lightly stroking his thumb down, making you shiver. 

You wound your hands into his hair, groaning into his mouth, and he couldn’t stop his hips from bucking up into yours, his hand trailing down to grip your ass lightly through your dress for a moment, before moving back down to your thigh, sneaking up underneath your dress, his thumb tracing the edge of your panties. 

“Azriel,” you moaned, throwing your head back, and he immediately moved his lips to your neck, kissing gently before nipping with his teeth. You gasped, tightening your grip on his hair and he groaned into your skin. 

Gently, he wrapped a hand around your throat, capturing your lips with his, sliding his tongue into your mouth as he continued tracing the outline of your underwear.

You began to rock your hips against him, and he couldn't take it anymore, had never wanted anybody so badly in his life. 

He tugged your panties to the side, running his thumb along your entrance. “Fuck,” he groaned. “You're so wet for me, sweetheart.”

Whimpering, your head slumped forward, resting on his shoulder as he slowly slid a finger into you. You dug your fingers into his biceps, moving against his hand.

“You want more, baby?” He murmured, his mouth at your ear. 

You nodded into his shoulder.

“I'm going to need you to say it,” he teased, grazing his teeth down your neck.

Groaning, your face still buried in his neck, you said quietly into his skin, “I want more.”

“That's my girl,” he said, smacking your ass as he slid another finger inside you, quickly pumping in and out.

You practically screamed when he curled his fingers, hitting your sweet spot. You finally held your head up, grabbing his wrist, looking at him with wide, lust filled eyes. “If you don't stop, I'm gonna--”

Azriel smirked, not slowing his rhythm. “Come? You're gonna come for me?”

Biting your lip, you didn't respond.

“It's okay baby, you can come. That's what you want, isn't it?” He said sweetly.

You nodded, unable to meet his eyes. 

He took your throat in his hand again, forcing you to look at him. “Look at me when I make you come,” he growled.

And that was enough to send you over the edge. You did as you were told, looking right into his eyes as you screamed. He helped you through it, not stopping his movements until you were slumped against him.

He gently ran his hands through your hair, soothingly down your back as you caught your breath.

When you looked back up at him expectantly, his heart swelled. “You ready to call it a night?” He asked.

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him. “Absolutely not.”

“Good,” he smirked, standing up and taking you with him, his arms wrapped around your waist, carrying you like it was nothing. You shrieked as he picked you up and giggled when he strode across the room and set you on the desk. 

You parted your legs and he stepped in between them, sliding your sleeves down your shoulders, pushing your dress all the way down to your waist. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmured as he kissed down your neck, unhooking your bra and throwing it to the floor. 

Clinging to his bare shoulders, you were gasping as he took your breasts in his hands, circling your nipple with his thumb.

Suddenly, he pulled you off the desk so you were standing, and pushed your dress down, making it fall to the floor, before ripping your panties in half, and dropping to his knees in front of you. 

“Azriel,” you gasped.

“Sorry,” he said, smirking up at you, his mouth barely an inch from where he needed it to be. “I’ll buy you new ones.”

And then he was tasting you, tasting the proof of how badly you wanted him and you were moaning, leaning against the desk to keep yourself upright, your hands weaving into his hair again, pushing him deeper into you. He groaned, wrapping his hands around the backs of your knees, grounding himself. 

He chuckled against you when you started squirming, your legs shaking, little whines coming out from the back of your throat.

When the strain of his length against his pants became unbearable, he stood up abruptly and you looked up at him with wide eyes before he kissed you roughly, lifting you to sit on the desk again.

He reveled in the pure lust that clouded your eyes as he undid his belt and dropped his pants to the ground in one swift movement. 

You were immediately reaching for him, pulling his chest to yours, and he watched your eyes widen, your mouth fall open, as he slid inside you in one powerful thrust.

He thought he should probably wait, to give you just a moment to adjust to him, but then you gasped, your mouth against his ear, “More.”

A growl escaped from his throat and without another moment of hesitation, he was pounding into you, your moans and gasps ricocheting off the walls, spurring him on further.

“I thought I told you to stop telling me what to do,” he smirked.

“I'll stop telling you what to do when I stop being right,” you smiled.

Azriel burst out laughing, right there in the middle of the office, buried deep inside you. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed at all.

He marveled at you, this beautiful, brilliant, funny woman, and suddenly could hardly remember a time when he wasn't head over heels for you.

Leaning his forehead against yours for a moment, kissing your lips, he said, “You're incredible, you know that?”

You cupped his cheek with a hand, smiling. “It's about time you figured it out, boss.”

He groaned, leaning back and wrapping your hair around his fist, pulling down gently to expose your neck, to watch your every reaction as he thrusted into you again and again.

It wasn't long until he was close, and he could tell from your panting, your shaking legs, that you were close too.

“Are you going to come for me again?” He murmured, still holding your hair. You nodded, and he pressed on, speeding up his pace. “Yeah? You're gonna be a good girl and come for me?”

You moaned and he smirked, his hips moving in increasingly jerky movements until you tightened around him, crying out, clinging to him.

He came right after, burying his face in your neck and riding out the high with you.

Azriel cupped your face in his hands and kissed you softly. You smiled at him as he pulled on his boxers, then he helped you get dressed, smirking as you picked up the ruined underwear.

“You just had to rip them off, didn't you?” You teased, tossing them at him. 

He shrugged, straightening one of your sleeves. “Maybe you should learn your lesson and not wear any next time.” 

“To work?” 

“My place,” he smirked, taking your hand and pulling your body into his before he kissed you again. “I'll make dinner, tell you how smart and beautiful you are, and then rip your clothes off.”

You smiled, glancing down at your hand interlocked with his before meeting his eyes again. “Sounds like a plan.”

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @melmo567 @evergreenlark @ecliphttlunar @bookloverandalsocats @sillysillygoose444 @halibshepherd @azrielshadows1nger @cigvrette-dvydrevms @headacheseason @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria

[stevie-petey]

blurb idea? stug isn't having sex yet obviously but maybe dustin walks into bug's room while they're lying really close on her bed reading together and he flips his shit like OH MY EYES and they're like ...boy we're literally just sitting here. and steve's over for dinner and dustin refuses to look at him and claudia's like ok what's up and you're like literally nothing he's so dumb

i love dramatic dustin with stug so YES !!

enjoy <3

"so jo just rejects laurie? like, flat out, brutally rejects his marriage proposal after years of being best friends and basically already in love?"

"i mean, there are some nuances youre missing, but yeah. basically."

"what kind of sick book is this?" steve shoves the book away from him in disdain. his nose is scrunched up, offended, and you refrain from kissing it all better.

you fix a piece of hair thats fallen in his face as he lays next to you on your bed. "jo and laurie are tragic, i'll admit." your words are rough from reading for hours. steve always insists that you read the books for him, he claims youre better at it, but you know its because he loves the sound of your voice. "but its what makes the book so wonderful, dont you think?"

steve rolls his eyes at you. "your obsession with tragic romances concerns me. what, are you going to reject my proposal next? make me beg on my hands and knees for you?"

"technically you already did beg on your hands and knees for me-"

"wait, you didnt say youd accept my proposal."

with a sly laugh you clear your throat and bring the book back up to your face, continuing to read. steve stares at you as you read the heartbreaking words aloud, his eyes travel the length of your neck and the slope of your nose. the scene youre reading breaks his heart more than hed care to admit. youve been reading little women to steve for a few weeks now. he really thought itd be jo and laurie in the end.

lost in the way you voice lilts between jos soft rejection and lauries broken pleads, neither you nor steve hear dustin calling for you until its too late.

the boy barges into your room and nearly shrieks his head off when he realizes steve is in bed with you. "my eyes!" he cowers to close the door, covering his face with his grubby little hands.

"dustin!" you shout at him, throwing a pillow at him to shut up him. hes being dramatic, you and steve werent even doing anything. your boyfriend is lying next to you while you read him a long and horrendous breakup scene from a classic book. if anything, the two of you should be doing literally anything else.

steve rolls off your bed and lands on his feet in one fluid motion before running over to your brother. grabbing dustins shoulders, he shakes him to try and stop the screaming. "hey! alright, can you quit it?"

"no! you were-you-my eyes!" dustin scrubs at his face with utter turmoil. he hadnt even known that steve was in his house. normally the asshole makes his presence known, stops by dustins room to say hi. its why he barged in in the first place.

had dustin known hed walk into steve in your bed, he wouldve brought a goddamn flame thrower with him instead.

"we were reading, you moron!" youre next to steve now, desperately trying to quiet your brother before your mom asks whats going on. hes already bad enough, but if your mother finds out steve had been in your bed as well, thered be permanent hearing loss.

"read at your desk! thats what those damn things are built for!"

steve shoves his hand through his hair, agitated. "oh, and who are you? the desk police?"

"'desk police'?" you stare at the teen, disappointed. "thats the best you could come up with?"

"im under a lot of pressure right now. cut me some slack."

"i want you dead."

both you and steve turn to dustin, shocked and disturbed by his words.

"okay, thank you for sharing your feelings, dustin." awkwardly you pat his shoulder. at least hes being honest and open with you. "not necessarily what i wanted to hear, but im proud of you for sharing-"

"he wants me dead and youre commending him?"

"not now," jamming an elbow into steves side, you shut him up and focus on your brother again. "now, is there a reason you barged in or can we go back to reading?"

dustins grimace on his face seems permanent now. his nose is slightly upturned, his eyes distrusting. narrowing them at you, he takes slow, calculated steps back out of your room. "dinner is ready," he says tersely before leaving entirely.

"well, this will be fun." steve sighs, and you nod grimly.

dinner is not fun.

dustin doesnt look steve in the eye the entire time. he sits as far away as possible from the teen. when asked to pass the bread, dustin pointedly ignores steves request and throws a roll to you. the bread nearly knocks your mothers water over and shes finally had enough.

"goodness, dusty! what has gotten into you tonight?" she exclaims, settling the glass that threatens to spill.

mouth full of mashed potatoes, his eyes light up evilly. before he can even think about opening his obnoxious mouth, you kick him underneath the table. your foot connects with his shin and dustin wheezes mashed potatoes all over his meal.

"dusty!" your mother gasps, alarmed. she looks at you in concern while steve snorts into his glass of water. "what is going on with you three?"

"nothing, mom." grabbing the bread that was thrown at you, you pick it apart with your fingers and make a delighted sound. "dinner is lovely tonight, by the way."

"i love what youve done with the mashed potatoes, mrs. henderson." steve is quick to add, jumping in. he makes a whole show of scooping up the mashed food and shoving it into his mouth, moaning in pleasure. "is there garlic in this?"

your mother, always easily distracted, claps her hands with joy. "why, yes! i wanted to try something different. do you really like it?"

"i adore it."

later that night you find yurtle the turtles mealworms underneath your pillow.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

the idea of college!hockey!peter gets me everytime like he’s prolly a little of an asshole and so cockeyyyyy ahhhhh i want him to bully me into having sex with him

73

✰ college!hockey!peter parker x f!reader

✰ word count: 0.8k

✰ summary: why keep peter when he keeps giving you the asshole treatment? you know why, but you wouldn't dare say it out loud.

✰ warnings: language, peter is depicted as taller than the reader, a tease of smut but no actual.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

main m.list ⋆ peter parker m.list

gif by @ddlovatosrps

You swore off coming to another one of Peter’s games, but here you were, sitting in the worn-down stands of your school’s hockey rink. The arena was packed as you tried to navigate your way to the seat that Peter saved for you, his practice jersey slung over the back of the plastic. 

peter🏒: 

i saved you a seat. my jersey is on it

you should wear it

When you received that text from him, you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the stupid smile that grew on your face. Peter’s always been a pain in your ass, so why couldn’t you push him away?

Peter’s team was entering the rink, causing an uproar from the home side. Making a few laps around the perimeter of the ice, your eyes caught the bold ‘73’ on the back of his jersey, matching yours. 

Little kids and other college girls flood the glass, holding signs and waving them around, hoping to catch their favorite player’s attention. You couldn’t help but notice quite a few of the posters having ‘HEY PARKER! CAN I HAVE A PUCK?’ drawn on in thick letters. Peter has been team captain for two years now, and his skill with a puck and a stick has been widely received. 

A few minutes pass before the game officially starts. You weren’t the biggest fan of hockey until you met Peter. He brought you to practice, and his games and made you watch every game of the professional league’s playoffs last season. And with every goal, he would always turn around to you and say, “I could totally do that by the way.” And every single time you would push his face away and laugh. At first, you thought he was joking just to be funny, but then you realized he was dead serious. 

This season really did prove that he could score at least two points each game, and he never failed to make you realize that. Tonight was no exception. 

5-1 was the final score when the third period ended, making everyone jump up in their seats. You slowly stood, clapping your hands while keeping your eye on Peter, a soft smile appearing on your lips at the sight of him celebrating with his teammates. After a few minutes, the team starts to head back into the locker room with Peter being the last in the line. Walking down to the glass, you meet him there. He smirks before flipping you off. “I told you so,” he yells through the glass. 

“I hate you,” you tell back, ignoring the growing crowd around you. The world around you seems to not exist when you are with Peter, it’s annoying. 

He begins to skate away before mouthing, “No, you don’t.” 

At the end of every game, you meet Peter outside where the door to the locker room leads. You’re usually surrounded by the team’s girlfriends waiting to celebrate their boyfriend’s win. And though you aren’t Peter’s girl, you still smile at the hugs and kisses the girls around you receive. 

As soon as Peter’s moppy brown hair and broad frame come through the door, your smile drops. He knew you’d be waiting here for him, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of you potentially being happy to see him. 

“Where’s my hug and kiss, (L/N)?” Peter’s deep and now scratchy voice floods your ears. 

Your arms cross in front of you as you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, his height drastically different from yours, “Yeah, you’re real funny, Parker.” 

His arm slings over your shoulder as he leads you to his car, his body still warm. He pops open his trunk, dropping his equipment inside before holding your face in both his hands, giving your cheeks a small squeeze before kissing your lips. “Don’t act so grumpy, buggy. We both know you want me to fuck you dumb on my cock,” he whispers against your lips. 

