#but I didn't want to pull all of them from the same chapter

[makingfanfictionstosleep]

defying fate

a/n : love and deepspace au | reverse-harem | mature and explicit | MDNI — not for kids | lads boys x femreader | read at your own risk | story masterlist : love and deepspace

*** this chapter is very explicit ***

previous ... next

CHAPTER 11 : PROJECT LUMIERE (PT5)

A heavy silence filled the aftermath, broken only by the distant sounds of the crumbling base. It was Sylus who finally spoke, his voice low and firm.

"We need to move," he commanded, his eyes scanning the destruction around you. "This place is no longer safe."

Then, Xavier turned to you. His hands, still tentative from his confusion, were soft but intensely curious, lightly caressing your cheek as if this was the very first time he had ever touched you. The intimacy of it, despite the chaos of his mind, sent a shiver through you.

He began to speak, his voice a strained whisper.

"I'm still so confused about everything," he admitted, his eyes searching yours for answers, for something to ground him, "but… I'm starting to remember. Pieces of it."

Then he said it, the words you didn't want to hear.

"I need time." He paused, his gaze sweeping across Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb, and Zayne… then back to you. "I can't understand how my future self agreed to be in… this kind of setup."

His eyes met yours again, and the raw emotion in them was undeniable.

"But I feel an intense pull towards you. I know it's not just the memories implanted on me. It's… something like fate."

You immediately took his large hand, nuzzling your cheek against its warmth, desperately clinging to him.

"Please," you pleaded, the word torn from your throat, "don't leave me again."

But Xavier stopped you, his gaze firm, a profound sadness in his eyes. He gently pulled his hand away.

"I need time," he repeated, "to wrap my head around everything. All of it."

And then, the world seemed to stop when he kissed you.

His lips were soft, unexpectedly tender, but firm with an unshakeable resolve. You kissed him back with everything you had, pouring all your longing, your heartbreak, your desperate hope into that single, fleeting connection.

Then he pulled away, his eyes holding yours for one last, agonizing moment.

He promised, his voice barely audible over the distant rumble of the collapsing base, "I will be back. Hopefully more put together. With a better understanding of what my future self intended for me to be."

And then he was gone in a second, vanishing with a silent surge of his ability, leaving behind only the ghost of his touch and the aching void in your chest.

You didn't even have enough time to truly process it when Caleb’s strong arms suddenly grabbed you, hauling you against his solid chest. You were all leaving the crumbling place, Sylus's Evol turning the very ground to dust behind you, obliterating all kinds of evidence.

And you all came home to the mansion, intact, but with an undeniable, heart-wrenching absence. No Xavier with you.

No one said a word.

Caleb kept you in his arms, his hold possessive and comforting, carrying you straight to his private bath, while you assumed the rest did the same, retreating into their own spaces to process the tumultuous events.

Caleb took care of you with a silent understanding, his large hands gentle, knowing exactly what you needed without a single word.

You were pliant, lost, confused, and heartbroken, unsure where things had gone wrong.

He meticulously cleaned the small scratch Xavier had left, his touch lingering, a silent promise of protection. He then carefully washed your hair, his strong fingers massaging your scalp until you almost dozed off, the scent of his body wash filling your senses.

"My good girl," he murmured against your wet hair, his lips brushing your temple, "You did so well. Always so brave, pipsqueak."

You didn't know how long time passed, lost in the hazy warmth of the bath, the comforting quiet of Caleb’s presence.

But you eventually realized you were on your own bed, as Caleb gently deposited you onto Zayne's lap. Sylus immediately leaned in, his fingers lightly caressing your cheeks with deep concern, his thumb stroking your lower lip, while Rafayel, ever the empath, massaged your hand, his touch surprisingly gentle, tracing the lines of your palm.

Nobody still said a word. But the tension in the air was thick, charged, almost crackling. It wasn't just raw lust, but something deeper, something intensely possessive, fiercely protective, something profound and passionate, born from shared danger and an aching need to fill the void Xavier left.

It was something you all needed desperately: release.

Zayne started it, peppering soft, tender kisses on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

"Let us take care of you, beautiful," he murmured, his voice a low, steady rumble that vibrated through your bones.

Sylus closed in, his lips finding yours in a deep, hungry kiss, his presence overwhelming and grounding. "Mine," he growled against your mouth, a possessive declaration, "All ours."

Rafayel leaned over your hand, his lips brushing each of your knuckles tenderly, his touch electric. "Such a brave, clever little fish," he whispered, then trailed his tongue up your wrist, sending shivers through you.

Caleb trailed hot, possessive kisses along your legs and thighs, his touch staking a silent claim. "My good girl, so ready for all of us."

Rafayel murmured softly, his voice a low, seductive rumble against your ear. "Let go, gorgeous." His words were a command, a plea. "Just feel. Stop thinking about anything else. He'll be back soon."

His hand found your chin, tilting your head back as his tongue expertly traced the sensitive skin of your neck, making you gasp.

"You're so desperate for us, aren't you? Such a good, obedient slut, opening for us."

You whimpered, a new wave of arousal washing over you at the raw, forbidden word.

Zayne, sensing the shift, traced the word 'slut' on your inner thigh with his finger, his eyes darkening as he watched your reaction, a new understanding dawning in his calm gaze.

As their kisses grew hotter, more insistent, their hands slowly peeled away your clothes, then their own.

You reeled into their touches, your fingers tangling in whoever's soft locks, your lips locked in a passionate, hungry kiss with one, then another. Your skin became a canvas worshipped by their hands and tongues, each touch a reassurance, each lick a promise of devotion.

You felt Zayne's large, strong hands on your waist, then trailing down your thighs, guiding you, a silent promise of the penetration to come.

"You're so wet for us, aren't you, princess?" he whispered, his thumb tracing the swollen flesh between your legs.

Sylus continued to kiss you, his tongue delving deep, asserting his dominance. Your hand instinctively squeezed the hard bulge under his pants, a silent invitation that made him groan against your mouth. "Need you around me, kitten," he rasped, his voice rough with desire.

Rafayel, with a predatory glint in his eyes, spread your legs wider, his tongue a blazing fire as it covered your seeping core, tasting your readiness, sending shivers through you. "Just like a pearl, ready to be plundered," he purred, and you arched into him shamelessly.

Caleb, meanwhile, maneuvered himself, his low grunts filling your aroused senses as you pumped your tiny hands on his massive, ready length. "Such a greedy girl, pipsqueak. Wanting all of us inside you, don't you? That's right, be a good little slut for your men."

A profound shudder ran through you at Caleb’s words, your hips bucking instinctively.

It wasn't long before Rafayel, with his skillful tongue and precise movements, brought you to a shattering climax, your body arching, gasping for air, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

"There, little fish. All for me."

Before you could even recover, Sylus replaced him, pushing his hard length deep inside you, pulling you from the embrace of the others, making you ride his strong, unrelenting rhythm, burying himself in you. He watched your face intently, his gaze possessive, pushing deeper with each thrust.

"Feel me, kitten. All of me. You're so tight, so good, made for this."

Zayne's hands immediately spread your ass, his fingers, coated with his saliva, expertly probing your other entrance, preparing you.

"You're ours to claim, completely," he murmured, his voice a dark promise.

Not long after, he replaced his fingers with his own length, a deep, satisfying stretch, making you moan shamelessly on Rafayel's or Caleb's cock, both taking turns in filling your mouth, their bodies pressed intimately against yours.

"Take it, take all of us, you greedy little thing," Caleb growled as you choked on his length, his hips grinding against yours from the side.

It was a delicious, beautiful mess, bodies shifting, limbs entangled, cocks filling you full, your mind utterly consumed by your men, by the overwhelming sensations, each orgasm ripping through you, leaving you breathless and desperate for more.

Yet, even in the throes of ecstasy, thoughts lingered longingly on Xavier, a bittersweet pang, as you imagined him joining this whole, obscene fiasco of pleasure, making it complete, making your tangled fates whole.

You nestled between Sylus's and Rafayel's strong arms and chests, letting your body drift into a much-needed sleep. Your heart ached for Xavier, but a profound sense of hope, rather than despair, filled you. You held onto his promise of return—after all, none of your men had ever broken a promise before.

Zayne and Caleb decided to retire to their own quarters after they nursed a glass of whiskey and unpacked the intense events of the day, meticulously ensuring that their covers were not blown after EVER pursued you. Caleb was able to confirm that they were indeed safe from immediate exposure.

Zayne sat beside Caleb in one of the high kitchen stools, a glass of amber whiskey in hand. They were both exhausted, but not as utterly spent as Sylus, Rafayel, and you. The silence between them was comfortable, not awkward, as they had known each other (along with you) since childhood, a silent understanding passing between them.

Yet, Zayne broke the silence, his scientific curiosity overriding his fatigue.

He asked Caleb about the Toring chip, wanting to know more about how to bypass it medically. Caleb replied that it was possible to remove it, but it might damage his brain entirely, "unless there's a way to bypass it, just like what was done with Xavier."

Zayne nodded in understanding, sipping on his drink. He didn't reveal that the future Xavier had indeed found a way to do it, but there was still little information on how to approach it without risking severe damage.

Zayne contemplated the situation, knowing that they needed to secure Xavier first before approaching Caleb's Toring chip. With Xavier on their side, it would be easier to fend off enemies and, most importantly, significantly easier to protect you.

You all had a night of needed rest, while somewhere in Linkon, Xavier sat atop the highest building in the city, the cool night wind whipping around him as he wrestled with the bewildering turn of events. He revisited the images in his head, the fragmented memories that his future self had meticulously left for him. He figured he needed to start somewhere, and that would be his future self's old apartment.

Morning came, and you woke up in Rafayel's warm embrace, his scent filling your senses. Your hand instinctively searched for Sylus, and you realized he must have already gone to N109 Zone to check on Onychinus; after all, he was its leader.

You nuzzled your face deeper into Rafayel's bare chest, which earned you a sleepy groan from the sleeping sea god.

Moments later, you felt the bed dip behind you. A soft kiss brushed your bare shoulder, and Zayne's calm voice filled your ear.

"I have to head to the hospital for an emergency surgery, my love," he murmured. You turned your head slightly to his direction and gave him a sleepy smile. He gave you a soft peck on the lips, lingering.

"Take it easy today. Don't forget to eat," he reminded you, his gaze full of care, before he left.

You were about to turn your head back, settling deeper into Rafayel's embrace, before you noticed a tall, familiar frame by the door. You knew instantly it was Caleb.

You adjusted your position slightly without leaving Rafayel's hold, so that your back was to him. It was surprising how Rafayel remained asleep, his arm still wrapped possessively around your waist.

You patted the empty side of the bed, inviting Caleb to join.

Caleb sauntered to your direction, a soft scoff escaping his lips as he glanced at Rafayel's sleepy, draped form.

He then joined you both on the bed, pulling the covers higher. Caleb brushed the stray strands of hair off your face, his touch surprisingly gentle, then kissed your cheeks affectionately.

"Good morning, pipsqueak," he greeted, his voice a low rumble.

You felt Rafayel nuzzle his face deeper into your hair, making you giggle softly.

You caressed Caleb's cheek, and he leaned into your warmth, his eyes closing for a brief moment of contentment. You asked him, your voice still scratchy both from sleep and from screaming their names over and over last night, whether he slept well. Caleb nodded, his eyes sparkling with amusement, his lips quirked into a handsome smirk as he glanced at your lips before returning to your eyes.

"More than well enough, my good girl," he purred, his thumb stroking your cheekbone.

Then Rafayel groaned in complaint as his phone rang loudly from the nightstand, the ringtone indicating that it was Thomas, probably calling him for another meeting or to remind him of an upcoming deadline.

You nudged his chest gently with your elbow, and with another defiant groan, he finally stood up and snatched his phone from the nightstand. He left the room, muttering with a grumble, "What is it, Thomas?" already falling into his usual persona.

Caleb shook his head exasperatedly, already used to the normal quirks and antics of the rest of the men. He pulled you fully into his chest, his arms wrapping around you, and kissed you deeply, thoroughly.

"Already hungry?" he asked against your lips, his tongue tracing the soft curve of your lower lip. You answered, your voice a playful whisper, how you hoped he had cooked breakfast. He poked your nose gently.

"You're very spoiled," he chuckled, "Not just by me, but by every man in this household."

Then you asked Caleb, your voice turning serious, about how he truly felt about the whole setup—about sharing you—about your intertwined fates.

Caleb held your gaze, his eyes softening, but also carrying a deep, ancient sorrow. He answered after a brief moment, choosing his words carefully.

"It's not something I'd choose for myself," he admitted, his thumb stroking your jawline. "It's cruel for fate to play with each of us, making you tangled to each of us in different timelines—and for some reason, we're all stuck in this current timeline."

He continued, his voice grim. "Fate must have been planning to tear you apart, or make you choose, or make all of us kill one another."

You grimaced at the thought of your men at each other's throats, a truly horrifying image. Caleb noticed the worry in your face as he felt your hold on him tighten, his arms pulling you closer. But before your thoughts could spiral down, he kissed your temple, a reassuring press.

"None of this is our fault, pipsqueak," he whispered. Then he told you, in his gentle, soothing voice, "This is the best way for us to have you, without destroying you, as if you are merely an object to be claimed."

You nodded, taking solace in his words, reminding yourself that this was all fate's fault, and that this was your way to defy it, together.

Then Caleb's smile became mischievous, a glint in his eyes that promised trouble. He asked you again if you were hungry, but didn't wait for your answer. Instead, he shifted, hovering over you, his body a heavy, delicious weight.

"I'm hungry," he murmured, his voice a low growl, "and I want to have some breakfast."

He started to trail kisses down your neck, making you arch your back, then gave each of your breasts his full, undivided attention, sucking on your nipples until they hardened into aching nubs.

His fingers, large and knowing, then reached the wet, aching spot between your legs. Caleb hummed in satisfaction, a deep vibration against your sensitive skin.

"Hmm, my meal is ready," he purred, his eyes burning with desire.

He spread your thighs wide apart for him, staring at your glistening core with a hunger that made your breath hitch.

Then he dove in like a starved man, his tongue tracing your wet folds, tasting you intimately. He continued to lap at you, a methodical, relentless rhythm, as if you were his only meal, driving you to the brink, then over the edge, into a shattering orgasm.

He drank you up as if he was deprived of sustenance, as if you were his last meal on earth—not letting a single drop escape his mouth. "So sweet, so ready, our princess," he murmured, his tongue still swirling.

You lay there, breathing heavily, your body tingling from the aftershocks.

You watched Caleb zip his pants, his eyes still dark with desire. Then, in a swift and smooth movement, he entered you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his body pressing you into the mattress, groaning and moaning your name into your skin.

He thrusted into you in a slow, torturous rhythm, each push a delicious torment, while you held onto his body for dear life, your nails digging into his firm back.

He whispered dirty things in your ear, his voice ragged with passion. "So tight, so good, always for me. You're a greedy little thing, aren't you? Needing all of us."

Then he smirked dangerously, pulling back slightly. "Somebody else wanted to join."

You didn't understand what he was saying, your mind completely consumed by the delicious sensation his dick was giving you, by the relentless pleasure.

Caleb shifted you, making you lay on your stomach, pulling your hips so that your ass was perfectly presented to him, a delectable offering, before pushing his length deeper into you in this new position, a guttural groan escaping him.

Then the bed dipped beside you. You felt a hand gently guiding your head, tilting it.

"Open up, beautiful."

Your eyes met Rafayel's possessive gaze, already alert, his throbbing dick probing your mouth open. You welcomed his length inside your mouth, a soft moan escaping you, letting him fuck your tiny mouth, swallowing him whole.

"Such a good, little girl for us."

Your eyes drank in the sight of his aroused state, so beautiful, so utterly consumed, making you clench instinctively on Caleb's dick, tightening around him.

Caleb groaned loudly, "Fuck, pips, gripping my dick like that — shit, so good."

Then you felt his finger probe at your other entrance, a warning, a preparation.

"You have to make room for the sea god, pips," he mumbled, his voice thick with desire.

You moaned on Rafayel's dick, your body overstimulated at the multiple penetrations, the thrilling chaos. Not long after, both men stopped, and you all shifted, seamlessly.

You were being moved as if you weighed nothing, Rafayel now gripping your waist, pulling you down, your walls swallowing his length fully, while Caleb positioned himself at your other entrance, slowly entering, making both you and Rafayel groan, a shared sound of pleasure and acceptance.

"Taking both of us like a champ," Caleb grunted as he filled your ass entirely.

And that morning was spent with you being filled by Rafayel and Caleb, pressed between their powerful bodies, their large hands on you, their mouths and tongues worshipping every inch of your skin, making you see stars from coming multiple times.

Your skin acquired more marks from them, love bites and bruises a testament to their possession, making you come over and over again, until you were trembling and utterly spent.

And even through the haze of ecstasy, your thoughts would flash Xavier, a quiet yearning, knowing he belonged with you, with all of them, in this weird, beautiful family that you had built to spite fate itself.

[moonqtni]

I Want Someone Badly | P.WB

₊˚ෆ he’s stuck in a seemingly perfect relationship that’s slowly breaking him. when he meets someone who truly sees him, their quiet connection grows into something undeniable. torn between loyalty and longing, he must choose who he’s willing to hurt—and who he’s willing to become.

pairing: wonbin x fem!reader

warnings: slight angst, mentions of drinking, emotional infidelity,

a/n: i hope u guys enjoy the first part, and if you wanna be added to taglist just comment on masterlist post!

chapter one | story masterlist

everyone thought wonbin and sophia were perfect together.

he was quiet, thoughtful, always observing before he spoke. she was the opposite-loud, outgoing, unapologetically present. where wonbin blended into the background, sophia demanded attention without even trying

at the start, the contrast worked.

he liked how effortlessly she carried herself, how she could walk into a room full of people and take control of the energy without missing a beat. she said whatever was on her mind. she was bold, funny, endlessly confident.

in the beginning, being with her felt like being pulled into the sun.

but months passed, and the warmth turned harsh.

sophia's confidence started to feel more like self-absorption. her stories became longer, louder, less interested in who was listening. she spoke in circles-about herself, her friends, her problems, her opinions-and rarely asked anything in return.

when she did, it felt forced. like checking a box.

