#besides I’ve already applied to like five different places and have heard nothing

[thatskindarough]

Celebrating the last day of the full time job before I get to go back to only 1-2 days because of school. GET ME OUTTA HERE

[lavishedinjimin]

all the good girls go to hell

— synopsis: The Angels made a deal with Jeon Jungkook, the son of Lucifer, to help them bring Y/n back to her good, prim and proper self. Even though Jungkook grants the atrocious plan, he leaves a lesson that no one should give their trust to a wicked devil like him.

↳ pairing: jungkook x f. reader

↳ genre: smut, very slight angst if you squint hard enough

↳ rating: m/18+

↳ word count: 10k

↳ warnings: religious themes, heaven and hell, angels, devils (this fic is not a correct representation of these figures and is purely fictional), alcohol intake, cursing, hard dom jk, daddy! jk, fingering, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, squirting, unprotected sex, breathplay, spanking, face fucking, filthy dirty talk, rough sex, jungkook and his demon cock ehe

a/n: title is inspired by billie eilish’s song all the good girls go to hell. her title inspired me to write this fic! please ignore if you find any errors <3

“You’re not good enough.” 

“You look so pathetic, really.”

“Can you at least try to look hot?” 

“This is why no one likes you.” 

These words will forever haunt you until the day you die. 

It wasn’t your fault that you were raised very strictly, your overly-protective parents treating you like some kind of rare treasure that no one, no man, can touch. The fact that your parents still had to drive you home from school even at an age like this always irritated you to the brim of your existence. So now you can’t even have the freedom, the life of a normal young girl can have. 

Being raised strictly with a heavy-handed family – not to mention religious, too – has taken a toll on your mental health. There’s always the feeling of pressure wherever you go and whatever you do. The fear of not succeeding and disappointing your mom and dad is the worst feeling, like the Devil punching your gut repeatedly, as many times as he likes. 

Plus, some students at your school know you for your lack of “personality”, the boring one, the killjoy. You can’t even refute because it was all true. You never experienced fun, parties, how to have interesting conversations, how to interact with a large crowd, all because of your parents being so uptight in you. 

“Y/n!” The high-pitched voice of your mother calls from downstairs, and you were quick to scurry outside your room and find where she was sitting on the couch. “Yes, mom?” You say. 

She was dressed in a royal-blue dress that goes up to her knees, her hair fixed perfectly and the hairspray is clearly doing a great job of keeping her updo in place. She grabs her purse while your dad walks into view, dressed up in a neat suit. “We’re leaving for our business trip, Y/n. Didn’t I tell you that?” 

“Ah.” You sort of forgot about that. 

Quickly nodding your head, you force a fake smile that you know all too well, “Yes.” 

She gives you a weird glance before she fixes her makeup in a mirror, and your dad decides to continue for her. “We’ve hired a nanny to look after you, so that you won’t go out and about going behind our backs—”

“But dad! I really don’t need someone to babysit me,” You scoff. You weren’t a child anymore, what are they thinking! “I’m an adult. I can handle myself. Don’t you trust me?�� 

Trust. Something they don’t have with you, whether they admit it or not. 

Your dad just sighs deeply and starts to walk closer to you. He places a hand on your shoulder as he looks straight into your eyes, giving you an authoritarian look. “Y/n, just do as you’re told and be a good daughter.” 

“I’ve always been one,” you scorn. 

“A good daughter doesn’t talk back.” Your mother retorts. 

This is why you can never argue with them. They never let you speak your own opinion or have your own voice. 

Your parents left exactly at 5 PM as they went on their flight to Madrid, leaving the house all to yourself only for tonight.

It was the next day, and you were sitting on the dining table, eating your cereal peacefully as you watched Netflix on your phone – until the doorbell rings. 

You stand up and quickly make your way to the front door, pouting when you already know that it is the person that was supposed to look after you. 

This is ridiculous. 

“Hello!” A bright, short middle aged woman appears standing on the doorway, her bright energy startling you. “Y/n! I’m May, nice to meet you!” She lifts her hand in front for a handshake, and you chuckle nervously, accepting it. “I’m here to look after you for ten days, hm?” 

“Uh, ah, yeah. C-Come in!” You tried to sound as positive and energized as you could to match her own energy, but you couldn’t. You step aside to let her in, pulling her luggage with her and she immediately takes up the design of the house. She was nodding her head, her arms crossed together while you accompanied her little journeys throughout the whole ground floor. You found her weird. 

“Uh, come follow me, my dad says you’ll be staying here at the guest room —” 

“Wonderful! I thought I was sleeping on the couch!” She claps her hands, excited that she has her own room. 

You look at her with big, shocked eyes, yet you can’t say anything. 

“O-Okay…” you mumbled, “Here,” you helped her open the door and she immediately set her things up. “May?” 

“Yes, my dear?” She stops unpacking her bags to look up at you. “I’ll be at the kitchen, okay? If y-you wanna ask anything, I’m right over there.” 

“Ah, that’s okay, Y/n. Your mother told me everything I need to know. Your bedtime is at eight and no midnight snacks!” 

Your heart drops down to the floor as you immediately encountered a wave of emotions. Why did it matter?! Why did your mom had to apply all these stupid rules when she’s not even around? You thought at the start that you’ll have some kind of freedom when your parents aren’t here, thinking that your nanny might be easier, but perhaps not. 

“Okay.” You say simply. 

How else can you prove to people that you can be better? You're sick of everyone seeing you as the boring one, but your parents were the only thing that was keeping you from having fun. So you decide to be a little risky. 

Step one: Sneak out the house. 

Isn't that what people your age do? Usually they sneak out to party, to go hang out with their friends and have the time of their life. But you had none, no ‘best friend’, but a couple of lunch friends here and there. 

“I should try clubbing.” You mumble to yourself as you sit down on the plush comfort of your mattress. Until you hear your phone chimes, signalling a text. You grab your phone from the bedside table and frown when you see who the text was from. 

Mom: Remember to go to church later, Y/n. 

You didn't reply, instead, it got you thinking. 

Nothing will happen if you skip church, right? You've always attended Mass every Sunday with your parents, so there's absolutely nothing wrong with skipping at least once.

Besides, you need to plot your plans for tonight!

~

“What is this girl doing?” Armaros says in a deep whisper, his well-shaped eyebrows furrowing deeply while he watches Y/n on her phone, laying down on her bed as if church isn't just five minutes away from starting. 

Armaros rushes to the other side of the room to get a better view of her human who lays on her stomach, a white wisp of smoke trailing behind him. He shakes his head, crossing his arms together in front of his chest. “Y/n, Y/n,” he tuts, “What are you doing?!” 

He decides to step forward and reaches forward for his hand to caress the crown of your head. He chuckles when he sees your eyes expand in a quick second, your body abruptly sitting up straight from the tingling feeling in your neck. Your hairs stand up, a chill running down your spine. 

This was Armaros’ way of mustering his presence onto you. Your dad always taught that whenever you suddenly feel a chilling sensation out of nowhere, it means that your guardian angel is there with you and trying to send you a message. 

And you clearly know what he's trying to say. 

There was a slight feeling of guilt – uneasiness, even. But no. You've already decided that you weren't going to follow your old routine. 

Armaros’ jaw drops when you don't move from your position on the bed, only making yourself comfortable even further. ”Don’t you dare skip church...” he slowly whispers to himself. But he quickly shakes his head side to side, trying to be optimistic, “It's just one time. Just one time.” 

Time passes by faster than you think, you sink your teeth down on your bottom lip, chewing on it as you try to Google clubs near you. It was ridiculous, feeling so overwhelmed from all of the options the Internet is showing you. 

There was a generous list of bars and clubs with different ratings. It was a humane decision to choose the best one, right? So you went for a nightclub called ‘Soap Seoul’. Although, you feel your stomach churn when you scroll through the images attached to it; seeing all of the strange blue and red LED lights, big and tight crowds, and an HD picture of their bar. The bar was long and almost occupied the width of the whole club. You don't even know if you can stand such a place like that. 

But no. You can't back out now! You had to show yourself and to others that you can have some fun too. 

~ 

The club opens tonight at 8 pm, letting yourself have two hours to prepare. Rummaging through your garments of clothing, you try to find an appropriate outfit.

“I have nothing!” you whined, eyebrows furrowing in dismay. All you had were simple t-shirts and countless skinny jeans and leggings. Your dresses were almost knee-length and suitable for church – not for a nightclub! 

Armaros stands at a distance, shaking his head at you. 

Until, you heard a loud knock on the door, “Y/n!” May's voice shouts from the other side of the room, “Dinner's ready!” 

Oh no. 

Quickly opening the door, you stared at her with big, worried eyes. “May! I-uhh, I-I’m not gonna stay for dinner…” you mumbled, looking at the ground. 

“Oh, why is that?” she asks, a faint sad tone in her voice. You felt so sad and regretful that you didn't say anything to her because she already cooked your dinner. 

“I-I have plans for tonight,” you hold your hands behind your back, slightly getting embarrassed. 

“Are you going out with your friends?”

“Y-Yeah!” You lie. You've never lied before. 

“Ah, I understand. Have you told your mom?” 

She doesn't have to know. 

“Yup.” 

And there it was again, the chills in your neck appeared while your arm and leg hairs stood up. Armaros touches your scalp, desperate to seek your attention and bring you back to your old, good self. The angel didn't like that you were lying, for he was perpetually accustomed to your good deeds. It was making him anxious for what's about to come. 

But you ignored his message. May nods when you told her that she can have the food to herself. 

You feel a pang of guilt rush through your body when you shut the door behind you, your heartbeat suddenly racing faster. The nervousness in you made your head hurt. Is this the right thing to do? No. It wasn't. But you had to show people that you can be different. Will it be worth it? Of course. 

Thankfully, you spot a white dress that you've never worn before. It was a gift from your cousins that was supposed to be another addition to your collection of church dresses but it was too short for your liking. 

“Hm, maybe this will work…” you quietly mumble to yourself.

You tried the piece of clothing on, carefully examining your reflection in the full-length mirror. The hem of the skirt falls right above your mid-thigh, too high for your usual comfort but for the sake of dressing up for a nightclub — there was no problem. The dress was snug, hugging your body so that it accentuates your curves.

The dress was plain white and was relatively simple. You don't really know what people usually wear for nightclubs but you were certain that dresses were a part of the code. 

You looked for your black three-inch heel that you last wore during your highschool graduation, slipping it in carefully. Doing a little bit of makeup and applying a thin layer of lip gloss, you grabbed a purse and walked out of your room. 

“May, please don't wait for me, okay?” you say after walking past her. 

“W-Wait, I'm supposed to–”

“It's okay. I'll be okay.”

“She's not gonna be okay!” Armaros declares, kneeling on one knee before Archangel Michael – the protector and the spiritual warrior, as he mentions Y/n's recent mischiefs.

After you've been to the nightclub the first day, you've never stopped. You became addicted. 

Sometimes you don't even tell May that you're going out, you just sneak out of the window and let May worry about you. You've happened to know how to drink as you get wasted every single night, hanging around with people that you don't know, people that are a bad influence on your good side. These past few days had you acting up like you’ve never before. You longed for alcohol and the feeling of it numbing your nerves, and there’s not a day where you didn’t get drunk.

Armaros’ power wasn't enough to stop you. Every single day he's been drying his best to send signals, to make you feel certain ways and speak to your consciousness that what you are doing is by far dangerous and wrong. But you never listened. 

You've skipped church, stopped talking to God, ignoring your parents’ phone calls, not doing your homework just because you're busy either getting drunk or making out with someone at the club. It's like you have been addicted to misbehaving. 

But for you, you thought you’re doing the right thing. 

“Armaros, are you doubting your powers?” Archangel Michael replies, running his fingertips along the sharp blade of his sword. 

“N-No, but, nothing seems to work. She's been ignoring my calls for almost two weeks. I just want the best for her.” Armaros’ voice fades at the end of his sentence. He was speaking with such sincerity because he really cares for Y/n. He truly loves her. “Why is she doing this?” He asks for help.

“Because, my dear, she's trying to prove something she's not for other people.”

“What?” 

Archangel Michael laughs quietly, staring at him endearingly. He points his sword at him, “She obviously tries to be immoral to fit in. She's rarely praying to God like she used to, rarely respecting the people around her. Ever since humans bullied Y/n for being herself – she starts to change. But the question is…”

He walks around Armaros, his eyes never leaving his. “Is this making her happy?” 

Armaros lowers his head and shakes his head. “I don’t know.” 

The Archangel grins and returns his sword back on the scabbard attached to his belt. 

“If I can't warn her to stop, then who else can?” The angel asks. 

Michael lifts an eyebrow up, crossing his arms together as he stands right in front of him. His mouth draws into a slow smirk, a hint of playfulness in his eyes as if a lightbulb appeared on top of his head. 

“You wanna have some fun, Armaros?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Stand up, stand up.” Armaros quickly obeys his superior’s command. The Archangel places a hand on his right shoulder, preparing to speak. 

“I have an idea. We call Jeon Jungkook up and–” 

“No! Absolutely not! I will not allow Y/n to come face to face with the son of Lucifer!” Armaros bellows, instinctively pushes Michael's hand away from him. 

“Armaros! It's just an idea!” Michael chuckles, spreading his arms to the side as he shakes his head. “And besides, I have to ask permission from our Highness anyway.” 

“And what will he do? Taunt her? Provoke Y/n to be more sinful?” Y/n's guardian angel asks, referring to Jungkook. “We both know how manipulative and cunning he can be!”

“No, no. We'll make a deal with him, of course! No devil will do anything without receiving something in return.” 

“This idea of yours, not to be rude, but is really out of this world.”

Archangel Michael snorts from the out of the blue pun. 

“Do not be afraid. If our Lord agrees to our plan, I'll be watching. I always will. Give me your trust, Armaros.”

Armaros sighs deeply, yet smiles up at him right after. “Okay, I trust you.” 

“May, stop it,” you mutter angrily, pulling your arm away from her hold. May tries to block your way from going outside the house but you abruptly push her to the side. 

“Y/n! Your mom told you that–” 

“Told me what?! That I’m being independent? Unruly? That I should just stay home? I don’t give a fuck anymore, May. I’d rather hang out with friends than stay here and do nothing!” You bark at her. She was smaller than you and you were definitely giving off that intimidating vibes that you wanted to show. She isn’t the one wearing the pants in this house. You are. 

“Y/n, I will not tolerate this behavior!” May snaps, eyes glaring at you with her hands balled up into fists on her sides. 

Rolling your eyes, you let out a sour chuckle, “You sound like my mom.” 

May sighs deeply, the tiredness in her voice evident, “I’m just trying to keep you safe, Y/n. Just listen to me.” 

“I’m an adult. I can keep myself safe. Now, let me go and don’t wait for me.” 

“Y/n!” 

“Bye May! Have a nice sleep!” 

“Y/n! Where the fuck are you?!” Emilia, one of the new friends you've met no longer than three days ago shouts through the phone as loud, blazing music muffled her voice. “Sophia and I are waiting for you! Get your ass over here!”

“I'm almost there, save me a drink already!” you giggle, looking out from the taxi’s window. 

Sophia snatches the phone out of Emilia’s hand to speak to you, “Y/n, you still remember the bet we made, right?” 

“Of course! It's not a huge deal, c'mon now.” You roll your eyes, faking a laugh. 

“We'll see!” Emilia giggles. 

The driver drops you in front of the nightclub and you throw him a couple of dollars. Stepping out of the car, your high heels clicking on the cement. Upon entering the place, you were immediately greeted with your friends. They were both wearing a tight dress – glittery red and silver – whilst you wore a black one that reached down to your middle thigh. You bought the dress only a day ago, special thanks to your Amazon Prime account . 

“Hey! Here, drink this,” Sophia hands you a single malt whiskey and you swiftly drown it down your throat without any problem. You reminisce back to your first day where you can’t even take a sip of beer without gagging. Now look where you are. 

“Ahh fuck, that tastes good,” you mumble through gritted teeth. 

“Why are you late tonight, Y/n?” Emilia asks as she leads you to the bar to order more alcohol. Her high pitched voice mixing with the loud music,”You know it's always 9 PM. Sharp.” 

You breathe out heavily as you watch Sophia pour three shots of straight vodka into a shot glass. She distributes the beverage to the two of you. 

“Well, uh–” 

“What?” Emilia snaps.

“I couldn't find a goddamn cab, that's why!” you hide your falseness with laughter, hoping they won't sense your lie. 

“Alright anyway, let’s go get wasted and you, Y/n – will be our first player.” Emilia smirks as she crosses her arms together. She analyzes your body, eyeing you up and down. You didn’t like it, and you felt worried. 

Your eyebrows furrow, confused and slightly offended, “What, why me?” You take a sip of your newly-ordered beer, trying to get comfortable on the plush-covered stool. 

“Because,” Sophia answers for her, “we need to know your… capacities.” 

You snort, “Capacities of what? My capacity of having to get into a m-man’s bed? Pffft… easy!” 

Sophia’s forehead furrows, glancing at Emilia with a knowing look before focusing her attention back to you. “Sure. Anyway, let’s have fun first and then…” she leans closer to you, her face inches away from yours. You feel your face redden in embarrassment, “And then you can choose your man.” 

It wasn’t that bad. It isn’t bad dancing around the dance floor, beer in hand, as you danced all your worries away. Emilia and Sophia were out there – somewhere, but you didn’t care about them at this moment. You let your body go with the beat of the loud EDM music, holding your hands up in the air as you whipped your head left to right. You had a huge smile on your face, the alcohol kicking in like it was meant for your body to consume. 

Sweaty bodies were bumping each other from left and right, and you for sure stepped on someone’s toe with your pumps. Nevertheless, you didn’t care. You were having your fun. 

It was until the song changed from upbeat to a more sensual, heart-pumping song from the loud bass. As if there was a switch inside you, you turned into a sultry mess. 

Wasted. You were wasted like hell. 

Your eyes turn into little slits as you look around the dance floor to try and find someone to play with. Taking a huge sip of your drink, your throat burns yet you tried to ignore it. 

“Ah-hah!” you giggle, walking – or should we say, stumbling – towards a guy with black hair parted in the middle, nicely dressed in a black button up tucked in some skinny jeans. The man locks eyes with you, licking his plump lips as his eyes rake your body. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he smirks, making you blush in red as he holds your waist and tugs you closer to him. The song in the background was helping you a lot to get into that seductive, sexy mood that you planned to have. 

“Hey,” you smile up at him, “I’m Y/n.” 

“What a pretty name for a pretty lady.” He starts swaying your body to the beat, going along with you. “I’m Seokjin. Nice to meet you.” 

Seokjin tugs your body closer until he holds the back of your head with one hand, making you look deep into his dark eyes. “Y-You’re a new face,” you slur, “You don’t belong here.” 

Unexpectedly, your eyes grow big when Seokjin throws his head back as he laughs almost hysterically. “What?” you question. 

The man slightly leans down until his face draws near to yours, and you can immediately smell the alcohol in his breath. You didn’t judge though, you probably had beer-breath too. 

“Baby girl…” Seokjin suddenly speaks deeply, making your heart jump from the sudden change in his voice. There was a sultry look in his eyes that made it hard for you to keep eye contact. “Baby it’s you who doesn’t seem to belong. You don’t know who I am.” 

“Well y-you don’t know me e-either!” You try to retaliate, although it was messed up with your embarrassing stuttering.  

“You really wanna know?” he whispers, his lips right against your lips, almost touching yours. You couldn’t breathe properly, wanting to pull away but his intoxicating scent was forcing you to him. 

You nod your head, not trusting your voice. 

“I own this place, baby.” 

You almost tossed your cup right across the room from his sudden confession, totally not expecting such a young-looking man to own such a place like this. Your eyes expand, body staying still. 

’Wait! Be sexy… be sexy…’ you thought to yourself after an awkward five seconds of silence. 

You decide to chuckle, biting your bottom lip slowly as you draw yourself nearer to him. He lifts a brow up in surprise, wrapping his arms around your hips and he closes the distance between the two of you. 

“Really? Well then,” you mutter, “I want you to own me too.” 

“Oh, finally. Someone straightforward.” 

“Well I – oh!” Seokjin takes you by surprise when he quickly tugs your arm and leads you to the second floor of the club. You haven’t been in this area before, looking so luxurious and well decorated. Although what shocks you is the series of doors that passes through a long, wide hallway. 

“Seok...Seokjin,” you whisper, but he looks at you with a smirk, a playful glint in his eyes. 

“C’mon baby,” he opens a door and walks you inside, locking it behind him. “Let’s have a little fun.” 

Let’s have a little fun. 

Yeah. I should. 

This is fun, right? 

Before you can even process things, Seokjin shoves your body to a wall as his hands start to wander down your sides. With flushed cheeks, you look at him like you’ve just seen a ghost but he clearly doesn’t mind, grinding his hips into yours. 

“Mmm, what a cute babe I have in front of me,” he groans, leaning forward to pepper wet, gentle kisses all over your neck and down to your shoulders. 

Something feels off. 

“Y/n, right?” he asks, his forehead furrows and you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart starts to rapidly pump inside your chest, feeling as if it’ll burst at any minute. An uncomfortable feeling starts to overwhelm your system, sensing your palms getting sweaty. You can’t look at his eyes, looking anywhere but him. 

“Uh, o-okay,” you straighten your back as you try your best to look confident. 

This is the perfect opportunity to tell your friends. Having sex with someone like him will absolutely impress Emilia and Sophia. 

Seokjin chuckles, shrugging, “Alright then.” And without any warning, he throws you on the bed and he quickly hovers above your body. 

“Mmph–!” he immediately presses his lips into yours before you can even react to everything that had just happened. He caresses your cheeks with both hands, his lips moving softly with yours. You try your best to keep up with him and his pace, but you can’t. There was something stopping you from giving him your all. Seokjin grunts nevertheless, humping you. 

Seokjin’s right hand snakes down to grab the hem of your dress as he teasingly pulls the fabric up, then lets it snap back down. There was a weird feeling inside your stomach, and it did not feel good at all. 

His hand slowly starts creeping up your leg, and that’s where you couldn’t hold it back. 

“Mmm, n-no,” you mewl, pushing him away from you. Seokjin stares down at you with a frown, head tilted to the side. 

“Y/n?” 

Rapid heart rate, the back of your neck sweating, and chills all over your body occur all at the same time. You were panicking. 

“I-I…” immediately you stand up from the bed, hiking your stupid short dress down as much as you can. “S-Sorry,” furiously shaking your head from side to side, you stumble your way to the door. 

“Y/n, wait!” Seokjin yells, confused yet he felt sorry at the same time. “Let’s talk about it!” 

“No,” you whisper. You can’t do this anymore. There was no energy left in your body to talk, to process what just happened, to stand in this fucking club. Home. All you were thinking about was going home. 

You twist the doorknob open, trying to catch your breath as much as you can but you feel like you were going to pass out any minute. Making your way down the stairs, you run as fast as you can towards the exit of the nightclub yet a person catches your arm. 

“Y/n!” Your eyes widen when Emilia and Sophia stop you, observing your state. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“No…” you breathe tirelessly, “c-can’t do it…” 

“You failed?” Emilia snaps as she leans her body on one hip, resting her hands there. She looks at you with disgust, “But we saw the guy that you’re with! He was hot!” 

Sophia snorts, smirking as she stares at you sourly, “Proves our point. You’re nothing, Y/n. You had such an easy job, the guy’s already all over you and you just had to throw him? Where is he, let me get with him myself.” Sophia struts away, heels clicking as she flips her long hair over her shoulder, leaving you with Emilia. 

“What can I say, Y/n,” she smiles menacingly, the corners of her eyes crinkling, “You can never be like us.” 

Your whole body felt heavy, heavy like you were carrying a boulder behind your back. This isn’t what you had planned at all, everything was going so well until this! Your eyes started welling up with tears, blurring your sight. You had to go. 

Without saying a word, you quickly run away to the exit, ignoring Emilia’s insensitive laugh. 

What went wrong? Why did you feel that way? Negative thoughts were clouding your mind as you cried and cried to your poor, soaked pillow. 

Maybe you are just not enough. Perhaps you’re not meant to be like this. 

It was fun the first time around, and you were actually enjoying yourself. But the days passed and you sadly weren't doing this for your own pleasure anymore, but for the validation of other people. 

You should’ve stopped Seokjin from touching you when it clearly made you uncomfortable. There was a line and he crossed it, but you erased that line so you can finally say that you’ve slept with someone. But you guessed it wasn’t that easy. 

Grabbing your phone, you ignored all of the rude messages Emilia has sent you, blocking her and Sophia’s number. You turned off your phone, throwing it somewhere on the ground without care before you switched off your lamp. There was never a time that you’ve cried yourself to sleep, but tonight was your first. 

“And what do I get in return for this deal?” Jeon Jungkook purrs with a low, dark tone, crossing his legs together as he sits on his father’s fire-blazing throne. Even though he has his own throne for himself, thrones on fire were way cooler. He scans the frightened angel from head to toe through the strands that fell in front of his eyes. 

“The A-Archangel says you will obtain a soul. A soul that is longing for hell.” Armaros stutters as he tries to keep eye contact with the devil’s hard glare. 

Jungkook chuckles, hanging his head low. “You mean to tell me…” he starts to stand up and walks towards the angel. Armaros tries his best to keep his guard up and stand as tall as possible. 

Jungkook circles around him, arms crossed while his right hand plays with his bottom lip, “That I should convince this little girl to prevent doing bad, bad things to stop her from going to hell?” He laughs hysterically. “That’s quite… an unnatural job for a devil, isn’t it? It’s completely the opposite of what i’m supposed to do. Tell Michael that his plan is utter bullshit.”

Armaros takes a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a brief second before replying. “Firstly, Y/n is not a little girl. And second, this job is easy. You have the skill to persuade humans to sin – what’s hard with doing the opposite? Besides, you’ll obtain a soul either way.” 

His words made Jungkook ponder and deliberate with himself. He stops in front of Armaros and shows him his signature imposing smile. “I can have my way with the girl, right?” He bites his lip, “Anyway I want?” 

This made Armaros’ eyes go wide, mouth opening but no words seem to come out properly, “I-I… w-well, um… yes? Yes? P-Perhaps? Just don’t do anything bad to her.” 

Jungkook scoffs, running his long tongue over his teeth as he smirks, “Define bad, Mr. Angel.” 

“You know… hurt her.” He gulps.

The devil squints his eyes, absolutely loving Armaros’ reactions. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not gonna kill her, if that’s what you mean.” 

“I’m done with this conversation.” Armaros quickly chirps as he unfolds his large, white wings. “Remember what your main goal is, Jungkook. I’m counting on you.” 

Jungkook stops him before he flies back up. “Armaros…” he says, dragging his name long in his tongue. Armaros looks at him, eyes impatient, arms crossed together. 

“You know I’m a devil, right?” 

The angel chuckles, scoffing, “Oh, I know that alright.” He scorns, eyeing Jungkook up and down. Although the devil in front of him looks intimidating and his eyes are jet black, Armaros keeps his calm. “I’m only following orders. I didn’t agree with The Archangel in the first place.” 

“Do you know what devils do to… humans?” 

Armaros nods fully. 

“And what I might do to… that precious little girl?” Jungkook growls deeply, walking closer to him. He tilts his head down, looking at him through his lashes, “There’s a huge chance that I might not control myself when I see her.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Suddenly, black smoke appears from Jungkook’s right hand, summoning something beside him. The smoke appears to subside and at once, Y/n’s appearance can be seen through the thin air. Jungkook rests his hips on one side, twirling his hand so that her image spins around. 

“This is Y/n, right?” Jungkook studies your face, watching you read a book inside your room. “I’ve never seen someone so beautiful before.” 

“Jeon Jungkook!” Armaros bellows, his tone loud yet sprinkled with fear. 

“I’m just saying, Angel. You can’t stop me from trying to do devilish things to her.” Jungkook smirks, prodding his tongue on the inside of his cheek. “You might have to reconsider this deal of yours if you don’t want me to have my way with that pretty little girl,” He taunts, already warning Armaros.

“Jungkook,” Armaros’ nerves seem to heat up, slowly getting irritated although he tries to calm himself. He looks down, shaking his head as he pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “There’s no point in doing that. You think she wants to have an affair with someone like you?” 

The devil laughs loudly as he twirls his hand until your image disappears. This conversation further proves Jungkook’s argument that angels are actually dumber than they realize. 

“If you want me to help you, I will have my way with her. My job, my rules. Understand?”

Armaros feels defeated, but he can’t say anything but nod and agree to him. He can’t fight him anyway. Jungkook dismisses him, and with that, the angel ascends back up to earth. 

Jungkook can’t wait to have his fun. 

~

Prancing around, making friends, getting to know each other – Jungkook doesn’t want to do that. Instead, he’s very straightforward, saying words that he probably shouldn’t, he likes to say what he thinks no matter how bad it’ll probably hurt. 

That’s what he plans to do with you. 

If he gets his point clear, make you frightened, scare the shit out of you, then the job would be complete. 

Easy! 

You were currently on your laptop, scrolling through your pinterest tabs until you hear loud and frantic knocks on your door. “Y/n!” May shrieks, her voice quivering. “Someone’s at the door!” 

Oh no, you thought. 

Immediately hopping out of bed, you went out to see who it was with May following behind you. You peak out through the windows and suddenly, you inhale sharply from the man that you see. 

He was unfamiliar. Thankfully, it wasn’t Seokjin or Sophia nor Emilia, but rather tall, might you say handsome looking man waiting outside your doorstep. He was dressed in all black, his hair covering his eyes. 

“Do you know him?” May asks quietly. You shake your head slowly, “N-No.” 

“Y/n… I think you should just leave him.” 

“May, I can handle it. You can go now.” You say softly to her. 

“Are you sure—”

“Yes.” You spat a little harshly, blazing your eyes at her. May nods, sighing as she walks away to her room. 

Gathering the courage to open the door, you took a deep inhale and exhale, calming your nerves. 

Once you open the door, your eyes immediately fly to his dark ones. Your whole body suddenly shivers, the air around the place somewhat getting cold as if it was winter. 

You can't take your eyes off of the man. You have never met him before but it felt like you've known him for too long. There was a strange aura surrounding the two of you that you can't explain. 

“Hello.” He speaks first, giving you a sly smile. 

His voice. You've never heard such a dark and menacing timbre before. 

“Hi,” you gulp, “Who are you?” 

“May I come in?” Jungkook snaps, ignoring your question. He doesn't want to waste any time, that's for sure. 

You furrow your brows as you shake your head, “Answer my question first.” You blurt, blocking the entrance by placing your hands on either side of the doorway. 

“Hm,” Jungkook slowly shows you a deadly smirk, eyeing your body up and down. “You really wanna know?” 

What kind of a question is that? 

You quickly got annoyed, looking at him with a scorn. “Obviously!”

Feisty, Jungkook thought. 

“I'm the devil.”

There was a long pause, silence filling the air. This man is too handsome to be this dumb. You laugh hysterically, bending over as you hold your aching stomach. “A-Are you… oh my god… please tell me you're fucking joking!” you say with creased eyes. 

Jungkook already expected this reaction, and he only rolls his eyes without you noticing. 

“Mhm. You don't believe me?” he slowly pronounces his words, voice deep and sinister. 

“Nah,” you shake your head, giggling. 

“Aren't you religious?” Jungkook pushes you to the side without hesitation and enters, your eyes expanding slowly as his body suddenly comes in contact with yours. “Don't you believe in your God? You believe in angels, right?” He backs your body up and shuts the door loudly behind him. 

You felt a series of chills erupt from your system, his gaze locked on yours. You wanted to look away from his intimidating gaze, but you can't, for some strange reason. “Huh, Y/n?”

You gasp. “Wait, h-how do you know my name!?” 

Jungkook smirks at you, tilting his head to the side as he ignores your question again. 

Your body seems to move by itself, like you can't control your own limbs. The air thickens around the two of you as you feel your body submit to the man in front of you. 

Sighing, with a shaky voice you answer. “I do. I do believe in them.”

Although what shocks you is the way his eyes suddenly turn a bright shade of red. From deep black to red, his irises glow. 

“What the fuck–” you quickly back away, body shivering in fear until your back hits a wall. You rub your eyes, trying to see if your mind was only playing tricks with you. 

Jungkook grins and chuckles darkly, clicking his tongue. “Then…” he draws, walking closer to your frightened figure, “Can this convince you enough?” 

“S-Stop… stop playing games with me!” you whimper, feeling your palms get sweaty. “Your eyes are red!” 

“Hmm, I wonder why,” Jungkook snarls, forehead creasing, “Maybe because I'm the fucking devil?” 

And in a flash, Jungkook’s appearance changes from a tall, handsome boy into a dark red figure. Black, bat-like wings sprout from his back, long horns appearing from his forehead, a spear-like tail behind him. His lips and the area around his eyes were tinted in black while his fingers grew longer, sharper. 

You almost fainted then and there. 

“Oh— p-please,” your eyes turn watery as tears start to fall down your cheek, lifting your hands up to your mouth in shock, “please d-don't kill me!” Shutting your eyes to avoid the frightening image in front of you, your knees drop down to the floor with a loud thud. “I'm sorry, please f-forgive me! Don't k-kill me! Please!” 

“Oh, what a cute pretty girl you are,” the devil grins, his voice more gravelly now. He looks down at your frail self, amused. “I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to teach you a lesson.” 

You start to sob as your body shakes, “No! Please d-don't…”  

“Do you believe me now?”

“Yes! Yes I do!” you quickly reply, voice cracking. “I’m sorry s-sir, don’t hurt me!” 

Jungkook, satisfied with your reaction, morphs back to his normal human look within a few seconds. “Look at me.”

Slowly, afraid to anger the devil in front of you, you obey his words. You sigh in relief when he finally looks normal again, but you can't look at him the same way. 

“Stand up.”

You do so with wobbly legs. You felt so weak with your energy quickly drained so quickly. Wiping your tear-stained cheeks, you try your best to keep your composure. 

“Anyway, I'm Jungkook,” he gives you an award-winning smile, “I'm sent here to supposedly warn you from doing bad things.” He cringes, shaking his head. “Which, honestly speaking, I think is atrocious.”

He scans your body, biting his lip right after. “A good looking girl like you should have her fun.” 

You try to regain your senses back. A devil — a real devil appeared right in front of you. You can't seem to shake the thought away while he’s there looking so handsome in his human form. 

With a shaky breath, you ask him, “J-Jungkook? I'm really sorry. I don't know what I'm doing.” 

He snorts. Brushing his black hair away from his face. “Wrong. You know what you're doing.” 

“W-What?” 

Something in the air changes when Jungkook snaps his fingers. A thick, black smoke appears, capsuling the both of you in. “What is this?!” you question, terror overtaking your face. You watch your surroundings getting blurry, blackness covering the area. 

“Oh nothing,” he gives you a lopsided grin, “just making sure that your little angels can't see us.” 

Jungkook's eyes shine and his pupils enlarge, smiling as you notice how his teeth grow sharper. There were veins popping out in his neck, grimacing at you in pure excitement.  

“We can't afford your poor, guardian angel to stop us now, can't we? I don't want him to see us…playing.” 

“Playing?!” You gasp, eyes expanding in shock.. 

“Yes, baby. Angels are so fucking dumb, aren't they? Asking a devil to do their own work? Isn't that pathetic.”

You were locked to him like a magnet as your body seems to fill with utter desire in such a quick time. 

Was he doing something to you?!

A series of pleasurable chills erupt from your body, mouth getting dry as you look up at Jungkook with big eyes. 

His hand suddenly touches your bare arm, making you silently mewl from his chilling touch. He smirks at your reaction, “How dumb of them to trust the son of Lucifer himself.”

“Y-You… you're…” your voice fades, trying to process his words. 

“Mhm. Aren't you excited to play with me?” 

Maybe he's doing tricks to your mind, controlling your body – or maybe you’re just fucked up. Either way, you want him. 

You lust for him. 

“Yes.”

Jungkook draws his lower lip between his teeth, his hands finding its way to your waist, holding you firmly until he unexpectedly pulls you to his body. He lifts a single eyebrow up, “Really?” 

Your heartbeat quickens. 

“I've… I’ve never been more sure.” Words seem to spill out of your mouth without your consent, as if it wasn’t you who’s speaking. But you don’t try to take your words back.  

Jungkook laughs and starts to lift you up without struggle, finding his way to your bedroom while the smoke follows the two of you. “Bad, bad girl you are.” He lowers you down on the mattress, sending you a seductive wink, “I'm so fucking proud.” 

He preps himself on his knees, capturing your thighs in between. His eyes run down your body, chills running down your spine from how hot he looks. His figure was so big and muscular, making you feel like he can destroy your frail self. 

“Look at this, you look so fucking delicious baby.” 

His hand suddenly flies down to your armpits, roughly handling you as he carries you up as he sits down on the bed, his back pressed against the headboard, as he places you in between his legs. 