Your cheeks flush, and your body runs hot immediately. Releasing your eye contact with him, you look away, nervous, “Is that what you tell yourself to make you feel better?” 

His lips are so close to touching yours again, and you’re almost aching for his touch, but you won’t give yourself away. You can feel a huff of a laugh against your lips before he pulls away, “I don’t need to make myself feel better, I just want to make you feel good.” You’re frozen in place for a few seconds, not even noticing that Peter is already at the passenger door, holding it open for you, “You coming, or are you gonna stand there and look stupid?” 

You quickly make your way to the door, shoving his chest before entering his car. He slams the door once you get settled in.

 Peter fucking sucks, but why do I need him so bad?

✰ author's note: I LOVE HOCKEY PETER!!! sorry anon, i couldn't make him super mean because i love when he has a soft spot for the reader. thank you for sending in this ask!! if you want to aswell, my ask box is open! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed. ok, ily bye!!

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Along Time in Coming (Part 24)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

tw descriptions of violence

Danny didn’t dodge Pariah’s lunge, he threw up a shield. Pariah’s ecto-blasts were much stronger than anyone Danny had fought before and there was no way he could stop them outright. But the shield slowed him down enough to give Danny the moment he needed to ready a counter attack. He uppercut Pariah as hard as he could, he wanted to get the mad king further up, away from the ground and all the people on it. He was almost surprised by how far he did send the larger spirit flying, and he had to rush to catch up before Pariah regained his senses. 

Behind Danny he could hear the whir of the little drone chasing after them to keep watching the fight. That worried him a little because he didn’t want the little thing to get broken, especially since it was starting to develop. He couldn’t spare much of his attention to that though, he needed to focus on this fight, he couldn’t let himself worry about anything else right now. Something that was very much confirmed for him when Pariah had his sword at the ready before Danny even reached him. 

Danny was used to fighting with his bare hands against people with guns, the sword wasn’t particularly intimidating, as long as Danny didn’t think about Fright Knight. Pariah laughed as he swung forcing Danny to contort himself to avoid the blow, not far enough that he couldn’t blast back though, and Pariah hadn’t recovered from his own swing before Danny’s ecto blast slammed him in the chest, sending him skidding back with a scorch mark on his chest plate. If Danny could hit the same place a few more times he was sure that he could break through, hopefully his aim was up to the task. 

“Your attempts are pathetic!” Pariah crowd, finding his footing quickly. “You couldn’t destroy me last time, why would this time be any different?”

Danny knew why he was taunting like that, all the ghosts Danny fought did. All of them were already dead, this felt like a game to them. It would seem like a game to Pariah too, but he was worse than the others. He only enjoyed it more when it was miserable for everyone else, he caused pain and suffering on purpose, to the people he was supposed to rule over and protect. He could not be allowed to persist. 

“This time will be different,” Danny said, with flat determination as he reformed his hands into wicked claws. Pariah was the most adept in melee combat, but Danny did best at hand to hand. He’d been trying to keep the fight at a distance and force Pariah back and away from potential collateral damage but now if he could get in close he felt like the fight was as good as won. 

Danny rushed in but Pariah was ready for him this time and managed to dodge. Danny snarled and pivoted before his momentum was finished, skidding back in time to deflect the Mad King’s sword. He knocked it aside but when he tried to get under Pariah’s guard he managed to twist away and Danny felt his makeshift claws slide off the metal of his armour with a sickening screech that set Danny's teeth on edge. Pariah laughed again but Danny was not interested in his amusement or his banter so he paid no attention to whatever it was Pariah had to say and engaged again immediately. It wasn't like he needed to catch his breath after all.

Pariah seemed like he was getting annoyed by Danny’s lack of engagement but Danny could not have given less of a shit about what that asshole felt and thought. 

“What can I do to help?” Superman called from behind Danny.

Danny dropped a foot out of pure shock at the sound of the voice. He had thought that everyone in the JL would know better than to interrupt this fight, yet here the man of steel was, hovering anxiously behind him. Man of Steel or not he knew that he wasn't immortal, he should have known better surely! Yet there he was, gloating anxiously behind Danny, at least he had the good sense to wait until he wasn't actively fighting and risk throwing Danny off.

“You can get the fuck out of the way!” Danny snapped at him trying to get between Superman and Pariah Dark without making it obvious.

“I want to help!”

“Then go check for survivors down there! This has to be single combat.” 

“But-” 

“Foolish mortal you interfere!” Pariah boomed, and before Danny could get in the way Pariah summoned a blast of red energy and shot Superman in the chest. He was sent flying back, Danny expected him to catch himself and try to get involved again. But he was wrong and Superman dropped out of the sky like a fucking stone. 

Danny had no idea if he was okay, he could smell the subtle lingering scent of burnt flesh and if he had had even a moment to think about what had just happened he would have been very worried about the hero. Whether he liked Superman or not he was one of earth’s greatest defenders and Danny sure af fuck didn’t want him to die! But Danny did not have a minute, and while Pariah was distracted was the best opportunity he was going to get.

Danny forced himself to turn worry about the Super’s smoking fall to earth into rage and rushed Pariah again while he was still looking away. By the time he looked back at Phantom, Danny was close enough to watch the mad king’s eyes widen slightly as Danny crowded into his space, under his guard. Pariah tried to twist away again, get back far enough that he could get his sword up and attack again but Danny didn’t give him the chance. 

Danny grabbed the front of Pariah’s armour, slashing at his throat with the other clawed hand. He knew a slit throat wasn’t enough to kill an even halfway stable ghost, but it would weaken him and shut him up as Danny got a better grip on the front of Pariah’s armour with both hands and ripped that fucker open like a tin can while he flailed.

His snarl was wet, ectoplasm leaking from the corner of his mouth as he bared his teeth at Danny, trying to get a good grip and force Danny back. He looked like he should have been much stronger then Danny, but Danny was denser and he was strong, he was not budging. He pulled back one hand and plunged towards Pariah’s chest where his core was housed. Pariah realized what he was doing in just the nick of time and grabbed Danny’s wrist just as his fingertips sunk in to yielding ectoplasm.

They were at a standoff, struggling against each other as Danny tried to push in further and Pariah tried to push him back. He could feel Pariah’s ectoplasm swirling around his fingers, trying to repair itself but unable to while his claws were still inside. It was a very odd sensation.

Danny pushed forward and Pariah pushed back, the force of it sent them end over end but since gravity meant nothing it got neither of them closer to their goal. 

Danny could feel his fury building in him, he was so fucking done with this sight, and all this posturing. He couldn’t overpower Pariah on brute strength alone no matter how much he wanted to and if Pariah let go of his sword and grabbed Danny by the back of the neck he would be able to rip him away. 

Danny didn’t even really mean to do it when he wailed directly into Pariah’s face, it was just a bubbling over of his rage as he screamed loud enough to rupture even ectoplasmic eardrums. Pariah flinched, and that momentary weakness was all Danny needed to plunge his claws deep into Pariah’s chest, his hand curling around the hard orb of his core, the only truly solid thing within the beings body. Pariah choked as Danny ripped his core out without a moment of hesitation. 

He clawed at his own chest as if he could fill the hole somehow, but it was much too late. Danny laughed at the sight and pushed away from Pariah even as the ghost desperately reached for him. Danny just grinned at him, and with Pariah already starting to melt but still watching, Danny popped the bastard's core into his mouth and crushed it between his teeth. 

Pariah collapsed into green goo and evaporated quickly as the power that had once animated him flooded Danny’s body. He felt rage and bloodlust accompanying the power and he gasped, shuddering as he rode the wave of Pariah’s dying rage. Danny thought his eyes might have flashed red for a moment but he couldn’t know for sure. Then… it was over, and Danny sighed, rolling his shoulders and tilting his head towards the sky. He had done it, he had won and his world was going to be safe. 

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes looking around him and grinned too wide when he spotted the little drone still following him. That meant the JL, and probably the UN was still watching, he waved at it. 

Wait! The Justice League! Superman, he had fallen, Danny needed to go check on him. He let gravity take hold of him again and dropped down towards earth. As he broke cloud cover he was once again confronted by the devastation Pariah had inflicted while Danny had been waiting for the UN to sign the surrender. From this high up he could see the full scope of the damage, there were miles upon miles of what had once been a city and countryside that was now a pile of charred rubble, some of which was still actively smoking. From this high up he couldn’t see any people, and he wouldn’t be able to see the bodies trapped under all that debris. He would never be able fully understand the effect it had on the people who were caught up in this and he’d have to accept that because trying would drive him even more insane then he already was.

Despite his rush he couldn’t help but pause to look over it, nausea churning in his non-existent stomach as he struggled to comprehend the scope of this apocalyptic scene. His brain felt like it was frozen, screeching to a forced halt as his younger self wallowed with guilt and some dark part of him thrilled at the suffering. If he chose, if he could let himself, he could have fed on that suffering and the emotions would have fueled his powers to greater heights. As if he needed to be more powerful. 

Before he could spiral into a full panic attack about the implications he spotted two figures rising up to meet him. He barely had time to notice and raise his arms before Ellie slammed into him and hugged him tight, he let out an oof as she squeezed the air out of the memory of his lunges. He smiled a little and hugged her back, before glancing at the second figure, it was Dan smiling slightly as he followed behind more slowly. 

“We were so worried about you!��� Ellie sniffled as she clung to him. 

“The pipsqueak is right, I didn’t know if you could handle such a big fight,” Dan added with the edge of a sneer. 

Danny stuck his tongue out at Danny while he stroked Ellie’s hair. “Hey you beat him in your timeline didn’t you? And I beat you so of course I could handle him, don’t be… silly.” Danny said, toning down what he was originally going to say because Ellie had been worried too and he didn’t want to make her feel bad.

“Hey if you’re more powerful in this timeline maybe so was he,” Dan said with a casual shrug. Danny rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Ellie.

“How are you Ellie, how are all your friends? Are you okay?” He asked. 

“I’m alright, so are the rest of Teen Titans. Raven and Nightwing were pretty badly hurt but we got them out of the fight and they’re stable,” Ellie assured him.

Danny relaxed a little before the tension suddenly returned. “What about Superman?” He asked quickly.

“What about him?” Dan asked, and Ellie looked puzzled too.

“Pariah shot him and he fell, have you seen him?” Danny glanced back and forth between his siblings, both shook his head. “We have to find him,” Danny insisted, letting go of Ellie and continuing his fall towards earth with both of them on his heels. 

They fanned out, Danny and Ellie searching desperately, Dan more casually because he didn’t care as much. He was probably only helping to indulge Ellie and Danny but he appreciated it anyway. 

Danny didn’t see Superman yet, but he could see Red Hood making his way towards them and swooped down to meet him. Jason raised his hands and Danny took them, squeezing them gently.

“What are you looking for?” Hood asked as he squeezed Danny’s hands back. 

When all of this was over Danny owed Jason a very fun night wearing something sexy because as soon as Danny explained what was going on Jason snapped into motion. He squeezed Danny’s hands one more time before sending him up again to be a bird's eye view while he rushed to organize everyone left on the ground into a search party. Not just for Superman of course, but for everyone who might be lost or crushed under all the fallen buildings. 

They found plenty of people, the Flash family were making constant trips back and forth to take those who could be moved safely to any available hospital in the county between helping with the search themselves. Emergency helicopters were constantly circling to take those not stable enough for the Flash’s transportation methods as well. Danny had seen plenty of blood and injury in his time working for, and then with Red Hood, but some of these injuries were beyond anything he’d seen. It was trying even his nerves and yet all of Teen Titans worked alongside them, grim faced and determined. Danny almost wished they wouldn’t, but he knew better then to stay anything.

They dug out and saved a lot of people, but for every one person they found alive they found at least ten bodies, which they laid out as respectfully as they could in the longest remaining clear stretch of road and covered when possible. They would have to be identified later, the ones who could still be identified, the rest would have to be DNA tested or something. It wasn’t the best solution, but they had limited resources to evacuate and they needed to focus on caring for the living for now. 

The longer they looked the more worried everyone got. Superman had super hearing, if he had been at all conscious he should have been responding to his calls for anyone in need of help, but they heard nothing. Danny had truly hoped that the ectoplasm wouldn’t be more affective then a normal bullet, after all just because it was glowing green didn’t mean it was related to kryptonite right?! But his hope that Supes wouldn’t be badly hurt was dwindling by the minute. Ya Danny hadn’t liked the guy, sure but he was worried too, and watching as Kon searched with increasing desperation was devastating.

Finally the call came that Superman had been found and Kon rushed to see, with Danny on his heels. The Flash was already standing by since he’d been the one who found Superman, who had apparently fallen hard enough to make a small crater and have a wall fall on top of him. Kon grabbed the edge of the wall and heaved it off of his sort-of-father so they could get to him. 

Danny’s breath caught in his throat and Kon stumbled back when they saw the hero, his suit had been burned away, and so had most of the flesh on his chest. Danny could see flashes of white bone through the charred flesh and next to him Kon froze as well. He let out a choked sort of keen and before Danny could think he was pulling the larger, but much younger man into a fierce embrace, before either of them could properly examine the gruesome details. Kon hid against Danny’s chest, shaking slightly, in another moment Ellie was there too, pressed against Kon’s back and comforting.

“He’s still breathing!” Flash yelled even as Robin rushed by them, resting a hand for just a moment on Kon’s shoulder before leaping down into the crater. He always showed love and support through action, and he would make sure Kon’s shitty DNA doner didn’t get a chance to die before they mended their relationship. He got to work setting up an IV with fluids, checking vitals and shouting at everyone around him, snapping them into motion and organizing evacuation for Clark to get to the watch tower where he could get help from doctors who somewhat understood Kryptonian biology. He left Kon, Ellie, and Danny be though, letting them sooth him as best as he could. 

He was airlifted out in one of the JL’s jets before Robin climbed back out of the crater and rested a hand on Kon’s shoulder again. “He’ll survive, he’s in good hands now. But Kon, there’s a lot more people here who still need helps, he’s not the only one trapped under walls and the others are just human. Can you keep helping us?” He asked softly, trying not to pressure his friend into doing something he wasn’t ready for, even if later he wouldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t help now. 