"how was your day?" she'd ask, eyes already on her phone. "anyway, guess what happened to me."

wonbin would answer quietly, not expecting her to respond. she never really did.

the conversations turned into routines. the same topics. the same complaints. the same jokes. and he played his part-nodding, reacting on cue, offering sympathy or laughter when it felt expected.

most people wouldn't have noticed anything was wrong. at school, they looked like the couple everyone wanted to be: cute, coordinated, always sitting together at lunch, her arm wrapped around his like they were made to fit.

but wonbin felt like he was disappearing.

it wasn't that he hated her. he didn't. sophia wasn't cruel, and she wasn't doing anything malicious. she was just... absorbed in herself. loud in ways that didn't leave space for anyone else.

and wonbin had stopped speaking up.

he stayed, partly out of habit, partly because it was easier than starting over, and partly-though he wouldn't admit it out loud— because he was still convincing himself this was normal.

that his frustration was temporary.

that all relationships went through this.

that if he gave it time, the feeling would fade. but it didn't fade.

it grew-quietly, under the surface. the boredom. the resentment. the numbness. and something else, too. a flicker of want.

it wasn't about anyone in particular. he hadn't met anyone new.

but sometimes, when sophia was talking - talking and talking and not seeing how far away he was drifting-he'd wonder what it would feel like to be with someone who actually listened.

someone who saw him.

someone who let him speak and didn't fill the silence the second it opened up.

someone who didn't make him feel like he had to earn space in his own relationship.

he didn't know who that girl was. he didn't even know if she existed.

but lately, he was starting to hope she did.

wonbin stared at the half-empty tray in front of him, the cafeteria noise fading into a dull hum. a fork hung loosely in his hand, forgotten.

laughter erupted somewhere down the table-probably from eunseok or sungchan-but it barely registered.

he was somewhere else.

not physically. his body was right here, next to sophia, just like always. her arm was looped through his, her voice filling the air around them, animated as ever. but in his mind, he was drifting-floating somewhere quiet, somewhere far away from the chaos oflunch tables and loud voices and conversations that didn't really go anywhere.

everyone thought wonbin and sophia were perfect together.

he was quiet, thoughtful, always observing before he spoke. she was the opposite-loud, outgoing, unapologetically present. where wonbin blended into the background, sophia demanded attention without even trying.

at the start, the contrast worked.

he liked how effortlessly she carried herself, how she could walk into a room full of people and take control of the energy without missing a beat. she said whatever was on her mind. she was bold, funny, endlessly confident.

in the beginning, being with her felt like being pulled into the sun.

but months passed, and the warmth turned harsh.

“wonbin?" sophia's voice cut through his thoughts like a flash of light. an edge in her tone-something between annoyance and curiosity.

"did you hear what Ijust said?"

he blinked, like surfacing from underwater.

"huh? yeah. sorry. what?"

sophia laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder like she was brushing off the moment. "i was saying, i told hana she looked amazing in that dress, but of course she asked minji for a second opinion like i don't know what I'm talking about."

wonbin nodded, out of habit more than agreement. "right."

she didn't notice the pause, didn't hear the flatness in his voice. she was already launching into the next part of the story, looping in names and opinions like a one-woman show with no intermission.

he shifted slightly, his eyes unfocused again.

sometimes, when sophia talked-talking and talking and not noticing how far away he was drifting-wonbin's mind would slip somewhere else. somewhere quieter.

he'd picture the beach, early morning, before the crowds showed up-just the sound of waves and the feeling of cool sand under his feet.

Or the skate park after school, where he could tune out the world and feel his mind go still, his body focused only on movement and balance.

anywhere but here.

“wonbin?”

her voice hit like a slap—sharp, irritated, and way too loud for how close she was.

he blinked, pulled back to earth.

“yeah?” he mumbled.

sophia rolled her eyes, arms crossed like she’d been holding in that sigh all day. “seriously? why aren’t you listening to me?”

“I am,” he said, too fast to sound convincing.

they both knew it wasn’t true.

the thing was, whenever sophia talked his brain just… left. floated off somewhere quieter. somewhere she wasn’t rattling off recycled drama like a playlist stuck on repeat.

she’d been on this loop for weeks. same people, same stories. and as much as he hated to admit it, he could probably recite her entire social life like a script. meanwhile, whenever he brought something up—his guitar, skating, the new movie he’d stayed up to watch—she’d zone out like someone had hit mute.

but he never called her out. Just nodded, smiled, pretended.

“wonbin,” she snapped, dragging him back again. “you’re literally staring into space.”

he exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. “right. my bad.”

“can you, like, care for five minutes about what I’m saying?” she huffed, grabbing her phone from her bag. “i’m gonna go fix my makeup.”

she leaned in just long enough for her lips to brush his cheek—a move more automatic than affectionate—and walked off without waiting for a reply.

wonbin just stared at the table, not really seeing anything.

“that was… brutal,” eunseok said, sliding into the seat sophia left behind, eyebrows raised.

“bro, don’t say that,” sungchan muttered, whacking him lightly on the arm as he joined them. “you’re not helping.”

“no, he’s right,” wonbin said with a weak laugh, pushing the last piece of his sandwich around his tray. “that whole thing was a trainwreck.”

sungchan let out a slow sigh. “you okay?”

wonbin shrugged, half-laughing. “tell me I’m not insane—didn’t she talk about Hana’s dress yesterday too?”

“you’re right,” Eunseok confirmed. “I think she even used the same tone.”

“yeah, like… I swear we’re in a time loop and i’m the only one who realizes it.”

“oh, we realize,” eunseok said. “we’re just suffering silently.”

“dude ,” sungchan said, shaking his head. “have you tried actually talking to her? like, for real?”

wonbin and eunseok exchanged looks.

“oh. talk to sophia ,” wonbin repeated flatly. “right. because I haven’t thought of that.”

he scoffed and stood up, grabbing his tray. the others followed him toward the trash bins.

“I swear, the second I talk about anything that isn’t mascara or minji’s latest passive-aggressive text, it’s like i’m speaking a different language. Or no language. like—straight up Charlie Brown’s teacher.”

he tossed his tray in and threw his hands in the air, exasperated.

“she doesn’t even try to fake it,” wonbin muttered. “it’s like I’m invisible unless I’m gassing her up.”

sungchan let out a low whistle. “yeah… that’s not great.”

eunseok shoved the cafeteria door open with his shoulder, the bright heat of early summer spilling over them like a wave.

“oh,” he added as they stepped outside, “by the way—there’s a party tomorrow. out by the lake.”

sungchan perked up. “yeah, jaemin’s throwing it. you know, his annual ‘school’s out, parents are gone, let’s pretend we’re in a movie’ thing.”

“bonfire , speakers, cheap snacks, bad decisions,” eunseok added with a grin. “the whole production.”

“everyone’s going,” sungchan said. “and you—” he pointed at wonbin, “—you’re coming. non-negotiable.”

wonbin raised a brow. “since when do you two organize my social life?”

“since you started ghosting your own,” eunseok shot back. “this is like… rehab.”

“summer rehab,” sungchan nodded solemnly. “step one: stand near a lake. step two: remember you’re seventeen.”

wonbin let out a laugh—small, real.

“alright,” he said, squinting at the sky like he was still getting used to the idea of sunlight. “i’ll come.”

“good,” eunseok said, clapping him on the back. “we’ll bring drinks. you bring your soul back.”

they kept walking, voices rising with the sounds of summer beginning around them—doors slamming open, music spilling from car windows, someone yelling about freedom like they’d just been released from prison.

and for the first time in a long while, wonbin felt like maybe he was.

it had been three days since you and your family moved into the house, and little by little, it was starting to feel like yours. the faint smell of fresh paint still clung to the corners of the hallway, and the living room curtains hadn’t been hung yet, but the important things—photos on the fridge, a shoe pile by the front door, your mom’s overwatered plants in the kitchen window—were all in place.

and you didn’t mind it here. not like you thought you would.

you missed your old neighborhood sometimes, sure. the late-night runs to the corner store with your best friend, the café where you’d sit for hours doing homework. but you weren’t angry about leaving. Not anymore.

your dad had lost his job last winter, and for a while, everything felt uncertain—like your life was hanging by a thread. when the job offer came, it wasn’t even a question. It didn’t matter that it was in a town you never heard of. It was a lifeline. a reset.

so no, you didn’t hate the new house. you were grateful for it. grateful your dad had somewhere to go every morning. grateful your parents smiled more now. grateful for dinners around the table that didn’t feel heavy.

you still didn’t know anyone here, though. not really.

you pulled the drawstrings of your hoodie tighter and grabbed the trash bag by the back door.

it was one of those warm summer evenings where the air smelled like sprinklers and charcoal smoke. the sky was streaked pink and soft orange as you stepped out into the front yard , the trash bag swinging at your side.

the garbage bins were lined up along the side fence, half in shadow. as you popped the lid open, you heard a voice behind you.

“hey! you live here?”

you turned, startled.

a girl stood on the other side of the fence, leaning on the wooden slats with one arm. her smile was wide and easy.

“yeah,” you said cautiously. “since like a few days ago.”

“i figured,” the girl said. “i’ve seen you around but wasn’t sure if you were just visiting or whatever. i’m lara. i live next door.”

“oh.” you blinked, then smiled politely. “i’m y/n.”

lara pointed with her chin. “you’re in the blue house, right? with the broken porch light?”

you laughed, surprised. “yeah. we keep forgetting to fix it.”

“don’t ,” lara said. “gives the house character.”

lara climbed up onto the bottom rail of the fence and leaned over like they’d known each other for months. “so, how are you liking it here?”

“it’s … different,” you admitted. “but not bad. it’s quieter than where i used to live.”

“that’s one way to put it,” lara said with a grin. “some people say boring.”

“i don’t mind quiet,” you shrugged. “it feels kind of peaceful.”

lara nodded. “You from a city?”

“a bigger town. closer to the coast.”

“why did you guys move?”

you didn’t flinch at the question. “my dad lost his job last year. took a while, but he finally found something here.”

lara’s face softened. “that sucks. i mean—not the new job. Just… everything before.”

“yeah. it was rough,” you said, then added, “but we’re good now.”

there was a pause—not awkward, just thoughtful. then lara leaned back and casually asked, “what are you doing tomorrow night?”

you tilted your head. “i don’t know. Probably nothing. why?”

“there’s this lake party. It’s kind of a tradition here. first summer party. bonfire, music, people cannonballing into the water like idiots.”

you raised an eyebrow. “sounds… chaotic.”

“it is,” lara said proudly. “but it’s fun. you should come.”

you hesitated, not because you didn’t want to go, but because you weren’t used to being invited. not here. not yet.

“i mean,” lara added quickly, “only if you want to. no pressure. i just figured—new girl, summer night, why not?”

you smiled. “yeah. okay. why not.”

“awesome . i’ll pick you up at six. don’t worry about dressing fancy. it’s like… hoodies and swimsuits and bad playlists.”

lara gave her a two-finger salute, then hopped down from the fence and walked back toward her house. you stood there for a moment, the empty trash bag still in your hand, watching as lara disappeared.

you hadn’t expected to meet anyone that night. definitely not someone like lara.

you smiled to yourself.

⸻

the next day crept in quietly, golden light spilling through the slats of your blinds and warming the wooden floor of your room. you woke up with that low, fluttery kind of nervousness, the kind that buzzes in your chest like the pause before something new.

a lake party. In a new town. with people you didn’t know. It felt like the beginning of a movie—one where the main girl doesn’t know the night will change everything until it already has.

you pulled open your closet and stared at your clothes, most still in half-folded piles from the move. you didn’t want to overdress, but you definitely weren’t about to show up looking like you hadn’t tried at all.

eventually, you settled on a red fitted tank top—the kind that hugged you just enough to feel confident without being obvious. you threw on a pair of loose, faded denim shorts that hit just below your knees and still smelled faintly like laundry detergent. a pair of white crew socks and chunky sneakers completed the look. you added a few gold necklaces—layered and tangled like you meant to do it—and a pair of small hoops.

your hair, you left down. natural , a little messy, still soft from last night’s shower. you looked in the mirror and tilted your head.

not bad. you looked like someone who might casually lean against a railing at a summer party, sipping from a red cup and pretending you weren’t slightly overwhelmed.

downstairs, your mom was washing blueberries at the sink when you walked in.

“you look like you’re about to film a coming-of-age montage,” she said, smiling without turning around.

you raised an eyebrow. “that a compliment or a warning?”

“Both,” she said, placing the berries into a bowl. “your going to that lake thing your neighbor mentioned?”

“yeah . lara’s picking me up.”

“well, she sounds cool.”

you smirked. “she is.”

“just… be safe, okay?” she said, drying her hands on a towel. “and don’t go wandering into the woods alone.”

you grabbed your phone. “i know.”

by six, the sun was casting long shadows across the sidewalk. you stood at the front window, fingers tapping against your thigh, until a soft car horn pulled you back to reality.

lara’s car rolled up to the curb, music vibrating through the open windows. she leaned out, wearing oversized sunglasses and holding a slushie, her free hand waving casually.

“okay, fashion queen,” she called out as you stepped outside. “you didn’t tell me you were serving main character energy tonight.”

you laughed, sliding into the passenger seat. “you think it’s too much?” lara shook her head. “not even close. you look like if lady bird had a depop account.”

you buckled in. “so… that’s good?”

“that’s excellent,” lara said. “you ready?”

you glanced back at your house once, then looked ahead. “yeah. let’s go.”

the car rolled forward, music playing low and sweet between you as rooftops passed by in a blur of gold and green. you didn’t know what tonight would bring—maybe just smoke in your hair and sand in your shoes—but that was okay.

the fire cracked somewhere behind him, its warmth brushing the back of wonbin’s legs, but he barely noticed. he stood near the edge of the lake, a solo cup sweating in his hand, watching the sun bleed into the horizon like it couldn’t decide whether to stay or go. the music thumped from two different speakers, overlapping into a chaotic rhythm. laughter echoed down the shoreline. everyone was having a good time, everyone but him.

“dude,” eunseok said, bumping his shoulder. “you’ve had the same drink for like an hour. it’s a party, not a punishment.”

sungchan joined them, holding a cooler in one hand and grinning like he had no idea what heartbreak looked like. “unless that’s your strategy, slow sip your way into emotional enlightenment?”

wonbin managed a weak smile. “guess I’m just pacing myself.”

truth was, he was trying. really trying. he’d come here to have fun, to let loose, to feel something that didn’t come with guilt or exhaustion. but everything about the night; the firelight, the water, the way people leaned into each other like they belonged only made the hollowness louder.

he could feel it in his chest, a quiet kind of ache that followed him lately like a shadow.

“yo, we should go swimming,” Eunseok suggested, already kicking off his shoes. “you need a reset. cold water fixes everything.”

but before wonbin could answer, he heard the voice he’d been unconsciously bracing for all night.

“there you are.”

sophia.

she appeared like a gust of cold wind in the middle of summer; perfect, poised, already annoyed. her hair was untouched by the humidity, her lip gloss somehow still flawless. she slipped between eunseok and sungchan like they weren’t even there.

“this party’s boring,” she said, crossing her arms. “let’s go. i’ve seen enough drunk idiots for one night.”

wonbin blinked. “i just got here.”

“we’ve been here for an hour,” she corrected, as if that settled it. “come on, there’s a new rooftop spot near the river. real music. real people.”

he hesitated. “i kind of wanna stay.”

sophia’s brows pulled together like that single sentence personally offended her. “seriously?”

“i’m with my friends,” he said, voice low. “i just wanna chill. that’s all.”

she looked at him like he’d said something in another language—like the idea of wanting to stay at a messy, barefoot, beer-scented lake party was absurd. she sighed, long and sharp. “fine. stay. enjoy your mud and mosquitoes.”

and with that, she turned on her heel and walked off, her phone already in hand as she disappeared toward the line of parked cars.

wonbin exhaled slowly, staring down at his half-full cup. the music kept going. The fire cracked louder. someone shouted something from the water, and the rest of the party roared in response. he felt… not angry, just drained.

“i’m good,” he murmured, more to himself than to his friends.

then he saw her.

she stepped out of the passenger side of a beat-up car with the kind of ease that made it seem like she belonged here, even though he was certain he’d never seen her before. Her hair was down, wavy and soft around her shoulders, and she wore the coolest yet simple outfit—like she’d just come from a thrift store and made it look better than any brand name ever could. her friend hopped out next, already laughing about something, but this girl ,

she paused.

and looked around.

like she was taking in the lake, the sky, the fire, the people.

and something in wonbin stilled. just… completely stopped.

the sound of the party dimmed, the voices fading into the background. for a second, it was like they were the only two people here. and she hadn’t even seen him yet.

but he saw her.

and in that flicker of a moment he felt it.

—

the air smelled like pine, smoke, and cheap liquor, and you weren’t sure if you liked it or not.

the lake stretched out in front of you like glass, the last slivers of sunlight brushing against the surface in soft golds and pinks. music blared from different corners of the party, overlapping into a messy soundtrack of summer and teenage chaos. someone yelled something near the firepit. someone else cannonballed into the water fully clothed. it was all loud and alive and too much—but in the best way.

you adjusted the strap of your top and glanced at lara, who was already pulling her hoodie off and tying it around her waist.

“okay,” lara said, surveying the scene like a general about to march into battle, “this place is a disaster. I love it.”

you laughed softly, nerves melting just a little. “should we have brought drinks?”

“we brought vibes. that’s more than enough.”

lara’s confidence was both ridiculous and magnetic. she walked like she owned the entire lake, already waving at a few people she knew by name, calling out sarcastic comments. you trailed a few steps behind her, heart doing an uneven tap dance in your chest as you tried to blend in without looking like you were trying to blend in.

a pale girl walked toward you two like she hadn’t just dramatically peeled out of the party ten minutes ago. her heels clicked too loud on the dirt path. her phone was in her hand, as always, but her eyes were locked on lara.

“well, well,” the girl had said, smiling like she was about to pull a knife out of her designer bag. “didn’t expect to see you here. I thought they only played actual music at the places you hang out.”

lara smiled right back, sweet and sharp. “sophia, did your boyfriend finally give up trying to pretend to like you?”

sophia laughed once, clipped. “still making jokes to avoid saying anything meaningful, huh?”

lara shrugged. “still pretending you’re better than everyone when you’re bored out of your mind?”

you stood between them like a witness to a silent war. neither raised their voice. neither stepped closer. but the tension between them was electric, practically humming.

“i’m surprised you brought a plus one,” sophia said, eyes flicking to you for half a second. “you usually prefer all the attention to yourself.”

lara tilted her head. “I figured someone here should be interesting to talk to.”

sophia’s smile twitched—almost a smirk. “enjoy the party, lara. try not to trip over your own ego.”

“try not to ruin everyone’s vibe with your personality.”

with that, sophia turned and stalked off toward her car, fingers already tapping across her phone screen.

lara exhaled and looked at you with a smirk. “that girl’s soul is made of expired lip gloss and spite.”

you blinked. “what… was that?”

“oh, nothing.” lara waved it off like it wasn’t war. “just a little reunion. we used to have gym together. back when she was still pretending to be human.”

——

the lake pulsed with sound—music bleeding out of cheap speakers, the hiss of a bonfire, laughter in unpredictable waves. But here, on the edge of it all, it felt just a little quieter.

you walked beside lara along the outer trail circling the party. the lights and noise felt a bit far now, dulled behind the tall trees. everything smelled like pine and smoke and wet air.