You hold back a whimper as he pushes your body closer to him. Hearing him growl deeply made your cunt throb, feeling a strange wet feeling down there. 

“Demons can't help humans,” he mutters lowly, his lips right against the shell of your ear. “They want you to sin and sin and sin until the day you fucking die.” 

His hands play with your shirt until in a quick flash, he rips the cotton material in half, your body shivering as it has been exposed to the cold air. “Ohh,” you whimper, covering your body with your arms. 

“Nu-uh,” Jungkook grins behind you, “Don't do that, baby.” He leans down and starts pressing wet and sloppy kisses all over your shoulders, running his mouth up to your neck. “Don't try to hide away from me.”

He sucks on the soft skin of your neck, his big dick throbbing in his pants from the way you were constantly squirming. You were so sensitive, and it made him so horny. He hums, marking your skin in bright red and purple bruises. 

“Ahh, Jungkook,” you moan, throwing your head back until it rests right against his shoulder. 

His hands suddenly fly to your breasts, his long and slender fingers pinching and twisting your hardened nipples. You bite your bottom lip as you can't seem to open your eyes from the feeling. It was until Jungkook suddenly digs his nails into your nipples, pinching them roughly that made you jolt right up. 

“Oh, t-that hurts,” you cry, the stinging feeling of his sharp nails pinching your buds. Jungkook watches your face contort, digging his nails even harder. He feels your body twitch, hearing your gentle whines and mewls. 

“Ohhh you don't like it baby, does it hurt too much for your sensitive, precious body?” he mocks a concerned tone. “Hm?” 

He was playing games with you, that's for sure. You nod your head up and down, trying to push his hands away. “Mhm…” 

Thankfully, he does stop but he quickly cups your breasts with both hands. He feels your rock-hard nipples pushing against his rough palms, kneading your boobs until he finally lets go. 

“Take these off,” he instructs you to pull your shorts down, and you do so. With trembling hands, you swiftly tug them off of your legs. 

“Mmm, fuck,” he grunts behind you, his right hand lowering down from your stomach until it reaches the destination right against your clothed pussy. His fingers slowly trace down your slick, feeling how wet you are through your panties. 

He smirks cockily, “You're fucking drenched, baby. Are you this horny?” he rubs your clit in slow, circular motions with just the right amount of pressure with the tips of his two fingers, your legs shivering. “Want something to stuff that little hole of yours?” 

He pulls your underwear down to your thighs, and you instantly shake it off with your legs. Jungkook pushes your legs apart, forcing your knees up with your feet flat on the mattress. Your cunt flutters around air from the exposure. You whine when his left arm possessively wraps around your stomach, his biceps flexing when he holds you tightly. 

“Stay fucking still,” he growls, his warm hand cupping your bare cunt. He chuckles, prodding his tongue against his cheek as he plays with your folds. He uses two slender fingers to spread your labia apart and you can feel your glistening arousal drip from your hole down to your ass. 

Jungkook hums in satisfaction, spreading your lips wider, making you emit a moan. “Jungkook—”

“No. I want you to call me something…” he elongates the pause in his sentence to suddenly insert the tip of his middle finger in your pussy, causing you to jump. “Something else, baby.” 

“Ah-ahh, what?” your legs couldn't stop trembling as he pushes his finger deeper, your walls sucking it in deliciously. 

You can feel him smirk against the skin of your neck, he snickers, “Starts with the letter D.” 

Your eyes squint in confusion, tilting your head up to look at him. Jungkook, with his glowing red eyes, scans your face with a quirked eyebrow expectantly. 

“Devil?” 

Jungkook scoffs loudly and instantly pushes the rest of his finger in your cunt, immediately pumping in and out at a rapid pace. Your hands quickly hold onto his arm that was wrapped around you, mouth agape from the sudden thrusts. “Ohhh!” your body shakes, leaning your head against him. Electric waves of pleasure run through your body, being new to the sensation. 

He growls as he removes his finger out to slap your pussy harshly, hitting your sensitive clit. “Wrong.” 

“Oww…” you mewl, your hips bucking up from the sting. He does this again, and again, and again, making your eyes watery. He tightens his hold on you, stopping you from squirming too much. 

“Daddy.” He purrs. 

Your body instantly feel a series of shivers. 

“Call me daddy.” Jungkook bites your neck roughly while he inserts his digits back, this time using his middle and ring finger. You hiss in pleasure, eyes tempting to roll back when he brushes the sponge-like texture inside your pussy. 

“Shit, right there daddy,” you curse, rolling your hips against his hand for more. “Right there!” 

Jungkook feels his cock harden even more, precum dripping down his tip as it twitches against his clothes. The way you pronounce that certain word drove him crazy. Jungkook loves how your body easily crumbles beneath him as you allow him to have all the control. He pounds your pussy faster with his hand, putting his bicep to good use. 

You were about to cum, the feeling of a tightness inside your tummy, a ball about to burst at any second. You warn Jungkook, “Daddy, i-i think… I think I'm gonna c-cum,” you sob. 

“I know.” He says simply, fucking you harder. Suddenly, he pushes his index finger in, three digits stretching your walls out. You cry loudly, thrashing around him as high-pitched moans carelessly leave your mouth. “Shiiiiit, d-daddy!” 

“Need to stretch this little pussy out for my cock” he purrs, “cuz’ we don’t want that tiny hole of yours to split into two, right baby?” 

Your toes curl, nails digging into the skin of his arm as you fail to warn him that you're gonna cum any second now. Although he can feel the way your pussy was pulsing around his long fingers. He angled his hand until your clit was brushing against his palm, “Daddy! Ohh fuck, just l-like that!”

Until it all stops. 

All of the pleasure stops when Jungkook pulls his fingers out. 

“Fuuuuuuuck!” you yell, never been more frustrated before as he denies your orgasm. You were about to cum so hard. Your legs shake uncontrollably, scratching his arms as your body shudders. Your poor cunt pulsates rapidly from the sour loss. You were a whimpering, sobbing mess. 

Laughing dryly behind you was Jungkook, licking his fingers clean as he watches your dignity wash away right in front of his eyes. 

“Fuck you,” you scowl, pushing away his arms and turning to face him. “Fuck. You.” 

But he wasn't bothered at all, of course. He was the devil after all. He had no remorse.

Before you know it, Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat and swiftly pulls you close to his face. You gulp, terrified from the intimidating look in his eyes. 

Jungkook thinks that he can easily kill you then and there. If it were a different person, he wouldn't hesitate to snap their neck like a stick. Usually he would feel tempted to physically hurt a person in this kind of situation. But no. He likes you. He likes you too much to kill.

“Take my cock out.”

Even though you hate him for denying your orgasm so brutally like that, you nod your head. Jungkook removes his shirt as you scoot down. You were careful to unbutton his pants, heart rate going faster from the thought of seeing his cock right in front of your face. By the look of the large tent evident, he was gonna be huge. Jungkook watches you with heavy eyes, running his hand through your hair softly. 

You pull the garment down and your mouth visibly waters from the sight. The outline of his cock was evident from his briefs, long and thick and was certainly rock hard. You were so afraid to even touch it as you let your hands sit right on his thighs. 

“Haven't done this before?” he asks, rubbing your cheek with one hand. You shake your head, afraid to look at his glaring eyes. 

Jungkook chortles, quickly pulling his underwear down by himself.

His cock immediately springs out and rests on his abdomen. With wide, surprised eyes, you notice his red tip leaking so much precum, dripping down his abs. You involuntarily whine and wiggle your hips in need, your wetness dripping down your thigh. 

“Take it in your mouth.” He orders, voice strict and demanding. 

“But—” 

“Did I stutter?” 

“No daddy.” You whisper, looking away and finally gathering the courage to wrap your hands around his girth. You clench your thighs together when you feel him against your palm – warm and heavy, yet the skin was soft at the same time. When you stroke his shaft up and down watching how his precum pours down to your hands, providing you lubrication as it coats his cock. 

Jungkook throws his head back as he smiles down at you, feeling so good. He bucks his hips up repeatedly, meeting your timid strokes. 

His patience runs out and slaps your hand away, gripping his cock tightly. Suddenly, he slaps his dick on your cheek, making lewd and wet sounds. “Open your fuckin’ mouth.” 

Obeying his command, you wrap your lips around his leaking tip. You taste the saltiness of his seed on your tongue, trying your best to take more of him. His thick girth was making it hard for you as your jaw immediately feels sore. 

His hand flies to grip your hair, making you whine around his cock, causing vibrations. “Look at that pretty little mouth tryna’ take this cock,” he smirks, “Go deeper baby. Gag around my cock if you don't wanna be punished.” 

Your hips swivel in need from his words, pussy soaking like a river. You slack your jaw as you sink down on his cock, trying to ignore the harsh gags when his tip hits the back of your throat. Jungkook growls loudly above you, seeing that the corners of your mouth were dripping in saliva. 

He uses both of his hands to force you deeper. Your eyes start to water when you swallow just half of his big dick, already being too much for you. The harsh and wet gagging sounds were music to Jungkook's ear, loving to see you struggle. “Mhm, fuck yes,” he grunts, “Choke on that big dick.” 

He keeps you down there, feeling sinister as his devilish instincts get the best of him. He ignores your cries and pleads, only focusing on the feeling of the sweet vibrations whenever you moaned around him. Or whenever your throat closes around his shaft when you choked, it was all too good for him. 

You immediately tapped on his thighs furiously when you can't take it anymore, but what did he do? He starts fucking your mouth with sharp thrusts of his hips. You whimper, closing your eyes tight as your nails dig into the skin of his thighs. He grabs you by your head as he uses your poor mouth for pleasure. 

Trying to breathe through your nose, you ignore the burning sensation in your mouth yet it feels too good. “Ahhhh holy fucking shit,” he grunts, feeling your throat tighten, “Look at that – fuck. Bad little girl aren't you? Mhm? You're my bad, naughty girl.” Jungkook mocks, watching the stream of tears drip down your cheeks. 

Finally, he pulled out and there were thick strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. He groans loudly, his cock twitching as it lays back on his stomach. 

“Ohh, c'mere baby girl, come here.” Jungkook whispers and pulls your body close to him. You straddle his lap, feeling his cock beneath your folds that made you hiss. He wraps his strong arms around you, his face inches close to yours. You try not to be intimidated by his menacing eyes, but he notices this and clutches your throat with one hand, squeezing it again that made you inhale sharply. Jungkook sees your pout, your lips bruised from your numerous bites, and he chuckles. 

He tugs you until his lips are right upon your ear. “You wanna cum, baby?” 

Your body shivers from how deep and alluring his voice was, although you nod your head. “Please, daddy.” 

“Oh but do you deserve it? Do you even deserve a cock like mine?” 

You hate how frustrated he can make you. You punch your hands down on his chest, whining, “I-I do…” 

Jungkook quirks a brow up, immediately forcing your hands behind your back. He roughly grasps your wrists together with one hand, surely leaving a red bruise. He bites his lip, “You do?” He swiftly lands a spank on your right ass cheek, making you moan. “Then sink down on my cock.” 

With a puff of your breath, Jungkook helps you align his dick to your sopping entrance. You couldn’t breathe properly, anticipating what will happen as soon as you slowly sink yourself on his thick tip. 

“Ohhh daddy!” Your walls stretch out as you take his tip in, making you feel a harsh, stinging sensation as he rips your walls. If it wasn’t with his impressive girth, it probably wouldn’t hurt as much. Jungkook grunts, his cock throbbing from the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him. 

“Fuck yeah,” he watches your pussy take him further, your juices coating his shaft. He tightens his hold on your wrists, slightly bucking his hips up. Jungkook lands another hard, loud spank. 

“Daddy you're so b-big,” you moan, almost halfway down his dick but you can't take more of him anymore. Jungkook gets turned on from the sweet tone of your voice, the thought of tainting such a girl like you made him chuckle. 

Jungkook feeds himself from the idea of corrupting you, letting you know how it feels to truly rebel. Who the fuck cares about what your parents think? Humans are all going to die anyway, there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun. 

You start to bounce up and down slowly, your pussy rubbing against him, feeling the thick protruding veins upon your walls. You dig your nails onto your palm, eyes closed shut as you prop yourself up to your feet. 

“That's it, baby. Ride daddy's cock,” he insinuates, watching your face contort in pleasure. With your eyebrows knitted together, eyes shut and mouth wide open, Jungkook’s cock throbs inside of you.

“Look at that fucking face, cant take it?” he snickers. 

“I can, I can,” you pant tirelessly, legs getting sore. Your brows drew deeper as you concentrated on the feeling of his cock hitting your sensitive nerves so good, already so close to an orgasm from how big he is. 

But Jungkook wanted more. He wants it harder, rougher. He wants to shoot his hot cum so hard and deep inside your fresh womb, filling you up. He wants to wreck your body until you break. 

So he releases your hands free and instead grabs a hold of your waist firmly, keeping you still. He plants his feet on the bed and starts to thrust his hips up like crazy. 

Your jaw drops into an ‘o’ shape and you release a particular loud squeal. Your hands hold onto his broad shoulder, throwing your head back as he continues to drill your abused cunt. His balls slap against your ass, creating lewd slapping noises. 

“Dadddyyyyy!” you shriek, eyes expanding so wide from the unexpected bliss of electric currents shooting down your spine. You can't handle it, your orgasm snapping in a quick second. “I'm—!” 

Jungkook groans loudly when your pussy squirts your cum all over his dick and gushes all over his stomach. He fucks you through your mind-blowing orgasm, your eyes rolling back to your head as your legs shake from the unexpecting feeling. Your mind seems to cloud in lust as he doesn’t stop fucking you. 

“Shit,” he laughs, “look at this poor little girl.” Jungkook caresses your ass before he spanks it roughly, emitting a whimper from your mouth, kneading the bruised flesh right after. “Squirting all over daddy. You love my big cock so much, huh? You horny, desperate little slut.” 

Before you can even process what he just said, he flips you over until you lay down flat on your stomach. He hovers on top of you, keeping his dick in without pulling out. You yelp as he wraps his big hand around your throat, tightly squeezing your jugular without mercy. 

“A-ahhh oh—” you choke, letting your forehead down to rest on the sheets as he continues to pound you from behind. 

He had absolutely no mercy, using you as his little fucktoy for his pleasure, abusing your pussy like it was made for his demon cock. He chokes you harder, almost making you see stars. 

Your cunt throbs once again, signalling that another orgasm is coming near. “Ohhhh fuck fuck fuck fuck!” you moan, heavy puffs of breath coming out of your mouth every time he thrusts into you. 

Jungkook feels his nerves getting hotter and hotter, his cock aching to cum. He doesn't think of anything else but the way your walls clench so tightly around him. “Gonna break this motherfucking pussy of yours,” he growls, leaning down until his chest presses against your sweaty back. “I'm gonna fucking paint your walls with my cum, baby. You're gonna take all of it, you're gonna take all of daddy's cum in that tight cunt.”

Your legs squirm, hands closing into fists as you hit the bed over and over from how sensitive you become. Your hands claw the sheets tightly, back arching from the breathtaking pleasure. 

“Ahhhh daddy! Ohh my fucking— ahhh yes, yes yes!” your body crumbles, mouth wide open as you scream while you cum for the second time. Your pussy pulses so harshly around his dick, coating it with your juices, making it more wet for him. 

He groans, removing his hand from your throat and slaps your ass again. “Naughty little shit right here.” It was so messy, just how he likes it. His cum covered in your glistening arousal, fucking you through your high. 

He immediately flips you around again, making you face him. He smirks cockily from your flushed chest and face, noticing that you were having trouble opening your eyes. 

He leans down and rests his forearms beside your head, “Take it baby, take it.” he murmurs roughly, his balls getting heavier. “Take my fucking dick.”

Your legs never seem to stop quivering, everything around you seems blurry besides Jungkook's face. How does he still look so handsome and perfect? His black hair falls down his forehead, swaying with every hard thrust, his deep dimples peeking through when he bites his lower lip slowly while he savors the feeling of your warm, wet pussy. 

“Gonna cum in you baby,” he pants, holding your cheek in one hand. “Daddy’s gonna cum so fuckin’ hard for you.” You notice a dark, sinister forming his lips as he looks down at you. There it was again, that intimidating, almost teasing look. 

He growls roughly, hips staying still inside you as he dips down to gnaw at your shoulder. You hiss, whimpering when he sinks his teeth so harshly into your delicate skin, leaving an ugly mark. “Ah-ahh, daddy!” His cock spurts out warm strings of his seed, filling you up to the brim. 

“Mmm, mmm, fuck yeah,” he moans, “take it, Y/n.” 

When he pulls his cock out, his pupils enlarge as he sees your arousal dripping out of your cunt and onto your bed. He chuckles, stroking his cock a couple of times to milk himself furthermore, not wasting any of his sperm.

The two of you were breathless, breathing heavily. Your legs feel so sore and you can't feel them either, your ass stinging from his numerous rough spanks. 

“Clean yourself up, Y/n.” Jungkook suddenly throws you a wet towel, about to ask him where it came from, although he just stares at you blankly with a quirked brow. 

Gulping, you nod and start wiping yourself clean. 

~

He can't leave now. Not after all of this. 

There was something that attracted yourself to him. You can't seem to grasp what it is – but whenever Jungkook looks at you in the eyes, you feel like submitting. 

It was like your body doesn't belong to you anymore. He possesses your body now. 

“Crawl to me, my love.” He whispers, and you were easily drawn to his beautiful eyes. 

Still naked, you do as you're told and crawl towards the edge of the bed where he stands. He wears his pants, thankfully covering his goods. 

He sighs and softly caresses your cheek with a warm hand, making you flutter your eyes shut whilst leaning against his palm. He hums delightfully, smirking. 

“Surrender.” He purrs, eyes drooping down as he looks at you with such gentleness, almost with care. He leans down until your faces are mere inches away from each other. “Surrender to me, my love. And I’ll take you to somewhere you belong.”

Your eyes shimmer, batting your eyelashes as you gawk up at him with eagerness. “W-Where I belong?” you repeat in question.

“Yes, Y/n.” He smiles, showing you his perfect teeth. “Where no one will judge you, no one will criticize you for you. You can be whoever you want, you can do whatever you want. Isn’t that exciting, baby?”

Mouth getting dry, your nerves heat up once again, feeling nothing but anticipation. “Yes.”

Jungkook holds your face in two hands, compelling you to stare unswervingly at his red eyes. “Submit to me, Y/n, and you’ll never worry about this earth’s dreadful problems.” His voice gravelly yet dark, somehow different to his normal human speaking voice. 

You didn’t know what he really means by ‘submit’, or where he was supposed to take you. But your mind was telling you to go. Your consciousness speaks to you like someone was whispering in your ear what to do. You kneel before him, still keeping eye-contact. The air around the two of your shifts and it suddenly grows warm as your body starts to sweat.

“Where are…” your voice was breathy, “Where are you taking me?”

Jungkook starts to chuckle, brushing your hair back with his fingers. Suddenly, your heart races when he presses a tender, wet kiss on your forehead. Your eyes widen, heart beating out of your chest when he continues to kiss you down to the bridge of your nose, until it stops right upon your lips. He hovers his mouth right against yours, feeling his warm breath.

He whispers the words so ominously that goosebumps appear all over your arms and legs. “I’m gonna take you down to hell.” 

Jungkook watches your face go pale, all the blood leaving your face as you gaze at him with such big, surprised eyes. Without warning, he presses his lips against yours. You can’t keep up with him, his kiss rough and dominating. You whimper when his hand goes to wrap itself around your throat, pulling you closer. His tongue easily slips in your mouth, causing you to gasp. Jungkook smirks through the kiss as he controls the way your mouth moves. The two muscles dance together with such need and passion, hands getting sweaty. 

He bites your bottom lip, chewing on the soft flesh while he gently rolls it against his teeth. Jungkook growls, eyebrows furrowing. He can’t seem to get enough of you, wanting you all for himself. He’s addicted to you; your scent, your beautiful eyes, your body, he doesn’t want to leave this earth without you. 

He needs you down with him. 

Jungkook pulls out as he watches your flushed face, all out of breath. There was nothing else that you could do but whine about the loss of his lips. You were craving more of him. You pout, hoping that he’ll give in but Jungkook just shakes his head with a smirk. 

“Answer me, baby. Go down with me, and I’ll treat you so good.” He insinuates, “I’ll treat you like my own fucking queen. Don’t you want that?” 

You nod your head furiously, “I do want that,” you say softly. 

He clicks his tongue, “Tch, louder.” 

“I want it, please. Bring me with you.” Jungkook watches your pupils dilate, growing bigger as you speak. “Please.” 

Jungkook smiles. And within a flash, the black smoke that was encircling the two of you all this time thickens and starts to wash over the two of you. You cough uncontrollably yet Jungkook just stands there and watches. The smoke fills your lungs until you lose consciousness. 

~

Sounds of the crackling fire fills your eardrums, and your body tries to accommodate the scorching heat of your surroundings. 

Opening your eyes, you see that you’re nowhere in your room, or in the overworld. All that your eyes can see was miles and miles of dark red and black hills, huge torches of fire everywhere, scattered all over the place. There were girls and boys dressed in all black outfits, walking around the place with blank faces, eyes having stripped off of their emotions.

You look down on yourself and thankfully, you were wearing clothes. A tight red dress that hugs your body perfectly, enhancing your curves.

“Y/n.”

A soft voice calls out your name, and you whip around to see Jungkook in his demon form, smiling at you as he sits on his throne. You feel a warm, familiar feeling in your heart as if coming home and going to bed from a long trip. His blazing eyes lead you to a trance.

He beckons you to him for he lifts his right hand out to you. He eyes your body up and down, fixing his posture whilst he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. The way your hips gently sways as you make your way towards him – not losing eye contact – and how your irises burn in desire, it was all that Jungkook asks for.

Your legs move without your permission, leading you up the stone steps to his throne.

His hand was warm when you grasp it, although it was rough and almost hard unlike his human skin, you touch as if there was no difference. You weren’t afraid anymore. Jungkook signals you to sit on his lap, and you gladly obey. With legs on either side of his thigh, you straddle him.

“You’re mine, baby.” Jungkook snarls, “This is your place now.”

“I…” you speak for the first time, “I can’t see my friends and family anymore?”

He shakes his head no with a sly grin.

You exhale, a big smile painting your face. You’ve never felt so content and happy in your entire life.

“Then I love it here.”  

Jungkook makes sure that your angels can’t and won’t look for you anymore. He swears that he’ll protect you in every way possible, promising to shield you from anything that will hurt you. Jungkook looks at your beautiful red eyes, feeling your arms wrap around his neck as you pull him close. 

The last thing anyone should do is trust a devil — and that goes for your foolish angels. 

[ficsilike-reblogged]

What’s in a Name? Pt. II

A/N: So I know I said that the first part was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done...but this takes the cake. The softest, cheesiest thing I’ve ever written and I will apologize for nothing. 

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader (no y/n)

Rating: PG for mention of guns??? A few smooches or two.

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: The five times Marcus Pike tries to propose and the one time he actually does. 

(Beautiful art by my bb @bucketheadredacted​)

Read part one!

Marcus Pike was finally a man lucky in love.

Maybe. Hopefully. God, he really needed to be lucky. Just this once.

He had bought the diamond ring three months after she had moved in—that was him moving slowly! Honestly! He had felt the urge to look at rings only a month after she had kissed him in the park but had refrained, his past failed relationships whispering at the back of his mind. He didn’t want to push her away. Didn’t want to scare her by moving too fast. Didn’t want to break his own heart again. It had been a strange uphill battle to just learn her name—and now he wanted to give her his name, too.

But he loved her. Truly.

And he knew that within a month of stealing kisses and slipping into overpriced hotel rooms between briefings and meetings and auctions across the country. And Marcus hadn’t been able to stop himself from asking her if she wanted to move into his Washington D.C. apartment six months later.

The words had tumbled out of his mouth while they were still half asleep, his alarm blaring in the background, alerting them both that she needed to get up to fly back to New Orleans.

And she…giggled and rolled over to press a kiss to his lips, uncaring of his morning breath. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.”

And it had been perfect. It had been good to come home and see her jacket slung over the back of the chair, to smell her perfume lingering in the bathroom as she dashed out the door, to wake up next to her when they both had a reprieve from their chaotic jobs and not have to worry that they would have to separate again within a handful of hours. It was good even when she tried a new recipe and the entire apartment smelled like burnt noodles for two days.

But he wanted to call her his wife and he wanted to be her husband. He wanted to have a family with her and maybe buy a house a little further outside the city—she had mentioned that she wanted a dog and a cat. “With room for them to run around!” She said with a smile.

And that all circled back to the ring. The platinum ring with the princess cut diamond. The ring he had been hiding for ages. The ring he wanted to put on her finger—if she said yes. Or he would have to tuck his metaphorical tail between his legs (again) and nurse a broken heart (again) and listen to his coworkers well-meaning condolences (again).

“When are you gonna ask her, man?” One of his fellow agents asked as they parked the agency-assigned SUV in the underground lot. Marcus had made the mistake of mentioning how he had a ring waiting at the back of his sock drawer and this agent—and honestly? Marcus couldn’t even remember his name—latched onto that and had spent the last three hours trying to ‘help’ Marcus come up with a plan on how to propose.

Marcus had a plan already. Thank you very much.

“I am going to take her to see the fireworks over the river.”

“Romantic. Good choice.”

Marcus felt himself puff up a bit at that. It was romantic, wasn’t it? This would be fine.

                                                     **

It was not fine.

The spot Marcus had picked was already crowded by the time they arrived—he was still grumbling about the flat tire he had to fix on the way there but his mood shift when he heard her sigh. It was a happy sound that had a smile pushing at his own lips.

“This is a good spot. Good choice.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his warm cheek before turning and grabbing the cooler from the back of his car.

Marcus quickly patted his pocket and felt the ring safely in its confines. This could work, right? He just needed to wait for the fireworks. He set a checkered blanket on the warm grass and helped her unload their cooler, filled with her favorite picnic foods and maybe a bit of alcohol too, hidden away in two tumblers. The wind off the river was nice, keeping them from getting too overheated and someone further down the bank had set up a radio, letting music provide a backdrop to the quiet lapping water and the conversations from the strangers around them. He was not the best conversationalist, Marcus had to admit, he was busy rehearsing what he was going to say in his head over and over, trying to imagine if she would cry or smile—or just…say yes. But he made her laugh and earned a few more kisses when he managed to contribute to the conversation and fed her a few of the grapes from the cooler.

It was good…it was fine…until it wasn’t.

It started with her swatting at something on her arm just as the sun had disappeared beneath the horizon. That wasn’t uncommon; the East Coast was notoriously buggy during the summer. It was probably a mosquito.

But then it happened again and again and again until she was standing up with a shriek, wildly hitting at herself. “Marcus! Marcus!”

“Honey?”

“There’s ants everywhere!”

He glanced down and…yes, there were ants everywhere. And then he felt his first bite.

They quickly gained more than their fair share of attention as they both scrambled to get the hundreds of ants off of them, knocking over their food and cooler with unpleasant groans and gasps as they gained more ant bites.

In a rushed haze, still swatting at themselves, they gathered up their belongings and all but dumped them in the back of the car. When their tires hit highway, they heard the first boom of the fireworks.

                                       **

“How’re you feeling?” She whispered as she rubbed a bit more cream onto Marcus’s back. It had been almost a week since the ant incident and his body was still covered in small red bumps. A testament to his failure.

He reached back, a little awkwardly from his angle on his stomach, and grasped her hand. “I’m okay, honey.” He hummed when he felt her pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Marcus turned his head just a bit and looked at her hand. Her ring finger was still bare. The ring had been tucked away in his bedside drawer after they both scrubbed themselves clean and then all but bathed in calamine lotion. But Marcus was a man on a mission. Having brunch, just to the two of them, all calm and relaxed, was just as good as fireworks.

When she’d been showering earlier, he had called in a delivery from her favorite breakfast restaurant, the florist down the block, and snuck around the apartment to try to tidy up a bit. Not that the apartment needed much. He had set a new set of candles in two overly-priced candle holders and lit them…and then quickly snuffed them out, deeming it too early for candles. He had slipped back into bed just as she emerged in a puff of lavender steam from the bathroom, looking much more comfortable than she had in days.

He rolled over and sat up to steal a kiss against her smiling mouth before coaxing her down onto the bed to apply her share of the strangely scented lotion to her matching set of bumps and bites.

“You know,” she started, face squished in the pillow, “for what it’s worth, I did have a really good time.”

“Yeah?”

“You know I always like spending time with you.”

“Even if you get eaten alive by fire ants?” He asked, a smile pushing at his mouth as his fingers trailed down her back.

She laughed. “Even then.”

He leaned down to press a kiss behind her ear before finishing her layer of lotion and his smile only grew when he heard the familiar, satisfied hum rumble in her throat. A knock at the door had him rising. “I’ll be right back.” Marcus pulled on a shirt as he moved toward the door and opened it, happily seeing two delivery men. He paid them both quickly and moved to the kitchen to set everything up as he heard one of his least favorite sounds.

Her cellphone ringing.

Marcus placed the flowers in her favorite vase but didn’t even move to plate the food he’d had delivered. What was the point?

She came out of the bedroom, rubbing at her temples and her phone in her pocket. “I-”

“You have to go,” he said, finishing for her. “Where to this time?”

She grimaced. “Nowhere fun. But apparently a Pollock has surfaced at an auction set for tomorrow night.” Her eyes darted to the flowers and her grimace softened. “Are these for me?”

Marcus smiled and handed them to her, chuckling as she all but shoved her face into the blooms to inhale their scent. He tightened the knot on the top of the takeout and handed that to her, too. “Here, you can eat this on the road.” And when she opened her mouth to apologize, he kissed the words away. Marcus would never fault her for her job and its uneven schedule, just as she never held his strange hours against him. “Home by Wednesday?” He murmured against her lips.

“Home by Wednesday. I promise.”

When he closed the door to her taxi and waved as he watched the yellow car disappear around the corner, Marcus sighed. Strike two.  

                                                 **

Patrick Jane was not who Marcus wanted to see right now. And neither was Lisbon. But that was beside the point. The point was that Marcus hadn’t seen his Honey in almost three weeks because of a demanding client wanting more and more art work so she was flown all over Europe to different auctions and private sales.

He had remembered how he heard her sniffle over the phone when she told him that this client was asking her to pick up more art. “It is good money, really good. I can probably take a few months off after I do this but I…” she hiccupped and his heart broke. “But I just really miss you.”

And that was why he had booked a table at this beautiful and romantic restaurant after she had managed to sleep off her jet lag and rinse the grime of the plane from her skin.

Marcus ordered expensive wine that she knew she only ordered when she closed a big deal and asked the chef to place the ring on the top of the tiramisu he had scheduled to be brought out in exactly 47 minutes.

But that plan had been fantastically derailed when that obnoxious blond man spotted him from across the restaurant and then had the gall to ask the hostess to seat them near each other. (What were they even doing in DC?) For her part, Lisbon looked uncomfortable, too, as they made small talk.

With each passing word and each forced anecdote, Marcus felt himself deflate. There was no way he was going to propose to the love of his life in front of his ex-fiancée and her husband.

“You know,” Jane started and Marcus felt his teeth grind, “Marcus always struck me as a family man.”

She smiled and reached out to wrap her fingers around Marcus’ and squeezed. “He is.”

“Oh?” Jane continued, leaning forward in his seat. “Is a congratulations in order?”

Marcus could hear his teeth grinding but her grip tightened on his hand while her smile remained steady. “That is none of your business. I am sure you can fill your time poking and prodding into other people’s lives. Now, please, you have interrupted my long overdue date with the love of my life with your prattle. I’m sure you’re lovely, but I am done entertaining you.” She raised her other hand and asked for the check which was quickly given. The hostess, for her part, did glance to Marcus to make sure it was okay before he subtly nodded. The ring was slipped back into his hand by a sly waiter.

“Marcus,” Lisbon murmured, “we didn’t mean-”

Marcus stood and buttoned his jacket before helping his Honey into her coat. “Have a good night, Lisbon.”

And they left the restaurant, flagging down a taxi as thunder rolled overhead. Marcus made sure to open the taxi’s door for her and let her slide in before joining her in the backseat. The pair was quiet for a moment, and then two before she started to giggle. The giggle grew into a full-belly laugh that had tears gathering in her eyes and Marcus had to laugh, too. She always made him laugh.

“God!” She said. “He’s so full of himself. And truly, Marcus, I’m sure Teresa is lovely but she has terrible taste in men. Choosing that over you? I would never.”

Marcus felt a selfish bloom of pride swell in his chest. “Yeah?”

She leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. “Yeah. I don’t plan on ever letting you go.”

And you know? That made Marcus smile just as much as putting a shiny ring on her finger. She wanted him forever.

He could propose tomorrow.

                                             **

He did not propose tomorrow.

Or any day after that for the next three months. There just…wasn’t the right time. The ring he now kept in his suit jacket pocket seemed heavier by the day. Even his fellow agents seemed to pick up on the fact that something was bothering him.

“Fighting with your lady, Pike?” One of them asked as they were huddled around a table in the art storage room, trying to devise a plan to catch a thief who had managed to disappear with fourteen million dollars’ worth of some blueblood’s family heirlooms which included an Artemisia Gentileschi original. It was a brazen heist and obviously a huge case that needed to be their sole focus.

But sometimes his group of agents were a little nosey.

“We don’t really fight,” Marcus muttered as he looked over the blueprints of the family’s home, trying to find a way that the thief had come in and out. The official police report said a downstairs window was open but he didn’t believe that. “We have our disagreements but she is the most levelheaded person I know. The most heated conversation we had was over which diner had the best waffles.”

Another agent gagged. “You two are disgusting.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘perfect,’ actually.”

Marcus shook his head and bit back a laugh—they really needed to focus on this case. “We’re not perfect.” And they weren’t. No one was. But that didn’t mean he loved her any less.

“Still haven’t proposed, eh?”

“Shut up, man.” There was no heat to his tone as Marcus scrubbed a hand down his face before looking at his watch. It was almost eleven at night. “Go home. It’s late. We can pick this up in the morning.”

The rest of the group grumbled their thanks and disappeared to the upper levels of the building, probably in search of their forgotten dinners before going home. Marcus tapped his pencil on the blueprints, his eyes constantly moving to the door leading into the ‘piano room’ which then led down to the wine cellar. He wasn’t sure why, but something in his gut just told him the answer led to that set of rooms.

“Marcus?”

He jumped at the sudden noise but quickly righted himself as he saw her entering the fenced off storage area, carefully skirting around a prized Greco-Roman statue they had just recovered in Philadelphia. It was no longer a surprise to see her down here, the front desk guards knew her by face and name and all but gave her security clearance, easily letting her through when they knew Marcus was working late. He stood and walked over to her, pressing a kiss to her lips and then forehead in greeting, listening to her hum in contentment as her hands wound around his waist. “What are you doing here, Honey?”

She smiled as she looked at him and shrugged. “I knew you were working late. Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d keep you company instead of tossing and turning.”

“You know I’m always happy to see you.” He led her over to the table and told her a little about the case, as much as he could without truly getting in trouble, and let her look over his notes.

She frowned as she turned the blueprints around and looked at them. “These people are like…billionaires, right?”

Marcus confirmed it with a frown but let her continue.

“Right. So, last time I was in LA, I was at that big, private auction at one of the gaudiest homes I’ve ever visited. Remember me telling you about that? The host got so drunk that he demanded he show everyone his three panic rooms and the private tunnel he had requested be dug behind his laundry room in the basement. Apparently he bribed the city inspector to keep it off the official blueprints so that a thief couldn’t use that tunnel.” She held up the blueprints and tapped at the wine cellar. “Ten bucks says there’s more to this wine cellar than just some ridiculous vintages.”

Marcus could feel his face lighting up. She was amazing.

They spoke a little longer, about possible suspects and how there was probably more than one thief—or at least a getaway driver—before their conversations shifted.

“The guys upstairs said something funny.”

“Hm?”

“They called me Mrs. Pike.”

His next breath nearly choked him. He was going to kill the guards upstairs. “O-oh? Really?”

“I think it sounds nice,” she said, her tone a little embarrassed. “Not that I haven’t thought about it before.” She smiled a bit, almost nervous. “We’ve talked about it, me and you, but to hear someone else say it…makes it sound…really nice.” She hid her embarrassment behind her hand and shook her head.

“I think it sounds nice, too.” He could do it. Right now. He could do it. They were surrounded by beautiful art. All by themselves. There was a light in her eyes that made his heart squeeze. His hand patted the pocket where he kept the ring and-

-it was gone.

“Marcus?” Her tone was filled with worry and she reached out to trail a finger over the crease that had erupted between his eyebrows, a gesture she did often when he brought work home with him. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. I’m fine, honey.”

He most certainly was not but it wasn’t like he could tell her that or propose. ��Yes, honey. I lost your engagement ring. Will you marry me?’ Fuck.