Kon took a deep breath and then gently pushed Danny away. He set his jaw, rolled his shoulders, and then nodded to Tim. “Of course I’ll help,” He said in a voice still rough and thick with emotion. Tim nodded back, there would be time enough later for emotions, now was the time for action.

Danny felt a swell of unearned pride about the young heroes of character. This team, all of young justice, were so strong and mature for their age, so good. They had support in each other, and some adults, they would grow up to be a better generation of heroes, be better than him for sure. He had made the right choice in having Ellie stay with them, and he was glad she felt comfortable there and had agreed to stay.

They worked all day, and through the night finding and saving everyone they could. Those with super strength made sure no stone was left unturned no matter their size. The children they found were the worst and made Danny’s gut churn with guilt, but no matter how many times Jason approached him to gently remind him they were mercenaries and didn’t have to help if they didn’t want to, Danny rebuffed him. He said it was good politics to help since he would be kind now and one of his people caused the destruction, but in reality he wanted to help, needed to even for his own peace of mind and because he couldn’t leave the young team.

Finally they ran out of places to look, and the bodies started to be taken out to tents set up outside the city perimeter. The rebuilding was yet to begin but the emergency was over, and even heroes needed to rest sometimes. Danny could feel fatigue weighing heavy on himself, and he was sure once the adrenaline wore off Kon was going to have to carry Tim home, or maybe Cassie would have to carry both of them.

He was ready to go home too, finally, and went to find Jason so they could go home together. If only the universe would let him have that. Danny paused as he felt a familiar rush of cold and bit back a groan as he looked around to confirm the rest of the world had stopped moving. He turned to see where Clockwork was and yelped when he found the man already standing too close to Danny’s back. He jumped back and cursed while the old man wore a thin smile that told Danny the bastard had absolutely done it on purpose. 

“It’s time?” Danny asked when he had regained his composure. 

“Yes, it’s time,” Clockwork agreed. He rapped his cane firmly on the ground and the rest of the ghost council started to cluster around. Clockwork must have given them amulets for the occasion, but that wasn’t what Danny wanted. 

“Wait!” He snapped as an ambassador for the Observants stepped forward holding the crown. There was an annoyed ripple of clocks but Danny ignored that and looked to Clockwork. “Unfreeze time. I want my fiance, and the human world at large to witness my coronation.”

“Your Highness, you know as well as any of us that the Mortal world and the dead aren’t supposed to mix, it’s-” Pandora started to say, proper as ever.

“A bit too late for that,” Danny interrupted, gesturing at the destruction around them. “Besides, I’m still of this world. I’m half living, half dead, I am Balance. I’ll need to spend as much time here as I do in the Realms, so they might as well know.” 

Clockwork tilted his head, considering the proposal as he shifted through ages. Once he had cycled back to being an old man he nodded slowly. “Alright, if that is what you wish,” He agreed, and time started moving again, now with more than a dozen ghosts standing in the middle of the recent ruins. “It is long past time for us to officially crown you as the new king.”

[sterredem]

enough for you

Lando norris x ex!Singer!reader

Face claim Olivia Rodrigo

Warning comparison, angst (not really), not proofread, spelling mistakes (as always)

Summary basically just the song enough for you

A/N no part 2. I really love this one. It’s a bit short but still one of my favs.

Don’t forget to repast and comments. And dead back is also welcome❤️💜

Twitter

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Real life

Y/n was miserable. That was to say the least.

While her relationship with Lando was at the beginning beautiful now it was… not. As the internet has seen she has changed herself. She begin to where make up. That was because she thought if she looked like the people he had dated before he would like her more. All that and all the hundreds of dollars spent on make up only for him to say he wasn’t the ‘compliment type’.

She also began reading his self-help books. That was because she wanted him to think she was smart- she was. That was besides the point, but she wanted her to seem intelligent in the things he read too.

Besides those things she did some things that he would like; she learned his coffee order, and how you can make. And she learned all his favourite songs. She now knew all of them by hard.

And still, with all that. He was an asshole. Sure he wasn’t mean but he could surtenly be nicer. Because while y/n did all those nice things, Lando just couldn’t get himself to appreciate it or acknowledge what she did.

And that is how she ended up here. Crying on the bathroom floor after she realised everything he did wrong. She realised it after seeing the comments left on her newest YouTube vlog. After that she also saw some twitter threads and then everything hit her. He was in the wrong, not her.

And she was done.

After a few hours of self pity she decided that it was time to get ready. What was she getting ready for you ask? A date with Lando…

Yeah maybe that wasn’t the best idea.

But she stood up and made herself look presentable. After waiting a few more minutes the doorbell rang and she walked to the door. There he stood. He looked good. But she knew what was to come. They greeted each other kind of awkwardly. They both knew that their relationship wasn’t the same as before.

They walked to his car and got to a restaurant where the date was.

That part of the date was alright. The part where it got wrong was when they both returned to the girls house. She invited him in and he took the invasion.

Once in and seated on the couch Lando began talking “Y/n I am so sorry to do this to you.” He began.

“Can you just get to the point?” The girl cut him off. She already had teary eyes.

“Alright. I want to break up. We just aren’t the same anymore. You are never satisfied with anything I do, and I just don’t love you anymore. I care about you as a friend, but not as a partner.” Lando said. It almost looked like he was trying to fake cry. But that happened more than once. Y/n had just accepted that he didn’t have much emotion for her once the 1 year mark passed. And that was 1 year ago.

Y/n was speechless. Well not really. But all what he had to say was ether insulting him, screaming at him or saying things she will regret. So she just waited till he soos something else. She knew that there will be something else. Thief relationship was more complicated to just leave because he ‘didn’t love her anymore’. She knew that.

“Y/n, say something. Please.” She didn’t. He repeated the sentence a few times. Every time he said it a bit louder. Until he was almost screaming. “Say something dammit! Be mad at me, scream at me, punch me. Anything! Just not silence.” Lando said. She had a suspicion why.

“Why Lando?” She whispered. Lando almost didn’t hear her. But he did. And he had a questioning look on his face.

“Why what?” He asked aloud. His voice a little softer than before.

“Why don’t you love me anymore? What is it? I know these is more to the story than you are saying.” She said. She was now talking aloud.

“I- Y/n. I am so sorry.” He said. He didn’t want to say it out loud. “I-“

“Just say it Lando! I deserve to know. You are breaking up with me. Just let me know why.” The girl said.

“Y/n. I don’t want to hurt you.” The boy said. She gave him a look. “Alright. I just- I haven’t loved you for some time. And so I just began talking to some people. And there was this girl- we didn’t do anything. But I have come to love her. I just- I am so sorry Y/n.”

That was the breaking point for the girl. She had a suspicion about it but him really saying it hurt. “Please just leave.” She said. She was now almost crying.

Lando took the hint and walked out of the room. He walked back with some paper towels for her and placed it on a table. “I will go home. I will bring your things at my house to your friend. Can you maybe packs a box with mine? You can just drop that off at mine when I am away on a racing weekend. I will put the keys of your house on the table by the front door.” Lando explained. With that he walked out of her house and placed the key on the table.

When she heard the door close she broke down. At this point she was filling crying. He found someone more exiting. All the things he had said hurt hear deep down. All she had ever wanted was to be enough for him.

Maybe she just wasn’t as interesting as all the girls before. But still- he couldn’t have cared less. She loved him more than she had ever loved someone else.

After a few more minutes of crying she stared thinking again. She didn’t want his sympathy she just wanted herself back.

She didn’t just broke her hard- he broke so much more.

She needed to think about something else. She first needed to poor her heart out and then get a distraction. But how could she do that best?

She had an idea. So she walked towards her music studio, grabbed her notebook and began writing. She sat there for a few hours. Writing, making melodies, recording voice notes and music notes. Until she almost had a whole song.

After that she called het best friend for a distraction. But not befit she had sent all the notes to her producer.

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Instagram

Liked by TaylorSwift and 4.836.836 others

Yourusername ‘Enough for you’ out now! This is a song that is very close to me. I wrote this song a time of my life where it felt like there was no hope. I hope that you will all love this song as much as I do💜

View all 206.835 comments

Taylorswift Amazing song💜

SabrinaCarpenter A real masterpiece

Y/f/n 💜💜

Charles_Leclerc Another banger Y/n!

LewisHamilton Great job Y/n👏

OscarPiastri Always a great song when it is an Y/n y/l/n song

Maxverstappen1 We do love the song as much as you💜

Carlossainz55 Isn’t that good waste?

User1 OMG SO GOOD!!

User2 SO THIS IS ABOUT LANDO??? I am now a Lando hater!

User3 OMG! There are so many drivers in the grid! I think Lando last almost all his on grid friends!

User4 BANGER

User5 💜💜💜💜💜

User6 THIS SONG IS JSYRBYSCEJSGENAUS

User7 WE LOVE IT💜💜

User8 I love how supportive her friends are (the singers and drivers)

User9 AAAAHHHH

User10 Do we maybe get moreee????

User11 YOU FOUND SOMEONE MORE EXITING

User12 THE NEXT SECOND YOU WHERE GONE

User13 This song really hits hard after a break up

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[baylz]

CHAPTER ONE: sneaking out

main masterlist | now playing: See You Later, I'm Gone by Robert Lester Folsom

present time

Sneaking out through the bathroom window wasn’t uncommon. She had done this on more occasions than she can count whenever things just weren’t going so great. Bad dates, her high school reunion, family gatherings, and now she was currently shimmering through a window to avoid her ex boyfriend and best friend.

It was ungraceful, to say the least. Her dress had gotten ripped in the process and y/n silently prayed that she could fix it later. Trudding back to her car, she stopped dead in her tracks to see that it was getting hooked to the back of a tow truck.

oh, fuck.

“Hey!” She sprinted and attempted to get the attention of the large vehicle. The driver came to a stop and rolled down his window, a cigar in his mouth and looked every bit of uninterested in what she had to say.

“Listen pretty lady, your clown car was parked infront of a fire hydrant.”

“Cl-clown car?” She spuddered, completely taken aback. “It’s a Volkswagen Beetle.”

“Yeah, well you can come pick up your beetle tomorrow at the shop.” Y/n cautiously looked around the dark street and back to the trucker. It was the middle of autumn and she had just become aware of the goosebumps forming on her exposed legs. A gust of wind blew passed her and she shivered from the contact.

“Well—” She took another look at her surroundings. There weren’t many people around this part of the city which was a bad sign. Walking home in an empty area like this she would surely get grabbed or followed. Shooting a helpless look at the man she asks, “How am I suppose to get home?”

“You can’t call nobody?” Oh, right.

She embarrassingly pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. Yamaguchi was a no-go since his car wasn’t working right now and Tsukishima always has his phone on vibrate. Fucking asshole. The only person left was…”Kuroo.” She could feel the life being sucked out of her as her thumb hovered over the call button. The thought of doing the walk of shame back to the party didn’t seem so bad compared to hitching a ride with her pesky boss.

Unfortunately, her prayers were heard because the screen turned black before she even got the chance to call him. She mentally cursed herself.

The trucker grew impatient at this point, putting the vehicle in drive and moving forward. Y/n pleaded with him to at least let her hitch a ride but he stubbornly refused. And then, he was gone.

Y/n was slowly making her way down the sidewalk, ocassionally looking behind her. She wearily watched each car that rolled passed her and made sure to keep a safe distance between her and the street. She continued this for a good minute before she noticed a car slowly trailing behind her. Her pace sped up and the car followed suit. She began to panic now. Y/n didn't know whether to run or act as if she didn't see them. It wasn't until the car began getting closer that she bolted.

The car chased after her. Y/n made beeline for a nearby alleyway, hoping the lose the stalker. She ducked behind a dumpster and waited, heels in each hand, and ready to attack. A car had stopped at that moment and the sound of a car door shutting caused her to be on high alert.

They’re coming.

She listened patiently as the footsteps drew closer. Her grip tightened, hands trembling with fear. 

Tut!

Closer.

Tut!

Closer.

Tut!

NOW!

“Hello, is anyone there—OW!” Y/n stood from her hiding spot and threw her pumps at the perpetrator. He stumbled back, broken glasses falling to the ground. “Fuck, Y/n.” The stranger grumbled in pain.

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” She probed, pointing her other heel at the fallen man. She did her best to be intimidating but the not subtle quiver in her voice betrayed her.

He felt around for his lost frames before staggering to his feet, putting them back to where they belonged and faced her.

He held his hands up in surrender. “It’s me. Keiji.”

"O-oh." Surprised but also relieved, she dropped her shoe and let out a ragged breath. She didn't know how long she had been holding it in. Her legs almost gave out from the adrenaline wearing away, leaving her a shaking mess. Akaashi attempted to reach out and help but Y/n braced herself on the brick wall instead.

Keiji couldn’t do much except collect her scattered shoes from the dirty cement. Akaashi was aware that he had frightened her so he didn’t dare move an inch when he asked, “How about I take you home, hm?”

The car ride was quiet and Y/n stared out the window at the passing buildings. New York was always so much prettier at night. Despite its downsides, the city was just more lively and active once the sun had set. Everyone is constantly on the move and you never feel alone because there was always someone walking right along side you whether they were going to the same destination or not.

Keiji would occassionally glance at the brunette next to him, trying to think of what to say first. I mean, what could he say? How are you? Sorry for scaring you? He didn’t see anything good coming out of those. She wouldn’t even look at him so he wasn’t even sure if she wanted to talk to begin with. Akaashi braced himself, clearing his throat and straightening his back. He didn’t even get a chance to get a word in before you said, “Stop here.”

Akaashi parked infront of a small duplex. “Thanks for the ride and sorry about your glasses.” Y/n unbuckled her seatbelt, not even looking at him once. He searched for what to say as a response, but it was too late because she had already exited the car and was making her way towards the front door. He watched as y/n entered the house and leaned his head back against the seat once she was gone. "dammit."