“you know,” lara said, dodging a root in the path, “for a party that has three bluetooth speakers going at once, this place has surprisingly bad music taste.” she laughed.

you snorted. “maybe it’s intentional. like, if you keep the vibes confusing, no one notices the beer’s warm and everything’s sticky.”

“chaos theory, but for teenagers.” lara looked back at you, grinning. “I like you.”

you smiled back, a little unsure, a little surprised. “thanks. I like you too. still deciding if I like this party.”

“give it time. or at least half a drink.”

you both wandered closer to a smaller crowd gathered near the side dock. a few coolers were lined up like furniture, but lara’s attention shifted instantly when she spotted someone leaning back against the railing.

“eunseok?” she called.

the boy looked up. “lara?”

he broke into a wide grin, pushing off the railing as they met halfway in a collision of chaotic energy.

you hung back, watching. they were like mirror images—same personality, same quick comebacks. if sarcasm was a language, they were already fluent in each other.

another boy stood nearby, shoulders slightly hunched in the way people stand when they’re used to being left in the background. hands in his pockets, eyes focused not on the chaos in front of him—but on you without you really noticing.

he had seen you the second you arrived, back when you stepped out of lara’s car like she wasn’t sure she should be here. there was something about the way you stood—nervous, composed, soft in a world that wasn’t. he hadn’t meant to watch you, but he hadn’t been able to help it either.

and now you were standing right next to him.

you glanced at him for half a second, offering a small, polite smile. he returned it—barely, just the edge of one. he wasn’t sure he trusted his voice yet.

beside them, lara and eunseok were already in full orbit, firing lines back and forth like they were in a sitcom only they understood. every time one of them opened their mouth, the other one talked louder. the group was laughing now. you wished you could make conversation with someone as easily as lara did.

wonbin looked over at you again. “you new here?”

you nodded. “is it that obvious?”

“a little.” he paused. “but I mean that in a good way.”

you glanced over at Lara and eunseok, who were now ranking who at the party was most likely to be hiding a fake id in their shoe.

“so… are they always like that?”

wonbin chuckled quietly. “this is them toned down. you should see what happens when they are drunk.”

“i don’t know if I’m ready for that level of chaos.”

“they usually forget everyone else exists once they start talking.”

you raised an eyebrow. “clearly.” another beat passed. “i’m y/n, by the way.”

“wonbin.” he gave a small nod. “i know. i saw you come in.”

you blinked. “you did?”

He looked a little caught, a little embarrassed—but not enough to lie. “yeah.”

you smiled, warm and a little surprised. “that’s kinda sweet. or stalkerish? But I’ll go with sweet.”

“let’s pretend I was just… observant.”

you both laughed softly, the air between the both of you shifting. a little lighter. a little closer.

behind you , lara and eunseok had wandered down the dock mid-argument and absolutely forgotten they’d ever brought anyone with them.

you glanced over your shoulder. “wanna walk for a bit? somewhere less loud?”

wonbin nodded. “s-sure.”

the lake shimmered under string lights and a low, humming sky. crickets chirped somewhere beyond the dock, and faint music echoed from the party up the hill — laughter, someone yelling into the night, a speaker half-blaring something upbeat. but down here, tucked near the water’s edge, it felt like the world had muted itself for just the two of you.

wonbin sat beside you, legs stretched out in front of him, hands loosely clasped between his knees. he looked calm. the kind of calm that was so well-practiced, it had become a second skin.

but you could see right through it.

you didn’t speak at first. just studied him from the corner of your eye, watched the way his shoulders stayed a little too stiff, how his gaze lingered on the water but never focused.

“you don’t really like parties, do you?” you said finally, your tone easy but edged with curiosity. wonbin blinked like he’d been caught. “what gave it away?”

“you haven’t looked up once since we got here,” you said, smiling faintly.

he looked at you then — really looked. his lips parted like he wanted to say something but didn’t quite know how.

“i’m good at reading people,” you added, softer now. “especially the ones who stay quiet on purpose.”

wonbin looked away again, a low laugh escaping his throat. “most people just think I’m boring.”

“you’re not,” she said without hesitation. “you just seem tired of people hearing you but not listening.”

that stopped him.

he turned his head slightly, eyes meeting hers like he’d just recognized her for the first time. like maybe, just maybe, you saw something in him no one else bothered to look for.

“you don’t know me,” he said quietly, but his voice wasn’t defensive. it was curious. almost hopeful.

“no,” you said, leaning forward, elbows on your knees. “but i already get you.”

and you did. in a way that was startling, almost intimate. not because you knew his history or had years of stories — but because you noticed the little things. the pauses. the way he measured his words. the difference between how he acted and how he really felt.

wonbin let the silence linger for a moment. then he said, “okay. then tell me something about myself.”

you turned your face toward him, expression unreadable. “you seem like the type to feel things a lot deeper than you let on. but you don’t always know what to do with that, so you swallow it. you don’t like being the center of attention, but you still want to be seen.”

wonbin didn’t move. didn’t blink. just looked at you — like you’d just opened a locked door he’d forgotten he even had.

you both sat like that, the air thick with the weight of something neither of you had names for yet. not crushes. not flirting. it was something deeper — the kind of invisible thread that pulls two people together without either of you realizing it’s happening.

“so… what do you listen to?” you asked.

he hesitated, but you already knew he would.

“radiohead,” he said. “jeff buckley. the smiths.”

you let out a breath, like you’d just been hit with a wave. “no way.”

he half-smiled. “let me guess. same?”

“in rainbows,” she said, hand on her chest like she was testifying. “that album raised me. and don’t even get me started on ‘lover, you should’ve come over.’ that song is, like… every heartbreak I’ve never been able to explain.”

wonbin exhaled slowly, like something inside him had just settled. “exactly .”

there was a long pause. not empty ,full. so full of mutual understanding it almost buzzed between you two .

“i think music’s the only place I’ve ever felt really understood,” he said. “like it gets the parts of me I can’t explain to people.”

“I feel that,” you whispered. “that aching, cinematic feeling like you’re watching your own life from a distance.”

“yeah.” his voice dropped. “like you’re always just almost there. But not quite.”

you both sat in it together — that unspoken ache. that sense of being out of place even when surrounded by people. you felt the lump in your throat grow for reasons you didn’t fully understand yet.

and as you looked at wonbin , you realized something.

he wasn’t just quiet. he was gentle. soft in a world that demanded he be sharp. the kind of boy who thought before he spoke, who carried other people’s weight in silence. and you recognized that, because you’d spent years doing the same.

“you’re cool to be around,” you said, your voice barely above the sound of the water lapping the shore.

wonbin looked at you, and for the first time that night, there was no hesitation. just honesty.

“you too.”

and even though neither of you said it out loud — not yet — something shifted in that moment. something personal. something rare.

the kind of connection that didn’t need defining. It just was.

you nudged wonbin gently with your shoulder. “you know, for someone who listens to the smiths, you’re surprisingly not depressing.”

wonbin laughed, a low, warm sound.

you grinned. “at least we can spiral to good music.”

he smirked. “we should make a playlist. ‘songs to overthink your life to.’”

“24 hour playlist,” you replied, and he laughed again, this time with his whole body, leaning back and shaking his head.

just then, footsteps crunched over the gravel behind you. lara and eunseok stumbled over, both slightly out of breath from laughing.

“y/n!” lara called out, grinning like she’d just told the best joke in the world. “there you are. you two have been hiding.”

wonbin straightened up but didn’t move far from you. eunseok was right behind lara, his cheeks flushed and still laughing at whatever she’d said before.

“i’m a little tipsy,” lara declared, tossing her hair and planting her hands on her hips. “and ready to get out of here.”

you glanced at wonbin, not really ready to leave, not from this moment.

he turned to her quickly, the hesitation leaving his voice for the first time. “hey, wait — before you go…”

you looked back at him.

“can I get your number?” he asked, almost rushed, like he didn’t want to miss the chance. “I mean, if that’s okay.”

you blinked, then smiled, pulling her phone out without a word.

you exchanged phones, their fingers brushing briefly. his hands were cold. yours were trembling a little , but in a good way.

“here,” you said, handing his phone back. “now you have someone to send sad songs to when it gets really bad.”

he smiled, soft and grateful. “and you, too. for when life feels like a sofia coppola film.”

you shared a brief, lingering glance. not flirtatious ,something else. something like: i see you.

then lara hooked her arm around yours. “alright,” she teased. “i’m stealing her now.”

you laughed awkwardly and followed, glancing over your shoulder just once to see wonbin watching her leave, thumb already hovering over his phone like he might text her the second she was out of sight.

once you were a few yards away, lara let out a little snort and muttered, “miss steal-your-man over here.”

you blinked. “What?”

lara raised an eyebrow, amused. “that was definitely not just friendly conversation back there.” you scoffed. “what are you talking about?”

“i’m saying, you and wonbin were eye-fondling each other for a solid fifteen minutes.”

you laughed, flustered. “no we weren’t! we were just talking. about music. movies. stuff.”

lara made a face like she was holding back from saying uh-huh, sure, then said, “you know he has a girlfriend, right?”

you stopped walking. “what?”

“yeah,” lara said more seriously now. “sophia. that girl we ran into when we first got here — remember her? giving major resting-mean-face.”

your mouth dropped slightly. “that was his girlfriend?”

lara nodded. “eunseok just told me. apparently , she left earlier than him and he wasn’t super thrilled about it.”

you stared ahead blankly, replaying the conversation at the lake in her head — the way he looked at her, how open he’d been, how he never mentioned sophia. not once.

“the hell? he didn’t say anything,” you said quietly.

lara shrugged. “maybe he forgot.”

you scoffed, more to herself than anyone else. “you don’t forget you have a girlfriend.”

lara glanced over, sensing her mood shift. “hey. I don’t think you did anything wrong. you didn’t even know.”

“I know,” you said, voice tight. “but still.”

you both kept walking, the buzz of the party behind them, and your stomach twisting with something you couldn’t quite name , a mix of confusion and… disappointment?

because you felt it.

and you thought maybe he had, too.

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[fuyuzumis]

Fuyuzumi Tsubaki Main Story: Chapter 6

The translations posted on this blog are fan-made and purely for entertainment purposes, and not for profit. All original content and media used belong to DMM games and Cybird. Story content is taken from the DMM version of the game, please proceed at your own discretion. Do not reupload onto other platforms, reblogs are welcome.

Minors/ageless blogs WILL be blocked.

Yumeka: … Mm. It’s morning…

Sitting up in my bed, a smile tugged at my lips when I noticed how clear and well-rested my head felt.

(I really had some proper sleep… and had that same dream again.)

Simply getting out of bed in the mornings usually felt like a  chore, but my body moved energetically today. 

I looked at my bedside table to see the small dish with a pile of burnt-out ash.

There were three more incense next to it. I knew I had to use them wisely.

(I told Tsubaki-kun I’d be back.) 

Despite it being only a dream, naturally I still felt guilty about doing those sexual acts with Tsubaki again. 

The old me from before last night’s dream would’ve avoided seeing Tsubaki as much as possible after something like that. 

(... But now, I want to see the Tsubaki-kun in the real world too.)

(It’s not as if he’ll know the contents of my dreams, anyway.) 

However, — the flowers I had on display at Tapir looked like they could last a while longer, so I didn't exactly have a good reason to visit the flower shop anytime soon. 

As I opened the curtains to check today’s weather, my eyes fell on a potted plant sitting out on my balcony.

Yumeka: Oh! That’s right. Maybe I could ask him about this plant.

I unlocked the window, opened it, and picked up the potted plant.

Most of my grandparents’ plants were brought back to the family home after they passed on, but this one was left behind because no one knew what species it was and so I kept it. 

(I remember Tsubaki-kun said something about this before…) 

[ Flashback ]

Yumeka: It belonged to my grandma, and then she gifted it to me. But it hasn't been looking very healthy lately. 

Yumeka: I always water it properly, though. 

Tsubaki: Water alone might not be enough.

Yumeka: Should I give it some fertiliser?

Tsubaki: … I wouldn't know if you don’t give me more details. 

[ Flashback End ]

Tsubaki might know what the plant was called and possibly even help me bring it back to life.

That thought made me feel excited. 

…

Tsubaki: You’re here again. 

I smiled wryly at his usual bluntness. 

Yumeka: Remember the potted plant I have at home that I mentioned to you before?

Tsubaki: … Yeah, the one that hasn’t been looking healthy. 

It made me happy to hear that he actually remembered what I’d talked to him about, and I quickly pulled the potted plant out of the bag I was carrying. 

Yumeka: I was hoping you could have a look at it for me. I’ll pay you accordingly for the consultation, of course. 

I put the pot on the floor and sat down next to it.

Yumeka: Its leaves kind of look like the flowers you had here the other day. 

Tsubaki: You’re right. I think they’re the same species. 

Tsubaki crouched down on the other side of the pot, facing me. His eyelashes cast faint shadows over his beautiful shadow-blue eyes. 

(Wow…) 

Tsubaki’s face looked as delicate and radiant as a glass artwork when seen from up close. 

Even though I was there to show him my plant, my heart secretly raced with joy over the way he closed the distance between us. 

Yumeka: Umm… the leaves are still intact, but they look smaller than before and the tips have turned brown.

Tsubaki: It’s root crowding. 

Tsubaki stated without a hint of hesitation while pressing a finger to the surface of the soil.

Tsubaki: The pot’s filled with roots, so you should transfer the plant to a bigger pot.

Yumeka: You can tell just by looking?

Tsubaki stood up, walked over to a corner of the shop where stacks of various types of flower pots were sitting, and looked through them. 

Tsubaki: The brown tips on the leaves are caused by sunburn. Was this kept under direct sunlight? 

Yumeka: I moved it into the sun because I thought it wasn’t getting enough sunlight. Looks like that backfired on me. 

Tsubaki returned with a terracotta pot in hand.

Tsubaki: In summertime, it’s best not to keep it in places with too much direct sunlight. 

Yumeka: Okay, I won’t.

I answered honestly and clapped my hands to praise Tsubaki’s knowledge. 

Yumeka: You’re amazing, Tsubaki-kun!

Tsubaki: Not really. 

He responded curtly and set the terracotta pot down on the floor with a dull thud.

Tsubaki: Is this pot okay?

I looked at the pot, and back up at him.

Yumeka: Eh!? Are you going to do it for me, Tsubaki-kun? 

Tsubaki: It’s better if I did it instead of a novice like you. This plant is important to you, isn’t it? 

I nodded.

Yumeka: My grandparents used to run a cafe. 

Yumeka: They had many potted plants lined up in front of their shop, and this was one of them. 

To me, this potted plant was a memento of them, and something to remind me not to give up on my dream.

Yumeka: I may not know what it’s called, but I don’t want it to wither away.

Tsubaki: It’s a tea plant (camellia sinensis). 

Yumeka: Eh?

Tsubaki: The name of this plant.

Yumeka: Does that mean this can be used to make tea!?

Tsubaki: If you use a microwave, you could process the leaves at home to make sencha (green leaf tea, non-powdered tea). 

Tsubaki: Since your grandparents ran a cafe, your grandmother might’ve made some herself.

I took another closer look at the plant, and held one of the glossy and slightly curved green leaves between my fingers. 

Yumeka: I never knew tea plants bloomed such beautiful flowers.

I had memories of the sweet, refreshing smell they carried.

Tsubaki: That’s because they belong to the camellia family. 

Tsubaki spoke rather awkwardly as he lifted the plant.

Yumeka: Fufu, so it’s kind of like your relative.

Tsubaki: … 

Holding the pot in his hands, Tsubaki turned and went to the back of the shop. 

The fact he responded to my joke made me so happy I couldn’t suppress the smile spreading across my face as I watched him. 

Tsubaki: I'll keep this here for a while.

Yumeka: Okay, got it! 

And that was when it happened — a soft, sweet, and pure fragrance wafted through the air. 

(Wait. Huh? This scent…) 

— It was the scent that always clung to Tsubaki, but I knew it from somewhere else. 

[ Flashback ]

Gashadokuro: Oh, that's Tsubaki-san’s natural scent.

Yumeka: Natural scent?

Gashadokuro: They say there isn’t anyone or anything else in this world with the same scent! 

[ Flashback End ]

(No way… it can't be.) 

…

One morning, on a day off, I was off to visit my grandparents’ graves.

It was almost their memorial day. 

(How strange. It’s always sunny when I go to visit their graves.) 

(It was sunny on the day they passed too.) 

Adjusting the strap of the large bag filled with cleaning tools on my shoulder, I looked up at the sky.

Although it hurt to see my grandfather gradually lose his vitality after my grandmother passed away, 

(I’m sure he saw grandma again in heaven.)

I planned to order flowers from the flower shop for offerings, and I also wanted my grandparents to see one of Tsubaki’s wonderful bouquets. 

…

Grandma Hana: Oh, Yumeka-chan, it’s rare to see you here at this time of  day.

Yumeka: I’m going to pay my late grandparents’ graves a visit today. 

Grandma Hana: Ah, that explains the big bag you’re carrying. 

Yumeka: I was hoping to ask if Tsubaki-kun could prepare some flowers for me to give them as offerings. 

Grandma Hana: But it’ll be tough work for you to carry all those items by yourself…— 

Grandma Hana suddenly clapped her hands together, looking like she just had a brilliant idea. 

Grandma Hana: In that case, why not take Tsubaki-kun with you to carry your things! 

Caught off guard by the unexpected suggestion, I panicked, trying to stop Grandma Hana as she turned to call for Tsubaki-kun who was in the back.

Yumeka: No, it’s really fine! Tsubaki-kun has work to do here.

Grandma Hana: I can manage the shop alone today. We don’t have many orders, you see. 

Yumeka: B-but… 

Tsubaki, someone who hated being outside, agreeing to such a request was utterly unthinkable. 

Tsubaki: What? 

Tsubaki emerged from inside the shop and asked Grandma Hana what was going on, then turned to me with a suspicious look. 

Grandma Hana: Yumeka-chan is going to visit her grandparents’ graves. Tsubaki-kun, you should go with her.

Tsubaki: Hah? … Why should I?

As expected, Tsubaki was clearly irritated, making me shrink away nervously. 

Yumeka: Umm, I’m fine, really. I just need you to prepare the flowers, that's all…

Grandma Hana: I can’t just stand by and watch a girl carry that much luggage on her own! 

Grandma Hana: It’ll also be dangerous if you can’t use both hands in case something happens. 

Yumeka: Not at all! The cemetery is located in a peaceful area. Although it’s on a hill in the suburbs… 

Grandma Hana: See? Walking up a hill is tough! See, Tsubaki-kun? You should carry her bags for her. 

Tsubaki: …

Grandma Hana: You’ll go, right?

Tsubaki: …...

Grandma Hana: Right? 

Tsubaki: …… Fine. 

After much pushing from Grandma Hana, Tsubaki reluctantly agreed. 

…

Yumeka: Sorry, I ended up dragging you along with me.

I apologised to Tsubaki as he walked next to me, carrying my bags.

