#Old blood fest

[amymor-theend]

My posters made for the annual metal festival Old blood fest🤘The organizer of this festival is the DIG ME NO GRAVE

[hannieween]

hell bent | yoon jeonghan

› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader › aus: demon hunter jeonghan, supernatural au, demon reader › genres: angst, fluff, smut (18+) › word count: 12.7k

› 🎧: this man – jxw

› special thanks to @gyuswhore who helped me proofreading this 🩵

› this is part 4 of the curse - hannieween fest

› warnings after the cut! READ THEM CAREFULLY 🗣️

› warnings: hurt/comfort! major character death scene (it's not described in great detail), resurrection, grief, injury, blood, alcohol consumption, smut with plot, sex dreams, unprotected p in v, creampie and pull-out method, corruption kink, exhibitionism, love making, jeonghan is down bad, breeding kink, oral sex, pussy drunk jeonghan, buff jeonghan. pet names: baby (hers)

› disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂

hell bent

JEONGHAN SAT ON THE GROUND FOR WHAT FELT LIKE AN ETERNITY. He stared at the horizon until the darkness dissolved and the sun rose. The weight in his arms increased as the seconds went by until he grew numb and cold in the morning mist.

He blinked when the sunlight started to hurt his eyes. His throat was sore and dry from screaming, and his fists were bloody. But that did not matter. All that mattered was gone. He looked down where you lay motionless in his arms. Cold and bloody.

Hours had dragged on, and the time to move was drawing near. But he feared that if he moved, reality would set in. He cupped your cheek, kissing your forehead before pressing his own on yours, and waited. He waited for you to open your eyes, to feel your take in a breath.

It was over.

He got up, carrying your limp body in his arms. Once on his feet, the weight of your body caused a deep blow to his chest.

You laid on the backseat of his car as he drove aimlessly until he found a place deserted enough to hide. A place to bury your body.

The hole he dug in the ground was surrounded by trees, small patches of grass that grew small flowers attracting butterflies in, and in the distance, he could hear the chirping of birds. You looked peacefully asleep once he laid you there.

It was over. The torture was over. The pain, the suffering, all of that. And for a small moment, he thought you were smiling.

When Jeonghan stumbled upon the headquarters, he did not even bother knocking, because they saw his car parked on the driveway of the old manor.

Seungcheol opened the door, a bewildered look on his face, mouth parted, brows drawn inward. “What happened to you?” he asked, stepping aside to let Jeonghan in.

Jeonghan hugged his arm to his body. “Is Joshua here?” he asked instead, hurrying to the hospital wing of the manor.

“What’s happening?” Joshua raised his head, standing up from the desk pushed to the far end of the long room. His gaze fell on Jeonghan and got to work in an instant. “Sit,” he motioned to one of the beds.

Jeonghan obliged, letting out a pained groan as he sat down. “I need a favor,” he forced out, sitting still as Joshua grabbed a pair of scissors, cutting through Jeonghan’s zipper hoodie to reveal the deep cut from the shoulder to the elbow.

“Tell me what happened to you,” Joshua asked softly, it sounded like a routine question. But Jeonghan knew it was genuine curiosity. Joshua sat down on a stool beside the bed, examining all the damage done.

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan muttered. “I need you to do something for me.”

Seungcheol stood before the bed, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m listening.”

Jeonghan took in a breath, mustering the courage to speak as pain throbbed inside him. “In the outskirts of Veridian Bay, some three kilometres south, are three dead hunters.”

“Shit,” he hissed. “Demons? Were you with them?”

Jeonghan shook his head, swallowing hard. “I killed them.”

Both Joshua and Seungcheol stopped dead in their tracks. Hunter deaths were common, and they were just reported, families were contacted in some cases. But most of the time, they went unnoticed. But hunters killing other hunters was something out of the ordinary.

“Jeonghan, what happened?” Joshua asked slowly and with a tone laced with concern.

Jeonghan shuddered, shaking his head again. “I can’t,” he choked out. “I just need that taken care of. I couldn’t go back to get them.”

Seungcheol ran a palm on his face, and Jeonghan knew he would not let this go easily. But he just nodded and turned around to strut out of the hospital wing. “Consider it done.”

Jeonghan and Joshua waited quietly, sitting very still until the loud noise of the front door slamming shut announced that they were alone. In the distance, the roar of Seungcheol’s bike echoed throughout the clear of the vicinity, growing more and more distant as he drove away.

Joshua continued working, cleaning the wound on Jeonghan’s arm, sending glances to his face to both measure how much painJeonghan was experiencing and to wait for him to talk.

“They killed her,” Jeonghan croaked, closing his eyes as a painful shudder swarmed inside him, threatening to break his mind.

“The hunters?” Joshua murmured.

“They came for her, I couldn’t do anything. She was gone before I could get to her,” he whispered, his face contorting in pain from the first puncturing of the needle stitching his skin back together, and the image of you lying on the ground.

“It has been months since we last talked, Jeonghan,” Joshua mentioned, carefully closing one stitch. “What changed?”

Jeonghan shook his head, refusing to open his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” Joshua replied, his gentle tone easing some of the anxiousness in Jeonghan’s mind.

Jeonghan opened his eyes, finding his best friend sitting beside him. “Do you know anything about bonds?” he asked, waiting until Joshua nodded reluctantly. “Pacts, deals, promises… everything we were taught in training, you know that they are binding contracts with demons.”

Joshua frowned. “Did you make a pact with her?” he asked knowingly.

“Much worse,” Jeonghan replied, adding an empty smile that felt crazy to him. “She was bound to me and I to her since we were born.”

Joshua blinked a couple of times, tilting his head to one side and lowering his medical tools just a little. His gaze glided over the features of Jeonghan’s weary and dirty face, waiting for him to elaborate.

“You know,” Jeonghan asserted once his best friend remained quiet. “Did you know about this?”

Joshua sent his gaze upward, outlining the corners of the room pensively. “I’m never on the field, not like you and Seungcheol. I stay here, I patch all of you up and in the meantime, I hear the stories you bring from out there.”

“Please get to the point,” Jeonghan gritted, bracing himself for more physical pain as Joshua resumed stitching his arm up.

“I’ve heard stories, yeah,” Joshua mumbled, carefully adding another stitch. “When you told me about her, I just wondered about it. But you never showed up again, so I couldn’t tell you anything.”

Jeonghan sighed in resignation. “She is my soulmate,” he said, the word coming out with enough weight to make his heart protest in pain.

“How do you feel?” Joshua pulled back to take a surveying look.

“I buried her… She’s gone,” Jeonghan mumbled dejectedly, his gaze falling out of focus, lost in the distance. “She’s gone.”

The small patches of flowers surrounding the place where you lay, would they grow over you? Do you like flowers?

“Sounds like you cared about her,” Joshua whispered, finishing up the last stitch.

“Everything happened so fast,” Jeonghan went on, swallowing his tears. “I couldn’t get to her in time. I felt her pain. I felt the last beating of her heart.”

Joshua stopped, the pause was minimal, but it meant something. “You felt it?”

Jeonghan nodded in sharp, but tiny motions. “They tried to cut her wings,” he whispered in a near-crazed look flashing his eyes. Jeonghan was lost in the memory, trying to retrace every move he made upon finding you, but he could not remember what he did to those hunters.

“Jeonghan, what do you mean you felt it?” Joshua pressed, his tone more urgent and Jeonghan could tell that his friend was worried about him.

“The bond. We can sense each other through it,” he said, his voice breaking halfway through the sentence.

“But not anymore?” Joshua prodded, his tone gentle and cautious, fearing that his friend might be losing touch with reality.

“Not anymore,” Jeonghan breathed in, his chest stammering as he suppressed a sob, tears welling up in his eyes.

“And the bond?” Joshua lifted his gaze from the work he was doing, his tone rose in worry.

“It’s still there,” Jeonghan sniffled, crestfallen as tears rolled down his cheeks. “It’s still calling me to her, there’s just no receiving end.��

Joshua left his tools on the cart beside him, discarding the rags filthy with blood. He let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders going slack. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he muttered, gently patting Jeonghan’s back, then bringing his hand to the back of his head, caressing as if to soothe him.

But there was nothing that could ever soothe Jeonghan’s pain. The emptiness inside him seemed to ache at its edges, his mind felt shaken with the reality he was thrust into. It seemed insane that it had been hours since he kissed you, eager with the prospect of starting fresh with you.

And now you were gone.

There was no point in cursing at life’s way to mock him anymore. Jeonghan thought this was the way he was paying for all the times he neglected you, all the times he hurt you. But the selfish part in him wished that life had given him the opportunity to say goodbye to you.

Jeonghan’s heart broke the night he lost you.

Despite everything that happened, he tried to move on. He convinced himself that life still went on and that you would have wanted him to move forward.

He kept your memory alive through small things. Some mornings he would go to a diner and order pancakes with syrup and bacon. When he was alone in his room, he would pretend you were there with him. He would imagine hearing your laugh, the small sounds you made when you slept.

It was the first month since you were gone. Jeonghan never had the opportunity to know what your favorite flowers were if you even liked receiving flowers. So he routinely left a different bouquet of flowers on the grave he made for you. He left lilies, the first time he went to visit you, one hand holding the bouquet, the other holding a bottle of rum.

He sat on the ground, leaning back against the trunk of a tree. The clear was quiet and dense with humidity, his senses stimulated by the smell of wet grass and dirt.

There was a peace that filled the emptiness inside him as he sat beside your grave. As though the bond could rest easy once he was there, even though there was no response from you.

Jeonghan grabbed the bottle with one hand around its neck and tipped a generous amount of rum in his mouth. Exhaling harshly, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. “At least we have our answer, eh?” Jeonghan muttered glumly.

The next time he went there, some three weeks later, he brought you petunias. He thought that they would look good along with the wild chamomiles that were growing around you. This time he realized that he did not bring a bottle with him, and he did not need it. He just sat there, content with the peace that being near you brought him.

The third month you laid there, he brought you peonies. This time, he bought them with the memory of your glinting eyes the last and only time he saw you with joy and love glowing all around you.

He stood before the grave with his hands inside his pockets, looking at the ground adorned with flowers. “I don’t even know if you liked flowers,” he said, an empty smile curving his lips. “But I don’t know what else people leave on graves.”

With a tired sigh, he sat down on the ground, tucking his legs in a butterfly position. His fingers toyed with the grass growing in patches beneath him. The stillness of the clearing offered him the moment for reflection; he ventured again with questions about you. He never wondered about what the afterlife would look like, but sometimes he liked to think that there was some preternatural way you could listen to him.

“Shua saw me with flowers this morning,” he said, chuckling awkwardly. “He said nothing, just told me to come back before sundown. I think he’s known for a while that I come here to visit you.” He raised his gaze, finding the sunlight filtering through the thicket of the trees, bathing him. “He’s a good friend, I think you would like him.”

Jeonghan lowered his gaze to the flowers sitting on the ground. He propped one elbow on his knee, resting his chin on his fist. “I almost didn’t come here this time,” he muttered guiltily, filling his chest with air to try to push the ache inside him.

It was as though the mere thought of not coming here to visit you made the bond protest. When you were alive, it was the mad craving for you that did not allow him to stay away for long. Now, it was just a thing that pulsated inside him, calling for you.

He breathed in, filling his lungs with the humid air of the quiet forest, trying to gulp down the knot coiling around his throat. “I miss you,” he whispered to the ground, his eyes brimming with hot tears. “I wish I could go back and do things differently with you… I wish I hadn’t been so stupid.”

He stood up, dusting the dirt from his hands while contemplating whether he wanted to say goodbye to you or not. Instead, he turned and walked away from the clear, enjoying the chirping of the birds keeping you company as he returned home.

Jeonghan returned to the manor, where he had been living since that night. The smell of food distracted him before he went to his designated room, so he just walked to the kitchen, finding Joshua busy preparing dinner.

“You’re back,” Joshua muttered gently, but the look he sent was weary. “I thought you’d be gone for longer.”

“There was not much to do,” he muttered offhandedly.

Joshua set a plate on the small dining table motioning to Jeonghan to the chair. “That’s for you,” he said.

“Thanks,” Jeonghan replied, sitting down with a tired groan. He kept an eye on his friend, pacing around the kitchen of the old manor. “What’s up with you?”

“Just thinking,” Joshua muttered, serving a plate for himself, and sat down in front of Jeonghan, occupying a space on the table too. “Ever tried summoning her?”

Jeonghan’s eyes went wide, his heart stammering for a split second. “What?” he choked out.

Joshua took the fork into his mouth and nodded, munching his food with ease, as though he was having the most normal conversation on the planet. “Have you ever tried summoning her?” he repeated slowly.

“No,” he replied, his tone coming out like a question.

“Mmm, I see,” he said, taking his cup to drink with long and generous gulps.

“Why?” Jeonghan asked, but his friend kept drinking.

Joshua shrugged. “I just thought that you might’ve tried it at least once.”

“Why would I do that?” Jeonghan frowned, the ache palpitating strongly in his chest. “She’s gone.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up like that,” Joshua replied, lowering his gaze in shame.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning your cheek against the side of his head. The sighs slowly turned into moans, spilling out of your lips relentlessly as you rolled your hips on him, fucking him slowly. “Jeonghan,” your voice called.

“I know, baby,” he replied, enjoying the feeling he got whenever he was with you, it was bright and alive and dancing on his skin. “I feel it too,” he whispered.

You moved your hands to cup his face, pressing a hard kiss on his lips as you started moving your hips on him faster. “I love you,” you breathed.

Jeonghan moaned, wrapping you with his arms to flip the positions on the bed, pressing your body against the mattress. “I love you,” he replied, a shudder overpowering him, making him utter your name, over and over as he made love to you.

He pressed his body against the hard mattress, calling your name again as he woke up violently with an exasperated sigh. Rubbing his hands against his face, he shook himself from the merciless dream he had of you. “Gods,” he choked out, covering his face in shame, breathing hard against his hands. “Fuck, fuck!”

The hole in his chest pulsated painfully, desperately calling out to you to no end. As he closed his eyes, gathering himself, he saw you in the eye of his mind. Your sweet smile, every curve of your body.

It seemed a true tragedy that he could feel you in his dreams only. He felt your skin, he felt the bond responding to you the way it used to when you were alive. It was the first time he dreamed of you since you left, and he suspected it would not be the last.

This was his burden to bear. And he would have to endure it.

When Jeonghan first met you, he could not make sense of the pull he felt. His surroundings warped and everything focused on you, on your face, your eyes, even your smell. Jeonghan did not feel the very particular repulsion he always felt whenever he came in close contact with a demon.

But he wished to. He tried to force himself to recoil at the thought of you, after he met you. But everything inside him made him want to walk right back to that pub where you used to work. In the back of his mind, he saw the doors to the pub, the bar, he wanted to go there one more time and see you.

It felt wrong. It felt so dirty and sticky to even think about you without recoiling. But Jeonghan was strong-willed, and very diligent on his job, so he just kept himself to his business. Tracking and getting rid of demons. But somehow, he could not get near you again, even if everything in his life obligated him to track you, hunt you.

Time went on like this, his mind plagued with the morbid curiosity to go back to that pub and see you again. In his dreams, he saw your eyes, he heard your voice make out the same exact words you told him the night he met you. He heard your voice utter your name, the sound echoing in the back of his mind as he tried to continue with his life.

Until one night, when something unfortunate happened.

It was one of those sleepless nights, Jeonghan decided to go on a night watch out of town. He was tracking some demon activity he was informed of nights ago. This demon apparently had a pattern which was not a rarity, demons could tend to go for certain humans at a certain time, it was not weird.

But apparently, this demon liked to hunt a particular kind of human; humans that were either wanted criminals or suspects of a crime, people that liked transgressing against their own in the worst ways imaginable. And that was something worth noting to Jeonghan, it made this demon easy to catch.

Or at least, that is what he had thought.

Night after night, Jeonghan had no luck falling asleep and when he went out to track this demon, he had no luck focusing on the task at hand. He was on the verge of calling it a night, wanting to fall asleep in his car, or in the nearest motel he could find. Walking aimlessly on the side of the road, he realized that it would take him about twenty minutes to get to where he parked his car and sighed.

A small shiver ran down his spine as if the line of his back was being stroked with the tip of a paintbrush. His eyelids fluttered in response, and his chest felt strange, like overcome by a fuzzy sensation.

He needed to be alert, he thought. A demon was around, and he could sense it. Stopping his lazy gait, he sent his gaze to scope his surroundings, through the thicket of trees flanking the lonely road.

But as the feeling inside him returned, and more intensely, he realized that he was in danger. A rustle of leaves echoed at the other side of the road where he stood, and slowly, a figure emerged from the trees, it moved gracefully and gently. A pair of dark horns distorted the shadow.

As he reached for the knife strapped to his thigh, he realized that he only felt endangered because it was you who moved through the shadows of the forest. And he wanted to avoid you above all.

“I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever see you again,” your voice reached him like a gentle caress on his mind.

“What are you doing here?” Jeonghan said, not removing his fist from the handle of his knife. “Are you following me?”

You tilted your head to one side, a smirk spreading on your lips. “Why, are you afraid of me?” you mused, laughing lightly. But when he did not reply to your quip, you just shrugged. “I came out because I was craving a snack. But I think you might suffice.”

His fist tightened around the handle, his eyes quickly reading your stance, but you remained leaning on your side to the trunk of the tree.

“Relax, hunter,” you said, tossing your hair from your shoulder to your back and crossing your arms. “Have a little laugh, you look tense.”

Jeonghan stood his ground, lifting his chin to analyze you a bit further. “Did you kill any humans tonight?”

“No, not yet,” you picked your nails, trying to appear as uninterested in his questioning as possible, but your heart was running a mile per second. Being around Jeonghan was thrilling, it made you feel full in your chest and every nerve beneath your skin to call for him.

“But you will,” he said, realizing that it was you, the demon he was looking for. The demon that only fed on men that hurt women and children.

“Well, a girl’s gotta eat,” you sighed, pushing yourself off the tree and taking a step toward him.

He tensed up at that instant, one foot stepping back but then he decided to hold his ground, trying to resist walking away. You were dangerous, and he did not know what set you apart from other demons.

You ignored the fact that he still had a hand on his knife, and he was very much as lethal as you were. Taking some steps to where he stood still, you coiled one finger around a strand of hair, smiling when you realized that he was not afraid of you, but weary.

“You seem like you need a night off,” you pointed, coming closer to him to take a fuller look at his face, seeing the bags under his lifeless eyes, and the dry skin on his lips.

“Don’t come any closer,” Jeonghan warned, rigid with the question of why he could not make his muscles move in any direction.

“Or what?” you asked, standing in front of him. “Are you going to kill me, hunter?” you asked, your eyes glimmering in the dark, full of curiosity.

“If you take another step I might,” Jeonghan replied with certainty, something in him stirring with a strange fascination when you smiled at the clear warning.

“No, you won’t,” you countered, giving him one of those looks that made him feel more uneasy. “You’re not at full strength, you’re tired, and hungry. And worst of all, you feel like you can’t move, am I right?”

It was like you could read into his soul, he thought. Your words were like wildfire spreading inside him, it made his insides boil with rage. Part of him wondered why he was made this uncomfortable and angry at something one demon said. Demons spoke out of the need to lure hunters into a trap, and this was no different. But this trap seemed so tempting.

To drive your point further, you took another step, inches away from Jeonghan.

“I make you nervous,” you whispered, fascination glinting on your eyes as you wallowed. “What are you going to do, Jeonghan? You can’t run away, and you can’t attack me, so what’s your next move?”

His breathing shifted when his name fell from your lips. He had never felt this way, he realized. The quick pulse, the fluttering in his stomach, the shaky breathing, he knew how nervousness felt, but this was entirely new to him.

“Hm?” you pressed, tilting your head to one side as you nearly stood on your tiptoes to level with him. “Come on, no one’s going to judge you if you run away, and I won’t tell a soul,” you showed him a mischievous smile, one that he might have hated if it were not for the tight feeling invading him wholly.

As you stood before him, one thing became painfully clear to him: he was attracted to you. It was something simply physical, or that was what he tried to convince himself. Maybe it was your pretty face, your velvety tone, the grace in which you moved. Not only that, as he casted a look down to meet your face, he also had a glimpse of your frame and the thought of wanting to meet every curve of your body was alluring.

So alluring that he wanted to surrender to it.

At that, your eyes shone more intensely. Again, as though you had a secret line to his thoughts, and you just had discovered what he was thinking.

But you sighed with faux disappointment. “And here I thought you were fun,” you pouted in mockery. “Pity. I guess I’ll just go and have fun elsewhere,” you moved again, walking around his body once, as though taking another full look at him. “Bye, hunter.”

And then you sunk into the line of trees again, disappearing from his view. But his senses were already tuned and following you, so he could hear every step you took down the forest. And he could not help but take a step in your direction as well.

That night, he chased you down the forest, his heart beating in a frenzy, his mind blank but with only one intention. You started sprinting, laughing lightly when he kept with your pace and ran closely behind you.

When Jeonghan was finally within reach, he grabbed your arm, turning you around and messing up your step. You stumbled back against a tree, realizing that he had calculated this because his arms were caging you in on both of your sides.

Jeonghan brought a hand to your throat, his fingers pressing on your skin harshly, his strength subsiding once he felt your pulse. But his face, riddled with confusion and frustration at the same time, his mouth parted a little as he could not bring himself to say anything. His gaze swam over the features of your pretty face, stopping once on your eyes, your lips.

The moment was deadly quiet as you witnessed the fire inside him die down slowly once he came in contact with you, skin on skin. It was game over, you knew it, and Jeonghan did too. There was a quiet exchange of glances right before Jeonghan dipped his head and you closed your eyes, gulping on air as his lips met your own with a swift kiss.

What possessed him to do that, Jeonghan did not know, but he was not in the position to ask himself any more questions because he did it again. Kissing you now with abandon, his lips sinking in between yours, making out with you like he never had with anyone else. You moaned into the kiss, sending him into a frenzy.

It was as though you were both committing a crime, and none of you would say a word. You grabbed him by the flaps of the black leather jacket, pulling him impossibly closer to your body, the proximity making your chest feel fuller, your blood heating up.

He released his grip on your throat, his fingers sliding down your torso to undo the button of your blouse. The next moves were rushed, as though neither of you wanted to stop and question what you were about to do. And the forest around you stood silent too, being witness to the fateful deed.

In seconds, Jeonghan had you pressed against the trunk of the tree, your legs wrapped around his hips, your skirt hiked up your tummy, your chest naked and exposed to him. You sneaked a hand between your body and his, reaching for his hard cock to guide it to your entrance for him to sink inside you, making you feel every inch of his dick in one go.

The first stroke set your whole body aflame. Your mouth fell open, but no sound came out as Jeonghan wasted no time and started fucking you with hard thrusts, not giving you time to adjust to the stretch of his cock. The wind got knocked out of your lungs with sharp exhales, but you kept yourself angled for the merciless rutting, unable to look away from the fiery obsession growing inside him, showing on his face.

Neither of you said a thing, just kept looking at each other, unable to speak, or to look away. The feeling was exquisite, invading every inch of your body, tingling beneath your skin. Jeonghan’s eyes glazed over, his mouth parting slightly but he kept himself quiet, fucking you to get rid of the thing trying to rip his heart out.

And when you reached your orgasm, it was the best feeling you had ever experienced in your life. It had you finally moaning out his name, clenching around him as he too spilled himself inside you with hard thrusts.

That was the night that kickstarted the deep craving and obsession you had for each other, the push and pull that Jeonghan could not make sense of until the night you told him of the bond. That was the night that Jeonghan regretted for a long time until he lost you.

“Hey, are you there?”

Jeonghan lifted his head, snapping back to reality. He had been contemplating for hours, sitting in the kitchen with a mug of cold tea in his hands. His fingers had grown cold again. He cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Mingyu opened the fridge for the fifth time that day, just to close it again. “Wonwoo and I are going to a Halloween parade downtown, see if we catch something fun. Wanna come with us?”

Jeonghan did not know for how long he had been sitting there reminiscing about you. In his mind, Jeonghan could still feel your touch on his skin, so it was difficult for him to assimilate what he had just heard, so he nodded again, accepting the invitation. “Sure,” he croaked.

“‘Kay,” Mingyu smiled giddily with the triumph of getting Jeonghan out of the house. “See you in the garage in five minutes.”

The streets were full of nocturnal life. People came out with costumes of all kinds, some of them were recognizable to Jeonghan, and some were not. It was a small city where the headquarters were located, but Jeonghan was not surprised to see a lot of people gathering there for the Halloween parade.

Demons ran amok in places like this, they practically crawled into these types of events, and humans were easier prey in crowded places. It was also easier for demons to mask themselves.

“We should go, Mingyu,” Jeonghan said, moving through the crowd and using Mingyu as a shield.

“Maybe we could move to the sidelines,” Wonwoo suggested, walking behind Jeonghan. “It would be easier to stay alert like that, we don’t have to be in the thick of the crowd.”

“Have a little fun, you two,” Mingyu said. He was a person that could find the good side to nearly everything, even this damned job, Jeonghan thought.

“I’m going to take a breather,” Jeonghan said, trying to cut through the crowd.

“Gods, you are one ray of sunshine,” Mingyu tutted. “Come on, this way,” he motioned to one side of the multitude of people, where they could cross more efficiently.

Jeonghan followed, walking away from the sea of people, and starting to thread through it to get to the other side of the street when he felt it. It was a rush, tingling down from the back of his head to the rest of his spine. It left him speechless, breathless.

“Wait,” Jeonghan blurted, placing a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder.

“What is it?” he frowned, sending his gaze through the sea of faces. The muscles of his jaw twitched, and as he drew in a breath, he exhaled: “Demon.”