NEXT CHAPTER

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© BAYLZ 2024 | PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, REPOST MY WORKS ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS TO CLAIM AS YOURS

[lalunanymph]

sucker punch (m) — sae itoshi

in the pivotal moments leading up to the most significant fight of his career against his estranged younger brother, sae meets a girl who turns his entire world upside down

warnings:- underground fighter!sae, fem!reader, heiress!reader, reader is coded to be feminine (wears dresses, makeup, heels, etc), language, cursing, mentions of blood, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, suggestive content, unprotected sex, hate sex, oral sex, rough sex, petnames (princess, whore, slut, daddy's girl), power play between sae and reader, degradation, exhibitionism, sae's repressed emotions™

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ masterlist ࿐ྂ

✯ chapter 2

Aiku was furious when he heard the truth. 

“You slept with her?” he hissed. “With an investor?” 

At 7AM, it was too early to be harassed and lectured by his long time friend. Sae could barely keep his eyes open. 

“Yeah,” he muttered nonchalantly, picking up his cup of coffee and blowing steam off the surface, ignoring a vein popping from Aiku’s forehead. 

“You asshole.” 

Sae never did admit he was a particularly nice or smart guy. “Yeah, yeah. Pile it on me.” 

“You don’t get it, huh?” the other man groaned. “Sae, this isn’t some floozy girl you took back home after a night out. This is L/N Y/N. Her family could buy us out ten times over! You’re messing with the wrong woman.” 

Pausing the cup halfway to his mouth, Sae scrutinised his exasperated friend with a raised brow. When he didn’t say anything else, Oliver let out a heavy breath. The despair in his friend’s mismatched eyes almost made him feel guilty. Almost. 

“Tell me you at least promised to see her again.”

Sae’s silence stretched on. Oliver’s expression crumpled in disbelief. 

“Fuck,” Aiku groaned, like he was in pain. “We’re dead meat.” 

“I will,” Sae insisted, frowning. He set his cup down and fixed his friend with a determined look. “I can still make this right for us.” 

“You better,” Oliver warned, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Or else we can say goodbye to the Ult Match and spend the rest of our lives in petty rings.” 

Despite how apathetic he was on the outside, Sae wasn’t an asshole on the inside. Aiku was an inch away from ripping out his hair, and he wasn’t a sadistic bastard to sit back and watch him do it. Sae would try to make it right with you for his best friend’s sake. 

“Fine. I’ll go to her office tomorrow and apologise.” 

A pair of green and purple eyes fixated on his neutral expression. “Sae… you can’t fuck it up for us.” 

Hard not to when Aiku was constantly harping on him to do better. But, his next words snatched Sae’s snark back before it had a chance to spew out of his mouth. 

“The boys… they believe in you, Itoshi.” 

Sae flickered his teal eyes to catch Aiku’s gaze. For once, his friend and manager was dead serious. “They see you as a way out of this life. Everyone is rooting for you to win. Don’t let them down.” 

A pedestal truly was a lonely place. Sae had never given much thought to how daunting the burden on his shoulders were until Aiku pointed it out through his less-than-poignant warning. The other boys in U20 had their eyes on him. They were waiting for his move; the blueprint to their next actions in this violent world resting upon his unwilling pen. 

Sae never asked for such idolisation or those inexperienced necks craned up towards him. He only wanted to fight. 

“Fine.” A million plans were running through his mind, starting with how he could get an audience with you. “I’ll try to convince her. Though, I am not going to stoop low enough to lead her on. I can’t afford to be distracted.”

Returning to his bastard ways when it came to women, Aiku smirked. “I know you won’t fall for her. Just charm her enough till the purse strings loosen. You’ll succeed. “

His friend’s faith in him restored, Sae stood up, slinging his suit jacket over his rumpled button down. 

“See you later.”

“Sae?” 

He craned his head back to find Aiku struggling with his next words. Eventually, the heterochromatic-eyed man pursed his lips. Sae expected another warning or a threat. Not what Oliver said next. 

“Good luck.” 

Foreboding. Hopeful. Oliver’s hopes and dreams were hinged on this entire meeting. 

A twitch appeared in the corner of his mouth. 

“Thanks. Expect good news later.”

His knee was bouncing rapidly up and down, a nervous tick he had not managed to get rid off since his childhood. 

Against his expectations, you had agreed to another meeting with him, the message relayed back to his stiff figure seated in the waiting room by your bored, matronly personal assistant. He wished he could pinch himself that this was real, but that witch behind the desk would judge him. Sae settled for looking around, drinking in your beige walls and calm lights. 

He wasn’t an artistic person per say, but your expert eye was obvious from the tasteful furniture you laid around this calming office, down to the stack of timeless fashion magazines on the coffee table. Sae thumbed through the thick stack when your assistant called his name, gesturing to your slightly ajar door with a roll of her eyes. 

Aiku’s voice chimed in the back of his head, lending him strength. Do this for the boys. 

Sae stood up, nodding his thanks. He was dressed in a casual sweater and jeans, which in hindsight, was making him sweat like a sinner in church. Sliding his clammy palms down the acid wash denim, he squared his shoulders and pushed your door open further. Your office was designed in the same scheme as the outside decor; elegant beige and wooden furnishings with gold accents. He suddenly felt too shabby standing in the middle of this space.

He hated to admit how his mouth ran dry at the sight of you. You were clad in a simple A-line dress and stockings, heeled foot gently tapping a sprightly rhythm against your desk. The morning sun bounced off your skin, giving it an admirable inner glow. Your ruby red lips were set in a neutral pout and you nodded in greeting when you caught his eye. 

“Hello again.” 

Sae wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, so he stuffed them into his pockets. “Hey. How’re you?” 

You shrugged, and he tried to not eye a loose strand of hair brushing your neck. “I’m fine. Tired, but nothing too bad.” 

He hummed and hawed, unsure of how to break the ice. Just last night, he had you pressed into your own sheets and screaming his name. Apparently, you were recalling the same memories he was. Your face flushed, and you were no longer an unattainable woman; right now, you reminded him of a young girl speaking to her crush in broad daylight. 

“What do you want, Itoshi Sae?” 

A repressed shiver fought to run down his spine. He liked it whenever you said his full name.

“Funding,” he mumbled, not sugar-coating his real intention. The young man took a deep breath, not above begging for your help. “I know we had a rocky start, but I’m doing this for my team and would like to humbly request your backing during the next match.” Balling his hands into fists, he waited for your answer. Sae was never good with words so he hoped his honesty more than made up for his standoffish personality.

Those pretty lips of yours pursed into a deeper pout. 

“Ego-san spoke to me this morning.” 

At the mention of Blue Lock’s infamous coach, Sae struggled to hold back a grimace. Had you already struck a deal with that asshole? He hoped you didn’t—if not he would’ve wasted his time coming over here to convince you. 

“And he shared with me Rin’s stats.” Scrutinising him from head to toe, you blinked. Innocent and curious. “That’s when I realised both of your last names match—Itoshi.” 

Sae’s heart sank slightly. As much as his entire family history was left out in the open for investors to pour over, something about the thought of you being privy to it made him nervous. Like he was about to fail an exam he didn’t study for. 

Your pretty, deep eyes met his, and in them was a world of curiosity. 

“He’s your brother, right?” When he didn’t reply, you pressed on. “And you’re standing before me, asking for money to injure and potentially kill your own younger brother.” 

His mind turned fuzzy, thoughts slowing down. You slid your gaze right to his tensed and closed fists. 

“Why?” 

Sae’s reaction was immediate. He pivoted on his heel and marched right towards the door.

“Wait.” 

A dark, deep anger was unfurling in his chest, but your command that was spoken from a higher power than his own standing made him instinctively pause. Sae’s entire body was rigid, and if anyone were to look closer, they would find his clenched palms trembling. 

He heard the crisp click-clack of your heels on the floor. Felt your hands sliding down his back in an empathetic touch. It took every ounce of his self-control not to turn around and bury himself in your embrace.

“I’m sorry.” Your tone was soft, regretful. “I only wanted to understand where you were coming from. I can give you the funds, but I want you to think this through. No matter what anyone says, a brotherly bond can never be destroyed.”

It was, Sae swallowed hard. It is destroyed beyond repair. But, he didn’t have the courage to put those thoughts into words. 

“I can handle it,” he chose to reply in a gruff, aloof tone. You let your hands fall to your side, at an impasse with the notoriously stubborn prodigy. 

“Okay,” you finally whispered. Sae turned around, and for a split second, you were graced with the rising sun of hope burning through his beautiful teal eyes. It was a breathtaking view, better than any scenic seaside you had seen throughout your life. “I’ll give you the money.” 

Without a caveat or a requirement. You sat back down behind your desk and nodded towards the door. “Ask your manager to send me an email. I’ll make the transfer latest by tomorrow.” 

Sae felt like someone had just punched him right in the noggin. Did this really just happen? His ears were ringing.

You had gone back to scribbling in your notebook, your brow furrowed and attention resolutely not on him. He couldn’t help but to admire the slope of your neck or how your messy bun made you look much younger than you were. 

“Why’re you still standing here?” 

You sounded amused more than hostile. Sae unwittingly took one step forward. 

“I’m sorry for this morning,” the words tumbled free from his loose lips before he could stop them. “If I made anything awkward or I hurt your feelings… I’m sorry.” 

Your forgiveness was given to him in a flash, a grace which he didn’t deserve. 

“We’re fine.” 

Till his dying day, Itoshi Sae would never know what compelled him to reach for your hand or for the next words to spill from his stiff lips. 

“Let me make it up to you. Have dinner with me.” 

Your wide, unblinking eyes spoke volumes of your shock. “Um. O-okay.” 

Gingerly letting your hand go, he bowed his head forward. “Thank you. I’ll pick you up.” 

“I can drive—”

“No,” his earnestness radiated beyond his exclamation, catching himself off guard. “Let me do it. It’s the least I… I can do.” 

Your answering smile was both unsure and sincere. “Okay. I’ll send you my address again.”

Sae returned your grin with a brittle one of his own. Then, he turned on his heel and left your office, feeling lighter than he dared dreamed; filled with a dangerous sort of optimism. 

And in his dark and bloody world, nothing was more lethal than hope.

As much as he liked to pretend that he was unaffected after every meeting with you, Sae could not lie to himself.

The days passed in a haze. One dinner became two, and then he was seeing you for the third time in a week, driving to your apartment where you always greeted him with a smile and a kiss. Sae found he liked how your mouth felt pressed to his own. It was like a sedative he could never get tired off, leaving his lips tingling and heart strangely full. 

Maybe this was how addictions began.

First, it was an innocent need to try it out for the sake of his curiosity. Then, one hit became four, and before he knew it, he was drowning in your magnetic field. You were the sweetest addiction he had ever encountered. Better than cigarettes or alcohol—he actually liked how you tasted on his tongue. 

“Sae,” your airy moan touched his neck. “Mhm… more… please…”

If you were his vice, he was your addiction. 

No one had ever touched you the way Itoshi Sae did. Not like you were a relic or a fragile piece of glass. His rough palms clasped your hips in a bruising grip, tightened around your neck when you begged him to let you cum; giving your cheek a small slap whenever he noticed your eyes rolling too far back into your head.

“Yeah?” he licked his kiss-bitten lips. “Wish your daddy could see his little girl now—how much she’s begging for some low class cock.” 

You preened and gasped, back arching at his taboo words. “Sae… d-don’t be mean…”

He nudged his face into the crook of your neck, adding another mark onto your already decorated throat. “You love it when I’m mean,” he whispered in between sloppy sucks and kisses. “Makes you cum harder.”

Your star-filled eyes strayed down his bruised chest in wonder, your own scratches and mouth leaving the same amount of destruction as his own marks had on your skin. 

He was fucking you nice and deep in your own bed, a pillow wedged under your hips and his fingers laced with yours, bringing them to the side of your head as his hips continued to languidly snap forward. You bit your lower lip, undulating your hips in tandem with his thrusts.

“True,” you laughed breathily. “But, you’ve been—mhm—denying me.”

He had, hadn’t he? Everytime you whispered you were about to cum, Sae switched the pace or the position. Going deeper, going slower. Fucking you shallowly. Slamming his entire cock into you until you could feel his head ramming your cervix. Taking his time to rebuild and orchestrate your climax.

Your hands were released, and they wound up in his hair, pulling him closer. In this position, your hips were tilted high enough for his pubic bone to grind down on your clit. It was also a perfect position to kiss him deeply while he grinded his hips sensually against yours. Doing his best to make you cum this time.

He barely noticed your smaller palm sneaking in between your two bodies until he felt your knuckles graze his hip. Glancing in between your joined sexes, Sae sucked in a sharp breath when his eyes zeroed in on your index and middle finger rubbing your clit. 

“Such a little slut,” he cooed, deep voice sending shockwaves into you. “G’na make me lose my fucking mind.” The last part was whispered under his breath, but you heard him all the same. 

Your giggle was both light and profound. “Yeah? Am I gonna make the big, bad Itoshi Sae fall for me?” 

His cool teal eyes appraised you, leaving no room for his mock displeasure when he circled his hand around your throat, choking you lightly till you gasped and your smile disappeared.

A shark-like grin and teeth flashing like knives lit up the dark room. “Don’t get too far up your head, Princess. This is purely physical for me.” 

Despite getting the upper hand, you would never let him win without a fight. “Good,” you choked out, baring your teeth. “Makes it easier for me to watch you die in the ring.” 

His thrusts sped up, fueled by your hatred. A thick thumb pried your lower lip down, pulling the plush flesh aside to run the calloused tip over your teeth. You sucked on his digit without prompting, earning a hazy flash of satisfaction in his softening teal eyes. 

“Feisty,” he murmured. “At least I know you won’t miss me. I won’t feel bad when I do this—”

With raw, untameable strength, he hoisted you from the bed, carrying you in his arms as your legs locked around his waist.

“Sae!” you squeaked, but he was already moving towards the huge, glass windows. Setting you down back on your feet, his cock slipped out of you with a lewd ‘pop’, stained with your juices. His tall and broad frame crowded you against the cool glass, and you whimpered when he pressed his aching dick to your hip. 

“Suck me in front of the city,” his order reached your heated ears as a silky whisper. “Show the world how much you truly hate me.”

For a split second, he could see a glimmer of surrender in your eyes. Maybe you would beg him to take you back to bed. Maybe you would promise him to be a good girl.

But, whatever your determination was made out of, it was the same as his. You would never back down from a fight. 