Tsubaki: Nevermind. It was Grandma Han— the shop owner’s orders. 

Tsubaki swung the bag off his shoulder and pulled out the cleaning tools inside.

He handed me the broom and dustpan, then picked up a bucket and made his way to a nearby faucet.

Yumeka: I’ll do it.

Tsubaki: Leave it. You focus on sweeping. 

Tsubaki silently and efficiently washed the gravestone, arranged the flowers, and lit the incense sticks. His movements showed that he wasn't new to this. 

Yumeka: You’re surprisingly used to doing this, Tsubaki-kun.

Tsubaki: I help Grandma Hana with this all the time. 

Yumeka: I see.

After placing the incense sticks in the burner, Tsubaki took a step back.

I took out my prayer beads and looped them around my wrist before closing my eyes, picturing the faces of my beloved grandparents. 

Whenever I thought of them, the background would always be that cafe with a calm and comfortable ambience that they used to run — it was a place that felt like home. 

I opened my eyes and looked over my shoulder.

Yumeka: I wanted them to see the flowers you picked out. I’m sure they’ll be very happy too. Thank you. 

Tsubaki: I see. 

The soft pastel flowers Tsubaki arranged for me as offerings glowed in the sunlight. 

Tsubaki: Are your grandparents the reason why you work at a cafe? 

The unexpected question from him made me freeze for a moment. 

(Tsubaki-kun isn’t interested in people, and yet he just asked me about myself…) 

Tsubaki: It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it. 

He must've misunderstood my silence. 

I quickly shook my head.

Yumeka: That’s not it. I was just surprised you’d ask about me… 

I’ve asked him countless questions, and yet I’ve never shared about myself — it didn't quite feel fair. 

And so I decided to open up to him about my circumstances and the longtime dream I carried in my heart. 

Yumeka: It’s my dream to rebuild the cafe my grandparents ran. 

Yumeka: I want to create a safe place where everyone who visits will leave with a smile on their faces. 

Yumeka: That’s why I work at the cafe after my day job at the company, saving money and learning as much as I can. 

Tsubaki: … That’s also why you’re always so tired.

Tsubaki stared intently at me. 

Yumeka: I just think this is the time in my life where I should be pushing myself to the maximum, so… 

His words were like a bullseye, hitting the exact thing I’d been trying not to think about. 

Tsubaki: You’re trying too hard.

Tsubaki: I know you want to achieve your dream as quickly as possible. 

Tsubaki: But you can't do anything for anyone else if you don’t take care of yourself first. 

His words left me stunned. 

Tsubaki: No matter how much fertiliser you give to a seed, it’s not going to sprout and be in full bloom the next day, is it?

Tsubaki: Plants store water and sunlight to prepare themselves to bloom at their own pace. 

He turned his gaze back onto me and continued in a calm tone. 

Tsubaki: I think you need to learn how to care for yourself too, not only caring for a plant. 

(Take care of… myself…) 

His words melted deep in the depths of my heart, reaching a place I never knew was so desperate to hear those exact words. 

(But I still… don’t know how exactly to take care of myself.) 

I thought of the tea plant I left in Tsubaki’s care.

If I stayed by his side, perhaps I might learn that someday. 

Tsubaki: …

Yumeka: … 

Carrying that small, quiet, flickering flame of hope in my heart, I returned his gaze—. 

[lilacgaby]

‧₊˚ what are we?

...nothing. right?.₊˚⊹

convienence. a means to end. that's all this was for both of you right? when katsuki is fed up with the crazed fangirls who just won't leave him alone, he works out a deal with you. it was just coincidence he had a huge crush on you.

☆pair. 2ndyear!katsuki x reader. tags. fake dating!trope, fluff, reader is academically flopping for a bit, pet names, cursing, fighting (verbal), happy ending wc. 6k

ღnote. sorry that this took so long lol! i wrote this in chapter form if you'd like to read it here, but this one shot is the same thing.

post-war brought troubles for a lot of the students in class 1-A. especially bakugo katsuki.

he had to completely relearn how to write with his other hand, had to learn how to fight without injury to it.

and he had to learn to deal with his crazy amount of fangirls.

his fight had been broadcasted, the manner in which he pushed himself to the very brink broadcasted to the world. his victory brought spoils, though not in a way he expected.

he didn't expect to be chased down the hallways every morning, to have a line of girls wanting his autograph as he ate. he didn't expect to be gifted things, things they just assumed he liked, but couldn't be farther from the truth.

luckily, you seemed to like chocolate. he found refuge these days sitting on the roof floor of U-A next to you during lunch, passing you the chocolate gifts he'd been given.

he hated chocolate. but to be honest, he loved seeing you smile.

"thanks 'suki." you said for the nth time, picking the best chocolates out of the box and leaving the gross ones alone.

"yeah." he sighed, glancing at you occasionally as he moved to support the weight of his head with his hands. he found himself speechless around you often. words failing as he leant into the comfort of your presence.

you were about to say something, he thinks. your mouth was open though the blaring of the bell cut you off. "oh, let's go 'suki." you said, holding your hand out to him.

he took it, letting you pull him up and holding onto your hand for just a second too long. you dumped the rest of the chocolates in a trash can and made your collective way down to 1-A. you laughed at how he seemed to try and hide behind you, eyes darting around for the general course girls who seemed to have nothing better to do than follow him around.

they didn't come though. he saw a group of them but when they saw your proximity to him..

they left him alone.

a lightbulb went off in his head, he mentally kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. as he sat in class, eyeing your seat between momo and jirou, he thought about how he'd ask you.

test papers were being passed out, graded ones. "yo man," kirishima started, looking over his paper, "what'd you get?"

katsuki scoffed. "what do you think? another 100, easy as shit."

kaminari groaned beside him, "you're cheating or something! i got an 80."

"that's high for someone like you!"

"hey!"

"aw man, i got a 70. you're so manly bakubro!"

"yeah, guess i am."

katsuki tried to resist the turning of his head, he really did. but he wanted to know what score you got, if you did well. though from the expression on your face and the way momo patted you on the back,

not to mention the red ink used all over your paper. he knew you didn't.

"man this totally sucks!" you exclaimed, your hands clutching the paper of your test. "i studied and everything, i don't even need math, im a hero for crying out loud!"

jirou's teases and momo's comforts faded into the background as he only focused on you, and the nagging feeling for him to help you.

with another ring of the bell and a sigh from mr. aizawa, katsuki left early to try and beat the crowd of girls who seemed to pounce on him.

he didn't though, he found himself at the entrance at U-A, almost to freedom when the crowd pointed at him, "that's him! i can't believe it!"

"dynamite, an autograph please?"

"hey- don't be so casual. it's lord explosion--"

"who cares? i want a photo!"

at that, they chased him. all his progress down the stairs and through the halls was gone as he was led right back down to class 1-A. he stupidly lead himself right back into a corner.

his head darted around, until he noticed a tuft of familiar hair in the classroom. you hadn't left? oh well, he needed your help and quick.

you were sobbing internally, looking over your horrific test score with a sad expression. a 70? you might as well just drop out now.

as the hours of studying you'd done for waste passed over in your mind, a noise caught you off guard.

he had burst in, making your deflated form jump off the desk. "katsuki, don't scare me like that!"

he rushed over to your side, grabbing your hand off where it was hanging limply on the desk. "be my girlfriend for a second."

the words barely even processed in your brain before you were being manhandled off the desk, your mind rushed to catch up. "wait-- wha-"

before you knew it you were led towards the door of obsessed fan girls. his hand was intertwined tightly with yours, a slight flush on his face.

"listen up." he started, making his fans shush eachother. "my girlfriend hasn't been appreciating all your bullshit. and neither have i, so for the love of god stop it already."

he pulled you alongside him, "move." a path opened for the two of you, letting you two through. he walked you to the entrance, no words spoken between the two of you until you stopped infront of the lockers where you'd keep your shoes.

"[name]-- uh." he took a breath, his heart sped up rapidly around you. it sped up at the simple tilt of your head.

"so. if you help me with this shit, i'll tutor you.

or whatever."

a hand was behind his head, his averted eyes now focusing on you as he awaited your answer with baited breath.

you had an expression of thoughtfulness on your face. your finger on your chin as you looked up to the ceiling to think.

'have everyone think youre dating a cute boy and get a tutor?'

the pinkie of your hand shot out, a closed eye smile on your face. "i'm in!"

a soft smile graced his lips, his pinkie intertwining with yours and sealing his fate in more ways than one.

because you really did have him wrapped around your finger. literally and figuratively.

"let's go to my room so we can talk over it!"

you really were going to be the death of him.

it's not like he'd never been to your room, just not in a situation like this.

not when he'd declared himself your boyfriend an hour earlier, not when his hands were sweaty with his nervousness, and not when you'd agreed so hastily to be his.

he wondered if you'd accept if anyone else asked you. if izuku or todoroki had been facing this situation instead of him.

"'suki?" you patted the side of your bed next to you, "sit with me."

he sighed, the thoughts disappearing from his mind at your words. he really was whipped for you.

"yeah, yeah. i'm goin'" he sat beside you, oddly stiffer than normal. he held his own hands as he waited for you to say something.

"okay, so, we should have like-- a plan or something right?"

"a plan? what the fuck for?"

"like so we don't get caught faking this or whatever. if they find out your fans will just come back running, no?"

he shuddered at the thought. "yeah, don't wanna deal with that shit."

"right? so the first part of our plan, is that everyone has to think we're dating. cool?"

katsuki's mind was racing. cool? more like the best thing that would happen to him. he felt as if everyone knew of his crush on you.. except for you.

being to say he was all yours and that you were all his, even if it was a lie..

"yeah, it's cool."

"great, that's really the only thing we had to establish. we hang out a lot anyways so, we'll just have to be affectionate or something to seal the deal."

his heart jumped at the idea of hugging you, wrapping an arm around you, holding hands with you in public. the ghost of a smile came over him.

"right."

"cool. so nothing else matter--"

"we're starting your studying shit tomorrow. the next test is next week, so we don't have time to play around [name]."

"ughh. i wish you forgot about that." your head fell into your hands. "i hate math, what do i even need it for?"

"advanced math, nothing really. but estimates are important in hero work. estimating time, the abilities of your body, the amount of civilians, all that stuff."

"you're such a nerd."

"hah?"

he continued explaining the importance of math to you despite your grievances. his finger was pointed in the air, you swore you could see the need emoji popping over his face.

your eyes closed, the weight of the day, your grade, and the thought of studying alongside a nerd like katsuki tiring you to no avail. you yawned, laying your head on his shoulder.

you could hear the thumping of his heart, the racing of his blood in his veins. it rocked you to sleep, "wake me up later, m' a take a nap." you mumbled against his shoulder, before falling asleep.

his mouth shut, eyes peeled on your body that now clung to his side. his face grew hot, when did it get so hot in your damn room?

he tried his best to stay awake, to let you nap and wake you up in the morning. but as the clock hit eight o clock, the time he was supposed to head back to his dorm.. he found himself stuck in place.

not by an invisible force, not by some obligation. it was only the thought of wanting to be with you, next to you. wanting to let the comfort of your weight next to him drive himself to sleep.

so he did. he fell asleep, letting his head lay on top of yours, holding your body closer to his. shutting his eyes.

the light of the sun woke him up first, you didn't close your blinds yesterday, and the sun shined brightly,

directly into his face. he groaned, his voice deep from sleep as he peeled himself off of you. he was confused from fatigue, wondering why he was still in your room.

he felt an arm around his waist, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes to see it was you who was holding him close. he thinks you were using him in place of your huge teddy bear, the one laid neatly in the corner of your bed.

his heart rate quickened once again, wanting to go back to his room, but fighting the urge to stay looking at you.

an absentminded hand moved a couple strands of your hair out your face, pinching your cheek when he got bold.

you don't wake up, he sighed a breath of relief. 'til he felt your body start to stir, you pushed your head more into his chest, your eyes finally starting to open slightly.

"oh? g'morning kat'." you were sleepy, your words slightly slurred and muffled from how you were pressed against him.

"you slept here?" you asked, pulling away from him as you moved to stretch your upper body.

"uh-- yeah." he was once again lost for words at the sight of you, your shirt slightly pulled up from how you'd slept, your hair messy from the lack of a protective style before sleep.

"sorry for waking you up then, 'suki."

"no, i was already up. i just didn't wanna wake you."

"well, you failed." you joked. "anyways, you should get out of here soon, if iida sees you he'll probably flip out and tell mr. aizawa."

"right."

"let's walk to class together!" you clasped his hands in yours. "okay?"

you were going to be the death of him once again. "okay."

you let go and he got up, ruffling his hair slightly and looking back at you who sent him a small smirk and wave. before slowly walking out your door. he did his best to keep his movements quiet and minimal.

he was at the elevator, before uraraka walked out. shit. "bakugo? what are you doing here?"

"uh.. got lost."

her face scrunched in confusion, a knowing smile on her face after a second. "right.. tell [name] good morning for me."

".. tell her yourself." he got into the elevator, already seeing the grin in uraraka's face as he went up a floor to his room.

the same grin everyone greeted him with as he went to sit next to you in the common room, having made you some breakfast. he and you were all ready, you had refreshed your hair from when he was playing with it, simple makeup and your uniform ironed. he admired you while he ate his meal.

"ah, thanks 'suki."

"mhm."

you moved to whisper in his ear, "why's everyone looking at us?"

"fuck if i know."

"so you two lovebirds aren't gonna say anything?" denki said, putting his hands on his hips as he looked you two over.

"'bout what?"

"that you two are totally dating!" mina exclaimed, pointing at you. "and you didn't say anything? wow [name], i thought.. we were closer than that." she mock fully cried.

katsuki was about to say something, you cut him off though. "i thought everyone knew?" with a tilt of your head, a question mark almost visible from the blank expression you wore.

the class only sighed, kirishima shrugged his shoulders. "yeah, we should've guessed. i mean bakugo had a obvious crush on you for the longest."

"yeah, good looks man." sero gave him a thumbs up.

"tch. let's go [name]." he sat up, placing his and your finished dishes in the sink before you followed behind him.

"right! bye guys!"

you grabbed his hand as you walked out the door. nobody was around, there was no need to keep up appearances now.

but that didn't stop him from holding your hand tighter.

and that didn't stop you from clinging even more to his side.

it seemed you two were now together all the time. a clingy couple is what you seemed like to your friends, and more importantly his fans.

at lunch he could now be in the cafeteria again, you were stuck his side as you ate, an arm around you as you shared his food, insisting his cooking was better than the U-A food.

you were caged in by his body, you really did just look like a sappy couple to everyone.

during class, he was caught glancing at you. a lot. he'd roll his eyes and pretend nothing even happened, but everyone knew he was far gone.

during training, as you sparred you noticed he was going harder on you than before. some would think that because you were his crush he wouldn't get so aggressive,

too bad katsuki only wanted to push you harder, get you to show the strength he saw you unleash on those villains in the war. he wanted you to be stronger beside him, if he was number one, he'd want you to be ranked closely to him, because he knew you were strong enough.

that didn't mean it wasn't any more hard to fight him, the man was a maniac.

"you can chill out you know!"

"what? can't take it?!"

"no, slow your fucking roll!" you barely dodged his other attack, just barely moving out the way as he threw an explosion in your direction.

you now had met the conditions to use your quirk, comeback. by generating a max of 8 orbs, they'd absorb energy that you could use back for your offense. the only downside?

melee attacks couldn't be absorbed at all.

a kick to your legs sent you to the ground, you dispersed one of your orbs with the explosion stored inside of it.

"be nice and let me win!!"

"no."

he dodged your attack and pinned you to the ground. he won.

"you're so mean 'suki." you shoved him off you, making him grunt. "a good boyfriend would've let me win!"

a nagging voice in the back of his head was telling him he wasn't yours, you weren't his, and that he was only doing this for his convinience.

"well, i guess i'll be a better one next time."

even that voice couldn't deny that the way he cared for you wasn't anything less than real. that even if this relationship was fake, that he was undoubtedly yours. that the way he held his hand out to you, lifting you as gently as he could fathom.

"wanna go again?" he asked, a boyish smirk on his face.

"you know it!"

your plan of tiring katsuki out with exercise didn't work, so you found yourself in his room at his desk. showered and wiping the dew off your neck with a towel, you sat in front of him with a book splayed open.

he was hammering topic after topic into you.. statistics or something? you weren't really paying attention, you were more interested in the bulge of his muscles out of his tank top.

his words were a blur when you suddenly found yourself reaching a hand out to feel his muscle,

your hand squeezing it.

'firm. hm.' you thought, until he pulled you away, an incredulous look on his face. "this is why your class ranking keeps falling [name]. focus!"

"how can i focus with you in front of me? it's like dancing a donut in front of a cop!" you whined, face planted onto his desk.

"you're.. insane."

"you love me though, don't you?" the words slipped out of your lips without a second thought, your face flushing slightly. "oops, sorry! almost forgot you arent my like-- real boyfriend!"

he swore he heard a bit of disappointment in your voice, felt a bit of reluctance in your movements as you pulled away at him, saw a bit of longing in your eyes.

"uh.. yeah. 's fine. let's just.. take a break." he said, motioning over to lay on his bed and do nothing for a little while.

if you would've told him a couple months ago that he'd be sat, face to face, body next to body, hands awkwardly close to each other as you remained in silence. you'd had a movie on in the background, something stupid he thought. not like he payed attention to it at all.

it was comfortable, being around you. he'd be a liar if he said that he didn't like the fact that everyone now thought you were his and vice versa. not just his fans, not just yours, but your mutual friends. family.

"do you wanna try again?" he asked after a while, voice soft and his hand moving to rub his eyes. it was his bedtime, eight o clock sharp, but he'd break it for you.

"hm? to be honest no." you moved to face him. "you look tired anyways 'suki, you should sleep."

he grumbled, his eyes closing slightly as he slowly swatted your hand away from his face, his grip lingering on your wrist.

"right." he yawned. he didn't know if it was the sleep or impulse, maybe a mixture of both. but he pulled you closer to him. making you crash against his chest with his head in the nook of your neck.

"stay." he uttered, his breath flush against your neck making the hairs stand up.

"katsuki?" you thought you were dreaming. you'd move to pinch yourself if you weren't being pinned down by him.

"please?"