Jeonghan stood frozen, eyes fixated on the pavement. “No,” he uttered dejectedly, straightening up to catch his breath. Not just any demon. He searched through the mass of unknown eyes, the masks, the makeup, growing more and more desperate as the feeling returned caressing his back, making him shudder.

“Jeonghan, what is it?” Mingyu muttered beside him, squaring up his shoulders after noticing the shocked expression on his face.

Yoon Jeonghan would know your face anywhere. Not just that, but the way the very air seemed to change whenever you were near.

“Mingyu, stop,” he whispered, digging his fingers on the muscle to bring him to a halt.

Mingyu dropped his jaw slightly, ignoring Jeonghan’s direct order and made a motion to step into the crowd again, a hand reaching for the knife on his back.

“I said stop,” Jeonghan ordered at once, his tone firm and snappy.

You moved through the sea of people, your eyes swimming all over the place in true amazement, your mouth parting as you looked at the costumes that the people around you wore.

Jeonghan shuddered, unable to blink in fear you were an illusion. But Mingyu saw you too, he saw your wings in full display, brushing against the humans around you, and he saw your black horns curving back from the crown of your head.

You laughed when a man dressed in a killer clown costume jumped on you, trying to get a scare out of you but failing miserably. The sound of your laughter made Jeonghan weak, it made him want to dissolve into the pavement below his feet.

“What the fuck?” Mingyu whispered, looking at you and then back at Jeonghan. “She’s a demon, what are we waiting for?”

“She’s mine,” Jeonghan snapped but did not look away from you. He simply removed his hand from Mingyu’s shoulder and started to walk slowly towards you as you moved through the myriads of costumes, wide-eyed in amazement.

As he came closer, reality seemed more and more like a joke to him. He tried to convince himself that perhaps he was dreaming again. But there was no denying the bond pulsating stronger as he approached you.

“Nice wings,” a guy said in passing, catching your attention but only for a fleeting moment.

You made no reply, only continued looking at your surroundings, the lights mirroring your dark eyes, full of hunger, full of life. Dark eyes that glided all over Jeonghan’s frame as he stood in front of you, perplexed to the point he forgot speech, he forgot how to use his mouth.

“What are you supposed to be?” you asked, tilting your head to one side.

Jeonghan did not know what to reply, as he was unsure that you even knew that you spent the last three months three feet below ground. You looked as alive as the day he told you he loved you.

You died, I buried you. Jeonghan’s mind reeled over and over. Your heart stopped beating, I buried you.

“I’m… I…” Jeonghan whispered, not by choice, but by the inability to raise his voice higher.

Your eyes went over the features of his face, and he expected eagerly to see a glint of recognition in them, but you beat him to it. “Do I know you?” you asked, your voice soft and gentle with him, but you did not know that your question might have been like a dagger to his heart.

His heart caved in, and he took the pain as he had been taking it for the last three months that you were gone. “I don’t think so, no,” he finally said, his pulse quickening upon realizing that the sound of his voice made your pupils dilate.

His voice. A very distant memory, like trying to recall a lost dream upon waking up from a long nap. You studied him with your gaze one more time, trying to figure out why his face meant something to you.

Jeonghan saw his two companions through the corner of his eye, but he ignored them, knowing the reason why you also looked so wide-eyed. “Are you hungry?” he asked, and seeing your brow furrowing, he quickly added with a thumb pointing back. “There’s a diner down the street, far away from all this noise.”

And far away from any potential casualties.

“I suppose I don’t get a name,” you quipped, and shivers ran down his spine.

So he tried to figure out if that brought back any memories when he said: “Only if I get yours first.”

Your gaze went soft, your breathing quickening slightly but only for him to notice it. You did not know your name, and the realization shook you so hard that it made you dizzy. “Yeah, I think I’ll go with you. If you’re buying.”

At that, Jeonghan mustered up a light smile, seeing that although your memories were gone, you were still you. “Yeah, I’m buying.”

He cast a look back only to make sure that Mingyu had understood why Jeonghan had ordered him to stop. And there was a knowing look mirroring back in Mingyu’s eyes, as he needed no explanation. Jeonghan nodded to him and then motioned you to follow down the street where the diner was located.

As you walked in front of him, he got a view of your entire frame. The t-shirt you had worn the day that you died was torn on the back midway through, for when those hunters tried to cut your wings. The rest of your clothes were dirty too, black with traces of blood and dirt, adding to the illusion of a Halloween costume.

“This place is good. I’ve been here many times before,” Jeonghan lied, keeping an eye on you to see if you were keen on catching his lies. “The pancakes and syrup are delicious.”

“Pancakes and syrup?” your eyes flitted to his face and back to the diner as Jeonghan pushed the door open, holding it for you.

Jeonghan nodded in short motions, his heart deflating a little when he saw no evidence that you had caught his lie. “You’ll love it.”

“Mmn,” you hummed confusedly, following him like a puppy that has just found a knowing elder. “I believe you.”

Jeonghan motioned to a seat of one of the booths and you slid obediently, crossing your arms on the table. He flagged down one of the servers and ordered for you only, glancing your way back and forth, tearing his gaze away only when you noticed his eyes on you.

“Eh,” you began, scratching an invisible itch on the back of your hand when the server kept looking at you weirdly until she walked away.

“It’s your wings,” Jeonghan pointed at your large, membranous black wings with the tip of his nose. “They look too real for a Halloween costume.”

You pouted, giving one of your wings a look. “They are real,” you muttered, seemingly offended.

Jeonghan sighed, unable to tear his eyes away from you. I’m glad they are, I’m glad you are real, he wanted to say but the words never came. “Yeah, I know.”

“These are too,” you pointed to the black horns curving back from the crown of your head.

“I know,” Jeonghan muttered, leaning over with a curiosity that he could no longer try to shake off. “Can you try to hide them?” he asked.

Your eyes were windows to your mind because they widened in shock for an instant. “Is that possible?”

Jeonghan realized that he never asked you how you did it, so he nodded and thought of a reply quickly. “Imagine them gone.”

Instinctively, your eyes swam upwards, focusing for half a thought and then your horns dissipated from his vision. “Oh,” you muttered, smiling in small triumph. “Did I do it?”

He smiled with you, unbeknownst that he had not done that in months. “You did it,” he said, his chest finally feeling whole and warm. “Can you try with your wings now?”

“Mmmn,” you frowned, breathing in and then they were gone too. “Oh, that feels weird,” you muttered with a small giggle that sent chills down his spine.

“Two coffees and pancakes with syrup for the young lady,” the server chirped, aloof that you had gotten rid of your horns and wings completely, serving the order and then walking away.

“Thanks,” he muttered, expecting for your first bite.

You were aloof to his scrutiny, sinking your fork into your food and taking one bite. You had the reaction that Jeonghan had secretly been waiting for, your eyes widened, glinting as you released a pleased moan. “Wow,” you muttered, wasting no time and taking another bite.

“Is it good?” Jeonghan whispered, keeping his eyes on you as you ate eagerly.

“So good,” you mumbled, your cheeks stuffed with your favorite dish. “I like this.”

“I’m glad,” Jeonghan replied meaningfully, trying for a second time to see if that brought any memories back. After seeing your reaction, he had no doubt in mind that somehow you were miraculously brought back to him instead, he was full of questions now, and he knew it would not be a straight answer to every single one of them.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you raised your eyebrows just as you were about to take another bite from your food. When he remained motionless, you added: “We’re strangers, I know, but I know that look.”

“Eh?” he frowned.

“You know, when someone wants to say something but doesn’t have the guts to,” you shrugged. “I don’t know much about things, but I can be a really good listener, and…” you sneaked a glance at his face and back to your plate. “You seem familiar.”

Jeonghan saw some glimpse of hope, but he remained careful. Nothing could be this good in his life and you coming back to it had to be another joke somehow. “Where do you come from?” he asked.

You pursed your lips, dubious of how to reply but you just went with what you could make out from experience. “I actually don’t know,” you said with an awkward air. “I dug myself out of a hole in the ground.”

Jeonghan showed you a sad smile. “That seems like a weird experience,” he commented just to keep you talking.

And it worked. “Yeah, I guess nobody thought of double-checking to see if I was really dead,” you smiled lightly but sent a quick glance to verify if Jeonghan would understand your dry humour.

“Or maybe you’re just a very deep sleeper.”

That made you laugh, the sound bubbly and airy. It surprised you for a second, but Jeonghan caught that look on your face despite him being overridden with a deep sense of joy when he heard the sound coming out of your mouth.

Jeonghan tried to keep his facial expressions in check, but he was so mesmerized that it showed in his glinting eyes.

“What about you, stranger?” you asked, pushing the empty plate aside and propped one elbow on the table, resting your chin on your hand.

“What about me?” he asked uncomfortably, coughing to shake off the deep wonder he felt.

“Where do you come from?” you asked innocently, shifting slightly on your seat to mask that you were also uncomfortable by the sense of familiarity his face gave you.

“I come from a town very, very far away from here,” he responded.

“Are you not hungry? You didn’t eat,” you said, taking the cup of coffee to your lips to drink one large gulp, you recoiled immediately, putting the cup down and using that hand to cover your mouth.

“What?” Jeonghan asked, frowning upon knowing that reaction. It was a natural instinct to recoil from things that could burn, humans did it. But not demons. Demons could not get burned from a hot coffee, much less feel like recoiling instinctively.

“It’s hot,” you said, lifting your eyes to him in shame as your eyes watered slightly from the stinging pain.

“Did you get burned?” Jeonghan pressed in utter bewilderment.

“Well, yeah, that’s what happens when something is really, really hot!” your eyes widened.

Then you did something that only sent him further down his intrigue, reaching out to grab the sugar to add two spoons to your coffee. You did this naturally and without much thinking. It was as though your memories were lost, but things out of habit remained with you. He wondered then if that was how you had instinctively found him. He wondered how strongly you felt the bond.

“Well?” you asked, stirring your coffee with the spoon with gentleness. When he just raised his eyebrows, you added: “Aren’t you hungry?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “No, I’m not,” he replied, clasping his hands beneath his chin and propping his elbows on the table. “You?”

You nodded. “I’m full,” you replied contently.

Confusion gripped him again, making him furrow his brow. “You’re not hungry anymore?” he asked, knowing that you could take one full meal, and still be hungry for more. Because no meal could satiate your need to feed on souls.

But you nodded cutely. “Yep, full.”

Another glimpse of hope. Something Jeonghan desperately wanted to cling to. If you could burn yourself, and feel full after one meal… not only that, but you miraculously and quite literally crawled out of your grave.

“Do you remember what it felt like?” Jeonghan whispered, so quiet that for a second he feared you would not be capable of hearing him.

But you raised your eyes. “What?”

“When you woke up in that hole, do you remember what happened before that?”

You shook your head slowly. “Nope,” you pouted once more. “How do you know I don’t remember?” you inquired, tilting your head to one side.

“I uh,” Jeonghan leaned back on his seat, flagging the server to ask for the bill. “I guess you’re familiar too,” he said, showing you a tight smile.

“Mmph,” you looked at him for a long moment, thinking that his eyes, the glint in them made you think of a spark before a fire.

Jeonghan on the other side of the table, was beginning to mortify with the idea that your temporary death might have inched you closer to becoming human. The time you tried to become human was through soul starvation, something that was slowly killing you too. And he thought that maybe you were only able to come back because you remained part-demon. A half-mortal.

Jeonghan also suspected that it was him uttering your name in the middle of the night the detonator for your resurrection if he could even call it that. Summoning a demon was a whole ritual, but you were bound to him and him to you, so everything that he thought he knew about it was uncertain too.

“I guess I should thank you for the food,” you toyed with the edges of the table without looking at him. “But I also don’t know why you’re doing this for me.”

“You have nothing to thank me for,” he said, realizing that his throat had gone dry with his thinking, he felt breathless, and it was not only because it was hard for him to sit with the fact that you were back, but also because he now had to make a choice.

If he was right and you were half-human now, you were also unaware of the bond. Jeonghan was face to face with the opportunity to finally let you go, and set you free from this vicious cycle. You would not be subjected to a lifetime of misery with him, being chased for being who you are and being with a demon hunter like him.

But there was another problem: he made a promise to you.

“Are you okay?” you whispered.

“Yeah, yes I am,” he cleared his throat once again, he pulled out his wallet and left a bill on the table. “Listen, I’ll show you a place where you can stay for now, alright?”

Before you could answer, he stood up from the table and walked towards the door of the diner, making you follow him outside.

“Where are we going?” you asked, trying to keep up with his large steps.

“A place where you could be taken in, a shelter,” he eyed you as you walked beside him.

“Will I see you again?” you looked panicked for a second, fear creeping inside you at the thought of him disappearing.

“No,” he replied shortly, lowering his gaze to the ground as he led you through an alleyway, knowing that the shelter would be just across from it.

Jeonghan could honor his promise to you. He would not walk away from you, he would not let you go. That would make the bond grow peaceful and content, and that would make his suffering end at once.

One undeniable truth was that if he could walk away from you, there would be no danger around you. Sure, you were still half-demon, so that would eventually put a target on your back. But he could keep an eye on you from afar, make sure you’re making the right choices for yourself, as you always have.

That way, maybe you could continue to have the life you always wanted. Maybe, in time, you would find someone who would give you what he never could, maybe that someone would be able to love you the way you deserve.

“Right,” Jeonghan breathed, trying to ease the pain in his chest. “I’ll be going now,” he muttered, slowly turning around and walking down the empty alleyway, every step becoming more and more torturous to him.

You watched him walk, the movement of his body growing weaker as the distance grew. “Hey,” you called, but he did not stop. “Stranger!” you began approaching him, but his steps took him farther from you. “Stop!”

Jeonghan did, breathing raggedly. Breaking a promise was hard, and the pain was nearly lethal. He vaguely remembered you saying something about breaking promises made to demons, but the pain numbed him to his last nerve ending.

You quickly made your way over to him, noticing that his body was shaking uncontrollably. “Hey,” you sighed, gathering yourself.

“What?” Jeonghan forced out, his voice quivering as he tried to stop the tremors. He was growing feverish, but as you closed the distance, he could regain some of his composure.

“I can’t let you go,” you frowned, unable to comprehend why you were so intrigued by him.

Jeonghan laughed dazedly, it was a mad laugh but not at you, but directed towards life and its crazy way to mock him. “You must,” he replied, the feeling coiling in his throat nearly strangled him. “Go to the shelter. They’ll take you in. You could start a life far away from this fucking mess.”

“Start a life?” you parroted again. “I don’t know my name, or who I am. Don’t go. Please?”

Jeonghan searched your eyes one more time. If he could not keep his promise, then at least he would give you back your name before walking away from you once and for all. “Your name…” he choked out your name, falling on his knees from the numbing pain he felt.

“That’s my name?” you whispered, trying to keep him on his feet, but he was growing heavy in your arms. “What’s yours?”

Jeonghan shook his head slowly, his eyes glazing over as he started to lose consciousness. “No,” whispered. “Go, forget me. Forget all this.”

“Please,” you insisted. Grabbing his face as he knelt in front of you, seeing his dark eyes, his soft lips. “I know you. I know I do,” you muttered, kneeling down so you could see him face to face.

He sighed, grabbing one of your hands and pressing it gently against his cheek, closing his eyes briefly. “My name is Yoon Jeonghan,” he muttered, bracing himself for the merciless thrill of the bond snapping in place one more time.

You sucked in a breath, your body tensing as the familiar feeling returned to your bones, coursing through your veins. “Jeonghan,” you breathed.

Jeonghan kept his eyes closed but shuddered as you uttered his name, choking back a sob. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, afraid of opening his eyes. “I promised I wouldn’t walk away from you,” he slurred the words, feeling lightheaded as his forehead fell forward, bumping with yours. “I’m sorry…”

“Jeonghan,” you whispered, your hands cradling his face shifted slightly in their place, feeling his skin.

He held his breath out of fear that you might reject the bond as he did to you many months ago. He wished to keep you there for a second longer, your forehead pressed to his, even if his lucidity waned, verging closer to passing out.

But then, you ran the pad of your thumb over his bottom lip softly, making him pull back slightly, opening his eyes to see your face. Something had changed. In your eyes he found the familiarity in them, you knew him.

He whispered your name carefully, fearful. “Baby?” he breathed, right before his head lolled to one side, his body following it to the ground, where he lost consciousness.

Jeonghan woke up abruptly, disorientated. The ceiling was one he had never seen before and that induced him into a panic that pushed him to sit on the bed where he lay. Lightheaded, he understood after some seconds that he was in a motel room. And that he was completely alone.

Had he been dreaming all this time? He rose from the bed going around it to look for traces of you. But he found nothing. Breathing fitfully, he took his hands to his head, forcing himself to focus.

The door clicked softly and was pushed open cautiously. As you entered the room, you sneaked a look directly at the bed, expecting to find Jeonghan still in his sleep, your gaze swam across the room, falling upon Jeonghan, who stood frozen directly parallel to you.

“Ah, you’re awake,” you chirped, entering the room and closing the door behind you. You had half expected to find the room empty if Jeonghan had woken up alone while you went to grab something to eat.

Jeonghan remained rigid, looking at you as though afraid he might wake up from a dream again. His breathing was ragged, and his vision began to blur.

“I hope you don’t mind I took your wallet,” you said, leaving a paper bag on the chair as you removed the zipper hoodie from your shoulders. “And your hoodie.”

“Wh-what—how…” Jeonghan breathed, shaking with so many emotions at the same time it was hard to focus, it was hard for him to command the muscles of his mouth to demand the answers he needed to know.

You approached him carefully, rubbing your hands together as though anxious. “You passed out last night,” you explained, though that was obvious to him, he did not need you to say that. “And I took you here because I don’t know where you live. And I don’t have a home.”

Jeonghan took in a breath sharply, tears spilling from his eyes as he listened to your voice. He raised one hand slowly, carefully meeting your cheek to make sure you were not an illusion.

You began to worry, your eyebrows pinching together. “Was I gone too long?” you asked meaningfully, understanding that he was in shock.

Jeonghan nodded slowly, the pain in his heart pulsating when you grabbed his hand on your cheek, pressing it against your skin before you wrapped an arm around his torso, so he did the same, hugging you tightly to his body.

“I’m sorry,” you cooed softly, trying to swallow your tears as he sobbed in your arms.

“I missed you,” he muttered, his body wrapping you completely, his face hiding on the curve of your neck, his arms grabbing you tightly to the point the air started to leave your lungs.

Your heart deflated upon hearing the raw sadness in his voice. “I know,” you whispered, feeling the bond deep inside you pulsating, feeling everything he felt during these months of your absence.

“I buried you,” he whispered, shaking uncontrollably, his fingers curled around your clothes, trying to hold onto you to never let you go again.

You caressed his back gently as he shook with sobs. “I’m sorry,” you said, feeling guilty for the pain he endured while you were gone.

Jeonghan grabbed your face, still finding it hard to believe that you were there, and you were fine. “How?” he asked, his voice waning over the emotions coiling in his throat.

“I don’t know,” you whispered, circling his neck with your hands as he moved to press a long kiss on your forehead.

It did not matter, all the explanations in the world would fall short of explaining the relief Jeonghan felt. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” you said, knowing that there would be no resolution to this.

“It’s okay now,” he replied, pressing his forehead on yours.

“Jeonghan,” you muttered, pulling back to see his face before asking: “Tell me what happened, please.”

He went rigid with pain in an instant, but he nodded slowly, moving to sit down on the foot of the bed to avoid growing weak in his stance. You sat beside him, reaching for his hand as though you could not keep your hands to yourself.

“Do you remember the hunters?” he asked, waiting for your confirmation and he proceeded when you nodded silently. “And do you… remember what they did to you?”

Your gaze fell out of focus as you tried to conjure the memory of the moment before your death. The memories were fragments of pain and worry; you remembered some things, and those were enough. “Yes,” you said.

Jeonghan bristled in pain slightly, but continued despite it. “You were gone for three months,” he explained, the pain from your absence still felt recent, the wound still fresh. It was baffling to him that you were now here, as though nothing had happened.

“How am I back?” you asked slowly, furrowing your brow slightly. “What did you do, Jeonghan?”

He understood at once that you were worried about what he could have done for you to return scatheless, or so you thought.

“I…” he lowered his gaze, growing ashamed of himself. “I think I summoned you in my sleep.”

“Is that possible?” you asked. “I thought you needed to do a ritual to summon me.”

 “That’s the thing,” he raised his gaze again, shifting on the bed so he could face you better. “I don’t think that applies to people like us. I didn’t need to do a ritual, I just needed to call for you.”

“So you’re telling me that you did not say my name once for three months?”

Shame returned to his face, nodding silently without looking at your eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, his bottom lip trembling slightly. “I just couldn’t—it hurt so much,” he sighed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Hey,” you whispered, bringing a hand to cup his cheek, forcing his brown eyes to meet yours. “It’s okay,” you showed him a light smile. “You did what you had to do.”

His eyebrows pinched softly. “Can you forgive me?” he whispered.

You sat on your knees beside him, grabbing his face fully with your hands. “There is nothing to forgive, Jeonghan,” you said warmly, pushing his long bangs away from his face. “I’m fine, and I’m here thanks to you.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist to bring you down with him to the bed. “I can’t believe that you’re back,” he said with a tiny tone. “I thought I would never see you again.”

Meanwhile, you were still trying to digest the fact that he lived through three months of mourning and guilt, while you just closed your eyes and woke up in a clearing with flowers around you. Confused, but with one thought in mind: follow the thing that pulled you to him.

Jeonghan caressed the side of your face with the back of his fingers, looking at you longingly as the pain inside him deflated slowly. “You’re half human now,” he told you, remembering the look on your face the night before.

You nodded, enjoying the gentle shivers that his touch gave you. “It feels funny,” you giggled slightly. “I’m weaker now.”

Jeonghan mirrored your smile, his fingers trailing down to grab your chin. “I guess I should be careful with you now,” he whispered, meeting your lips with his own.

The kiss ignited every single inch of your skin, drawing out a small moan from you. And for Jeonghan, it felt like he was coming back to life too, his lips searching for yours hungrily, emitting a small grunt into your mouth that only made you want more. 

“Jeonghan,” you breathed when he stopped kissing you, but his lips lingered on yours.

“I missed you,” he replied in kind, his lips brushing against yours softly.

You moved your hand to caress his chest over the black t-shirt he wore. “Do you want to show me?” you mumbled, pressing a tender kiss on his lips.

He moved his hand from your chin to cradle your cheek, looking into your eyes. Jeonghan lost count of the times he wished to be this close to you again, to feel the warmth of your skin, to breathe in your scent. Unable to break away from you, he pressed your body to the mattress, climbing on top of you while kissing your lips hungrily.

You made a muffled sound on his lips, grabbing his face to pull him as close as possible to you. Kissing Jeonghan still felt electrifying, now that you were part-human. You were still able to sense him through the bond. Everything was the same except that your senses were slightly dimmed.

“What’s that?” Jeonghan mumbled between kisses.

“It feels different,” you breathed, grabbing his shoulders, feeling the edge of his collarbone with the pads of your thumbs.

“Different, how?” he asked, his gaze coasting over the features of your pretty face.

“Like the stronger part of me is numb,” you said, showing him a meek smile when the explanation felt ridiculous to you. But your smile faded, the glint in your eyes dimming a little. “I can’t see your soul anymore.”

Jeonghan tensed slightly on top of you. “You could see my soul?”

You nodded slowly, ashamed that you never told him while you were able to see that fiery flame dancing inside him. “Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s okay,” he replied in kind, realizing the reason behind the weird looks you would give him, you could see through him quite literally. “I wonder how many other things will be different now,” he said.

You would probably age closer to a normal rate now. You were part-human, you could fill your tummy with human food, and you were at risk of falling sick like humans but the probability of that could be minimal.

“You still like me, right?” you asked with a playful giggle.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, smiling with you. “Unfortunately, yes. I do,” he mumbled, lacing his words with sarcasm.

“How much?” you teased, enjoying that despite you were no longer able to see his soul, he was still an open book to you.

“Shut up,” he said, leaning over to press a tender kiss on your lips, muffling the sound of your giggle. “I love you,” he mumbled.

You closed your eyes, shuddering at the sound of his voice, the bond responding to it like a bolt of lightning shooting through you. “I love you more,” you replied sweetly, still grabbing his face with your hands.

At that, Jeonghan could have sworn that the pain he endured without you was cured. He released a groan into the kiss, his lips diving deeper into yours, only breaking away when your hands slipped beneath his t-shirt, and he helped you take it off.

He followed your body when you sat up on the bed to take your t-shirt off, and he quickly moved to take your jeans and panties just so he could have you wholly naked before him. There was no rush to relieve the pressure growing inside him, he just wanted to appreciate every curve of your body, to leave kisses on every inch of your warm skin.

And you could see that need in his eyes, it was visible how much he missed you. He stood on his knees before you, looking at you for one long moment. Your heart squeezed for him when you realized that, while you were delighted to explore the changes in your now partially human form, he was healing from the grief he felt when you were gone.

“Jeonghan,” you called, snapping him from the train of thoughts reeling in his mind. His eyes met yours. “Come here,” you said, raising your arms to wrap him in them when he pressed his bare chest against yours.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay,” you replied, parting your legs so he could slot his hips between them. You grabbed his cheek as he left one kiss on yours. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he gasped, moving his lips to leave a trail of kisses on your jawline, and your throat, humming when he realized that the scent of your skin remained the same. He delighted in the taste of your skin when he ran his tongue on one of your breasts, wrapping his lips around your pebbled nipple to tease it a little, just to hear the sweet sound of your moans.

“Jeonghan,” you sighed, bringing a hand to grab a fistful of his dark hair.