Taking him up on his challenge, you slid to your knees, ferociously beautiful eyes devouring his whole body with the intensity of his opponents in the ring. You wanted to kill him; Sae knew that. 

But, instead of driving a deathly fist into his sternum, you chose to wreck him in a different way. 

Uncaring that you were naked and covered in sweat right in front of a set of high windows which anyone from the opposite building could peek into, you glanced up at him, and slowly parted your mouth. Your eyes rippled close at the first taste of yourself on his cock. Sae watched, deceitfully unfazed as you licked up and down the prominent vein on his length, gathering enough spit in between your pursed lips to smear it over his weeping dick. 

The look in your eyes was breathtaking. 

He could physically taste your discomfort, but your ego was feeding off his own. Despite you being naked and on your knees with submission, Sae knew the truth.

It was you who controlled the entirety of this scene.

You held the strings when you raked your nails down his abs, scraping your perfect manicured tips over his balls. It was your hot mouth and tongue he was succumbing to.

His thighs were starting to tremble. Your mouth stretched into a grin, despite his length impeding your devious joy. With one simple push, you had him pressed against the windows, shuffling on your knees slightly so that you were bracing your hands on the cool glass and fucking your throat up and down his cock. 

Sae’s fingers tangled in your hair, roaming down your neck and shoulders. His expression was openly vulnerable, filled with an unravelling surrender which men had whenever they were at the precipice of their pleasure.

It took one flick of your tongue for him to spurt down your throat, thick and hot.

You pried your mouth off his length quick enough for his seed to splatter down your chin and neck. Some of it dribbled onto your heaving chest. Without his prompting, you locked eyes with him, drawing your trembling hands right to your tits and massaging his cum into them.

“Do you believe me now?” you whispered, voice hoarse and scratchy, kneading your tits in a way that had him hypnotised. You leaned forward to kiss his sensitive cock head, even as you spewed venomous words to contradict the tender gesture. “Do you believe how much I hate you?” 

Not as much as he hated you the very second he yanked you off your knees and drove you back to the edge of your bed. Sae’s snarl would be terrifying if he hadn’t followed it up with his mouth on your denied and desperate pussy. Peering down the line of your body, his auburn hair was dyed black by the night’s shadows, its sharp edges tickling your bare thighs. 

You tossed your head back, curling your fingers in his locks. 

The pent-up anger and heartbreak pushed you down the teetering edge of your most painful orgasm. Your clit pulsed against his tongue, your abdomen contracting rapidly as your body expelled a gush of slick which stained his chin and nose. Sae continued to lap through your folds even in the throes of your orgasm. He didn’t care that your legs were shaking or if you were begging for him to slow down. He wanted your surrender to be as agonising as his own.

After the world had stopped spinning, you found yourself in his arms, your face pressed into his chest. Sae was fast asleep, knocked out from the potent oxytocin cocktail.

You stubbornly tried to stay awake for longer, not willing to let the fight go even if there were no winners between your bruised and exhausted bodies.

Eventually, your eyelids must’ve slipped close on their accord, and you nodded off to sleep, curling your hand over Sae’s left pec and nuzzling your nose into his pulse point, comforted by these simple signs of his steadiness and strength. 

“You look like someone mauled you twice over.”

Aiku’s annoying lilt greeted Sae the moment he arrived into their makeshift gym. Setting his bag on the ground, he narrowed his eyes, not in the least bit embarrassed by the marks on his chest and neck.

“Shut the fuck up. It’s too early to deal with you.” 

The heterochromatic-eyed man laughed. “Whoa, slow your roll, you usually leave the swearing for 10AM.” 

Sobering up, his friend took one good look at him. “Were you with her?” 

Sae stiffened. Why should this fucker care? 

“Fuck off. And tell Shidou I’m ready for our training,” he mumbled coldly, completely ignoring Oliver’s innocent question. 

Knowing how stubborn his starfighter could be, the other man sighed. “I’ll get that roach in. Just—” he pursed his lips, eyeing the marks you left around his pecs and nipples. “—you know what… never mind.” 

Sae slipped on his gloves, ready to start the day. His schedule was easy to track: wake up, stretch, meditate, work out, lunch, workout, snacks, workout, tussle with Aiku or Shidou, and then hit the hay. Every wedge of the clock was decided for him to be as productive as he could.

But, he never factored in you. 

Instead of a clear mind and fresh air, he started the day with your arms curled around him and the sight of your sleepy eyes cracking open. Where are you going? Your hoarse voice reached him from where you were swaddled in your blankets.

“Out,” he muttered curtly, unable to turn around and face you. Knowing he would see your crestfallen expression.

When Aiku told him to charm their biggest investor, he never expected to be wrapped up in her body almost every single night. Sae didn’t hate it per say—but it was encroaching a dangerous territory. He was starting to grow comfortable beginning his day with you. 

The sandbag bore the brunt of his displeasure. He worked his muscles down to the ligaments, stopping for five minute water breaks and nothing else. The gym Aiku had rented for U20 was slowly emptying out, other fighters leaving for home or lunch. Even Oliver had packed up and left with a cheery wave, tossing the keys onto the counter and telling him to close up. 

Sae grunted in acknowledgement, returning back to his heavy hits and feigns. He was half an hour into his workout when he realised he wasn’t alone. 

Through the blurry exhaustion, he faintly made out your smile.

“Hey, champ,” you murmured, looking absolutely gorgeous in your tank top and linen shorts. So very different from the business-class woman he was used to. 

Sae blinked, standing up straighter. “Hey. What’re you doing here?” 

Shooting him a smile, you shrugged. “I was driving by the area and decided to survey the U20 gyms… you know, to make sure my investment is sound.” You approached him, and Sae felt something in his chest bump up a notch. Without hesitation, you yanked yourself up the firm ring skirt and into the ring itself. 

You surveyed the space with interest. Before Sae could open his mouth and gruffly tell you to leave, you rooted him to the spot with a sweet smile.

“Can you teach me some moves?” 

This time, Sae was too stumped to refuse you. He nodded, unsure of what power you held over him to make him agree to something stupidly dangerous for his heart. He walked over to you, engulfing you in his heat when he adjusted your stance.

“Part your feet wider.” When you hesitantly did as he ordered, Sae clicked his tongue, and nudged your ankles apart further with the tip of his foot. “Get into a steady base. Keep a neutral spine.” 

He taught you how to throw a hit, and almost smiled when you got it right the first time. Fighting comes naturally to you, he wanted to compliment, but the words were stuck in his throat.

Flushed and eager, you flashed him a smile that had his stomach flipping on itself. “How do you train everyday and not want to eat all the time? I’m starving!” 

Sae pretended to look over his shoulder at a blinking exit light so he could hide his half-smile. Your innocence was infectious. 

He turned back to you with his signature serious look, and said, “Let’s go for lunch, then.” You perked up. 

“Okay,” with a small chirp, you walked to the edge, but Sae beat you to it. He got down the ring, parting the rope and offering you his hand. 

“Some asshole broke his neck when he tripped,” he began to explain, in case you got the wrong idea, judging from your wide-eyed stare. “Don’t want you to end up dead on my watch.”

You fought back a smile, taking his hand. Sae surprised you by grabbing your waist, nudging an arm underneath your thighs to literally sweep you off your feet in a bridal style carry, until you were gently set back down onto the floor.

“Just how strong are you?” you managed to exhale when you got your breath and wits back. The imprint of his touch burned your skin and you swore you felt like your face was about to explode with heat. 

In answer, he flashed you a grin. The first time he had ever fully smiled at someone. 

“Really strong,” he bit on his tongue before he could add ‘princess’. He shouldn’t be calling you a pet name outside of the bedroom; not because it was wrong but because he would slip up and confuse you—confuse himself. 

Killing the voices in his head, he gestured for you to follow him to his car, enticing you with an offer you couldn’t refuse. 

“Ramen? My treat.” 

Boy meets girl, boy falls in love. 

At least, it was close to love as Sae could fathom. 

Without even realising it, his days and nights with you grew longer. The meticulous hours he portioned during his day growing out of whack the longer he spent time with you. Sae used to think he was above petty distractions; that he had a will of steel. 

Little did he know how much it started to creak and crumble whenever you reached out to touch him. 

Yesterday morning, you had found him in your living room, perusing through your stack of paperbacks. When you called out his name, the auburn-haired fighter nearly threw your copy of Before The Coffee Gets Cold under your couch. 

“You’re not very discreet,” you mumbled, coming over to him and pinching his blushing cheek. Sae huffed and withdrew the book from behind his back, scowling at the cover. 

“Why do you have this book?”  

His tone sounded almost accusatory, but, weeks of knowing him made you understand it was his embarrassment hidden behind his gruffness. 

“Because I love it,” you mumbled, and somehow, found yourself sitting on his lap, flipping through the pages and reading out your favourite parts. 

This little sliver of knowledge about your literary tastes gave Sae a burst of courage to invite you back to his own apartment. At first, he was worried it would be too threadbare for you, but you never commented on the lack of furniture or personality. 

“As long as you have a bed and hot water, you’re better than so many others,” you told him bluntly. Sae quietly agreed, his childhood on the streets flashing into his mind.

The pile of romance novels he had saved from the old bookstore down the street was the subject of your intense scrutiny. He thought you could’ve dug up his past through those yellowing pages; unearthed his every insecurity from studying which book was the most weathered and annotated. His fists were clenched at his side, teal eyes rapt on your relaxed figure.

Then, you snapped your eyes back to meet his and smiled so brightly, he almost forgot what he was afraid of. 

“Read this for me,” you gently pushed an old copy of Romeo and Juliet into his hands. Sae glowered, and he opened his mouth, about to refuse you when you stood on your tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “You have a nice voice. Read to me, please?”

For the second time in his short life, Sae found another person bundled in his arms, enjoying the simple delight of reading a book out loud while rain pattered down the grimy windows. 

There was a hollowness appearing in his chest, not from sadness, but an ache he couldn’t quite control. It reared its spiked head whenever you nuzzled his chest or kissed him softly. Demanded for him to devour every goodness in his path whenever he caught you smiling at him fondly.

Sae sensed you were falling in love with him.

And he was helpless to stop you. 

Yet, there was a gaping hole right above that monstrous hollowness. It clashed heads with the beast, demanding for a piece of your attention. Demanding to hold you till you solidified within his grasp. Until he could finally get rid of the knives lodging in his lungs and breathe freely. 

He curled a lock of your hair around his finger, tugging on it gently enough not to wake you up from your nap. You had nodded off to sleep when he was twenty pages into the book, curling into the crook of his arms. 

Sae snapped the crumpled paperback shut, and set it on your thigh. 

Your breathing was steady, lashes casting shadows over your cheeks. He ached to kiss each mark on your face, holding himself back from the monster looming in the back of his mind. 

But, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to press his lips right to your cheek. He pursed his lips in his own awkward rendition of a kiss, leaning back immediately when he felt your breathing stutter. The scent of vanilla and coconut from your skin stung him like a sweet rush of electricity.

I love her. 

Simple and kind. Those words did not strike him with fear, but a sense of realisation. 

Swallowing hard, Sae tried to tame the butterflies exploding in his belly. They fought to escape, ramming past his ribcage with the ferocity of a stampede. 

I love her.

He should’ve been afraid of such a revelation, but all Sae felt in this moment was pure, unadulterated peace. 

Boy falls in love with the girl.

And so, the story begins.

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[dotster001]

Hi! May I request the reaction of the twst boys, if they already have an S/O but they meet their soulmate? What would they choose between, their S/O or their soulmate?

Summary: Ace/Rook/Sebek/Sam/Leona x. Gn! Reader

A/N: this got long, but I had souch fun thinking about this. So feel free to request other boys for me to look at!

3k followers masterlist

Ace knew just as well as anyone that in modern day society, it was common to not end up with your soulmate. Some people never met their soulmate, some people's soulmates were just not a good match, some people seemingly didn't even have a soulmate. It was fine. Nothing to get butt hurt about. 

Ace's soulmate mark on the palm of his hand had never even sparkled, let alone lit up. And he'd found someone that he had fun with. He wasn't sure if it was really love, but that was fine since he couldn't be sure if he was even capable of love.

He probably wasn't. His only other relationship, he'd ghosted them once he got bored. So a fun relationship, with no love, was probably all he deserved.

Until the day the you'd poofed into the mirror chamber, and his soulmate mark had glowed for the first time in his life. He saw you looking around in confusion, and at the time, he had assumed you were looking for him. Later he would realize you were too scared to even notice your mark. He was so god damn selfish.

He quietly slipped a glove on that was supplied with his uniform, and decided to wait and scope you out.

….

You'd both just defeated a monster of some kind, and you, Deuce, and the cat monster were laughing together, but he was just thinking of you.

You. You were too good.

He couldn't do this with you. You'd be hurt at first, but it would be better than knowing your soulmate was a heartless asshole who would leave you when he got bored.

You never had to know. He'd take solace in what he had, and give you your best chance for happiness. 

His string of fate had finally become a natural color. And during the SDC auditions, he'd found it belonged to you. 

He'd told you the truth. That he'd been seeing many people, believing that you were dead, or he'd never been destined to meet you. He was practically pleading with you to forgive him for the crimes he'd committed against you, but you told him you'd done the same thing once you'd realized your string wasn't the correct color.

He fought back a wave of intense jealousy, by kissing you, and telling you he'd break up with the one he'd been dating immediately. Hell, he'd be doing it right this moment, if you hadn't told him it'd be cruel for him to do it over a call.

How could he even care about cruel when you were right in front of him? Ready to help him find his happily ever after! 

Lilia had always told him about soulmates, and how they would change your life. When you saw them, your world would literally expand, the otherworldly "colors" flooding your vision, but all you'd be able to focus on is their eyes.

He'd started at NRC, and Riddle Rosehearts had brought up the fact that a marriage of convenience would help Malleus more than being with his soulmate would. Silver had stepped in, repeating what master Lilia had always repeated. But Rosehearts was one that his lord respected dearly. There was no harm in trying it.

And one date with the rich merchant's kid had turned into two, had turned into three, had turned into a full relationship. For Sebek, the connections were very helpful to his king. For his partner, connections to the fae court, which were normally hard to come by, were completely open to them. 