                                          **

The next day Marcus was stopped by the man at the front desk as he headed toward his office. “Everyone’s been telling me about your big plans. Can’t do it without this.” He handed over a small bag and inside…was the ring.

“Where’d you find it?” Marcus asked, stashing the ring in his briefcase this time. 

Apparently his pocket couldn’t be trusted.

“Parking lot.”

Marcus could only sigh.

                                       **

This was it. This had to be it.

If it wasn’t? He was sure the universe was telling him to just give up. They were happy, right? In love? Maybe they didn’t have to be married. Maybe…

No. No, he wanted to be her husband and he wanted her to be his wife. And that was why the ring was (safely and securely) stowed away in his wallet. He just needed the right time.

She was sitting across from him at their favorite diner, a stack of pancakes and a plateful of waffles between them and half-finished milkshakes abandoned near the saltshakers as they tried to guess which type of syrup was in each little carafe from a single bite. It was a game they played a few times before—one they had played on their first official date, actually. It had lasted well past the dinner and museum visit he had planned and into the morning where they had landed at the diner as the sun rose.

“This has to be strawberry,” she said as she finished her bite. “What do you think?” She asked, holding out the fork for him to take.

He took his bite and nodded. “Strawberry, definitely.”

She lifted the carafe and smiled as she read the tape on the bottom. “Point for us!” They high-fived across the table, laughing. The waitress who always served them shook her head with a smile from her place at the counter, knowing their game too well.

Marcus poured the syrup on their next bite and guessed its flavor before letting her take a guess.

“Um…blueberry?” She licked her lips, contemplating. “Maybe?” As Marcus lifted the carafe and confirmed that it was indeed blueberry, she continued. “Oh, a display of Alphonse Mucha is coming to Georgetown.”

Marcus smiled. Over an hour of their first date had been filled with soft whispers and shy smiles in front of a wall of Mucha sketches. They had been asked to leave by a polite but tired museum guard, not realizing they were there past closing. It was one of his fondest memories. One of the first times he realized she was truly special. He fell a little (more) in love with her that night. “We should go.”

“I’ll get tickets!”

This was the time. This was the moment. He pulled his wallet out under the table and curled his finger around the ring and watched as she smiled, wiping a bit of syrup from her chin. “I love you.”

She paused and looked at him, smile continuing to grow. “And you know I love you, too.”

“And I’ve loved you for a long time. You make my life better, make me better. I know our jobs are crazy. But they’re beautiful. Filled with art and excitement. But you’ve really…made my life a masterpiece.”

“Marcus?” Her voice was soft, eyes narrowing just slightly.

But Marcus pressed forward. “And I know that’s cheesy but I-”

And his phone was ringing. Why of all times was his phone ringing? And worst of all, it was the ringtone he had set for his boss. He had to answer. And she knew it, nodding just once with a fading smile. 

He stood from his seat and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he murmured before slipping away with his phone pressed to his ear.

                                               **

Marcus was tired. Tired.

He had been to New York to Miami to Orlando to Atlanta and then finally to Rio. The band of thieves, making a run for it with millions of dollars of art—including a da Vinci sketch. But he and his team caught them before they disappeared into the wind and the art was lost to the black market.

But he was tired.

He yawned as he drove through the mostly-quiet streets, ready to slip back into his apartment and pull his honey into his arms and then…sleep for three days. 

That sounded wonderful.

But then his phone rang again.

And he had to answer it.

Thankfully, it was a short call. Someone had just broken in to one of the smaller museums in Georgetown and they wanted Pike to catch the thief in the act. Marcus sighed as he tossed his phone in the passenger seat. If this went well, it meant less paperwork. And then he could sleep.

The museum was dark when he arrived. There was only a faint bit of life coming from around of one the corners and he slunk around in the shadows, a hand on his gun. He was ready. He could stop a theft before it happened. He could-

Marcus stopped dead in his tracks as he realized what he was looking at.

Standing in the center of the hall, surrounded by (electronic) candles and priceless Mucha originals, was his Honey. His Venus.

“Hi Marcus.”

He took one step forward and then two and then three-

And she dropped to one knee and gently grasped his hands in hers, tears filling her beautiful eyes. “You make me smile every day. Even when I feel the need to hide all your socks after you make me mad. You have given me a new way of seeing art, appreciating it. You, Marcus Pike, have helped me grow, helped me breathe when I thought the world was just too much, helped me learn what strawberry syrup tastes like.”

Marcus had to laugh at that, feeling tears start to gather in his eyes. “And pecan, too.”

“And pecan syrup, too.” She squeezed his hands again with a growing smile. “I’ve never known love like this. And I never want to be without it. I never want to be without you. I just…” she hiccupped, a few tears falling down her cheeks. “I just love you. Will you marry me? Can I be Mrs. Pike?”

Marcus pulled his hands from hers and quickly pulled his wallet from his back pocket, pulling the ring (finally), from its depths. “Can I ask you, too?”

She all but tackled him to the sparkling marble floors and pressed kiss after kiss to his cheeks, chin, brow, and lips, a laugh on her tear-stained lips. “Ask me.”

“Will you marry me?” The words finally came out in a rush, his heart beating wildly behind his ribs as he watched her smile. Her beautiful smile.

“Yes.”

A/N: Please let me know what you think!

[theweasleysredhair]

Truth or Dare [S.B.]

Character: Sirius Black

Word Count: 1547

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: An almost innocent game of truth or dare leads to Sirius finally confessing the feelings he has for a certain someone.

Tags: @dreamer821 @gracemayhateyou @criminalyetminimal @firewhisky-kisses @obsessedwithrandomthings @angelinathebook @iprobablyshipit91 @potterverseimagine @slytherineheir @kpopgirlbtssvt @susceptible-but-siriusexual @tinylumpiaa @locke-writes | message or send an ask to be added/removed!

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: i had an idea, i ran with it, and this happened. definitely not one of my best but i guess it’s something

+ + + + +

"Padfoot, truth or dare?" James asked with a cheeky grin and a mischievous glint in his eye. "Why are you even asking? Dare," Sirius replied, lazily taking a sip from his firewhisky bottle.

James' grin stretched wider, if it were possible, and Sirius sat up more on his bed, gulping. Usually, he wouldn’t be too worried about what James would come up with, knowing his friend wasn’t exactly the most creative with dares, however something told Sirius this time was different.

"I dare you to touch Y/n's boob." 

The deafening silence after the dare was announced was broken by James’ laugher that escaped him at the look on Sirius’ face, Remus joining in soon after, sniggering to himself.

"Y/n's boob? Why?" Sirius spluttered, his heart racing. Of course he wanted to touch your boob! But not like this.

"Because you like her," James said bluntly, before pausing and then adding in thought, "And she has nice boobs, one of us should get to touch them."

Sirius glared at him, reaching over and smacking him across the head. "Ow! What was that for?!" "For looking at her! She's mine to look at, not yours!"

"Then go and touch her boob and confess your feelings and no guy will ever dare to look at her again, problem solved,” James frowned, rubbing his head.

"Fine. I will,” Sirius said determinedly, if a tad sulkily, “Next time I see her.”

-

By the next morning, Sirius had completely forgotten about the dare. Luckily, James hadn’t.

And as Sirius took his place at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, he cursed as he looked up to find three expectant faces staring back at him.

Sirius paused midway through his first bite of toast, “What do you three want?”

James shared an amused look with Peter and snickered under his breath, “Oh, nothing much. We’re just waiting for you to finish your dare from last night.”

Sirius felt his heart jolt - surely the dare couldn’t be that bad though, could it? “Which dare?” He asked as he grabbed a fork to pile some bacon onto his plate.

“Have you forgotten already? Better not drink as much next time, Padfoot,” James tutted, shaking his head in mock-condescension, before continuing, “The dare where you have to touch Y/n’s boob.”

And suddenly the memory of the dare came screaming back to Sirius, and his face paled. He dropped his fork to his place, causing a clatter that turned a few heads, but he paid them no mind, “Fuck.”

James held his hand up to Remus for a high five, who hit it without looking as he finished his breakfast.

“I’m just a genius. An actual bloody genius! I’m just so proud of myself for this one,” James boasted, grinning from ear to ear as he sat back and enjoyed how annoyed Sirius appeared to be getting.

“Oh yeah?” Sirius grumbled, “Why don’t you just go and shove your proudness right up your-“

“There she is!” Remus interrupted him, nodding over to the entrance of the hall, where you were walking towards your house table with a couple of friends.

“Go on then, Padfoot,” Peter goaded, letting out a squeaky laugh.

“Well I’m not about to do it right in front of everyone am I? I’m more of a gentleman than that,” Sirius ran a hand through his hair, staring at the food on his plate that no longer seemed appealing, and trying to avoid the temptation of looking over at you.

“I’m sorry, did you just call yourself a gentleman?” Remus scoffed in disbelief.

“I did ballroom dancing and played piano as a child!”

“Only because you had to.”

Sirius scowled, pushing his plate away.

“A dare is a dare, Sirius,” James said, glancing over in your direction. Sirius sighed, running a hand down his face and wondering what he had gotten himself into.

“Fine, I’ll do it. But not here.”

-

Sirius watched you from across the hall, talking with your friends as you waited outside the Transfiguration classroom for the lesson to start. His eyes drifted across your features - your bright eyes, the curve of your nose and down to your lips - and down to where his target was - your chest.

“I can’t do this! It’s degrading,” Sirius frowned, shaking his head and throwing his arms up in the arm in emphasis as he turned to his friends.

“I’m sure she’ll get over it if you ask her out, I’ve heard she quite fancies you,” Remus mentioned casually, flicking through his Transfiguration textbook.

Sirius slammed a hand down on the textbook, making Remus jump and nearly drop it, “Moony, what do you mean, she fancies me? And you’re just telling me now? For Merlin’s sake, you’re telling me that she bloody likes me?!”

Remus pulled the book away from him, closing it and tucking it under his arm, “Yeah, for a while now.”

“I hate you so much for not telling me. Fine, I’m going!” Sirius announced as he turned away to walk over towards you.

Just as Sirius was out of earshot, James leant over to Remus, “I never heard anything about her liking Padfoot, who told you that?”

“Oh, nobody. I made it up, I just want to see him make a fool of himself,” Remus grinned at his messy haired friend, who now sported an impressed look.

“Maybe you’re the genius, Moony,” James said in awe, receiving a ‘well, duh’ look from Remus.

Just down the hall, Sirius marched to your friend group, looking a lot more confident that he felt. The door to the classroom had just opened as he reached you, so he called out, “Hey Y/n!”

Your friends had just headed into the room as you turned at the sound of your name, but before you could reply, you realised you were very close to somebody - namely, the eldest Black brother.

Your eyes widened as you slowly looked down at the slight pressure that had just been applied to your chest.

“Sirius!" You squeaked. “What?" He replied innocently. You looked up at him, suddenly feeling a lot warmer than you were previously.

“Why in Merlin's name are you holding my boob?" You hissed, your eyes still wide and mouth dropping slightly.

Sirius' cheeks redden, and Merlin if his heart isn’t beating faster than he could ever remember it going, "I mean it's... it's a good boob... good good good.”

“Well um... thank you? I think. But... would you mind letting go?"

"Oh! Oh yeah of course, yeah my bad, sorry." Sirius removed his hand promptly, stepping back and creating a bit more space between you. And had he have turned to look at his friends, he would’ve noticed James practically falling onto the floor with his laughing, clutching onto the arms of Remus and Peter - who also looked amused - for support.

You straightened out your jumper and looked at the now seemingly nervous boy, “Now may I ask why you decided to do that?”

“Well you see... me and the lads were kinda playing truth or dare last night, and Prongs - I mean James - decided to dare me to touch your boob because he knows I’ve fancied you since, well, as long as I can remember.”

“And so you went through with it?” You asked, scoffing amusedly.

“Um... yes,” Sirius hung his head, half in shame and half in hopes of hiding his still-red cheeks.

“You know you could’ve just, I don’t know... spoken to me? Like a normal person?”

Sirius looked up at you and grinned, “Well yeah... yeah I suppose I could have but this way, I got to touch your boob - which was a revelation, a mind blowing experience, by the way - and you got to find out how it feels to have me-“

“To have you what? Grope me without so much as a word?” You cut in, shaking your head but nevertheless letting out a small laugh.

“I mean I wouldn’t say it was groping... more of a light pat, perhaps a squeeze-“

“Besides the point, Sirius. Bloody hell, didn’t even ask me on a date first,” You now grinned, leaning back against the doorframe behind you.

His face lit up, “I mean I’d definitely love to go on a date with you, yes love!”

You frowned, your mouth slightly dropping again, “Wait I wasn’t asking-“

“Meet me outside the Gryffindor common room on Saturday at 3,” Sirius interrupted you, beginning to step away backwards in the direction of his friends, “Give me a chance to apologise for this whole thing.”

“Again, I wasn’t asking you on a date!” You called after him, though you weren’t opposed to the idea of a date with the guy you’d liked for just over a year now.

“And yet we’re going on one. Funny how things turn out, huh?” Sirius replied, “And maybe at the end of the date - or perhaps during - I’ll be able to touch your boob again.”

You shook your head, smiling at his cheekiness as he walked off to thank James for the dare, leaving you confused at the encounter, but with a warm feeling in your stomach at the idea of a date with the handsome boy.

[cantteachanoldguardnewquotes]

It's Too Early For This

No warnings apply

Read on AO3

"Who took the car out?" Joe asked walking into the kitchen and giving Nicky a quick good morning kiss on his forehead.

"Hmm? I'm not sure, you're the first person I've seen since I got up around seven."

"Maybe Nile and Quynh took it. I thought they were planning something last night but I figured they'd tell us before they went anywhere."

"I'm sure they'll be back soon." Nicky said.

"I doubt it." Booker said joining them in the  kitchen and getting a coffee mug from the cupboard. "Look at the text Nile sent me." He showed them his phone, revealing a selfie of Nile, Andy, and Quynh outside a restaurant with the caption 'this better be worth the four hour trip.' under it.

Joe huffed. "They drove all that way and didn't even ask if I wanted to go?"

Nicky tried not to laugh at his husband's dismay but couldn't stop his amused grin. "I'm sure they meant no offense, maybe next time you can join them."

"When did they even leave? Who goes and gets food that far away? I mean they still have to drive all the way back." Booker shook his head in disbelief.

"I can see Nile and Quynh doing something like that, but Andy?" Nicky asked.

"I'm sure Quynh didn't have much trouble convincing her." Joe said with a grin.

"True." Nicky and Booker said at the same time.

"Guess I get the remote all day." Booker said.

"Not if I get it first." Joe took off for the living room with Booker close behind him yelling threats in multiple languages.

Nicky chuckled and went back to making breakfast.

**

(Earlier that morning)

"Andy." Andy heard Quynh call her name but it was such a faint whisper she was sure she was dreaming.

"Andy." Quynh said again this time with the lightest shake of her shoulder.

Andy sat up with a jolt. "What's wrong? Is someone... Nile? What do you need?" It was so dark out Andy didn't have a clue what time it was, only a faint glow from the hallway allowed her to see Quynh and Nile's outlines.

"Shh shh, nothing's wrong everything's fine." Quynh reassured her. "We just wanted to let you know we're leaving to get some breakfast, you're welcome to join us but you don't have to.

Andy rubbed her eyes trying to process what was going on. "Breakfast? What time is it now?"

Nile bit her lip. "It's, uh, four a.m." She said sheepishly.

Andy groaned and flopped back down on the bed. "I hate you both."

"Quynh pecked her on the lips. "No, you don't." She said with a sly grin.

Andy cracked an eye open, half her mouth quirking up in a smile. "No, I don't." She sighed looking back and forth between the two of them. "You're crazy. What's even open at this hour?"

Nile's grin somehow looked even more sheepish. "The place doesn't open till eight but that's fine cause it's four hours away and it will be open when we get there."

"You're telling me going to drive for four hours? For breakfast?" Andy asked shaking her head.

They nodded in unison, neither of them giving any indication they would change their minds.

"It's alright." Quynh gave Andy a reassuring pat. "Like we said we only wanted you to know where we are, no need to get up."

"Oh, you're not getting rid of me that easily." Andy said, as she pulled off the covers and stood up. "Let me change and then we can go."

"Yes!" Quynh asked too loud in her  excitement.

"Shhh. You'll wake the guys." Nile said bringing her finger to her lips.

"Sorry." Quynh whispered. "Really? You're not too tired?" She asked.

Andy snorted. "Yes, really, I might be mortal but I'm not an invalid. Besides, I have to see for myself if this food is worth it or if you both are going on a wild goose chase."

Quynh laughed and kissed Andy's cheek. "It will be an adventure either way!"

"I'll go start the car." Nile said with amusement.

**

After hours of would you rather, guess my animal, who can finish the alphabet first by collecting letters from license plates and signs, and non stop singing, Andy was finally pulling off the much anticipated exit they needed.

They all needed to go to the bathroom and Nile and Quynh were so hyped up on energy drinks Andy didn't even know how they were sitting still anymore. She'd only had two coffees the whole trip and was feeling every second of the long car ride.

"There it is!" Nile shouted poking her head between the driver and captain seat pointing in her excitement.

Andy cocked her head to the side at the sudden noise in her ear, but chuckled all the same at Nile's unbridled enthusiasm. She parked and they all got out, happy to stretch their legs and backs.

"I hope you're hungry, dear." Quynh said grabbing Andy's hand and leading her towards the door.

It was eight in the morning, but the restaurant was already busy. 

Andy flipped open the menu to study it. They hadn't even told her what type of food this place served.

"So, the reason Quynh and I picked this particular restaurant is because it has a huge breakfast and if you finish it in an hour by yourself you get it for free, and we wanted to see how far we could get. Of course you can get whatever you want that's just what they're famous for." Nile explained eyeing the menu as well.

"It ends at ten so we wanted to get here early, since they can get really busy and we didn't want to wait." Quynh added.

"Well if that's what they're known for I'll give it a shot." Andy said.

"Should we choose a prize for the winner?" Quynh asked, leaning forward like she was conspiring.

"The losers each have to buy dinner for the winner, whatever meal they want." Andy suggested.

Nile laughed. "We're not going to want to look at food for a week after this."

"No, expiration date. We'll want to cash in eventually." Quynh grinned.

"Deal."

"Deal."

They ordered and the food just kept coming even Nile and Quynh who had read about the breakfast seemed surprised by the large portion sizes. They were served eggs, bacon, ham, sausage, pancakes, waffles, fruit, hash browns, and coffee. It all looked delicious and smelled heavenly.

"You have an hour to finish if you want your name on the wall." Their server said gesturing to the far wall. It already had a few names on it but not many.

They all shared excited glances, then dug in.

"They have different flavored syrups too." Nile said happily dousing her pancakes in blueberry syrup.

"Is blueberry syrup your favorite?" Quynh asked.

"I like them all, it just depends on what I'm feeling."

"Would you like some coffee with that cream?" Andy teased as Quynh added a ton of vanilla creamer to her coffee.

"You have no room to talk, you put ketchup on your eggs." Quynh shot back grinning and handing her the bottle of ketchup.

"That's how they were intended to be eaten." Andy argued with a smirk.

Nile made a disgusted face. "No, eggs are best with cheese."

"You can still put ketchup on that and it's delicious."

Quynh and Nile shared a 'not on a million years would that taste good' look and laughed.

They ate so much they all felt like they might explode. They were forty-five minutes in and only Andy was still going strong.

Quynh was still giving it her best shot but she had slowed down a lot.

Nile was only picking at her food by now but she had finished a lot more than she thought she'd be able too.

Right before their hour was up their server came over to check on them.

Andy was just putting the last bite of waffle in her mouth.

Quynh and Nile still had some food left over unable to take another bite.

"Looks like we have a winner!" Their waitress said. "Just follow me and you can sign your name on the wall."

Nile and Quynh followed Andy over to watch.

Andy hesitated for a split second trying to decide which name to write then chose Andromache.

"Yay!" Nile cheered and clapped.

Quynh gave her a kiss and congratulated her.

"And if it's alright, we'll take your photo and keep it on the wall for a month." The waitress said.

Andy shook her head. "No pictures, but thank you."

Before Andy could reach the car Nile said. "I'll drive home."

Andy nodded, climbing into the backseat, and laid down. "Thanks, I'm not going to be able to stay awake after all that."

"We'll keep the noise down." Quynh reassured her, sitting in the front seat so Andy would have some more room, and she could keep Nile company.

"Appreciate it." Andy mumbled already drifting off.

Quynh smiled fondly, giving Andy's knee a gentle squeeze. "Sleep well." She murmured.

They started the long drive back to the safe house talking about nothing in particular, music playing softly.

"Was it worth the trip?" Nile asked Quynh.

Quynh thought about how much fun they'd had on the way down, the delicious meal, all the shared laughs, and Andy sleeping peacefully in the backseat. "I would do it again in a heartbeat." 

"Me too."

[bagelbright-tok]

Reflection

Jotaro (3) x Fem!Reader

[FINISHED FIC]

Warning(s): Violence, descriptions of life threatening injuries, descriptions of blood, life threatening experience, trauma, descriptions of pure anguish, five stages of grief, depression, angst, poor writing, I did not double-check or reread anything.

Word Count: 1946

__

I’m Sorry.

__

It'd already been several hours since Polnareff burst out of the bathroom, panicking about an enemy attack. The enemy being the man with two right hands. The man who had slaughtered Polnareff's sister. It was understandable that he wanted to go off on his own to hunt down the monster, but it wasn't smart.

Not smart at all. In the hotel, in Jotaro's and your shared room, you expressed your worry.

"I'm so nervous. I've never been so full of anxiety." You say quietly, plopping on the bed. "I'm sure he can fend for himself, but not even he knew what the enemy's ability is."

"You need to stop worrying. It's his problem. He's the one who decided to go off on his own." Jotaro said calmly, in his usual monotone voice. He removed his hat, placing it on the nightstand. "He even said when we met him that he was coming with us to get revenge for his sister."

You sigh, finally laying down on the edge of the bed, "You're right. I guess I just get attached too quick," You admit with defeat, "I'll miss him. He was like the… the comedy break in this depressing trip."

"Hm." Jotaro agreed, removing his jacket and setting it wherever he could.

Jotaro got in bed and finally you decided to place yourself in a more comfortable position on said bed. 

____ You'd been dating Jotaro for about two years now. You've had your Stand, Knight's Cups, since you had been born. It was more of a defensive than offensive, but could do damage if used correctly.

Knight's Cups could create barriers. These barriers were usually cloudy but mostly clear. You could create as many as you wanted, but the more you created the more energy you used. The same applied to size. You could make a barrier around the entirety of the world, but that would kill you before you were a quarters way done. You tend to stick to singular barriers to protect yourself or singular barriers around the enemy to capture them in a way. In some cases, you could shrink the barrier with someone inside. This would obviously crush them to death. You had no limit as to how small you could make your barriers. As with most Stands, there was the downside. Your Stand was the barrier. If the barriers were actually penetrated or cracked, it would seriously harm you.

___

The next day, likely around lunch time. You, Jotaro, Joseph, Kakyoin, and Avdol were all sitting around the table, an extra seat bothering every single one of you. It was empty. It shouldn't be an extra seat. It should be occupied by the silver haired Frenchman. Avdol was most bothered by it. It was obvious in his silence and disturbed facial expressions.

Eventually, Avdol stood, "Excuse me, I need some air." He casually left the table and went outside.

After five minutes, you spoke, "He didn't just go out to get some air, did he?" You look up and around the table.

They all shook their heads. The somber mood turned tense as everyone stood up at once and rushed out of the building. Without another word spoken, everyone split up. Jotaro went one way, Joseph went another, Kakyoin took a different route, and you went running where your gut told you to go. Eventually, you felt relieved to see Avdol's familiar red robes in the distance. You caught up with him, and became happier when you saw him tackle Polnareff. Concern quickly took over though when you saw a bullet fly by, nearly missing Polnareff.

You jumped in front of them, using Knight's Cup to create a barrier just to cover you, Avdol, and Polnareff. A bang rang out, and you felt a small throbbing pain in your stomach. It felt like someone grabbed a piece of your skin and ripped it out. But nothing had actually hit you. You focus on the cloudy figure in front of you. A cowboy with a gun. He shot at your barrier, which really did nothing but pain you.

"Does this guy even have a Stand? He's shooting a gun-" You were confused until Polnareff interrupted,

"That is his Stand!" Polnareff got up and dusted himself off.

Avdol did the same. "Lower the barrier, [Y/N]. All three of us can take him on." Avdol began to summon his Stand.

Polnareff already had Silver Chariot out. You nod, and as you were about to remove the barrier, you felt a great pain in your backside. It was different than having your barrier hit. Something was physically stabbing your backside. You groaned as your body reacted by arching. Your barrier went down.

"[Y/N]!" Both Avdol and Polnareff yelled at once. They tried to rush to you, but another bang rang out.

Everyone was caught off guard. Avdol was shot in the head. He collapsed in front of Polnareff and beside you. You tried to remain standing as the sharp object within you was removed.

"Avdol!" Polnareff yelled out, now focusing his attention on Avdol. 

You tried to attack the cowboy with a barrier, but a bullet can move faster than you. You felt the horrendous pain of a bullet entering your chest and nearly piercing your heart. The blood spilling from your back had already soaked you in its warmth. It only got warmer when your chest began to bleed as well. You couldn't stay up anymore. You fell backward, now spilling blood in the dry sand of Calcutta. The sand easily soaked it all up.

"No! [Y/N]!" Polnareff was now knelt between you and Avdol.

"Polnareff! Avdol! [Y/N]!" Kakyoin had come running. Everything happened so fast. 

Kakyoin had arrived just as Avdol and you were shot. He could do nothing. Neither could Polnareff. In just one minute, two people had died. At least, that is what was believed.

__

You couldn't protect Avdol, you only hoped for the best. But you knew you couldn't beat a bullet. Your barrier had gone down and so when you saw where Hol Horse was aiming, you put a half barrier over your heart. You couldn't protect whatever damage Hanged Man had done. If you'd known Avdol was going to get shot at, you would have put a barrier around him.

Right now, your only chance of survival was not bleeding out. Unfortunately, Polnareff and Kakyoin didn’t realize you were still alive. They ended up driving off, away from Hol Horse but being chased by J. Geil. Little had you known, you would be rotting next to Avdol’s dead corpse. Soon, hope for survival diminished. You were slowly slipping. You didn’t know how you lasted as long as you did. As things began to fuzz between reality and the great beyond, you heard the commotion of people surround you and Avdol. You could hear Joseph and Jotaro speaking.

“A-Avdol..? [Y-Y/N]..?” It was a shell shock for the old man. He groaned in distress as he looked at his friends’ dead bodies.

Jotaro was most upset. He was staring right at his girlfriend’s corpse. Blood spilled from your back and your chest. He staggered.

“J-Jotaro… You shouldn’t have to see her like this..” Joseph looked over at his grandson with pity and sorrow.

“[Y/N].” Jotaro’s usual tone was dry, almost cracking under the wave of emotions that crashed into him, toppling his strong form.

The teen’s eyes were wide, full of horror, shock, and pure sadness. She couldn’t be dead. They were just eating an hour ago. She wasn’t dead. Jotaro took a step forward, falling to his knees in front of her lifeless body. Who had done this? If he were to find out, he’d give them Hell, and then some. He gritted his teeth. Why did this have to happen? To him? To her? To [Y/N]? Couldn’t he do something? Anything?! He had one of the most powerful Stands and yet all he could do was remain still and allow the depression to roll in. How could he further this journey to save a woman he loved when he would lose another lady he loved? How would he cope? He would just have to. Do what he did best. Bottle up his emotions.

But- there was something. Something his Stand’s hearing could pick up. He was shocked now. Less negative, more positively. Was it shallow breathing? A very faint heartbeat? Yes.

“Jotaro-” Joseph tried to comfort the teen, but Jotaro wasn’t having it.

“Shut it, old man.” Jotaro swung his hand up to Joseph, signaling for him to shut up. “I hear something.”

“Jotaro, I know it can be hard, I have experienced this before, but-”

“Shut up!” Jotaro yelled, “I think- I think [Y/N]’s alive.”

“What? Jotaro are you sure?” Joseph was shocked, but was doubtful. It could be denial, or perhaps Jotaro finally lost his marbles.

“Yes. I can hear her.” Jotaro quickly responded, shuffling back to his feet and scrambling to you. “[Y/N]. [Y/N]!” He took hold of your limp form and began to shake you a bit, slightly waking you.

You groaned out of reaction to the sudden movement. You still remained relatively unconscious. Jotaro was suddenly relieved. He sighed, almost chuckling out of happiness.

“A-- Avdo-l…” You slur out, barely able to really think.

“Is Avdol alive too?” Joseph was curious as he went over to his friend’s body.

Jotaro could only hear your life. Avdol was dead. Jotaro shook his head, relieved his love was alive, but sad his friend was dead. Right then and there, they had to figure out what to do. As immoral as it may be, you alive was more important than their already dead friend. But, they agreed that Jotaro would take you to treat your wounds while Joseph would bear the burden of having to give his fallen friend a shotty funeral.

***

You would awaken, alive, not necessarily well, but alive. You quickly shot up from your laid down position, immediately regretting it as pain soared from your back to your entire body. You suck on your teeth and groan, instantly falling back down onto the ground you were laying on. Jotaro was there, waiting for you to return to the world. The black haired teen quickly ran to your side, making sure you were okay.

“Are you okay? What happened?” He began to question you, still worried.

“I- Ugh- I’m fine, Jojo. Polnareff got attacked, me and Avdol-” At the mention of his name, you turned your head around to see if he was also there, “Where is Avdol? Is he okay? He got shot. Jotaro, Avdol got shot! Is he-!?” You began to panic quickly, almost breaking into a sob just remembering the scene.

Jotaro’s shaking of his head interrupted you. It left you speechless. A singular silent gesture left you gasping for words. You moved back to sitting up. You grabbed Jotaro and pulled him into a hug. Jotaro was surprised and fell into it, unsure of how to react. You grabbed at his back, getting a grip into his black jacket, basically clawing into his backside. You choked on the sobs that hiked through your throat. For a moment, Jotaro just let you break into him. Though the edgy teen did realize that maybe hugging back would be good. Cautiously and slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you back for comfort. He didn’t apply too much pressure due to the stab wound on your back and the small bullet wound in your chest.

Jotaro could really only utter two words for you; “I’m sorry.”

___

E N D

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Once upon a time in NYU- MGG AU

Fandom: MGG, Criminal Minds

Pairing: College!Matthew X College!Reader

Summary: you couldn't stand Matthew, and he couldn't stand you. But you couldn't say the same when you were in his bed

Warnings: alternative universe, enemies to lovers relationship, cursing duh, hair pulling, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, bad writing basically

WC: 6.1k 

A/N: so I saw I think it was @eideticmemory​ write an enemies to lovers college fic and like a light just went on in my head, and I really wanted to that because I've always wanted to, but also give it my own twist and touch of course, so I guess this my attempt at writing a multi-chapter Matthew fic. Will I succeed? Probably not. But it's a good excuse to write smut after a year so we'll see. ALSO HUGE TW I understand posting this now might be a bit of a bad timing. So if you think that reading this will trigger you in any way, just go ahead and skip this one. I dont want to trigger anyone in any way, I just want to entertain you guys and myself in the process so yeah, read at your own risk and please please stay safe. And this is going to be a bit long so strap in yall and enjoy the poorly written sin. 

Andddd huge huge thanks to my friend Kara (idk if shes reading this but yeah) for helping me edit this, she helped me make this so much better for you guys and she literally so amazing for actually spending the time to help me. So yeah, 

You know when something bad happens, you’re always told to see the bright side of things? That maybe that unfortunate event isn’t as bad as you feel it is? Yeah, well, that doesn’t always apply, and it certainly didn’t when I found out I was partnered with the one person I was hoping I wouldn’t get paired with for my end of the semester film project. 

Seriously, out of the nearly hundred students that were enrolled in my film class, I had to get paired up with him, him out of all people, literally the one person I was praying wouldn't get paired up with. Not only because I was forced to work with someone, because honestly all I wanted was to work alone, I had to get paired with Matthew fucking Gubler.

You know when people say God has his favourites? Yeah, well I certainly wasn't one of them.

Now, I didn’t necessarily hate Matthew Gubler. I didn't hate him for no reason, I didn't just wake up one day and decided I was just going to hate Matthew. There was a time where I actually liked him, I liked him more than I'd like to admit, deep down I still did. And I knew he liked me too, he did then at least. And we were good together, it was fun, we had a fun first couple of dates. To this day, they were the nicest dates I ever had, because he knew just how to make them special. I mean, when a guy takes you to the Neue Galerie here in New York and have nice long walk through Central Park, a walk filled with laughter and bliss, it has to be special, and in a weird way, he was special too. 

And as much as I wanted more than just two or three dates, I would've been perfectly fine if he had told me what he wanted from the start. If he had suddenly changed his mind about me, I would've accepted it, and I would've been able to live a happy life as his friend if that's what he wanted.

But he didn't, and instead I found out he had other interests. And I didn't hear it from him, I heard it from my friend. She didn't even need to tell me who it was, because the minute she told me where he took her, I knew. He took her to the same place he took me not even two weeks later and then acted like I was nothing the next time he saw me. And my god did that fucking hurt. It hurt me in a way I had never been hurt before, because I thought he was different, I was hoping he was. And convincing myself that I hated him was much easier than facing the fact that it hurt. And I never addressed it ever again, not that Matthew cared enough to actually talk about us, or, whatever we were. So instead we just made each other's existence miserable.

No, what I felt for Matthew wasn't hate, it was just the strong need to stay ten feet away from him so I wouldn't shove a five foot pole up his ass. That's how I felt about Matthew Gubler.

And now, here I was, aggressively shoving my laptop and notebook into my bag so I could leave the auditorium as quickly as possible, or at least quick enough to avoid Matthew, because knowing how he was, he would come straight to me to rub our partnership in my face. And I was right, because the minute we were dismissed, I spotted his lanky frame starting to come down from the top rows where he usually sat, and he was headed my way.

Screaming a big nope in my head, I strapped my bag over my shoulder and headed straight for the exit. I knew I couldn't avoid him forever, especially now but, I just needed a minute to mentally prepare myself to deal with him, a minute and probably a bottle of booze. But I didn't get either because the minute I was out those doors, I heard the unmistakable sound of his voice calling my name. 

Great.

"Y/N! Y/N wait!" I heard Matthew call out, followed my rushed footsteps coming from behind me.

"Hey, partner, I'm glad I caught you before you left. You weren't trying to run away from me were you?" He teased, throwing one of his particularly long arms over my shoulder.

If I had rolled my eyes any harder they probably would've gotten stuck there. I groaned, grabbing a hold of his arm and unwrapping it not so subtly before dropping it beside him, "first of all, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't touch me,  and second of all, just please go away, Matthew. I have a class I have to get to." I muttered, walking slightly faster and keeping my gaze forward, refusing to even look at him.

If there was something I've learned about Matthew in the two long years I've known him is that he usually goes away on his own if I don't give him the attention he wanted. I was hoping this was one of those times, because I was not in the mood to deal with him right now.

But alas, he didn't, he walked faster, staying beside me the whole time. "But I wasn't even doing anything. I was just saying hi." He defended, and I could just hear the smile on his face even when I wasn't even looking at him. 

I rolled my eyes harder, letting out a small breath through my lips, "what do you want Matthew?"

"When can we meet up? I already have an idea for our project and I think you're going to love it."

I chuckled sarcastically, finding his words actually hilarious, "If you came up with it I seriously doubt it." I sighed heavily, digging my teeth into my bottom lip before speaking, "tonight after I finish my shift, I guess. The quicker we can start, the quicker we can get it over with, soo..."

"Great. It's a date then, see you tonight, sweetheart." He hummed, ghosting his lips over my ear, his lips smacking loudly as he pretended to kiss it before he quickly took off in the other direction before I could even say anything.