"..okay." your words barely matched your actions. you cuddled more into him, pulling him impossibly closer as you melted into eachother.

a blanket was thrown over the two of you. you fell asleep in his arms, the beating of his heart matching yours as you breathed a sigh of realization.

you were horribly in love with katsuki bakugo. and he was with you.

your 'fake' activities as a couple were coming along a little bit too easily to the two of you.

feeding him a snack in his room as a joke, him finding out he kind of liked being babied, him blackmailing you so you shut up.

all couple things. normal couple activity.

you didn't even have to continue those things behind closed doors, but it just came so naturally. it seemed wrong not to do it.

it seemed wrong for him not to sling a hand over you, not to hold your hand when it was so close to him, not to move the stray strands of hair and tuck it behind your ear.

it seemed wrong for him not to save a spot for you at lunch, not to wake up a bit earlier and slip out of your sleepy grasp to prepare you a meal alongside his.

not to make some breakfast for you, light or heavy, depending on what he'd learned you preferred.

not to walk with you to class, even walking with you to go see your general studies friend in the morning, leaning against the doorway with a smile on his face as he watched you rave on about a show you'd watched recently.

why wouldn't he do it if he could? why shouldn't he watch your favorite shows just to have things to talk to you about?

he found himself fighting to stay focused during your study sessions now too. he found himself noticing things about you, the smaller things.

how you'd flip your hello kitty pencil around while you were speaking. how you'd bite your lips in concentration, your expressions of disbelief when you actually started getting things correct.

he'd have to cover his hand with his face. you were just too cute.

sometimes he'd even get distracted mid sentence. he was explaining simple things over again, just to make sure you knew what it meant.

but it was hard even keeping eye contact with you.

"so, in this problem x would be.. uh.." he went silent, his mouth open but no words escaping.

"x would be what? 7?" you showed your page of work to him, with a nervous smile. "if it's not right tell me already! i know im kinda dumb, it won't hurt my feelings too bad i swear!"

he looked down back at his page. mentally slamming his head onto the table, before recovering. "yeah, no you're right. you got it."

you slammed the work onto his desk, "finally! then we can break now right?"

"yeah, 'guess so."

"let's do something fun. take a walk, my legs hurt from sitting." you pulled him up by his hand, dragging him to his door. "hurry up!"

he couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him, you really reminded him of just how young you two were. how he was just a high schooler with a huge crush, how--

"why are you looking at me like that? are you sick?" you placed a hand on his forehead, making him promptly rip it off. a scowl quickly replaced the smile that been on his face moments prior. "no i'm not. let's go."

you walked hand in hand, the sunset the background for your 'date'.

the last few days, he'd been nervous to bring up what was happening between you. he was nervous to ruin the odd relationship you two had, he didn't want to lose you. he thought the things you two had been doing crossed the line between friendship and lovers.

you didn't have to do any of this. though he was sure you knew that already.

"math exam's tomorrow."

"don't remind me! you totally ruined the moment you know."

"you'll pass. i mean, i was your tutor after all. if you fail with me as a teacher? you are a lost cause."

"that's not nice to say." you ripped his hand away from yours, crossing your arms on your chest. "thats really messed up 'suki."

he leant down to face you, the sun goldening you two in its wake as he grew a cocky smirk on his lips. "oh really?"

"yes really."

"n' what're you gonna do about it?" his face was barely an inch away from yours. with a glance to his lips, he moved closer.

he barely pecked you, before he heard a loud, obnoxious idiot speak from behind him.

"[name] and bakugo are totally making out over here!"

denki and kirishima were looking at the two of you, a glare crossed over katsuki's face as he basically dragged you with him back into his dorm. he was about to leave you at your dorm, the hallway empty since curfew was around the corner.

he held your hands in his, running his thumb over the knuckle of yours. he intertwined your fingers, only letting go after a while.

he tilted your head upwards with his two fingers, wordlessly asking for permission. moonlight now struck you two as he moved in.

uninterruptedly, he kissed you. deepening it with a pull of the hand, holding you against him.

he let go after a while, his internal clock signaling it was almost time for curfew.

before he left, he whispered to you. "i don't.. really care what we're labeled. and if this shit is real or not.

i just want to be close to you."

he turned, walking to the elevator. leaving your breathless, with your heart in your throat.

no more words were spoken between you two, not as you screamed into your pillow, and not as he stared up into the ceiling of his room.

you passed that math test. and each assignment that went with it.

the end of the year was now coming quickly, of the school year that is. you and katsuki still kept up your 'act', the activities now stretching to dates after school mixed in with your study sessions.

one's that'd leave the touch of katsuki on you more than the touch of knowledge. but it was working nonetheless.

it was all good between you two, an eternal honeymoon it seemed. after all, by now it had been at least seven months since this began. your class ranking was higher, he no longer had to worry about strolling through the halls, it seemed nothing could get in your way.

well, besides two things.

one: the fact that you two were scared to label in between yourselves yet, too bashful to call him your boyfriend and you his girlfriend in private, yet proud fully admitting it to others.

two, the girl currently straddling him with no regard to you whatsoever. your entire cafeteria table was staring at her, looking at what katsuki would do to move her off.

but when he didn't immediately, didn't immediately curse the girl out and push her off him? you did the job for him.

you yanked the girl by her hair, sending her to the floor with a tray of food falling onto her body. all attention was on you as you stared at katsuki, your mouth agape in anger.

"what the fuck bakugo?" you ignored her, even stepping on her leg slightly as your hands were agitated, your whole body was. you didn't even know why you were jealous. this wasn't real, it never was, he was just playing his role too well.

you should've known katsuki would go too far. he always did.

"babe-- it's not what you think-"

"then what was i looking at? and don't call me that. don't- don't fucking call me anything. we're over."

you knew to him that probably meant something different. you acclaimed the despair in his eyes to the loss of protection, to the loss of ease as he walked in the halls and the lack of paparazzi that'd ask him questions on his love life.

but to him it was so much more.

it was those things, yes. but it was more so the thought of losing you. the thought of the affection over the months being nothing but a memory and not his future. the thought of not having you close to him.

the thoughts of becoming nothing to you, less than a friend.

he didn't know why he didn't move, it was like he physically couldn't. the look in the girl's eyes, the grip she had on him, the weird smile. he recognized her as one of the girls who usually would be in the crowd following him around.

"you don't mean that." his voice sounded more desperate than it had in the whole time he'd met you, more longing slipping through than he intentioned.

but the sun's casting light had moved away from you, casting you in a shadow. "i do mean it. fuck you."

he was going to run after you, to chase you as you slammed your lunch tray into the trash. heading up to the rooftop to he alone.

but a hand, mina's, pulled him back. "i think.. you did enough bakugo."

she went after you instead, promising to bakugo she'd check on you.

fangirls were one thing? but a messy public breakup where you were never really something in the first place? surprisingly worse.

he'd been more snappy lately, his aura making the girls around him keep their distance.

he'd become quieter, closed off. you didn't come to eat lunch with him anymore, obviously. and he didn't go up to the rooftop to join you.

he didn't know how to speak to you, how to explain what happened, how to say that he was sorry.

he ran the scenario in his head a million times, thinking over the girl's quirk that had forced him into place. but it sounded so convenient, like he was lying.

but since your entire relationship was based off of one, he didn't know how to approach the topic in the first place.

a week. a week passed before he could muster up the words to speak to you.

a week of being ignored in the hallways, side glances and being walked off on. a week of not having you by his side, not having you to talk to, to study with,

to kiss.

you were alone on the rooftop, eating silently as you felt a presence behind you. you saw his hair in the shadow and sighed, placing your plate onto the floor next to you. "what?"

"let me talk."

"...fine."

he breathed a sigh, hands balling as he forced the words out. "i know what you saw. and i know it was bad, but listen. that.. girl. she had some quirk on me or something."

he paused, seeing as your movement shifted. he took the fact that you didn't leave as a sign to continue.

"i couldn't move, i would've. you know that. but, it was right for you to be fucking pissed. i'd be too.

and i know, this is my fault in a way. i've been.. a fuckin' loser about this." his hand went up to support his head, his eyes averting from where he felt yours eyeing him.

"i needed to ask you out, officially i mean, a long time ago. it was wrong of me to use you-"

"it wasn't like that and you know it." you moved now to face him, you taking his hands in yours once more.

"what are we? to you i mean."

"right now..

we're nothing, right?"

your eyes widened, his eyes came back to look at yours.

"what?"

the words settled between you, it sent a cold shiver down your spine at the implication.

"wait-- fuck i'm messing this shit up. i mean, we're, not anything right now. we weren't anything."

your heart sank, eyes falling to the floor though your hand still held by him. your bleeding heart was in his grasp too, it was apparent.

"but,

i'd like to be? if you'd have me."

he squeezed your hand tightly. "i, i think i did this all out of order. but, would you go out with me?"

you let out an anxious laugh mixed with emotion. relief? despair? you honestly didn't know. tears burned the corners of your eyes.

"you're-- you're real weird, you know that?"

"is that a no."

"no, it's a yes. i think."

"ya think?"

"you don't get to question me!"

"yeah, whatever." you shared a laugh of relief together. he held you, moving away to bring something out of his pocket.

a small bento box for you.

you gasped at the sight of it, it was so cute. "thank god! i hate this school shit." you sat down, patting the side beside you, prompting him to sit down.

"wow, a heart? don't tell me you like me or something katsuki."

instead of deflecting, of telling you to buzz off, of shoving you lightly, a small smile came over his lips once again. after a beat, he laughed boyishly.

"you caught me."

...

he patted your back as you choked on the heart shaped seaweed.

your first date was cute, a small picnic with the country of musatafu as your backdrop. it was weird, this scene had played out between you two various times. in his room, in public, in private, to everyone else you two had just recovered from a messy breakup. and yet,

your stomachs were filled with butterflies at the affection between you two.

your rank was high, the dates were endless between the two of you now. study dates, just going to cafes, mundane things became more when you were by each others side.

years passed, and your poor dorm was going mostly unused. you'd sleep in his bed most of the time, actually- you'd spent most of your time in his room. he even cleared out a section for you in his closet despite the fact that yours was perfectly fine.

graduation came along, your careers came rushing at the two of you.

you were the top rated woman hero, and he was number one. just like he dreamt, just like he imagined the future would be for the two of you all those years ago.

you were picking out some drinks from the vending machine, a pocky hanging out your mouth as you decided between two flavors.

you finally chose, having two drinks in your hand for you and katsuki when he suddenly dragged you into an alleyway, grunting when he pushed you against the wall.

deja vu? maybe, you felt like you lived through this before, the same mindless stampede of girls rushing past.

"i told you to clip down your hair."

"shut up. don't they even care that we're married now? why do they fucking bother?." he sighed, annoyed as he lightly grabbed the can out your hand, his frustration not matching his actions.

"well, maybe we need something that'd make it even more official." a lightbulb went over the both of your heads. you faced each other, a streetlight letting you see the slight pink tint of his cheeks.

"a ca-"

"a baby."

you laughed, keeling over at the sight of his face that grew impossibly red.

you went home, hand in hand, the photos of the two of you together making rounds in the media again.

but as you laid with his head laid on your lap, your head rested comfortably against the furniture you'd chosen for your home?

you couldn't help but feel like everything worked out perfectly.

and with the new addition of your family laid sleeping on top of katsuki's chest.

tags (can't tag orange :c): @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @amayaaaxx @i-the-fluffo @irenne-stans @hisonlyobsession @dead-fish-soup @pretty-sparkle-bomb @matchat3a @yura-4life @djlance-rock @zuzukusna @hiimsaraandyou @uy242c

[sunderwight]

Shen Qingqiu gets hit by a rare wife plot.

And it actually is a rare one because Airplane didn't even write this one down! He toyed with the idea before ultimately dismissing it as being too controversial for the tastes of his readers, and adapting only a few of the same elements for a subsequent chapter of PIDW.

But apparently the System can pull inspiration even from the author's thoughts, especially when there's nothing to contradict the concept and even a few threads of it still to be found in the original, and somehow Shen Qingqiu runs afoul of this previously-unwritten plot bunny.

The core concept was a cuck scenario, of all things. One of the Luo Binghe's wives gets afflicted by a poison that can only be cured by dual cultivation, but specifically can't be cured by by dual cultivation with anyone who has mastery over demonic qi. Something something conflicting energies, something bullshit something. Peerless Cucumber would have ripped the chapter to shreds if it had actually made it to publication, not just for the insult of implying that Luo Binghe should let one of his wives sleep with someone else, but also because why would Luo Binghe -- able to use both kinds of cultivation -- somehow not be able to keep his demonic energies from influencing the situation just in this one case?

Well it turns out that in his specific case it's because sex gets him too worked up to keep things strictly separate, and the degree of control required to treat the affliction whilst dual cultivating is extensive enough that even a little slip-up would be fatal.

Of course, in the actual chapter of PIDW, this same plot device was altered and used to create a harem orgy where Luo Binghe oversaw several of his wives "treating" one another's "afflictions", but Shen Qingqiu just had to go and get a fatal of dose of the more severe version (he didn't realize the risk, because again, this version didn't even make it into the novel).

Anyway, of course this ends up with Shen Qingqiu trying to figure out another way to cheat death, while Luo Binghe goes through the five stages of grief before accepting that he's just going to have to let someone else fuck his husband. This leads to an argument because of course Shen Qingqiu's not going to cheat on Luo Binghe, and he's especially not going to force one of his martial siblings to sleep with him, come on now, and Luo Binghe trying not to cry tears of blood while bringing himself to explain that a fair few of Shen Qingqiu's sect siblings would be happy volunteers for this task.

Shen Qingqiu's just like, well of course you think that, for some bizarre reason you think everyone wants to sleep with me. Bias is what it is. Really it's flattering Binghe but obviously every other person we know is straight, that's just statistics, and everyone in the entire cultivation world knows that Qi Qingqi would sooner chew glass than have sex with a man!

Luo Binghe, weeping now: Shizun please. This is serious. I need you speak words that make sense in the order you're saying them.

They argue, they reach an impasse, the clock is ticking. So Luo Binghe reluctantly turns to the most reliable source of information (outside of himself) on Manipulating Shen Qingqiu to Do Things That Are in His Own Best Interests -- Shang Qinghua.

At first Shang Qinghua is like, well I'm flattered Junshang but I don't think I could shoulder the baggage of fucking Cucumber-bro for you. But then Luo Binghe is like no I need someone who is way hotter and more capable than you, if Shizun is going to fuck someone else at my behest they're going to be TOP TIER so that when I fuck him better afterwards he's really impressed with me. Liu Qingge, obviously.

Not Yue Qingyuan, Shang Qinghua asks? (He'd take the insult a little more personally but honestly he's just relieved that he's not being asked to navigate this social minefield.)

No, Luo Binghe says. He's not 100% sure he could beat Yue Qingyuan in a fight even to this day, which in his mind also translates to not being 100% sure he could do sex better than him either, so Yue Qingyuan is an emergency last resort. He's way more likely to cry on Shizun too and Shen Qingqiu is into that shit, it's too risky.

Alright, says Shang Qinghua, and he thinks about it, and then he comes up with the beautifully simple solution:

Luo Binghe has to fuck Liu Qingge first.

Because of course the crux of the issue is that even with permission, Shen Qingqiu doesn't want to cheat on Luo Binghe. But in the twisted annals of his mind, Luo Binghe himself is still entitled to a harem, even if Luo Binghe is also happily monogamous in this life. So if he shacks up with Liu Qingge first then Liu Qingge essentially joins Luo Binghe's harem, at which point if Shen Qingqiu sleeps with him it's not an affair, it's the gay version of those fanservice-y 3P scenes that the wives in PIDW did. Shang Qinghua translates the concept as best as he can to Luo Binghe, who -- though slightly dubious -- must accept that so far Shang Qinghua's wisdom hasn't steered him wrong with regards to his shizun's eccentricities.

Luo Binghe's mission: seduce Liu Qingge, or at least convince him to have sex, or possibly to lie and (convincingly!) tell Shen Qingqiu that they had sex. That last one is the longest shot so he's probably going to have to just fuck him (Luo Binghe still underestimates how willing his husband is to believe that just about anyone would have sex with him).

Shang Qinghua's mission: convince Shen Qingqiu that he owes his husband steamy threeway gay sex or something so that this plan he pulled out of his ass doesn't backfire and get him killed.

[a-b-riddle]

Part Six

Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.

None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.

You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.

The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.

By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.

A colleague. You had a colleague!!!

The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.

It was one of them.

You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.

Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.

A vision.

You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.

"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"

"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"

"Listen," "Bon-"

"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."

"If you just let me make it-"

"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."

"Just give me a chance."

"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”

So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."

"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.

"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”

“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.

There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.

“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”

You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.

Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.

"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.

But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.

No.

If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.

No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.

"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."

"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.

He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.

"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.

His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.

There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.

He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.

He doesn't throw you on the bed.

Not this time.

He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.

But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.

"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.

He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.

"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.

"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.

In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."

You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.

He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.

With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.

It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.

The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"

"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.

His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.

His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.

"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.

It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.

You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.

The end.

He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."

You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.

"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.

He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.

"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.

He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.

His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.

You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.

You needed it to stop.

You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.

I could die like this, Lass.

Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.

He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.

You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.

You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.

You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.

Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.

"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.

"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."

You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.

"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.

You weren't too far behind.

He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.

But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.

"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."

He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.

in out in out in out.

Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.

His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.

"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."

He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.

"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."

You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.

Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.

"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.

The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.

Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.

"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."

"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."

"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."

"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"

"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."

"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."

"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.

"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."

"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"

No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.

But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.

You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.

So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.

"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.

"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.

You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.

You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.

Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.

"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"

You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.

Three minutes.

Three minutes.

"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."

You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.

You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.

You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.

"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.

"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."

"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.

[reallyromealone]

Title: Idol

Chapter: 2

Part one part 2 part 3

Fandom: Kpop demon hunters

Genre: omegaverse

Warnings: omegaverse, male reader, fluff, smut themes, Omega male reader

Notes: thanks for all the positive feedback, the comments really pushed me to write a part 2, I was in a writer's rut and kind of thought no one liked my writing so thanks, it really gave me a push

Summary: reader has to stay home but home isn't much safer

🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛

After the visit from his sister and her friends, (name) didn't want to leave his nest for a second, the Omega feeling anxiety flood through his body at the reality of the situation. He always wondered who his fated mate was, if they were strong and kind or if they were abrasive and closed off but five mates?

And demons? What sick joke was this?

Robbed of the chance of true love before he even had a chance to feel it! He wanted to cry a bit, his heart sinking and breaking at the fact.

Turning on the television, scrolled through the channels until he saw a...hot sauce eating competition?

He was a little enamoured by his soulmates, watching them struggle to drink the hot sauce but baby drank it no problem and his reaction made the Omega giggle a bit at how relaxed he was, he couldn't look away from the screen and was surprised when he saw his sister and friends appear "oh that definitely wasn't a cameo" he mumbled amused at the trio who were definitely trying to kill the Saja boys.

When the segment ended, he turned off his television and curled into bed as the days insanity caught up to him, his heart feeling weak and heavy at the same time.

Maybe a nap would do him good...

Tap tap tap

Tap tap tap

(Name)s eyes blearily opened, his phone saying 3 am as the tapping continued, the Omega sitting up and looking out his window, seeing golden eyes staring back at him. He was on the 20th floor, how was this possible?! Standing up, he stepped back from romance who floated infront of the window with a sweet smile "come on, we just wanna talk" his words like silk and (name) moved closer only to close his curtains.