He hummed softly, his breath fanning on your bumpy skin as he moved to lick your other nipple, kissing it and grazing it lightly with his teeth. He pressed his lips on your sternum, resuming his trail of kisses down until he sank between your legs.

“Fuck,” you breathed, finding out that despite you were not at full power as you were, you were still very much sensitive. Your skin prickled when his hands slipped beneath your thighs, holding you as he placed the first kiss of many on your inner thigh.

Propping yourself on your elbows to look at him, he raised his eyes too, meeting yours right before licking a generous stripe on your folds. A shudder invaded you, reaching every nerve ending in your body, tearing apart your self-control. Your head lolled back, a pleased sigh escaping your lips as he worked his mouth on your pussy, practically making out with it.

The sensation was near-euphoric. It made your mind go blank. It left you breathless in an instant. You suddenly felt the weight of your absence, as if your body was gently reminding you that you had gone without his touch, even if you had not been aware of it. But a part of you was sure that you never wanted to go another day without his caress.

“Jeonghan,” you called breathily, running your fingers through his long hair, letting his tongue lap between your folds, drinking you in with raw moans.

Your orgasm came fast, faster than you wanted. Your jaw went slack with a loud moan, shuddering hard as he continued eating your pussy out, watching you come undone with lewd gasps until you let your body fall back on the mattress to enjoy the short aftershocks of your climax.

When he climbed back on top of you to kiss your mouth, you moaned when you tased yourself on his lips. Reaching for the belt of his jeans, you swiftly finished undressing him, not hiding how badly you needed him.

“Hey,” he breathed, touching the tip of your nose with his own. Your eyes met his as he lowered his bare body on yours, pressing his chest against yours.

You sighed, skin prickling when you felt his hard dick on your lower tummy as he kissed you again. “Jeonghan,” you moaned into the kiss. “Hurry.”

He obliged, smiling lightly at you before sneaking his hand between your pressed bodies, grabbing his fully hard cock to guide it to your pussy. His eyes swam all over the features of your face, nudging the bulbous head of his cock in your pooling entrance.

Your mouth parted, eyes widening in anticipation when you felt him. “Please,” you mouthed, bracing yourself for the electrifying feeling.

He swallowed hard, starting to sink inside you tortuously slow, delighting himself with the look on your face, the way a gasp left your mouth. You instinctively parted your legs for him, lifting your knees to your chest for him to push inside you to the hilt, and when he did, he released a raw moan.

Jeonghan pulled his hips back, to then push his cock in your walls slowly, as if testing you. He looked at you as he sheathed his cock inside you making you feel every raw inch, the vein in the underside of his shaft, the bulbous cockhead. He breathed out a broken moan, his face contorting in pleasure.

Jeonghan moved his hips, setting a faster pace on top of you when he made sure you had adjusted to the stretch of his cock. The smacking sounds of skin against skin became louder as he quite literally pounded on you, knocking the air out of your lungs with short gasps.

“Jeonghan,” you breathed, squeezing your eyes shut as you swore that you would burst from the pleasure building inside you.

As though on command, he slowed down the rutting of his hips. He breathed fitfully against your lips, leaning his forehead on yours as he kept his thrusts gentle on you, massaging your walls slowly with his cock. “You feel so good,” he whispered, swallowing hard.

“You too,” you sighed, feeling his scarred chest with your palms, keeping your knees up for him to sink his cock deeper inside you. “So good.”

Jeonghan shook slightly, lifting his hips so his cock slipped out of you, paused, and then sheathed himself back inside you, making you feel the length of his cock, every ridge beneath his bulbous cockhead, the warmth of the base of his cock. He smiled when you moaned, gritting your teeth to hold out for him, but pleasure consumed you quickly.

“Baby,” he whispered, framing your head with his arms before leaning to kiss you. “I love you.”

It felt like his dreams came alive to haunt him in real life because for a split second, he was fearful again that this might not be real. But you moaned into the kiss, holding his shoulders with your hands to keep yourself in control. “I love you,” you breathed.

He locked his lips with yours, moaning into the kiss, keeping his thrusts at the same pace that was pushing you to the edge.

“I’m close,” you gasped, pinching your eyebrows almost involuntarily.

Jeonghan planted a loving kiss on your cheek. “Let go, baby,” he whispered. “I’ll come after you.”

“Come with me?” you mumbled.

He smiled at you. “We need to be careful now,” he whispered, pushing his lips against yours tenderly.

“I don’t want to,” you said in defiance, caressing the line of his back until your hands reached his ass, palming him as he pushed his cock inside you.

He laughed lightly, ignoring your feeble attempt at trapping him with your hands. “Do you want me to come inside you?”

You nodded eagerly, unable to speak up, keeping yourself angled for his cock massaging your walls. 

Jeonghan knew he had struck a weak point for you. He kissed you again, this time swiftly and chastely. “You wicked thing,” he breathed, pressing another kiss. “Want me to stuff you full of my cum?”

“Fuck, yes, yes, please,” you closed your eyes, inching closer to your orgasm.

He gave you an airy laugh, and you would have paid attention to it if it were not for the merciless shudder consuming you wholly. You cried out loudly as waves of pleasure washed over you, the pleasure so intense that your eyes brimmed with tears. “Jeonghan…”

Jeonghan reached to grab your hands, lacing your fingers with his, and putting them above your head as the pace of his thrusts became faster, harder. He moaned your name, making you think that he was coming with you, stuffing you full of his cum.

But then he pulled out with a raw groan, pushing his forehead against yours as he came on your tummy, ropes of warm cum spilling on your skin, dripping on your sides, trickling down your skin.

Not giving you the opportunity to protest, he kissed you. But you whined impishly in his mouth, making him laugh and press your hands on the pillows with more strength, easily overpowering you.

He stopped kissing you, pausing to look at your face. Once he saw you pouting, he started to laugh, his chest shaking against yours.

You tried to ignore what the sound of his laughter did to you. “You pulled out!” you whined, trying to free your hands from his grasp.

“We don’t know what could happen now that you’re human,” he replied with a dazzling smile.

Maybe he was right, but you just wanted to see that smile, to hear that laugh again so you continued with your childish act. “So what?”

He gave you an airy chuckle. “So what if I get you pregnant? Is that what you want?” he asked, but then something inside him shifted with the realization that it might be something you wanted.

“Maybe,” you replied, your gaze dimming but then you shook your head. “One day. Perhaps. I don’t know.”

He thought of coming up with a quippy response, but the feeling in his chest would not allow him. “Let’s get cleaned up,” he muttered.

After showering, Jeonghan sat at the foot of the bed, half-dressed and drying his long hair with a towel. He raised his eyes as you exited the tiny bathroom of the motel room, approaching him to stand between his parted knees.

“I bought us breakfast. With your money,” you smirked, putting your hands on his shoulders.

Jeonghan’s features broke into a smile. “That sounds great,” he replied, leaving aside the towel and grabbing one of your hands to press a kiss on your knuckles.

Then he gave you a look. One that spoke of months of thinking about you every day, of thinking about what he could have done with you. Life seemed so fragile to him, so fleeting after he lost you, that he kept thinking of the things he would have done differently. And now, you stood before him, a dream come true, the one wish he asked life to grant him.

“What?” you mumbled.

Jeonghan blinked repeatedly when you brought your hand to his forehead, pushing his bangs away. He smiled. “Do you like flowers?” 

› author's note: so this kind of just happened. i am obsessed with these two 😭 and can you guys believe that i wrote my first major character death scene ever because of this series? insane

toodles

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© RIGHTS RESERVED TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[captain-joongz]

summer recap/favourite fics/fic recommendations for the first half of 2024!

Pretty flushed by @holybibly

♡ 2 parts, wolf!hwa x rabbit!reader x wolf!joong, a/b/o, smut smut smut, a little dark

Industry baby by @kitten4sannie

♡ mingi x reader x joong, rock band au, cuckold play, bf!mingi and bandmate!joong

Arriba! + Freak! by @teeskzagain

♡ f!reader x joong, yunho, san, woo and mingi, college au, a lot of smut, sex under the influence, ateez are absolute pervs, "the boardgame made us do it"

7 minutes of compensation by @k-hotchoisan

♡ hwa x f!reader x yunho, frat!teez, threesome

in the wings by @sanjoongie

♡ rapppers hwa and joong x f!reader, backstage pass, smut, double penetration, groupie au

Case: It's you by @potatomountain

♡ ot8 x f!reader, e2l, police au, workplace romance, investigative and horny ;)

Inception by @remedyx

♡ a repeat from the last list, but it's sooo good, go check it out!!

The happiest girl in the world by @holybibly

♡ camboy!hwa x f!reader, private call, smut, streamer x fan au

February filth fest 2024 day 13: Uniform by @sanjoongie

♡ new captain!hwa x former captain!reader, mutiny au, scifi, mean dom hwa, humiliation and degradation

February filth fest 2024 day 21: aphrodisiacs/overstim by @sanjoongie

♡ alien!joong x human!reader, alien poison as an aphrodisiac, oviposition

Ugh, as if by @ennysbookstore + Ugh, as if - bonus

♡ punk!joong x f!reader, joong works with leather, cute and hot, joong helps reader overcome insomnia with some good old-fashioned orgasms

Look after you by @mingigoo

♡ musician!joong x nurse!reader, a little angsty, but with a sweet ending, smut

Plug & Play by @bangtanintotheroom

♡ guitarist!joong x f!reader, rock band au, s2l, backstage sex, reader is horny and hongjoong is hot

this ask by @nateezfics

♡ sex with angry joong, bratty reader

Honey and blood by @nateezfics

♡ vampire!joong x maid!reader, dark but sweet, smut with feels

10:11 : féconder by @yeosgoa

♡ assistant!joong x witch!reader, academia au, accidental aphrodisiacs, desperate joong under the influence of a sex potion

cross my heart by @doitforbangchan

♡ brother's best friend!joong x f!reader, dark, yandere joong, he's very manipulative, dubcon/noncon, sex under the influence

February filth fest 2024 day 4: public sex by @sanjoongie

♡ cowboy!san x wise woman!reader, wild west au, san is injured, san is head over heels for reader, save a horse ride a cowboy ;)

no hesitation by @daemour

♡ fratboy!san x f!reader, bff2l, college party au, misunderstandings, fools in love, smut

February filth fest 2024 day 23: breeding kink by @sanjoongie

♡ kitty hybrid!woo x f!reader, rut sex, cumplay, bratty woo

deliver us from evil by @holybibly

♡ priest!woo (or is he???) x f!reader, hierophilia, sacrilege, church sex, very dark, rough sex and humiliation

IT's You by @shinestarhwaa

♡ debate team au, college au, e2l, mean woo, rough sex

Right here by @0097linersb

♡ bff!woo x f!reader, pervy woo who wants to fuck his bff, very sexually frustrated reader

My library | BTS fic recs

[thatnonameuser]

abt ur yandere twst au; do darlings get kidnapped for ransom? For example: would people kidnap Leona’s darling in order to get ransom (they’d be killed instead)?

Want a rich yandere to freak the fuck out the moment they realise their darling is missing and give you more money than you know what to do with, which is actually a bluff, because you’re actually going to die from extensive torture once their darling is safe? Kidnap their darling, your wallet and grave will thank you.

But yes, it does happen. Which is why wealthy yanderes take very severe precautions.

I’ve mentioned before that Kalim’s father has taken some very morally black methods to protect his darling and his kids from kidnappers. (here if you’re interested). But if a darling is kidnapped for ransom and their lives are threatened, the kidnapper better have the entire universe on their side because they’re as good as dead.

Yanderes don’t mess around. They’ll pay whatever fee they have to, nothing is too high. But as soon as the darling’s safe, the yandere will stain their hands in blood. 

So at the trade off for the darling, expect that once you’re back in their arms, the kidnapper is dead. Deader than dead, not even a shred remains. If the yandere doesn’t kill them, then they hire assassins. If they do kill them, then it’s just that much worse for the kidnapper. They’re not getting out of this alive.

Also because I’m feeling nice. Enjoy some semi-imagines with the rich boys of TWST having MC get kidnapped and their reaction to it.

Leona Kingscholar

Pissed. Very pissed. He may not be king but that doesn’t excuse the guards not doing their god damn jobs and keeping you safe. (He will be more angry if he finds out that Falena’s wife didn’t get kidnapped and you did, just throwing gasoline onto the fire.) And to make matters worse, they’re threatening to kill you. Well, they’re fucking dead.

Leona may be angry but he’s still smart. He isn’t risking letting anything happen to you, so he’ll play along until he can guarantee that you’re safe before killing whoever had the balls to kidnap you. And since he’s a prince, he can bend the law to get you back. The beastman’s coming for you himself, and he’ll turn anyone that threatens you to grains of sand under his palm. 

After he gets you back, he’s not going to let you out of his sight. And if he has to, he’s always going to be nearby. His rage hasn’t calmed down at all either. Plain and simple, you’re his and anyone that gets in the way of that deserves a slow death, and the fact that he nearly lost you is weighing on him. 

Before getting you back - Furious, ready to kill and reduce whoever's stolen you to sand.

After getting you back - Still angry, you're not leaving his sight or going near anyone that's not him.

Kalim Al-Asim

Sunshine boy’s panicking. Like completely panicking. He’s been kidnapped before and (while that’s a can of worms for another day), you haven’t gone through something so scary before. To him, he thinks that  you must be so terrified, surrounded by strangers that want to hurt you for something as shallow as money.

So after Jamil calms him down enough to think rationally, he begs for his help to save you. After all, you’re in terrible danger and he’s ready to throw as much money as he has to save you if need be but he doesn’t want to risk them trying again in the future. Plus he’s the hair of the Asim family, he might get kidnapped or killed too and then who will protect you.

So sending assassins is to foil their operation, and bring you home is the best bet. And they’re the best money can buy.

You’ll probably be a little shaken when you come home, and a little bit of kidnapper blood might be on your skin, but it's nothing a nice bath and a fest won't cure. Just expect to constantly be followed around by a team of at least six bodyguards. Or maybe Najma. Just know that Kalim is considering taking after dear old dad.

Before getting you back - Kalim's worried to death about not seeing you again. Or you getting hurt. 

After getting you back - He's gone over-protective not allowing you to ever go missing or get hurt ever again. He'll take the morally gray way out if he needs to, but he can’t bear to risk losing you.

Vil Schoenheit

If he gets stress wrinkles because of this, he’ll make sure that the kidnappers suffer even more. Vil’s used to threats of kidnapping, the fact the imbeciles actually went through with it is brave. Incredibly stupid, but brave. Regardless, he’s losing his mind with worry and anger. His fans are deranged, he’s worried for your safety. 

To Vil’s benefit, he has Rook. And Rook’s UM is basically goated when it comes to locating someone not meant to be found. So obviously, Rook goes to get you with orders from Vil to bring your kidnappers back with you for him to deal with. 

Vil will do his best to keep this crisis away from the media. He doesn’t need for you to be mobbed by the press, so expect a delightful trip to an isolated, relaxing and aesthetically pleasing vacation somewhere in the Shaftlands to protect you. But that relaxing little trip, is also so he can torture those imbeciles for the rest of their miserable little lives. He may not like portraying a villain but he’ll be one if he’s pushed. Besides, Rook will happily take care of the bodies. 

He’ll calm down after you’re out of harm's way, but anticipate that he won't ever let you out in public without him or someone he trusts with you.

Before getting you back - Pissed with a poker face. He’s worried for your well-being, and if a hair is harmed on your head, he’ll snap.

After getting you back - He’ll calm down, but he’ll start to be very protective. Don’t ask him about the screams you might hear in the basement of where you’re staying when he’s not with you, it’s nothing important.

Neige LeBlanche

One of the prices of fame. Neige is horrified that someone would try to take you to take advantage of him. Honestly, he would have rather been the one whose life was held on the line than have you brought into the mess. Neige has never been more scared in his entire life.

Obviously, he’ll get you back. Hand off the money and everything, but he’s not happy about those ‘villains’ going unpunished for scaring you like that. As soon as he’s sure that you’ll be safe and sound. He’ll go to the press to tell his heartbreaking story.

So que the imminent waterworks to the paparazzi. After all, he knows they’ll be immediately moved. Neige’s most precious one, his darling, had their life threatened and he was terrified that he wouldn’t get you back before it’s too late. 

His fans do the rest. 

On the impromptu vacation Neige took you on to help you recover from the experience, (or more specifically, the trip to a very isolated location where you both can be alone with no kidnappers in sight) Neige will receive some ‘fan mail’ with the remains of the perpetrators. He won’t show you though, you’ve been through so much recently. 

Before getting you back - He's so scared for you. You're his princess he can't bear to lose you for even a second. So having you gone is a nightmare.

After getting you back - Relieved. He's so happy to have you back. You're never leaving his side again. He's a little peeved that someone tried to disrupt your happily ever after, but they’re no longer breathing so who cares. 

Idia Shroud

Panic attack. Instant Panic attack, Ortho better have Baymax functions because he’s gonna pass out in panic. How the hell did this even happen?! He has drones following you constantly! 

After he has his panic attack, he’s burning red in anger. How dare they?! How fucking dare they?! He’s putting all his energy into figuring out every last thing about your kidnappers’ lives. He’ll find you, obviously. And then he’ll send S.T.Y.X after them to return you home while he ruins their entire lives. Then he'll kill those noobs so that he sends a message.

As soon as you’re back, he’s a sobbing wreck. He’s already lost Ortho, he can’t lose you too. You won’t be leaving his room while he has his pity party. And you probably shouldn’t because it’ll just make him feel even worse. Comfort him a bit, will ya?

Before getting you back - A whirlwind of panic and anger. He’s in doxxing mode, man. Your kidnappers better be prepared to suffer for a while, before he gets merciful and kills them.

After getting you back - Tears, so many tears. And he’ll be a koala with how clingy he’ll be. 

Malleus Draconia

Whichever kidnapper thought this was a good idea needs to get their brain checked because it’s currently missing. The exact second Malleus realizes the danger you’re in, he’s turning into a dragon to find and save you and then kill the kidnappers in a raging inferno. Forget stopping to plan or temporarily co-operating, the man’s gone to find you before the ransom letter hits the floor. (Sure there’s the threat of iron, but he doesn’t care you’re in danger.)

In a word, he’s furious. In a lot of words, he’s so angry that a category five hurricane has started outside to reflect his rage. If even a hair is missing from your head, he’s probably going to lose it. Gotta love that he’s enchanted all your jewelry to serve as tracking devices. Because he’s there in under an hour, burning your kidnappers to death till nothing remains. After that, it’s back home to put you into a tower so heavily fortified and reinforced that a fly couldn’t accidentally get through the door. 

Once you’re safe, the sadness kicks in. He can’t bear to lose you ever. So the fact that he let his guard down enough to nearly let you be killed is breaking him. His entire purpose is to protect and love you, and he’s failed in that, so please do your best to reassure him that you’re not going to leave him, he’s had a hard ten minutes. 

Oh, but don’t expect to go outside for the next year though once you do. He’s not exactly under the impression that you won’t be taken from him again. So he’s going to be even more clingy and protective.

Before getting you back - Angry, infuriated, vengeful. He's killing someone today and it's going to be one or all of your kidnappers. 

After getting you back - Sad dragon hours. He's craving reassurance and your love to make himself feel better. Give him cuddles, please.

[xxanaduwrites]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚ ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

teachin’ a lesson

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which benny teaches the newbies a lesson ‘bout messin’ with his honey….😤 + a super cute ending ofc 💋

warnings: an absolute smack fest, the whole shabang: bar fight, dudes being creeps, talks of violence, blood, & injury. hyperventilating & shaking. unwanted advances :(

author’s note: another angst piece. couldn’t help myself…but this will be ending with a certain request i keep receiving ;) this is from the goin’ steady segment which can be found on da main hive, so they are fully dating here for time line & context purposes…or are they? 👀

word count: 4.2k

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You were at the club when it happened. It being something you could only daydream about. Something you never actually expected to come tumbling out of Benny’s pretty pillowy lips.

It was a regular day — as regular as one could ever be at the club. The boys were havin’ a meeting and of course Benny dragged you along. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go. Hey — you’d been to plenty of meetings. Yet, your two cents only became required when the other guys' old ladies were involved, and today wasn’t one of those days. Being the only lady currently on the premises, you dropped your backpack on the bar, the sound of your keychains reverberating around the space with a chorus of clanks. A chorus you hadn’t noticed caught the eye of some other bikers mulling around. In your defense, you were far too focused on your man, his baby blue eyes drooping down at you with a precious pout to match.

“M’sorry, honey,” he said suddenly, eyes trained on you as y’sat your sweet butt on one of the nearby bar stools.

His apology took you by surprise, and your fingers which were now fiddling about on the zippers of your backpack paused momentarily. “For wha?” You asked, tilting your head to observe him.

“Takin’ y’here. Not bringin’ y’straight home,” he admitted, in the midst of flagging over the bartender with a flick of his finger. “Shouldn’t take too long though.”

You sighed. “S’fine, Benny. S’not like I can’t make myself busy,” you reasoned, motioning to your backpack in front of you that held all your work supplies. “Stap it with t’pologizing.”

It wasn’t Benny’s fault that he had a meeting to be at fresh after school hours. It was more your fault for not knowing how to drive. But you knew he didn’t care so much about that. He cared more about making sure you were safe and spending as much time with you as possible. And those rides well — they assured all of that. He didn’t have to worry about you waitin’ to take a random bus full of creeps. Didn’t have to wonder about the next time he’d be seeing you because surely it would be every day on your morning and afternoon drives, right?

So be it. Here you were, and you wouldn’t complain — no. You wanted to be with Benny just as much. And besides, the more time you spent at home, the more your parents were concerning you with their honey business, keeping you away from the lesson planning you really needed to do. Benny — bless his heart — was such a good sport with that. Giving you the space you needed — well while simultaneously taking it all up. You couldn’t deny how much you adored being perched next to him, tucked in a booth at Rosie’s diner, his arm slung around your shoulder. His pretty blue eyes would stare at you so intently, watching every little move you made and god was it so hard to concentrate sometimes. Yet, he made you feel so comfortable. Too comfortable, uncoiling the ball of stress that’d become you anytime you found yourself swapping or changing plans. He was so good. So attentive. Oh the thought alone was making your cheeks dust pink.

A brow raised in intrigue as he popped a fresh cig in his mouth, his smile curving around the cylinder too perfectly. “Wha?” He asked, catching the not-so-subtle shift in your features, now doused in burnin’ love.

“S’nothin’.” You shrugged and bit down on your lip, the taste of your vanilla honey lip gloss hitting your taste buds.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, eyeing you up and down for a second. A second that proved he knew it wasn’t nothing. Knew it was very much something. But, he wasn’t gonna find out. No, not with the bartender finally sauntering over and putting your conversation to a halt.

“Hay, you two,” the man greeted. Marty to be exact. He swiped a dishrag over his shoulder and dropped his hands on the counter in front of him before asking. “What’ll it be? The usual whiskey and shirley?” He asked, knowing both of your orders by heart.

“Nah, a beer’s fine,” he replied, his answer taking you by a hint of surprise, but you figured it was because he was taking you home right after. Home to your mother and father. But you didn’t want to assume. You knew Benny was well — Benny. That he didn’t care what anybody thought about him. Could give two shits about it. Yet, when it came to you — oh he couldn’t stand anyone that thought less of you. Sure, he’d still be drinking, but he hadn’t picked the harder option of the two, and hey — you understood. I mean it wasn’t like you’d be here for the night, hanging out, shooting the shit, and playing pool like a normal weekend. Hell — it was the middle of the week. An absolute bummer to say the least. “Honey?” He summoned you, swiping you right out of your thoughts.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Shook your head even, making your dangling earrings shimmy about. “Hm, yeah?”

“Y’alright?” Benny asked, his leather clad arm snaking around your back, calloused fingers hugging your side.

“M’fine. Sorry, didn’t mean to miss what y’said,'' you replied sheepishly, mind wandering all over the place. “What y’say anyways, hm?”

Benny bit down a smile then, enjoying the way your litftle nose scrunched up in pure thought. “‘Tender askin’ for your order,” he reminded.

“Oh, right! Ya, I’ll just have a plain ale, Marty.” You told him, motioning your hand about. Delicate fingers traced the air, pink ballet slipper polish doing its usual dance on your nails.

“Y’sure your alright?” Benny asked again, clearly unconvinced as Marty left you two with a solid nod, already working on your order. Benny was really good at reading you. Too good. The more he spent time with you, the easier it was for him to understand you. Knowing that you were a quite talkative and bubbly person, always so attentive to what everybody was saying, it was unusual for you to be so out of touch.

“M’sure, baby. Just thinkin’ ‘bout my plans, y’know?” You assured him, opening up your daily planner simultaneously. A vibrant array of colorful sticky pads and gelly pens jumped off the pages as you flipped through to your desired date.

“I see, I see,” Benny’s lips turned up soundly, the sight of your school books always getting a kick out of him. You were just too cute with your pretty pens and neat cursive, pencils always sticking out of your sunny updo. The passion you put in your work always felt so reminiscent of the way he felt ridin’. It was hard not to love you the most when you were in your element. “Meetin’ starting soon, so I’ll leave ya to it, Honey. But M’gonna take a piss quick. Be back for my drink.” He told you, but then asked, “Y’watch?”

“Course,” you smiled up at him, as his fingers trailed across your back, leaving your hold. And then he was off and across the room, saying something to Johnny before excusing himself completely. And you — you had your nose in your books, skimming the pages with precision, tuning out the rest of the world around you. So much so that you hadn’t noticed the drinks in front of you nor the ogglings newbies eating up your form until you did.

“Wha’s a lil’thing like you doin’, ere’?” One asked, perched to your left, an elbow knocking over your pencil case.