This fucking guy.

~~~~~~~~~~

"I seriously do not understand how you fucking dated this guy, he's so obnoxious and annoying, how could anyone want to date someone like that." I complained to my friend and roommate Liz. I met her for a quick lunch break before my afternoon class and I just had to let her know how unhappy I was about my partnership with Matthew. She was amused to say the least.

"You make it sound like we dated for years, we dated for a few months, but he's not even that bad." she argued.

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest and leaned back into my seat with an unamused expression, just waiting for Liz to bury herself further up Matthew's ass. I always had the feeling she still had feelings for him, as much as she insisted it was just a meaningless relationship. And as much as they were just friends now, I just knew she wanted more with him. But it wasn't really my place to question that, not that it mattered to me anyway.

"He's a pretty cool and fun guy to be around, you just never gave him a chance. You've hated him ever since you met him for absolutely no reason, you never gave yourself the chance to get to know him better." Liz insisted, she always did. She always insisted Matthew was such a great guy I never gave the change to get to know. 

I had let out a heavy sigh in annoyance of her defense of Matthew before responding, "yeah well, it doesn't really matter since I'm being forced to anyway. And he's coming over tonight to start our project. Can't fucking wait."

I could've sworn I saw Liz's expression change into a mixture of surprise and something I could've easily confused with jealousy. She pursed her lips together and her eyes darted everywhere, like she was avoiding making any kind of eye contact with me.

But, it couldn't be jealousy? What even is there to be jealous of? Her and the whole world knew how I felt about Matthew, her out of all people knew it better than anyone.

"Oh, he is? Well, I'm not really going to be home tonight, I would've given you company so it wouldn't be so awkward with him." She frowned, she sounded disappointed, angry even. She looked uncomfortable, like she was deeply bothered by something, by something I said.

It was weird, I wasn't exactly sure what to say, I wasn't really sure why my news seemed to bother her as much as it did. It's not like I was going to sleep with Matthew while she was away or something. It didn't really matter though, I didn't have time to answer. Thank God.

"I'm sorry Liz but I have to go, I have class in like ten minutes." I excused myself, eating whatever was left on my plate in a matter of seconds before I stood up from my seat and gathered my belongings, "I'll see you later and wish me luck." I said quickly before taking off, not giving her the chance to respond.

~~~~~~~~~~

Usually, I pray for shifts to be over as soon as possible, for it to be slow so I can go home early. Today though, today I prayed for just the opposite. I was hoping the end of my shift wouldn't come, and when it did, that it would be too late and I would be able to cancel my meet up with Matthew.

But like I said, I wasn't one of God's favourites. And today out of all days, it was the slowest it has ever been and my shift ended rather quickly, quicker than I had hoped.

Groaning loudly at the evening that awaited me, I walked down the long halls of my floor, standing outside of my dorm room, dreading my evening already.

Figuring I should just get it over with, I went to get the key on the lock of my door, but noticed it was already unlocked. Liz probably forgot to lock the door, again. I rolled my eyes, shaking my head at my stupid roommate before turning the knob, opening the door. And my jaw dropped the minute I stepped into the room, not believing what my eyes saw.

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

"Matthew, what the fuck are you doing in my dorm and in my bed!? How did you even get in here?" I nearly screamed at the tall brunette that was carelessly laying on my bed with what I figured was one of my books in his hand.

Matthew turned his head towards me, a carefree and calm look plastered all over his face before his eyes went back to the pages in front of him., "oh, well, Liz let me in before she went to work. I hope you don't mind." He responded nonchalantly, continuing to flick through the pages of the book he had in his hand.

I stared at him with absolute disbelief and a loud scoff left my lips as I slightly pitched the bridge of my nose, trying not to throw the nearest object at his face, "yes, I do mind, in fact. You can't just come into somebody's dorm, lie on their bed and go through their stuff. Seriously dude, what is wrong with you?"

I just couldn't believe this guy. He just knew how to get on my nerves without even doing anything. 

Matthew, of course, couldn't have cared any less about whatever I was saying. And it wasn't that he wasn't listening, because he was, he had that stupid smile on his face that proved he was in fact listening to every word I was saying. He just didn't care, or he did, but he just liked getting on my nerves. He loved pushing every single one of my buttons until I snapped. And I had no idea why. I had no idea why he liked annoying me so much.

I exhaled heavily through my nose, closing my eyes slightly as I ran a hand through my hair exasperatedly, "I just can't fucking deal with you. I can't." I huffed, dropping my bag from my shoulder and walked to the opposite side of my room, facing away from him, not even wanting to look at his face.

"Tell me something, sweetheart," Matthew spoke, curiosity and a slight bit of amusement lingering on his words.

"What."

"Why do you hate me so much? You've hated me ever since I dated Liz back in our first year of college and I never truly understood why," he questioned with genuine curiosity, but there was also a certain playfulness in his voice. I opened my mouth to answer, still not facing him, and I was so ready to tell him off, god knows I've been wanting to but he cut me off. "Is it because I never slept with you?"

My eyes instantly widened at his words, a clearly offended scoff leaving my lips as I turned around to face him, "what? No, of course not, I—" my words got caught in my throat when I saw his tall frame towering over me, my eyes getting stuck on his chest before they traveled up to his face, and he was close. Extremely close. I swallowed thickly, feeling slightly cornered by his significantly taller frame so I stepped back, trying to create some kind of distance between us, but he simply followed me. "I, uhm, that's not why I don't like you, Matthew. I don't like you because you're an insensitive asshole and—"

"Oh, I know why you hate me," he cut me off again, slowly running his tongue to wet his perfectly pink lips. "You hate me because I dated Liz and not you."

His proclamation made my eyes grow even wider and my mouth hung open as I stammered for words. I wanted to disagree, I truly wanted to tell him that he was wrong. But honestly, he wasn't altogether wrong. I couldn't say some of my resentment didn't come from a deep rooted feeling of rejection. Because while most of that resentment came from that place of genuine hurt, my resentment was fueled by frustration and a shameless sense of envy.

But it was just easier to convince myself that I hated him than to admit that I still liked him and that it hurt me that he chose my friend over me.

But of course, I would never admit to that, especially not to him.

Avoiding eye contact, I looked down and shook my head, running my tongue to wet my suddenly dry lips, "of-of course not. Why—why would I care about your dating life? You can fuck whoever you want, I don't care." I wish I sounded more confident when I said that. But my stuttering words and my unsteady legs gave him exactly what he wanted.

And the bastard actually chuckled. He fucking chuckled.

"But you do, you do care. You care because you haven't stopped thinking about us and me since our first year." He grinned, digging his teeth into his perfect lips as he brought a hand to cup my face, lifting it so I had no other choice but to look at him.

And I was fucking gone.

It was like, all of that anger, frustration and hatred just vanished and instead turned into longing want. Want for him to just take me and do whatever he pleases with me. I was practically nothing in his hands, and I was nothing waiting for him to make me something. Waiting for him to make me his.

And that absolutely delighted the bastard. He found amusement in having the power I never allowed him to have. But right now, I just couldn't fight it.

I always knew that if I ever found myself alone and in this situation with Matthew Gubler, I would lose, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise.

And he knew that too.

"That's it, isn't? You want me to fuck you like I fucked your friend." He smirked, almost like he was proud to say it. And he stared, his usually soft amber eyes now brown and darkened with want.

Who the fuck was this guy and where did Matthew go? Matthew Gubler was the most awkward and disgraceful guy when it came to women. The poor guy couldn't even flirt his way out of a wet paper bag. And yet, somehow, here he was, with this new found confidence and the ability to turn me into a shaking and stuttering mess. Who fucking knew.

Once again, I stammered for words, I truly wanted to tell him otherwise. I wanted to scream in his face and push him away, but I couldn't. Not that I wanted to.

He took my lack of response as the answer he was looking for and brought his other hand to my waist, backing me up against the nearest wall, caging me between the hard surface behind me and his body, which right now, seemed so much bigger than mine.

My breathing instantly skyrocketed as I felt the same hand that was on my waist sneak its way past the ends of my dress and up my bare thighs, ones that shook like an earthquake as the pads of his fingers slowly rubbed the tense skin. Like he was testing the waters. Testing how well my body reacted to his touch.

And it wasn't subtle. At all.

"W-what—what are you doing?" I almost squealed, my voice practically betraying me.

"Oh? Well, I'm just giving you what you wanted. I'm giving you what you've been wanting for years." He stated so casually, like he had no idea what he was doing to me. And just as casually, he slowly ran a finger over the thin cotton fabric of my underwear, touching me, but definitely not in the way I needed to be touched.

I wished my body didn't betray me like it did though. I couldn't even hold back the breathy moan that escaped my lips when his fingers made contact with the thin material. But Matthew certainly loved the response I gave him.

"Because this is what you've been wanting, isn't it? You've been thinking about how my fingers would feel buried inside your little cunt. Or how good you would feel around my cock." He taunted, it was almost cynical just how easily those filthy words rolled off his usually reserved tongue. "I'm not gonna lie, I've thought about it too, you have no idea how many times I've thought about having your filthy mouth wrapped around me. Or how pretty you would look begging me for more." 

I opened my mouth to speak but my words instantly got caught in my throat when the sneaky bastard pulled the fabric to the side and dipped his fingers into the soaking mess that was my core.

And if there were any rational thoughts still hanging in my head, all of those just went straight out the window when another moan erupted from my throat and my head fell back into the wall behind me.

"See just how much easier things are when you just shut the fuck up and stop fighting so much?" He almost whispered, his lips ghosting over the skin on my neck as a lithe finger gathered my wetness and spread it over my clit.

Despite being a complete whimpering mess at that point, I managed to spit out a surprisingly harsh, "fuck you." 

It was a pretty convincing retort. One that didn't exactly have the effect I hoped for though.

I could feel him smirk into my neck as his lips left wet and sloppy kisses into the skin before he pulled back, just so he could see the look of utter want and frustration on my face.

"Hm, sorry sweetheart, I can't do that. I'm too busy trying to fuck you instead."

I swear to god, he was the biggest asshole I have ever met in my entire fucking life. But he was an asshole who immediately slipped two of his sinfully long fingers into my dripping core. I instantly choked on my own breath as he began working his fingers around the muscles, stroking the digits inside me at an agonizingly slow pace.

"Because that's what you want don't you sweetheart? You want to me to fuck you into that mattress until you can't keep your eyes open?" He continued, his filthy words making me pant like I ran for fucking miles. "I do too, trust me I do. And I will, I promise. But I want to make up for all of the lost time. Don't you?"

I wasn't even paying attention to whatever filthy proclamations were coming out of Matthew's mouth, with my eyes nearly closed, my mouth slightly open and my mind only focusing on his fingers working diligently inside me, how could I?

But Matthew was expecting an answer this time. Because I could feel his darkened eyes glare into my face and his fingers immediately stilled inside me. Earning a loud whine from me.

"I asked you a question, answer me."

It took me a minute to remember his question before I quickly nodded, "yes! Yes! Is that what you wanted to hear?" I nearly screamed at his face, my hands coming to clutch his shirt, needing something to relieve some tension.

"I want to hear you say it. Say it, tell me you want me." He demanded, his eyes locking with mine as he waited for what he wanted to hear.

He wanted me to beg, he wanted me to give up that control I never allowed him to have. And was I going to?

Absolutely.

I needed to.

"I want you, Matthew, I want you to take me and fuck me into that mattress until I can't walk straight. Please."

I guess that was the answer Matthew had been looking for because his fingers immediately began to work diligently inside me again, stroking the digits until he had me whimpering and begging for release.

It wasn't long before my head started to spin and stars began to blur my vision. Words were no longer an option at that point, nothing would come out, not even Matthew's name. All I could manage to let out were pathetic, strangled moans. But he could tell I was close, or I figured that much because his fingers only worked faster around my tightening walls, determined to finish me.

"C'mon sweetheart, come for me." he encouraged through gritted teeth as his fingers were anything but still inside me and his palm applied a crushing pressure into my front. And even when my eyes were half closed and my mind had turned into dust, I could see the look of utter determination on his face, his eyebrows were furrowed as his teeth dug into his perfectly plump lips. It was like his only focus was on driving me over the edge. And he succeeded.

The second his fingers curled, I was fucking gone. My orgasm hit me like a tidal wave. My eyes rolled into the back of my head as I cried out his name like a praise, my body nearly spasming against the wall. But his fingers didn't stop until my whole body shook to the point where my legs no longer supported my weight and I practically slid into the wall as I tried to catch my breath.

It was almost dizzying just how quickly Matthew withdrew his fingers from me and hoisted me up on his slim torso. He wasted absolutely no time in striding over to my bed across the room. My whole body collided with my bed so quickly and forcefully it knocked the air out of my chest.

Matthew was practically ripping away his clothes before I could even sit up or catch my breath. Like he had this urgency to do what I've been avoiding for the past two years. Like he needed to do it, right now, like something would happen before he got the chance to.

"Matthew—"

"Shut up, I've heard enough shit from you for the past two years, and I'm fucking tired of it." He almost growled, his usually soft voice coming out so low and dark it actually stroked fear in my heart. It was scary just how quickly his demeanor changed.

Matthew didn't really waste much time in discarding his clothes, he was down to only his boxers and was on top of me before I could even blink. He brought a hand to my chest and he pushed me down until my back was flat on the bed, but his hand stayed there, pinning me there as he hovered over me, trapping my significantly smaller body under his own.

He wasted no time in grabbing a hold of my dress and pulling it over my head. And I could've sworn I saw pure awe and infatuation flash through his eyes as they shamelessly eyed over my newly exposed skin. Come to think of it though, this was the first time I was this naked in front of him, and even then, I wasn't fully naked. Not yet anyway.

After a good minute, his eyes flickered back up to meet with mine, his previous look of awe quickly replaced by this feral look of want and pure desire. And I couldn't say it didn't excite me to see it.

He brought a hand to my face, running his smooth fingers over my face with a surprising amount of delicacy before he deep rooted them into my hair and slightly tilted my head back before he brought his face into mine, our lips crashing into a deep fervent kiss. I didn't realize we have never actually kissed. No wonder there was so much desperation and hunger within that kiss. We've been wanting this ever since we met, and ironically, I wanted it more.

His mouth was harsh and fervent against mine, his tongue wasting no time before it quickly slipped between my lips without much of a warning. His tongue explored every inch of my mouth and took as much control as he wanted to as he brought one of his hands to discard my brassiere, he struggled a bit at first but he managed to unhook it and discarded the flimsy material along with the rest of forgotten clothes. He pulled back to capture the image of my newly exposed skin. And he wasn't subtle, at all.

I almost felt intimidated under his deep and penetrating gaze as he shamelessly ogled my exposed body. I was completely exposed to him, completely vulnerable and right now, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted with me. And that scared me, it scared me just how quickly he took control over me after years of fighting against it.

With a hard swallow and a bob of his Adam's apple, Matthew slowly licked his lips, scraping his teeth against his slightly swollen bottom lip in a way that almost made me roll my eyes back into my head. But I didn't, instead I just locked eyes with him as he brought his face down and wrapped his lips around one of my breasts and his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud almost expertly, using one of his hands to toy with the other.

"O-oh fuck." I couldn't help but helplessly moan into the air as my hands found their way into his mop of brown curls. This reaction certainly delighted the bastard above me because I could feel his eyes burning into my face and his lips curving into a smirk around me before he slowly pulled back, latching on to my nipple as he pulled off it.

"You have a very filthy mouth, jeez." He tisked, slightly shaking his head disaprovingly but still had that fucking smirk of his.

Clearly, I wasn't amused, in the slightest, so his stupid comment earned him a nice and concise, "fuck you." 

But then again, it didn't have the effect I hoped for.

"Mhm, yeah, you're about to." He retorted one last time before bringing his face back up to mine, capturing me in a heated and messy kiss that only worked as distraction from the journey Matthew's hands took down south. I was only brought back to reality when I felt my underwear being ripped away and the cool air hitting me. And he was quick to pull down his own boxers and allowed his length to spring free. And I couldn't even play off the fact that I had to stare, my mouth slightly hanging open at the sight of him.

"You're so cute when you stare." He taunted, his words being fairly tame in contrast to his very dark and not innocent tone. The sound of his voice made me flicker my eyes to meet his face. Big mistake, because the borderline devious smirk on his face didn't help, at all. And it certainly didn't help when he positioned himself between my legs, rubbing himself on my already dripping heat.

"You do have condoms here, right?" He asked, but I wasn't paying attention, with him rubbing himself on my slick, I couldn't really pay much attention to anything. "I could just fuck you bareback, I'm clean, so I don't care. But it's up to you." He spoke again, slightly teasing my entrance with the tip of his length, hoping to actually get my attention, and I actually listened this time.

Biting my lip, I mentally cursed at my lack of sexual activity because it just so happened that I had no condoms. Matthew gave me an expectant look, not to pressure me, but just waiting impatiently. I knew if I told him to stop he would without a second thought, but he would just leave. I wasn't going to make that mistake twice.

"I'm clean too, just," I chewed on my bottom lip, already shuddering with anticipation as I hooked my legs around his slim torso, pulling him closer, "just take me, please just fucking take me already."

I didn't have to say it twice.

Without a second thought, he propped himself up on his arms and pressed his face against mine as he slammed into me in one swift motion. A strangled moan erupted from my throat as he buried himself to the hilt, stretching me open at once. And fuck, the feeling of him inside me was intoxicating, addicting even, I don't think I've ever felt like this before.

This was so fucking wrong. So wrong, so wrong to be fucking the guy my friend dated, so wrong to be fucking the guy I swore to everyone I hated. It was just wrong. So why the hell did it feel so right? It was so perfectly right the way our bodies felt together, like they simply belonged there, buried deeply within one another. I never wanted to stop feeling like this.

It was almost dizzying just how good he felt. And with the quick and fervent pace he set for himself right from the start, I knew I probably wouldn't last long. With my eyes rolled into my head, my open mouth and my body sprawled out on the bed as I tried to find something to hold on to, he probably had one hell of a view. And he enjoyed it too, because his thrusts only became harsher.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're so fucking beautiful," he cursed through gritted teeth, his hands holding my hips down with a vice like grip, making sure I couldn't move. And it wasn't for lack of trying. My body shook and shuddered like a fucking earthquake around him but he simply held me down as he continued.

"You feel so good too. I can't believe you made me wait two fucking years for this. Fuck." He nearly shouted, slamming into me with an insane amount of force and clenched his eyes shut, almost as if the thought made him angry, "two fucking years to take what was mine."

His. He called me his.

Fuck, I wish those filthy words didn't have such a strong effect on me, but boy did they make a number on me. I couldn't even hold back the guttural cry that erupted from my chest as I nodded feverishly, not really realizing what I was nodding to. 

"Yes! Fuck yes, Matthew, I'm yours!" I almost screamed, saying whatever incoherent thoughts flashed through my mind, letting the whole floor know just how much fun I was having and with whom. And with my mind and thoughts being too clouded by the feeling of him, I didn't even think about what those words entailed.

But it didn't matter because they served their purpose regardless. I wasn't expecting just how much the words actually affected him, because his hips began to falter, his thrusts becoming longer but impossibly deeper. And I could see how concentrated he was, with sweat forming on his forehead, his teeth digging into his bottom lip and his breath was hard and short, like this was a task he was determined to finish. He was determined to ruin me.

Letting out a guttural and nearly animalistic groan, Matthew grabbed a hold of my hips and raised them so that each thrust would make him bottom out inside of me, knowing just how close we both were to our release. "Yeah, that's right, sweetheart, let the whole floor know who's making you feel this good," he growled as he gave one last final but brutal thrust, digging his fingers into my hips so tight I just knew I would have bruises tomorrow as he held me down on him, "let the whole floor know you're mine."

And just like that, my orgasm crashed into me, Matthew's harsh words of ownership sending me into a euphoric state of pleasure, my lips chanting his name like a mantra and my walls tightening around him as he came deeply into me, my own name rolling off his tongue in a quiet praise. And the utter and absolute look of ecstasy on his face made up for the bruises I would have to hide for the next few days and for the two years we've made each other's life a living hell. Because right now, seeing that look of being completely fucked, I just wanted nothing more than to just stay like this.

The second we were no longer blinded by our highs, he fell forward, nearly crushing me under his weight as he struggled to get himself up. Yeah he looked fucked alright. Despite knowing damn well he could've easily rolled off me, he didn't, he simply rested his head on my chest and closed his eyes like he was just going to sleep there. A small smile made its way to my lips at the sight of his tousled brown curls on my chest, ignoring all logic, I ran my fingers through the messy locks, and they were in fact as soft as they always looked. 

Realizing just how bad this was for me, and just how vulnerable I actually looked, I smacked his forehead, successfully earning a glare from him once he lifted his head, looking dead at me with his now soft amber eyes.

"You're crushing me, you ass, get off." I breathed out and rolled my eyes, being too exhausted to try and get him off myself. And knowing just how easily he corrupted me, I didn't need another thing to make this harder.

"Okay, okay, jeez." Matthew rolled his eyes, letting his head back into my chest exhaustively and groaned tiredly into my chest before he gathered just enough strength to roll off me and collapsed beside me, his reddened and sweaty chest still rising and falling unevenly as he was still trying to steady his breathing. And I was trying, too. And we just stared, we stared at each other, saying nothing. There was nothing to be said. It was better that way.

After a long long while of silently staring at each other, he brought a hand to my face and rested it there, his thumb mindlessly rubbing over the warm skin of my cheek and he smiled, he simply smiled. And it felt good, it felt comforting, sweet even, it was a funny contrast after what he just did to me.

"So.. About our project.."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list:

Matthew Gray Gubler

All- @aberrant-annie @marauder-exe @vquezada84 @boiled-onionrings @writeronkeyboard @l0ve-0f-my-life @mariaramz @soederberg

OUaT in NYU-

So I'm starting a tag list for this fic because it will be a mini series so let me know if you'd like to be added to the once upon in NYU tag list

[allthefallendemons]

Change (Lucifer Morningstar x Reader)

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader One Shot

a/n: hi quick lil note! I’ll be publishing this on my ao3 as well (allthefallenangels) so yeah! I hope you enjoy :)

Content Warnings: Cussing, Angst

Brief Summary: After a damaging breakup with Lucifer, the reader experiences drastic changes to herself and her personality. Unsure if this is for her own greater good, Lucifer confronts her.

Word Count: 1.6k

PART 2

--------------------

It had been exactly six days, two hours, and twenty-three minutes since you were last in a relationship with Lucifer Morningstar. The two of you were keeping things steady, enjoying every moment you spent with one another. That was until Lucifer decided he was bored with you, finding his next exciting plaything. So, here you were, sitting on your couch and devouring your third tub of ice cream and watching Friends. "How does Ross Geller manage to keep a stable relationship when I can't even keep one going for five months," you grumbled quietly to yourself, getting up from the couch as your big baggy blanket hung over you. "God, I am LA's Ross Geller," you shrugged off the blanket, throwing the rest of your ice cream into the freezer. Shifting over from the fridge to your kitchen counter, you groaned softly. "I don't fucking need him."

grabbing your phone off of the counter and scouring the internet for ways to get over your ex. "Try changing the way you look to make you feel better.." letting out a quiet laugh, you shook your head. "change how?" until the perfect notification popped up on your phone.

A couple of days later, two huge packages arrived in the mail causing you to cheer "Change is good!" taking the two boxes inside and opening them up. Pulling out an eighty dollar makeup palette, you grinned. "Lucifer Morningstar, consider yourself erased from my life. I've got a new significant other." Opening the rest of the box, you began to apply your very first makeup look with the help of some youtube tutorial. Once that was finished, your eyes widened at how different you looked. Natural looks have always been your go-to style, something Lucifer always found unique about you. Opening the other box, the sharp smell of leather filled your nostrils. "Holy shit.." you murmured, taking out a beautiful red leather jacket. You slid the coat on, grinning as it shaped your curves and perfectly defined your body. "How's this for a change." you purred softly to yourself, nodding as you looked in the mirror.

You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket, your eyes widening as 'Scientist Ella' popped up on your screen, "Hey Els!! What's up?" already making your way to the door, you knew what she was about to say "I need you to come in, it's an all hands on deck situation in Homicide." she said quickly before hanging up. A small smirk slid across your features, this was the perfect reason to somehow stumble across Lucifer. You were sick of playing by the rules, being the silent follower. It was time to play by your own goddamn rules and not even Lucifer was going to tell you what to do.

Pulling up to the crime scene on your previously abandoned motorcycle, you slid off the bike with a confident grin. "Detective Espinosa!" you cried out, walking over to the previously sullen man. "What are the details on the current case?" you grabbed the file from him, choosing to ignore the shocked look that crossed his features. "Detective L/N, you- you look a little-" "different?" you grinned, your eyes scanning through the file. "Well, yeah! It's not a bad thing though, I.. I heard about what happened with Lucifer." your smile faltered as you glanced up at Daniel, choosing to stay silent. "He's a fucking prick." Dan muttered, looking you in the eyes "He does not deserve you, especially now." his gaze trailed up and down your body. You didn't know how to respond, clenching your fist as you tried to remain professional. "Look, Dan, I think it's flatter-"

"Detective?" an all too familiar voice alongside an all too familiar face entered your vision. "Ah... Lucifer." Your tone was quiet as you took a deep breath, avoiding looking him in the eyes. "I see that you were called in as well..." you trailed off, your chest growing heavy as the broken feeling that had briefly left returned in a rush. "Well, I am the consultant after all!" Lucifer grinned, trying to get you to look him in the eyes. "Yeah, well, whatever. The victim is John Wilkins, a recently retired accountant who just returned from a trip to Italy. His wife said they were looking for a change in pace, not realizing that this trip would be their last." you walked into the house, hearing Lucifer quickly pick up after you. You could feel his gaze burning into the back of your head, knowing he was dying for you to look at him. "Well, it seems that wasn't the only thing that changed," Lucifer muttered, a small smirk crossing your features as you heard his comment.

"Well, sometimes change is for the greater good." you shot back at him, kneeling beside the body and inspecting it. "Excuse me, you can't- Y/N?" Ella's eyes went wide as she looked at you "OMG! You look so different, I didn't even recognize you!" you let out a soft laugh, trying to look over the body. "You're not the only person who said that." you grinned as Ella knelt beside you. "Poor guy, it seems he suffered from lacerations across his main artery. It was a quick death, but the problem is that after he died, the assaulter cut off his right thumb..." Ella trailed off, as you nodded slowly "Perhaps for entry into something? A safe or maybe his phone?" you got up, bumping into Lucifer who was far too close for your own preference.

"Detective, do you mind if we talk?" he muttered into your ear, causing you to cock an eyebrow. Ella shrugged as you glanced over at her before looking back at Lucifer, "yeah, sure, whatever. But make it quick, I'm trying to work for once without being disturbed by your nuisances." you spat at him, trying not to recoil at just how cruel you were. Lucifer nodded to himself, guiding you to a nearby room and shutting the door behind him. "What is this? This isn't you, Detective. You're gentle and nurturing, you've been talking about being free of makeup for the longest time. You told me you preferred it that way, not wanting to spend money on makeup when you could save up for a cat. This new badass look isn't you, Detective. You're soft, you're caring, and you... This just isn't you, darling," you clenched your fist as he called you detective "Just fucking stop" you spat at him. Looking him in the eyes, you could feel all of the words you wanted to tell him bubble in your chest.

"Stop acting as if you care about me, stop calling me detective, and don't fucking act as if nothing happened. Like I was here the entire goddamn time and not gone for ten days. Like nothing fucking happened between us." you snarled, taking a deep breath. "I changed because I need to change, if I didn't do anything about me then I would still be at home. You broke my fucking heart, Lucifer. I am- I was in love with you." You shook your head, looking down at yourself. You could feel yourself get angrier by the minute as Lucifer walked closer to you "I broke up with you to protect you, Y/N. After seeing you get hurt so many times, I didn't want to see you in any more pain." He placed his hand on your shoulder, causing you to immediately swat it off. "don't fucking touch me." Lucifer shared a hurt look with you before doing a 180 turn, not wanting to look at your enraged features. "Look at how well that fucking turned out," you snapped at him, taking one final deep breath before walking over to the mirror. You could feel the barriers break as tears began to flood down your features. Your makeup smeared but you didn't care, you couldn't care, because if you did, it would mean that he won.

"I need you, Lucifer." your frail voice broke the silence, looking at him with big E/C eyes. You felt small in his presence, watching him with wide eyes as he cupped your face. "I didn't... I didn't think I could do this to you..." he murmured, wiping away the smeared makeup. "My dearest, Y/N," he leaned forward, completing the gap between his lips and your own. A wave of emotions crashed through you, trying to resist the urge to kiss him back. To collapse into his arms, tell him that all is forgiven, to be Lucifer's again. You broke away, shaking your head. "No. You don't get to do this," you choked out, pushing him off of you. "You should have talked to me, I didn't deserve this. You ghosted me, sent an 'I can't see you anymore' text and that was it. And to make things worse, you told Mazikeen to keep me out of Lux? Was it to spare me from seeing you all over other people?" you snarled, shaking your head and taking a deep breath. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you whimpered quietly. "I'm just another notch on the Lucifer Morningstar sex belt." you choked out softly.

You walked over to the door, grabbing the handle. "If you want to make things up to me, prove it. I can't- I can't get hurt again," your voice was deep with hurt and shame. "Tell Chloe to take over the case, I'm going home," you murmured, opening the door and with one swift movement, you were gone. Lucifer stared at the empty space where you once were. He stared up to the ceiling, shaking his head "is this what you wanted?" he growled, clenching his fist before punching a hole in the wall. He no longer cared for anything in the world, the only thing he knew was that he was going to get you back.

[sunassweetie]

Already Gone.

Pairing: Suna x Osamu (Osasuna)

Word Count: 5.4k 

Genre: Pain haha :):

Disclaimer: Underage Smoking don't @ me 

Warning: I wrote this after I read the galaxy is endless. But also like major trigger warnings for a lot of various things, just know I didn't hold back. 

When Osamu was younger, he absolutely, and indefinitely, hated the idea of holding onto nothing. The idea that a person alone could hold themselves upright, and power through life on their own. Maybe it was because he had been surrounded by the welcoming arms of his family his entire life, hell the man shared a womb with his twin. There was never a time where Osamu had felt alone, and he couldn’t understand the want to ignore those who held their hands out to help. He couldn’t fathom not having a support system, or someone to help him get back up when he fell off the tracks. 

There was always someone there. Until of course there wasn’t, and only then did Osamu realize what he had meant when he said, “The world is unforgiving, you’ll always be alone even when you’re surrounded by millions of people.” 

-:-

Osamu met Suna in his first year at Inarizaki, shuffling into the lowest class, his twin in tow next to him as they moved down the corridor. He could hear people whisper, even through the speakers of his earbuds, unsure of whether or not he liked the attention him and Atsumu had been receiving the moment they stepped foot onto the school grounds. 

Are those the miya twins? 

They’re so attractive! 

I want to ask Osamu out! 

Do you think they are going to try out for the volleyball team? 

Duh, just look at them. 

Osamu could already feel an immense amount of pressure settling upon shoulders as he slipped into his designated classroom, leaving Atsumu’s side as different classes separated them. Idly walking down the aisles until his name tag placed on the corner of the desk seat number popped into his vision, cueing him to take a seat. 

It's uncomfortable, he thinks, I didn’t miss this. His notebook, that he didn’t really plan on using, took up space at his desk along with the small pouch that only contained two pens, a pencil, and extra lead. Leaning back in his chair, his hand fishes down into his pocket to pull out his phone, turning up the volume, as he checks the time. 

He has five minutes till class starts, not that he cared in the slightest. The only thing currently on Osamus mind besides his first high school volleyball practice (after guaranteeing a spot on the team months prior during his middle school scouting days) he was mostly worried about what seasonings he could add to his next onigiri batch. 

There's a loud thump next to him, his head craning to see the commotion. He’s only met with a lanky boy, shoulders broader than those Dorito chips he once saw his old school mate aran eating, and eyes slanted in a bored glare. His earbuds dangle from the neck hole of his shirt, but his large hands quickly come to pull the buds into his ears, leaning forward on the desk  and putting his arms out in front of him to use as a pillow against the hard wood of the tables. Osamu couldn’t describe the way the boy rendered him speechless, eyes staring into the boy wondrously.  

“Do you need something,” The boy says to him, pulling him from his daze, blinking twice as both boys stare at each other. 

“Sorry,” Osamu fumbles, turning forwards in his chair. 

-:-

“So these are the new first years?” The coach says next to a second year whos hair falls in front of their faces, amber eyes weaving in between each of the younger boys lined against the court. 

“There's one missing.” His voice is automatic, cool even to hear. 

 Osamu isn’t paying attention to the talk, his mind blankly staring at the nets, wondering what type of position would he be most effective in. Perhaps Atsumu would play as setter, and he could work alongside his brother, the only harmony that was ever brought into their never ending sibling rivalry. 

“Your late first year,” The coach booms as someone stumbles into the gym. This catches Osamus thoughts, his eyes following the commotion as someone goes to stand next to Atsumu. 

“Sorry, a teacher held me back.” 

“On the first day?”

“I fell asleep during announcements.” 

He falls silent as the coach goes on, explaining how the team would work and what was going to be on the agenda for the upcoming scrimmage game they were suppose to be playing against another school. But Osamu finds it hard to concentrate, looking between the tall brunette and the court. 

-:- 

He couldn’t pinpoint the moment he knew, it wasn’t something he had ever realized before in his life, until the confusion of his emotions finally made him realize it. Over the year, he hadn’t just grown close to Suna as you would expect of friends. No, it was much more to Osamu then he would ever admit to Suna. 

The way his heart would beat out of his chest, or the slight sheen of sweat that would slip across his hands when he spoke to the other boy. Sometimes he hated the way he felt, wishing he could return to simpler times, when all he had to worry about was volleyball, and the next snide remark he’d throw Atsumu’s way. 

He wondered endlessly if Suna ever picked up on those miniscule hints he’d leave. Like when the team would go out for ramen after a tournament went right, and he’d always take the seat next to Suna. The same applies when traveling distances, it was an unspoken agreement that Suna and Osamu would always be paired together in the bus seats. Those little gestures when Osamu would pick a pack of Chuupets to hand to Suna at the most random times, “Saw ‘em when I was grabbing some stuff for the onigiris ‘m makin’.” Possibly when Suna forgot his team jacket on cold days, Osamu would give him his extra that made home in his locker specifically for this occasion to pop up. 

-:-

The first time that Osamu ever inhaled the hazy smoke into his lungs, he was sitting next to Suna. The dark sky towering over them, the pressure of nationals coming to cause a permanent crease in their brows. 

“Wanna hit,” He asks Osamu, as they swing back and forth in slow, repetitive motions on the empty playgrounds swings. 

“I’ve never smoked before,” Osamu admitted, somewhat shyly, embarrassed at his lack of experience in front of someone who he knew had been smoking for a while now. 

“It's up to you, no pressure,” Suna would say, taking another hit, the rolled joint limply dangling from his lips, smoke emitting from his mouth with each inhale and exhale. Osamu wants to, he wants to know the high that Suna had adored so much, the pleasure that Suna would succumb to with each passing moment.

“Teach me,” He was scared he sounded desperate, or enthusiastic. He tried his best to act as if it didn’t bother him, attempting to keep a cool façade in front of Suna. Suna looks at him with a smirk, eyes slanted and red as he hands the drug to Osamu. When Suna slips him the joint, their fingers brush by slowly, lingering momentarily. It takes a few tries for Osamu to stop coughing when he takes a hit, Suna laughing each time until he gets it. 

Osamu gets it now, the feeling Suna chases each time he comes to smoke under the stars, “Does it always feel this good?” 

“Most of the time, sometimes you might have a bad trip,” He says. 

Osamu looks at Suna, wondering when they hand ended up lying in the grass together, at the most a foot apart as they gazed up at the burning balls of fire littering the sky. He always has his earbuds in, and Osamu wonders what is always playing through them, what music accompanies the man in front of him. 

“What are ya listen’ to,” Osamu asks then. Suna looks at him, and without a word, is taking the other earbud and handing it to Osamu.

Cigarettes after Sex. 

He had been listening to Cigarettes after Sex. 

-:-  

At the beginning of their third year, Osamu caught Suna in the halls, long after the bells had dismissed everyone to return home, leaving the building empty of all noise, minus the creaks the old building would create every once in a while. 

He had been kept back by his teacher, insisting to go through his bag as he, as the teacher explained, “Reeked of weed.” However Osamu mentally praised himself for leaving his stuff at home and blaming the smell on a convenience store he had been in, addressing the owner who had been smoking that morning. Of course this was a lie, but the teacher was stupid enough to believe the pitiful lie, sending Osamu on his way out. 

He was propped against the wall, head tilted upright as he crossed his arms over his body. He looked peaceful there, with his earbuds more than likely playing some form of arctic monkeys or pearl jam. Maybe he was listening to the 1975 this time, or U2, it could have been any of them. The sunlight bounced against his complexion, soaking him in a warm bath of melanin. His hair had been slightly tousled, more than likely the job of himself constantly running his hands through his hair. 

“What are ya still doing’ here,” Osamu asked him when he had finally approached him after ogling at him for a moment down the hall. 

“I heard you got called back, figured I wait around to go to practice with you.” Suna says as if it were nothing at all. Osamu would never admit it, but it meant more to him then words would even be able to begin to describe. 

“Ya coulda gon’ to practice,” Osamu mumbles, walking in sync with Suna now. 

“Got me out of warm up laps anyways.” His words are mysterious, not that getting out of warm up laps wasn’t a common occurrence for Suna, but to wait for Osamu, it just wasn’t typical of Suna. 

It surprised Osamu even more, when the next week after finishing a test late he found Suna waiting for him in the corridor, and every time after that. 

 -:-

“Do you ever think about what's going to happen when we graduate?” Suna asks quietly next to Osamu. They had been sitting at the skate park together, smoking accumulating between the two of them, as they talk quietly though they are the only ones here under the dim lights scattered around. 