"Don't be like that! You feel the pull too!" The demon laughed through the window, unable to get in and (name) glared "don't make me call my sister!" He barked out and he saw baby's eye through a sliver of the curtain "you won't be able to hold out longer, you and I know what will happen if you're not near your fated mates"

"I'll risk it, thanks."

"But can your body handle it? The pain of it all, your heat will kill you without us"

He hated that the demon was right, his heat would be extremely dangerous without them even present "we left something for you, outside your door" Jinus whisper felt like it was right in his ear and he had to turn around to make sure he wasn't with him "sweet dreams, Omega" and with that, they were gone and (name) was left feeling empty, he hated that they made him feel like that.

He knew he shouldn't go check what they left him but he couldn't resist the curiousity, not knowing the alphas were silently cooing at him as he opened his door, their omega was so cute! (Name) Looked at the expensive bag and opened it tentatively, eyes dilating at the flood of pharamones that smacked him in the face and realizing that it was scented clothing. Unable to resist the purr, he pulled a sweater out and immediately shoved his face into it, believing he was alone.

Going back into his apartment, he let himself believe for a second he had human alphas who gave him these shirts, sweaters and even a few pairs of pants. He couldn't help but put them into his nest, slightly curious about whose scent was whose... The spicy scent or the scent of woods... Who was the ocean scent?

They were all so good...

His omega felt at ease, purring slightly and calmly weaving the clothes into his nest and putting one of the sweaters on himself.

No one had to know.

It was just for comfort, he couldn't have his alphas but he could pretend even for a moment.

Right?

When morning came, he quickly put the sweater he was wearing in his nest, no one but (name) went into his nesting room, not even Mira.

Unless it was for his heat and the Alpha needed to force feed him some strawberries or something, the elder sibling was fiercely protective of (name) and by proxy so we're the other HUNTR/X girls, the Alpha trio treating him like their little brother too.

It was nice being cared for...

Eating breakfast and brushing his teeth, he got himself ready for the day, only to remember... He couldn't leave the house.

"Right... I can't go outside"

Not even for a moment.

Plopping infront of his computer be began working on assignments for his classes, curled in a HUNTR/X blanket that Zoey gave him, his apartment was filled with their merch, even super rare and exclusive items... All autographed.

They did it to tease him but he loved supporting his sister and her friends and besides.... Some of the stuff was pretty cute.

He was just thankful he didn't have guests over, it wouldn't be easy to explain this all.

He sat for hours working on his assignments, it was his last year of university and he just wanted it over honestly....

Start his career and do his best.

Ding dong.

Confused, the omega stood up and walked to his front door and peeked through the peephole to see a delivery person... Did Mira order him food or something?

Opening the door, he left the latches on "can I help you?" He asked cautiously only for the door to be pushed open, the delivery driver looking a lot less human and the Omega began hyperventilating, he didn't have the spirit magic like his sister did. "Soooouuul...." The driver contorted and lunged at him.

"No!" Another figure threw the demon away from (name) and the sigils around the room burned into a crisp from the pure demonic power.

'the... saja boys?' (name) thought while his mind raced and dragged away by baby, the demon in question kicked into the underworld.

"Are you ok?" Jinu asked softly, in his human form and gently rubbed the omegas cheek with his hand, (name) looking at him concerned "t-thanks..." He mumbled and didn't stop the alphas from crowding him, the fear and adrenaline making his brain fuzzy and they were warm...

"Good omega... Such a good boy" he heard one of them mumble, soft rumbles and gentle touches, they were so close to having him to themselves.

"You don't have to be strong anymore, let us care for you" hands moved around and (name) whined at the gentle caresses, the adrenaline slowly wearing off to realize mystery was between his legs and nosing at his thighs "bad Saja boys!" He hissed out and pulled away from the alphas who followed him closely, the alphas watching their omega with love and... Something he couldn't describe, like a fixation to him.

Like they were amused.

"You guys need to leave" (name) hissed out and Jinu tilted his head "do you need more nesting materials, Omega? Or are you still using the ones we gave you" he knew the answer but the flustered look on (name)s face when he realized they knew "y-you guys were watching?!" He hissed out and Abby tilted his head, watching the Omega eye his abs for a second and stretched just to show him a bit more. "Of course? Why wouldn't we?" Baby seemed confused on why that was even a question, staring at (name) almost bored and eyebrow raised.

"God, what's wrong with you guys! Seriously!" (Name) Hissed out to them "honestly, we won't work out! How do I know you guys aren't trying to steal my soul!"

"Because we would have already, obviously"

That was... True, he supposed.

"So what do you want" (name) glared suspiciously at them "you, obviously" Jinu said like it was a silly question, though we need to update your room... Seriously are you like a mega fan or something?"

"My sister gave me these!"

"Suuure, fan boy"

(Name) Glared at them, they could easily tell what sibling of HUNTR/X (name) was related to, the alphas noting how Mira and (name) had the same angry face.

It was adorable, honestly.

"Well it won't matter, my sister is going to defeat you guys..."

"Then can we love you until then?"

[jamiewrites-stuff]

Hypnotic

[002] [004]

WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE😭 WHERE DID Y'ALL COME FROM- Thank you for enjoying my fic so far, I'm overwhelmed-

Anyways, here's another one. I'll try to make the chapters longer but no promises 😗✌

Please make sure to comment on what you think so far, I love reading the comments, it motivates me to write more💕💋

Btw, I gave them names to this- well, I didn't come up with the names. Credit goes to: @filijester (I think? Please correct me if I'm wrong) , I just picked these because it seems like the names a lot of people agree on, plus I think it fits them.

Abby Saja: Beomseok

Romance Saja: Jae-Hyun

Mystery Saja: Garam

Baby Saja: Daeun

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They descended from the ground, their feet gently planting on the stone pavement.

Luckily no one was around to witness such a sight.

They didn't want to be bothered by the trouble of humans seeing them appear from the depths of Hell.

"This is.. much different from what I was expecting"

Beomseok muttered, letting out a small whistle as he looked around. It's been a while since he visited the human realm, its the same for all of them.

"What now boss?"

Jae-hyun asks in a teasing manner, leaning an arm against Jinu's shoulder.

The Leader of this little group stayed silent, eyes carefully observing the area around them.

The Tall buildings, the blinding lights, the loud noises. He was in unfamiliar territory.

He didn't want to admit it.

But he didn't expect to get this far.

He had a plan in order to defeat the hunters, but he didn't think far enough ahead on what they'll do in between.

"You'll need a place to sleep"

A familiar voice said, as the ground in front of them opened up a portal, a silhouette of a familiar woman made her appearance before them.

But she looked more solid.

More human.

She wore a Black suit along with a matching pencil skirt and heels, though some of the top buttons of her suit were open, revealing more of her cleavage.

Her eyes lingered at the group.

She did all that she could to improve their appearances, but she could tell that her work wasn't finished yet.

"What are you doing here?"

Jinu questioned, not expecting her to join them on the surface, especially in that outfit.

"I figured you needed a manager"

She smirked, making some eye glasses appear at just the flick of her wrists, calmly putting them on.

She had to look the part if they were gonna pull this off.

"And based on what I'm looking at, I'm right"

She stated, giving them one final glance before turning around, she snapped her fingers, gaining their attention as she walked on ahead.

"Come."

With one simple command, the group looked at each other hesitantly before following after her.

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They arrived at a Hotel, it seemed like it was the expensive kind based on the decoration.

They just walked right in, None of the guards didn't bother to question their identity and just allowed them entry.

Their appearances immediately caught the attention of nearly all of the people in the area, yet they paid them no mind.

Beomseok glanced over at a group of women gazing at him from the waiting area, he couldn't help but send them a little wink, causing one of them to dramatically faint into another's arms.

He smirked, getting the confidence to walk towards the counter.

"A room for 6, please"

He said, placing a hand on the marbled surface as he looked down at the person behind the reception counter.

She only gave him a look of unamusement, despite her coworkers practically drooling at the mouth at just the sight of him.

"Do you have a reservation sir?"

She questioned, moving her gaze down at her computer screen, typing away at the keyboard.

Beomseok's smirk faltered at her attitude towards him.

That wasn't right.

He couldn't understand.

Why wasn't she reacting like the rest.

He glanced at the others beside her, seeing that familiar desire in their eyes, before his gaze went back at the Woman, who looked at him with complete disinterest.

It took a toll on his growing ego.

But before he could say anything, he was pushed aside by their self proclaimed Manager.

He let out a small shriek at her rough push, making him stumble back until his group mates caught him just in time.

"Excuse him, he's new"

She chuckled, leaning her body against the marbled counter. Her voice definitely caught her attention as the Woman looked away from the screen to look at her.

The woman took in Y/n's appearance, how the suit hugged her figure perfectly, that seductive gaze, her hair perfectly in place, not a single flaw in sight. The receptionist's body tensed up a bit as a swell of sudden nervousness overwhelmed her.

"I apologize if we're drawing in unwanted attention.."

Y/n muttered, placing her chin against her palm, referring to the crowd that was beginning to form behind them.

"It was.. Never our intention to cause trouble.."

Her said, a soft smile appearing on her lips.

The woman's ears turned a light shade of pink, as she tried her best to keep her focus on her eyes and nowhere else that was deemed... inappropriate in the workplace.

She cleared her throat, fumbling a bit on the keyboard.

She couldn't afford to get distracted.

"That's.. Quite alright, but we still need a reservation Ma'am."

Y/n smirked, her hand reaching over to the computer, grazing her fingers lazily along the screens edge.

"Oh, I'm sure we do..."

She said, keeping the woman's attention purely on her, the computer screen glitching for split second before reverting back to normal.

Y/n smiled innocently, leaning back a bit as she tapped the monitor.

"Y/n L/n, care to type it in for me Doll?"

She instructed, sticking out her bottom lip just a bit in a slight pout, drawing the other woman's gaze for just a split second.

Before she grew stiff and awkwardly typed in the name.

As if by a miracle, her name appeared on the screen, assigning her and the group to the penthouse, located at the very top floors.

She cleared her throat, turning back to Y/n who was wearing a patient smile.

"Yes, I see that you have a room reserved"

She nodded, grabbing the room card and handed it to her. Ignoring how the moment their fingers brushed against each other, it sent shivers down her spine.

Y/n grinned, happily taking the room card key, while her little demons leaned closer to her to get a good look at the key.

"Thank you so much"

She smiled, subtly bumping her elbow against Jinu's stomach.

He stammers, glancing at their manager then at the receptionist, quickly catching on.

"Yes, thank you"

Jinu said, politely bowing at them with the rest of the group mimicking his actions.

Y/n glanced at him with a hum, it was good that he caught on fast, but not fast enough.

That needed work.

With that thought in mind she walked on ahead, the boys swiftly following close, stepping inside one of the Elevators.

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Once they were inside, Y/n lift herself off the ground and went to the couch, a large cloud of history formed around her body for a split second.

Changing her clothes into something more comfortable.

Jinu watches Y/n drift down on the plush mattress, now wearing a Bathrobe that loosely hung on her body.

He took off his shoes, placing them in the shoe compartment near the door before stepping further inside, the rest followed his actions, just purely by instinct.

"Why are you helping us?"

He couldn't help but ask, that question has been ringing in his ears for a while.

Why did she agree to help him?

He would've left the topic alone, if it weren't for the fact that she's here with them on the surface, instead of falling back into a deep sleep.

Actually going out of her way to become their manager.

Y/n flicked her wrist, letting a glass of red wine appear in her hand, she didn't answer his question right away.

She let's his thought linger, she lifted the glass to her lips and carefully drank from the glass, her body melting against the couch in utter relaxation.

"Ease up Jinu"

Jae-hyun said, patting their leaders shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, the others were already making them selves at home.

Daeun and Beomseok were raiding the kitchen for something to eat.

Garam quietly made his way to the couch, casually sitting down beside Her, staying perfectly silent as usual.

"You'll get wrinkles from thinking too hard"

Jae teased, placing a finger on the others forehead, pretending to smooth out the imaginary wrinkles.

Jinu scoffs, lightly slapping his hand away with a small glare, Jae chuckles before walking away to go join the other two in the kitchen.

Y/n sighed, still feeling the man's gaze linger at her for some sort of answer.

"I told you didn't I?"

She says with a playful smirk

"I needed some good entertainment"

She chuckled to herself, her eyes hiding a mystery to them that Jinu couldn't seem to solve, at least not yet.

Her eyes flickered to the side, flickering with amusement as she pointed the glass at the spot beside him, where a familiar Tiger with quite a derpy expression made his appearance.

On top of his head sat another familiar face of a bird wearing a cute Gat.

"I was also interested in that little cub of yours"

She says, cooing when the Tiger slowly made his way towards her.

"Sweetest baby"

She whispers, letting the large Tiger practically lay himself on top of her, he let's out soft purrs nuzzling his head against her chin.

The bird cawed at his companion, flying over to sit on the backrest of the couch.

His eyes glaring at the Tiger, silently judging him for being so oblivious to the obvious danger, who was currently smothering him with scratches.

Jinu raised an eyebrow at the sight, not knowing how to feel about his large cat getting swept away so easily. So much for loyalty.

Garam slowly turned his head to the side, watching how Y/n smothered the Tiger with pets and small forehead kisses, unintentionally covering his blue furr with red lip marks.

His lips twitched a bit.

She didn't even notice how he slowly scooted closer to her on the couch.

"You're just the sweetest little thing, yes you are~"

She praised, finding a spot underneath his chin that made his purrs grow louder. Oblivious to the fact that the Saja next to her was quietly trying to get her attention as well.

Jinu shakes his head, letting out a deep sigh before turning around

Quite possibly to find a room where he could plan more clearly without any distractions.

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Taglist💋: @gremlinartstudio @nisarelle @enerofairy @ajunoiseee @whodis-26

[kdh-tally]

Abs of Abby didnt do much for me in Soda Pop but the "Play me on repeat, kkeuteopsi in your head" and "I can be your sanctuary" part...OMG like the big step he takes, the hand movement, playing with the beads of the hat...LIKE STEP ON ME SIR... I would like to request Abby with your idol outfit (like the boots, the leather pants, the fishnet top...what a slut) × fem reader in which reader simps for him and he sees her as a plaything for a while but then falls for her. Ofc if you are okay with it you can add a little bit of spice aswell. Thank you!!

Abby x MakeupArtist!Reader [pt 1/3?]

Prompt : Abby is lowkey a flirt and his new makeup artist is just trying to survive.

Author's Note : I was actually trying not to die writing this. I kinda gaslit myself into liking Abby even more than i already do???? Anyways. This is pt 1 of 3 (3 parts for now). Imma capture the whole play boy thing in the next chapter! There's also a reason his other makeup artists kept getting fired... Not Proof Read!

Part 2

You were a makeup artist and you were really good at what you did. You were so good that many companies often sought after you to bring their crazy concepts to life.

Your favourite group to work for so far had been Huntrix. You had been working under their company for the past few years and figured you needed a change of pace. 

The girls, clingier than ever, absolutely refused. Begging and pleading with you to stay every day. Especially Rumi. You had no idea how but the girl had somehow gotten half her body tattooed without letting anyone know?

Not that it was any of your concern though. She seemed happier than ever and it made you happy as well. Unfortunately, they didn't succeed in their tactics.

"Come on Y/n, think of all the times we've spent here togetherrrrrrr," Zoey whined, laying across your suitcase so you couldn't put any more of your tools into it.

"Zoey, we're still going to hang out," you laughed at his childish behaviour. "I'll just be working somewhere else now."

"It's not the same Y/n," Mira grumbled, a pout on her face as she handed you everything you were looking for. Rumi nodded in agreement with her from your couch.

"You guys," you sighed, turning to the three of them. For a second, you felt like you were going to cry. You had been working under Eclipse labels for the last three years of your career. The girls had become your closest friends during that time. 

You knew that it would be difficult not being able to see them every day but you wanted to reach out and try new things. You wiped an unshed tear from your eyes before putting on a brave face. "Don't make me cry on my last day here," you sniffled. 

Immediately, you were pulled into a tight group hug.

--

The girls eventually let you go and finish packing. As you left they waved you off, making you promise to come back to hang out at least once a week. Sleep overs would happen every other day.

At your apartment, you began applying for new jobs. You were in no rush, considering you were great at your job and well known in the industry you had absolutely no struggle finding a new job. 

It didn't even take a whole day for you to receive a new job offer. It was from the Saja Boys, the new boy group that rivalled your girls. You hadn't known much about them or seen a live performance yet seeing as when they first arrived in Korea you were on holiday in Hawaii. 

You sighed, starting to do research on the group. Funny enough the only form of musical content they had uploaded was of their debut. It was on the street. They were performing such a go-lucky song that was so incredibly bright.

Honestly you didn't understand the hype. Soda-Pop was a good song.There was absolutely nothing wrong with the song. It was cute and a little catchy. Unfortunately, the whole aesthetic just threw you off. While the boys were cute, it was odd watching grown men jump around in bright neon colours.

It was a drastic change from Huntr/x and their girl crush concept. However, this was exactly what you were looking for. A change from the usual makeup art you had been doing all of your career. 

So with slight reluctance, you accepted the job offer, calling in to schedule an interview as well as your working times. 

--

It was a Monday when you started your first shift. You had been tasked with doing the boys' makeup for a variety show where they would show their fans a bit more of their personality while also teasing their newest comeback.

You were supposed to meet with your new boss, the head stylist, first. But you were already lost. 

"What is with fancy k-pop groups and huge buildings," you scoffed, walking around in your painful heels, why did you wear those again?, as you searched for anything that could possibly help you find your way. 

As you turned a corner, your eyes were set on a serious looking woman. You swallowed down your fear, putting on a face of completely fake confidence, and walked towards her.

As you stood before her, you cleared your throat, stretching out a hand. "Hello Angela. I'm Y/n, the makeup artist."

The woman looked up from her phone, eyes lazily staring you up and down before lighting up in recognition. Her posture changed immediately, excitement obvious with the way she was tittering on her heels. "Hi! You're so much prettier in person."

You couldn't help but smile at the compliment. Obviously you misread her, she seemed just as excited as you were. "I look pretty? You look stunning!"

The two of you went back and forth for a while, complimenting each other's style till she realised she was meant to be working. "Oh my days! I almost forgot. Let me show you where you'll be working today."

As she led you down the hallway, she explained that you were specifically going to styling Abby. Supposedly most of his stylists ended up quitting within weeks for unknown reasons. Angela told you about her theory. Abby had to be scaring them away or just straight up annoying them until they reached their limit. 

You laughed, this would be interesting. You vaguely remembered what he looked like. He was the muscular one in their bubble gum pop song. With the odd Hawaiian themed shirt.

She led you to what was obviously a private room, standing by the door and motioning for you to head inside. "This is where I leave you," she smiled. "Please don't quit. You seem super fun" 

You both laughed and made promises to hang out after if you survived. 