Before you could reply another took purchase on your right, caging you in. The stranger picked up one of your colorful pens and chuckled. “Y’know this ain’t the library, right sweet’eart?” He mused, a warm breath reeking of alcohol hitting your neck and tickling your nose.

“I —“ you began, but got cut off immediately by the original guy. The one on the left of this supposed sandwich you were entrapped in.

“S’no use Hank. Whad’a she know besides this frilly shit, aye,” he laughed, degradindly. “Y’wanna know somethin’ rough, somethin’ real, sweet’eart? Gotta itch y’need to scratch?”

You felt small. So small against these men, that you usually — oddly enough felt tall around. But no, these men weren’t your boys. Just men. Some trickling back from war. Most spawned from new chapters, doped up on things you’d never seen before. Doped up on an image and level that you didn’t know. A level you’d never match. And they didn’t like that, no — not one bit. You in your sweet savory appearance was no match against these rowdy men that didn’t know better. Didn’t know the club the way you did. The way Johnny did. The way Brucie did. The way Benny, Cal, Corky, Wahoo, Cockroach, and Zipco did. Even Funny Sonny!

“I — M’good. No thank ya,” you managed out, still startled by this whole display.

“Ahh, c’mom…know y’need it. S’just a lil’scrtach,” one of them kept going. Which one you weren’t sure, but whoever it was wasn’t taking no for an answer. Suddenly a rough hand was grabbing you and before you could react the stool went spinning around. Your vision blurred in an instant, a yelp escaping you at the contact. The bar became a fizzy of light and color, deep mahogany wood meshing into the cottony blend of your clouded eyes…

Pop!

If it weren’t for a bar of bikers being present, you would’ve thought a balloon had popped in front of your eyes, maybe even a bag of popcorn. But no — it was the man, the man who had just grabbed you, and now as your hand braced the bar behind you, your stool settled down, your vision evening out, you could see him. As clear as day, he was smack on the ground. Flat on his back. Face being knocked about. Back and forth. Up and down. Fists to skin against bone. Fists — upon your further inspection and descent across the man’s form — to be Benny. Your Benny. Pinning the man down and going at him in full force.

“Oh — Benny!” You hollered in distress when the man got a swing at him suddenly, your feet planting down on the ground in an instant without a second thought.

Of course, to your dismay, you didn’t get far. An arm materialized around your waist in an instant and pulled you back to them. And if it wasn’t for the familiar fringes of a certain jacket swinging against your sides — sparkly jewels of your own design shining in your peripheral vision — you would have fought. “S’not safe for ya, Cuz. Let ‘em at it,” Funny Sonny mumbled in your ear, the sound of his voice relaxing you as much as it could. Grateful to be in the arms of someone you knew instead of that of a strange man had you slipping without a second thought.

Eyes darting all around, your gaze lost Benny in the shuffle of it all. To the looks of it, all the newbies darted after Benny after the first swing and well — the oldies were not having that. Not one bit. What you’d come to learn later was that Benny had already been trudging across the way with a look to kill, his fist connecting with the man’s face not even a second after the man grabbed you. Another second that could’ve been too late upon anyone else’s action. Punch after punch, blow after blow, you could see them. All of them. Johnny in a wrestle with one guy, Brucie trying to block Marty and bar from any advances, Cal holding another up against a nearby wall by the collar, Zipco swiping a rando out with one hit and then sipping his beer ever-so casually, Corky and Wahoo slamming around with these other two guys near the pool table — a ball of two cracking in the process, and Cockroach being Cockroach.

With too much to process, you tried to remain steady against Sonny, but your tremblin’ became obvious. Too obvious to him under his dirt driven finger tips. “Sh, S’all good. They’ll cool down,” he assured. Of course he was right.

Breathless and exhausted, one by one the men broke apart. Panting with their hands on their knees. And then there was Benny, the last of the bunch — still pulling throws at the man under him, face soaked in a deep crimson, what features could be present?

“Benny — aye, Benny…’nough,” Johnny was calling him, pulling him up by his feet like a rag doll. “Y’lesson learned.” He mumbled in Benny’s ears hoping it would do the trick.

Benny only wrenched forward just a bit, Johnny’s hand flattening against his chest to keep him in place. Instead of keeping the physical assault going, he opted to be vocal. “Y’stay ‘way from my wife, y’here?” He spit out ever-so suddenly. Too suddenly that if Sonny wasn’t holding you back you would have fallen to the floor in complete and utter shock. Wife? Wife! Had he really just said what you thought he said? “If I see ya ever lift a finger, even look in ‘er direction again, i’ll kill ya.” He gritted out, sending a stillness across the club.

“I —“ the man choked on the ground, trying to get his words out, but failing with a breathless huff. “I did—didn’t —“

“We uh — we didn’t know she was y’wife, man. Sorry,” the other dude that had been flanked at your side earlier spoke up, who you assumed to be Hank confirming that your ears had in fact been working. That you hadn’t been imagining things after all. He had said what you thought he said, and now well — now you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“Now y’do,” he grumbled, and with one last look down at the crimson smeared man below him, he made his statement known with a solid spit.

The show was over as soon as it came, Benny turning out of Johnny’s hold. Johnny patted him on the back before he walked away. Away towards you. Only you. Johnny was saying something. Making an announcement of sorts about you when Sonny’s grip on you was released. Without a word you fumbled into Benny’s side, your makeup coded face smudging into his vest jacket as his arm curled around you. So warm. So protective. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes snapped closed as you made your way outdoors, the sound of the bar door swinging confirming your relocation. His boots stopped scruffing against the pavement and your ballet flats planted as soon as he did.

You turned in his hold, pawing, gripping at him. An unusual display of yourself before him, detached from the strong independent bubble you’d built around yourself. But he took you in. Into his hold as you snuggled deeply into his chest, practically crawling inside his colors with the two sides draped over your shoulders. His strong arms wrapped around your back without a second thought, pulling you in further, deeper, closer. Yet, you never felt close enough. Not like this that is….

“M’right ‘ere, baby. Right ‘ere.” He mumbled into the honeydew mop of curls at the top of your head.

“Aye were — he was s’close to…to…” you stammered into his chest. “an — and my p—pens..”

“I kno — I,” Benny grimaced, words catching in his throat by your addition. “Wha’ ‘bout your pens, baby?” Instead of replying you just nuzzled your face further into his chest. “Hm?” He pushed, worn fingers threading fallen strands of your hair out of your face so he could look at you. “Y’tell ya Benny, Honey?”

Looking up at him, your eyes glossed over, a light sniffle escaping you. You were too stunned to cry, but shaken enough to feel emotional all over. “One of ‘em p—pushed my pencil case o—over. Think some of ‘em f—fell behind the bar. Saw my fav—favorite pink one…” you hiccuped, words all over the place but coherent enough for Benny to understand what you were stammering about.

He found your worry over your school supplies to be real wholesome. Here you were coming off of the high of almost being attacked, and you were more worried about your work than yourself. Just went to show how much passion you put into your craft, and oh did he just love you for that.

He had to suppress a laugh, had to stop himself from smiling when you were clearly so upset. “M’sure Marty will find it, baby.” He bit down on his lip soundly and then added, “Not, I’ll buy ya a whole bunch a’new ones. Y’never realize ya lost one, yeah?”

“Y—yeah,” you nodded, the smooth skin of your face moving against his warm palms.

He knew you wouldn’t have lost one to begin with. Not if he was there. Not if he hadn’t left ya for just a minute. Not if he would’ve been more claimin’ near the bar, holding you closer. Kissin’ ya before he walked away. His biggest fears had come to fusion. The thoughts of you being creeped on were always on his mind, and yet here he was. At the club. A place he felt safe in. A place he thought you’d be safest in. Of course there weren’t any thoughts behind those baby blue eyes of his when it came to making them know you were his. He never had to after all. It was obvious in the way he looked at you. Everybody knew — well everyone before the newbies came along. And the newbies, who he’d hoped would be better than that towards the ladies, proved to be otherwise.

You tiny fingers reached up, splaying over his large hands in solace and breaking his thoughts tenfold. “How’s y’hands?” You asked, urging them lower so you could inspect them.

His knuckles were battered and bruised. Raw to the touch and he didn’t even flinch when your fingers ghosted over his burning skin. “M’fine,” he assured you, and he was fine. As fine as he could be. Barely a scratch on his face was present, just a small splash of blood dried up on the bridge of his nose. Blood of the other guy who’d been sputtering below him.

“Wha’ about you? Tha’ bastard didn’t grab ya too hard, did ‘e?” He gritted, his fingers meticulously trailing down your sides and pawing at the edges of your shirt.

“Nah, nah,” you shook your head in earnest. “S’quick, couldn’t even leave a dent.”

“Tha’ right?” he double checked, pleased to know he swooped in just in time.

“Mhm,” you hummed, your finger finding a lone string from one of his patches, clearly losing its stitch. You twirled the material ‘round your little finger, making a note to patch it up for him later on. “Y’gonna tell me wha’ that was all ‘bout anyways?” You began, not giving much context on the matter, but not thinking you had to. The elephant in the room — well now outside — was obvious. Far too obvious to ignore.

“‘Bout what?” He asked innocently, blue eyes sparkling so much that he had to look down and busy himself with his pocket. Paw out a new cigarette to stop himself from giving you a look that would reveal it all. “Had to teach ‘em a lesson. Learned from the best.” He mused, drawing a cheeky smile out of you with his obvious flirting.

But your thoughts gnawed at you, so much so that your lips tightened into a thin line. “Y’know….” you trailed off, a shyness taking over you. You kept your eyes on the string, finding it easier to talk about such a matter this way. “The whole bein’ married thang…M’not your wife, y’know?” You shrugged casually as if it wasn’t such a life changing notion.

“I know…” he mumbled just as nonchalantly. Too nonchalantly, you figured the entire conversation was canned. Never to be open again, but no — to your surprise he kept it open. “Not yet at least…” he mused and your heart lurched in your chest. Catapulted even. No one ever saw Benny as the marryin’ type. One to settle down and start a life. But here he was, pitchin’ just that in a beat. A beat that had you questionin’ for a second or two if he was messing with ya.

“Benny…” you warned, a twinkle dotting your eye as a smirk managed to scoot through your lips. “Y’Wouldn't dare pull my leg, would ya?” You asked, nibble fingers pulling out his lighter and hitting the end of his cig for him.

“Nah…Nah. M’serious,” he exhaled, a cloud of smoke swirling around you two, making y’dizzy. Looked like you were gonna need a smoke now too. Was perfect timing truly, catching him trying to rip off one his rings from his swollen fingers, the cigarette dangly dangerous from his lips. Swallowing the lump that was forming in your throat from eyeing his action, your mind buzzing about with assumption, you didn’t hesitate to shakily draw the cylinder from his lips, taking your own drag of the thing. “Fuckin’ hell…” he groaned, almost losing his patience until his pinky ring slid off with one last nudge. “‘Ere,” he motioned then to your vacant finger. A finger you hadn't realized was itching for a ring longer than anticipated. Longer than your childhood daydreams could ever imagine. “Y’wanna get hitched, baby?”

Too stunned to speak, your cheeks dusted the same shade of bright pink, mirroring your pretty pen tossed behind the bar somewhere. Holding out your hand to him, you nodded in confirmation. Making it known to him that you wanted this. Wanted him.

“S’not pretty…” he huffed, slipping the bulky thing on your little finger. “but, it’ll do f’now. Until I get ya a betta one.”

“Oh Benny, no!” You chirped, cheeks hurting from smiling so hard at the comically large ring. “S’perfect. So perfect!” You assured him, popping the cig back in his mouth before wrapping your arms around his neck in pure excitement. You couldn’t care less about one of those big rocks. A flashy piece your fellow teachers would come in with just to flaunt. Money didn’t matter to you like that, not as much as love. And you loved the fact you’d be wearing a piece of Benny’s jewelry on your finger. A symbol of himself practically adorned to you. It was beautiful. So beautiful.

His eyes widened in shock, a laugh escaping against an unusually big grin, reverberating against your chest like the sweetest song. “Now who’s the one pulling legs?” He joked, dropping the cigarette you’d been sharing to the ground and putting it out with his boot.

“Oh shut it,” you mused, pulling him down by the collar of his shirt for a kiss which he obliged. His lips molded against yours like honey — thick, sweet, and oh-so smooth. And he was all over you, buzzing you up from head to toe, stinging your neck with peppering kisses as his hands grabbed your behind like he was kneading the dough of a honey bun. In his defense you were his honey bun, and now you’d always be by law. By marriage. By love. And god did you two just love eachother so. Kept whispering it into the smokey air like a decree.

You didn’t know how long you’d been out there, but you figured it was a while. Enough time for Johnny to have a stern talking to the other guys about you. About the rest of their girls and wives and whatever other woman stepped into the club. There’d be no going after any gal like that, no matter who they were. End of story as far as Johnny was concerned. And now Johnny was sauntering outside for a cigarette, figuring you two were long gone. But no — you were leaning against Benny as he mused sweet nothings into your ear, a broad smile stretching across your sweet face making Johnny certain that you were alright.

“Aye Johnny,” Benny called the man only a few feet over, a burning orange dowsing his features in a glow as he lit up his own cylinder.

“Yeah, kid?” He raised a brow, giving Benny his attention as he took a fresh drag.

“Think y’can get that Father down ‘ere for Honey n’ me?” He asked earnestly.

Johnny squinted in the afternoon sun, blinking once, twice to digest Benny’s seriousness. “Hitchin’ a ride?” Johnny reviewed subtly, not trying to stir the obvious to the newbies inside that thought otherwise.

“Somethin’ like that,” Benny hinted, you confirming the notion just as fast. For a second time that afternoon, your pink ballet slipper nails danced in the air, but this time with a funky new addition to the mix.

And Johnny couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, delighted at such a sight. Knowing as sure as shit that he’d do everything in his power to make sure the two of you were happy. Cause Benny was family, and now you’d be too. Calling Father? ‘Course he would. He’d be crazy not to as far as his daughters were concerned. Couldn’t wait to tell them that their favorite teacher would be their brand new auntie. They’d be jumping up and down for sure.

“I’ll give ‘im a ring,” Johnny confirmed like a big ol’ fairy godfather.

And there, outside the bar after a crazy afternoon of swinging fists, it was settled.

Sure as shit — you’d be the future Mrs. Cross after all. And hey — maybe that bastard biker was right about one thing. You had an itch to scratch for sure. One that required filling your notepads and planners with your sweet swirly cursive, your new name etched into the thin sheets with your favorite pink pen….

Mrs. Cross. Mrs. Cross.

Mrs. Cross. <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

author’s note: these bees are engaged !! 🐝💍🐝

big ty to @zablife for being such a doll & inspiring the iconic mrs. cross cursive. x 💋🫶

my requests are open for ONLY miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝

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[sweetlywriting]

Allegiance

Feyd Rautha x Reader

Part one Part two

Warnings-Dune II spoilers, minor violence, enemies to mutual respect to fiancés(?)

Synopsis- Your planet is rich in horticulture and resources but faces the growing fear of imperialism from other houses. A solution presents itself when you are offered to marry their heir to house Harkonnen, Feyd Rautha.

You entered into the colosseum-esque arena, fascinated with the way the sun cast a veil of black and white onto everything within its grasp. It was subduing, and you felt as though you were in an old imperial painting-where all was colorless but the expressions of the people in them.

“I’m sure you’ll enjoy this. Feyd Rautha wanted you to arrive today so you would be able to see the show” The Baron said in his mangled voice, gesturing a pale hand towards you.

“I am honored to be in attendance Baron, especially on such an important day.” You said, musing on how it was rather generous for the Na-Baron to allot your visit on his own birthday.

You were excited, no one had told you quite what the entertainment was but you could imagine great performances and exotic animals in the Na-barons name. A lighter part of you also wished to see what he looked like, how he held himself, the tone of his voice-though surely upon the prospect of marriage it was rational to take into consideration.

A crease began along your mouth as three staggering men in chains were pushed into the arena along with who you could only assume was the Na-baron. Your temperament quickly changed realizing the entertainment was a fight to the death. The discontent grew seeing that two of the weren’t even truly conscious, stumbling and flailing. ‘A cowards move’ you thought pursing your lips.

You felt more foreign than ever, closely observing the calm and jovial nature of the Harkonnens around you, cheering at the calamity. It frustrated and confused you deeply, unable to stand the senseless violence. The intense smell of blood lust made your eyes water and their rims turn a bloodshot red. Why would your house choose you for him? Your home planet and house was far smaller than Geidi Prime but held traditions of peace and neutrality strong. Yet your family wanted you to marry this man? Live on this planet? With these people?

You turned to your attendant and motioned them to sit beside you.

“What were they thinking sending us here?” You whispered softly in your foreign tongue to them.

“The future of our planet my lady.” They whispered back, head down.

You felt uneasy, but understood that without some influence or power your house would soon slip into irrelevance or face threat from stronger houses. You wore the duty only for the love of your people.

You were snapped out of your reflection when the crowd started to roar again, the bodies of three atreides prisoners lay limp on the floor while the Na-Baron raised his bloodied weapon in victory. Bile rose to your throat. ‘How very difficult this will be’ you thought.

***

A banquet was held for the Na-Barons birthday and you were glad that there was no loss of life involved in simple meals and dance.

You roamed in a corner of the large room, dreading having to present yourself and your gift to the Harkonnens, wary of their violent nature, but it seemed the Na-Baron had beat you to it.

“Lady y/n” The Na-Baron said as he approached you. Up close you couldn’t deny that he was frustratingly handsome with sculpted features, tall gait, and skin like the white marble only seen in Kouros sculptures.

“Na-baron” You said, bowing lightly and offering your hand.

He took it, but rather than shake like on your home planet he kissed it. A polite gesture, but a bit rougher than you would have liked. His teeth grazed your hand, and left light marks. You tried to smile and brush the thought of getting some painful infection on foreign planet over something this irritatingly trivial.

“Call me Feyd. I heard you made it in time to see the Arena festivities” he said with a wolffish grin.

“Yes.” You said curtly, knowing if he asked how felt about them you would not be able to lie.

“Did you enjoy them?”

“I . . . thought it was rather brazen, an unecessary power play. All know your house is very strong and affluent, why spill more blood to reinforce something all know to be true.” You said this slowly, choosing your words carefully and hoping to sound more flattering than judgmental and unhappy with the injustice.

His smile dissipated and you could tell this was not the answer he wanted or expected, and a part of you feared the same fate of the Atreides prisoners would befall you. Luckily he seemed to find it humorous and laughed.

“No one has ever told me such an odd thing. Pity for prisoners! Very curious lady y/n, very curious.”

Perhaps he was interested, but you could still see venom where you hurt his pride and aroused his anger. You didn’t miss his arm clutching the sheath of his dagger as he laughed, and the way his smirk was more of a snarl now.

“I do not mean to disdain your traditions, I simply don’t quite understand them.” You said mildly when his laughter had faded.

“It’s alright. I like honesty and I like you too.” His eyes glimmered with malice and charm.

“It is true you have come as a prospective bride, yes?” He said.

“Yes. . . I have brought you a gift” You said, firmly thinking of the kind but worn face you your people as you rehearsed the proposal speech in your head. You motioned for one of your attendants to bring a sachetel with a cluster of flowers inside. You felt less reassured about your gift knowing Feyd’s character but presented it nonetheless.

“This is a heliolaris flower, it blooms yellow even in extreme conditions and without the light of the sun. It will hold its color even through the conditions of your planets black sun. Its species was created specifically for you and Giedi Prime. My planet is minor but we have plants that hold powerful miracles and arable land beyond compare. If you went through with our alliance . . . All of that would be yours too”

He peered inquisitively at the plant. He seemed unsure by the gift and your proposal but it only took a minute before his snake-like manner returned.

“I will plant these flowers. If they bloom in color as you say before the fortnight I will marry you, if not you will surrender your life to the arena that you so seem to despise.”

[mitsvriii]

JEKYLL AND HIDE

summary: when your boyfriend starts acting oddly, you believe that something may be wrong with him. only to find out that the "oddness" came from a product of something else entirely...

cw: mentions of blood, brief mentions of death, odd(?) pacing, semi-rushed ending, not proofread well, possible ooc (first time writing) | wc: 2.1k | taglist: @tetrachrxmacy, @aphrodict, @akutasoda

for the @/stellaronhvnters stellaween fest! the prompt i chose was doppelgänger

“yingxing?” whispering into the night, the shadow of your lover creeping from the doorway. if not for the moonlight making shadows around the outline of his hair, you would’ve thought it was someone else completely. “yingxing what are you doing up? it’s late.”

“...i’m sorry. i had a nightmare.” yingxing stalked over to the bed to sit on the edge, turning his head to scrutinize you, “woke up thirsty.” with a simple glance at your tired expression, he pursed his lips, “you should be asleep.”

“couldn’t sleep, bed got cold.” yingxing hummed in response, sliding in beside you rigidly. dipping into the mattress, you felt his investigative peer at your form; however, he didn’t comment anything else before turning on his side. frowning at the lack of affection you reached a hand out to run through his hair, an inexplicable habit. 

the bed was still cold even after he had gotten back in it.

—

“are you hungry?” pressing a chaste kiss to a pallid cheek, you slid over a plate of freshly cut strawberries and cherries - which you couldn’t tell were unripened - while squeezing his shoulder affectionately. “i’m still making pancakes, but here’s something sweet to tie you over until then, okay?”

yingxing looked disinterested in your words, hand hovering over the strawberry slices before quickly plucking up a cherry. without a second thought he popped the entire thing in his mouth, swallowing it without even blinking.

oh, okay. 

with an awkward pat to his shoulder, you returned to tend to the other food. yinxing was quiet the entire morning, oddly enough. going without giving you morning forehead kisses, not offering to fix dinner like he normally does, hell, he didn’t even spare you a glance when you screamed the other day because a small pool of hair dye looked like blood.

speaking of hair dye…

when the hell did yingxing decide to dye his hair?

it wasn’t as white as it used to be. now sporting a more grey hue, the roots borderning black instead of an ashen. and to make matters worse, the sight of the spot of not-blood in the bathroom looks like he had done it sporadically. it was odd, having to take on the product of an inattentive change between the both of you. you barely existed to him anymore, only being spoken to if he needed reminders of your outings or activities together. 

you didn’t want to ask. in fact, you were honestly nervous to. if he switched personalities overnight just a week ago, there’s no solid idea of how he would react if you questioned that. perhaps you should just keep your mouth shut instead of bringing it over breakfast. it would be better for both of you. 

but, alas, sometimes you cannot keep things in if they’re already about to burst at the seams.

the absolute second that the question of “are you okay?” left your mouth, it was as if the old yingxing had returned. long gone was the robotic man that had been walking aimlessly around your house for the past month. the tenderness in his voice filling to the brim again, his cold hands squeezing yours and providing just enough warmth that for a second, you’d believe that maybe the observations you’d made were just a figment of your imagination.

for a second, though.

as soon as his eyes met yours, there was a different aura within the air. his smile was more forced as his eyes crinkled around the edges just enough to tell you that you needed to let it go. it was nothing but a one-time thing, even though you knew it wasn’t. his attitude was a product of stress brought from a nightmare, which was odd because when he normally has them he doesn’t comment on them so as to not stress you out. the weird movements were apart of cramping his hand from hitting it on one of his projects in his office; a product of “an accident”, even though he hadn’t been in it in days as to have a break.

but it was okay, he was okay, you were okay; everything was okay.

night took over the sky quicker that day. the quiet doing nothing more than fueling your nervousness as yingxing slept beside you, an arm around your waist as his mouth parted open, breathing softly.

yingxing never wrapped his arm around your waist. it was always both of his arms, never just one.

in fact, it was the warmth brought on by his embraces that often made you feel as if a warm blanket was draped over your shoulders. kissing your temples as you cooked, swaying back and forth with his arms around your waist as you both danced silently, hums of affection as his hands guided yours when you helped him build his sketched creations. you missed the warmth that he brung, now stuck to withstand the cold.

yingxing seemed to notice the distance growing between both of you, trying to substitute his thin paper for wooden flecks to keep the fire aflame. straying to edges, spurned kisses pressed to cheeks, unwanted touches of so-called affection being something to look forward to everyday.

wonderful, really.

it was still worrying, as if you were living with an entirely different person. 

the more you thought about it, the more you felt uneasy. you knew it was stupid to assume anything was actually okay at this point, but you had a guy in your house that wasn’t even your partner; at least as far as you could tell. 

yingxing didn’t have this super, secret evil twin as much as you knew about him. but the idea of somebody secretly taking his place, or even the pipeline of scenarios in your head of someone wearing his skin…

it scared you. 

getting up as carefully as you could, you crept to the bathroom. opening and closing the door - cursing under your breath when it creaked - you flipped on the light near the sink, staring at where you had seen the blood hair dye. the spot on the tile floor was clean, but you could still envision it perfectly. 

it was hair dye. it was hair dye.

nothing else, nothing more.

it was the knock on the bathroom door that made your heart stop.

“babe?” yingxing never called you babe, it was always sweetheart, “are you okay?”

“just had to use the bathroom.” the lie was shaky. by the way he went quiet, you’re sure he knew it, too. “don’t worry about it, i’ll be back.” why the hell was he following you around like a lost kitten? the one time he decides to actually check up on you is the worst, what a shocker.

“oh. do you need my help?”

swear.

“what?”

a pause.

“i’m sorry, that was odd of me to say.” oh, you think?

the silence was laughable, honestly. one person two people who didn’t even know how to properly communicate with another each other. clearing your voice, you cracked open the door to peek at him.

jeez, his eyes.

it was as if a darkened glass orb was crushed and shifted into two circular shapes. a kaleidoscope of mixed emotions all scattered into one. the darkened colors of maroon twisting with blues of dark greens, his pupils nothing but ink blotches on the canvas. stray bristles mixed within the irises to give them a highlighted countenance. alas, its his eyes were the only thing worth much note on his face. they even appeared as a cheap replica of that belonging to an oil painting. 