“We graduate in a week and you want to start pondering what's going to happen in life?” Osamu laughs, taking another hit, lying against the cold cement. Suna doesn't say anything, staring directly in front of him. Osamu wonders what's going on inside of his head right now, though he doesn’t feel like he has the right to know. 

“Yeah,” He hums, “ I guess you're right.” 

But his words have something hidden behind them, something that Osamu can’t describe, but it twinges a wave of fear through him. The words felt cold, distant. He wants to ask, he wants to ask so badly if he’s okay, if there's something he can do if he is not. But he bites his lip and he doesn’t ask. 

He knows Suna too well at this point from the countless nights spent smoking together, the morning practices and pairings in class. He’s been to his hand more time then you’d even be able to count. He knows every little thing, like when he starts complaining more than he normally does, it's because he’s running on an empty stomach. And if his hands start shaking, it's never because he’s cold or because he’s angry, it's because he hasn’t gotten his daily dose of caffeine, and when he goes silent, it's never because he's sad, it's simply because he has nothing left to say. He hates when people talk too much, and it irritates him when people start singing for no apparent reason other than to just sing. He loves chuupet, and volleyball, and alternative music, and smoking. And he doesn’t care about much of anything else. 

But right now, as his eyes hold back the emotions he’s suppressing within himself, Osamu can see right through it, he can see the pain lingering in his grey-yellow eyes. He knows Suna will lie to him, because Suna’s thoughts were Suna’s thoughts alone. 

-:-

Osamu hated the way that the feeling never changed. It never let up, it never ceased. It only grew until the roots had entangled so deeply he could feel it crawling into his lungs branching out in a painstakingly slow ache. Suffocating him like he was ten feet under, buried beneath the surface of platonic smiles and thoughtless gestures. 

Some days he wished he would just say it. Three words, thats all it would take to assimilate this stupid feeling he couldn’t control. Three, simple, little words that hefted the weight of the world. 

In ways, it made him angry. Why couldn’t he just say it, why couldn’t he just tell the boy how he had truly felt. It was a simple feeling, and when the rejection came it would bide Osamu the time to figure himself out, to learn how to breathe again. But maybe that was it, maybe the reason he feared telling him the hardened truth of his feelings is because he knew deep down the rejection would kill him. It would make him lose any ounce of control he had built up, it would make him see red. He had already been hanging by the shreds of thread, if he exploited himself in this way there was no going back, there was going to be no more midnight smoke sessions, no more trips to the convenience store after practice, no more movie nights, no more him. 

Osamu felt constricted by the material wrapped around his body, was it hot in here? It was just him, the pouring rain against the window fogging it with each burst of coldness proving it to just be him. With a sigh, he slips the material off of his body, and throws it to the other side of the room. He’ll pick it up later, he tells himself when it hits the wall with a thud and silently falls to the ground below. 

He knows he won’t though. The pile of laundry that had been piling for the last month tells him exactly that. 

-:-

It's sticky in here, Osamu thinks. 

Its stick, and its muddy, and its hollow. It's packed to the brim with people, it's loud and annoying and they won’t shut up over the obnoxious thumping of whatever trash was blaring through the speakers set up through the house. And it's lonely. He knows Kita and Aran are over in the corner, arguing over who is going to be the designated driver, and he sees Atsumu’s talking to some boy with a mask over his face, thought Osamu notes how the boy looks out of place and uncomfortable (he feels the way this boy looks, but he wouldn’t ever voice that outloud) and he sees Suna. 

He’s sprawled against the leather couch, there's two girls, one on each arm, stuck to him like pesky little leeches, taking hits from his joint with those agonizing high pitched laughs. They were fake, he could see it from a mile a way, and he was sure Suna could see the same, but Suna wasn’t going to complain, not when later he’d mingle his way upstairs with one, if not both of them. 

It hurt Osamu to even think about it, and now the kitchen counter seemed to be pressing into his back more evidently, more uncomfortable then it had been before. He moves quietly outside, ditching the red solo cup that had been placed in his left hand, somewhere now scattered with the array of cups lining the counter. 

His hands pressed into the rail against the outside patio overlooking the backyard. Not as many people were here this time, only the couple in the corner who resembled suction cups and the scattered druggies doing harsher things than Osamu would ever even think about trying. Osamu couldn’t explain what was happening to him right now. 

Why did that suffocating feeling seem deeper, rougher now. Why did it feel like everything was breaking down. He didn’t understand why water had been leaking from his eyes, or why his breathing had picked up in pace, or why the red bleeding feeling felt like it was going to overcome his entire being. He just wanted out, but he couldn’t move. Paralyzed into holding onto that rail, knuckles burning white as he leaned over the edge slightly, rocking back and forth on his heel. 

He just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to breathe again. 

“Osamu,” He can hear the voice, but he can't make it out. It's more like white noise, like that shitty music in the background, or those girls laughing in Suna’s lap just moments ago. 

“Osamu,” He hears it again, it's louder this time, but the panic begins to trickle deeper inside of him, the rocking becoming more violent. Shaking his body in waves of unstoppable tremors, more tears relentlessly streaming down his face. 

“Osamu, hey, listen to me,” There are more words this time. He can feel someone's hand on his shoulder, he could hear the fear in their voice, as he slips further and further down this rabbit hold he can't climb out of. The world shifts for a moment however, and he feels his body slipping, he can’t tell if he’s being moved, but he feels the tugging at his wrist. The voice is yelling again, the music is louder, and Osamu can’t remember how, but somehow, someway, when he snaps from his daze, from that suffocating world of constant agony, he’s in a dimly lit room. 

Suna’s in front of him, his eyes are wide, and he has each hand on Osamu’s shaking shoulders. Atsumu is behind him, nervously biting his lip with his arms crossed against his chest in a worried manner. Kita is at the door with a glass of water, and other members of the team are hanging on at the door frame. All eyes were on him, and it made him feel even more constricted than before. 

“Make them go away,” He whispers, pulling his legs to his body, only now realizing the fetal position he had taken accustomed to on the floor. 

“Everyone out,” Suna says while standing up, pushing even his twin out the door, grumbles and groans following suit, a ‘hes my brother i should make sure he’s okay’ and a ‘he doesn’t need you to see him like this right now, it will only make him feel worse now get out’ before the room goes silent with only the bass from below shaking the floors and Suna’s shuffling from the door back over to him. 

“Are you okay,” He quietly asks, unsure of how he can help Osamu right now. 

Osamu doesn’t know how to respond, so instead he stays silent, he stays so quiet for so long he hopes that Suna will eventually get bored and take his leave. But Suna never does, he never moves from the squatted position in front of Osamu, he never takes his hand away from Osamus shoulder, he never stops the little circles he rubbing into the top of Osamu’s shoulder. 

It only hurts Osamu more, because it only makes him realize how much more in love with Suna he truly is. 

-:- 

“We did it.” Suna mumbles, kicking his feet against the wood chips surrounding the child's swing set him and Osamu had been sitting at. The sun had long since fallen, and the breeze picked up in their black graduation robes, the suits underneath the flimsy fabric enough to keep them warm. It had only been a few hours since they had been taking a plethora of pictures with family, walking across that damned stage and shaking hands with a principle they had only met enough to count on one hand alone. 

“I guess we did,” Osamu mumbles. He thinks back to only a week ago, back at the skatepark, the smoke, the atmosphere, the words that had left sunas lips that night. “Do you ever think about what's going to happen when we graduate?” 

Its only now Osamu truly understands what Suna was getting at. With one foot out the door they had their entire lives ahead of them now, bracing for impact for the true glories and misfortunes life had to offer them.

“I’m not gonna pursue Volleyball in college,” Osamu blurts, speaking softly as he watches the star twinkle in the sky. He had been thinking long and hard about this decision, fearing what the consequences may be of quitting a sport, he not only loved, but was good at. He can feel Suna’s head turn toward him. 

“Really?” 

Osamu stays quiet for a moment, “I love volleyball, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think I like it as much as ‘tsumu does, and it just doesn’t feel like my calling.” 

“What feels like your calling then?” Suna is quiet. 

“Not sure yet, but I do love food. Maybe I’ll travel, learn different food cuisines, or I’ll start my own shop, who knows where life will take me.” 

Suna goes quiet, his eyes trained down into his laps as each finger picks at the other, his chunky silver rings twirling and twisting with each fumble, “What if life won’t take you anywhere.” 

It was Osamu’s turn to snap his head in the direction of the brunette, curiosity laced in his emotions. Suna won’t look up at him, instead focusing still on his rings, playing with them gently, in particular the snake slithering up his middle finger, whose emerald eyes glare up at him.

“What do ya mean by that.” 

“What if...what if life doesn’t have anything planned for you, what if you're just there to take up space.” 

“Everyone is here fer a reason Suna. Everyone has a purpose, a cause, an effect. One day, yer gonna find yer life heading in directions ya love, and directions ya hate. But there’s always gonna to be a path waiting for ya, there’s always gonna to be somebody there too, to keep ya standing, to keep ya breathing,” Osamu was sure these were the wisest words to ever push past his lips. 

Sunas eyes bore into his now, they’re still on the swings, not even the gusts of wind can move them at this moment. Suna breathes out for a moment before taking off his snake ring, and gently opens up Osamu’s fingers before placing it in his hand. 

“The world is unforgiving, you’ll always be alone even when you’re surrounded by millions of people.” 

-:- 

It was exactly 2:46 am when Osamu had been disrupted from his sleep, pulled out of bed by the crying sounds of his phone, blaring out that ringtone he wished he could just smash at the wall. 

It was exactly 2:46 am when he heard Suna’s shaky heavy breath on the other line. 

It was exactly 2:47 am when he was running out the door, his shoes half on, his keys in one hand, his brother yelling from down the hall. 

It was 2:59 am by the time he had reached Suna’s front door, smashing through it at the speed of light. 

It was 3:00 Am by the time Osamu found him, mopped up by his own saliva, foam trickling from his mouth, his body convulsing in panic rages surrounded by pools of blood seeping from his wrists and pills sprawled across the floor. 

-:- 

Osamu hated hospitals. He hated the smell of antiseptics that flowed down each hall, and the way people walked in almost pure silence. He hated the way he would see people crumble on their knees the moment the doctor came out with that look on his face. He hated that hospitals go be the center of positivity and the bane of someone's worst nightmare at the same time. 

“How did we not know he wer’ gonna do something’ like this,” He hears from next to him, and with the lull of his head and the most deadpan expression Osamu mutters, “Shut up ‘tsumu.” 

And the silence overtakes them, and the entire waiting room is filled with people. So many people Osamu knew from school, and others from when he’d go over to Suna’s house after school. The hardest, perhaps in Osamus opinion, was Suna’s little sister. Her hair was in two separate braids, flicked up in different directions as her eyes were puffed out in an angry red color, glossed over by the tears that had long ago stopped falling. She hadn’t released her bottom lip from the grip her teeth had on it, her hands moving in her lap, similar to the way Suna’s had once fumbled. 

It chokes Osamu, suffocating him, but this time it's not because of the emotions he felt towards Suna. This time it was at the numbness that began to over encumber him leaving him void of any expression. 

-:- 

He couldn’t leave the chair at Suna’s beside when no one else was in the room, he always held his hand too then, even if the wires got in the way of him holding his brittle cold hands. The snake wrapped around his index finger now, curled up against the pale flesh Suna had silently offered to him. 

He was afraid he wasn’t going to wake up. Osamu knew this situation too well, he knew he would drown in this. It was his fault, wasn’t it. He should have picked up on the cues that night, he should have picked up on the cues the week before, or the months before that. He should have known when it started, instead, he was selfish. Instead he only focused on himself, on the feelings he tried to hide from the male next to him. If only he admitted his feelings, if only he had seen the bigger picture, maybe he would have seen Suna. 

Osamu hadn’t cried yet, though he had probably been the closest to Suna, he hadn’t let a tear slip yet, afraid that if he were too, then he would never stop. He brings Suna’s limp hand to his lips, leaving his lips to gently lay a kiss at the spot where Suna’s thumb and index finger were conjoined. 

“Come back to me Suna, I have something to tell you.” 

-:- 

He never missed a day, every single morning he embedded it into his routine to check in on Suna during the following months. He was always still breathing, but never awake. His heart always pumping, but his brain shut off. 

He just wanted Suna to wake up, to hold his hand instead of the other way around, he wanted Suna to know the truth, he wanted to hold him, and this time he would never let him slip. It was a promise Osamu always wanted to make to him. 

“I’ll be back later tonight, you’re mom asked me to drop some things off at your house for her, don’t wait up,” he tries to joke, but it doesn’t ease the feeling inside of him. He looks at the motionless body, his eyes were trained on his lips. Osamu had always wondered what they felt like, but he was sure between the stone cold air of the hospital and the lack of vanilla Chapstick Osamu always saw peeking out of Suna’s bag, that right now his lips would feel bitterly chapped.

It doesn’t stop him from leaning in, to place his own against Suna, just slightly away from his lip however, and onto the silky smooth skin that lie at Suna’s cheek. 

He’d kiss him for real when he woke up. 

-:-

“The key is under the mat, Osamu thank you so much for doing this, I just...I can’t go into his room right now, I haven’t been able to for months,” Suna’s mothers voice was strained, cutting in and out from the sobs she was trying her best to hold back. 

“It’s okay Mrs. Rintarou, I’m glad to help.” 

And the line goes dead as Osamu hangs up with a simple click to the red button as his hand slips under the welcome mat to find the spare key awaiting him. He pushes the key in and the stagnant air hits him like a brick as he steps through the doorway, discarding his shoes at the front entryway. He looks down the hall, his memories flashing back to that moment, as if it were all in slow motion, like it had been happening all over again. 

Osamu shakes his head as he slowly steps down the hall, making a left before the sealed off bathroom, and walking into the room he hoped he’d never have to step into again. If he thought the front door had been a pile of bricks, then his room had to be the cement burning him into the earth. 

“Dude shut up, it was one time.” Suna laughs, throwing pieces of the popcorn from the round bowl in his arms at Osamu. 

“Oh yeah, just once,” He mimics in a sarcastic tone, throwing the popcorn back at Suna. Suna rolls his eyes and goes back to scrolling aimlessly at his phone. Osamu was lying stomach down on the floor, and angled that if Suna looked over, he would absolutely see the younger miya twin staring up at him, but how could he not when the sun was glowing so effortlessly against the boys skin. 

He could trace every curve along Suna’s defined face in this lighting, burning this image of him into the back of his skull. 

Osamu blinks, reality setting in around him that he now stood in the room alone, the basket of clothes Suna had arrived at the hospital now lying in the plastic bag, taking up needless space inside of his hospital room.  He just needed to set it in the corner and leave, that was his only job, nothing more, nothing less. 

But Osamu’s eyes flicker too far to the right, and an envelope neatly placed in the center of Suna’s desk fills his vision. He knows what it is, that's obvious enough from the placement of the paper. When his legs wander to the table, he wishes he had just turned on his heel and left right then. But when his vision is evoked with the letting of Suna’s familiar scribble and his name adoring the empty space of the white canvas, Osamu loses his control to stay strong, and the first tear falls. The second when his hands unseal the back of the envelope, the third when he pulls the letter from the pouch, and the fourth when he reads 

Dear Osamu.

Its not your fault. 

And I love you too, even though I should have said it allowed. 

I love you so dearly.

I’ve lost my fight, but please don’t lose yours. 

Suna. 

He didn’t know when the showers from his eyes began as he collapsed down to the floor, holding the letter closely to his chest as he screams out. For the first time in months, he screams out the pain blocking him, the pain consuming him. 

He doesn’t even have the time to process this information, because that ringtone flares up again, just like it had done that night. 

“H-hello?” Osamu says as he picks up, unsure of the caller id, he couldn't care to look at this point. 

“He woke up Sumu. He’s awake.” 

And just like his legs carried him out of the house that night, he’s sprint full force to his car and sliding into the driver's seat, turning the key into the ignition and speeding down the road recklessly past the stop sign. 

He should have stopped. 

-:- 

“Where’s Osamu,” Suna croaks out, it's the first thing he’s said, the vision of Osamu bleakly pulling into his memory. 

“He’s on his way, he’ll be here any minute,” Suna’s mother says, with joyous tears in her eyes. 

-:- 

“Where’s Osamu.” 

“There was an accident.” 

-:- 

Suna was wrapped in the navy blue sweater Osamu had given to him, tightly secure in the knitted fabric as his white collar shirt peeked out from the bottom of it, contrasting against his dark jeans. His long legs were wrapped up to his chest, his head softly laying in between his knees. 

“It would have been easier if I couldn’t remember you,” he whispers, “You were like a drug you know. You were heaven to have, a high I’ll never get back now that you're gone.” 

He stares at the stone in the grass carefully watching the flowers he had set up hours ago sway with the wind, “We’d probably be smoking right now, except we’d be closer. Sometimes I imagine the way it would feel to have you laid across my lap.” 

Suna can feel the tears now, “I wish I never woke up, I wish I had gone that night, you’d still be here, and it should have gone the way it was supposed to.” 

He can almost hear his words in the back of his mind. Everyone has a purpose, a cause, an effect. He sniffles slightly as he brushes his finger past his nose with his sweater hanging past his fingers, “You would have told me otherwise...wouldn’t you Osamu.” 

[jizemderler]

What could never be {Kim Namjoon} Pt 2

A/N: Y’all wanted, I delivered hdjdb obv SMUT because we nasty for namjoon

Part 1

sorry i had to use this after all that talk about this gif lolol

His hands were trailing down the sides of your body and he enjoyed the way you were squirming under him. He placed wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone and sucked at your sensitive spot. “Does it feel good?” he asked in a hushed voice and you nodded without opening your eyes. “Yes,” you answered while brushing your fingers through his hair to tuck lightly at his roots which drew a low groan from his throat. You arched your back at that sound and you felt him smile against your bare skin.

You opened your eyes in panic when you heard something crash and found yourself in your dark empty bedroom. You were breathing heavily and sighed while tugging at your own hair. “Fuck...” you cursed under your breath and turned to switch the light next to your bed on. As soon as you did that you saw your cat looking at you with big eyes sitting next to a broken plant. “I’m not even allowed to dream about him, huh?” you asked your cat and she meowed as a response. “I’ll clean that up in the morning. Just don’t step in it,” you said frustrated and switched the light back off and threw yourself back into bed. The next day would be interesting.

***

You hadn’t seen him the whole day because you kept postponing his appointment with you. You thought the later the better since you would maybe forget about the dream. Which was nonsense honestly, because as soon as you saw him all the feelings from the dream came rushing back and you could literally feel his touch against your skin. “Hi!” he greeted you and embraced you in a tight hug as always but today it was unbearable for you. “Let´s go.” you said and pulled away and turned your back on him to walk into the dressing room. 

Trying on new outfits has been a hassle since what happened. One of you always started teasing and both of you were too stubborn to stop. So you would end up teasing each other the whole session and it was eating away at your desires and needs. It’s been two hours since you started dressing him and you were on your sixth outfit when he reached his limit. You were fixing his fixing the waist of his pants and had your index and middle finger tucked in at the front while applying the needle at the right point so you could stitch it later. He suddenly became really quiet and made you look up.

“What? Is something bothering you?” you said while giving his pants a closer look and brushing your hands down his sides of his leg. “Is it too snug? I can rearrange...” you were saying while checking the waist and he suddenly grabbed both of your hands and made you look back up. “Shit, did I pick you with the needle? Sorry.” you apologized and tried to free your hands to pull out the last needle you had placed but he didn’t let go and pulled you up on your feet. He was holding your wrists close to his chest so that your faces were only inches apart. “Namjoon...” you said trying to free yourself but he was not having it. “I’m really trying hard to respect your choice but you’re making it really hard...no pun intended,” he said and your eyes widened as you realized what he was joking about so you pushed him away while the blood rushed to your cheeks. “I’m just doing my job,” you said grabbing a jacket and reaching it out to him. “Put it on,” you said and he took it from you with a tiny smile on his face. After he put it on you crossed your arms in front of your chest and glared at him. It was unfair that he was allowed to look this good. “Are you going to behave or do we have to take a break?” you said, your cheeks still rosy. “Did these past three months really not change your mind?” he asked you and you could hear the desperation in his voice. “No.” you answered quickly and went back to work. If only he knew what you were dreaming about.

***

The situation became unbearable when you two got stuck on a shoot waiting for the artists in front of you to finish. You’d been in the dressing room for two hours now - Namjoon all glammed up waiting for his turn. He kept stealing glances of you while roaming around the dressing room. You were wearing snug jeans and a simple blouse on top but your simplicity made you even more attractive to him. He was trying to restrain himself but since the day he learned about your divorce, he felt like there was nothing holding him back anymore, besides your job. And he respected that but he kept stealing little ‘accidental’ touches which was the only thing that kept him going. But right now was just torture. You’ve never been alone in one room with nothing to do for this long. You two always came together to work and never had time to act on the tension in the room. But right now was different. Something inside of him snapped when you started putting your hair in a ponytail, exposing your neck and shoulders to him.

That’s when he stood up and took you by surprise. He turned you around by your shoulder placed his hand against the crook of your neck and started kissing you passionately. Instinctively you let out an audible sigh because your body was aching for this for months now. He smiled against your lips as soon as you heard that. You came to your senses fast enough and tried to push him away but he had locked you in place. “Just this once.” he breathed against your lips when you both parted to take in some air and your heart and desires took over your ability to think straight. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he placed his hands on your bottom to pick you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist in one swift motion and he carried you over to the desk while plastering your neck and collarbone with kisses. “Joon...” you sighed and you could feel him tense up under you. “I dreamed about this so many times,” he whispered against you between a kiss and a shiver of arousal went down your spine which made you press yourself closer to him. You brushed your fingers through his hair and tucked at his roots to make him look up at you, ruining his styled hair but none of you cared. He smiled wholeheartedly and you leaned in to kiss him. Both of you were fighting for dominance while he let his hands glide under your blouse to explore your soft skin. You had goosebumps as soon as he touched sensitive places and you sighed once more into the kiss. You bit his lip gently and tucked at it in order to get a reaction from him and with success. He let out a low groan and made you smile triumphantly. You were about to grind on him teasingly to double his reaction when a knock echoed through the room and both of you jumped apart. He fixed his hair immediately while you hid behind the curtain which was for changing clothes.

“We’re ready for you in five!” the staff member said through the door when she didn’t get an answer to come in. “I’ll be there!” Namjoon called back playing it off as if he wasn’t going down your throat seconds ago. Footsteps that were getting further away told you that she left. When he pulled away the curtain he found you staring at your feet. “Nothing happened. She didn’t see,” he said trying to calm you but you felt horrible. Horrible for having to hide like a rat. “You have to go.” you said while pushing past him,” I’ll call the visagist to fix your hair and makeup.”

“Y/N, please...” he tried to talk to you but you already went out the door.

***

You didn’t show up to work for two weeks and Namjoon was getting frustrated. No one knew where you were or no one would tell him. He tried calling and texting you but that was also a dead end. So you can imagine his surprise when you appeared on his doorstep on the weekend. His doorbell rang and he was confused as in who was at the door because he wasn’t expecting anyone. He was even more confused when he opened the door and you jumped at him to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He caught you with his large hands and stumbled a few steps back before regaining a steady position. “Y/N, what...” he started to ask but stopped when you pulled away to look at him. Your hands were on his neck, your thumbs brushing over his earlobes gently. “I’m back.” you beamed at him and his lips tucked upwards seeing how happy you were. “I can see that.” he smiled back at you and you loosened your legs to signalize him to let you down. He got it immediately and you stood in front of him and took out a stack of paper out of your bag and held it in front of his face. “I quit!” you told him with beaming eyes and his mood changed immediately. “You did what?” he asked and furrowed his brows, quilt creeping up in his stomach.

“I quit. I’m not your stylist anymore,” you explained and he shook his head while taking the papers out of your hand. “Why would you do that?” he asked while examining the papers. “Nothing´s holding me back anymore,” you said freely and he wanted to yell some sense into you. “No. I’m not allowing this. This is stupid. I’m talking to the manager.” he riled himself up and tried to walk past you but you grabbed his arm to stop him. “Calm down lover boy. I also got a new job,” you said pulling the cond stack of papers out of your bag and held it up. “I’m now part of the management team in the styling department. I’m playing with the big dogs now.” you smiled at him and he looked dumbfounded. “I’ve been thinking about applying for this job over two years now but I was always too scared thinking that I won’t make it. I’m qualified for the job for years now but you know...now that someone was pushing me to my limits I gathered my shit together and applied. And I got it!” you said jumping up and down celebrating it. He took a look at the new papers in your hands and you smiled sheepishly. “And there is no part in that saying I can’t date anyone in the company,” you said leaning into his ear while he flipped through the contract. His head snapped up and he looked into your eyes, his gaze totally changed.

“So I think about dating one of the boys or maybe staff. What do you...” you wanted to tease him but he interrupted you. “Shut up,” he growled and kissed you right then and there. You took it to the bedroom rather quickly. You were lying underneath him and his hands were trailing down the sides of your body and he enjoyed the way you were squirming under him. He placed wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone and sucked at your sensitive spot. “Does it feel good?” he asked in a hushed voice and you froze and covered your mouth to stop yourself from nervously laughing. “What? Did I do something?” he asked and looked for any type of discomfort in your eyes but only found amusement and...embarrassment? “What?” he asked again now doubting himself. You cupped his face to stop him from overthinking. “You’re literally the man of my dreams,” you said with a big smile on your face thinking back to your dream and kissed him. When he got what you were saying he pulled away and looked at you with raised eyebrows. “Wait you dreamt of me?” he asked and your cheeks flushed immediately. You nodded and avoided looking into his eyes. “Joon...?” you asked and made him lookup. “Are you sure about this?... I mean, I was married once,” you said now really insecure about this. “I don´t care. Just don´t mention him to me,” he assured you and changed the subject to lift the mood. “What was I doing in your dream exactly?” he asked while pulling down your pants and throwing it in a corner. He started kissing your belly down to your panty line. “Joon..” you moaned and he smiled against you. You arched your back the sensation and showed him how eager you were for his touch. He slipped his fingers in between your thighs and moved them up slowly just stopping close to your core, not touching it. You growled at his teasing and pulled him up just to flip him over and sit on top of him. “I´m not in the mood for teasing Namjoon.” you warned him while grinding against his hardening member. He placed his hands on your hips and guided you along. He closed his eyes end leaned his head back giving you full access to his throat. You leaned down and placed kisses along his neck leaving marks at places you knew the make up artist had to cover. You started grinding harder against him and the friction made him moan lustfully while digging his fingers deeper into your flesh. “Ugh...I-..” he started but he couldn´t finish because your movements made it hard for him to concentrate. The sight of him yearning for your touch, bucking his hips up to meet your core, making your need to feel him grow inside of your lower stomach. “I need you.”, you moaned into his ear,”buried deep inside of me.”

As soon as you said that he let out a guttural moan and flipped you so you were lying under him again. He took off his pants along with his boxers and was in front of you in his full glory. He leaned back down and placed his lips on yours. The kiss was passionate yet so loving that it made your heart swell. He traced his tongue along your bottom lip and your lips parted allowing him entrance to explore. While he was distracted you wrapped your hands around his length and started stroking him up and down. As expected you caught him by surprise and he broke the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck. You kissed his shoulder while starting to apply light pressure and he moaned out your name. He started thrusting slowly into your hand and when you felt him shiver in need you stopped to take off your panties. You were dripping wet when he aligned himself at your core. He looked into your eyes and pushed back a few strands of hair. He kissed your forehead, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips while pushing the tip of his cock in. Your grip on his shoulders tightened as you felt him stretch you and you moaned in pleasure while furrowing your brows. “You good?” he asked, moving carefully and left butterfly kisses on your closed eyes. You nodded in consent and he pushed in deeper filling you up completely. Both of you were moaning in pleasure and it was almost unbearable. Namjoon was breathing heavily while trying to restrain himself from pounding into you, trying to give you time to adjust. When you felt the light stinging turn into absolute pleasure you wrapped your legs around his waist and lift your head up to his ear. “Fuck me, Namjoon.” you plead your lips brushing over his ear which turned him on even more. He didn´t need to hear that twice so he started pounding into you at a steady pace. You gasp at the sensation and hold onto his arms which feel so good under your touch. You move one hand up to his ear and stroke it gently. Which makes him close his eyes and his breath catches in his throat. You realized that his ear was a soft spot earlier and you were happy to get a reaction out of him. 

“You feel so good.” he moaned in between breaths and you arched your back to give him better access at your sweet spot. He hit it a couple of times and suddenly you were really close to the edge. “Right there Namu. Right there,” you begged and moved your hips up to meet his. When he slipped his hand between your folds to rub your clit, it didn´t take long for you to clench around him and cum from all the sensations added together. You desperately moaned his name loud and clear while riding out your high and his pounds started getting sloppy when he heard his name fall from your lips in such a beautiful way. “I´m so close.” he moaned and buried his face in your neck again and you held him while caressing his back. “Come for me baby.” you cooed and he let out a guttural moan while releasing inside of you. His lower abdomen twitching and his arm muscles tensing up. You left soft kisses here and there while he rode out his high and was panting your name. 

After both of you came down from your highs you snuggled into his side and he wrapped an arm around you. He placed a loving kiss on top of your head and breathed in your scent. He still couldn´t believe you were finally his. “Uh..Y/N?” he asked sounding very shy suddenly as if he wasn´t fucking you senseless minutes ago. “Yeah?” you answered while tracing your fingers along his abs. “I know we just...did that, but...are you in for a relationship with me?” he asked while holding a hand up and sounded like a little kid asking for a lollypop. You chuckled at his question and gave him a high five which left him baffled. “Of course. I wouldn´t have done this if I weren´t” you smiled up at him but he was looking at his hand opening and closing it constantly trying to understand why you gave him a high-five. “I was trying to hold your hand but I guess that works too,” he said sounding totally confused and made you laugh. You held his hand with one hand and cupped his face with the other smiling at him broadly. “You´re one of a kind Kim Namjoon.” you said affectionately and he smiled back lovingly.

***

It´s been a week since that night and you invited the guys over to dinner to let them know, which kind of backfired.

“So you left us just to start a relationship with Namjoon?” Jin asked and looked at you in disbelief. “You stole her from us?!” Taehyung said and looked unbelievably hurt. “I hate the new stylist, he’s really rough.” Hobi pouted and made you chuckle. “Oh come on. You didn’t like me in the beginning either. Give him some time to adjust.” you suggested and they shook their heads like little kids. “You need to come back. You’ll find someone better than Namjoon. I swear I will never complain about the weight of the jackets!” Taehyung begged and earned a glare from Namjoon.

“That’s sweet of you Tae. I’m still working at the company, just not directly with you guys. I deal with the brands directly now.” you tried to explain but Yoongi had another interpretation of that. “So you earn more money now. You left us for money?”

“Hyung.” Namjoon warned him but you put your hand on his thigh to calm him down. “No, as Namjoon also knows: My carrier is my most valued thing and this was just the right step,” you explained and Jungkook looked at you like a puppy. “I still don’t like the new guy.”

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Ninety Five

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

October 13th, 2000

Remy resisted the urge to bang his head against the desk in boredom. His professor hated him, he knew all of this, and he couldn’t wait to get out of here so he could just chill in his dorm room, or maybe eat. He needed a break.

“Mister Picani?” the professor cut through his thoughts.

“Hm?” Remy asked, looking back to the front.

“Do you have the answer?” the professor asked impatiently.

“Depends on the question,” Remy replied.

The kids laughed, and the professor’s lips thinned into a line. “See me after class,” he said.

Remy sighed as the professor moved on. Bored and now in trouble, too.

Great.

  January 20th, 2004

Remy did his best to give a stern glance to himself in the mirror, but only wound up wincing as he saw what he looked like. He was wearing a nice suit, complete with one of Emile’s non-cartoon-themed ties. He didn’t know exactly what he was going to do today, but this look wasn’t cutting it.

“How you doing, Rem?” Emile asked from the edge of the bedroom.

“I feel like a monkey in a suit,” Remy said, gripping the ceramic counter and snarling at his reflection. “I don’t want to go into the school looking like this.”

“You know, you don’t have to impress your old business professor,” Emile pointed out. “Just because he asked you to answer some questions from the up-and-coming business students doesn’t mean that you have to deal with,” Emile gestured vaguely to Remy’s reflection. “This.”

Remy undid the tie and sighed. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “But can I really go in there with a blouse and slacks and expect to be taken seriously?”

Emile shrugged. “If you walk in there with confidence, probably,” he said. “Besides, most of the business students already look at you like you’re a celebrity. You’ve got this.”

Remy sighed and nodded, pulling the tie out of his collar. “You know what? You’re right. I’ll save the suits for weddings,” he said decisively. He stripped as he exited the bathroom, and was in nothing but his briefs by the time he went to the closet. He pulled out a pair of slacks that made him feel more cute than sophisticated, and pulled out that wild diagonal light-blue-and-purple blouse with all the ruffles. “Now this... this I can get behind.”

Emile snickered as Remy slid the blouse down his arms. “What?” Remy asked with an embarrassed blush.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Emile rushed to assure. “I just find it funny that your business professor is going to have to walk you into a classroom full of eager students, you dressed up in a blouse and those slacks that make your butt look fabulous, and admit that he failed to teach you and you still became successful.”

Remy absorbed that information, before offering Emile a shy grin. “Okay, you’re right, that’s kinda funny,” he admitted.

Emile grinned. “See? You’re gonna kill it, Rem. I know you, and I know enough about that class from you ranting to me about it when we were freshmen.”

“If you say so...” Remy said with a little shrug. “I don’t know about killing it, but I’m definitely going to make that professor red in the face, and that makes it all worth it.”

Emile kissed Remy’s cheek and helped him with the last button on the blouse, before leaving Remy to pull up the slacks. “Ready for breakfast?” he asked.

Remy nodded, and the two of them went downstairs, Emile cooking up the eggs while Remy made the toast, because Remy didn’t want to get any grease splatter on his nice blouse. They ate in the kitchen standing up, just like old times in their apartment, and Remy hummed. “You’re getting better at eggs, Emile, I gotta admit,” he said with a little grin.

“Thank you, I do try,” he said. “It’s not fair to make you make all the meals we have, after all, not with your job.”

Remy shrugged. “I don’t mind most days, but I see your point,” he allowed.

They went to the car and Remy fidgeted only a little. He was admittedly, worried. He was an out and proud gay man at the shop, but now? He wasn’t going to the shop, he was going to a college classroom full of freshmen, who weren’t as open and exposed to things like the LGBT community if they didn’t go looking for that. And it was a little scary, thinking that today, he was gonna have to show to these freshmen what gay and successful looked like. Whether he wanted to be or not, he was going to be making an impression on these kids.

“Hey, you’re gonna do great, Rem,” Emile reassured.

“I know,” Remy groaned. “It just...it sucks that I have to make an impression on these kids, while barely being more than a kid myself.”

“Yeah,” Emile agreed. “I think if this becomes a regular thing, you’ll cringe at your first presentation eventually, but you’d get it done. You’re freaking amazing, Remy. I have no doubt that you’ll make a good impression. And if you have to make an impression, I’d prefer a good one to a bad one.”

Remy nodded, swallowing. They went to the college campus, and Remy’s ears were roaring as his heart pounded. It looked the same as ever, but it felt different to Remy, returning as not a student, not a ride, not a boyfriend, but a guest lecturer. “Oh, God,” he breathed.

Emile smiled, walking with him to the business building. “I’ve gotta get to my classes, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” Emile promised. “I love you.”

“Love you,” Remy said, getting a quick kiss from Emile before walking inside the business building.

He felt somewhat self conscious, dressed the way he was, but he walked down the hall until he saw his old professor, shaking his hand. “Good to see you again, Professor Fleming.”

“You too, Remy,” his old professor said. “You were one of my worst students, but also one of my favorites. I knew you could do something like this if only you applied yourself.”

“I guess you were right,” Remy said with a long-suffering sigh.

“What was that? Didn’t quite hear you,” Professor Fleming said with a smug grin.

“You heard me,” Remy grumbled.

“Nice to hear it, too,” he said. “Shall we go in? This will be all my business class students who are taking one hundred one level. I made sure you wouldn’t have to do this more than once over the course of the week.”

That made the whole prospect slightly more terrifying, but Remy nevertheless nodded. “Sure. May as well give it a shot.”

Professor Fleming walked in, and Remy followed behind him. The whole class quieted when they saw Remy, slouching against the professor’s desk in a bright blouse and dress pants. Remy could feel a slight heat building up in his ears. “Class, this is Remy Picani, the local store owner of Sleep Easy. Behave yourselves when you ask questions,” the professor said, giving the class a stern glance, before moving to sit in a seat in the front row of the classroom.