While Lilia often gave the disappointed dad look,  and Silver wanted no part in the relationship, Sebek saw no reason to end it.

At least until the two of you made eye contact, and he finally got to experience color. 

You were ecstatic! But he was torn… could he give up this boon he had for his master, just for his own happiness.

He told you he needed time. You looked disappointed. Perhaps you had your own Lilia back home who had filled you with beautiful promises. But you told him you understood. Albeit with tears glimmering in the corners of your eyes.

He spent three days straight training. He didn't think to stop, even with the sweat streaming into his eyes, causing them  to burn more than they already were. 

It wasn't until he felt his Lord's calming presence entering his periphery, a steaming mug of hot cocoa, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream floating in it, in his hands.

"It would be foolish to work yourself to death."

Sebek halted his moves, sheathing his sword, and quietly grabbing the mug.

"It is not often you are rendered speechless," Malleus smirked,but Sebek could barely nod.

Malleus sighed. "Humans do not live very long. To have one for your soulmate is a blessing few get to share. You will have centuries to be bound to someone you do not love.Do not lose your chance to hold them while you have them."

Malleus vanished as quickly as he appeared. Sebek stared at his hot cocoa, before running to find you, while he still had the chance.

He was always so cold. No matter where he was, he never could find the warmth of his soulmate. He'd ask his friends every once in a while to see if there was a soul that was destined to truly belong to him. The answer was always no. So he lived in eternal winter.

Those trapped in the cold seek warmth. And he'd found solace in a simple witch. There was no love. The relationship was purely to bring warmth to one another.

Then one day, he felt a moment of relief, as his friends came running for him, all of them speaking over one another. The only word he could consistently catch was , "Soulmate". The worst part was that he was literally in the arms of his little witch.

It wasn't that he didn't want you. He desperately did. Especially when Everytime you walked into the room, the cold numbing his fingertips dissipate, and he'd feel like he was in a warm embrace.

But you never pushed him, because of the conversation he had with you the moment you walked into his shop for the first time.

"I can't."

"Huh?"

"Not yet. I have someone relying on me. I'm their only source of warmth. Can you wait for me?"

You truly were perfect for him, because you never brought it up. And if you were anything like him, you desperately wanted the warmth you would feel if you held him close to you. But you were so patient. Pretending everything was fine, while he searched tirelessly for a soulmate that might not exist, for a potion that would simulate the warmth. 

One day though. He promises that one day, he'll have it figured out. And then both of your patience will have paid off.

no one could ever love him. Which is why he wasn't bothered that no one's name was scrawled on his arm. And why he wasn't bothered when his brother had nervously asked if he'd be opposed to a betrothal to someone from another country. It's not like anyone was waiting for him.

It was a comfortable relationship. They definitely didn't love each other. But at least there was someone who had to at least pretend they cared when you complained about something. Comfortable. That's all he could ask for.

Until he'd felt pain on his arm, and found a name scrawled onto it for the first time. In a sea of new freshmen, he could pretend he didn't notice. He could pretend he didn't see.

And he hadn't run into the person the name belonged to, until you stepped on his tail in the greenhouse.

And after that, you were trying. You were trying so damn hard. It was endearing, and he almost let you in.

But deep down, he knew you'd one day seem him for who he was.

So one day, on edge from you asking him questions about himself, he snapped and told you to stop wasting your time, and get out of his life. Stop lying. No one could ever love him.

You glared at him. You called him a coward. And he growled back at you.

"I don't need you!"

For a moment, you seemed startled. Then you glared at him, and held your head high as you told him you wished him the best but doubted he'd find it.

And as he watched you storm off, a part of him knew you were right.

[littleblackraincloudofcourse]

My thoughts on the lives and deaths of the House of Usher

Prospero - I almost feel sorry for Perry. His ideas weren't bad and unlike his siblings he was doing them himself. I also found it hilarious when he tried to fuck his brother wife. If nothing else that kid had confidence. Fredrick was dick to both of them anyway and she deserved to have fun. If you remove the blackmail and acid rain and that would have been one hell of a party.If Perry hadn't been planning to blackmail everyone he wouldn't have deserved his death. But his death was EXQUISITE. Everything about that scene was so perfect I can't find words to describe it. Everyone involved in creating that scene deserves an award

Camille - We actually got to know very little about her. Her whole story was about finding dirty on the others and managing crisis for the family. Even her death isn't shown. I think the point was that she never got to just be. She lived and died for others but never connected with anyone.

Napoleon - Leo was to me the closest to likable of any of the siblings. He clearly loved them and that may have been the only love he way capable of. He certainly didn't love his boyfriend or anyone he had/was having sex with. He treated people like objects. His death is tricky to categorize. On one side what he did to Pluto was horrifying and anyone who treats animals that way deserves the same fate. But he never actually did any of those things. It was all hallucinations and illusions first from drugs then Verna. He was stressed and grieving and kept finding dead animals everywhere. I would be ready to smash walls in that situation too. He definitely didn't need to be a pet owner but I think his death should have been less torturous

Victorine - I wrote this one last because it was my favorite Poe story growing up and she played it beautifully. That slow steady decent into madness I should have hated this character most of all. Those poor chimps and who knows what other innocent creatures she killed with experiments she knew wouldn't work. Even with her father constantly pushing for progress she should have stopped. Verna gave her so many chances, she wasn't even there when Vic killed her girlfriend or herself. She could have stopped at any point. Yes she still would have died but it could have been painless and less tragic. T'Nia Miller's performance was so good that I actually felt sad for her in that final scene. At least until I thought of the chimps again.

Tamerlane - Knock off Madeleine. Where her sisters hid and guarded their personalities she never had one. Her entire existence was for appearances (hence the ridiculous amount of mirrors). Even when she tries to show emotion she couldn't look at the person she was talking to. Her death might have seemed the most passive but it was shoot beautifully. It was also the only thing she actively accomplished on her own.

Fredrick - Fuck you Frodrick. When his siblings said he was just like their father they didn't even realize how right they were. He might have been worse. His poor wife deserved so much better. I genuinely enjoyed watching the pendulum swinging towards him as he was paralyzed beneath it. I only wish there was more than one so he could feel more pain. He was so much a piece of shit Verna enjoyed killing him. Everyone else got warnings, chances to walk away and have peaceful deaths But this asshole, she knew he didn't deserve one. He got exactly what he deserved. Lying in a puddle of his own piss waiting to die. Seriously fuck that guy

Lenore - This sweet brave girl was the only good the Ushers ever brought into the world. So pure and good even Verna mourned having to take her. I loved that she got to know how much good she put into the world and how many lives she saved. Even knowing from the beginning she would die, it was still heartbreaking to see. At least it was painless and instant

Madeleine - She was cold and selfish but she was also usually right. I respect that even when making a deal with the devil she still had standards. She at least made sure not to have children incase. There is a bit of irony in the fact she didn't want to spend her life serving a man then chaining her destiny to her brother. Gave of serious twincest vibes that I am glad where not explored. Her death seemed a fair balance for her past and mirroring her mother's death brought everything full circle. She fell with the house of Usher. Also sapphire is a good color for her.

Roderick - Without doubt the worst of them all. He knowingly killed millions with his drug. He destroyed any shred of humanity in his children. Possibly worst of all, he knew the damage he was causing and who would have to pay for it but he didn't even blink. Being mentally tortured by his dead children was not enough. He deserved the worst death of all. I understand the poetry of him dying the same way his father did but I wish he suffered more.

[duckapus]

AU where Mr. Puzzles actually manages to kill Mario, Meggy and SMG4 during the fight in the engine room. Of course, because Mario's dead the universe starts falling apart, which was not part of the plan, and when he looks up the Lore and finds out why he finally completely breaks and whatever's left of him gladly welcomes the end, declaring that a world that can't exist without Mario doesn't deserve to exist!

Meanwhile, the rest of the crew out in the park proper are freed from his control (since he's not really even in control of himself anymore) just in time to see the world falling apart around them and SMG3's model start to corrupt. 3 then gets a crazy idea, gathers as much Meme Energy as he can in his current state, mixes in some long-dormant leftover speck of Youtube Remote energy he apparently had buried deep inside him all this time (remember, he ate the damn thing, why wouldn't it have some hind of lasting effect?), then hurls it at the rest of the group.

Somehow, this sends their minds back in time to May 7th 2011, the day "The Cake is a Lie!" was uploaded, with the mission to stop Mr. Puzzles from inadvertently ending the world again. And it also gives them a chance to make other improvements to the timeline along the way. Just a few problems though:

They're dealing with the pre-character-development Total Asshole versions of Mario and the SMGs to start with

Everyone except Luigi has to wait until the show gets out of the "fucking around in Super Mario 64 Mods with text" and starts using G-Mod to actually get directly involved

Saiko's back in her game, though Boopkins was apparently already playing it even back then so she's at least not alone

Tari's... actually not sure where she is. Her memory doesn't extend this far back. Apparently she's in some sort of weird facility? At least Clench is still active.

Melony is a watermelon and has no idea where her mask is

Apparently Inkopolis won't be retroactively inserted into the universe until Splatoon actually comes out in the real world in 2015 so they have to wait about four years for Meggy to even exist

None of them have any idea where Mr. Puzzles was or what he was doing up until that fateful Mar10 Day where he sold 4 the goddamn Demon Keyboard

As you might expect, Bob immediately starts putting his knowledge of the future to use so he can get filthy rich.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Double trouble: fun little au about hot sex and cute spats between König and his younger self

My terrible diseased brain: I wonder how young König felt when he realized his older self has a wife. Did he feel relief? That there is a light at the end of the tunnel, that there is someone who will love him, flaws and scars and all? Did he feel bitter that he doesn’t get that love until he’s older, more tired? Did Colonel König ever think about the fact that his wife would even have loved him as the young, stupid asshole he used to be? Do you think that the recuit and the colonel ever have a quiet moment of just existing next to each other, having a mutual realization that he was worthy of love all along?

Me: good grief

Bucca my sister in crime!! Ily 🩷🩷🩷

I'm sorry that you had to wait so long and on top of everything, all I have for you is angst 😭❤️‍🩹❤️

Young König is surprised (to say the least) when he sees his older self as a married man. He’s stunned to see he’s even alive. He thought he would die before reaching his 30s, in a way he had aspired to be dead before growing too old: that was the goal goddammit.

Who would want to live long enough to see how they turn even more lonely, fucked up and cold?

So his whole worldview is in turmoil now. This is what happens instead? He grows old and happy and gets to marry this hot chick? He gets to be a colonel?? He gets to be loved???

Young König is in love with reader too before even a month has passed, he’s torn between wanting her all to himself and settling for the bone he’s given. Even if he’s a horny menace full of red flags, he adores her. In a way I think he’s the most tragic character in this love triangle/polycule because he seems to be ok with it and has this nonchalant ‘no strings attached’ attitude while clearly, he’s madly in love (and needs therapy).

The attempted mating procedure of young König goes something like this: he sees a hot girl -> he opens his mouth -> she leaves. So now that he is the one who was approached, the dynamic is a bit different. The presence of Colonel means that his bad behaviour flares up like a bad old wound that’s poked. The saddest thing is that the older version has learned to love himself, he loves his wife boundlessly, he even loves his silly young self.

I mean what else can he do but love this beaten dog who’s trying his best and is still a mess?

Colonel’s secret hope is that he could somehow help the young pup to reach destination self-acceptance a little faster through this experiment. But like all of König’s tries to help himself and others, it backfires a bit…

Because young König doesn’t fool himself for one second with daydreams of love. He knows reader doesn’t love him like she loves the Colonel: he’s just a fucktoy in this sick scenario. So no, he isn’t mature enough to co-exist with his older self without bringing good old competition in. Reader can tell him she loves him all she wants, he’s not going to fall for that. Her and Colonel’s love life and marriage only remind him of what he doesn't have, what he can’t get. It’s just scraps for him, like always.

(When will it be his turn???)

[ataraxiaspainting]

Sweet Hibiscus Tea.

Yan Shalnark x F Reader.

Synopsis: After a day of finally trying to face your social anxiety, you walk home alone. The roads are empty, quiet, and eerie. But you are almost home now, aren’t you? You are not going to cry anymore. Just when you think life is starting to turn around for you, it goes in the exact opposite direction. 

Warnings: Yandere themes, violence, kidnapping, misogyny, not SFW implications, psychological horror elements, manipulation, panic attacks, Shalnark being an asshole, unhealthy relationships, and stalking.

Word Count: 5k.

Can be considered to be within the Hier Encore universe.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Look Who’s Inside Again by Bo Burnham

Things She Said by Chris Garneau

Baby Bride Rag by Roar

Butch 4 Butch by Rio Romeo

Appetite of a People-Pleaser by Ghost and Pals

Valentine, Texas by Mitski

I’m Yer Dad by GRLwood

Cry Baby by Melanie Martinez

Freaks by Surf Curse

Neighbour by Mother Mother

“You stay soft, you get beaten; only natural to harden up.” — Mitski, Stay Soft

*~*~*~*

Regardless of how much time has passed, this convenience store always remains the same.

There is always the familiar, tired face of the clerk behind the cash register, her gaze never on you or any other customer who walks in and out of the doors, a simple, muted hello being the only proof that she noticed you.

The lights dim and blink without fail, fading from white to a shade of daffodil to dark flaxen before disappearing and resurfacing yet again as alabaster. No matter how black the night sky is, the less-than-bright illumination never changes.

Neither does the rest of the scenery.

Next to the payment area are two vending machines, with one not functioning. It is dead, with the glass broken by a punch that left a large gaping hole in the dead center. Once when you accidentally touched the front wall while bending down to get your can of lemonade from the working one, it left a sticky residue that had you rubbing your palm on your sweater for what felt like an eternity. It somewhat helped, you guessed, but it also stained your clothes. The vending machine to its right was always out of most sweet drinks, often leaving you with the choice of coffee, lemonade, green tea, or water.

You don’t buy any snacks aside from strawberry Pocky and, if you are lucky, a chocolate bar.

But you do buy meals here because it is cheap. Usually fish with miso or a salad, but there have been times when you can find a premade sandwich.