“i’m sorry.”

the echoed words rung throughout your head, as if they were a church bell and you were the quiet nave. you hated how you cracked the door back open on pure impulse, the tone in his voice drawing you in to comfort him by pure memory. he sounded sad. you hated when yingxing was sad.

but this wasn’t yingxing, remember?

“why?” asking quietly, the door creaked again as it was stopped by his foot.

yingxing stepped back, as if to give you enough space to squeeze back into the bedroom, “for being distant. for not being myself recently.”

funny timing for an apology, huh. 

“that’s okay.” universe, you hope he couldn’t tell your smile wasn’t as forced as it was within the darkness. “you had that nightmare, remember?” grabbing his hand in yours, you tried not to flinch at the sheer chill that shot up through your body once you grabbed it. “not your fault.”

whoever wrote your part in this script was at risk of getting their neck wrung. why couldn’t you be the possible-but-almost-certain imposter? it would’ve been easier than playing the naive rat that wasn’t aware of the rat looming on the kitchen counter. 

yingxing didn’t say anything, allowing you to lead him back to the bed. “we can just worry about this all tomorrow, okay? it’s late. we can walk to the café and get coffee like we do every monday morning.” you froze when yingxing stopped, the backs of your knees hitting the bed’s corner. “yingxing?” 

those eyes bore into you as he moved his hand out of your grasp, staring at you. the clouds hide away the moon from the sight, leaving you squinting to make out his silhouette. a hoarse right was mumbled under his breath as he slid onto the side of his bed; the movement not as stiff as it was yesterday. you followed suit, doing your utmost not to shake as you pulled the duvet further up your body.

you and yingxing went out on wednesdays for coffee, not mondays.

—

the universe had decided that you deserved a break, so when you woke up to the sound of heavy rain on your windows, you nearly jumped for joy. at least now you wouldn’t have to deal with the onslaught of questions from the barista about why you and yinxing were two days earlier than normal, and you wouldn’t have to stomach the latter’s stares. 

but on the downside, you were now stuck with a yinxing you weren’t even positive was yingxing. perhaps your previous doubts were factual. this wasn’t your boyfriend and you’ve been living with something someone completely random. 

oh god…you let him sleep in your bed. even if you weren’t aware, the point still stands.

“are you okay?”

its his voice pulled you up and over the wave that nearly drowned you in your thoughts, the saccharine tone making your teeth ache. how could it pretend that nothing was wrong? was it simply emotionless?

or had it not had enough human experience to learn how to produce them?

“fine”, you choked out, wincing as the sting of the seasoning on your takeout hit the back of your throat. “sorry, the food's just a bit spicy.” yingxing seemed to take the response in a positive light, or positive as in not questioning your response. 

and more silence. great.

it had become unnerving, not welcoming. as much as you’d not like to listen to not-yingxing's voice grating your ears like nails on a chalkboard. a grater with a sharp blade – oh.

blade. not-yingxing shall be dubbed blade.

but if you were to pull it out of your side, you’re sure that you’d only bleed out. left in your own misery of not letting everything try to stick back together like glue. lifting your head to look at blade, you noticed that he was staring at you. was he a mind reader as well? just your luck, something to dig into your thoughts and expose them in front of yourself. 

“would you like to see him?”

a pause. 

the air seemed to get thicker as your utensils almost slipped out of your hand. rearranged your grip, you swallowed; the salvia hitting your dry throat and going down harshly. “i’m sorry?”

“i asked you if you’d like to see him.” blade tilted his head at you, questioningly. “surely you do not believe that i’ve not read you?”

you felt your stomach twist in disgusting ways when blade stood up, eyes still on you as he moved to the doorway. “come with me.” fading, fading, fading down the hall and into yingxing’s office.

the office that hadn’t been occupied since blade appeared.

scrambling up from the table you brushed past blade, whose footsteps stopped, and you swore you heard a chuckle bubbling out of his throat. shaking as you reached for the door handle, you closed your eyes and twisted the knob. opening to gaze within the room, you felt your blood run cold in your body.

and you screamed.

[hd-erised]

Welcome to the first Weekly Round-Up of @hd-erised!

We hope you've been loving the fest so far. We want to give a great big thank you to everyone who's been following the fest and supporting our fantastic participants with comments, kudos and recs. You are amazing and we know for certain our awesome artists and wonderful writers appreciate all your love and excitement!

Please check our first week to make sure you didn't miss anything, and please don't forget to leave some love for our participants. They are the stars! <3 

Art:

Brewed Awakenings for @jessixaluci [T]

The Case of the Mysterious Baker for @sorrybutblog [G]

Ceilings. for @karamelised [M]

Fic:

Where Starlight Falls for @citrusses [E, ~33,700]

The magic concealing Sirius’s Last Will and Testament doesn’t reveal the full extent of Harry’s inheritance until two years after the war. When it does, it turns out that Harry has inherited more than just the Black Family vault—he’s inherited the family’s magic, too. He just has to find it first. And he needs Draco Malfoy’s help to do it.

Runaway Train for @lqtraintracks [E, ~18,100]

Harry was already keen to figure out what’s been causing a series of disturbances in the London Underground before Draco Malfoy showed up acting suspicious. Two explosions, several very confused Muggles, and a cloud of mysterious sticky powder later, Harry and Malfoy can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. Can Harry shag his way to the answer to all of his questions? Seems unlikely, but what can a man do but try?

At Night All Birds Are Black for IzRoan [E, ~51,800]

Harry loves being an Auror—the long hours, adrenaline-fuelled chases, and even the paperwork. But when a haunting leads to his suspension, he’s forced to continue his investigation in secret. As he unravels the murder of a young girl, he turns to the one person he never expected he’d need: Draco Malfoy.

The Melting Point of Wax for @vukovich [M, ~10,500]

Harry Potter is many things: captain of the Chudley Cannons, the fun uncle, a good enough friend, comfortable in the life he's built for himself. Comfortable, that is, until a risque broom advertisement and a rumor about a fellow athlete come together to send him spiralling into the world of high-stakes broom racing, high-flying turtles, and the chaos of falling in love.

Body and Soul for @a-sentimental-man [M, ~22,200]

When the headaches became worse and it got more and more difficult for Draco to work, he was left with no other choice but to recognise his stupid problem exactly for what it was. Even if that meant realising that the best, or perhaps even only, solution could solely come from one person: the one person he hadn’t seen for months, the one person he was still in love with. The one person who should never know. Because, clearly, Harry would never be able to give Draco what he needed anyway.

The Pain From an Old Wound for @sharperthan [T, ~31,100]

Getting hit with a mysterious blood curse is all in a day’s work for Harry Potter. Having to work with his former colleague, rival, bully, and boyfriend, is not. Harry’s not sure which is going to do him in first: the curse sucking his magic dry, or Draco Malfoy, as frustrating, condescending, and painfully attractive as he’s always been.

The Most Splendid Thing for @sleepstxtic [E, ~61,200]

Star Quidditch rivals Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter become accidentally bonded. They still hate each other, but now it’s untenable to leave each other’s sides—and my, but it feels oh so good to touch. They’re either going to murder one another, or fall in love. OR: A story in which Draco finally allows himself happiness, and Harry finally learns that he deserves to be whole.

Borealis Green for @faiell [E, ~47,200]

Draco left Harry on the night of their first kiss, when they were eighteen. Ten years later, Harry, now Deputy Lead of the Norwegian Aurors, barges back into Draco's life at the Ministry, seeking his help—both personal and professional—for a case, to re-capture Rodolphus Lestrange and Augustus Rookwood. Turns out that Draco couldn’t really get over Harry, either.

[mindbreak]

Destrudo - One Shot

2.9K Words

Tw: noncon, sadism, dacryphilia, stalking, obsession, mention of rotting limbs (shigi takes your leg on accident), blood (reader bites Shigi), light mindbreak if you squint.

Tags: Shigaraki x Reviving Quirk! Fem! Reader

This is a pure work of fiction. I do not condone any of the actions that take place within this fiction in real life. Minors DO NOT interact. No Age in Bio will be blocked.

There’s something about you that makes Shigaraki’s skin itch. From the moment he saw you, there was the urge to destroy. Like a trigger, you set him off. Maybe it was your smile, or the way you stood so high and mighty as you called yourself the ‘hero of heros’, or maybe it was how quickly you had risen in the ranks earning yourself a place at AllMight’s side. Whatever it was, one thing was clear;

He wanted to break you.

He could recall the first time he feeling it, the insatiable urge to break you down. You had called yourself “Revival”, a rather corny name he had thought but one that seemed to describe your quirk well. Your quirk that seemed to directly oppose his own. He had done his research on you, your mother having been born with the ability to heal and your father born with a quirk that involved repair, you had somehow been gifted the powerful mixture of both. You had initially made a name for yourself in the recovery and rescue fields, with your most notable feat being the recovery of burned down Forrests. However, after an incident where you were able to completely reverse the effects of one of his victims, people regarded you as a top ranking hero who was ‘immune’ to the Leader of the League of Villains.

People loved you. You gave them hope. Even All Might regarded you as a great and powerful hero and, that made his skin crawl.

His hatred had quickly become a fixation, and he began to behave more recklessly to garner your attention. Attacking civilians with hopes you’d show up, destroying buildings, and Forrests to test the limitations of your quirk. He would never truly leave the scene of the crime, always just a ways away, watching you.

Sometimes he’d go so far as to follow you afterwards, his skin crawling as All Might would place his hands on your shoulder after a long day, laughing about how amazing you were.

Were you fucking him? Disgusting. You’d probably fuck anything if you were fucking that old bat.

He hated watching others touch you, sometimes he’d find himself biting his lip until it bled while you laughed at a table full of hero’s, all of you gathered and drinking together. So fucking chummy with one another.

What would your face look like if you knew he were just a mere few feet away? What would your reaction be if he were the one touching you?

When he voiced his thoughts to the other members, they didn’t seem to understand him in the slightest.

“Aww, Shigi you’re in love!” Toga exclaimed excitedly. Twice seemed to agree, before calling him some insult in a separate voice. “You should just fuck her already and get it over with.” Dabi notes, nonchalantly.

“Don’t be such a brute, he should try and buy her flowers. I’m sure she’ll love it.” Toga adds, blushing crimson as she begins to go on and on about how good being in love feels.

“I don’t love her…” Shigaraki gripes, trying to silence the now rowdy bar as they all descend into their usual chaos. Dabi, the only sane one at the moment, shoves his hands in his pockets before leaning against the counter next to Shigi. “Listen, I don’t care about whatever feelings you have towards that hero but, it’s getting creepy how often you talk about her. Whatever you want to do, just get it over with so we can get back to the mission. I’m not here for any love fest.” He advises.

That’s how he ended up here, in your home, sitting on your couch and waiting for you to come home, like some crazy obsessed boyfriend.

At first he was uncertain, he had followed you home many times but, he had never actually broken in.

However, it quickly dissipated and was replaced with hatred as he observed the various pictures and certificates along the walls. You had pictures with your family, and awards from various parts of your life. It reminded him of just how much he couldn’t stand you. You, the ever-so-privileged, to be fortunate enough to live this happy little life of yours.

He wanted to snatch it all away from you.

The faint click of the door alerts him of your arrival, and his head snaps up to find you staring back at him in horror.

The next set of events are a bit of a blur, as he immediately stands to his feet to chase you down, somehow knocking you too your feet and slamming the door shut, and locking it behind him. You had tried to fight him, but the moment his hands grabbed your legs, it was over. You could only scream in agony as your leg began to rot and fall away.

Shigi was stunned for a moment, his eyes wide as he watched the tears stream down your face as you mourned your now lost limb. He had known he was fucked in the head, but right now as he watched you try and crawl away, his cock twitching in excitement, he knew something had been very wrong with him.

"So you aren't completely immune to me..." He says, more to himself than to you with an amused grin on his face.

He doesn't chase you, you're too hysteric to think logically, immediately trying to bring back your own leg when you realize that the rotting is spreading further and further, reaching your knee.

While you make quick work of bringing back your leg, he digs in his pockets for his gloves, sliding them on his hands while humming casually.

"W- why are you doing this?" You ask, confused and distraught.

He doesn't answer, only reaching for a syringe that he bought with him with a newfound sense of pride.

"Try not to fight to much..." is all he says, before sticking the needle into your neck, and everything fades to black.

When you come to, it’s pitch black inside your home. Not even the moons fluorescent light shines through the void that engulfs your living space. You can tell you’re in your room though, as the familiar firmness of your mattress keeps your warm from the otherwise chilling air.

If not for the throbbing feeling in your leg, you’d have assumed the prior events had only been a nightmare, but, unfortunately for you this all was very very real and the man who lay watching you with his arm across your abdomen and his crimson eyes boring into the side of your face was no figment of your imagination.

“You’re awake? Finally, I was starting to thing I had injected you with too much…”

Is all he says as you try to pry him off of you, only for you to realize that your arms and legs are tied to the posts.

“Please…whatever it is I did to end up on your bad side…I apologize.” You say, eyes watering in a desperate attempt to pull sympathy from him. You may have been a hero but you healed, helped rebuild buildings, and worked on rescuing civilians. Your quirk wasn’t built for combat, Allmight had sought you out for your abilities sure, but as a sidekick, you were still just learning the ropes in terms of fighting bad guys! You were in no way capable of handling the league of villains leader, at least you thought so.

Your tears only served to excite him

“Yes, this is exactly what I wanted to see..” he uttered in complete fascination, “Cry harder for me, sweet girl.”

Your body physically recoils when you feel something firm pressing into your side.

Was he getting off on this?

“You..You’re sick!” You spit at him, a wave of disgust and anger washing over you as you seethe at him through hot tears. “Let me g- mmh!”

You’re silenced by his mouth pressing against yours, a gloved hand gripping your throat tight enough to block your air ways forcing you to instinctively try and gasp for air.

He makes an attempt to slip his slimy wet tongue into your mouth and—

CHOMP.

“Fuck!” He hisses, pulling back from you. “I’m bleeding..” he announces to you, annoyed and angry as if he weren’t literally trying to force himself on you.

You want to make a smart remark but before you could say anything his hands were in your pants, prying you open with his fingers.

“I was trying to be nice to you, ya know. Wanted to ease you into it.” He gripes while you bite at your lip, trying to close your legs but to no avail.

“But if you keep acting like a little bitch, I’ll just rip you open. I can make this feel good for you or painful..I’ll cum either way” He threatens.

You can’t hide the way your face twists in disgust, nausea overtaking you as he starts to massage your clit sloppily and unskilled. Was this some kind of sick joke? There was no way he’d make you feel good no matter how gentle or shitty he was to you. Still…you weren’t foolish enough to pick a fight with someone while you had no way to defend yourself. You could only hope that one of your hero friends would stop by to save you.

Shigaraki takes your silence as an agreement of compliance (it is) and makes a second attempt at kissing you, this time the taste of metal invading your senses as his blood gets in your mouth. He doesn’t remove his fingers from your heat, only adjusting them so they’re not so uncomfortable.

His movements are slow and methodical, shifting every so often while he watches for a reaction from you. His fingers twist and curl until he finds a particular spot that makes you moan in his mouth.

“Cute..” his whispers against your lips, his face just a few centimeters from yours as he rubs against that same spot a few more times. “Can you hear that?” He asks, drawing your attention to the wet sounds coming from below your waist, “You’re so wet from just a few fingers.”

You turn away from him, biting your lip to try prevent yourself from making anymore involuntary sounds. “I-it’s a Biological response. That…that doesn’t mean I’m enjoying this.” You try to explain. But the smirk radiating off his face, tells you that he doesn’t believe you…or care.

He starts to press into that spot harder, kissing at your neck and leaving little bites on your shoulder. “I guess I’m not the only sick one. You claim to hate this, but you’re dripping down my fingers.” He taunts, “How would your precious Allmight feel if he knew you were getting off on his enemies fingers? Do you think he’d get rid of you?”

You don’t answer. Instead you try and place your focus anywhere else, on anything else. But his constant chatter won’t allow your mind to wander for long.

“Fuck, I want to feel you…”

His hand leaves your sex, and for a moment there’s shuffling beside you. The sound of zippers and clothes dropping being the only thing to fill the otherwise silent room. You had hoping if you just let him do what he wanted, he would get it over with quickly.

But Shigaraki had no intention of letting you stay silent the entire time. He slipped his gloves off, making sure he was in full view and your heart rate picks up instantly as the thought of him touching you fills you with newfound paranoia.

He’s careful this time though, letting his fingers graze over your clothes and watching as they disintegrate beneath his touch, leaving only a cool sensation ghosting in their wake.

You whimper when he’s got you down to your underwear, shuddering in the silence while he plays with the hem of your panties. You flinch at the contact, and he almost laughs.

“Careful, if you move too much, you might lose your leg again..” he warns playfully, though you don’t find anything about what he says to be funny at all.

He observes your lower half for a moment longer before speaking again. “Your leg did heal nicely though. I wonder…if I were to keep breaking away at you, could you keep putting yourself back together?”

His curiosity was scaring you. You didn’t know yourself and you didn’t want him trying to find out the answer.

“T- Tomura…”

His eyes seem to hone in on you, he never expected his name to leave your lips, but he liked the sound. Something he made a mental note of for later.

Ever the oblivious to your future misfortune, you only cared about placing his mind else where. “A- Are you going to put that inside me?” You asked, raising your head, only to take in his naked form. He was a lot more muscular than you had expected, still fairly thin but in a lean kind of way, as if he had been training.

There were scars along his pale skin, ones that trailed down his abdomen leading to his—

“Do you mean my dick?” He says, a little too confidently as he places himself between your legs.

You only nod in reply, disgusted with yourself.

If the circumstances had been different, you would have rolled your eyes...but this was a moment of desperation. If you didn't keep him entertained, he would clearly find ways to entertain himself. Horrifying ways that would only end in suffering for you.

"I want to hear you say it...ask me to put it in." he says, his mouth getting closer to your loins, kissing at your inner thigh.

A larger part of you wanted to pull away, but you knew better. He had slipped his gloves back on, somewhere in the midst of your little interaction, and had his lips kissing dangerously close to your pussy. It was better this than him testing the limits of your quirk.

"Go on...Beg me for my dick..."

He swipes his tongue up your bare slit, it's warm but leaves a cold and wet feeling after. He doesn't stop there, his cracked lips kissing your bundle of nerves, before he circles it with his tongue.

Its foreign feeling at first, and strange, but you can't stop the way your breath picks up as he licks at your most sensitive parts. The fact that you're even giving him a reaction fills you with shame. You just want this to be over.

"Pl-please put your dick in me.." you say, your own voice just barely above a whisper in an attempt to mask the fact that your voice sounds a little less like your own right now.

"Hmm? What was that? I didn't hear you..."

You were embarrassed and overstimulated, and there was a strange feeling starting to build up in your tummy from his tongue on you. As sloppy as it was, he was learning your body quickly, and that was terrifying.

"Please...Tomura...Put your dick in me.." You say, louder this time.

"You want it?"

"Y-es.."

He smiles a genuine smile, and had you have known what he was thinking, you may have fought him a little harder.

He brings his face back to yours, his hands on either side of your head and his length nestled between your folds and twitching in excitement. "Kiss me..." He commands, but he sounds breathless, needy almost.

You do as you are told, despite your skin crawling, despite the bile that's building in your throat, despite the alarm bells going off inside your head.

The kiss felt different than the first.... the first was experimental, curious. This one was greedy, like he intended to take something with it.

"Mm..MM" Your wrists twist at the restraints as the tip of his cock pushes past your folds, pressing into your innards and spreading your walls apart.

"Relax a little for me baby..." he growls, hips stuttering as he feels how tight you are. He groans when his balls finally slap against your cunt, bottoming out inside you.

For a moment you're in disbelief, you try to scan through memories, trying to find something that would make sense of the situation you're in right now. Searching for anything that would explain why he was doing this to you.

Meanwhile, Tomura was pulling back his hips to fuck into you again. You moan as he sets a slow pace as if he's savoring the feeling of you.

You're made to feel every inch of him as he pressed into you deep. "Fffuck.." you curse under your breath, as the girth of him grinds into your gspot.

You can feel the build in your stomach again, and your walls start to spasm around his dick.

"That's right, cum for me pretty girl..." he says, picking up his pace, snapping his hips forward. You can't think anymore, not that you want to anyway. He thrusts once, then again, and suddenly your coming undone, your limbs shaking as an orgasm wracks throughout your entire body.

He talks you through your orgasm, whispering about how good of a whore you are, about how your body was made for him, how you were made for him, about how he's known all along that you were his.

It scares you when he says those things but, it scares you even more that you're starting to believe him.

______________________________________________________

Authors note: Hope people like the one-shot. Again english isn't my first language so I apologize for any grammar or spelling errors. This isn't meant to be anything serious or align with any part of the recent storyline in anyway. Just something I wanted to write. If there needs to be more tags or warnings, I'll be sure to add them. Hope it is well received. Again, I don't condone any of the acts depicted here in real life. Minors DO NOT interact or Follow. No Age in Bio will be Blocked (I'll get to checking my following soon). Thank you to anyone who does like the stuff I write.

[drarryspecificrecsdaily]

2024.08.20

Complete fics posted on AO3 this day

1. devotion (my blood sings with your voice) by @lupinflowrs [M, 2k]

►draco and harry love each other so, so much that it's hard to put into words. harry tries to.

2. Kitchen dancing to bad 90’s music by Big_dog_energy [?, 19k]

►When Draco gets injured in his animagus form, he’s forced to live with Harry Potter until he recuperates. What ensues is the most unlikely friendship—and then romance— the Wizarding World has ever seen. /// Featuring a snide, sassy Draco, a soft, domestic post-war world and Harry Potter with PTSD medication in his bedside drawer and flowers on his windowsill.

3. Made for Duty by @pixiedunhoff [E, 11k]

►A one night stand will entwine the futures of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy forever.

4. The No Divorce Clause by @coffeedrgn87 [E, 144k]

►Haunted by the war’s aftermath, Harry Potter flees his old life, searching for peace in far-flung corners of Europe. But peace proves elusive when he unexpectedly crosses paths with Draco Malfoy. In a world where magic lingers just beneath the surface, their journey takes them through enchanted cities and ancient secrets, testing the boundaries between rivalry and something far deeper. With unresolved tension crackling between them, Harry and Draco face a slow-burning connection that neither can ignore. As they navigate heartbreak, danger, and the shadows of their past, they’ll discover that the hardest battle isn’t always against dark wizards—it’s against the walls they've built around their hearts.

5. you cannot save people, you can only love them by falconns [T, 3k]

►[...] They aren't supposed to find safety in each other, but that's what it feels like. He feels like a place Harry didn't think even existed anymore.

---

Fest/Exchange

1. The only thing worse than heartbreak is Vermont by @jtimu [E, 31k] --- ART by @girlcave

►In the aftermath of a failed relationship, Draco Malfoy found himself with three things. His pride (tattered), Theo's luggage (stolen), and an all-inclusive couples' vacation package to Vermont (awful). ★ Drarry Mini Bang | @drarry-mini-bang

2. Seeker Practice by @poljupci [E, 1k]

►Harry Potter is a good Seeker. The fact that catching their snitch of a soulmark gets both of them all hot and bothered is just some extra incentive. ★ HP Soulmates Fest 2024 | @hp-soulmates

[ticktokrobotsnot]

Vapor

This is Part 2

You can read Part 1 here.

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader 

Summary: An accountant helps Carmen organize his not-so-shit-restaurant and gets invited over for family dinner. 

Word Count: 10k

__

The sky was blood orange and the reflection on the store window was mesmerizing. Y/n was supposed to be in the office getting ready for the full day ahead of her but she couldn’t resist slacking off for a bit, it was nice to finally enjoy the restaurant with no one inside. Y/n needed to be here early when a potential vendor came by to give some quotes. Carmen’s initial reaction was to stand his ground and act like some faux bodyguard because he couldn't fathom why some “sick fuck” would want to be alone with a woman in a restaurant at the ass crack of dawn without them having bad intentions—said it wasn't safe at all. Y/n had to inform him that the, “sick fuck” was a woman. And as soon as Carmen heard that, and realized they were going to be talking numbers for a while, he ran off to the farmer's market, wanting no part in that snooze fest. 

Y/n grabbed her laptop and started reviewing the binders she organized. Just as y/n was about to check her phone for any messages, she heard a knock at the door. A pretty blond woman looks at y/n with a bit of confusion. This woman wasn’t expecting to see y/n and y/n wasn't expecting to see this woman. Y/n walked to the door and opened a crack. 

“Who are you?” Y/n questioned. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” The women laughed but y/n wasn’t finding this funny.

“Natalie…” Y/n shook her head like a bouncer sending a teeager away without his fake ID.

“Natalie Berzatto.” She clarified and y/n recalled the name as a co-signer for The Beef, now The Bear. Y/n opened the door a bit more to let her in. 

Y/n gave her name but she didn’t know what else to say but Natalie was already filling the space. 

“Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you, Carmen won't stop talking about you. You really saved our asses. Especially with the file organizing stuff, I found the old payroll stuff in like a minute, you're a real savant with stuff like that. Carmy is a real sticker for cooking but he is a real shit-”. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Natalie was nervous.

Y/n knew that Natalie was a part of Carmen’s family but she didn’t know how they were connected. One plausible scenario was that she was Micheal’s widowed girlfriend or wife, which would explain why anyone would co-sign the disaster that Micheal had created and promptly left. Y/n wondered why Carmen would be getting so chummy with his widowed sister-in-law, but then again men have done worse. 