“Okay...right,” Remy said. “You all by now know my name, and most of you will probably forget it over the duration of the lecture. That���s okay, so long as you remember that I make a mean cuppa joe.” Ripples of laughter went through the class. Remy smiled, relaxing into a more natural pose. “Now, I want to make one thing abundantly clear: I am the exception, not the rule, okay? College isn’t for everyone, and that’s fine. But if you think you can drop out of college, start out on your own from nothing and become a successful business owner? Think again. I only got the property I did through my fiancé’s trust fund. And I only knew what I did about business because I read through all the books that were on the recommended reading list before I even went to college. So don’t look at me, go, ‘If he can do it, why can’t I?’ and try to follow in my footsteps. Not least because of the fact that I value my position as the only small business café on Main Street.” More laughter. “But go on, fire away some questions. I don’t have a structure for these sorts of things, this is actually my first lecture. We’ll go about this process together.”

A hand went up and Remy pointed to the girl. “Exactly how much math goes into running a business?” she asked.

“More than I’d like,” Remy said, laughing. “No, but. In all seriousness, it’s a lot of math. Not only to keep track of sales versus costs, but also number of people each day, reviews, and cash flow. There’s... so much math. It’s exciting, in a daunting kind of way. Like, I had the sort of mind that could have been an accountant. I would have been bored to tears, but I could do those sorts of equations. And make no mistake: you have to be good with those sorts of things in order to get through the other side of business that no one talks about.”

Another hand, and Remy pointed at the guy. “What inspired you to start the business?”

“A string of bad luck and upper management not taking me seriously as potentially becoming one of them,” Remy replied. “They didn’t want me running a shop, even though I knew everything that went into it. So I made my own.”

Another. “Why are you wearing a blouse?”

Remy turned red as murmurs went through the classroom. The professor coughed. “Let’s stick to the business side of things, please,” he said.

“No, it’s fine, I’ll answer,” he said. “I feel more comfortable and confident in this blouse than I do wearing suits. And since I’m my own boss, I can do that sort of thing.”

The questions he answered were mostly business focused, but there was the occasional jab at his dress or his sexuality. It was no secret that he and Emile had their kiss published in the paper.

One hand went up, and Remy inwardly cringed, as he could see the silver cross dangling from her neck. “Yes?” he asked her.

“Is there anyone you don’t allow in your shop?” she asked.

Remy relaxed a little. “Sure. People who are mean to the staff don’t exactly get welcomed in my shop. And then there are the loiterers, who I have to shoo off from time to time. And of course, there’s the homophobes...”

“You don’t allow people who disagree with being gay in your store?” she asked. “Isn’t that bad for business?”

“It’s a college town, I manage,” Remy said with a weak smile.

“But you’re shutting them out for their religious beliefs,” the girl protested. “That’s discrimination.”

“Actually, it’s not. Because you can choose to be accepting of gay people. You can’t choose being gay. There’s a difference,” Remy pointed out. “So I don’t let homophobes who are blatantly homophobic in my shop. Of course, hanging up queer art around the place from local artists probably doesn’t endear my shop to them any.”

“But—”

“Kid, what’s your name?” Remy interrupted.

“Shirley. And I’m not a kid,” she huffed.

Remy shrugged. “Your mental development is years of difference from mine, so to me, you’re a kid. Look. You’re in college now. You’ll find that a lot of people around you will do things you don’t agree with. A lot of people will be things you were taught were bad. And they’re not. You don’t have to join in, you don’t have to be that if you don’t want to be. But your personal opinions shouldn’t dictate anybody else’s experience. I don’t allow homophobes in my shop because I’m gay. I don’t feel safe around them, and like I said, it’s a college town. I manage. But I really don’t want you walking away from this thinking you should discard everything I say because I’m a ‘sinner.’ I may be gay, but I’m also a business man. And those two may have overlap in some places, but by and large they don’t. So don’t dismiss me right off the bat. Sound good?”

The girl sank in her seat and shrugged. “Shirley, see me after the class, all right?” Professor Fleming said. “Thank you for being understanding, Remy, I’m sorry about that.”

“Hey, I’m always trying to educate when I get the chance,” Remy joked.

The rest of the lecture went off without a hitch, and when Emile came over to drop Remy off the keys to the car, Remy felt bold enough to kiss Emile’s cheek. Professor Fleming smiled. “Would you be willing to do this again next semester?” he asked.

“Absolutely!” Remy agreed.

[raviposting]

Hey guys! I have another fic out for Luther & Allison’s dynamic - I’ve tagged folks who liked my excerpt post, please message me if you want to be untagged! :) 

Thank you to @ginnxtonic & @superhero-bastards for beta-reading! 

Crossposted to AO3 (properly formatted here!) 

Summary: Luther and Allison have been doing things in reverse their whole lives, so it’s no wonder that it applies to their relationship as well. A character study on Luther and Allison’s journey to being romantic, to friends, to siblings again.

Note: I wasn’t entirely sure how to tag this fic so I thought I’d describe it here for people to determine for themselves if they want to/can read it. For shippers - this fic does not support or promote their relationship; I believe that Luther & Allison’s dynamic formed as a trauma bond and I really wanted to explore that concept, so this might not be the fic for you though if it is, great! For non-shippers -  I wanted to explore their relationship and see how they could become genuine friends/platonic in canon. As I’m going through their dynamic there’s going to be incestuous undertones for the first part in particular. 

Whichever way you fall on that please just be warned on that before you read, as your own comfort when reading comes first. Thank you! 

Fic: The Days that Were (And Are to Come) under the cut!

Number One found out that Number Three was his soulmate on September 26, 1996. 

The six-year-old had been sitting with Mom, watching Cinderella again - their favorite movie. Well, Mom’s favorite, he reminded himself. He liked Superman and King Kong, but Mom really liked Cinderella and none of the other siblings really liked watching it so One would sit with her, his eyes tracing between the sparkling spirals as Cinderella got her magical dress and his mother sighing contentedly when she did so. 

“Sublime,” his mother would say, every time without fail. One didn’t understand why she would choose this routine, of sitting on the couch and watching the same movie, having the same reactions night after night after night after night, but the content smile on his mother’s face told One that there was something there for Mom. 

The rest of the movie went on as planned. Mom would clap in delight at the pumpkin getting changed into a carriage, sing along to all the songs, and sigh and say, “Look, darling, she’s meeting her Prince,” when Cinderella and the Prince locked eyes. 

Except for September 26, 1996, when Cinderella and the Prince locked eyes, Grace sighed, and said, “Look, darling, she’s meeting her soulmate.” 

One looked away from the screen, a brush of panic hitting him. He didn’t know that word. He racked his head for every word his father had taught him, every language he could think of, but his mind was blank. Mom looked over and frowned (a frown that looked more like a smile, it seemed like Mom’s default mode). 

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” she asked, and One looked up. The smile was back on her face when he looked at her. The light of the television reflected back onto one of her eyes like a monocle of light. It seemed wrong, threatening somehow, and something about the image was screaming to One that he couldn’t tell her that he didn’t know what the word meant. 

Besides, he was Number One, he was supposed to know what every word was. He took pride in it every time he got to show up Number Two in their lessons and Dad told him, “Good job, Number One,” when he explained the difference between arthropods and molluscs, while Two had sulked in the corner with his head down. He couldn’t just not know something now. 

“Nothing,” he said in response, and ran upstairs, ignoring Mom’s call asking him if he was okay. He was running down the hallway when he bumped into Three, and the two of them went sprawling onto the floor. 

“Sorry,” One said, getting up and holding out his hand to Three. 

“It’s okay,” she said, grabbing his hand and using her free one to rub the back of her head with a wince. “Where are you going?” 

“I…” One paused, debating if he should tell her, but then Three smiled encouragingly. It was a true smile that reached her eyes, and there was no...wrongness to it, like there was for Mom. 

“I need to look up a word,” he admitted. “Mom said soulmate. I don’t know what it is.” 

Three tilted her head to the side, her nose scrunching up in thought. “Me neither,” she said, and she turned, walking towards the library. “Let’s find out, then.” One looked at her, walking confidently towards the library room. She didn’t even seem to really care that she hadn’t known, just seemed set on finding out, and One marveled at that confidence as he followed behind her.

It was at the library that they pulled out the large dictionary and searched painstakingly until they got to “soulmate”, and One read: 

A person who is perfectly suited to another in temperament

A person who strongly resembles another in attitudes or beliefs

“Well that doesn’t make sense,” One sighed. “Mom was talking about Cinderella and the Prince. I don’t think they fit this.” 

“Why don’t you just ask Mom?” Three asked, and One shook his head, the same flash of panic he had felt earlier rising up in his chest again. 

Three must have sensed his panic because she reached over, taking One’s hand. “You can trust Mom,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Mom is here for us. She’s not going to be mad.” 

One looked down at their hands, thinking of Mom’s plastic smile, illuminated by the pale glow of the television screen, her posture upright and her limbs looking not-quite right. He wasn’t sure if he trusted her, but he did trust Three. 

“Okay,” he said, and squeezed back. 

Three didn’t join him, saying she needed to help Four - or Mallory, the name he was trying out for the week - pick out another name, so One slowly walked back downstairs alone. Mom was still there, hands clasped in her lap and the movie still playing, the smile still on her face. If One looked closely he thought he could see something glistening in her eyes, but it was probably the reflection from the screen. 

“Mom?” he asked, and she turned from the screen, her smile widening when she saw One. 

“Sweetheart, where did you go?” she asked, reaching out to cup his face, and One moved back instinctually. Her hand paused and dropped to her side, but the smile never left. 

“I needed to look up a word,” he said slowly and stilted. “Soulmate. You said it earlier, but I still don’t know what it means.”

His mother laughed, the noise somehow blending in perfectly with the music still blaring from the television. “Oh, silly, you can always ask me!” she said. 

“A soulmate is…” she paused, and her eyes looked far off and her smile dropped ever so slightly - probably, One assumed, to download information on everything there was to know about soulmates for him, and just as expected, her eyes cleared and she looked back at him, looking sure of herself. 

“A soulmate is someone who loves you entirely, and you love them the same. You both support each other, trust each other; that bond cannot be broken, no matter what or no matter how much time passes. That person is your person for life. Does that make sense, sweetheart?” 

One nodded, and she smiled brightly again. “There. It’s like I said, you can always ask me, sweetie,” she said, and she moved, slightly slowly, to envelop One in her arms. He let her this time and he heard her sigh happily, but One was barely paying attention to her, his own smile wide on his face. 

He had heard the definition and knew without a doubt that he already had a soulmate. He always knew their bond was important, but after Mom told him what soulmate meant he knew that it was more than he ever thought about. 

A soulmate, he thought to himself as he walked up to his room. I have a soulmate. 

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Bad love, bad love and misery….

The song droned on through the radio as Three and One looked through the baby naming books. 

“Hm...Kurt?” One asked, and he and Three looked at each other, imagining it, before shaking their heads in unison. One sighed, placing the book on an ever-growing pile next to him. 

“I’m never going to find a name, Audrey,” he groaned, and Three tried not to flinch at the name. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Three said. “Klaus changed his name tons of times before he picked one, Five and Seven still don’t have one.” One didn’t seem convinced, so she went on. “And hey, I don’t even know if I like mine,” she confessed. 

One sat up, his face rapt with attention. “You don’t? But you were so excited,” he said sadly. “You were saying how much you love Audrey Hepburn and this would be a great name for yourself.”  

Three sighed. “I thought it’d be nice, but it just doesn’t feel like….me,” she said. She hadn’t even realized what the issue was until she had said it - it felt like she was just wearing the name, not that it was hers. She wanted something that was hers, completely and wholly. Aubrey wasn’t her, it was a costume, a mask that she could put on as easily as if it was the mask on her uniform. 

“Do you want to change it?” he asked, and Three thought to herself. She had been feeling it for a while, but she had told herself that when she announced her name, that was it, it would be the only one and that was it. She had gotten excited, told One all about it, then told the rest of the family and they all said how wonderfully it fit her and by the time Three realized that it wasn’t working for her anymore it had been so long that it felt dumb to change it now. 

But One was looking at her, his eyes wide and non-judgemental, just filled with concern and understanding, and Three couldn’t think of what she was worried about. 

“I actually have one in mind,” she admitted, and One’s eyes perked up, encouraging her to go on. “I think one of my favorite things about the whole name thing is trying to find one with you. Listening to Luther Allison’s songs on the radio, going through all these books over and over and over again, it’s all really...they’re my favorite moments,” she said, feeling shy all of a sudden - no clue why, One wasn’t going to be mean about it anyway. “And I think I like Allison, for my name,” she admitted. 

“I think it’s great,” One said, smiling at her, and Allison smiled back. 

“Then I’m Allison,” she said brightly, and she looked back at One. “I think there’s even a name there for you, if you ever want it.” One locked eyes with her, and she knew, she knew that he got what name she thought would work for him. It was how soulmates worked, as One had described to her only a few years ago. She knew he understood her as much as she knew that he would choose that name eventually, just as she knew that he wasn’t ready to use it right now and not be Number One all the time, but that he’d get there anyway. 

“Maybe,” One said softly. “Maybe...you can just call me it when we’re alone? For now?” 

The thought of Allison being the only one to call him by his name made her heart beat a little faster. No one else would know - it’d be their own special soulmate secret, something so special and unique that even Dad wouldn’t know about it. 

“For now, Luther,” she said, and Luther smiled. The two leaned back on their spots on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, the only sound being their namesake’s music and the sound of each other breathing. Allison couldn’t see him, but she knew Luther was smiling just as she was smiling. 

She closed her eyes and leaned her head towards Luther, glad to have her safe strong beacon here with her in this moment. She reached out until she felt his hand, interlocking it with her own, and they stayed there, quiet, away from the rest of the world.  

We have it, she thought to herself, giddy with joy, knowing, knowing Luther was thinking the same.

A name.  

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Allison had known a surprise was coming, but she hadn’t thought it was this. A part of her wanted to tease Luther and say that he just had to show her up, after she had decorated their little hideout into a beautiful tent scene, but looking at the necklace in her hands she couldn’t find the words. 

No one had ever gotten her a present before, ever. She remembered this necklace, they had killed some robbers at a jewelry store weeks ago and Allison had peered over while Luther threw a robber through the window, had gasped at how pretty the necklace was, and squealed when the terrified clerk said, “I c-can engrave it for you, on the house.” 

They had contained the scene and Dad had swooped in, so Allison had gone off to talk to the reporters and rumor one into taking some headshots of her, but she had noticed Luther hanging back, and now, looking at the necklace that just said A+L she knew why. 

“Do you like it?” Luther asked. He seemed nervous, though Allison couldn’t figure out why when she was so happy it had to have shown on her face. 

“I’ll never take it off,” she said, and she meant it. She smiled down at her necklace and then back at her brother. “Oh!” she said, getting up for the rest of her surprise. “I almost forgot. I brought one more thing.” 

She put on the record and outstretched her hand towards Luther. She had seen him on their designated fun and games nights, whenever Mom would put on her Disney or romance movies. Luther always watched with rapt attention, even when he was pretending not to, and he’d sigh wistfully whenever there was a ball, looking longingly at the screen as the prince and princess glided across the ballroom floor. 

Allison didn’t have a fancy ball gown or a prince’s outfit, but Luther didn’t need a costume to feel that way anyway, and she thought she could give him this. 

He was about to grab her hand when Dad burst in, telling them what a disappointment they were, that he never wanted them in here ever again, and Allison flinched, moving ever-so-slightly behind Luther. Dad left and Allison slowly packed up her things, turning off the lights that she had so carefully strung up earlier that day and getting ready to take them off when Luther stopped her. 

“Don’t,” he said. “Dad...didn’t say the lights and tent couldn’t be up.” It was a rare bit of not-quite disobedience from Luther, and Allison looked back at him and nodded. 

“Yeah,” she said. “We can keep them up. We can come back on Saturday.” 

Luther gave her a weak smile back. The two walked back silently to their rooms, and Allison stopped Luther, giving him a kiss on the cheek. She felt him still briefly before he relaxed and grinned, bringing his hand up to his cheek. 

“Good night,” Allison said, and Luther stammered out a good night back. 

Allison curled into her bed, clutching her necklace and smiling as she dozed off to sleep. 

In her dreams, she saw herself in a long red dress, dancing with Luther clad in a suit, and the twinkling lights shining bright in the background. They twirled in the moonlight, her A+L necklace spinning with the two of them, and when he dipped her, Allison would hold his cheek and lean in, and he would as well. They’d kiss, just like in the movies they watched, and Allison would lean against him and just take in the moment as they swayed together, only enjoying each other’s company. 

In her dreams, they danced all night. 

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Diego leaves a few weeks after Ben’s funeral, yelling at their father in a way that reminded Luther all too well of a small cocky thirteen-year-old who had slammed a knife into the table four years ago. 

“We’re kids,” Diego had said, pointing his finger at their father. “Kids. You’re supposed to protect us, we’re not supposed to do anything else but live our lives.  You’re the one who failed us and Five and Ben, you piece of shit. We deserve better, we can go,” he had said, looking around at his siblings. Vanya was huddled in the corner, staring straight down at the floor, and Klaus seemed only vaguely aware of what was going on, his eyes an all-too familiar glassy shade that indicated that he was really only there physically. Allison locked eyes with Diego, and Luther puffed out his chest, standing next to Dad. 

“If you want to leave, Number Two, you can,” Luther had responded, and Allison and Diego stopped their staredown.

Diego had looked at them all and sighed. “Whatever,” he said, grabbing his duffel bag. “You can all go to Hell. You especially,” he said to Dad. “They don’t know any better but you do.” With that he went off to the hallway, lingering a bit to say something to Mom, and then the door slammed and Diego was gone. 

His father was silent and turned, walking back to his office. 

“Wait, don’t you have anything to say?” Allison asked, anger overwhelming her voice. 

“Training will be at 7:00 AM sharp tomorrow,” came the response, and the door was shut. Klaus laughed, muttering out a figures, and sprawled onto the staircase, staring at an unseen ghost and mumbling something about Ben. Vanya had disappeared from her corner on the stairs; Luther hadn’t even noticed when she had left. 

Allison clenched her fists, strolling over to the office, and Luther grabbed her arm right before she could turn the knob. 

“What are you doing?” he hissed, and Allison narrowed her eyes at him. 

“I don’t know yet,” she said. “Either Diego’s coming back home or we’re not having training tomorrow, it depends on my mood when I walk through the door, okay?” 

“You can’t,” Luther whispered. 

“I can if you let go of my arm,” Allison said. The two stared down at each other, and Allison narrowed her eyes. “I-”

Luther dropped her arm. “Allison,” he said, looking at her. “Please.” 

Something flashed in Allison’s eyes, too quick for Luther to properly figure out, and she dropped her hand from the doorknob. “Fine,” she said, turning around and stepping easily over Klaus as she left, not turning back once. 

He found her later in their usual spot, crying and picking at a loose thread on the hem of her shirt. 

“I’m sorry,” Luther said, sitting next to her. Allison’s fingers stilled. 

“For what?” she asked. 

“For making you mad,” he said, and Allison sighed. 

“It wasn’t you, Luther,” she said. “It was Dad. We’ve had nonstop training since Ben died, and I just want - we can’t go on like this, Luther. Diego got that.” 

Luther pushed down the reflexive annoyance at the comment. “Diego doesn’t know anything,” he said breezily. “He thinks that just because he has a few friends outside the academy that he’s better than us. He’ll be back groveling for Dad and the rest of us in no time.” 

“But what if he doesn’t?” Allison said, resuming picking at the thread on her shirt. 

“Then we don’t need him,” Luther said. “Allison, we don’t need anyone except each other, okay? It’s just like when we were kids, I always had you, and you always had me, right?” 

“Right,” Allison said. “Yeah, you’re right. I always feel safe with you,” she said, looking up at Luther, her brown eyes wide and earnest. “Like nothing in the world could ever get to me as long as you were there.” 

“I don’t want to lose that,” Luther said, and Allison nodded. 

“Me neither,” she agreed, and there was a content silence, until Luther broke it with a question he had been wondering for the entire day. 

“Allison, were you going to...rumor me this morning? With Dad?” he asked. Allison had used her power on their other siblings before, he’d see her trying to use it on Klaus to fix his addiction (something that would last about a week before it wore off), or to tease Diego; back when they were young she’d use it on Five so he couldn’t leave arguments when they were going back and forth. He hadn’t thought she’d ever use it on him, and the thought had made him feel special. 

“I…” Allison sighed, putting her head in her hands. “I’m sorry Luther, I was. I didn’t know what else to do.” 

“Not try to rumor me?” Luther tried to joke, but it came out flat, and he cursed himself for the insecurity leaking through his voice. There was an awkward silence, and he reached over, gently clasping both of Allison’s hands in his own. They hadn’t done that before but he had seen it in movies and thought it’d feel awkward. It did, kind of, but it felt nice too, and Allison smiled at the motion, which gave Luther the courage to say what he needed to next. 

“Allison, I will always have your back,” he said. “You can always count on me, okay? But I need to count on you too, and I need to know that you won’t rumor me.” 

“I won’t,” Allison said, the answer coming so quickly and easily that it made Luther’s heart swell. 

“I...also need you to not rumor Dad,” he said, and Allison wrinkled her eyes in confusion, and he felt her hands twitch ever-so-slightly under his own. 

“But I thought you just said that we’d always have each other’s backs,” she said slowly. 

“We do,” Luther said, trying to figure out where the confusion was. There shouldn’t be an issue after all, if they were together, they were in the house, and Dad knew what was best for both of them. There wouldn’t be any problems, he and Allison and whoever else wanted to stick around and listen would be heroes. They’d live a good life. 

“It’s either I don’t rumor you, or I don’t rumor Dad,” Allison said, moving her hands away from Luther. Her eyes steeled over, and Luther found himself reeling back a bit from her. She couldn’t do both? 

“I can’t do both,” Allison continued, as if she had heard his unspoken question. “I’m sorry, I can’t, Luther. Not even for you. I just need to know which one you’d rather I do, okay?” Her tone was softening, and she looked at him, but it didn’t comfort him. For the first time Luther felt like he couldn’t figure out exactly what was going on in Allison’s mind. There was something in her face, a desperation, her eyes searching for an answer that Luther didn’t think he had. It was as if he was getting one of Dad’s pop quizzes, and he hadn’t prepared for the possibility of one. 

Which one would he rather have? 

He thought about telling Ben that his powers were good enough for him to fight, and Ben’s casket getting lowered into the ground. Of Klaus, talking to friends no one else could see at the dinner table and the glint in his father’s eye, and the next week when Klaus came back quieter, and the months after when he started rolling joints under the table. Of Five, who had told their father how much better he had gotten at using his powers, and his portrait, hanging over the mantle to showcase his mistake for four years and counting. 

“Don’t rumor Dad,” Luther said, and Allison nodded.

“I won’t,” she said, though it seemed less sure than the first time she had promised, and then she sighed, bringing her hand up to massage her temple. “I have a headache, I’m sorry, so I’ll be - I’ll be off,” she said. She smiled at him, but it seemed weak, not reaching her eyes, and Luther couldn’t help but feel like he had just failed whatever test he’d been given. 

She brushed past him and stopped at the door, her hand on the knob. “For what it’s worth, I don’t want to ever rumor you either,” she said, and then she turned the knob and was gone. 

Luther sighed, and turned to leave. It was fine, he thought. This was the better decision. It was. It was a good decision. He gripped the doorknob and turned it, telling himself that he didn’t mess up, that there wasn’t anything wrong, that there was nothing he was missing, and by the time he exited he stood a little taller and his chin was up. The moment was difficult and hard but it had to be done, and he knew he and Allison would come through it stronger than ever. He knew, he knew, he knew. 

It was a good decision. It was. 

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“You’re leaving?” Luther asked, staring at the bags Allison had packed. 

“Luther,” Allison said, her eyes filled with pity and sadness. “We knew this was coming.” 

“No, we did not,” Luther said, even though he knew, deep down, that there wasn’t much shock there. Allison’s smile had seemed more strained lately, and she had locked herself in her room when Klaus had gotten kicked out a year prior, even longer when Vanya had unceremoniously left a few months later. The comments that she and Luther should run away together had increased, now no longer something she’d say in the safety of their hideout but something she’d say freely and carelessly: after missions, disposing of bodies, after Dad would turn a corner. 

Luther would remind her that they had each other, hoping it’d be enough, but he guessed he wasn’t. 

“I need to go out and live my life,” Allison said. “I’m just…” she sighed, searching for the words. “I’m just Number Three here, or the Rumor outside. I just want to be Allison.” 

“You’re Allison to me,” Luther said, and in his mind he saw Allison’s eyes light up with the realization, that he saw her just like she saw him, that it didn’t matter what name anyone else thought of for them because they had each other, and she’d run into his arms and he’d hold her and they’d keep each other safe. She’d promise that they’d never leave each other like the rest of their siblings that had abandoned them, that she couldn’t even imagine that she had been about to do it. 

Yeah, he could see it now, them dancing in their attic with the twinkling lights, playing some Luther Allison on tape. He hadn’t danced with Allison since Dad had interrupted them all those years ago. He’d do it for real this time and not let anyone interrupt, even Dad, because Allison was important. Allison was his soulmate and soulmates never left each other, ever, they protected each other and stuck through all the hard times and never wanted more because their soulmate was that more. 

Allison shook her head no, shattering the plans already forming in Luther’s head. “I’m glad I’m Allison to you,” she said, walking over to him, suitcase in hand, using her other hand to gently cup his cheek. “But I need to be more than that.” 

Luther shook his head. “No,” he said. “If you leave then, I’ll be-” he stopped, wanting to say he’d be alone but not feeling like it was right, somehow. He’d have Mom, he’d have Pogo - Pogo was his best friend, he wouldn’t be alone but there was something about Allison leaving that left him with a vast emptiness inside anyway. 

“Come with me,” Allison insisted. “We can go somewhere, together. We know where the others are, we can see them from time to time but it’ll be the two of us, just Luther and Allison. Not Space Boy and Rumor, not One and Three, just Luther and just Allison.” 

Luther tried thinking about it, a life outside the house. He didn’t even know what he would do, and the thought of it scared him. Allison didn’t know either, she was just stepping out into a world that would gleefully rip her apart if it could, just as it did with Ben, and Five, and Klaus, and what he was sure it was doing to Diego and Vanya right now. 

“We’re better off here,” he said. “Allison, you have to stay here.” 

He hadn’t meant for it to sound like a command but it did, and Allison sighed. “Luther, you have to let me leave,” she said, and Luther hated the resignation in her voice, and for a moment he hated her for having it. It wasn’t him wrecking their life, it was her, she just couldn’t see it clearly. 

“No,” he said. “Allison, I - I won’t let you leave,” he said desperately, trying to think of how to get her to stay when it hit him. Of course, of course - he’d take her dancing and do whatever else she wanted for the day, just a few more moments and she’d get it, she’d understand, they could fix this, they could fix this.

“Luther,” Allison said, and Luther was pulled back to the Allison in front of him, tears pricking at her eyes as she touched her forehead to his, and Luther sighed in relief at the motion, and smiled when she said, “I love you, you know that, right?” 

“I do,” Luther mumbled. He loved her, and she loved him, and their love was stronger and more important than anything else that was thrown at them. It was going to be alright. They were going to fix this. 

“I heard-” Allison started, and Luther backed away, his eyes wide. He shook his head, shooting a rare look of anger at her. 

“Allison,” he said, the pleading in his voice evident, and Allison gripped her suitcase, seemingly steeling herself. As if she was the one who was hurting here. As if she wasn’t intentionally throwing their world upside down because she couldn’t handle a few more years of Dad. 

“I need to leave. I’m sorry,” she said. “I heard-” she started again. 

“No,” Luther said, but Allison went on, the tears already clouding her image of Luther and the betrayal clear on his face. 

“- a rumor.” 

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A baby.

Allison had a baby. A baby girl. Claire. Claire Green, Allison had said after a beat. Luther tried not to wince at the full name but he was sure Allison felt it all the way over the phone and there was a five-second-pause that felt like the five years Allison had been gone. Allison was as flawless as ever, however, picking right back up to describing her daughter and steamrolling the pause to the ground. 

“It’s amazing, Luther, she’s amazing,” Allison said. “Her hands are so tiny, but she’ll grasp onto my finger and won’t let go, and then it feels like she’s the strongest thing in the whole world.” 

Luther stored that in the back of his head, knowing it was metaphorical but wondering all the same if Claire shared a power with him, and the thought made his chest ache. 

“I’ve heard kids can do that,” he said, chuckling a bit, and he could hear the smile widening on Allison’s face. 

“You know, I always kind of shook my head at people talking about how having their kids is life-changing, but they’re right,” Allison said. “I was scared, I was so scared Luther, this entire time about being pregnant.” 

Luther hadn’t known that, but he nodded along as if he did and as if she could see him. 

“When I went into labor, God, it’s stupid but I kept getting so worried Luther. I even thought that maybe I could just rumor her to stay in a little longer because I wasn’t ready, but then she was out and they put her in my arms and…” she sighed, and he could imagine the same faraway smile she had when she had announced to their siblings that her name was Allison now, soft and sweet and eyes sparkling with opportunity. “They put her into my arms and I realized something. I’ve never loved anyone more than I love that little girl.” 

Luther’s mouth was thick, the aching in his chest getting tighter and tighter until he choked out a strangled, “I’m so happy for you, Allison” and a more sincere, “You deserve this.”  

“You should come visit,” Allison said. “Diego and Vanya said they’d come, and Klaus…well, he’s Klaus,” she said, a hint of annoyance in her voice before it softened again. “I would love for you to meet her.” 

Luther imagined visiting, seeing Allison and Claire and...him, even. He and Diego could be civil for a day or two, he could make small talk with Vanya, and most important of all, see Allison. Allison and his newfound niece. He hoped she’d like him. He had seen videos of babies being placed in strangers’ arms and immediately sobbing and he had the sudden image of Claire being placed into his arms, locking eyes with his form, and bursting out into tears. His eyes shifted from the phone to his arms, the skin black and wrinkled and bushy. 

“Luther?” Allison asked. 

“I ah….” Luther drifted off, but on the other end he heard a man’s voice. “Babe?” the voice said. 

“Sorry Luther, I have to go,” Allison said quickly. “It was...good talking to you. I missed you,” she said. 

“I missed yo-” Luther started, but he heard the line click and the dial tone of the phone. He hung it up as gently as possible, and shuffled back to his father’s office, knocking quickly at the door before entering. 

“Allison had her baby,” Luther said. “A little girl named Claire.” 

Mom gave a gasp of joy and clapped her hands, and Pogo smiled, his face softening with the news. 

“Isn’t that wonderful, sweetie?” Mom asked Reginald, and she looked back at Luther, her eyes twinkling. “I’m a grandmother, we have a beautiful little girl named Claire!” 

His father didn’t look up from his desk. Save for his pen stopping midway through whatever notes he was taking, Reginald didn’t seem to give any indication that he had even heard Luther. “Does the child have abilities?” 

“No,” Luther responded. 

The pen started up again. Mom’s smile stayed plastered on and Pogo’s face wrinkled back into his neutral sad state, and Luther waited, allowing the silence to overtake them all. 

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“Moon sure is beautiful tonight, huh baby?” Ray asked, and Allison ripped her eyes away from the window. 

“Hm?” she asked. 

“The moon?” Ray repeated. “You’ve been staring at it for the past few minutes.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Allison said, smiling at her husband. “It’s beautiful.” 

Ray looked at her for a bit, knowing something was up, but he didn’t press on, and Allison loved him for it. He had been so understanding and patient with her, accepting her, “My life is...complicated,” as an answer to who she was. He had told her that it was all right, that he was planning on sticking with her for as long as God gave him on this Earth and that when she was ready, she could tell him.

She had kissed him then, smiling through her tears because here she was, offering nothing to this wonderful, kind man and being given the world in response. 

It made her feel wrong, somehow, not telling him about her family. They’d find her, one day, and she didn’t know how Ray would react to meeting them with no warning, or when Five would inevitably fix the problem so they could go back to 2019. He’d probably come with her - she hoped - but then he’d have to adjust to 2019, and meet Claire and… Allison clutched the dishrag in her hands, forcing herself to think about anything else but her baby girl. She’d think about her every day, missing her daughter’s warmth, her smile, even her tantrums that Allison had so foolishly gotten irritated at so long ago. She would give everything up, her abilities, her life, her marriage if it meant she could hold her daughter for just one more day. 

It hurt too much to tell Ray, and she wouldn’t even know where to begin. With the powers she had, the other siblings who were probably somewhere else right now causing havoc? She could hear him now, asking about all of them. How could she explain Ben without breaking down? How could she explain Luther? 

It was easier to just keep quiet, even though every lie by omission felt like another bandage was placed across her throat, building and building until she couldn’t breathe anymore. 

So she looked at the moon, and imagined her siblings were out there staring up at it as well. Sometimes she’d look up and imagine it breaking apart, the pieces hurtling towards her, and she wondered if Vanya ever looked up at the moon and felt a sense of dread. She’d look up and remember cursing at it when she had gotten Luther’s message that he was going on a special mission to the moon, looking up at it and hating that he was there, alone, hating Dad for sending him there and hating Luther for going and always wondering if it was so he could avoid attending her wedding and meeting Claire. 

Her thoughts were filled with all her siblings, but Luther took up the most space, almost as much as they did of Claire and thinking about him filled her with both longing and guilt. She told herself it was fine, just her thinking of her favorite sibling, but in her most desperate of moments she knew that thinking about a favorite sibling shouldn’t make her feel like she was cheating on her husband.

She had been asked once, from one of her colleagues, if she had ever had a significant other and Allison had hesitated before saying no. It had felt like a lie and her friend had raised her eyebrows, disbelieving, but had let it drop. When Allison mentioned her siblings and brought up Luther the same look had crossed her friend’s face, and after an awkward silence, her friend mumbled out, “Well hey, no worries, at least you guys aren’t really siblings.” 

That hadn’t sounded right either, but Allison couldn’t pinpoint why and trying to think about it more made her feel like she was standing back at the Academy right before Dad was ready to scold them, so she just nodded and said, “Yeah, technically we’re not siblings anyway.” 

She could imagine the hurt on her other siblings’ faces, but saying she and Luther were only siblings felt wrong too, as if she was betraying someone no matter what she said. 

How could she explain any of that to Ray? He may be the world’s most understanding man, but there was only so much that any person could accept. How could she explain that she loved him, really truly loved him, but that she had this bond that she couldn’t shake and didn’t think she wanted to shake anyway? How could she explain that Luther existed in this odd in-between of relationships in her life, a not-quite something but a not-quite nothing, that saying that he was her brother felt like a glorious truth and a stab in her heart at the same time? She couldn’t explain it to herself, much less Ray. 

Ray walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her shoulder. “I’m going to go to bed, all right?” he said, and Allison nodded, the thoughts of Claire and Luther and the rest of her family taking up too much occupancy in her mind for her to properly speak without breaking down. He kissed her cheek and untangled himself from her, and Allison heard him walk up the stairs to go to bed. 

One day she would tell him. She would sit him down and explain everything, start to finish, and hear what he’d have to say and accept it, no matter what it was. She would. 

For now, though, Allison stared at the moon. 

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A file. 

Luther’s life had been reduced to a short, one-page file. Or well, his new life. His new timeline life? He wasn’t too sure. 

Either way, his name was Tom now, and he was a mechanic living in town. He had a twin brother living in Europe, he was British now, apparently, and he was dating a woman named Amy. 

It was short, but apparently all that Dad could find on their new selves. He’d clearly invested as much time finding their alternate-selves as he had in ever raising them with any care in their lives. Not that it was any big difference from their own timeline’s father, Luther thought, remembering the reports he had found under the floorboard, with only a hint of bitterness. He had given up a life, love, his body for his father’s mission, and Dad had just tossed him aside like garbage and found a new group of children to raise. 

He choked down his bitterness - it wasn’t going to help his siblings, and there was no use trying to hash out his issues with a father who didn’t care, anyway. 

“Find out anything about yourselves?” he asked. Five looked down before tossing his file on the table. 

“I’m galavanting around Europe, apparently,” he said dryly. “This me is a…. hippy who wants to backpack across the world,” he said, the words dripping with venom. 

“Philosophy professor in Florida, which is horrifying,” Klaus groaned. “Philosophy professor is bad enough, but Florida?” 

“I’m in Mexico,” Diego said, and when the siblings looked at him to expand he looked down and shrugged. “I do interior design, and if anyone makes fun of me -”

“-I’m dead,” Vanya interjected, trying to be casual, though the wobbling of her voice betrayed her. “Just died as a baby, according to my file.” Klaus started to move towards Vanya, but she shrugged him off. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it to be a thing, it just came out. We can move on from it.” The now was unspoken but clear.  

There was an awkward silence, and Allison spoke up. “I’m in town,” she said, trying her best to sound cheery, even as she shot her sister a concerned look. “My name is Amy Jackson, and it doesn’t say much else about me.” 

Luther looked at her, then back to his file. “Well that’s funny,” he said. “My girlfriend’s name is Amy.” 