The total cost comes to between 500 to 1000 Jenny. There is always a poster that claims the cashier is the employee of the month, though you are certain that she is the only one who works there.

The only thing that ever changes is the calendar behind her. The past dates are crossed out in red ink that is in the form of thick, scraggly lines. They remind you of the drawings you used to make as a child when your father was too busy screaming outside your door and your mother was too powerless to do anything but cry and yelp as he hit her. One time you drew them fighting, and when one of your maids saw it, it inevitably found its way to his desk.

Needless to say, he was not happy by any means.

*~*~*~*

The calendar behind the worker reads the 17th of April, 1998. On this day in 1985, your first and only ever friend, the head gardener’s apprentice, went missing. When you eventually gathered up the courage after waiting for hours outside, you went to your father’s room to ask where she was.

“She has been removed from the premises for distracting you instead of doing her job.” The answer you got was to the point, because when has he ever been warm to you? “I made sure that she had learned her lesson before she died. She was in pain the whole time. It was a shame to put a bullet between her pretty eyes. But at least she had a bit more use to me beforehand.”

You cried and cried until you threw up.

That is when your mother, the usual bandage over her left cheek this time, came in and sat on your bed gently, sadly.

She patted the area next to her and slowly you stood up from the floor where you kneeled as you sobbed and went over. She asked you if you wanted a hug and you said no. She responded with a simple nod, respecting your answer. But then what she said next turned your tear-stricken face into a glare.

“She’s alive.” She muttered, along with thanks to God and a hold of the cross on her neck. 

“...What?”

Your mother shushed you when she heard footsteps coming to the door. When the sound eventually leaves further into the hallway, she leans into your ear while pointing to your vanity. Your gaze leads you to the dusty cat statue made of garnet.

It got shattered a little while ago when a maid cleaning your room accidentally made it fall to the floor. You felt bad for her as she was a new hire, so you never told anyone aside from your mother. You knew that if your father, the head of this household, ever found out he would punish her severely, even when he did not care for the statue at all. You got to choose, if you were lucky, which part gets whipped or cut off.

“Yes.”

Her short answer leaves you almost jumping up out of your seat. “...Huh?”

“At last week’s banquet, she caught the attention of your father’s wealthiest business partner.” She turns to the curtains covering the lone window in your room, her back now facing you. “She was tricked into boarding a car when the driver claimed you were inside waiting for her. To the partner in question, she is nothing but another pretty face to add to his collection.”

At the slight turn of the doorknob next door, you two go as still as wax people in a museum. “Why did he lie to me?”

“Why? Well, he certainly did not want you rebelling against his decision.”

“But I have never rebelled against him before.”

“I know.” Your mother lets out a sharp laugh, salty and sour. “I know you are always trying to be good, trying to stay under the radar. I know, I know because you are a lot like me. but now I am going to teach you a lesson about your father and the world at large. Remember that a man’s resentful attitude will always result in a woman’s agony, physical or otherwise, always. However, when things go right for a man, a woman is either praised like a dog or ignored until something goes wrong because it is never enough.”

You can’t breathe. “But why? Why, why, why? What did I do wrong? What could I have done right?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing. There is nothing you can do or could have done. No matter what, your faults will always be found. That is how most men are raised, to find, and how most women are raised, to hide.”

“...”

“Men’s hearts are such cruel, small things. Oftentimes they can only fit themselves in them, but there have been times where even they cannot fit.” She is still holding onto the cross charm on her gold necklace, firmer than she has ever held you. “They are cold, are or are almost dead. There is no room for people like you and me. No room at all. All they see us as is something to own, something with no feelings whatsoever, and whose only purpose is to please no matter the cost. Such pigs, all of them.” She murmurs some prayers that you cannot hear. “I want you to be better. I want what is best for you, what I never have been able to accomplish; run and live.”

She opens the drawer beside your bed, and you don’t do anything to stop her. It is not like you can hide anything, from her or anyone else in this house. Whatever is buried eventually resurfaces. She pulls out your rarely used bible, a thick layer of dust on the leather cover. It smells and makes you cough. She doesn’t though.

“At least your father does not force you to read this day and night.”

“Mmhmm.”

“It is one of the few things I appreciate him not doing, I do not want you to grow up hating the church.”

“I know.”

“He has made you hate a lot of things already.”

She turns the pages, dust flying around the cold air.

“He made me hate a lot of things too. Blankets, steaks, cameras. The color white, the color black, the color red. The sounds of belts unbuckling, the sound of laughter, the sounds of doors opening and closing and locking.”

You don’t say anything, only looking at her hands. Only in the dark can you not see her scars, her blooming wrinkles, and the bruises that are always fresh. 

You don’t say anything, because you have learned from a very young age that you are her only listening ear. You are the only one who keeps her head on her shoulders. You don’t say anything, because she is right. He has made you hate plenty of things. But, but, but. But you can’t hate him, and you can’t hate your mother.

You can’t hate her, because who knows what she would do when she finds out that no one cares about her pain in this hell?

“Mother.” You mutter, putting your head on her shoulder as you scan the text on the page that she selected. She does not stop you. 

“Yes, [First]?”

“Do you hate me?” You ask, trying so very hard to not let her see the tears that threaten to come out of your eyes. “Because… because… if I wasn’t conceived, you wouldn’t be here hurting, would you?”

You could swear that you heard her heart skip a beat.

“...I would not be here, yes.”

She is honest, for once. You know at least some of this situation is all your fault.

“Do you hate me?”

“...”

“Mother, please answer me.”

You hear a sniffle as she starts mumbling the words written. “‘A gracious woman gets honor, and violent men get riches.’”

You choose not to press on the subject. You don’t want her to suffer anymore.

*~*~*~*

You buy an orange-flavored Ramune soda, a pack of pork ginger instant ramen, and strawberry Pocky.

The total would come to about 600 Jenny if your quick calculations are right. You could get something extra, like a topping for your ramen or some chips. But would it be wise? You have never been someone who finishes their plate after you had ran away, so what if you just waste your money?

So, you decide not to get anything else.

You walk to the cash register.

You hear an explosion from the back of the building. Small sparks of white and orange. The lights go off before you can place your chosen items down, and you can hear the employee cursing under her breath. The breaker. What happened?

“Damn it, I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” She grumbles, putting her thumb and pointer finger on the bridge of her nose, rubbing. “No raises whatsoever. Only one here. Without me, this place wouldn’t be working, ungrateful pricks.”

Fighting the way your heart rate shoots up, you decide that talking to her would be best. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to someone aside from your boss, right? 

Maybe your anxieties would quell, and you can eventually graduate to talking to your co-workers, that would be a dream come true for you.

You haven’t had a friend, a real friend, ever since Rose was taken from you all those years ago. You still cry whenever you think about her. You miss her. Is she dead, is she alive?

You still blame yourself. If only you hadn’t talked to her, maybe she would still be with you. What kind of adult would she have been? A kind one, a responsible one? You would still be friends at least, wouldn’t you? Or would she grow to hate you, if she didn’t already?

You keep telling yourself that she wouldn’t and didn’t, but that is not what your mind tells you.

Is she dead?

You could picture a rotting corpse six feet under. An unmarked grave. Glassy, dead, amber eyes looking upward to anyone who looks down, helpless, pleading. You always liked them, always complimenting them much to Rose’s shy chuckles. She was so pretty, that much was true. You could only imagine how beautiful she would have been as an adult.

Her looks were a personal gift from God, the heavens, and the angels.

But if she didn’t have them, would she not have been treated like she was in the estate?

“Erm, excuse me,” You mutter, taking a few steps forward. “If you want I can go check it out.”

It is what Rose would do. She always liked helping others. You just wish that people would have appreciated it more and seen past her appearance. It was a double-edged sword. It helped her become the head gardener’s apprentice but also caught the attention of both your father and his business partners. You felt bad for her, and still do.

The employee turns around, her confusion prominent despite the dark. 

“Erm,” You mutter, looking down at your hands and entangling your fingers in one another. You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment. “Is that okay?”

It takes a few moments to respond. Her surprise was unexpected, as you never spoke to her outside of asking her if she had change or telling her you hoped that she had a good night. Rose would be better at this kind of thing. You once had a dream that at a fast food joint, an adult her would order for you and correct the staff when they put pickles on your burger. It’s what could have been, funny moments like that. She had always been the one to take charge, you following her like a lost puppy.

You miss her so much.

So much.

The worker slowly nods. “...Okay.”

“...It’s in the back, right? The breaker.”

This is so awkward. Rose would be better. You wish she was here. Or your mother. Anyone.

“...Uh. Um… I like your eyeliner.” As soon as you say that, you curse at yourself, not wanting to sound like a creep. The woman’s confusion becomes even more prominent.

“...Thanks, and yeah, it’s in the back.”

“...Okay.” Jesus Christ. You turn away from her, the heat on your cheeks hot enough to be mistaken for a fever. This is not what Rose would have done.

“...You can leave your stuff here.” She says, and you quickly spin your heel and put your items on the counter. “It’s not like they are going to grow legs and run off, so relax.”

“...” You both chuckle, and you feel slightly better. “...Thanks. I’ll go now.”

“...” You start walking. “Wrong way.”

You stop.

It takes you a few seconds for you to move back to first base and go off in the opposite direction. As soon as you open the creaky steel door, strong rain and cold wind greet you, along with a loud clap of thunder and lightning.

Perhaps you could go back and get your umbrella from the stand by the door. But that would be even more awkward.

“Stupid. Stupid.”

“If we are lucky, the wind simply detached it or something. Not the best at this sort of thing, though.”

“I don’t think breakers detach.” You could picture her shrugging and scoffing at your murmur. “Sorry. Sorry. Just… sorry. I’m the best at this sort of thing either.”

You close the door behind you and start looking amongst the pitter-patter of the raindrops and gusts that nearly make you fall over. 

Stupid. Why do you make everything so weird? Rose would have been so much more charismatic. It was one of her strongest traits after all.

Stupid.

It’s hard to see. Trying not to trip over stones and cracked cement, you grip onto the wall and walk forward. Soon, you feel something.

“Ew, ew, ew!” You cry out, quickly moving your hand away from the slimy slug. “Ew!”

“You okay?”

“Uh, nothing. Just a bug. Yeah, just a bug.”

You hear a chuckle. Stupid.

“Sorry!” You exclaim, almost bowing your head. “Sorry! Really!”

Making sure you don’t touch the slug again, you keep moving.

Eventually, you find the breaker. But it wasn’t what you were expecting by any means. The damage almost looks like it was done on purpose, the way it was open and covered in soot. Did something get to it?

The breaker that exploded was a mass of melted metal that had been blown apart from the intense amount of heat and pressure. It was now barely recognizable as a single unit–parts of it scattered across the cement path and others having been fused and becoming something else entirely. The metal had been melted and blown upwards in the sheer force of the explosion, coating parts of the wall, wet grass, and roof with small, solidified droplets of metal. The ground around the remains of the breaker is burnt and scarred with traces of the immense fire that had consumed it.

It seems the rain put it out.

“No hope for this, huh?”

“Hey,” The employee calls out. “How bad is it? If there is nothing you can do, come back inside.”

So, you do.

The way she turns at you is robotic almost. A smile is on her face that was not there before. She nods when she sees you. Something tells you to not approach.

“It exploded into molten metal.”

“Oh well.”

Under the stormy skies, her gaze turns pale. Her eyes, seemingly captivating, lack any hint of vitality, while her lips curve in a disarming and saccharine manner. A shiver runs down your spine as you meet her gaze, every fiber of your being urging you to flee. Deep within your primal instincts, an innate awareness stirs, recognizing the smile as a charade, a mask of humanity that ventures into the realm of unease: akin to an artificial being adorned with synthetic flesh or a wax figure encased in glass. Those lifeless, white eyes, coupled with a forked tongue and an unsettlingly beautiful countenance, leave you with an undeniable sense of mistrust.

“You’re not mad? Really? Um…”

Something is off. What happened? She looks more like an imposter than anything else. But if she is, where did the real cashier go?

“Don’t worry.” She says, her voice oddly chipper and no longer confused by your awkwardness. “It’s fine. I’m quitting anyway, so it’ll be my boss’ problem.”

You turn your head. “Really?”

She nods. Something is off.

“Like really?”

You blink multiple times and you don’t think she does. She just stands there. Slowly, she nods. Something tells you to run yet again.

“Um… um… okay. Okay. I’ll just pay and leave. How much does it come up to?”

She shakes her head.

“Um. I have to pay. It’s thievery if I don’t.” You get closer. “It’s the law.”

“It’s fine.”

“I can’t just not pay.” You say, taking out your wallet from your sweater pocket. “That’s stealing. It’s wrong.”

Every action she takes is measured and precise, and she seems to move like a machine rather than a person. It’s as if she’s been programmed to act and talk in a certain way, and she doesn’t seem to have the ability to break out of that. She simply stares at you, not speaking.

Run.

You undo the metallic button, hearing the shuffling of paper Jenny within your wallet. “Um. Let me pay. Please.”

She simply shakes her head again.

“It’s fine.” The employee says, the smile still plastered on her face. There is quite more than a hint of blankness and detachment in her expression. She speaks in a mechanical and emotionless manner, her words delivered as though repeated from a script of carefully chosen sentences. Her movements are quick and precise, putting your chosen items in a plastic bag. There is no life or energy in her actions, instead, she moves like a mindless machine, performing her tasks before her without showing any personality of her own. Is it better to just accept it?

What should you do? What shouldn’t you do? Is she joking? Should you leave?

What would Rose do?

One of her hands grasps onto the plastic handles and she holds it out before you. There is no authenticity or warmth. Her eyes are blank. What happened? Should you ask? Should you just take the bag without saying anything further?

“Okay,” You murmur, obeying her silent command. “I hope you don’t get into any trouble though.”

*~*~*~*

Boss (9th May 1996 17:45)

Did you find anything?

Boss (9th May 1996 17:45)

Feitan found her heels nearby along with some blood, so she couldn’t have gotten very far.

You (9th May 1996 17:45)

Nothing yet

Boss (9th May 1996 17:47)

Try checking the stores nearby.

Boss (9th May 1996 17:47)

From the blood trail, she is most likely injured from running and trying to fix herself up in some sort of shelter.