And with that you entered the room.

--

The room was bigger than you thought it would be, and it was empty. It was quite obvious that you had been the first one to enter. With a content sigh, you began setting up your materials. Makeup brushes, powders, glosses, concealer, everything one would possibly need.

Five minutes had gone by and the man still hadn’t come in, with a sigh, you lounged across the makeup chair, debating on whether you should change into a different top that you wouldn’t mind getting dirty. 

Before you could come to a conclusion, the door slammed open. You stood up immediately, bowing your head in respect before standing to get a proper first look at the man. Your eyes were going to fall out of your head.

“Are you my new makeup artist?”

It was an easy question. You should’ve been able to answer it with ease. But the way he said it??? The way he said ‘my’ as though you weren’t just working for him but you belonged to him? 

With a deep breath you nodded. “My name is Y/n and I’ll be working on your make up,” you more or less repeated his question. 

He did nothing but smirk before moving closer to you. Now for the reason you were flustered? This wasn’t the man you saw in the soda-pop music video. The man in that video wore some turquoise button up that was too tight for his body and a pair of skinny jeans. The man that was right in front of you was straight up shirtless.

You were staring up at him wide eyed when he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Are you going to stand there the whole time or let me sit down princess?”

You gasped in embarrassment before moving away, you didn’t need to look into a mirror to confirm how red your face must have been. “Stupid Y/nie,” you thought in your head as the man chuckled and got into the makeup seat.

Looking to the sky as though saying a quick prayer to the Lord, you gathered the courage to get started on his makeup. 

–

You were starting to understand why everyone before you had quit so soon.

The man refused to comply with anything you asked. You had been working on concealing his under eye bags when he began man-spreading. There was no way for you to work comfortably in front of him and you were pretty sure he knew it. 

You let out a sigh of frustration, backing away from him. 

He looked up from his phone to stare at you innocently. “Having trouble?”

“No,” you sent a fake smile. “It’s just a bit difficult to work when you’re sitting like that.”

He looked at you feigning innocence before sitting up. Putting his phone on the vanity before reaching out to grab your waist. It was only then that you noticed how much bigger he was compared to you. 

He maneuvered your body so you stood between his legs, giving you ample space to reach out for his face. You were left in a state of shock when he leaned back, a grin on his face. This wasn’t fair.

You were expecting a cocky man who dressed in mismatched neon highlighter outfits. Not this cocky, shirtless, muscular, fine as hell, really strong, nice looking, handsome, confident….

“Better?” he asked, breaking your thoughts.

You swallowed, nodding quickly before refocusing on your work. You forced yourself to ignore the way you were basically pressing up against him to reach his face.

–

You quickly learnt that he didn’t just get his makeup done in the room. Two of his outfit stylists had entered the room when you were working on highlighting his face. Fortunately, he had begun behaving so you were no longer standing between his legs but were instead standing beside him, gently brushing at his eyelids.

When the door had opened, you almost jumped in surprise as two energetic women entered the room. Your eyes widened at their outfits, pretty tight crop tops and mini-skirts.

As they laid eyes on you, you could practically see the excitement leave their bodies as they narrowed their eyes at you. One was about to speak, her gaze condescending when the other forcefully grabbed her arm to shut her up.

The other looked annoyed but quickly realized who else was in the room with you. “Abby oppa~” she cooed, your eyes widened, quickly realizing why they seemed so pissed. “Who is this?”

Abby, who had seemingly found peace in your hands, briefly opened his eyes to glance at them. “She’s my new makeup artist,” he said before closing his eyes, assuming you’d continue your work. There it was. The way he said “my” again.

The girls said nothing, but you could tell they hated you. They glared hard at you, distracting you from your work. Suddenly, you felt a firm squeeze at your waist, gasping in shock, you looked down.

Abby’s eyes were still closed but he was obviously getting annoyed at your long pause. “Are you gonna continue princess?”

You said nothing but continued your work, praying the two girls would stop plotting your death. 

–

Eventually, he had to get dressed. The two girls, after sucking up to him for a while, reluctantly left. You turned to the mirror to begin packing up, also to give him space to get dressed.

It had been a few minutes of silence when he spoke again. “Y/n,” he called out. You, none the wiser (even though you should probably be on guard at this point) turned.

How was the guy hotter than before? The boots, the leather pants, the fishnet top… He was still practically shirtless, his toned body only more defined because of the top. Your eyes trailed up to his face, he’d caught you staring again. 

“W-what do you need?” You fumbled over your words, facepalming mentally. 

He gestured to his lips, a knowing smirk on his face. “You haven’t put on the lipstick yet”

This man was actually going to be the end of you.

You rummaged through your pockets, finding a nice glossy purple colour. You moved closer to him, getting up on your tiptoes to reach him. He let out a chuckle, that did something to your brain, before leaning down so he was at your eye level. 

“Go on.”

You took in a breath, opening the lipstick before gently pressing it to his pretty, pink, plump, soft, shiny… 

Swallowing your nerves, you used your pinky to smudge the gloss so it stayed perfectly. Once you finished, you quickly backed away. He was in no rush to stand, putting on the black beaded gat on his head as he left the room.

“See ya princess.”

As soon as he left you let yourself fall to the floor. Why did you take this job??? You needed to tell Angela and the girls everything.

[bonus-links]

*waiting eagerly and patiently for directors commentary* :)

IT'S DONE RAHHHHHH ITS FINALLY DONE!!!!!!! I hope you all have enjoyed this chapter but I am REALLY excited to move on to what's next!!!!! i have been waiting literal years to get here,,,,

starting off with a few things: these frames are the same design from pt. 9, just damaged now. it's also uh. literally the same drawings KJSNFKJG listen sometimes I just have to make things easier on myself. also convenient crack through the hero of time's right eye >:-)

okay so the hero of time lore gives me a bit of a headache. let it be known that I understand in wolf's timeline, the events of OOT technically never happened. He knows the "hero of time" moniker bc he's met him, and i could've SWORN that name is mentioned if not somewhere in TP then in the TP manga. suspend ur disbelief for me lol

Anyway the idea is basically that post-game Wolf has done some digging to track down the person the Hero's Shade was when he was alive. I like to imagine he had some kind of bargain with Zelda where if he agreed to come to certain events she'd let him dig around in what survived of the archives after lol. I actually got stuck on this panel for a while trying to think of some other imagery that got this idea across without being so,,,idk on the nose? but i couldn't think of anything so i went with this HAHA. Even if Mask wasn't technically the "hero" in this timeline, I think he still ended up being a prominent figure, and some documentation of him would exist. An unfinished portrait, a text about the history of the royal guard, military records, correspondence between him and the castle, etc.

ALSO ALSO. how do they know they're talking about the same hero of time? well, they don't. they're making an educated guess lol. obviously whoever made this statue of the Hero of Time couldn't make it look exactly like him, but I feel like Wolf has noticed enough similarities between depictions to be like. hey wait a second

wake is trying to give a pep talk here like "come on guys, going on adventures is what we do!!" meanwhile Wolf and Loft are both like. yeah i guess leaving our loved ones behind with little notice to go on dangerous missions we may never return from IS what we do.....

speaking of which Loft is maybe technically being a little bit of a hypocrite here but I really think he's just trying to make sure Wake doesn't make the same mistake he did lol. he's feeling guilty

one of many things I really regret abt this chapter is not having Tetra and Loft have a conversation similar to the one he and BOTW Zelda have. I feel like Tetra's experience of getting to grow up outside of the pressure of the royal family or her role and then basically having it forced on her during the events of WW would be very valuable for him to hear. I had so many things I was trying to juggle this chapter and somehow that just slipped through the cracks 😭 im sorry tetra.

AT LAST!!! ANNA FROM FROZEN!!! when all that was going down a few weeks ago i was like GUYS GUYS WAIT. HE'S ALMOST HERE. does this mean I have to get a new icon now

in case its not clear (and it probably isn't) he's in the ALTTP lost woods!

okay so some of you may have noticed this, but up until now we've basically been following the thread of mainline games, starting where the timeline merged and working our way back to where it split in OOT. ALTTP is technically part of that, as the timeline where the Hero of Time dies. I have them all connected through the Lost Woods. The pitch for this was basically "wouldn't it be so fucking funny if Mage could've joined the story way earlier but didn't bc he was the only one with enough sense and also enough gall to just throw something through it." and then I couldn't NOT do that

so on that note, this is the BOTW lost woods. If you look closely, you can see Wolf in the distance.

I wanted to do something to establish him as a magic user! he could have just pulled these out of his bag but where's the fun in that. you might also notice that he's not wet because the rain isn't actually hitting him

ALTTP ZELDA MY BELOVED!!!! that's all

that's all i've got for now!!! bonus links turned 3 years old 3 days ago which is. wild. thank you all for sticking with this story for so long!!!

[izadi234]

A/N: Hello! I know I KNOW I said I would post the next chapter of Forget me not BUT! My sister got me obssed with Kpop Demon Hunters, and since its release, I've been down bad for every single character from that movie ever since so here is one of my ideas!

Famous Producer! Reader (Romantic) x Kpop Demon Hunters

Bodyguard! Father! Reader (Platonic) x Kpop Demon Hunters (kind of)

This small draft is about Huntr/x and I'm planning to write one about the Saja Boys in this same storyline.

ACTUAL FANFIC / STORY: Shooting Star 1

Imagine you being a famous producer. You've been working with tons of famous idols, from groups to solo idols, but the ones that were your favorite and the cherry on the top for your career were Huntr/x.

And no, you didn't meet them just because. You see, the girls need new ideas not only for songs or dances but to advertise and produce their songs at the beginning of their career and despite having the old producers from the 'Sunlight Sisters' their ideas were... old, and they didn't get the ideas that Huntr/x had in their minds.

That's when your father came in. He was a bodyguard, specifically the 'Sunlight Sisters' bodyguard and later on Huntr/x's. He saw how his girls struggled with explaining their ideas to the old producers, so he gave them your number, and after a lot of things about it, they told Bobby to schedule an appointment with you.

At first, you didn't think too much when you saw the email of this guy named Bobby and just decided to give it a shot because of the name of the group, which you found cool.

But your jaw dropped when you recognized the girls or, specifically, the girl.

Rumi. Kpop royalty. She was at your door with two of her friends. And she wanted you to produce their first song. Yeah, you.

You were a bundle of nerves, and to be honest, you made a fool of yourself in front of them. Just a bit. But they found that very cute.

"So... You're (Name), right?" Rumi asked kindly as she smiled at you

Meanwhile, you were staring at her and her friends as if you've never seen someone like them, but her voice pulled you back to earth.

"I uh... Sorry, what was the question?" You chuckled nervously

They couldn't think of you as more than a cute and a bit awkward producer but damn weren't their jaws down to the floor when you started working.

Your face changed immediately. Your eyes were focused, and your lips were in a fine line as they explained to your their song and ideas. They waited for you to interrupt them once you got confused but that never happened.

Once they finished explaining themselves, you started giving them some ideas and suggestions, leaving them completely surprised that you had understood their vision.

"We know there is a lot we are asking for, so it would be valid if you had doubts or didn't understand at all" Zoey said, a bit embarrassed, not by their ideas but the complexity and how she thought none of them could explain themselves

"Oh no. I understood," you assured her."So basically, what you want is..."

Yeah, and you proceed to explain exactly what they all wanted for their song and it's production.

Ever since that day you became their producer and friend... Well, at least that's what you call them, for them you were more than a friend.

But it wasn't only your personality or work that pulled them towards you. You had something special, something that made the moon honmoon around you react differently.

Around you, the honmoon was yellow, a very chirpy and happy yellow, but you never seemed to notice it, or if you knew it, then you never paid mind to it.

For our 3 hunters, it was fascinating and scary. Maybe you were hurting their honmoon without knowing, or maybe you knew about it but didn't know what to do about it. They were sure that you weren't doing it on purpose as they didn't feel tense around you but didn't know what to do.

That's when they went to Celine. She was impressed and excited which left the girls confused but then she explained herself.

"As you may know, yellow is one of the 5 principal colors of Korea. It represents fertility and abundance, but many years ago, it represented high status and wisdom. Ever since the first hunters appeared, there's been a few people who presented this kind of color with the honmoon. Those people had an ability that was believed given by the gods so they could help fight evil. They're gifted with powerful minds full of emotions and creativity, which later one was discovered could help the hunters write and perform their songs better and give the honmoon more strength. Not every generation was lucky enough to meet one of these 'shooting stars' as they called them, but the three of you must be the luckiest of all. Now that you're so close to seal the golden honmoon, this shooting star appears right in front of you. Let them help you, but don't tell them anything. They may get scared and don't understand our duty as hunters"

And that's how your friendship began.

Meanwhile, your father was happy that you had found some friends in those girls (even though he noticed the way the three of them looked at you or how they asked about you) and to be honest he would be more than happy to see you with them in a more romantic relationship but that was your decision to make.

"Hey F/N (Father's Name)! Have you seen (Name)? I wanted her opinion about some lyrics" Zoey said as she walked into a room where your father was resting and talking with Bobby

"Oh. They must be at their apartment" he said

"Really? Oh, well. And do they like jajangmyeon?"

"What does that have to do with checking some lyrics?" He asked her

"..."

"Zoey..."

Before anything else happened, Zoey ran away like a little child that had been caught painting the walls.

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

"Hey F/N! Bobby!" he heard Rumi's voice behind both men that were discussing the girls' schedule for the day

"Rumi" F/N greeted her with a small nod while Bobby greeted her with more energy

"I've been wondering... Is (Name) coming to our show tonight?" She asked a bit nervous

"I don't know. I guess so" he looked at herwith his eyes half open in a suspicious way

"Why?"

"I-I I was just wondering, that's all" she said nervous

"Yeah... right..." he didn't believe her

"And... are they free after the show?"

"Rumi!"

Then the girl ran off

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

"Hey F/N" Mira greeted him as he was checking the security points of a stadium where the girls were going to preform

"Yes, Mira?" He turned to look at her

"Which is (Name)'s favorite color?"

"I uh... it's f/c" he answered a bit, confused by her question

"Really? Thanks!" She turned around and ran towards backstage again

"Girls, I know her favorite color!" He heard her shout at the other two hunters

"Really? Awesome!" Some other voices could be heard from the backstage

"Wait Mira!" He called out for her

"Why do you wanna know their favorite color?! Mira!"

Yeah... Your father was a bit overprotective over you, but hey! He was your father. He had a valid reason.

But he still trusted those girls as he had seen them grown over the last years.

Everything was perfect for them. The honmoon was about to turn golden. You were by their side supporting them, oblivious about the risks they face every day and the importance of the songs you help to write and produce. F/N and Bobby were also by their sides and the fans adored them.

Nothing could go wrong, right?

Well, everything went downhill when a new boy band was forming at the Underworld.

Hello! I hope you like this small writing because I had fun writing it and I have more ideas! Still I would like to see if you had any ideas or something like that or even requests!

Anyway thank you so much and see you in the next one!

XOXO

-Izadi

[cyanide-siren]

pfft, we're not a couple

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You, Dean and Sam attend a Supernatural convention by Becky's invitation and see people dressed up as characters from your life. One couple, approaching you, is dressed up as you and Dean. Of course, you're just friends - right?

☆☆

"What the hell's this place?" you mumbled, looking around the people dressed to look like demons, vampires, werewolves and other monsters. But along with supernatural creatures, some of them were dressed in the same kind of clothes like you and the Winchesters did.

It was a convention for Chuck's books. The books about your life hunting demons. This can't be fucking real.

"Sooo, do you like it?" Becky asked, appearing next to you out of nowhere. God, how much did that girl piss you off with that wide lipstick smile of hers and pitched voice.

"Yeah, i absolutely fucking love it," you replied sarcastically, voice threatening and angry which Becky took a notice of and turned from excited to awkward. You didn't even care to look at her way.

Chuck walked towards the four of you, taking cautious and nervous steps. He had wanted to keep this a secret from you but of course Becky had texted the Winchesters from Chuck's phone.

"Listen, guys –" Chuck started but couldn't get very far with his words.

"No, you listen to us, you piece of shit," Dean growled, towering over Chuck right in front of him. "It's bad enough to write books about our lives without permission, but holding some kind of event to dozens of people about it? That's even worse."

"I-i didn't mean this to happen, but..." Chuck stuttered, afraid of getting a fist on his face if he said one more wrong word.

"Save it, Chuck," Sam spat and rolled his eyes.

Chuck was going to say something more in his defense until a man arrived next to him and started talking about the process of publishing new books to the series and pulling Chuck away from you.

Un-fucking-believable.

Soon, a random man and woman, holding hands, approached the three of you but looking especially between you and Dean. Their eyes widened both in surprise and joy.

"Oh, honey! They decided to cosplay them too!" the woman exclaimed with wide eyes and even wider smile.

"Wow, you look just like them," the man gasped, looking at the two of you from head to toe.

The woman was wearing almost exactly the same outfit as you, which gave you the creeps. She was wearing a wig too with your hair color, pulled up in a ponytail like your hair.

"Can we take a picture together, please?" the woman asked, already pulling her camera from her purse. All you wanted to do was to yank her fake ponytail and slam her on the wall, but you didn't want to cause a scene.

"You know, Dean and Y/N is one of my favorite fictional couples," the woman eagerly told you. "They are so meant to be."

Your eyes grew wider and cheeks turned slightly pink, panic rising inside your chest.

"Oh, no no, we're not, i mean, they're not," you stuttered, not getting the words properly out of your mouth.

"Yeah, they're just friends," Dean finished your sentence, eyes as wide as yours.

"Are you kidding me?" the man exclaimed. "The chemistry, both romantic and sexual, between them is insane! There's thousands of fanfictions of them too written online."

"Fanfictions?" Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, it's like, one of the most popular pairings in the fandom!" the woman said. She quickly looked around her to see if anyone was listening to your conversation and then turned her voice a little lower, "I'm writing a fic series about them together too currently, i've been working on it for months."

"Uh-huh," you mumbled, not knowing what the hell to say to that. Not knowing what the fuck those words even meant.

"Do you want to hear what it's about? I can send you a link," she suggested, looking excited for sharing her passion with someone else. "I'll be posting the next chapter tomorrow and..."

"No thanks," you declined, just looking at her like she had completely lost her mind.

"Anyway, how about the picture?" the man asked and already gave the camera to Sam. "You can take it, right?"

Sam just looked at the camera in his hand with a baffled and confused expression on his face, but as he turned his gaze on you and Dean, an amused smile spread on his face. Both you and Dean looked uncomfortable and horrified about the situation.

The woman pulled you next to her by your elbow and the man pulled Dean to the picture as well, putting an arm around his shoulder. You and Dean exchanged glances with each other, wondering if you should punch both of them with a fist on their faces or just give in and get it over with.

This better not be posted anywhere on the internet.