Y/n bit the bullet, “How do you know Carmen?”

“I'm his sister… Sugar?” Y/n was starting to feel like a real idiot for not being able to piece these easy deductions together, she was losing her edge because it was to fucking early in the morning.

“Yes, Richie told me that “Sugar” was going to stop by this week. What can I do for you?” Y/n didn’t mention that she thought Sugar was going to be a stripper because of the name. 

“Actually I came to pick some old tax stuff… Micheal’s tax returns.” Y/n guided her to the office. Even if she didn’t look back she knew that Natalie was spying on her binders and laptop laid out on the counter, trying to find out a bit about y/n. 

“So, Carmy tells me that you two used to work together back in New York.”

“Yeah it was only for a few years.”

“Were you close?” Natalie probed. 

“We were…strangers at best.” Y/n chose to leave out the messy parts of her and Carmen’s origins. 

Natalie shook her head in disbelief. "That can't be true, he actually came to my place one day, pretty late. You know why?" Y/n, not knowing the answer, simply shrugged her shoulders. 

"He said he needed to make an important phone call, someone from his old job. He said that he wanted to ask for a bit of help." Natalie continued, her voice tinged with wishfulness "I thought maybe he was finally going to therapy or something." Y/n felt a strange sensation, like she was staring directly into the sun, hope gave Natalie a beautiful glow. 

Natalie's smile softened as she added, "And you know what? He made that phone call right on our porch." Her words carried a touch of warmth. "Well, at least he's reaching out for help. It's a good thing, right?"

“I recommended therapy to him too but I think we would need to put a gun to his head for him to actually go." Natalie let out a humored exhale. 

There was a lull of silence after she handed the tax returns. Y/n could sense that Natalie wanted to talk some more so y/n directed her to the bar stools out front. She checked her phone and saw that her vendor had a family emergency and needed to reschedule. After shooting a quick ok, she directed herself to face Natalie. 

"You can ask me anything. I've got plenty of time to kill." Y/n offered, feeling generous considering the recent kiss shared with Natalie's brother just a week ago.

“I was here a few times but I never had a chance to meet you?”

“I was probably apartment hunting.” Natalie looked like she was debating asking her next question.   

“What did you think of Carmen when you guys were back in New York?”

“He was like every other chef.”

“Nothing else? No pulling force?”

“No pulling force.”

“You moved state lines for him and you're saying there was no pulling force?”

“He asked me for help and I gave him some.” 

“You chose to stay. There had to be a pull.”

“The restaurant spoke to my soul, I had to stay.” Y/n was bluffing. 

“Bullshit, there was a pull.” Natalie said with a self fulfilled smirk like she had won a point in their imaginary game.

Natalie continued, “You know, he won a Michelin star. A man who cooks…is not too bad.”

“I don’t eat gourmet food. It’s pretentious.” Y/n didn’t want to make too much out of the kiss and make Carmen panic.

“I'm sure he can make something you will like.” 

“I have yet to eat something of his that would warrant him having a Michelin star.”

“You don’t like his cooking?”

“I don’t like anyone’s cooking.” Natalie couldn’t come up with something else. Point to y/n. A smile spread across y/n’s face and Natalie was relieved to realize that y/n wasn’t being serious. 

“What do you like doing?” Natalie probed. 

“I spend most of my time working here but I also read.” 

“Why did you leave New York?” Natalie blurted out.

“I don’t like working with other people, my boss was all over me. I thought Chicago would be a nice change of pace.” 

Y/n saw Natalie unlock her phone to respond to a text from someone named Pete, who had a pink heart near his name. Y/n knew that memorizing people’s passwords was an invasion of their privacy but it was fun to be a bit nosy. 

Y/n was also tired of getting the third-degree, she was hoping for a few fun questions asking if she ever murdered anyone or if she ever was contacted to be a part of a bank heist. She would be lying if she wasn’t a bit afraid that whatever she said would be relayed to Carmen so she didn’t want to say anything too damning. 

“You read romance?” Y/n saw the book peeking out of Natalie’s bag, it was one that she had read before. 

“Yeah, they’re my guilty pleasure.”

“Mine too. I liked that one.” Y/n pointed at the book peaking out.

“I hate it, it's filled with miscommunication. I’m only finishing it to justify the 12 dollars I spent.” Natalie said with a fake pout. 

“I love miscommunication because I suck at talking to people too. Much better than the one I just finished.”

“What killed your book?”

“Third-act break up.” Natalie nodded her head, it seems like they agreed. 

Y/n couldn't help but feel relieved; while the nature of Y/n's relationship with Carmen remained uncertain, it was evident that Natalie would become a more integral part of the restaurant. Carmen's recent discovery of three hundred thousand dollars hidden in tomato cans had sparked ambitious plans for renovating the place. Even if she ended up being nothing serious with Carmen, she needed to secure a stable support who wouldn’t completely hate her if shit hit the fan. 

They continued to talk about a few books that they had read, a few so trashy that they had to hide their faces in embarrassment from each other when reading the summary out loud. 

The door chimed and both women looked over to Carmen who was holding a few bags of produce and baked goods. Y/n went over and plucked the receipts for the top of one of the bags, she didn’t bother helping Carmen because he wouldn’t have let her help anyways. Carmen was gracious enough to put all the receipts together so she wasn’t digging to find them, she kept a record of them to write them off as a business deduction. 

“Nat, you’re here early?” Carmen spared a glance before opening a box of croissants to share and then disappearing to the kitchen to put everything away. 

“Yeah I had to pick something up, y/n was so kind to help me so early in the morning. Isn’t she just the best?” 

“Yeah…How did it go with the vendor?” Carmen mindlessly mumbled while busying himself with a notebook of recipe ideas. 

“Rescheduled.” Y/n didn’t look up, engrossed in cataloging some expensive mushrooms for record keeping. $268.43 for some mushrooms was honestly so ridiculous y/n needed to squint to see if she was seeing this right. 

“I need to return the favor.” Natalie started.

“It was just a few folders, you really don’t-”

“Why don’t you join us for dinner on friday?” Y/n felt like she was performing front and center.

“I couldn’t-.” 

“Please, Pete never wants to talk to me about…” Natalie was raising her eyebrows in the most unsubtle way possible so she didn’t expose y/n's softer side and her penchant for reading romance novels. Y/n couldn’t help but hide her face in embarrassment, “Yeah…fine. Just tell me what time.”

Observing the exchange, Carmen couldn't help but wonder if this was how dogs felt when humans engaged in their own incomprehensible conversations.

Y/n was starting to feel like she was edging closer and closer to Carmen’s limit. Kissing in the back alley of a restaurant and on the car ride to and from work was very different from being invited to his sister’s house for dinner. It carried a weight of intimacy, commitment, and solidity that made Y/n slightly uneasy, wondering if this was too much for Carmen. She waited for the other shoe to drop, Carmen would subtly show his discontent by telling Natalie that she shouldn’t force y/n to go to that dinner, which was just an excuse to create some distance. Y/n was surprised when Carmen asked what type of desert he should bring instead. 

Y/n kept her cool and excused herself to go to the office so she could get back to work. 

Carmen and Natalie moved to the kitchen where Carmen would experiment for a bit. Natalie sat on a stool next to Carmen who started washing produce. 

“She is very smart.” Natalie whispered. She took a glance at the closed office door.

“Yeah. Great with the books.” Carmen peeled and diced some garlic. 

“Nice too.”

“She is very nice.” Carmen started cutting some nepitella. The additional “very” caused some alarm bells to ring in Natalie’s head. She hid her smirk. 

“Everything about her is nice,” Natalie made sure to pay close attention to Carmen’s face, “Nice personality, nice face-” Carmen took a worried glance at the office door and then looked up at Natalie with wide eyes.

“Why, why, what are you-?” He was flustered. 

“I’m just sharing my observations. You don’t think she has a nice face-?”

“This is a business, we try to keep professional.” Carmen hid his fumble with fake professionality, unfortunately Natalie saw right through it. 

“Try?” Natalie teased. Carmen looked away to pretend to look for some dried porcini. He felt like an idiot. He understood why people used to see him as an easy target when he was younger, he basically showed everyone his buttons, and asked them to get pushed. Carmen continued to chop in silence. 

“I'm sorry, I just got a bit excited. I won't push.” Natalie gave her brother the benefit of the doubt, she always thought he would never get into a serious relationship but he liked y/n and y/n seemed like the serious girlfriend type. Natalie couldn’t help but nudge Carmen in the right direction. 

Carmen chopped in silence for a few minutes, debating if he should tell Natalie about the kiss. In his mind, he didn’t know if it was too soon for him to introduce his girlfriend to his family. Calling y/n his girlfriend felt unreal, past him wouldn’t believe it even if he saw it.  

He handed his notebook to Natalie so she could read measurements to him, he wanted her here for just a bit longer till he gained the courage to tell her about y/n. 

Tagliatelle with porcini mushrooms was the first test item of the morning, and he had to soak the dried porcini for 30 minutes, he was bummed that the market didn't have the fresh kind but he knew he would get the real shit when y/n got a hold of that vendor. He looked up at Natalie and tilted his head to indicate that they should leave. Carmen avoided the alley because he knew that y/n would look there first and he didn’t want her to overhear anything. They walked over to a nearby supermarket and started roaming the aisles. It was nearly empty because it was six in the morning. 

“I did something…and I need you to not…just listen and don’t make it a big deal.”

“I got it, Carmy.” 

“A while ago, I…” Carmen looked at all the different types of instant noodles they had on display. “So, we were in deep shit with these pre-orders and I was a mess and y/n and I were talking after…” Carmen moved over to the boxed pasta, he didn't intend to buy anything but he did read the nutritional facts.

“I umm, asked her to…” Jesus, Carmen wondered, why he didn’t make more friends so he didn’t have to talk to his older sister about something like this. Richie didn’t seem capable of giving any advice that wasn’t, “Just Do It”.

 “We ki…” Natalie kept her face hard but the second that Carmen turned around to look at a box of elbow pasta, she couldn't help herself but let out a small, barely audible squeal of delight. Her eyes widened, and a grin threatened to break through her determined facade. Natalie quickly covered her mouth with her hand, trying to contain her elation, making sure not to let Carmen catch a glimpse. She stifled her excitement with every fiber of her being, preserving the illusion of calmness for when Carmen turned back around, none the wiser.

“It’s been a while, and we k…” Carmen didn’t know how he was supposed to maturely ask for advice when he couldn’t even say a kiss in front of his sister while cringing. Carmen couldn’t do this, it was too open, too vulnerable. 

Nat cut him some slack and started asking questions instead, “Was it a one time thing?” Carmen subtly shook his head no. Her lips parted as she squeezed a jar of Pego to contain herself. 

“Do you regret it?” Carmen didn’t respond but that didn’t mean no, that ment that she was getting closer to the root of the problem.

“Do you think she’s going to regret it?” Carmen’s shoulder’s raised slightly, bingo. 

“Why don’t I gauge how she is feeling at dinner.” Nat knew he was about to run away from her for exposing too much and she had to give him an incentive to not follow his instincts. 

She continued, “We talked earlier, she said she hates your cooking.” Carmen’s head snapped up, Nat knew that y/n was just joking but it was still a bit funny to mess with Carmen. 

The look of shock transported her back to when she was eight sitting next to Carmy and watching Micheal convince him to finish a glass of milk or else he would lose all of his teeth to a calcium deficiency. This wasn’t the time to reminisce but it made her heart warm knowing that even after going through so much, there was still a part of young Carmy that persevered. She was feeling the burning in the back of her eyes, her hormones were making her sentimental. 

“Yeah she said that your food fucking blows.” Carmen caught on and let out a small laugh.

They both roamed in the aisle moving on to juices. Sugar free, diet, pineapple, orange. Carmen’s eyebrows raised when he saw the price of orange juice before putting it down and deciding to just make his own. 

Carmen started, “She isn’t the type of person who changes her mind easily,” but if she can make that shift to see him in a good light, maybe she'll stick around and eventually see the real Carmen—a pathetic, insecure loser. All he did was make a promise to her but he knew it meant nothing without actions, and he was unsure if he could control his anger or keep his obsessiveness in check when something especially difficult happened. If another shit storm made its rounds in the kitchen, would he really be able to be the bigger person? Carmen doubted it. 

Carmen just ripped off the bandaid, “I don’t know how to…I want her to not hate me. I know I'm going to..” Carmen waited till a child next to them moved to the other end of teh aisle towards his dad, “..fuck it up, but I dont want that to happen.” 

“What makes you think she is going to hate you?”

“When we were talking…she told me that I should have done better. And that I…needed to be “stable”, but I don’t know how to be that for myself, let alone someone else.”

“She isn’t asking you to do it for her, she wants you to do it for yourself.” Natalie offered. 

“Its like having to solve a word search to answer a stupid fucking puzzle. I don’t…” Carmen sighed in defeat. Nat knew that he was strong and it was impossible for her to fix this for him but that still made her palms itch seeing him struggle like this. She racked her brain, desperately seeking any glimmer of a solution that could offer him even a shred of relief. 

They both walked out the market towards the restaurant. “It's really hard…and it's not that I don’t want to, it just feels impossible.” Carmen muttered, he was close to giving up. 

A burning sensation welled up in the back of Natalie's throat, and she instinctively placed her hand on Carmen's shoulder as a gesture of support and to her surprise Carmen looked at her, saw her glassy eyes and hugged her. The shock knocked a few tears from her eyes.. 

Carmy was not a selfish person but Nat noticed that he was becoming a bit more aware that he takes up much more space then he originally thought he did. He now knew that his presence was big enough to be able to tear people down but was also big enough to offer meaningful support. He had come to understand his own significance, and this realization struck Natalie like a tidal wave, causing her to burst into uncontrollable sobs. 

“Does crying mean I'm fucked, Sugar?” Carmen asked, his voice tinged with humor and uncertainty, as he gently rubbed Natalie's back for comfort. Nat shook her head no.

“You'll be okay. You always are.” Nat wiped her face before continuing to walk back to the restaurant. 

Carmen snuck a few glances to see what was making his sister a sobbing mess, she wasn’t the type to break down like that, “Are you good?” Natalie nodded her head.

“Everything good at home?” It felt strange to say the word home, even after visiting multiple countries and living in many different apartments, Carmen couldn’t really call any place home. Home was supposed to be a sanctuary of warmth, Carmen's closest experience to that feeling was back in his family house—a place where the warmth was scalding and suffocating. Where it was a constant waiting game, anticipating the intense heat to escalate and cause everything, and everyone, to boil over. 

Carmen was acutely aware that he would never have a home quite like Sugar's. He couldn't help but wonder if he had what it took to be like Pete for someone else—always helpful, kind, and perhaps a little too accommodating. He questioned whether he had the capacity to fulfill that role and maintain his own sense of self. Granted, what about his “self” was worth preserving?

Natalie nodded her head but Carmen wasn’t convinced. “It's just a lot, you know. Seeing the place getting renovated. I used to hate that place, but..” She sighed, “...I picked up Micheal’s tax returns, I didn’t even need them for anything…I just wanted to see them to know what he was going through towards the…'' end. She didn’t need to finish for Carmen to know what she was talking about. They were in front of the restaurant and Carmen gave her a side hug and against his better judgment he tried his hand in verbal reassurance so he could be there for her, fully. 

“I think he tried his best to make everything look fine, and it’s nice to know that he was at least able to pretend till the...end.” Sugar looked up at him and didn’t comment on his successful attempt to be her support, not wanting to scare him. 

They wordlessly walked in the restaurant and Carmen finished up his dish. He made enough for one plate because he was expecting to have to remake it a few times. He grabbed a small plate and served a separate plate for y/n before knocking on her door. She looked up at him, not hearing him and gave him a “hmm” which echoed in his chest. She sat with them in the kitchen, taking her laptop with her. They all took the first bite together. Carmen watched both women’s reactions to gauge their uncensored reactions. Natalie’s eyebrows raised and she gave him a nod of approval. 

Y/n took a bite and looked up from her plate so see Carmen staring at her. “Why are you staring?”

“Do you not like it?” 

“It’s good.” Y/n put her fork down and propped up her head on her hand. 

“But, you didn’t-”

“I’m not really a foodie, so food is never like…” Y/n made an explosion sound and flicked her hands open, “Good, is the best you going to get out of me.” Natalie wondered how a chef and an anti-gourmet foodie were going to work. 

“Is all food just ”good”?” Y/n looked up and tried to think of food that was better than good.

“I like mom's cooking.” 

“What is her food like?”

“Intense…subtly in food doesn’t mean anything to me because I don’t taste the difference.” Carmen was waiting for more for y/n.

“I ate a lot of spicy, sour and bitter food growing up. My mom didn’t think that kids should eat different things than everyone else, so I guess pasta and mushrooms will always be just “good”.” Y/n felt like she was just shitting all over his profession but he asked for her opinion so he couldn’t get offended now. 

Carmen nodded his head before walking away. Y/n pierced her lips and looked over to Natalie wondering if she hurt Carmen’s feelings. Natalie looked just as bewildered. Just as y/n was about to find Carmen, he came out with a few more ingredients.

“What are you making?” 

“Something you will like.” 

“I liked what you made-” 

“Good is not enough.” 

“Come on, Carmen, it's something that everyone will like, it’s going to kill opening day.”

“But you have to like it.” Y/n sighed before indicating that he should continue. 

“You won’t be able to serve the food I like to eat, it would be considered a biological weapon.” Y/n was warning him but Carmen thought she was teasing him. He would learn to listen to her warning in the future. He put the porcini mushrooms to the side before getting started on some penne all’arrabbiata. 

Y/n laughed at him knowing that he wouldn’t have the courage to spice up a dish to her standard before grabbing her laptop so she could get some work done and also talk to Natalie about contractors. 

While Carmen chopped and stirred, y/n subtly glanced up at his flexing back and strong arms. She thought she was hiding it well but when she went to check if Natalie noticed she saw that Natalie was already watching her. Natalie snickered as y/n hid her face behind her laptop to hide her embarrassment. Carmen turned around to see what was so funny but was just met with the view of both of them with their faces hiding behind their hands. 

Y/n felt someone pass behind her and knew it was Sydney without having to look up. “Hey guys, what are we making?” She took a bite out of the pasta, which was slightly cooled but she still nodded her head. 

“It’s fire, chef. It would be great if it was hot, I want to remake it to see what it was supposed to taste like.”

Y/n couldn’t say that she completely forgave Sydney but y/n did respect that she went to Richie to give some type of apology after a while. Y/n could accept that the two of them wouldn’t be best friends, they just needed to be able to work together. 

Y/n went to Carmen’s locker before pulling out a few Tums for everyone, it looks like today was going to be pasta day because of her and she didn’t want to send everyone home with a stomach ache.

Carmen continued with his pasta, and served it in front of y/n. All the women took a bite,

“It’s got a kick to it.” Natalie said while reaching for a food container filled with water while wiping sweat from her brow. Sydney gave Carmen a, “This is fire, chef.” Y/n couldn't help but cringe inwardly at the comment because she knew she couldn't quite match their shared vernacular and the ease with which they expressed themselves with food. What private passion did y/n and Carmen share?

Carmen stared y/n down as she took a bite.

“It’s good.” Carmen waited for her to elaborate. “It’s too subtle.” 

Carmen smirked, “Yeah, next time I'll just make you a ball of fire for you to enjoy.” Y/n gave him a shit eating grin, it was just too fun not to mess with him, and when she saw him smile back she felt a bit of imaginary nostalgia, this was what she longed for back in New York. 

The restaurant was still closed for renovations and after a while a few other crew members came by to do some demo. Y/n was stuck on hold with the inspector's office when she was approached by Natalie, “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment so I've got to go, I’ll see you on Friday at eight.” 

The rest of the week flew by because they were on a very strict time crunch to open in a few months. Y/n wasn’t very worried but she could feel the nerves from everyone else and she knew it would be in bad taste to tell them to toughen up, so she let them be grown ups and deal with their own anxieties. 

On Friday, y/n left early to get ready for dinner, she opened an old moving box and pulled out a dress that she wore to an old work function. It was very tasteful because it was freezing outside. Y/n grabbed her gifts before running into Carmen’s car. Y/n took one look at Carmen and had to do a double take to make sure that she went into the right person’s car. Carmen’s hair was lighty slicked back, probably with pomade, and he was wearing a deep blue sweater with a white collar. 

“I didn’t know you had clothes other than aprons and Dickies.”

“You look..” Carmen marveled at the way her eyes sparkled with an inner radiance, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He knew he wasn’t able to get the full picture yet because they were in a dark car but he could only imagine what she would do to him when they went to the well lit house. “..great.” Carmen wanted to punch himself for being so unoriginal but he couldn’t focus on anything. 

“Thank you, you look good too. Blue is definitely your color..” Carmen’s fingers loosened around the steering wheel, compliments had always made him uneasy; he spent the majority of his life trying to make himself as small as possible and now he was pushed into the spotlight and he wondered if he even liked it?

“Carmen, can you look at me for a second?” And when he swiveled his head towards y/n, she squished his face lighty before giving his puckered lips a soft kiss. Just as she was about to lean back into her seat, Carmen, unable to resist, slipped his hand beneath her hair, grasping the back of her neck and drawing her in for a deeper, more passionate second kiss. 

Yeah, he liked it.

“We are going to be late.” Y/n whispered before giving him one last peck. Carmen, still in a daze, fiddled with the radio so he could get his head straight. The ride to his sister’s house was quiet barring the soft jazz. Y/n was very nervous, they never had that conversation that said that they were official and for all she knew she was just a friend that Carmen kissed from time to time. She resisted the urge to ask right now because she was scared to find out that they were nothing more. She would savor the few minutes before she was inevitably introduced as a friend, or worse a co-worker. 

They pulled into Natalie’s driveway and got out of the car, y/n grabbed the bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine and they rang the doorbell. 

"Why are you holding the tray like that?" Y/n asked, noticing how Carmen clung to it like a shield. Before she could receive a response, Natalie opened the door with a warm greeting, inviting them inside. Y/n handed over the gifts, but Carmen still clung onto his belongings. Just then, Peter descended the stairs, seemingly about to approach Carmen for a hug before his gaze landed on Carmen's protective tray. He hesitated and stepped back, realizing it was acting as a barrier. Y/n stifled a laugh, biting her cheek to prevent herself from laughing at Carmen’s immaturity.

Carmen greeted, “Pete.” Y/n could feel the dislike and she felt bad for Pete because he seemed nice.

“Carmen, it’s good to see you, man.”

“This is my girlfriend, y/n.” A sense of numbness overwhelmed her. It was like when people get run over by a semi and say that they don’t feel anything. Y/n extended her hand to shake Pete's, and she followed him into the living room. 

Carmen went into the kitchen to help Natalie and y/n made pleasant conversation with Pete, he seemed a bit soft but she could understand why Natalie might want someone like him. Y/n pretended to be interested when he showed her his Cubs memorabilia, she initially thought the Cubs were a fictional sports team made by the New Girl writers. 

Y/n and Pete walked over to the kitchen and asked if they needed any help. Pete looked like he wanted to actually be helpful but y/n had her fingers crossed hoping she didn’t have to do any cooking. It was weird to see Carmen let someone else take the lead while he watched. Even with Sydney, he still watched over everything like a hawk, not because he didn’t trust her, it's just because he wouldn’t let her fail. 

Y/n watched as everyone spoke and she wondered where she fit in. Natalie and Carmen were obviously close and Pete was doing his best to get close to Carmen, trying to bridge the obvious gap between them. Y/n had to stop herself from telling Carmen to either be nicer or for Pete to drop it.

Other than being Carmen’s new “girlfriend” and sharing small talk, what else was there for her to talk about? Y/n didn’t know them well but she could tell there was a lot of subtext between the three of them that added weight to their interactions that she wasn’t privy to yet. She was a flame trying to suck in any bubble of oxygen so she could ignite, she needed more information before she could actually join them.

 It felt like she was reading Dune for the first time, being dropped in the middle of an already moving plot and she was scrambling to play catch up. Carmen had a lot of triggers and she wondered if Natalie was the same. Even if they acted completely differently, y/n could tell that they were sidestepping something, like they were avoiding talking about a gaping bullet wound, and if siblings were acting like that it means that it's a problem with the parents. Despite the fact that they were in the kitchen, the three of them weren’t talking about the food. Y/n made a mental checklist of a few rules; 1. Don’t bring up parents 2. Don't mention food because it's a trigger 3. Pay attention to Natalie because she was not as good at hiding her feelings as Carmen. 

Dinner was served and they all took a seat, y/n took slow sips of wine and saw that Natalie’s wine was slightly darker than hers. Y/n was sitting across Natalie so she recognized the smell too, apple. She was drinking sparkling apple cider. Y/n hid her smirk by talking another sip, she would be a spy or something because she was killing it in the recon department. 

Dinner was starting to feel stiff, y/n took a deep breath and turned to Natalie, “Your cooking is to die for.” Natalie tucked in her lips but couldn’t help but hide her smile, y/n never told Carmen anything like that, barring the first day she got to Chicago, it was a petty way of getting back at him for blindsiding her by calling her his girlfriend. 

“Thanks, It's a family recipe.” Y/n wanted to stab herself with the fork, she just broke rule one and two. Just as y/n was about to make some asinine comment to change topics, Carmen did it for her.

“Can you pass me the bread, Sugar?” Y/n found her opening.

“Sugar, that’s a nice nickname, what’s the story?” 

Natalie paused and y/n had a feeling she fucked up, “We were having this Chrismas family thing and I added a cup of sugar into the gravy instead of salt. The name just stuck.” Y/n definitely fucked up, she was breaking rules left and right. Y/n scrabbled to put herself in the same level as Natalie.