The silence got even louder and awkward, and Allison stared at the floor. Five sighed, and Vanya broke the silence.

“Okay, I think I’m fine with being dead now,” she said, and Klaus laughed. 

“Hey, at least you two can do your whole, ‘technically we’re not related’ thing in this timeline!” Klaus added, and Luther opened his mouth to argue, and then stopped. Did he want to argue? 

Allison grabbed his file from him and was reading it over. “It doesn’t say a last name,” she said. “It doesn’t mean it’s me. There’s a lot of Amys in the world.” 

Diego opened his mouth, ready to tease, but Five interjected, saying that love lives didn’t matter but that they should at least check out the leads, and that they had the most information on Luther so they’d go and find him and go from there. 

Luther was glad to have Five there, and even more glad when Allison said that she wanted to keep an eye on the rest of the Sparrows and the rest of their siblings agreed, leaving just Five and Luther to stalk his other self from afar. 

The ride to the not-him’s house was short and quiet. Luther sprawled himself in the back seat, looking out the window as Five drove, not even caring enough when he saw people staring in shock as they drove by. When they pulled up to the house, Five turned to Luther. 

“You know, when you see him, he won’t look like you, not exactly,” he said, and Luther shrugged. 

“I know, I’ve thought about it,” Luther said, though he hadn’t, really. His thoughts had been wrapped up in Allison-slash-Amy and he hadn’t remembered that, save for being slightly stronger than other people, he would be normal in this life, in more ways than one.

Five looked at him, and turned back without a word. 

They waited for a while, until Luther was sure that maybe his other self wasn’t going to ever leave his house, and then the door opened and he stepped out. He was whistling a tune, not a care in the world, absentmindedly checking his pockets and then turning at a woman’s voice yelling, “Wait, babe!” and the door opened yet again. 

A young Asian woman ran out, holding out car keys, and his other self laughed and thanked her, and she kissed him quickly on the lips before going back inside. 

The relief that Luther felt was immeasurable. It’s not Allison, he thought, giddy with the knowledge, and then the guilt and shame washed over him immediately. It wasn’t a bad thing if it were her anyway, because it was okay here. Allison was his rock, if she was his rock here it’d be even better. Right? He loved her, she had taken up every thought in his head every day that he had been without her, so why did he feel so much relief knowing that his other self wasn’t with her? Was he only in love with her in their own fucked up world? Was that why he was happy that he wasn’t with her here? 

The revulsion grew in Luther’s throat as he remembered his father’s voice in his head, telling fifteen-year-old him that he was unnatural. Maybe Dad hadn’t turned him into a monster. Maybe he had just exposed what was already there, an abnormality that was already festering the shape of a human, and just made it obvious to the outside world. 

Five didn’t say anything on the ride back home, instead just shooting him glances when he thought Luther wasn’t looking. Maybe he thought Luther was disappointed, or he could tell that Luther was conflicted - or rather, conflicted about not feeling conflicted. Luther wasn’t sure - he never knew what was going on in that little guy’s mind, but he was thankful all the same for him. Five wasn’t going to push for Luther to talk about his feelings, and Luther wasn’t exactly even sure about what those feelings were. 

All he knew was that he needed this timeline fixed soon. 

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When the timeline is fixed and they get their own Ben back, it’s the miracle of miracles, and Luther allowed himself to swoop up his siblings, lifting them up off the ground as he enveloped them all in a bear hug.

Allison went back home, briefly, promising to come back with Claire, and the thought filled Luther with anxiety but he nodded and smiled and told her to come back soon. 

She did, and it all came crashing down again for Luther. 

There was a little girl, about five years old now, holding onto Allison’s hand. Her eyes were wide and she was staring at them all with nervousness and excitement. Ben had approached her first, cautiously saying that she didn’t know this, but that he’d seen her as a baby with their Uncle Klaus. It was as if a dam had broken, and the other siblings gathered around their niece, some for the first time and others for a second. 

Luther backed out of the room as quietly as possible and went back upstairs, to his hideout. 

Allison found him there, half an hour later, and Luther sighed when he saw the sadness on her face. 

“I’m sorry, Allison,” he said. “I want to meet Claire. I do. It’s just…” he trailed off. 

“Just what?” Allison asked, sitting down across from him. There wasn’t any judgement or resentment in her voice, just sadness, and it occurred to Luther that no matter what he said, Allison was probably feeling it just as much as he was. 

“What are we?” he asked Allison, and she looked down at her hands. “I feel like -  I know that we’re siblings, but there’s….” he trailed off again, trying to think about it. His mind went back to Jack Ruby, sliding over Allison’s information with the comment, “You really know how to pick ‘em,” which had rubbed Luther the wrong way but he knew he’d be a fool to snap against. 

Everything about that had felt a little wrong, from Jack knowing where she lived to him asking in the first place. When he had asked Jack to find her, Jack had asked if she was an ex, and it didn’t feel particularly right to Luther (she was his sister after all, and besides that she couldn’t be an ex if nothing ever happened between them, technically), but it had been simpler to just go, “Yeah, something like that,” in response. When he had heard Raymond Chestnut say Allison Chestnut, the words had been a punch in the face, but surprises of surprises, Raymond was kind to him and when Allison didn’t want to leave, Luther had felt another punch, but this time for Raymond and the overall unfairness of the world that Allison couldn’t be with the man she loved. When he had given Allison CPR, he’d felt the relief of her living, the thrill of almost-kissing someone, and then the immediate shame and awkwardness as he desperately tried to apologize.

He hadn’t known when that conflict happened. Maybe with the wrongness of asking Jack’s help or meeting Raymond, or maybe before that when he had bulldozed Vanya in his quest to avenge Allison in a revenge plot that she hadn’t asked for, or maybe long before that, in the back of his head even when he’d gravitate towards Allison with their soft touches and lingering looks. He’d always known she was his sister and he always knew that he loved her, but both had existed in two separate spaces in his head until somewhere along the way the cognitive dissonance had disappeared and something that had seemed so simple and easy to Luther suddenly felt complicated and uncomfortable. 

They weren’t a relationship, but they weren’t a normal pair of siblings either. 

“You feel like we’re in an in-between type of space?” Allison asked. “Like - we know our other siblings are our siblings, but that with us, it’s just a little different?” 

Luther nodded, the relief hitting him as Allison spoke. “Yes, that exactly. And it makes me feel weird, Allison, because I’m thirty-two now, technically, and I’m only just now realizing that it’s not a normal thing. And I just-” he sighed, and the rest of his words came out in a panicked rush. “I want to meet Claire. I really do, Allison, I swear. I want to be the best uncle that I can be, but I think about her calling me Uncle Luther and I just can’t handle it.” 

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t worry,” Allison said, reaching out to grab his shoulder, and Luther stopped rambling. “I know,” she said, and he saw the tears in her eyes but they refused to fall. Instead, her grip only tightened on his shoulder. “You don’t need to see her now, and we can wait until you’re ready.” 

“What if I’m never ready?” Luther asked, staring at the floor, and Allison sighed, though her hand never left his shoulder. 

“Then that’s fine too,” she said, and Luther knew she meant it, that if need be she’d always tell Claire that Uncle Luther had something to do and wouldn’t hold it against him, because she was far more adjusted than he was even if she felt the same bond, and far kinder and forgiving than Luther ever was. 

It wasn’t fair to her, though. It wasn’t fair to Claire. It probably wasn’t even fair to him, though he couldn’t think of why it wasn’t. 

“Allison?” he asked, ripping his gaze from the floor. “Can you rumor me?” 

Allison blinked, and her hand finally dropped from his. “I - rumor you?” 

“Rumor me,” Luther said. “It’s okay, I want it. Just rumor me, and I can be around you and Claire without a problem.” 

“It’s not how that works, Luther,” Allison said. “You know it’s not. My rumoring only lasts a week, tops-” 

“Bullshit,” Luther said, and he didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh but it did. “Vanya’s block lasted until 2019.” 

“She was five, Luther, and Dad kept her drugged up and kept gaslighting her to think that she was normal, this is different, you’re an adult. I’d have to rumor you every single week to not have feelings.” 

“Then dammit, Allison, do it!” Luther cried, hitting the floor with his fist. The motion made Allison flinch slightly and the tent to finally collapse around him, and Luther put his head in his hands, trying and failing to stop the tears. 

“Luther,” she said, leaning back towards him. “I did this to Vanya. I did this to Klaus. It doesn’t work. I don’t want to control another sibling, okay? I won’t do that.” 

“Please, Allison,” he said, trying to wipe at the tears that just kept on coming. “I just want to be normal.” 

“Stop saying that,” Allison said, and he looked when he heard the anger and the break in her voice. “You keep saying you’re not normal, you are. Maybe we’re a bit unconventional, sure, but you’re not some monster.” 

“But-” Luther started, and Allison shook her head, wiping furiously at tears starting to form. 

“And if you are then I am too, so stop saying that, okay?” 

Luther didn’t think he was all that normal if he was a half-gorilla man who was in love with his sister, but he never wanted Allison to feel that way either, so he nodded, and Allison softened. She started moving the collapsed tent away from Luther, letting it fall on the ground in a heap. 

“Look... I used to get therapy, sometimes,” she said, untangling the string lights from the tent’s cloth. “I probably should have gone more often than I did, and I rumored half of them, but for the times I didn’t it was... good.” 

“You think I need therapy?” Luther asked. That didn’t feel like something a normal person got to him. 

“I think we all need therapy,” Allison said, wrapping the lights around her hand. “And it’s great, Luther, it is. You pay someone to just sit there and listen to you talk, and they’re not there to judge. Their entire job is to just help you.” 

Luther was quiet, and Allison moved on to the crumpled cloth on the floor, folding it neatly and putting it next to the string lights. 

“Rumoring you isn’t going to work long-term,” she said. “And it wouldn’t be your own thoughts anyway. Claire deserves better than that. We deserve better than that.” 

Luther wrapped his hands around his knees, thinking. “You’re getting therapy too?” he asked. 

“I’m getting therapy too,” she affirmed. “Think about it.” 

With that, she reached out her arm towards his face but then seemed to think better of it, opting instead to pat his knee before going back downstairs, where their siblings were still talking and Claire was yelling with laughter. 

Luther listened to the sounds, wishing he could go downstairs, and he wrapped his arms tighter around his knees. He wanted to be able to talk to Allison the way he did Klaus, or Diego, or Five. He wanted to see his niece, and give her a piggy-back ride and be an uncle. He wanted to have a family. 

Maybe therapy wasn’t a bad idea after all. 

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Therapy was weird. 

It was good too, Luther thought, but mostly weird. He liked Dr. Martin, so that was good. In their first session she had asked him about why he had come to therapy and he had talked to her about Allison, and the moon, and his body. He had expected a “and how does that make you feel” and had been ready to bolt right then and there, but she had just said, “The moon? Interesting, tell me more about how you lived there,” and he had perked up and talked. They had spent the rest of his first session talking about goals for Luther - a “be able to feel like I can meet Claire” goal at first. 

She hadn’t even broached the body stuff until a few sessions later, and then slowly as they went on she asked more about his siblings, slowly getting to Allison along the way. 

Luther was learning a lot about himself. Mostly that he carried a lot of guilt, like Dr. Martin suggested. He should have been the protector of the group as Number One. He hadn’t protected any of them, not even Allison, she had told him what she wanted loud and clear with Vanya and he had bulldozed over the both of them, so wrapped up in thinking that he was protecting them, all of them, that he had hurt his siblings all the more. Alongside the “be able to meet Claire” goal he added another one: Apologize to your siblings. 

He wrote all this down and more in the journal that Dr. Martin had given him (he needed to ask her for another one, the book was down to its last few pages and Luther had so much more to say). He had written about his childhood, and growing up in his house, and he had been upset, at first, when he read it all out. There was so much that he had thought was beautiful and special about growing up in the Academy, but reading it out on paper just felt so…sad. He wondered if this was how Vanya had felt when she had written her book, and the story that felt like a traitorous ramble started feeling more like an insight into her mind, and he wrote another goal in his journal: Re-read Vanya’s book.  

He was also starting to get his relationship with Allison. “Have you ever heard of trauma bonding?” Dr. Martin asked. 

Luther had blinked, taken aback by the word. “Trauma bonding?” he repeated, trying to bite back the initial thought he had. I don’t have trauma. The thought still reverbated in his mind from time to time, but he’d only have to take one look at his journal to remind himself that he felt sad for the child in the journal, and that if he felt sad it probably wasn’t a happy childhood. 

“Trauma bonding,” Dr. Martin said, nodding. “When two people grow up in a toxic environment, they may develop bonds with one another. This may be between an abuser and their victim, or individuals suffering the abuse together. I think it sounds like what happened with you and Allison. You were both a safe space for each other that you couldn’t find anywhere else in your home, and these strong emotions were interpreted as attraction.” 

It sounded beautiful, in a way, even though Luther didn’t think it was meant to be taken that way. It also made sense, if Luther were to think about it. They had always been pillars of support to each other, had been one another’s confidants and shared their hopes and dreams with one another, always circling back to each other when they were upset and hurt, which in their home was almost all the time. Their entire relationship fit so perfectly and neatly into two words. 

It was on Luther’s mind when he and Allison met up later that month, as they did nowadays. It felt off, planning their meetups, and Luther constantly had to remind himself that it wasn’t a date, but it was also something to look forward to rather than how they used to meet. He had gone from seeing Allison every day to not seeing her for years, to the random pop-ins with the apocalypse and all and it was nice, knowing there’d be a day designated to talking to Allison, hearing updates about Claire, and them both talking about therapy if they wanted, and how they were doing. 

The lunches were hard, at first, there was so much that was still so difficult to say between the two of them, but then one day Allison had started showing him new photos of Claire and telling him stories about how she had Five wrapped around her finger, which Luther found hilarious, and they were slowly getting back to themselves. They talked, slowly, about therapy and how it was going, and each lunch got a little bit easier and a little less sad each time, and Luther was excited, for once, to share something from therapy with Allison.

“Trauma bonding, have you heard of it?” he asked after a quick hello and hug, and Allison nodded. Luther grinned. “It’s what we have!” he said, leaning back in his chair. “There’s a whole name for it, something that other people have and share, and we have it.”  

“I’ve heard it,” Allison said. “I don’t love it, though,” she admitted. She saw Luther’s face fall and added, quickly, “I’m not saying that you can’t, Luther. You can. Maybe one day I’ll like it more, maybe I just don’t like the phrase, I don’t know. It’s okay if it works for one of us.” 

“Oh,” Luther said. It felt a little confusing, for him to cling so happily to the phrase while she did not, but he thought he understood. “What do you think of us?” he asked. 

Allison picked apart the cookie on her plate, until it was crushed into small crumbs. “Do you remember when you told me we were soulmates?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Luther said, feeling a bit apprehensive. He remembered being a six-year-old hearing what a soulmate was and all he could hear was trauma bond trauma bond trauma bond, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t tell Allison that it was so clear to him now what it was. 

“I think...we’re still soulmates. Not - not in that way, I’m not saying I think we should get married or that I even want to - no offense -” she added, as Luther’s face betrayed a bit of offense at the comment. “I just think, well - dammit why is this so hard?” she asked, crushing the last bit of her cookie. 

“I know,” Luther said softly. “I don’t think it’s ever going to stop being hard.” That was something else he had to come to terms with in therapy. He had thought that having a name to his issues would make them all go away - body dysphoria, child abuse survivor, trauma bond - but while they helped him figure out what was wrong they didn’t make any of those feelings actually go away. “Maybe a bit easier, but always just a little bit hard. We have each other, Allison, and we always will. It’s okay if it’s hard to say.” 

Allison looked at him and smiled. “That’s why I think you’re my soulmate, you know that, right?” she said. “I don’t think they have to be romantic, they’re just people who are always going to be with you and support you. I feel safe with you, Luther, like I can be myself completely, like if I fell off a cliff you’d be there to catch me and help me and that I could do that same for you. You’re my soulmate, Claire is my soulmate, the rest of our siblings are my soulmates. That’s what I mean.” 

“I think that sounds beautiful,” he said, and he meant it. He wasn't sure he agreed, but he was starting to get what Allison meant about them having different definitions and that being okay. He had a trauma bond, she had a platonic soulmate. There was something there that intersected and he tried to figure it out. A trauma soulmate, he thought briefly, but he didn’t say it because it felt a bit stupid to say out loud and he didn’t want to minimize the moment. Instead, he took a breath and said the other thing he had wanted to tell Allison. 

“I think I’m ready to meet Claire.” 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Claire looked up at him with wide eyes, her neck craning up as she tried to meet Luther’s face, and Luther laughed despite himself. 

“Hey Claire,” he said, crouching down and smiling at his niece. “I’m your Uncle Luther.” 

The words still felt like a punch in the gut, but nowhere near devastating as he thought they’d still be, and when Claire smiled and said, “I knew that!” he felt a warmth that made the punch worth it. 

They spent the day at the house, Claire asking every single story about their old missions and space and Luther happily obliging. She grabbed onto his hand at one point as she looked around his room, pointing at the replicas of rockets he had hanging around and pulling him forward as she looked at all of them. Luther let her drag him around in a daze, as Claire kept on talking and asking questions. There were no questions on why she hadn’t met him before, no shrieks of fear at his size, no expectations besides fun stories about the Academy that she had already heard a million times before from their other siblings. 

When Allison said they needed to get Claire back to her father’s house, Luther felt a pang of disappointment, but it went away as quickly as it appeared when Claire said, “This was fun! See you later Uncle Luther!” 

And he did, over and over and over again. Sometimes he’d be with her and one of their other siblings, sometimes it’d just be Allison and Claire only, sometimes Allison would let him babysit and it’d just be Claire hanging out with her Uncle Luther, which was the nicest of all. 

One day they were out at the aquarium, Claire pointing at different fish and oohing and aahing at how pretty they were (Luther agreed), saying she thought she’d love to be a shark (Luther would rather be a dolphin), scrunching up her nose as she tried to read the descriptions and asked him what on Earth a mollusc was (Luther didn’t know). It went on and on for every exhibit, and Luther loved every moment of it. It was when Allison was letting Claire pick out something from the gift shop that a woman walked up to him, beaming and saying that she thought they had the cutest family. Luther blinked once in confusion and looked back at Claire and Allison before saying to her, “Oh, no, that’s my sister and my niece.” 

It was later, when Allison was putting down a tired Claire to bed that he thought about what he said, and he paused before admitting to Allison that he hadn’t ever said she was his sister to someone else that easily and quickly before. It had always come with a bit of hesitation in his mind, a weird little pause before he’d mutter “yeah, kinda” to whatever the person’s assumptions were. He told Allison about it and she smiled. 

“I’m proud of you,” she said, smiling, and she bumped his shoulder with her own when he didn’t reciprocate the smile. “What’s wrong?

“It feels good to hang out with Claire. It makes me feel...happy,” he said. “She doesn’t have any bad memories of me, and she just thinks of me as fun Uncle Luther. That’s it. I like being that person.” He frowned then, and went on. “But I also feel like I lost something, you know? Like I’m mourning the fact that I didn’t hesitate. And I’m getting there with you, it’s like every day it’s a little bit easier and I start thinking of you like I do my other siblings, but it feels like a...loss, somehow?” he finished lamely. “Sorry, it’s dumb, I know it’s what we want.” 

“It’s not dumb,” Allison said, a twinge of annoyance clear in her voice, as it always was whenever Luther said something self-depracating. “I get it. I’ve been going through the same thing,” she said, and Luther looked over in surprise. Allison had been honest about therapy and her feelings, but she had seemed so put-together since she had started. She’d speak about everything in her sessions with such a certainty. Besides, out of the two of them she was the only one with previous husbands, and she had gone on dates here and there with other people with such ease that Luther had assumed that she had managed to quickly work through whatever feelings she had for him. 

Allison got up, grabbing a bottle of wine from her fridge and pouring it into two glasses before setting one in front of Luther. “I’m glad,” Allison continued. “I’m glad we’re friends now, and I still feel like I can tell you everything, but you’re right. Things are different now.” 

Luther nodded, and a silence fell between them, though he couldn’t determine if it was an awkward one or not. 

“I think,” Allison said, looking past Luther and at Claire’s closed door. “That it’s okay though.” Her eyes moved from the door to Luther and she smiled. “It’s like our relationship with Five, or Ben, or Vanya now. They’re never going to be the same as they were before Five disappeared, or Ben died, or Vanya didn’t know about her powers, and maybe that’s okay. It’s not a relationship dying, it’s just...taking on a different form.” 

“Huh,” Luther said, mulling it over. “I think I like that.” Maybe he wouldn’t have that hesitation before saying Allison was his sister anymore, and maybe a part of him would always feel a little bit guilty about that. Maybe one day he’d find someone who he could actually be with, genuinely and completely, and he could talk freely and openly about it as much as Allison did to him, and maybe it’d be a little bit awkward, but they’d get through it all the same. 

And maybe that awkwardness wasn’t bad either. Clinging onto the past had proven unhealthy for them, but trying to brush it under the rug and ignore any lingering jealousy or awkward moments wasn’t the way to go either. He liked the thought of building this new bridge with Allison, an awkwardly built one that probably looked a little lopsided, but a strong foundation all the same, and mentally, he added a new goal to his journal: Appreciate this new relationship with Allison, always. 

Allison raised her glass, smiling at Luther. “To moving forward,” she said. 

“To moving forward,” Luther repeated, and the two clinked glasses. 

Tagging: @let-the-whump-commence @pennsylvanya @uaklauslovesdave @hamdehlesmis @odrantheseeker @angel-starbeam @dykerory @rulerofturtles @milkylai @of-sunshine-and-sea @superbandnerd99 @tuafives @kalinara @challengerblue @trulyalpha @ostentatiousalibis @thingsanthoughts-on-lifeanfandom @imarealdad @sparrowchristopher @the-maidofmischief @daisyrose1966 @soaring-falcon @adelheid32  @69-octane-69 

[thecardsimagine]

for the prompt thingy: can you do angst 29 + Nadia, please? thank you,,,

29.  “It’s okay, I’ve heard/felt worse.”

@lowkeyscott Thanks for requesting! It felt like the prompt was more of a hurt/comfort thing, so I don’t know if I got it any angsty, but I hope you like it ^-^ [Promptlist here]

≿————-————- 　❈　 ————-————-≾

It wasn’t often that between you and Nadia disagreement rose.

Frankly, neither of you had reasons to disagree with the other, nor the want to do so. You two were as harmonized as an orchestra, a paragon of a couple. Never had anyone seen you two fighting, the worst being you two having a peaceful discussion over tea and snacks in the afternoon, which admittedly could become very intense but only enjoyable for the both of you.

To have either of you raise your voice at the breakfast table was something of a spectacle for the servants. By late noon, no one even knew the real trigger to the argument, the reason. It was all bundled in a big ball of hurt and problems that either of you two might have swallowed into yourselves over the time being together.

In between that, Nadia had to tend to some political matters, and you had begrudgingly let her go. It wasn’t like you, to be so hellbent on fighting with anyone, and you knew that royal duties always stood in first place for both of you. But the amount of frustration harbored inside of your body was enough to spit out words you regretted later once you were alone.

It was as stupid of a fight as could be. She asked you to attend a ball with her, and you refused, you two exploding about something irrelevant and easily solvable. And yet, there you sat, alone in the way too big residential room, pondering about it. ‘Sure, leave! Not like I need you in these times or ever!” you had called after her as she left for the meeting, only later realizing how she must have felt walking away after hearing that.

Not like this wasn’t strange for you too - fighting with her, that is. You still remembered all the times you two had fought alongside each other, with a common goal. What had happened that you two had to turn against each other instead? Was it stress? The constant being out there, talking to prominent figures and making decisions for Vesuvia, the whole city on your shoulders as it felt?

Maybe it was the long nights out of bed, the balls, talks, tending to her after she came back from a meeting. Perhaps you were lacking sleep and got irritated about that? Maybe you were missing the adventures, the hiding and playing around that you two didn’t think was necessary anymore now that she was the official ruler and you the official consort to her. Against what you two had to go through before, the reason you grew so close in the first place, your life now was monotone, even if you got to do all the things you wanted.

Yes, Nadia laid the world at your feet. The amount of books that you’d never manage to read in three lifetimes, the food varieties you would never taste without her urging, clothing, items, possibilities to practice new skills - were you intimidated by her giving you everything?

All you had in return was your time, your love, your support, and it was all she asked for. You couldn’t make her presents without checking with the treasurer if she doesn’t own that thing yet - five days in advance. And surprises were just as hard as finding out what she could really need to gift to her. It was not something Nadia asked for. She never wanted anything beside you, even if you were becoming less and less independent at the same time.

Sighing, you finally managed to clear your thoughts. The reason you were so angry simply being you didn’t want to become a pet or replaceable to her. You wanted to be equal with her, but undeniably, it was hard when she was so many classes above you.

With a troubled mind, you got up from your seat, walking over to the doors. Once she came back, you would need to tell her about how you were feeling, unless you wanted this relationship to crumble to pieces for something you two could work out. But no one said, you couldn’t try approaching it with some peace offerings of wine and cake, after all, no one knew Nadia better than you.

You were just about to step out when the door got pulled open, your feet ramming into the ground as you feared to run into the person walking in. But you tumbled, fearing to fall when two arms instinctively wrapped around you, keeping you safe. “Sorry…” you mumbled to whoever caught you, lifting your head again after your initial stumble.

“Anytime, Dearest,” Nadia chuckled, helping you up. But despite the warm words, her expression was tense, you already knew she was fighting a headache just from the look on her face. “Oh, you’re done already…” you noticed, suddenly feeling a little awkward meeting her without any further preparation.

“Yes, I kept it quick. Did you want to go out?” she asked, passing you to lay down her shawl, folding it neatly over a chair. “Oh, no, nothing like that…”

“Don’t mind me, you don’t need my allowance to go out.”

Slowly, you raised your hands at the guards who kept the door open for you, signaling them to close it, while Nadia sat down, carefully applying some peppermint oil to her temples. “About that…” you started, making your way back to her vanity, her eyes shooting up to yours in the mirrors.

“I’m really sorry about what I said, Nadia.”

Surprisingly, you had expected the words to be harder to speak, but really meaning them helped to convey them. Slowly she turned around towards you, listening to what she could see in your reflection, was still on your mind. “I think I’ve been feeling like I depend too much on you, and it makes me nothing more than a pet for the countess in comparison. But I didn’t really mean what I said…”

“Oh, Dear,” Nadia sighed, holding out her hand and making you space on the stool she sat, so you could join her, being pulled into a hug with her.

“It’s okay, I’ve heard worse. I always worry that you get bored being here and being with me, that’s why I try to give you so much. I didn’t intend to belittle you.”

“No, it’s not like-”

“Ah, ah, no arguing about who is right now,” she interrupted you, making you realize you were just about to argue that she is doing nothing wrong, taking the blame for everything. You were thankful to her that you didn’t have to shoulder even more by doing this, and that she felt the same as you when it came to responsibility. Those were all just facts. Facts that you two had never talked about before, which ultimately were both your faults.

“Somehow…” you chuckled sadly, avoiding eye contact, fearing you might not speak out the thought if you looked at her. “It was a little easier when we still were after the devil.”

Feeling her hand wrap around your fist stemmed into the stool, Nadia gave you a nod in agreement. “I feel the same way. Maybe I have pressured you too much into this very different daily routine too, we haven’t been out in a while.”

“Exactly what I was thinking too!” you chimed out, hit with a sudden euphoria. You watched her giggle over the bright smile you gave her, your hand opening up and inviting hers into a hold. “My, what a stupid argument. We still think the same, but neither wanted to say it out loud what bothered us.”

Leaning forward, you two shared a short kiss, glad to resolve the tension that stood in the room all day long. “Maybe after the ball…” you thought out loud, standing up to help her with freeing her hair, which she thanked you in relief. “We could make a short trip to Prakra? Just you and me, you know, a small adventure. Maybe… talk without having to run to meetings and everything?”

“That sounds like a lovely idea. I will try to have that arranged,” she promised, and you took a deep breath, feeling the worries fade some more from you too. It was true that not all was resolved, and it would still be burdening you until you could finally find the words to speak it all out in peace with her.

But even if it was hard to keep enduring the ballast, you’d do it, if it was for her.

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 10

The door opens and the bell rings and Peter and I both look up; the lady I’d ran into earlier on my first day in Gumption walks in and nods to Peter. Through the course of the story we’d finished breakfast and then I’d walked with Peter down to the 7-11 and he’d clocked in and started his shift while I sat on a stack of beer cases and listened, turning the voice recorder to its highest sensitivity to capture everything he was saying. I could always go back and take a transcript later if I had to, if the audio was too loud or too distorted.

Her eyes stray over me but whatever she thinks she doesn’t betray anything with her expression. I’ve reached out automatically and covered the voice recorder with my hand as soon as I heard the door open; it was an automatic action, quick as a whip, no conscious thought required, and I slide my thumb down its ridged side, click it off.

“Hey, Michelle,” Peter says.

“Hey, Peter,” she says.

He glances at his watch and whistles. “I didn’t realize it was four already.”

“Time flies when you’re having fun,” she says, a slight layer of sarcasm flavoring her words. I can feel my hackles rising but I ease myself down. Peter’s eyes flick over to me.

“Well,” he says, and I feel my mouth drop open.

“No way. You can’t be serious.”

“What?”

“You aren’t going to finish the story?”

Peter grins at me. “I have to go get ready,” he says in a soft voice. “I’ll finish telling you later.”

“Oh my god.”

“What?” he repeats.

“What the hell happens to Makado?”

“She…” he starts, and then stops. I can see a flicker of pain cross his face like the dappled back of a fish beneath a sunstruck river. My heart falls within my chest and I realize that I’m becoming far too invested to be objective, I need to take a step back. “She made it out fine,” he tells me. I don’t believe him.

Despite all of my efforts to cajole him he won’t tell me any more. He assures me that we’ll have enough time tonight, that it’s going to be a lot of sitting around and waiting while I film far-off dots moving around under the cover of darkness and that he’ll tell me then. It smells like a cop-out to me, like he just doesn’t want to get into what happened to Makado.

It’s unbelievable enough already, though, isn’t it? Amalgams and copepods and all of that stuff. I hear it and I think, oh, this is the plot to a movie. This isn’t real, it can’t be. Even though I’m only a few miles from it, even though I’m going to be going there tonight, it doesn’t feel like the Pit is a place that actually exists. It feels like somebody is pulling my leg.

Or it would, if it weren’t for the look on Peter’s face when he talks about Makado. That at least is real. Whether everything else around it is fake, I guess there’s a little kernel of doubt still sprouting in my head somewhere, the tiny eternal skeptic inside of me that isn’t willing to believe anything it can’t touch or feel or see itself.

We walk out of the 7-11 together and look at each other. Peter nods. “Same place as where you followed before. You know how to get there?”

I nod as well. “Line up the two rocks and the cactus with the setting sun and walk straight until I hit the three boulders in the dip of the hill.”

“Good memory. If you mess up you’ll be able to see us probably anyway, I’ll have my flashlight.”

“How many people are coming?”

“Besides you there’s three others, one guy from the cult for his initiation and two others who…well, you know.”

“Yeah. Was that what Erica was talking to you about the other day?”

“When she pulled up at midnight or whenever? Yeah, she was just telling me who to look out for. Because those guys want to be able to get back out again I have to give them different instructions, that kind of thing.”

I shudder in spite of myself. “Well, see you tonight.”

“See you,” he says. He turns and walks quickly away and then past the corner of the building and I am alone. I stand there for a moment and then lean up against the side of the building. The sun is hot but not terribly so and here in the shade it’s really quite a nice afternoon.

A car pulls up and turns into one of the pumps. It’s the second customer I’ve seen all day. The guy looks over at me but it isn’t anyone I know or have seen before, and after a moment he puts his card in and fills up the tank, then drives off.

I look round and, after a moment, let myself slide down the faux-brick façade of the 7-11 and stretch my legs out in front of me. My knee cracks like a gunshot as I do and I wince. I take my phone out of my pocket and dial a number and listen as the harsh buzzing tone drills one, two, three, four, five times into my ear, and then there’s a click and the answering machine picks up.

“Hi, you’ve reached Mark Dzilenski. I’m not able to take your call right now but if you leave me your name and number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks, bye.”

“Hi, dad,” I say, and I feel a wave of emotion pressing at me that I refuse to confront. I swallow. “I’m sorry our call got disconnected the other night, I think there’s something wrong with my phone. It was good hearing your voice, I’m glad you and mom are doing okay.”

I lick my lips. Alright, Roan, you’ve been very glib so far. Spit it out.

“I, uh,” I start. Come on. “I got some news the other day that I wanted to tell you, I…”

“If you are satisfied with your call, you can hang up, or press 1 for delivery options. To re-record –“

I hang up the call, and then I stand up. I rummage in my bag for a cigarette and light it, and then walk slowly back to the hotel, taking my time. I’m meeting Peter at one in the morning but my nerves are already balling around themselves in a panic. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“So what?” I ask out loud. I look over and see my distorted reflection looking back at me in the thick glass window of a closed barbershop. I look tired. “So what?” I mutter again. I look at the me in the window a little longer but I don’t like the way she looks at me so I toss my cigarette on the ground and crush it out and hurry a little more. It feels like there is a cloud looming behind me but it’s just in the sky, promising rain.

When I get back to the hotel room I unfold my laptop, dump the audio files from the voice recorder back onto it, and then I connect to the extremely rickety wi-fi network the motel offers and I look up what exactly the penalty is for trespassing on federal property. It’s not that bad, actually; a misdemeanor in all cases, at least under federal law. I don’t know if the site around the Pit is solely administered federally or if state law would also apply, though. Or would it count as trespassing on a military base? Apparently that can be a felony, if it’s important enough or if you’re being malicious about it. I do more googling around but the information I turn up is cryptic and limited. I wonder, not for the first time, if I’m putting myself on some kind of list doing this sort of research, then shake my head. Whatever.

The evening passes slowly and my nervousness doesn’t fade no matter how many cigarettes I smoke, leaned over on the wiry metal bannister, staring off into the flat, unexciting horizon. I watch television just to pass time, let Baggage and The Price is Right and Family Feud wash over me like an ocean, like waves, like I’m drowning. Am I drowning? If I were sane I think I’d feel like I were drowning.

When the time comes I put some pants on, long ones this time, shrug into my jacket, make sure I have my voice recorder and my camcorder and my slim little folding knife, more of a letter opener than anything else. I laugh at myself when I tuck it into my pocket but I still do it.

“Alright Roan,” I say to myself, staring in the mirror, sounding braver than I really feel, tucking my hair back in a ponytail. “Let’s go commit a felony.”

 * * *

 Peter raises his hand in greeting as I crest the hill and I wave back at him, click the light on my phone off and move down, join the little circle. He’d said there would be three others; two are here so far. One is a small Asian girl, so skinny it looks like she’d burst into flame if she crossed her legs too fast, and the other is a tall, heavy guy, looking like he’s in his late forties, balding hard. He has bags under his eyes and he keeps reflexively running his hands together. “Hi Lily,” Peter says to me and I blink and almost look behind myself to see if there’s someone back there, but he winks at me and I realize I’m supposed to be Lily. I wonder if there’s anything else important he’s left out.

“Hey,” I say. The Asian girl glances at me and then looks away again. Her eyes are very dark and it looks as though she’s chewing lightly on the inside of her cheek, sucking it inwards and holding it between her teeth and then letting it go again.

“This is Bao and Rey,” he tells me, indicating each of them. I nod at them.

“Hey,” I say again. “You guys, uh…excited?”

Peter shakes his head minutely and I feel faintly embarrassed, like I’ve said something I clearly shouldn’t have without realizing the taboo.

To their credit, they definitely do not look excited; nervous is more accurate. Perhaps haunted would be appropriate as well. Rey keeps glancing out into the darkness as though he can see something moving around out there; I can see his eyes focus on something and track it for a while before slipping off like a thrown egg slipping slowly down a window. I look out into the darkness as well but even though my eyes aren’t as adapted now thanks to Peter’s big utility flashlight throwing enough light to make me squint, it is very clear that there is nothing out there, nothing large enough that he’d be able to see it and track it like that.

I want to talk to him, I want to take out my recorder, I want to pry my way into his head, but I restrain myself. This is clearly not the time. The camcorder is still in my jacket pocket, the bulky night-vision attachment screwed onto its snouty muzzle already, fully charged and ready to go, but clearly I am supposed to be pretending to be one of these people. While we lapse into another uneasy silence and Peter checks his watch, I consider my new existence as Lily.

These two people are clearly so far gone that they barely recognize me as a person, let alone the deeper distinction between Roan and Lily. The way Rey keeps seeing ghosts and watching them like he’s ready to bolt or to fight, the way Bao keeps jumping at sounds none of the rest of us can hear, clearly they’re the two who are – what even is the right word? Afflicted? Who are, at least in Peter’s estimation, beyond retrieval?