Boss (9th May 1996 17:48)

She may have also discarded the rest of her clothes, not just the heels, and is currently wearing something else.

You (9th May 1996 18:15)

I found a dress and jewelry at the bottom of a lake

You (9th May 1996 18:18)

(image sent)

Boss (9th May 1996 18:20)

That’s it.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:20)

Disappointing. I’ll send over Pakunoda to ask people nearby.

You (9th May 1996 18:20)

K

You (9th May 1996 18:21)

Don’t cry, I’m sure we’ll find her soon :) 

Boss (9th May 1996 18:22)

I wasn’t crying.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:22)

I just thought she came around already.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:23)

This will set our heists back weeks.

Boss (9th May 1996 18:24)

She has planned this out for more than a year, it seems.

*~*~*~*

Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. You can’t hear anything else. The sounds sting your ears like an aggravated hornet. 

The darkness around you is solid, more so than the cracked, aged concrete path beneath your shoes. There is a tiny light in the distance; a streetlamp.

Silence.

“...”

“Have a good day!”

“...Thank you.”

Let there be light.

“Um…” You can’t see anything. The sounds… stopped. “...Time to go home.”

But the pain stays. 

It feels like a drill. 

It hurts.

“...” You feel deaf and blind. No, maybe something even worse. “...”

You turn around, to the dark convenience store, and you see the cashier still staring at you. “Have a good day!”

“...”

“[First]?”

…How does she know your name? Did you say it to her in the past?

When you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you.

“[First], dear.” She starts waving as you look at her. “[First]. [First]. [First]. [First]. [First]!”

There is nothing but emptiness. Is your name all she can say? What happened to her? It is like she has regressed. Like a storm cloud in summer, you do not wish for this pain. Now you feel deaf and blind and mute now. 

You almost wish that you were dead. All there is is pain. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

Interruption. The sounds returned. Is this good? Is this bad? Does it matter at all? 

You walk. You don’t speak. Only walk. You can’t breathe. You can only move. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. 

Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

A hand clamps over your mouth.

You drop the plastic bag from shock, and then you finally hear something other than those sounds; glass shattering.

“Sh…” A voice, calm, along with the smell of oranges. “It’s okay.”

“...!”

“Don’t scream.”

The touch of lips, a man’s lips, on your ear, thin and hard. 

“Breathe. Just breathe for me, okay?”

But you can’t. The wind goes down your throat. It is suffocating. You can’t breathe. You smell oranges and something rotting, blood.

It stinks. It fucking stinks.

Christ. Get away. That stink. That fucking stink. Your body rejects it by continuing to not breathe.

“Sh… Breathe. Just breathe, for me, for you, for us.”

“...St… Sto-”

“Sh…” The voice is sweet, not at all sour, like candy. “Calm down. Nothing bad is going to happen. Just breathe. You’re going to pass out.” The lips and the scent of his breath are like salted leather in a butcher’s shop, stinky and rotting. “Calm down. Don’t worry.”

“...Sto… Si-”

“Breathe. Sh… It’s okay. Breathe.”

“...Ge… Sti…”

“Sh… Breathe. Breathe, [First]. Breathe. [First]. Breathe. Breathe. It’s okay. Don’t worry about all this. Breathe.”

When you finally do, you gasp, desperate. “...Huff… Huff… Huff…”

Get off of me, I can smell you. 

“There we go!”

Your vision clears up a bit. “...Huff… Huff… Huff…”

“Just keep breathing.”

“...Huff…”

You can smell him. You can practically taste him, with his mouth so close to you.

“Whew! That was a close one!” The man exclaimed, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

Pain. Get off of me. I can smell you, I can hear you, I can taste you. Get off of me. Please.

The pain still stays, in your chest and your ears, and your head. Oranges. Blood.

Get off of me.

Please–

A pain in the back of your neck and you go limp.

Darkness. Then pain again. You can’t move. You can only breathe. Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

*~*~*~*

SAINTSHORE SPACE THEATRE

UNDER THE DIRECTION OF RANDOLF URASLEF, GRETEL JAMES, AND QUINCEY J. ORATICE

PAUL DONSHEL CELESTE BAKER   ANNE CROAKS

AND

THE GREAT COMET THEATRE COMPANY

SWAN LAKE

ADAPTED BY MUSIC WRITTEN BY PYOTR ILLYICH TCHAIKOVSKY

INSPIRED BY THE CHOREOGRAPHY OF JULIUS REISINGER

WITH THE WONDERFUL CAST OF

(IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE)

Odette, the White Swan………………………………………………………….JEAN YVETTE

Odile, the Black Swan……………………………………………………………...JUNO LILOU

Prince Siegfried……………………………………………………………(the name is illegible.)

The rest of the list’s names cannot be read just like Prince Siegfried.

“She is simply beautiful. Just so beautiful. Simply wonderful, perfect.”

As the spotlights ignite, their scorching beams engulf you, causing you to shield your eyes with futile resistance. The sheer force of the light overwhelms your feeble defense. An ethereal audience erupts with exuberant cheers, applause, and whistles, resonating from vacant seats. Champagne flutes collide, men erupt with hearty laughter from their very core, and women unleash piercing screams akin to banshees.

The temperature rises and the noise intensifies, repeatedly, enveloping you in a symphony of overwhelming sensations.

Onlookers casually share their thoughts.

“Get off the stage, we want to see the play, not some stagehand!”

“Boo!”

“Fuck off!”

You run off crying.

“Where is that Odile girl?”

You run into a dressing room. One used by a woman wearing a black dress. She is so pretty. Her long strawberry blonde hair falls off her bare shoulders, clearly just done with a flat iron. There is a burning smell in the air. Smoke. When her gold eyes meet yours, she marches towards you and slams the door shut.

You can almost hear sobbing coming from the other side. Cries.

“So lonely…” The woman mutters. “When will it ever be enough?”

The voice sounds familiar. Her eyes. Her hair.

Nostalgia. Memories you would much rather forget. The basement. The imaginary ripping of clothes and tears and men’s laughter.

“I can’t do this much longer…”

Someone else knocks on her door. You want to scream.

“Come out, dearest.”

The devil. Tall with curved horns and a forked tongue. You want to warn her. 

You want to save her. “I’m not going to harm you, I am going to make you happy.”

You are so focused on whether the woman opens the door or not that you do not notice what happens next until it is too late. A clawed hand on your mouth. A tongue licking your ear. Tasting your sweat. Your tears. Laughter. The rest of the world disappears, and the only one there aside from you is the one behind you.

Sh… Sh… Sh… Sh… Bum, bum, bum. Dun, dun, dun. Whunnnnnn, wooooooo, ummmmmmm. 

Get off of me. Please.

“Breathe. It makes things more fun for me.” The voice echoed like you two are in a cave.

You gasp for air, and the smell of blood and oranges fills your nostrils.

“...Huff…”

“That’s better.”

You turn around. There is a body of a man. 

But the scaled, furred, horrifying face of a demon.

“Good.” He says, smiling his sharp teeth. “Deep breaths, in and out, come on.”

You do what he says. He praises you again, you think. But you can’t hear it. Either that or you simply do not pay attention to it. What happened to the woman? 

“...”

“We should go.”

The woman. The devil, this other… thing.

“...Rose…”

The demon laughs.

“Wake up.”

*~*~*~*

The first things you hear come from a happy man’s voice. “My boss’ girlfriend ran away more than a year ago you see, and he’s been heartbroken ever since. I want to prevent that kind of loss from happening to me. Real pretty one, too! He didn’t expect it, but I don’t blame her. After all, she’s been held captive for more than a year, she had to try to escape eventually.”

…The first thing you feel is lace on your neck. A collar.

It does not tickle or hurt. It itches. 

A cold hand plays with it, and it almost chokes you. At your discomfort, the man laughs.

“You are so cute.”

Something metal is on the collar, and it blinks a small red light.

[berenwrites]

Always and Forever - Stranger Things - Steddie - G

Rating: G | cw: none | tags: fluff, very light angst, Corroded Coffin, rockstars, touring

Prompt: Love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy (@forgottenkanji)

A/N: Written for @steddielovemonth day 29. Sorry I disappeared from this challenge halfway through. We lost one of our kitties (she was 14 ½) and I just kind of lost the impetus, but I figured I had to write something for the last day at least. No beta today because it was a last minute thing.

Also on AO3 soon | All My Other Stranger Things Fic

Always and Forever: Love Finds a Way

Steve stared at the phone for a long time after he put it down with the usual ‘I love you’. He spoke to Eddie every day after he got home and before Eddie was due on stage with the rest of Corroded Coffin. The three-month tour was nearly over, and it had done so much for the band’s popularity. Usually, Eddie sounded excited on the phone, even though he professed to miss Steve as much as Steve missed him.

Tonight, hadn’t been like that.

All Steve had been able to hear was the strain in Eddie’s voice. Oh, Eddie had tried to cover it with his usual exuberance, but Steve knew his boyfriend far too well. Something was wrong.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he picked up the phone again. He rang through to the band’s hotel, but this time he asked for a different room number.

“Hello,” came the rather disgruntled answer after a couple of rings.

“Gareth, what’s wrong with Eddie?” Steve asked without beating around the bus.

“Steve?” Gareth asked, although Steve was pretty sure it was just a stall.

“Gareth,” Steve said in a tone that usually had the not-kids-anymore kids jumping to do whatever he was telling them to.

There was a sigh from the other end.

“He’s having nightmares again,” Gareth finally said after a few moments silence.

“What? Why?” Steve asked.

“There was an incident at one of the venues,” Gareth revealed. “Nothing major, just some fans managed to get backstage and thought it would be hilarious to try and scare the big bad metal band. They had these demon masks and party poppers and hid in the green room. Security got rid of them, but it spooked all of us a bit.”

“If I ever get my hands on those assholes, I will fucking kill them,” Steve growled out, mind jumping to the nail bat he still kept under the bed.

The Upside Down was closed off, there hadn’t been any trouble for three years, but he could never quite shake the need to have a weapon to hand. He could only imagine what it was like for Eddie on tour in strange places. After all, Eddie had nearly died.

“They were just stupid kids,” Gareth did his best to sound soothing, but Steve was pretty sure they were actually in agreement.

“Why didn’t he mention it to me?” Steve asked.

“Probably because he didn’t want to worry you,” Gareth replied. “We’ll make sure he’s okay, Steve,” Gareth promised. “We love him too.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Thanks. Don’t tell him I called, okay? He’ll only worry about me worrying.”

“No problem,” Gareth replied. “Sorry, I have to go, the van’s waiting downstairs.”

“Knock ‘em dead,” Steve replied, “and thanks again.”

“See you in a couple of weeks,” Gareth said, and the line clicked off.

Putting the receiver back in the cradle, Steve stared at the phone for a little while longer. It was as he picked it up for the third time, he realised he had made the decision before he had even put it down the first time.

He didn’t stop moving until he was in sitting on the plane. He’d let Robin and Dustin know he was going and asked them to pass on the information. Robin had told him to ‘go get his man’. He’d packed a bag and called a taxi to the airport, barely pausing to make sure he had anything but his wallet. Luckily the girl on the ticket desk had taken pity on him and found him a not completely terrible flight across the country. Staring out the window, all he could think about was Eddie.

By the time he reached the hotel it was the early hours of the morning. He didn’t need to ask reception because he already knew the room number, so he headed straight up. When he stepped out on the right floor a guy in a black suit lurking in the shadows gave him a look. Apparently, someone was taking security seriously now. Corroded Coffin was what some publications liked to call an over-night sensation, even though they had been working hard for several years that didn’t seem to count. You couldn’t turn on a rock station without them coming up. They deserved to be looked after.

Also apparently, someone had briefed the security guy well, because he glared at Steve for a few moments and then appeared to relax. How security knew what he looked like he decided not to ask.

Walking quickly along the hall he got to Eddie’s door. The first thing he noticed was the sound of an acoustic guitar. Not really a surprise after what Gareth had told him. When Eddie couldn’t sleep, he always retreated to his music.

Lifting his hand, Steve knocked.

The guitar playing stopped.

Steve knocked again when no one answered the door.

A second later, the door was yanked inwards, and Eddie was staring at him as if he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“Steve,” Eddie said, eyes big and round.

“Hi,” he replied and gave Eddie a little wave.

“Am I dreaming?” Eddie asked and sounded just a little afraid Steve wasn’t real.

“Nope,” he said, reaching out and touching the side of Eddie’s face.

Eddie almost clocked himself on the side of the head with his guitar, clearly forgetting he was holding it as he tried to cover Steve’s hand with his own. At which point, Steve took the guitar and gently shepherded Eddie back into the room. Once the door was closed, he put the guitar down, dropped his own bag and crowded into Eddie’s personal space.

“Missed you,” he said, taking Eddie’s face in his hands.

The were dark circles under Eddie’s eyes and his skin was pale, but he was just a beautiful to Steve as always.

“Missed you too,” Eddie replied, a tiny smile quirking his lips as he drank Steve in with his eyes. “How?”

“Need you to be happy, Eds,” he said, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. “That’s all that matters.”

“But…”

“No buts,” he interrupted. “Need to hold you and chase the nightmares away.”

“Who told you?” Eddie asked, but there was no heat to his tone even as he wound his arms around Steve.

“Twisted Gareth’s arm,” Steve confessed, wrapping Eddie in a tight embrace. “Knew something was wrong on the phone earlier.”

“Not as good an actor as I think I am, huh?” Eddie said into his shirt.

“Only to me,” Steve assured him, “and well probably Wayne.”

That startled a laugh out of Eddie, but he didn’t move from his position in Steve’s arms.

“God I love you,” Eddie said.

“Me too,” Steve replied, “always and forever.”

When Eddie had gone off on tour it had seemed like such a big thing, the first reality of the rockstar lifestyle. Steve had worried it would pull them apart, but what he’d realised during the earlier phone call, was it was all irrelevant. All the mattered to him was Eddie. Everything else was just details to be worked out.

He didn’t have a plan. Hadn’t had more than the sure and certain knowledge he needed to get to Eddie. He would work out what to do next when he woke up in the morning with Eddie in his arms. That was the important part.

All My Other Stranger Things Fic