“I’ve been there. My parents were having a few co-worker over for lunch and they brought a box of these expensive mangos and I was told to make some smoothies because it was boiling that day. I filled up the sugar container with salt without noticing and made them smoothies with a ton of salt.” Y/n saw that all eyes were on her and she didn’t allow herself to be nervous because she was trying to get a deeper point across.

Y/n continued, “I have never heard that many people gag all at once.” Their faces broke into a smile.

“What did your mom say?” Bingo, looks like the taboo parent could be narrowed down to their mother. 

“She didn’t say anything bad, she and her co-workers just laughed. I mean I was a kid and we all make mistakes. I ended up making lemonade instead.”

Natalie’s eyes lit up,“It’s a shame that all those mangos went to waste.” Natalie joked. 

“Waste?” Y/n had a fake offense, “I drank the rest to prove that it wasn’t that bad.”

“Was it that bad?” Pete asked.

“My blood pressure was through the roof. It was the first time I ever got a headache.” 

The rest of dinner was a bit more relaxed, y/n was expecting Carmen to talk a bit more because these were his people but it looked like she would have to do the talking for the both of them. They finished up dinner and y/n got up to help them clean up. It was y/n and Carmen alone in the kitchen while Natalie went upstairs to check on something, aka she needed some rest and Pete went to check up on her. 

As Carmen washed the dishes, Y/n stood by, towel in hand, drying them. The domestic scene felt comfortable, yet she couldn't determine if she truly enjoyed this newfound domesticity. She wondered if in Carmen’s eyes she was merely playing the role of the perfect partner – someone who could effortlessly navigate his family dynamics, fix his business, and be his own manic pixie dream girl. 

A selfish thought crossed Y/n's mind. What was she truly gaining from this relationship? She had been too afraid to make a move with Carmen after the kiss, fearing that one misstep could lead her to being shut out completely. She hesitated to voice her preferences about his food, to ask about the nature of their relationship, or to discuss their future plans if this relationship fell through. Y/n wasn't one to dwell in discomfort, except for her previous job, and she felt frustrated that she had to jump through so many hoops just to ensure that Carmen wouldn't leave.

They finished the dishes and y/n could tell that Carmen wanted to check on Natalie but he didn’t want to leave y/n alone. Y/n being a supportive girlfriend, practically pushed him up the steps before walking out the front door and leaning on the porch. Y/n grabbed her jacket and walked out. She underestimated the frigid Chicago air which felt like a sharp slap to her face, serving as a wake-up call. It reminded her that the warm and fuzzy feeling she had been battling within herself was merely fleeting, and that the reality of the world could be much harsher and more painful. 

Y/n couldn’t help but wonder why Carmen was even bothering with her, they had nothing in common but the restaurant. Work was everything for him and Sydney, their shared connection always pulled them together despite both of their volatile personalities. What pulled y/n and Carmen together? They both worked in the restaurant but Carmen didn’t have a passion for running said restaurant, it was a mere obligation that y/n took from him. If she stopped working there, what else did they have in common? 

Y/n came to the daunting realization that Carmen picked Sydney because he saw potential in her, a chance to let both him and her grow. However, he didn’t pick y/n because he saw something deeper in her, it was an act of embarrassed desperation. 

Was she just a means to help Carmen get his shit together? The restaurant meant a lot to Micheal and after he died Carmen stopped seeing the restaurant as something that was out of his reach but as something to connect him to his brother, a small thread connecting the estranged brothers. Y/n was there to hold up the connection in the vaguest of ways, she kept the restaurant afloat so Carmen could come to terms with Micheals’s legacy, good and bad.

She was lost in thought when she heard the door close, she turned her head to see Carmen was already lighting a cigarette. It was difficult for her to be objective when Carmen locked eyes with her with such intensity. Y/n ripped her eyes from him and faced forward looking at the neighbor's yard, they had nice shrubs. 

“I thought you left.” Carmen started as he leaned on the railing with y/n. He looked forward to see what was so interesting that y/n couldn’t look him in the face, it was just some trees.

“I needed some air.”

“You could catch a cold.” 

“I don’t get sick, sick is a mindset.” Y/n was obviously joking. 

She lowered her head so that she could feel the cold metal on her forehead, maybe a different type of pain would make this conversation easier. Her forehead landed on something warm, the back of Carmen’s hand. She turned her head to its side but remained connected to Carmen’s hand. The warmth radiating on her cheek was making her stomach do backflips. Even if she knew she shouldn’t be indulging like this she couldn’t help it. He felt too good and y/n was getting more and more greedy. 

“Hey, Carmen?” Carmen was still staring at y/n. “What do we have in common?” He looked taken aback.

“We like each other…” He was starting to feel the slow slitter of nausea because he knew the other shoe was about to drop.

“If we don’t have much in common, what do we talk about?” 

“We can talk about whatever we like. It’s nice to…be with someone who isn't wrapped up in the same things as me.” Carmen expressed a genuine warmth in his voice. Carmen wanted to say that she made him feel like the roof wasn’t going to collapse on him and that the small things weren’t going to destroy him but it felt selfish to describe how much he cared for her based on how she made him feel and not on facts about her. 

“I don’t care about fancy food.” Y/n blurted out.

Carmen chuckled, “You know about the vendors, where the supplies are sourced, how much they cost, and a bunch of other stuff. You do care, just in a different way than I do.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It gives me perspective. It’s very realistic and grounded.” Y/n knew he was calling her realistic and grounded. 

“I like hearing you talk about my food.” Carmen offered.

“Even if it’s just “good”?”

“Especially if it's just "good". That means you're telling me the truth.” Carmen recalled a ninth grade world history lesson about the Rosetta Stone, an artifact written in three different languages and made it possible to translate some ancient language. Though he hadn't fully paid attention during the lesson, Carmen now saw the parallel. If Y/n had the courage to express her opinions on his food, it meant she was being honest with him about everything else. 

Y/n cracked a smile before covering her mouth and started laughing. It was a jarring sound, Carmen couldn’t pinpoint what the laugh was meant to convey but he knew it wasn’t good. 

“What?” Carmen asked, Y/n rubbed her face with her cold hands. 

“You said that you were scared of me a while back but now…” Y/n's laughter softened into a smaller chuckle, conveying a mix of amusement and irony.

“I’m scared of you.” The weight was lifted off her shoulders and slammed down on Carmen's. Y/n wondered if this is how the rest of their relationship was going to be; one person transferring their hurt to the other till the weight became too much to bear. 

"It's... I want to bring so many things up to you but..." Y/n wondered if this counted as an accusation. "..you’re so flighty. I don't know what to say that won't make you..." Y/n struggled to find a word that didn't feel so definitive, but the only word that felt honest was, "...leave."

The porch fell into an uneasy silence, both of them grappling with the weight of Y/n's vulnerability.

"I...I didn't realize..." Carmen stammered, his voice betraying his inner turmoil. "I would never just... leave." They both stared in silence, they knew that wasn’t true. Y/n lifted her head leaving the warmth behind, she knew this wouldn’t work if he made false promises. And against everything telling her to just accept his promise as law and ignore any doubts, she couldn’t fool herself like that. 

“That’s such bullshit.” Y/n lighty giggled. It felt as though a shark had promised to stop swimming—it was ingrained in their nature. In that lighthearted moment, a mischievous thought crossed Y/n's mind: What would happen if Carmen actually stopped running away? Would he cease to exist, like a fish in space? 

Her playful musings, though immature, offered a brief respite from the weight of their conversation. It was a temporary escape, a way to diffuse the tension. Y/n noticed that she brought all this shit up to comfort herself but she was giggling to make him feel safe. Even when she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn't help but try to make him feel better. 

As the laughter subsided, Y/n met Carmen's eyes, she forced herself to ignore the emotions he was conveying and instead tried to match his eyes with things she had seen in the past. If this ended poorly, she would miss his eyes the most and she wanted to know what else could match in intensity in case she never got to see him like this ever again, nothing came to mind.

Carmen felt like he was backed into a corner, he couldn’t promise her anything without her, justifiably, doubting him. 

"I don't want to leave you," Carmen offered, his voice carrying a mixture of sincerity and vulnerability. It was the most honest response he could offer at that moment. He couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't feel the urge to run, to escape when things got tough, but he had a genuine desire to stay. 

Y/n's eyes met Carmen's, her expression softened. She knew it wasn't a perfect answer, but it was a step forward. It was enough to know that he acknowledged his own complexities and still chose to be present with her.

They stood in the quiet watching neighbors turn off their living room lights and go upstairs. She wanted to test out whether, “They could talk about whatever they wanted too.” 

“What do you think they’re doing?” Y/n asked, Carmen parted his lips and turned his face to look at y/n so see if she was serious, she was.

“I think they go to bed and she has this super long night time routine and he is already asleep by the time she gets to bed. You?” Y/n knew that if they ever slept over at each other’s place, that’s exactly what would happen between them. 

“She probably got home from a shit day and she starts reading an easy romance book…Do you read any books?”

“They are mostly cooking stuff.” He took a drag from his cigarette.

“You read cookbooks for entertainment?”

“Sometimes, it's a part of the craft.” Carmen realized how fucking pretentious he sounded and was a bit ashamed but seeing y/n refrain from teasing him by bitting her lips made him not want to crawl into a hole and die of shame, her smile was addicting. “…but there is a lot of history and science too. '' Carmen knew he sucked at conversation but he would do anything to keep talking. 

“What was your last book?” 

Y/n and Carmen kept talking till they lost track of time and eventually when they had reached a comfortable lull, y/n could confidently say that they were in fact capable of holding a conversation about mundane shit. 

Against every fiber of her being telling her to end their conversation like this, she couldn’t help but ask, “What happens…if this ends?” Y/n didn’t know if she was supposed to use “if” or “when”; one was cautious, the other was a prophecy. 

Carmen didn’t look back at her, instead giving her, “You’ll still have a job…I’m not a dick…all the time.” Y/n lips curved upwards. 

“Will you be able to work with someone you’ve been in a relationship with?” 

“Yes.” Carmen wondered if the answer could ever be anything other than yes. 

Y/n knew that if this ended badly she would be allowed to stick around so that Carmen would have an excuse to throw himself at his work. She would be the catalyst to merge him from an individual to a vague reflection of Micheal’s legacy. 

Whether or not Carmen knew it, Micheal was a huge influence in his life and just like Micheal began to isolate himself towards the end, Carmen would do the same if they drifted apart. It was his inherent weakness and a relationship gone sour that would make it difficult for him to break the cycle that Micheal had started. 

“I won’t stay if it hurts you, Carmen.”

“I would want you to stay, y/n.”

“There is no trophy that comes with going through unnecessary shit.”

“I know, I would still need you.” Carmen hesitated but eventually placed his hand top on y/n's. 

“Because I can do the books?” Y/n rolled her eyes jokingly. 

“No…you do more than that. You are…” Carmen read books with a shit ton of adjectives, they had to be descriptive to describe food through text. Despite that, he was at a loss for words to describe her.

"You are..." he began again, this time his voice was a little gentler than before. He took a deep breath, hoping that he could find those words that would express everything he felt.

"You are very important to me,". His voice was soft like he was realizing this for the first time. 

The second time was meant for y/n, "You are very important to me."  I love you, y/n. 

Y/n locked eyes with Carmen for a moment. 

"You are important to me too." I love you, Carmen.

Neither of them had the courage to say that to each other, wondering if they were the only one’s feeling like this. 

They both had jackets on but y/n’s hands were freezing and she could feel Carmen’s hand was also ice cold. She knew that they had both reached their limits but y/n couldn’t help but relish in the cold for a bit longer. 

For y/n, the biting cold was always a catalyst for clarity, stripping away the unnecessary and forcing y/n to distill her focus onto the few things that mattered. Amidst the frost, she found solace in the simplicity. It was within this chilling environment that she discovered a clear chance to confront her inner turmoil head-on and confront the world. 

Carmen had always been drawn to the intense heat. It was as if the scorching temperatures matched the fire that burned within him, igniting his passion and driving him forward but leaving him with nothing to look back on. Extreme heat was his poison of choice, his way of confronting the world. 

Carmen’s heat was turning her mind into a messy slurry of slush. Y/n had to force herself to focus despite the fact that Carmen’s hand was providing her with a sliver of intoxicating  warmth.

“You didn’t ask me to be your girlfriend.” Carmen’s head shot up aback by y/n's words. He was excited to introduce her to his family, and he hadn't thought to ask her permission first. He tried to explain himself, his words coming out in a rush.

"I didn't mean to assume anything. I just thought that since we've been seeing each other for a while now, it was... " He took a moment to catch his breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“I think you should try asking first.” Carmen stared at y/n not knowing if this was a trap to get rejected twice. He opted for silence.

“Carmen, ask me if I want to be your girlfriend?” Carmen didn't want to say the wrong thing, not when it was so important, for someone so important. Carmen trusted y/n so he stubbed his cigarette on the ashtray before taking a deep breath and asking, “Will you be my girlfriend, y/n.” 

Y/n wrapped her freezing hands around his neck accidentally grazing her finger on his neck making him shiver. She leaned in against his lip and even though they had kissed before this, Carmen felt like he couldn’t think. Y/n lips barely touching Carmen’s before whispering a soft, “Yes, Carmy.” 

Carmen closed the small gap between their lips. And y/n felt a gentle heat seep through the folds of her head making it difficult to focus on her freezing fingers, or her numb toes, or her goosebump riddled legs, or her shivering arms. Y/n felt Carmen pull her closer and even though they were as close as physically possible, it wasn’t enough. Carmen’s lips left y/n’s before trailing down the column of her neck, y/n could feel the blossoming of heat radiate from his lips. Y/n’s hands sank down to Carmen’s waist and slowly drifted up his shirt. The cold sent shivers down his spine as y/n’s hands moved at a glacial pace. 

Just as Carmen reached the collar of her jacket he looked up at her and y/n had to resist every irrational and reckless part of her that told her to continue. The realization that they were on Carmen’s sister’s porch made y/n look around to ground herself. She landed on a black box right near the door before looking back to Carmen with her mouth agape and her eyes wide open. 

“What?” Carmen questioned with furrowed eyebrows.

“We are on your sister's porch.” Y/n said with a thousand yard stare and a distant mutter.

“I’m not a fucking animal, obviously we aren’t going to do this here.” Y/n softly grasped Carmen’s face before turning towards the black box, a doorbell camera. 

“Jesus…fuck.” They both looked at each other before y/n scrambled inside with Carmen right behind her. Either they were caught and they had to face Natalie despite the embarrassment or they got to the footage before Natalie saw it.  

Y/n let Carmen lead her to Natalie’s room, who thankfully was still laying on her side, Pete had gone to the restroom. 

Y/n leaned up to Carmen before whispering, “Distract her.” Carmen sat near Natalie and asked her if she wanted some ginger-ale or if he should stop by a pharmacy. 

Natalie's phone was on the nightstand and y/n swiped it when Natalie wasn’t looking before unlocking her phone with the password she acquired from being noisy. She then deleted the footage of the last hour from her Ring app. Y/n wanted to scroll back a few months to watch Carmen call her for the first time but she didn’t have enough time. 

Y/n set the phone exactly how she found it and gave Carmen a subtle thumbs up. 

“I’m fine, I think I need to sleep this off.” Natalie sat up while glancing at y/n and y/n had to resist freezing like a criminal caught in the spotlight. 

“I’m really sorry-” Natalie started.

“Please don’t be. I had a great time. Is there anything we can do for you before we leave?” Y/n felt bad for taking advantage of Natalie’s pregnancy induced sickness but this was a matter of prestige, she wouldn’t be able to set foot in this house if Natalie ever saw the footage.  

Natalie shook her head no and they said their goodbye’s before Camren and y/n practically tripped over themselves running out of that house. They sprinted to the car and slammed the doors shut before bursting out laughing. Y/n felt like she was a teenager again, sneaking her boyfriend out the fire escape before her mom walked in. Carmen pushed his forehead into the steering wheel to laugh and the sound that echoed felt like it was melting itself into y/n’s brain, forever branded into her memory. 

“How many times have you been here, Carmen? You never noticed the fucking camera, you dick?” Y/n struggled to shake off the heat that pulsed up her body, Camren hadn’t even started the car yet and she was burning up. 

“I…I never looked, what kind of freak looks?”Carmen said in between laughs. Y/n gave him a fake look of disapproval.

“Turn the car on, Berzatto, you’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

Carmen turned on his car before pulling out of Natalie’s driveway, he was still snickering and in the streetlight y/n could see his neck turn bright red. 

“Stop by a CVS or something.” Y/n said while fiddling with the radio.

“You think you caught something from Nat.” Y/n resisted telling him that pregnancy wasn’t contagious, men are so fucking stupid. 

“You have condoms on you?” Carmen slammed on the break, lucky they were at a red light.

“N...no.” Scarlet crawled up his neck and up his face. Y/n didn’t know someone’s ears could ever get that red before. Carmen stayed still trying to collect his fractured thoughts. 

“It's green, Carmen.”

He stepped on the gas and y/n was glad that the roads were practically empty because he was driving like he had all the insurance in the world. He pulled over to a Walgreens and ran out of the car. Y/n shook her head at his shit parking, he was in between two spots. Carmen came back in a minute with a plastic bag, y/n could decipher from the shapes that he had also bought some gatorades too. 

Carmen pulled out of the parking lot.

Y/n didn’t recognize the streets on their ride back, “Your place?” 

“Mine is closer.” Carmen replied, his voice tinged with a mix of anticipation.

Y/n could help but giggle, she always loved it when he was desperate. She knew it was wrong, but she always felt such a rush of excitement when her control over him was at its pinnacle and they both knew it.

When they reached a stop sign, y/n glanced over at Camren and saw that he was already looking back at her. 

They couldn’t seem to care that they were wading in uncharted waters and they couldn’t convince themselves that this was going to end badly enough for them to not at least try. If they looked at each other like that, there was no way they were going to let each other go. 

__

End Notes:

Fire + Ice = Vapor; It took me an embarrassing amount of time to think of that.

There is a lot of tension and maturity that needs to be written in smut for it to be good and I just can’t do that. I tried for this one and I had to close my laptop and take a lap because the second hand embarrassment was too much. So those drafts have been deleted and I’m glad I never have to see them again. 

I didn't think people would like Turbulence, I was going to delete it after a few hours and just keep it to myself but i'm glad that people liked it so ig it's here to stay. I tried to keep this one more contained then Turbulence bc writing about multiple days is such a pain.

I really don’t know what else I might write about for these two, or in general, so if you have any suggestions feel free to send them to me. If your suggestion inspires me, you better believe that I'm going to get out of bed at 2 in the morning and start writing. Or we can bury these two in a shallow grave and forget they exist, which is also fine by me because I think fic aged me.

[the-rini-rush]

Dear Ryuuni, I am pleased to announce that you have the official invitation to…

The Golden Frost Festival!

Event Summary !

Ryuuni has gotten a highly coveted invitation to an event thats only hosted every ten years! Because of NRC's... interesting actions with it's invites... so it hasn't received an invite in almost a century! not even a single student!

so Ryuuni was confused to see the peculiar letter in the mail, but to hear that they got one.. everyone at NRC was suddenly very interested and nice to their 14yr old enrolled student. :D

Invitation states that Ryuuni can take 4 people! (2 canon + 2 ocs)

the invited oc guests will be chosen by a raffle!

The festival happens when the smaller fairies of nature gather and make a big deal out of the switching of hot summer to cool fall and eventually winter! they all gather to watch their queen cast the weather! (because the royals always cast the weather, this event doesn’t happen often because of safety reasons)

all accompanied by stunning visuals, music, food, and games!

Canon Characters!

-- Ryuuni

-- Jamil (you can make it, or don't its ok)

-- Jack (DRAWN BY @skriblee-ksk)

Background for the Cards! + concepts/outfit info

(yes this event was inspired by EAH)

having trouble? figure out the general aesthetics through this video! (certain parts have nothing to do with the festival, so i suggest skipping to 5mins in)

Competing Inviters !

💌 Rose by @blood-red-bumblebee

💌 Flori by @bunniehunn

💌 Blanche by @screamintoad

💌 Sally by @babyghoul138

💌 Hopper by @theolivetree123

💌 Joseph by @readsrandomstuff67

💌 Yumi by @gimmeurmoneyagh

💌 Jewel by @jewelulu

💌 Delilah by @slumberingrose-fandom

💌 Yuyu by @anonymousplant

💌 Rolene + Flori by @cheerleaderman

💌 Anchor by @venaue

💌 Yumi by @twisted-wonderland-memories

💌 teddy by @yuus-sentient-teddy

reblogs are apprecited!

SUBMIT BY 9/15/24

you don’t need to submit art! edits or fics are fine too!

just remember to tag me and hashtag it as #golden-frost-fest 😎(no emoji, but yes dashes)

it’d be great if you all spread the word 😁 by tagging or reblogging <3

[hannieween]

✧ one year of hannieween! ✧

hannieween is turning a year old!

as a way to celebrate this blog turning one year old, I decided to make a kinktober special all about jeonghan since it's his birthday month, it's the month this blog turns one year old and halloween is coming up! (hence hannie + halloween)

so please do enjoy what i have prepared for you guys, i have been working on this for a minute for us to cherish our hannie and the month of kinktober 🙂‍↕���

since i write lengthy fics, i made the decision to post one per each week of october (so five posts in total), starting from october 1st

here are this year's hannieween fest fics!

lights out chapter 5 › pegging, cuckholding, spitroasting

gang leader hannie › dumbification, spit kink, degradation kink, voyeurism

demon hunter hannie — navi post › hate fucking, breath play, humiliation kink

loser hannie › corruption kink, toys, overstimulation, exhibitionism

vampire hannie › dubcon, blood play

if you would like to be tagged in the upcoming posts, please do say so through a comment here in this post, or send me an ask and i will tag you

that is it from me for now, i wish you all one very productive and healthy kinktober,

toodles!

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

by: Beck Levy

“Maybe now vocalists will finally start bringing their own mics,” I tweeted in the first days of March 2020. My virtual audience was mostly friends I met by participating in subcultures in and adjacent to the DIY tendency of hardcore punk rock. In those early days, we on the cultural fringes shared a sense that the pandemic, in its capacity as a social intervention, could meaningfully disrupt the oppressive ruling order.

When I booked and played shows before COVID-19 hit, I tried to harness energy and rally when crisis arose. Touring band is lost on the road? I was ready to DJ to keep people from leaving between sets. No one came to unlock the club? Let’s play in the parking lot. The last show I’d played, just weeks earlier during Mardi Gras, was on a trailer being pulled by a dump truck. We’re responsive to shifting circumstances, right?

I couldn’t get a clear look at the new terrain through the brutal haze of my first-wave infection. I was disoriented, waking up breathless, fevered, delirious from nightmares about drowning in my own blood. I could not fathom taking any action that would contribute to COVID-19 circulating, and my symptoms made me believe I would be a risk to my community. With home tests scarce, every flare had me conceiving of myself as though I might be a biological weapon.

Friends texted their fears to me frantically: “Is music over? Are shows done?” I thought back to informal and unconventional gigs, the freedom and potentiality those moments held, and reassured my friends, sequestered in our separate biomes. I said and believed: “Music always finds a way, youth culture always finds a way, underground culture always finds a way.”

Slowly, reimagined, remote, and socially-distanced events returned. In lieu of Jazz Fest, New Orleans radio station WWOZ charmed us with “festing in place” on the airwaves. I did a solo set in a virtual anniversary showcase for my old record label. Another friend live streamed a show from a cavernous church. I’d guessed performances mediated by technology might salt the wound, but desperate for connection, I treasured those experiences.

I watched my place in the world creep away from me. There were rumors of scandalous secret shows during lockdown. But the first real sign was pictures on Instagram of people traveling and touring again. Scroll to that last image: a row of COVID-19 tests, all negative, smug. Or positive, chagrined but only a little; a mismatch to the scale of: “For fun I traveled as a disease vector and personally participated in the proliferation of an airborne pathogen that can kill or maim.” Was it a character limit? A limitation of character?

The world passed me by, carouseling through normalization phases, like COVID-19 tests phasing their way out of tour posts. I watched scenes regroup from my new vantage point in biopolitical exile. Pandemic gloom catalyzed a spate of reunions, which is wholesome and beautiful except for the fact that at least one band knowingly toured with a member who tested positive.

Was I overreacting? While COVID-19 left me with an immune system that attacks my body, my mind attacked itself with this question. I’d traded amps for this mental feedback loop. The counterargument was implicit: people need unfettered access to music more than we need safety.

Live music came back. It just didn’t bring me with it.

I didn’t see a critical mass of bookers, venues, or bands advocating for COVID-19 safety with measures like outdoor shows, improved ventilation, livestream options, or just adding tests and masks to the earplug bin at the door. Some hand disinfectant; a little hygiene theater at conventional venues. The will just wasn’t there. I thought our deal was fuck the state, we’ll do it our way. I found myself slipping through the subcultural safety net that exists for outcasts who are slipping through the cracks of mass culture and late capitalism.

Of course, punk was already inaccessible to some. And I actually believe a certain amount of gatekeeping is necessary to protect punk from posers, jerks, and cops. But among the nebulous community clustered around shows, the sexism and racism people have experienced has always been very real, to the tune of entire zines, books, films about that exclusion. I monitored my heartbreak, critically. Resource-scarce, informal, and underground operations often exist at a quagmire of conflicting access needs. Was the sting of betrayal just this painful because it affected me, directly? Can the subaltern mosh?