I look at Bao. She’s young, maybe about my age, maybe a little younger. Twenty-two or twenty-three? Very possibly. Bao…the name sounds more Chinese than Japanese or Korean but I don’t know enough about Eastern culture to positively identify her, plus obviously there are more Asian countries than just China, Japan, and Korea. And if I’m supposed to be one of these people then should I care? Should I be getting into character?

I look again at Peter and feel a faint spark of anger at the fact that he didn’t let me know, didn’t warn me, but then I realize he didn’t really have a way to – he doesn’t have my number, and maybe this was something that resolved itself later in the afternoon after we’d parted, this need for secrecy.

I’ll draw the line at aping those nervous tics. Just watching these two is making me sad, giving me a feeling like someone’s taking hold of my heart and squeezing. It feels cruel, knowing I can do nothing.

Clearly the reason I’m Lily is because the third person, the guy from the cult, will know I’m coming, or at least will recognize my name. I think back and wonder if anybody had had a chance to take a photo of me while I was out walking around the town, but I’d have given people so many opportunities to take one without me noticing that it’s pointless to dwell on.

Surely if there was some sort of danger, if the cult knew for sure I would be here and they were perhaps willing to prevent me from coming somehow, Peter would have contacted me. He knows the motel I’m at, he might not know the room but if Erica Walken could get the phone number to it, surely Peter could have as well…right?

I toss my head, work my jaw sideways. It feels like it wants to crack but it doesn’t; I can feel the tension in the bulgy little knot of muscles down the side of my cheek. It doesn’t matter. I’m here, and I’m going in with them, cult or no cult.

There’s a crunching of feet on the dry hard earth behind us and Rey and I both turn to watch the third guy, tall and dark, making his way down the hill to us. He’s young, with a trimmed beard, and close-cropped hair. His eyes are very small; they linger on me for a moment and then flick to Rey and Bao.

“Alright,” Peter says, “everybody’s here. We’re going to be going under the fence through a hidden tunnel. It’s going to be tight so you guys are going to have to drop to your stomachs and crawl. It was going to be a waste-drainage pipe but they didn’t give the contractors they hired to do it the right plans and so it turned out that they were digging right on top of one of the power lines for the electric fence. They just left the pipe in there and put a fake rock over the entrance.”

I almost laugh when I hear that. It’s too easy. There must be a catch, mustn’t there?

“The pipe is going to let you out on the side of the patrol road inside the fence,” Peter says, looking between us. He weights his words carefully. “There should not be a patrol moving at the time that we go through,” he says, “but on the off chance that there is, whoever is in front needs to just freeze and wait, you understand?”

He looks around at us until we each nod. It takes Bao the longest but she does acknowledge, at least, that he’s speaking. “You,” he says, pointing to the guy from the cult, “your name is Marcus, right?”

“That’s right,” he says. He has a slow, deep, purposeful voice.

“You’re going to be in front. I don’t normally come in but I will be this time, I have some business to take care of inside. Me and Lily here,” he says, pointing to me, “will be in the rear. You two will be in the middle,” he says, and Rey and Bao nod, a little quicker this time.

“Once we’re inside, you’re going to be going in through a disused emergency exit that they haven’t sealed up because the Pit uses it to breathe. I’m not going to lie to you, it won’t be pleasant. It’s going to be tight, hot, smell horrendous, and it’ll be pitch-black, but it’s a one-way trip without any side branches, so just push through it and you will get through and out into the old Bronchial section. It’s been a long time since I’ve been there but all of my information says that any damage is fairly minimal and you should still be able to get through. Once you’re in, you’re on your own. If you want to come back out, take the same drainage pipe that we go in through and be careful not to cross the road right in front of a patrol. This area that we’re in, there aren’t any cameras, there’s no other detection, so as long as you look out for patrols, you’re fine. If you get caught, I don’t know you and you don’t know me. If you don’t tell them anything, the worst they can do is felony trespassing and a $500 fine. It isn’t great but it also isn’t the worst thing in the world. Understood so far?”

We all nod. My heart is beating quickly; I can hear it in my ears, a little thump reminding me that I’m really doing this, I’m really going to do it.

“Great,” Peter says. “Once you’re inside, the deeper you go the less likely it is that someone will catch you. Flip side is, the deeper you go, the more likely it is something will catch you. Anything with a sign that says ‘LVC’ or ‘Main Gullet,’ don’t go that way, you will get caught. I don’t know what you want to do down there or how long you want to do it for, doesn’t matter to me, but try not to get caught. And one more thing,” he says, looking very seriously at all of us. “Do not, under any circumstances, try to go in or out any other way than the one we’re going to take. That means do not go down to the main orifice. That is the most watched area in the entire facility and it is completely open. I know that this way isn’t great but it’s safe, easy, and it is unobserved. Everybody good?”

Once again we all nod, but I wonder whether or not Rey and Bao have really absorbed the information. Rey keeps watching things moving around in the shadows and Bao’s eyes are unfocused and glassy, and her head rocks lightly to the beat of something none of the rest of us can hear.

Peter gives instructions on how to get to the entrance, which I can now identify as being the same way as he and Makado got out during the disaster, the same breathing orifice that they’d pushed their way through four years ago.

Something about the…the enormity of it, of the thing beneath us and ahead of us and surrounding us, is getting to me. I can feel my skin prickling and a flash of heat passes over me suddenly and I nearly gasp but I contain myself. It wouldn’t do to have a panic attack right now, I tell myself, and I slowly, gradually, get myself back under control. I can feel my hands shaking at my sides and I shove them deep into my pockets. I want a cigarette.

There is finally, it seems, nothing left to talk about, no more instructions or warnings Peter can give us. He nods to himself, going over some kind of mental checklist, and then shrugs. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s go.”

 * * *

 Fifteen minutes later I’m already laughing at myself for getting so worked up over something so banal. Yeah, the other day when I followed Peter it had seemed like very serious business but here, actually making the trip myself, I can’t help but feel like it’s very small potatoes. It’s just a fence, I say to myself as we walk up to it, and then that turns into it’s just a waste drainage pipe, one that I have to shimmy through on my belly, grimacing as dust and grime gets on my nice coat, but it can’t be helped.

Peter’s behind me and Bao is ahead of me; Peter is staring at my ass, I’m sure, but then I realize that it’s pitch black in here so maybe I can give my ego a break and not assume it’s all about me. I keep having to prop myself up on my hands and knees to readjust the camcorder and make sure I’m not smashing it to bits on the hard floor of the pipe, but eventually we make it through and then we’re standing on an identical bit of hard, scrubby earth, except now we’re on the other side of the fence. As I watch, Bao, Rey, and Marcus all take off along the path, crossing it quickly and dropping down into the ditch below, and then they are just dark silhouettes making their way beneath the sharp half-moon. I get out my camcorder and flip it on and start filming them; the night-vision is really not that effective but it’s way better than just filming in the dark.

Peter clambers to his feet next to me and dusts himself off. “Well,” he says after a moment, “there they go.”

“They really don’t get caught?”

“Not usually. The ones who’re there to, you know, die to it, they go as deep as they can as quick as they can, far as I understand it, and the people with the cult tend to stay in the upper areas. There’s not very many personnel in the Pit right now so the odds of running into somebody is slim.”

I point ahead of us. “Can we go sit on that ridge? I want to get some shots of the Pit itself.”

“Sure. If a patrol comes we’ll have to duck down but it should be alright.”

We make our way across the road and down onto the ridge. I find a little flat section for us to sit on and then I pick out the three dark blobs making their way carefully up the hill. I whistle softly. “That’s the easiest way up there?”

“It is,” he says. “It doesn’t look like it but there’s a clear path, you just have to be careful of your footing.”

The figure in front stops for a moment. I can’t tell from this distance but I think it might be Bao. She stops and turns and looks across the great downward sloping crater of the Pit, and I pan the camcorder around and take a shot of it as well. I frown at the image. “That isn’t flesh down there, is it?”

“No,” Peter says. “They filled it all in with concrete. Do you see that little dark spot over there?”

I look where he’s pointing. “Yes.”

“That’s the orifice. They don’t keep it dilated as wide as they did during the park days, and the elevator is way smaller, too. There’s a little command center down in the gullet but it’s like, maybe a quarter of the size of the LVC. They’re all about minimizing impact now.”

Bao seems to be rocking unsteadily back and forth there on the trail and I turn the camera to record her. “So what happened to Makado?” I ask.

“I told you, she got out fine.”

“You know I don’t believe that.”

“It doesn’t matter if you believe it, it’s the truth.”

“Alright, can you introduce me to her, then? I’d like to meet her, or at least have a phone call.”

Peter laughs. “I really don’t think you’d want that.”

“Why not?”

He makes a little grunting noise. “I think you’d find that she ���“

“Holy shit!” I blurt. Peter jumps next to me, looks around wildly.

“What is it?”

I’ve already gotten to my feet. “Bao just fucking ran back down the trail and someone else lost their balance and fell off,” I tell him, pointing at the dark object bouncing down the cliff face towards the white concrete below. Whoever it is they’re flopping like a rag doll, and I wince with each impact. “Jesus Christ,” I say, pointlessly. Next to me, Peter curses.

“Stay here,” he tells me before hustling off into the darkness. It looks as though he’s heading for Bao; I can barely see her but it looks as though she’s collapsed against a large boulder maybe a hundred yards away at the base of the hill, her shoulders shaking.

Well, Bao’s fine. I guess. She must have lost her nerve. I turn around, peer through the screen of the camcorder. Whoever she pushed, either Marcus or Rey, he’s reached the bottom by now and slumped into a huddled pile at the bottom of the crater. I can see one limb extended out limply like an exclamation point. I look back at Bao; Peter’s reached her and is hunched down next to her, trying to get her to move. She’s hugging her legs to her chest and I can see her shaking her head frantically. Did she do it on purpose? I didn’t see the whole thing but it looked like she just panicked.

When I turn back to Rey I can see him moving, trying to get up. “Oh fuck,” I say. He pushes himself up on his hands and then his arm gives out and he falls and lays there. I can just barely see, through the camcorder, his chest rising and falling. “Goddam it,” I say to myself, and then I fold up the camcorder and stuff it back into my jacket pocket, and then I get up and start to carefully pick my way down the heavy rocky incline of the crater lip.

 * * *

 I’m scared. I’m not ashamed to admit it, I’m terrified. I’m scared that someone is going to see me, is going to see whoever it is at the bottom, Rey or Marcus, and roll up with the black helicopters and take me wherever the Men in Black take you. It’s an insane, worthless fear but I still feel it. About half of me wants to bolt and run, scurry my way back into that drainage pipe and out and never look back, but I look at the lump ahead of me, hardly even seeming to be a person, no matter how beat up, and I see him again trying to rise and again falling and then I’m down there with him, my ankle aching from where I stepped wrong and very slightly rolled it, and I get down on my knees next to him. “Hey,” I say, “I’m here, it’s okay.”

He’s muttering in anguished Spanish to himself and I have to repeat myself a few times before he cracks his eyes open, his face dirty, blood from a cut above his eyebrow seeping down and stinging at his eye. He says something to me in Spanish and I trot out the little I know. “No entiendo,” I say, “Uh. Habla ingles?”

“Yeah,” he coughs. “You’re – Lily?”

“My name is Roan actually. Are you okay? Can you stand?”

“Rowan?”

“Roan. Like the horse. My parents were hippies.”

He looks at me like I’m speaking Greek and I might as well be. I put my hand out. “Can you stand?” I ask again, and he takes it. I help him pull himself up but his leg buckles beneath him and he lets out a cry of pain that echoes in the deserted Pit, bouncing off the soft white concrete expanse.

“I think I broke it,” he says. “Oh god.”

He’s staring around again, wilder than before. I look around in spite of myself but as I knew there would be there’s nothing there. I reach into my pocket and click the voice recorder on.

“What do you see?” I ask him.

“You don’t see them?”

“No, I can’t,” I shake my head. “What are they?”

That gets his attention and he tears his eyes from whatever vision he can see cavorting around us. He looks at me closely. “You don’t…you don’t see them?”

“No.”

“Oh,” he says, sounding disappointed. He tries to rise again but I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Wait,” I tell him. “Your leg must be broken, we can’t –“

“I’m so close,” he says. His eyes are wild now, and fixed on me. Before I can take a step back he’s thrown his weight towards me awkwardly and grabbed my arm. His hands are sweaty. “You have to help me.”

“Put your arm around me,” I tell him, crouching down. He’s heavy enough that I don’t know whether I’ll really be able to help much, but if I get on the same side as his hurt leg I can at least make sure he doesn’t have to put weight on it. The hard part will be getting up again –

Rey cries out again and I wince. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “This is going to be rough but we have to get you up.”

“No,” he says, leaning on me. His face is pale now, his mouth tight and drawn with the effort.

“No?” I ask. “Come on, we need to leave like right now –“

“No,” he repeats, one shaking finger extended out ahead of us. He’s pointing to the tall gantry of the elevator down into the Pit. “We have to go there,” he says. “I have to –“

“Absolutely not,” I tell him. “We have to go –“

But he is starting forward towards the gantry and I curse and walk with him, because if I don’t he’ll fall, he’ll cry out again, he’ll fucking crawl on his hands and knees over to the goddam gantry, I can see it in his eyes, I know he will without even wondering how I know, and even though the lurching pace we set is clearly causing him pain, he urges me forward without any regard for his leg, hanging uselessly at his side, the foot jostling along the concrete every now and then and making him groan, a low deep animal noise that makes me feel as though I’m going to be sick.

We make it about halfway before a deep, rumbling alarm starts somewhere and ratchets up to a screech and all the lights click on and turn the night to day. All the strength seems to leave my body; I almost collapse. “Oh fuck,” I say.

“Come on,” he says. I glare at him; I’m sweating, the tight grip he has around my shoulders is starting to hurt, and he isn’t exactly slim. It’s taking all of my effort to keep him upright and walking and I am so close to just dropping him. I give him a dirty look and try to summon up my willpower, every single ounce of meanness and cruelty in my body and just twist out of his grasp and let him fall, but I can’t do it.

“Goddam it, Rey,” I tell him. “It’s a fucking elevator, they won’t let you on, there aren’t going to be stairs you can go down.”

“Come on,” he says again. The closer we get to the orifice the deader his voice gets. He keeps looking over his shoulder but there isn’t anything there, at least not yet; a pair of headlights are cresting the ridge and I can see people piling out of what looks like a Humvee but they aren’t anywhere close to us yet.

I reflect, briefly, on how useless this venture is; we probably could have gotten away if Rey hadn’t insisted on coming down here to peer down an empty elevator shaft. And if I hadn’t had such a damn big heart I could have gotten away, at least. Felony trespassing; well, I have the money for the fine, at least, but that’s got to be at least a year in federal prison, nothing to sneeze at. Maybe they have special accommodations for sick people? At the very least once I tell all of the prison lesbians what’s wrong with me they’ll –

“YOU TWO DOWN ON THE EXCLUSION PLATE!” a tremendous voice yells down at us through a megaphone. I nearly jump out of my skin but somehow manage to keep ahold of Rey. “STOP WHERE YOU ARE OR WE WILL SHOOT!”

I stop but Rey keeps going. “Rey, stop,” I tell him, but he doesn’t pay any attention to me. We’ve gotten far enough now that the end is in sight, the gantry is maybe twenty or thirty feet ahead of us and the yawning hole in the concrete is visible, but I can’t see inside it, not from this angle. “Rey!” I yell, but he pushes me back and I stumble to my knees. Rey breaks into a shambling run, or tries to anyway, but his leg simply is too hurt for him to put any weight on it. He nearly falls but he catches himself and bounces back up.

The first gunshot is unbelievably loud, even though it seems to come from a mile away. I hear it crack and I scream and fall down to my knees, my shoulders cringing together without any conscious effort on my part. I can see a spray of concrete splinters rising at Rey’s feet like shrapnel, and I realize the shot missed. He’s nearly there. I don’t know what he wants to achieve. I throw my jacket off and wrestle with the pocket, pull out the camcorder as quickly as I can force my shaking hands to operate, and snap it open so quickly I nearly break it. I start filming just in time to see the third, fourth, and fifth bullets bury themselves in him, two in his shoulder and one in his thigh. I cry out again but Rey is utterly silent. He’s down on his hands and knees but he tries to rise, and then another bullet catches him, this time in the back of the head, and he is down for good, and I realize that I’m crying, even while I’m trying very hard to keep the camcorder steady to get the shot of Rey’s supine body, one hand extending forward, reaching for the edge of the orifice, just ten feet away from him, a shocking red spray of arterial blood staining the concrete ahead of him like a punctuation.

Then two pairs of hands catch me under the shoulders and haul me to my feet and someone takes away my camcorder and they shove my head into a hood and then I can’t see. They force my hands together behind my back and handcuff me and I want to say something witty, quip something vaguely salacious like ‘easy boys, get to know me first before you get out the handcuffs’ but I can’t make my voice work the way it ought to and I’m still crying and shaking and I realize as they half carry half drag me to some kind of vehicle and fold me into it that I’ve wet myself, and any sort of bravery I might have been able to muster disintegrates into a painful, sharp-edged mass of shame and fear and embarrassment and a feeling not unlike I’m falling, like what I thought was just a rabbit hole has turned into a bottomless pit.

Continue with Part 11

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[devintrinidad]

Charlastor Week #5: Date

“Why, pray tell, are we here again?” Alastor fingered his binoculars as he gazed at the scene below them. On his face, his usual smile was pinched and wavered so slightly when he caught a glance of something that he would rather not look at. “From what I can see, our presence is not needed.”

“Because,” Charlie stressed as she, too, adjusted the binoculars that rested on her eyes. “We need to make sure that Angel Dust is okay.”

Alastor sighed and set his binoculars to rest on his chest, the straps of the binocular allowing him to do so. He tapped Charlie lightly on the shoulder, careful to not allow his claws to accidentally dig into her clothing.

“I may not be the most knowledgeable concerning…. whatever this is, but I assume our neighborhood spider knows what he’s doing. After all, doesn’t he do this for a living?” He gestured towards the aforementioned spider demon who, if one were to look closely, was smiling contently in the presence of another. “I know that you’re worried about your first patient, but isn’t this an invasion of privacy?”

Charlie fumbled for words as she tried to justify what she was doing. On one hand, she truly cared for Angel. She loved him like a brother and she knew that he felt the same for her. It had taken a while, a few years in fact, but Angel went from outright sabotaging gangster to a harmless, annoying prankster. His tendencies for evil were curbed and he was, for the lack of a better word, almost angelic. Perhaps this year, he would be eligible for an appointment from a few angels from Heaven. Of course, it would be a slow process, but Charlie knew that he had it in him. As for this current situation, well…

Could you blame Charlie for being so careful? She didn’t want Angel to be corrupted by the common sinner or worse, she didn’t want him to get his heart broken after months of therapy about his self-esteem and purpose in life.

Therefore, it was up to Charlie and whoever was willing to help her, to make sure that Angels’ progress was heavily monitored.

In this case, they were monitoring Angel’s date with a newbie who had fallen into Hell only a few weeks ago.

“Come on, Al! I thought you were all for entertainment no matter how unethical it may seem.”

“That, my dear, applies to murder, cannibalism, and general discontent. This,” he grandly gestured to the scene below, “is trivial, and frankly, disturbing.” His eyes widened in disbelief as he adjusted the clarity of the binoculars’ lenses. “What are they doing with their mouths?”

Charlie gasped and did the same. “Oh my gosh!!!” She squealed with happiness. “They’re kissing and they look so happy together and—“

Alastor clapped a hand over her mouth, which caused Charlie to look up at him in question.

“Careful, dearest. Do you really want all of Pentagram City to know that you’re stalking one of your patients? I may not care about the hotel’s main theme, but it would hinder our business.”

“Ugggghhhh, fine, “ she answered, though her voice was heavily muffled by the hand that was held over her mouth. She pushed Alastor’s hand away from her own before magicking her binoculars into a pocket dimension for safe keeping. “Since it appears our presence isn’t needed, what do you want to do?”

“The Princess of Hell in want of something to do, with me, the infamous Radio Demon? Why—“ He placed a clawed hand over his heart, a mocking look on his face. “—I haven’t felt like swooning ever since my mother last pinched my cheeks!”

“Har de har har.” Without warning, Charlie took hold of Alastor’s elbow and steadily guided him in the opposite direction of Angel’s date. All the while, she ignored how Alastor’s radio static gradually began to feel less like a radio tuning into different channels and more like a satanic ritual gone wrong.

There was a lot of screaming and moaning of the damned.

“Lighten up, Alastor!” Charlie tugged him even closer as their footsteps went from a casual stroll to outright running. “This is gonna be fun!”

Alastor’s smile tightened in annoyance.

~~~

“When I said that entertainment applied only to murder, cannibalism, and general discontentment, I didn’t mean that the general discontentment should apply to me.”

“I don’t know… I feel like this is plenty entertaining.”

“My dear, I’ve lured hordes of demons into the pitch darkness of insanity just by hearing my broadcasts. Don’t assume that you are the sole exception.”

Much to his dismay, instead of the fear that Alastor craved, Charlie merely nodded at his little spiel and politely—politely!—booped him on the nose.

Twice.

Charlie and Alastor were seated at a small cafe that Vaggie and Charlie used to frequent before life at the hotel became too hectic. Inside, there were demons that were punished for lower level sins: theft, suicide, being a disturbance to the rest of society, etc. The patrons were often undisturbed and polite, at least when compared to the rest of the denizens of Hell. In fact, when the hotel had first opened, most of those who had frequented this establishment had actually gave a thought into joining the redemption business. Not all were redeemed, however, but everyone was in a work in progress.

As it were, Charlie was entranced by the newer additions on the menu while Alastor was nursing a mug of black coffee. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, his feet tapped nonsensically on the hardwood flooring, and his smile was strained at best.

“I feel like I want to order,” Charlie announced as she snapped the menu shut. She assessed Alastor’s position and the fact that his menu was busy acting like a coaster for his coffee. Like always, his eyes were trained on hers—creepy, but not as much as when they had first met. “What say you, Al?”

He gave a long suffering sigh before gesturing towards the soup section on his menu. “Probably not the most palatable of choices, but it will have to do.”

“Food snob,” Charlie lightly teased. “You won’t like it until you try it.”

He arched an eyebrow, his foot ceasing its tapping. “Does that apply to this situation?”

“Kind of? Look, it’s been a while since we’ve had some downtime without business hanging over our heads. Why not just have some fun for a couple hours before we start filing our taxes and whatnot.” Charlie stirred in some sugar into her tea and inhaled the inviting aroma. “I mean, if Angel can go on a date, then why not us?”

Alastor’s radio static, which had been a low murmur for the majority of time they had been staying at the cafe—at Charlie’s request, of course—suddenly stopped. The dead silence, which had been foreign to Charlie ever since the Radio Demon had shown up at her door, had most of the patrons that were brave enough to withstand the Radio Demon’s presence running. However, Charlie had been more than acquainted with Alastor at this point—at this point, they could be considered friends—and she simply took another calming sip of her tea. Gone were the days where she felt socially awkward and shy around her dear friend. A perturbed Alastor was still an Alastor that didn’t have the means to hurt her. She was too powerful for that, anyway.

Besides, Alastor looked like he had sucked on the world’s sourest lemon than angry.

Which was obviously a big improvement.

“Would you care to repeat that, Charlie?”

“Fine. I’ll rephrase it.” Charlie leaned forward into Alastor space, causing him to jerk backward and away from her. The radio silence continued and Charlie couldn’t help but smirk at Alastor’s… lack of bravado. “You. Me. On a date. Now.”

Alastor blanched at that and for a moment, Charlie almost felt bad.

But this was Hell, she was the Princess of all of Hell, and she would be damned if she didn’t feel a little vindicated for all the times that Alastor had scared her in the past. Revenge was sweet whenever she was serving it.

Soon, the usual radio static resumed, although it sounded like he was flipping through channels before settling on something that sounded like slow jazz.

“Trying to lift the mood?”

“Were you requesting that we go on a date right now or…” Alastor almost sounded embarrassed. He fiddled with the tie that was wound tight against his throat and his ears, cute little things they were, had lain flat against his head. “… are we already on one?”

“Depends. You get to decide. Either way, we are going to enjoy ourselves.” With that note of finality, Charlie turned back to her tea and enjoyed the sweetness that settled gently against her tongue.

Alastor’s ear’s seemed to shudder against his head before he, too, took a sip of his preferred drink.

“A date.” He shook his head at that colloquialism, a disturbed look on his features. “Back in my day, we would call it courting and it was usually the gentleman coaxing the dame and not the other way around.”

Charlie shrugged. “It’s the twenty-first century and counting. You either get with the times or you’ll eventually be left in the dust.” She giggled quietly to herself. In a voice no louder than a mouse’s whisper, she said, “I’m older than you, but you’re acting like an old man.”

Alastor’s ears twitched in irritation. “I heard that, dear.”

“I would be surprised if you didn’t. Now, about that date?”

“I should have known that you wouldn’t forget.” Alastor drummed his fingers atop the table. The jazz that was playing in the background seemed to grow  little distorted and erratic the faster that Alastor continued his little drumming session until—

“I suppose we might as well make the most of our time spent right in the here and now.” He still looked a little perturbed, but the jazz had returned and the smile that was on his face was one of gentle consideration. He had agreed. “But please, nothing untoward and violating the five—“

“The five foot rule,” Charlie chimed in, looking like she had won a million dollars worth of gold. “Don’t worry, Al! I got your back! It’s not like I would make you do anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

“This farce of a date says otherwise.” Voice dry, Alastor hummed a few bars of an old musical number he heard when he was a boy and proceeded to stand from his seat. Any demons that had not left the vicinity began to run out the doors or fall unconscious to the ground—staff included. “However, I suppose that I must bend one of my rules just this once.”

A little worried that she may have pushed his buttons a little farther and harder than what was necessary, Charlie also stood up—albeit, a little too hastily so that her seat toppled to the ground.

“Alastor, what are—“

He took both of her hands in his and smiled a smile that was fit for one of the most mischievous imps in all of Hell.

“What is a date without a little entertainment?” He whistled low under his breath and immediately, there was a change in lighting, scenery, and even the table that they had occupied appeared to be heavily laden with food. “Care for a dance, my dear?”

Charlie looked in awe at their arrangements before pulling in Alastor close so that their bodies were flush with each other. She could feel both of their bodies melding into each other as their feet seemed to know what to do.

“It would be my pleasure, Alastor.”

[cafeinthemoon]

Purple Dragon - Chapter 1

Title: Purple Dragon

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: none yet

Rating: teen and up

Word count: 2405

Chapter: 1/?

Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 💛 | ▶️ | ▶️

Warnings: canon divergence, past trauma and other stuff in the next chapters, but the appropriate warnings will be included 👍

N. A.: God I'm so happy and nervous at the same time bc this is my first bnha fic! 🥺 Just binge watched 3 seasons in less than a week and now I'm reluctant to finish season 4 and face bnha hangover so I'm probably don't know exactly what I'm doing here, but here we go! Yay!

Chapter 1 - American Girl

The morning outside the U.A.’s building was so quiet that Midoriya Izuku would never believe that all the disturbance he heard once he walked into it was possible. A confusion of whispered words, exclamations of surprise and excitement and muffled laughs came from his classroom, at some point of the corridor through which he was walking now, and seemed to meet him as a morning greeting.

Well, soon he noticed that some of his friends were actually coming to greet him besides the noise, their faces showing the exact expression he would expect from what he heard. Uraraka Ochacho reached him first, her big eyes shinning as if she was proud of herself for being the first one to speak to the newcomer.

- Good morning, Deku-kun! – she showed the boy her best smile – I think you’re going to regret not coming earlier today!

Midoriya was not regretting anything at the moment. In fact, meeting Uraraka before anyone else at school was not something about which he would complain: the warmth that always came up to his cheeks when he put his eyes on her was both embarrassing and comforting, if such thing was possible. The only problem was that he used to struggle to pay attention to anything around him or to control his actions every time this happened, and that was his precise situation at that time.

- G-good morning, Uraraka-san – he heard his own voice as if it belonged to someone else, the words coming out by themselves – What are you talking about?

The girl took a breath and was about to spread the news, but another voice was heard behind her.

- Oh, Midoriya! Good morning! I suppose you already know by now... we are going to meet a new classmate today!

Iida Tenya, with his composed manners, joined them with that discreet smile he believed to be appropriate for a class representative to express how excited he was with the arrival of another student at the heroes’ course, but both Midoriya and Uraraka knew that more than any of their friends he was urging to meet the new aspiring hero.

Uraraka’s face was now red and her lips were closed so tight that she could suffocate. Maybe she was irritated by Iida’s interruption or something, but whatever the case that was how he saw things, and he started to apologize in his well known way.

- I am so sorry for my rude behavior, Uraraka-san! – he bent down at her, his arms glued to the sides of his body, his head almost touching the floor – Please, tell Midoriya the whole story and I will not open my mouth until you are finished! This is a promise!

While the girl was doing her best to convince Iida that she wasn’t offended at all, Midoriya was still a bit lost with all that information coming to him at once. He started to walk toward the class as the others followed him.

So we are going to have a new classmate soon, right?

- Yes! – Uraraka have completely forgotten all the irritation with the urge to speak – According to what I’ve heard, her name is Ryu and she just came from the United States. Well, actually she was born in Japan but her family moved to the United States when she was little, so this makes her almost a foreigner – she clenched her fists – It’s unbelievable! She can communicate in both Japanese and English, if what I’ve heard is correct. She must be a very smart person. At least we will be able to talk to her, and she might help us during English lessons! Isn’t it fantastic, Deku-kun?

Midoriya smiled, for the first time contemplating the idea of having a new classmate, and one who came from such a distant place as the United States.

- Yes, that’s amazing. But where is she?

This time, Iida, back to his composed attitude, didn’t see any problem in taking the floor:

- She’s talking to Aizawa sensei right now, but nobody can enter the room. Apart from what Uraraka said, we don’t have much more information about her. We don’t even know what type of quirk she has. We will have to wait until she is officially introduced to us.

They stopped at the classroom’s entry when Midoriya questioned how they got the little information they just spread. The answer to this came from the first person who greeted them at the door.

- We got a little help in this! – the pink, round face of Mina Ashido popped out in front of the trio with a smile that could be both of joy and embarrassment; she pointed her thumb to someone behind her back – Shouji kind of refused to collaborate, so fortunately we had Jirou by our side – and lowering her tone – She was dying to gather as much information as she could, but if you say that to her, she will deny, of course.

Midoriya pointed his finger to Jirou.

- So you asked her to listen behind the door?

Mina’s cheeks passed from pink to red in an instant. Jirou was not so close from the group to hear what was being said, but she looked away as to avoid additional questions. Midoriya looked at Iida and Uraraka seeking for a confirmation; it came in the form of clenched fists and lips bitten.

At the bottom of the class, there were more people who weren’t willing to discuss the bad habit of listening private conversations when such important events were about to take place: Kaminari was wondering if the new student’s quirk was similar to his; Kirishima, with his sharp smile at sight, agreed that it would be quite an experience if it happened; Sero was arguing that her quirk would be more impressive if it resembled his own; Mineta, lost in his own thoughts, didn’t say a word, but it would be no surprise if he was questioning himself about the girl’s physical attributes.

Though he could understand his classmates’ feelings, Midoriya couldn’t say he relate to the way in which they express their interest in the new girl. On his side, it was better not to create great expectations and let the facts surprise him by themselves. Maybe that was the opinion of some of the students who kept quiet in the middle of that noise, like Tsuyu Asui and Momo Yaoyorozu, engaged in a private and calm talking.

The only ones who seemed to have no particular interest in meeting the mysterious girl were Todoroki and Kacchan, the first one, with a book open in front of him, too concentrated in his own things to give his surroundings any attention, the second too irritated with all the mess to say anything.

***

Moments before

There were enough seats for at least ten people to occupy in that room, as well as a good space between each of them, but waiting in one of them somehow was not possible for Ryu Murasaki. There was something in the silence of those four walls that would not let her nerves relax. Was it the fact that she haven’t enough rest before attending to the U.A.’s call or was it the lack of time to process the fact that she was back in the country from where she moved at three? It wasn’t possible to tell, and neither she wanted to think about it. Not now.

The only thing Ryu could wish for now was the noise of her own thoughts to diminish. In normal circumstances, this could be reached while she would stand beside a window and just stare at the things outside, but now it didn’t seem to work though she has been in front of the room’s large windows for about ten minutes.

That was the funny thing about all of this: nothing under her sight – the morning sky out there, the trees, the school’s gates – was out of place. Yet not everything felt right. Ryu sighed; it was not so easy to stop projecting one’s impressions in lifeless things.

The door was opened at the opposite side of the room and she turned her neck toward it. A man entered the place without making a sound. He closed it behind his back and came to the center of the room, still in silence. Ryu has no great familiarity with the habits of the people there, but it was easy to suppose that she had to leave her spot and approach to greet him.

The man, tall and all dressed in black, carried a white fabric stripe wrapped around his neck, too thin and too long to be called a scarf. Was it an eccentricity of him or something else? There was no way to find out. This dress code was not the only unusual thing noticed by her: his hair, black and falling in waves around his shoulder and over his forehead, almost hiding his eyes, seemed to have grown for a long time without the interruption of a regular cut, and the same situation applied to his beard, all dark dots growing out the pale skin of his face. Everything in his appearance and presence reminded of tiredness and silence. Ryu didn’t try to guess what type of quirk he had, but she was convinced that it had something to do with put people to sleep.

The man’s greeting was simple.

- Good morning. You must be Ryu Murasaki, the girl who we are supposed to receive as our new student in the heroes course. According to what was sent to us, you were born in japan, but your parents moved to the United States with you when you were younger than five. So you manifested your quirk while you lived there.

The girl nodded.

- And thanks to your dual nationality, you are also fluent in English and Japanese.

- Yes.

His tone, low and slow, fitted him: it was not what she would call encouraging, so no question was made and he just kept speaking.

- I apologize for not giving enough time to rest after your long travel to Japan. My name is Shouta Aizawa and I am the teacher of 1 A Class, of which you are going to be part of. I’ve received some information about your quirk and your history, and what I can say is that it is something different from what I’ve seen in my years of experience as a hero and a teacher. So I’d like to hear an explanation from you. Can you give me details about your quirk?

Ryu felt warm sweat gathering in her palms and between her fingers. Speaking about her quirk always brought her the same sensation she thought she would have if someone asked her to take her clothes off in front of a crowd. Among the replies she had for that type of question was running away or hiding part of the answer.

This latter was what she tried to do at that time.

- I can… do things with my mind. I think of something I want to do and materialize my thought thanks to the energy I’m able to gather in my hands.

The next question came as no surprise after a short explanation like that.

- Can you show me how you do it?

Ryu swallowed. She looked around and found a small vase upon a table. When she raised her hand toward it, a purple, moving shade surrounded her fingers at the same time it manifested in the object’s surface; one movement from Ryu’s hand and the vase floated above the table. After a moment, she used the same delicacy to put it back in its place, and the purple shade finally disappeared from it and from her hand.

That was enough for now. It had to be enough…

- Is this everything you can do today?

The question hit her like a slap on her face.

- What do you mean, Aizawa-sensei?

- According to your history, you are currently able to modify, hide or destroy things with your quirk. However, instead of using your skills to change the object’s configuration , you just choose to make it float.

- And what’s the problem with it? – she interrupted.

Though his tone didn’t alter, something in his eyes intensified when Aizawa replied this time. Ryu didn’t like that.

- I hope you understand that I need to know exactly what you can do. It seemed that the best way to get an answer from you was by talking, but apparently I was deceived.

And what if I have my reasons to not talk to a stranger? was the first thing that came as an answer. But the words never came to her tongue. What she was supposed to say to that? Didn’t that man have no consideration at all?

Well, maybe not.

- Ryu Murasaki, activate your quirk and try to attack me now.

The girl took a step back without realizing it.

- You… You cannot be serious!

The silence Aizawa gave her as reply showed that yes, he was serious. Ryu had no choice. The purple energy appeared on her hand for the second time, more intense, faster in its swirling. She raised her hand and tried not to think of the results when she blasted the shade at his direction… and nothing happened.

She looked at the teacher and saw his hair floating above his head, while a reddish glimmer covered his pupils. She dropped her hand at the same time his hair and eyes went back to normal. The air in the room, suddenly disturbed with the conflict, was calm again. Ryu opened her mouth and closed it again, unable to speak, but the latent question was in her eyes. What did you just do?

- I forgot to mention, but I am also known as my hero name, Eraserhead. You must know what it means.

So, Aizawa’s quirk is to erase other people’s power. The fact that he was a teacher to aspiring heroes was suggesting, then. When she looked at him again, something assuring was perceived in his monotone traits.

- Overthinking your situation won’t help you at all. I know it seems too much to ask this from you now, but trust the U.A.’s program and you new teacher. As long as you are here, there’s nothing to worry about.