There was a brief period where my baseline had plateaued, and I enjoyed medium-functionality between flares. Clinging to my modest recovery, a memorial service was my first congregant risk. That was the last time I tried to play guitar. I got the twisties, psychic vertigo from grief and from the contradiction of my setting and my experience, but the band played on, complete with a brass section. And at that otherwise beautiful event, I was ceremoniously reinfected by an asymptomatic tuba player. My health has been steadily deteriorating ever since.

Isolation is hard: it can feel like rejection, it can feel real personal. I struggled to adapt. I know I can have a persecution complex, but I also know I’m materially being made surplus. So what do I tell the complex? Are people being thoughtless, or do they explicitly not give a fuck about immunocompromised people like me?

Life is never totally safe, danger is often exciting, sometimes risk is the point. I know that. I’m not (just) a joyless scold. In the era of potentially deadly airborne pathogens, we’re playing with other lives when we make “individual” health decisions—I thought we’d learned that, but there was no such reckoning.

Punks accepted the sociological production of the end of the pandemic, moving in lockstep with the state, sacrificing medically vulnerable people on the altar of pleasure, just as the state had sacrificed us on the altar of capital. I thought our ingenuity would create new forms of shows. Instead, it exposed our limits under duress. To quote the band Allergic to Bullshit, “If this is what we’re for, this is what we’ll get.”

Maybe my shock seems naïve—after all, there’s a difference between “subculture” and “counterculture”—but there’s a reason I expected better. There are visionaries with love, passion, and fearlessness who organize shows in strip malls, caves, skateparks, churches, parking garages; shows with immediacy like distributing free Narcan, and conviction, like benefits toward Palestinian liberation. I await, with diminishing faith, the eruption of that tendency in the bioethical arena.

Since immune ableism is hegemonic, congregating is a question of building a realistic threat model, making decisions with people who are directly impacted by your actions, and taking all possible precautions. I’m encouraged by radical formations with accessibility modifications, particularly those connecting social abandonment, climate crisis, and genocide. I see this reflected in art book fairs that require masking, outdoor Shabbatot, test-first leftist reading groups. Queer and drag events are making adjustments. Mask blocs and clean air clubs collaborate, with limited resources, to make spaces more accessible. These are people who insist on collective health, demanding freedom to live and breathe clean air.

For those of us with severe Long COVID, exclusion from live music represents a profound loss of humanity. This disconnection feeds into my daily despair; in medical terms, my depersonalization/derealization. Having hoped this crisis would push us closer to communism than complacency, I feel whiplash, what Naomi Klein calls “political vertigo.” Millions of Americans with Long COVID have disappeared from the workforce. Data on the underground music scene are unavailable. It’s hard to count ghosts. I’ve wanted to ask: Have you noticed that some of us are gone? Do you ever miss us?

Four years later, I still can’t even make it to a well-filtered show. My last recreational outing ended in hospitalization from merely ascending a steep hill. I hear about shows from my roommate, the only person I see, who is also the only masked person at them. I tell myself I could try to go to an outdoor gig one day, maybe, if my governing health planets aligned. Instead of being an active musician, I pretend I’m like Jandek, a reclusive genius, but really I’m too clumsy and unfocused to play at home.

I do what I do with everything: act like I’m in a different world. It’s not difficult, because I am. The Well do their thing out there, I do mine in here. I moved across the country in search of better healthcare and, homebound, routinely forget I’m not still in New Orleans. Either way I am inside. I gave up and I don’t fight the world leaving me behind. I am back here, rolling the boulder of my body up steep hills.

In spite of everything, I’m glad shows continue. It’s bittersweet comfort knowing freaks are getting raucous in basements, with noise made by other freaks, sprayed with wet yells, aggressively jostling with teens; in a reprieve from control, experiencing music together. I’d die for your right to do that. And thanks to you, I just might.

[argisthebulwark]

TES Summer Fest Day Six: Mirror/Abandoned

summary: After years of avoiding it, Miraak catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. gn reader/Miraak, no gendered pronouns or y/n used. warnings: themes of body horror (scars, multiple/misshapen pupils), themes of body dysmorphia/unease with physical appearance. mentions of injury & battle. angst with comfort. @tes-summer-fest TES Summerfest Masterlist

Somewhere deep in his chest a chasm tears open. Miraak is flailing, falling deeper and deeper as his sense of self crumbles at the sight. Too many pupils flicker to where his chapped lips part, eyes so unfamiliar they make his stomach turn. What color had his eyes once been? He claws for a memory that is long gone, breaths huffing out too quickly when he fights to recall - were they green or blue?

A jagged, poorly healed scar cuts across his face. Of their own volition Miraak's eyes trace the old wound and he relives that awful day - his mouth stings with the taste of blood, phantom pain shimmering over his jaw in a memory of that beast's talons raking over his skin. Gods, it had been a simple mistake - he's usually so careful to avoid even a glance into the grimy mirrors. One careless look and now he's stuck there, shaky fingers mapping out the planes of a face he does not know.

Miraak had never considered himself especially handsome but there is something terrifying about seeing the visage of the beast he'd become under Mora's influence; swirls of ink covering tattoos he'd once admired, eyes that long ago shone with power now lifeless without his patron. He takes in the streaks of grey shooting through once dark hair and cannot remember when that happened.

Combing a hand through his unruly locks gives him a fleeting glance of the man he once was. He remembers how carefully he'd once braided it away from his face, the way it used to curl around his ears and meticulously cropping it to frame his jaw. Miraak's heart sinks at the memory of that man who sincerely thought he could be a hero.

"My love." Your voice breaks him out of the reverie, cheeks coloring as you thankfully give him something else to focus on. You wrap your arm so easily around his waist and lean in to his side, a little divot appearing between your brows when you stare at his reflection. Miraak cannot fathom how you stomach being so close to him - perhaps if he still resembled that young man he would understand, but time had robbed you of that chance.

"What are you doing?" You sound cautious and he wants to apologize for making you worry but he cannot summon the words. That chasm in his chest has stolen away his voice, barely enough room for him to suck in a breath around the horrible weight of grief. There's hardly enough energy for his eyes to slide back to his own reflection, knees weakening at the stranger he finds there.

"I was also stunned into silence when I first saw you." You grin, a sweet kiss pressed to his jaw. Miraak's eyes fall closed against the litany of excuses he doesn't have the energy to say. You worm deeper into his robes and Miraak feels a bit of that weight lighten, suddenly guilty for causing you to worry.

"You're the most handsome man I've ever seen."

"Don't jest." Miraak snorts, though his voice sound deflated.

"I would never joke about such a thing." Warm fingers wrench his jaw upward and Miraak's eyes fly open, relieved to see an annoyed flush in your face.

"What do you think I see when I look at you?" You demand, a finger jabbed toward the mirror.

"A monster."

"Incorrect."

"My dragon -"

"Do you think of me as a monster?" Your brows furrow deeper when you glare at his reflection. He looks at you, taking in old scars and marks from the many selfish gods who have tried to lay claim to you.

"Of course not."

"Yet you expect me to find you unappealing? If you must hate anyone, hate me - I am responsible for many of your scars." Your nose crinkles when you smile at him, hand falling to rest on his chest. That awful pit in his chest seems so much smaller when you lean into him, lips ghosting over his cheek. He will never forgive himself for killing the young man he'd once been, for robbing you of the chance to love a version of him that had so much more to offer.

Despite all the grief and regret he cannot help but marvel at the sheer trust in your motions; your eyes falling closed against his chest, his arm draped around your shoulders, the content little smile on your face. Each day you've looked at him without fear, you've kissed his scarred lips and gazed into his eyes with no hesitation.

"I think we fit together." You murmur the words against his skin and something clicks. Your scars, your wounds, the terrifying power he's seen you wield - he would never fault you for these things. When Miraak dares to look in the mirror one last time he thinks you may be right, there's something magnetic about how you fit together. Those years of suffering and madness suddenly seem so miniscule compared to the peace of holding you, his dragon.

Miraak supposes that he was made for you.

[savemefromanepicoftimewasted]

The Light Behind Your Eyes

Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader Task Force 141 X Platonic!F!Reader

“Gave us quite a scare, darling, try not to do that again, that’s an order.” Price’s laugh was thick and wet, clearing his throat to try and help stop the tears. “Not allowed to leave us just yet there sweetheart, not until you’re old and gray.” Gaz knew you could hear their jokes, even if they fell somewhat flat.

a/n:ahhhhh! this is thanks to my amazing friend @gaylemonshark fuel my angst filled heart, this was probably the angstiest thing I've written in a while! warnings:mentions of blood, wounds, near death experiences, blood loss, broken bones, it's a total angst fest

It was supposed to be an easy mission, get the intel and get it back to base so that Laswell can analyze it. None of you had been expecting the firefight that greeted you the moment the helicopter landed. Price had taken the lead, Ghost running alongside him as they did their best to take out any enemies that were within eyesight. They’d managed to get more than half, laying low to check ammo and make sure that everyone was alright. A sniper had nearly taken Soap out, you had tackled him to the ground when you noticed the little dot resting on his shirt.

He’d thanked you quickly before firing back his own shot, successfully taking out the sniper that had been firing at your group. Price had sent you, Ghost, and Soap into the building to retrieve any important information while he and Gaz scoured the area. It was unnervingly quiet as you scoured for any documents, or hard drives that you could snag.

“I don’t like this, it seems too easy.” Ghost was on edge, and that wasn’t something he felt often.

“It’ll be alright, we’ll get what we need and meet back up with Price.” You pushed open the door to your left, jaw dropped as you took in the amount of filing cabinets.

Shit, this was going to be a lot more difficult with the amount of information you’d be sorting through now. Shouldering your gun, you started pulling open different drawers to see if any of them held any important documents you needed. You pulled out any files with names that stuck out and laid them down on the table behind you. The stack stayed relatively small, which surprised you. Ghost and Soap were still in the main area, scoping every corner to look for any stragglers that might’ve been hanging around.

You’d been so in your head you hadn’t noticed the man slipping out of the closet closest to you, gun raised. The sound of the safety is what caught your attention, spinning around to face him.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Your body was thrown back against the filing cabinets, pain spreading throughout your body like a wildfire. Ghost slammed into the room, knife wedged into the kids throat before he could even react. You pressed your hands against your thigh, and abdomen, wincing at the blood seeping through your fingers.

“We need evac!” Soap threw himself down beside you, hoisting you into his arms as gently as he could.

“Get her outside, now.” Ghost wanted the man at his feet to suffer, but he’d already bled out in the few minutes it took them to gather the files and get you outside.

You couldn’t keep your eyes open, eyes half lidded as you struggled to take in your surroundings. Price was barking out orders, more concerned with keeping you safe and alive than getting the information back. How could they have let someone slip through their fingers and get to you? It wasn’t until they’d placed you in the heli that the pain seemed to really set in. Ghost’s hands were pressed against your thigh, Johnny cutting off your tac vest to get to the wound in your abdomen. 

“Make it stop!” Your throat felt raw with the guttural scream you let out.

The pain was unbearable, and this wasn’t the first time you’d been shot before. There would always be wounds, times where someone wasn’t quick enough to warn you. This? This was hell incarnated. Your body was turning cold, fingertips and lips turning blue as your heart rate plummeted. Soap and Ghost watched as the heart monitor flatlined, your body limp on the bed in front of them.

“Goddamnit! Open your eyes!” Price was screaming above the sound of the helicopter blades, frantic.

Price threw off his gloves, beginning CPR as they hooked up another blood transfusion. If they weren’t able to get your wounds to stop bleeding they wouldn’t be able to save you. Gaz’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking, pressing more gauze against the angry wound on your thigh.

“You better come back or so help me.” Price’s voice cracked with each press of his hand.

The subtle beep of the heart monitor relaxed him for only a second before he shifted to help get the bleeding to stop. They needed to get you somewhere where a doctor could help take care of you, now. Soap’s hands were shaking as he pressed another wad of gauze against your abdomen, they couldn’t lose you.

“Stay with us darling.” Gaz began to thread a needle, glad the bleeding had slowed for the few precious seconds he had.

You didn’t so much as flinch as the needle made contact with your skin, they only had so long before you bled out and lost the battle your body was fighting. Gaz worked as quickly as his hands, and your body, allowed him to. He glanced over to Ghost when he finished stitching the smaller of the two wounds. Ghost’s hands were covered in your blood, sinking into the cracks that adorned his flesh.

“Lift your hands, I need to close the wound.” Gaz wasn’t sure where the medic was, but right now he was downright pissed they hadn’t been nearby.

Ghost didn’t want to move, to watch you die in front of his eyes. It was all his fault anyway, he hadn’t noticed the man slip into the room and shoot you. He’d been too distracted checking the other rooms, checking each corridor carefully. Gaz worked quicker with the wound on your leg, knowing they’d need to cut the stitches to get the bullets out back at base. Right now all he cared about was making sure that you stayed alive.

“We’re almost there darling, just keep holding on.” Price grabbed your hand, noticing how limp your hand was in his own.

They all sat around you, watching your chest rise and fall slowly, keeping an eye on the heart monitor they’d hooked you up to. The hospital felt too far away, how could they have not arrived yet? 

“Landing now, brace yourselves.” Nikolai knew he had to be gentle, or at least as gentle as he could be while landing a helicopter.

Your body jostled for a brief moment as they finally landed, the doors sliding open as Ghost and Soap started to yank off the IV’s and heart monitor. It wasn’t the safest thing to do considering the state you were in, but goddamnit they needed you to get inside. Ghost slipped out of the helicopter first, grabbing the end of the gurney closest to him. Soap helped slide the gurney out before grabbing the opposite end. They ran into the hospital, screaming for any doctor or nurse that was willing to listen. No one seemed scared or phased by the two, rushing over to take the gurney you were lying on.

Ghost knew his mask was wet, tears streaking down his cheeks as he watched the doors to the operating room swing closed. Soap was no better, chest shuddering as he tried, and failed, to keep his composure. Gaz and Price made their way in slowly, they’d known where you were, and now it was a waiting game.

1 Hour

2 Hours

3 Hours

4 Hours

5 Hours

6 Hours

7 Hours

8 Hours

That’s how long you’d been in surgery, eight fucking torturous hours while the team waited to see if you would even make it out alive. The surgeon had walked out slowly, surgical gown covered in your blood. Soap’s heart sunk, they’d been too late, you were gone.

“We were able to stop the bleeding and get them stable. Unfortunately there’s going to be a long road of recovery ahead, they have five broken ribs on top of the gun wounds.” Price nearly burst into tears at that moment, thankful you’d survived, but horrified at how much worse things were.

“Thank you doctor, is there any chance we can see them?” He wouldn’t push if they said no, your health was number one priority right now.

“Yes, but be advised they probably won’t be awake just yet.” She gave them the room number before heading off to strip off the reminder of what she’d just had to do.

Price and Gaz took off like rockets, eager to prove to themselves that you did in fact make it out of surgery. Soap was much slower to follow, Ghost staying rooted to where he was until Soap had made it to your room. Price was sitting at your bedside, both hands gently cupping one of your own. No one would ever mention the tears that were sliding down the captain's face, soaking into the beard on his cheeks. No one would say anything about how these normally stoic and strong men were brought to their knees knowing you were only clinging to life.

“Gave us quite a scare, darling, try not to do that again, that’s an order.” Price’s laugh was thick and wet, clearing his throat to try and help stop the tears.

“Not allowed to leave us just yet there sweetheart, not until you’re old and gray.” Gaz knew you could hear their jokes, even if they fell somewhat flat.

Soap couldn’t go into your room, couldn’t see you knowing that he still had a chance of truly losing you. You two were thick as thieves, pulling pranks on everyone at base, except for Price of course. He’d welcomed you to the team with open arms, saying he was happy there was someone new he could talk to. Price had told him, in no other terms, that you would still need to befriend all of them. You’d done so within a week, getting to know everyone and seeing how they worked best. It gave you an idea of how they would be in the field, who to stick with for which missions, and who worked better alone.

Ghost was someone that was a little harder to crack, you didn’t want to pry into someone who was clearly trying to stay hidden. Everyone had a past, it came with the territory, but knowing that he was working so hard gave you the push to not push. It took him nearly six months before he opened up to you, telling you everything. It had shocked you, not only because Ghost didn’t trust anyone whatsoever, but that he told you everything about his past. His traumas that had sunk so deep they were embedded into his very being. His soul had been tainted by the actions of other people, something he would never be able to clean.

The first time he’d taken off his mask in front of you was also the first night you’d kissed him. He’d let slip that his body wasn’t the only thing that barred scars, that he had to keep his face hidden to hide the horrors. You had whispered that scars made a person who they were, that with or without them, that person was still beautiful. It was the scar extending from just next to his nose, through his lips, down to his chin. 

In a way it was beautiful, this man who had killed to keep himself alive had a constant reminder of what happened to him. He’d never let it win, never let the horrors of his past be what tore him apart until he succumbed to death. You cupped his cheeks gently, lips pressing softly against his. You could barely feel the scar beneath your own lips, hands sliding so they were gently cradling the back of his neck. Ghost had also told you his real name that night, Simon Riley. You giggled and told him both his callsign, and his real name suited him. Though you had been a little shocked to find out that he had been a blonde.

“I show you my face for the first time, and your biggest gripe is my hair?” It was a soft blonde, a ting of yellow running through the tips.

“I honestly thought you’d be a brunette, pretty brown eyes and all.” You oh so gently gripped the base of his hair, straddling his thighs carefully.

“Ma thought so too, unfortunately my daddy was a blonde.” Ah, of course, men tended to take after their dads.

“Well, I still think you’re very attractive, blonde hair and all.” You pressed another kiss to his lips, sighing into it as Simon’s hands squeezed your thighs.

“She’s gonna be alright, I swear on it.” Soap wasn’t going to lose his best friend, he’d sell his own soul to the devil to fight it if need be.

Ghost couldn’t bear to look at you, to see how lifeless you looked after everything you’d been put through. He turned and stormed off, boots echoing in the nearly empty halls. Anyone who knew him would know he could walk in even the loudest shoes silently. Even with you being so close to death Ghost was still being considerate of those around him. You would joke about how often he scared you, how someone of his size and stature shouldn’t be silent. It was a habit he’d picked up after promising not to scare you anymore

Gaz had thanked you immensely for it, saying how he’d nearly pissed himself on a few occasions because Ghost had slipped into the room unnoticed. You’d played a few pranks with him, mainly scaring Soap and Gaz, or even new recruits that got too cocky. Even if he hadn’t been their superior the man was still intimidating. He never did it to you again though, ignoring your chances to try and ask why he’d stopped. It wasn’t because you’d asked nicely, or that Soap had told him one day that it kind of bothered you. No. It was simply because he truly felt comfortable around you. It had been so long that he didn’t feel as if he had to have the impenetrable walls up, ready to let you in.

He was going to tell you he’d loved you, wanted to wait until you were safe back at the base, but then he’d be the exact fucking reason you were here. Ghost was a lot of things, but an idiot was not one of them. He could spot an enemy without so much as glancing at them at times, so how had this one slipped by? He would’ve heard their shoes stepping on the broken glass that was scattered around. Or had this person already been in the room, hoping you had been one of them instead?

The had chilled slightly as he stepped outside, reaching into his pocket for the pack of cigarettes he’d brought with him. You had jokingly teased him about how they would kill him before any enemy could. And well, he’d actually laughed at that, because he kind of hoped the cigarettes would kill him first, then he wouldn’t have to let you down. He would be by your side when he passed, but life had ulterior motives.

He hadn’t even realized the first stick was gone until he was halfway through smoking the second one. It was a horrible habit he couldn’t break, you didn’t mind that he smoked, but it was the chain smoking that seemed to get to you. It only happened when he was extremely overwhelmed, or was self destructing. Ghost didn’t want to let you down when it happened, but it was the only thing that ever seemed to truly calm him down. He’d wanted it to be you, to have you be the salve his soul desperately needed. Nearly half the pack was gone before he finally stopped, stubbing out the final cigarette in the small dish beside him. He wasn’t sure if that’s what it was meant for, but he wasn’t about to litter.

“She’s awake, asking for ya lt.” Soap was wringing his hands together, creased leather squeaking in the quiet night.

“Go ahead, I’ll be up later.” Ghost couldn’t see you yet, not when his mind was thinking of a million different ways he could still lose you.

“I’ll save you a chair.” Soap patted his shoulder gently, he knew the older man was too tense, but there wasn’t anything he could do.

The only thing they could hope for was that you would make it through these next few days with no issues. Gaz had told them right away he’d stitched you up, not wanting to waste any seconds until you were in safe hands. They told him you were lucky, that if he had waited even a moment too long you wouldn’t have survived. It was a reminder how fragile life truly was, that you could be gone at any second. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone that not seeing Ghost hurt more than you expected.

“Thank you, for everything.” You squeezed Gaz’s hand, smiling at the way his eyes teared up.

“Just wanted to keep my favorite sergeant alive and well.” Gaz patted the back of your hand, laying it down gently in your lap.

“We all know that’s Soap.” Your grin widened as Gaz scoffed, you couldn’t laugh lest you suffer in more pain.

Price couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped through his lips, he would laugh for you since you couldn’t do much besides lay in your bed. The three of you were unaware of Soap and Ghost standing outside the door, watching you. Soap could feel his heart quicken, seeing your eyes truly open and shining with a light he was afraid would slip away. Ghost’s hands were shaking, he wanted to kiss you like it was the last thing he’d do. Price was trying to keep you smiling, to keep the worry from settling in.

Ghost pushed every rational thought from his mind as he pushed the door open, standing at the foot of your bed before he could stop himself. You looked over at him, eyes wide as if you had forgotten he was on the mission with you as well.

“I love you. I absolutely fucking love you Y/N, and watching you nearly die today reminded me that I could’ve lost you before I got the chance to tell you.” Ghost’s chest was rising and falling harshly. You opened your mouth to speak before he held a hand up, effectively cutting you off.

“I’d never gotten as close to someone the way I did with you, you brought out a side of me I haven’t seen since..since before everything.” Ghost swallowed harshly, reaching up to pull off his mask.

You could see the way his cheeks were streaked with tears, the eyeblack he wore underneath smudged and missing in spots. This was someone who hadn’t even told his captain about his past for over two years, hiding away the darkness that sat within him. Here you were, an angel sent from heaven to watch over him. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t protect you today, I will never forgive myself for letting you get hurt.” He dropped the mask onto the bed, hands wrapping around your ankles.

The room fell silent, the only sound being the heart monitor you had been hooked up to. Your heart hadn’t spiked at all, your breathing calm.

“I love you too Simon.” You wiggled your toes beneath the blanket, the tips of your toes pressing into his forearms.

The other three men would deny that they teared up at Ghost’s declaration of love, that they had all watched how much Ghost truly loved you. How he had slowly, oh so slowly, slipped out of his shell to show you who he was. He smiled down at you, the right side of his lip drooping ever so slightly due to his scar.

“‘M gonna go to bed now.” You carefully pulled the blanket higher up onto your chest, snuggling with the soft material.

Ghost let go of your ankles slowly, watching the way you slipped into slumber so effortlessly. Though he was positive it was also the pain meds being pumped into your body, easing away the burning ache that was surely running through you. Price led Gaz and Soap out of the room, telling the two men he’d get rooms close by so they could keep an eye on you. Ghost wouldn’t move, no matter what, not until you were allowed to leave with him.

_________

His dreams were plagued by your death, each one becoming more vivid than the last, your blood staining his skin. He could taste copper, the salty rusted tang that blood always seemed to have. Times where he was the one pulling the trigger, mistaking you for an enemy as he took your life. He couldn’t seem to wake up, no matter how loud he screamed for his unconscious mind to wake up. It wasn’t until your fingers slowly began to run through his hair that he awoke, chest shuddering and cracking as he broke down once more. His chest heaved with wracking painful sobs. How could you still want to be with him? How could you possibly love him after what he’d done to you?

“You know, I always thought you had a softer side to you, something that no one got to see because you kept it hidden away from the world. And I was right.” You curled your hand slightly, running your nails across his scalp.

“Better than you imagined?” It was how Ghost coped, with dry humor.

“It is, thank you for letting me see it.” You continued gently scratching his scalp, feeling the way he slowly relaxed.

You knew that Ghost kept himself closed off for a reason, it wasn’t your typical “I got hurt by an ex and now I’m afraid”. No, this was something that wouldn’t be brushed off with a few kind words and a long hug. He would never be able to live his life without a reminder of what happened to him. And instead of turning him away when he’d practically begged you to, you smiled at him, and pulled him close to you. It was that day that you knew you were in love with him, but it wasn’t the time to voice those thoughts.

“Do you ever think about what happens after we die? If there truly is a heaven or a hell? Or if we reincarnate into new people?” You’d never given it much thought growing up, but this right here? This was a reminder that you were only human, and that life could be gone in the blink of an eye.

“Sometimes, stopped believin’ in all ‘at when I was a kid.” Ghost wouldn’t admit it had been when he was barely five years old.

No one wanted to be with someone that struggled to look at themselves in a mirror, to be reminded of the man that had beaten him so badly as a child. He was angry he’d grown to look like his father, save for his eyes, those belonged to his mother. The only thing he ever had left of her were his eyes. 

“I hope they have your eye color.” You slid your fingers down, grazing the edge of his jaw.

He sat up slowly, brow furrowed as he stared at you in the bed, did he hear you correctly or was he finally losing it?

“Excuse me?” Ghost’s jaw dropped open, your face was clear, so you were actually serious.

“I hope that our kids have your eyes, they’re this gorgeous shade of brown, like trees during fall in Massachusetts.” You’d spent quite a long time there, reveling in the colors when fall came around each year.

Ghost didn’t think before surging forward, pressing his lips roughly against your own, hands sliding back and gripping onto the roots of your hair. You grabbed onto his forearms, putting every ounce of strength you had into the kiss. Simon was the only man you’d willingly spend the rest of your life with, no matter how long or short that time might be.