The expressions on both you and Dean's face were almost identical: a mix of confused, dumbfounded, terrified and slightly embarrassed. Sam only smirked, finding you and Dean's sudden awkwardness around each other amusing.

"Smile," Sam smirked as he was getting the four of you to fit the camera's screen. The two strangers pushed you and Dean harder against each other's shoulder.

No, you would definitely not be smiling, unlike these two weirdos.

When the picture had been taken, Sam gave the camera back to the couple who were more than happy how good the picture had turned out to be.

"Thank you so much! Have a good day!" the woman said and pulled you into a tight hug. You hadn't expected a damn hug so you just stood there, being suffocated.

"I think i'll go get a drink," you decided once the couple was gone, wanting to step away from Dean for a second. You also were in need of something strong to get through with whatever the hell was going on here. Just barely 10 minutes in and you were already losing your mind.

Dean was left alone with Sam, both of them looking after you for a moment. Dean turned to look at Sam who was holding his laugh.

"We don't look like a couple," Dean scoffed, but when Sam was silent, Dean's face fell and he looked a little more serious. "Wait, do we?"

"Yes, Dean, you do look like a couple," Sam said. "Been waiting for you to realize it yourself."

"That's stupid, we just flirt occasionally but it doesn't mean anything," Dean said and rolled his eyes, trying to brush it off. "We're just friends."

"Mhm, whatever you say," Sam muttered, letting himself smile when his brother didn't see.

Just a few metres away from Dean and Sam, one guy with yellow contact lenses in his eyes approached a fake Dean, saying with a grin, "What's with the face? Did i kill your mommy?"

Dean gritted his teeth, knowing he'd break that man's nose and crack his teeth if he had said that to Dean's face. To the actual Dean.

"Yep, definitely need a drink," Dean muttered, growing even angrier than he already was after entering into this building.

After Dean had swallowed almost a full glass of whiskey down his throat, he saw a man, assumingly dressed as Dean as well, talking with you in the distance. You laughed at something he said to you, hiding your smile behind your hand. Your pretty smile that made Dean's chest and stomach feel funny whenever Dean saw your smile or heard you laugh.

What was so funny? Seeing another man make you laugh twisted something in Dean's chest.

"Dean, just tell her already," Sam said behind him, noticing Dean's tight grip on the glass, knuckles turning white.

"Tell her what?"

"That you like her," Sam specified.

"She's a friend, that's it," Dean insisted, tired of stating the obvious to his brother.

"Yeah? Well, i suppose it's fine then that she's probably going home tonight with a different man when this is over," Sam said.

Dean went into a slight panic after hearing those words.

"Home? What? With who?" Dean asked, looking back at you talking with the stranger. "What, that guy?"

"See, you like her."

"Well, she can do as she pleases," Dean said, shrugging his shoulders like he didn't care.

"When are you going to stop being so damn stubborn?" Sam asked, growing annoyed of his brother not admitting to his feelings. Sam wanted Dean to be happy, to let someone love him, but Dean's constant resistance was making him lose his mind.

"I'm not stubborn."

"Mhm."

Dean noticed another man trying to flirt with you. At least that was what it looked like. You didn't look exactly convinced or impressed by the fake Dean's words, whatever he was saying to you, but it didn't mean that Dean wouldn't get a sting in his heart for having to look at that.

"That's not her type, she's not going anywhere with him," Dean said.

"And you know what her type is?" Sam asked. He highly doubted that you talked about your taste in men with Dean. Or that he'd be willing to listen to your dating life.

"Well, i know it's not that guy," Dean insisted.

You were pretty, anyone with eyes could see that. You were funny too, your sense of humor matching Dean's perfectly. You were sweet and caring. Damn it, Dean could spend hours on explaining all the good things about you that made people like you.

Who wouldn't be attracted to you?

You were just a friend. His best friend. He wasn't supposed to fall in love with his best friend. That was forbidden, right? Don't fall in love with your best friend. So, of course he hadn't done that.

But every time you smiled at him, laughed at one of his jokes, he felt his heart skip a beat and butterflies swarm in his stomach.

Was that love? No. You were a friend, that's all.

☆☆

You were pinned against the wooden floor, the ghost a small child holding a large kitchen knife against your forehead, ready to peel half of your scalp off. How was this kid so strong? It was like trying to push a grown man away from you with no result.

Then, the child burst into flames and ash until was completely gone. Those sons of bitches really managed to burn the bones?

Dean rushed to you, grabbing your hand to pull you up. Even he had been pinned against the floor by another child, not able to fight back either.

"Are you okay?" he asked in panic, breathing heavily. He cupped your face with his warm hands to examine your face closer, looking at the wound on your forehead, which was only a small scratch and didn't bleed more than couple of drops. A simple band-aid would be enough.

"I'm fine," you assured him and had a teasing smile on your face. "But it's kind of cute you're worried about me."

Dean just rolled his eyes and wasn't in the mood of joking around, the tone of his voice complete opposite from yours. "Of course i'm worried about you, i always am."

You swallowed, becoming more serious too and were suddenly much more aware of the small gap between the two of you. You were afraid that he was actually going to kiss you, but you were interrupted by Sam running into the room, out of breath.

"Oh, thank god, you're okay, I –" Sam sighed, relieved, but then noticed how close you and Dean were standing. Dean quickly let go of you and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, we're just fine," Dean responded. "Let's go."

But before Dean would manage to walk out of the room, Sam quickly stepped outside and closed the door, trapping you and Dean inside alone.

"Sam? Open the door," Dean commanded, not able to get the door open as Sam was blocking it.

"Not until you talk things through between each other," Sam shouted through the door, loud enough for you to hear him too.

"Talk what through?" Dean asked, annoyed at his brother.

"You know what," Sam said, frustrated of you and Dean being both so stubborn.

Now that there was nobody else around you, the atmosphere was more awkward than it normally was and both of you waited that the other would break the silence.

"So, that was fun i guess," you said after trying to think what to say what felt like forever, but couldn't come up with anything useful.

"Yeah, super," Dean mumbled, looking down at his hands.

Truthfully, you did like Dean, more than just as a friend, but you had crossed out the option of having a romantic relationship with him a long time ago, knowing that he didn't do long-term relationships and you didn't do short flings. Especially with your best friend. What if you told him about your feelings and he didn't feel the same? You'd make things between the two of you way too awkward.

"So... i saw you chatting with some guy earlier," Dean said.

"Yeah? What about it?" you asked, furrowing your brows.

"Just, i don't know, looked like you had a good time," Dean stated, looking around the room to avoid eye contact with you. Immediately after he had said those words outloud, he regretted bringing it up.

"Well, i guess he was kind of funny," you said and shrugged, narrowing your eyes and then examining his behavior. You started slowly walking towards him, a smile on your lips. "Wait, does it bother you that another man made me laugh, hm?"

"No," Dean scoffed.

"Dean?" you said, stretching his name longer and raising your eyebrows. "Sounds a little like you might be jealous."

"I'm not jealous," Dean denied, finally looking into your eyes. You were suddenly incredibly close to him, just a small gap between the two of you. Dean swallowed, his heart beating faster as your gaze pierced all the way through his soul. God, you had pretty eyes. "I'm not."

"Mhm," you hummed, not convinced at all. "So, you're fine if i go talk to him instead of you?" You put your hands on his shoulders, gently grabbing the collar of his shirt and twiddling it in your hands. "You can be honest. You wouldn't mind, hm?"

"Of course i'd mind, Y/N," he answered, voice louder than you expected, making you flinch a little. However, it didn't take you more than a few seconds for you to start to giggle.

"Someone's jealooous," you teased, Dean's face not amused at all. "Just admit it that you want me aaaall to yourself."

"And what if i do, hm?" Dean asked. "Want you all to myself."

Now it was your turn to fall quiet for a second, smile fading from your face.

Right then, Dean grabbed your face and pulled you closer, pressing your lips against his. The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but it wasn't just a gentle peck. It was hard, needy and like he was afraid you'd float away from him. When he looked into your eyes, noses almost touching each other, he read the expression on your face, shocked and taken aback, like you hadn't liked the kiss. That he had finally fucked up everything between the two of you.

Dean was just about to step back when you put your hand on the back of his head, slamming your lips against his again and taking him into a proper kiss. Dean almost instantly rested his hands on your hips, pulling your body against him. When you opened your mouth slightly, he had the chance to push his tongue inside your mouth.

Your body was going crazy, butterflies swarming inside your stomach, chest feeling warm and heartbeat rising faster. His touch was everything you had missed and needed. Having him touch you and hold you was like puzzle pieces fitting together that had been missing their other half for their entire life.

At some point you had to pull away to catch your breath and locked eyes with each other.

"Is it too much asked for if i'd be the only guy to be able to do that to you?" Dean murmured.

"You want to do that again, hm?" you asked, biting your lip to hide your smile.

"Hell yeah i do," Dean chuckled and was already about to pull you into another kiss, when, Sam dared to open the door slightly to peek inside.

"Chuck is on his way over here," Sam informed. "Might want to continue that elsewhere so he doesn't add that to his next book."

You immediately let go of Dean and started walking towards the door.

"Absolutely nothing happened here," you stated, but Dean grabbed your waist and pulled you against him before you managed to step out of the room, back on his chest.

"Yeah? Well something might happen in the motel later, hm?" Dean murmured into your ear, quiet enough that Sam wouldn't hear you.

But he did, in fact, hear Dean's words.

"And i will book a different room for myself," Sam said, shaking his head but also happy that he you had finally admitted your feelings with Dean.

☆☆

[lanadelspray02]

A BEAUTIFUL MISTAKE: CHAPTER 1

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content !!

hey guys! an anon on tumblr requested a friends with benefits series, so here it is. I will still be mainly focusing on hold me anyway, but i will every now and then release a chapter for this series. let me know what you think or if you even want me to continue it :) I honestly dont know how i feel about this.

crossposted ao3 here

masterlist here

wc: 7370

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

The AC in Azzi’s dorm apartment had been broken for two weeks, but neither of them seemed to mind tonight. The windows were cracked just wide enough to let in a breeze that barely touched the edges of the room, fluttering the corner of a Kobe Bryant poster on the wall.

Azzi was sprawled across the couch in biker shorts and a too-big UConn shirt, one bare leg tucked beneath her and the other brushing against Paige’s thigh. Paige pretended not to notice, or maybe she just didn’t want to admit how badly she did.

The music playing was a mellow, late-night playlist Azzi had made on Spotify, mostly H.E.R. and SZA, with a little bit of Brent Faiyaz thrown in. It pulsed soft and low from a speaker on the windowsill, fading into the quiet hum of the room.

Paige leaned back against the armrest, one socked foot propped on the coffee table, an almost-empty can of spiked seltzer dangling from her fingertips. She looked relaxed, but Azzi could feel the shift in the air. The slow burn of eye contact that held too long, the laugh that stuck in her throat half a second after Paige’s smile.

This had been happening for weeks. Maybe longer. Paige wasn’t subtle when she flirted, and Azzi wasn’t stupid.

“You're actually insane if you think Bryson Tiller clears Summer Walker,” Azzi said, grinning around the lip of her glass as she took another sip.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “He’s literally heartbreak personified. She’s great, but you can’t tell me Exchange didn’t wreck you in 2017.”

“I was fourteen in 2017.”

“Exactly. Prime wreckable age.”

Azzi snorted, shaking her head as she leaned over to refill her drink. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun, a few curls sticking to the back of her neck. Paige’s gaze followed the movement of her arm, the dip of her shirt collar as she reached for the bottle. She didn't say anything. Just sipped her seltzer and tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed the way Azzi’s thigh pressed a little closer to hers when she sat back down.

“You’re quiet,” Azzi said after a beat, tilting her head toward her.

Paige shrugged, lips twitching at the corner. “Just taking it all in.”

“Oh yeah?” Azzi asked, amused. “What exactly is there to take in?”

“You,” Paige said, and her voice wasn’t teasing this time. It was low and easy, like it had just slipped out, honest without asking for anything in return.

Azzi blinked, her expression flickering for a moment into something unreadable. Then she gave a lazy smile, one brow arching as she leaned in just a little closer. “You trying to be smooth right now?”

“Do I have to try?”

That earned a laugh, soft, close to genuine, and then Azzi reached out and flicked Paige’s shoulder. “Cocky.”

Paige didn’t move away. “Confident.”

“Same thing.”

“Nope.” Paige leaned forward, bracing one arm on the back of the couch behind Azzi’s shoulders. “Confidence means I know what I want.”

Azzi’s smile faltered just enough to make the air between them shift again. Paige’s fingers brushed lightly against the back of Azzi’s neck, not quite a touch, more like a suggestion. The music dipped into a new song, something with a slow bass line and lyrics they weren’t really listening to anymore.

Azzi swallowed. “And what is it you want, exactly?”

Paige didn’t answer with words. She just reached down, slowly, and curled her fingers around Azzi’s waist, firm but careful, and pulled her into her lap.

Azzi made a quiet sound, surprised more than anything, her knees folding on either side of Paige’s hips as she adjusted her balance. She was warm. Solid. Close in a way that erased the space between flirting and something heavier.

“That’s bold,” Azzi murmured, but her voice had dropped half an octave.

Paige looked up at her, hands still resting low on her waist. “You gonna stop me?”

Azzi’s hands landed on Paige’s shoulders, fingers curling slightly in the fabric of her t-shirt. Her smile turned sharp. “I didn’t say that.”

The kiss happened like an exhale, slow at first, then deeper, more deliberate. Azzi shifted her weight forward, pressing Paige back into the couch as her hips settled into the space between Paige’s legs. Paige let out a soft sound that might’ve been a groan, her hands sliding up Azzi’s back and pulling her closer until there was nothing between them but heat and history and the kind of want that had been building for months.

Azzi’s hair brushed Paige’s cheek. Paige kissed her harder. Azzi answered without hesitation.

They didn’t say anything for a long time.

Only moved, lips and hands and the slight, rhythmic push of Azzi’s body against Paige’s lap as tension coiled tighter between them like something inevitable.

 --------------------

Azzi’s mouth was on hers again, open and wanting, all soft lips and sharp edges. Paige couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed like this, like someone had been waiting for permission. Azzi shifted her hips in Paige’s lap, slow at first, testing, and Paige exhaled hard, fingers digging into Azzi’s waist. Her t-shirt had ridden up just enough to bare skin, and Paige’s hands found it greedily, warm, smooth, real.

Azzi pulled back just enough to breathe, just enough to look down at her with something dangerous flickering in her eyes. “Still think you’re in control?” she asked, her voice low and uneven, her hands slipping up under Paige’s shirt, palms dragging over her ribs, thumbs brushing just under the swell of her chest.

Paige licked her lips, leaned forward until her mouth was at Azzi’s ear. “Not yet,” she murmured, and then stood.

Azzi yelped softly in surprise as Paige rose to her feet, her arms instinctively winding around Paige’s neck, legs still locked around her waist. Paige held her easily, one hand under her thighs, the other braced across her back, guiding them through the small dorm apartment like it was muscle memory. The hallway was short, but the tension between them stretched it long, every second taut with heat, with the way Azzi’s breath caught against Paige’s neck, with the way Paige pressed her a little tighter against the wall as they passed, just to feel the gasp that slipped out.

Paige’s mouth found Azzi’s jaw, her throat, the place just beneath her ear that made Azzi twitch in her arms. Her grip tightened, and Azzi let her head fall back, lips parted, fingers threading through Paige’s hair as her body arched toward the contact.

By the time they reached the bedroom, they were both flushed, breathing uneven, teeth flashing between kisses that turned rough in the way that only happened when restraint finally snapped.

Paige set Azzi down gently on the edge of the bed, but Azzi didn’t let go. She pulled Paige down with her, dragged her into the sheets with urgency, and their mouths found each other again like they were starving.

Paige kissed her again, then shifted downward, dragging her mouth along Azzi’s chest, slow and open-mouthed, until she caught one nipple between her lips. Azzi gasped, her back arching, fingers tightening in Paige’s hair. Paige swirled her tongue around it, then sucked hard, just to see how Azzi would react. She wasn’t disappointed.

“Fuck Paige,” Azzi breathed, hips twitching upward as she tried to anchor herself to something. Paige moved to the other breast, repeating the same hungry attention, and Azzi whimpered beneath her, pulling at her shoulders, trying to get her closer, deeper, more.

Paige smiled against her skin. “You’re already so sensitive,” she murmured. “Bet you’ve been thinking about this, huh?”

Azzi opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t find anything but another moan as Paige’s hand slipped lower, past the curve of her waist, fingers teasing the waistband of her underwear.

“Say it,” Paige said, her lips ghosting against Azzi’s stomach now, moving lower. “Say you’ve been thinking about me.”

“I...” Azzi’s voice cracked, half a breath, half a confession. “I have.”

“Good,” Paige whispered.

She hooked her fingers in Azzi’s underwear and dragged them down, slow and deliberate, exposing her inch by inch. Azzi tried to close her thighs, overwhelmed, but Paige pressed a firm hand to the inside of one, pushing her open again. She kissed along the inside of her knee, then up, slow and hot and teasing, until she could feel the tremble in Azzi’s legs. Paige looked up, and Azzi was already watching her, eyes glazed over, lips parted.

“Don’t look away,” Paige said, and then lowered her mouth to her.

Azzi’s reaction was instant, a choked gasp, her hips jerking up into Paige’s face, one hand flying to the headboard, the other fisting in Paige’s hair. Paige groaned against her, tongue parting her folds and licking through them like she already knew every part. She was warm and wet and tasted like every fantasy Paige had tried not to let herself have.

Paige flattened her tongue, dragged it slow from bottom to top, then circled her clit, gentle at first, then faster, firmer, until Azzi was panting above her, thighs squeezing tight around her head. Paige moaned at the pressure, loving it, letting Azzi ride her face as she worked her tongue in tight, rhythmic circles.

Azzi’s voice broke on a curse. “Oh my God, don’t stop”

She didn’t.

Paige reached up, slipping one hand beneath Azzi’s ass and lifting her just enough to keep her in place, the other hand slipping between Azzi’s thighs to tease her entrance. She pressed a single finger inside, slow and deep, and Azzi’s whole body arched like she’d been hit with electricity.

“Paige....” It came out broken. Begging.

Paige added a second finger and started moving, curling with every thrust, tongue never stopping on her clit. Azzi was losing it, gasping, cursing, her heels digging into the mattress as her body fought to keep up with how good it felt.

Her voice was ragged. “Gonna....fuck, Paige, I.....”

“Let go,” Paige murmured, barely pulling back enough to speak. “I got you.”

That did it.

Azzi came hard, thighs trembling around Paige’s head, her whole body tensing, breath catching in her throat before breaking into a long, desperate moan. Paige didn’t stop, kept licking her through it, fingers working her slow and deep until Azzi was shaking, overstimulated, pleading softly through clenched teeth.

When Paige finally pulled back, her mouth and chin slick, she crawled back up Azzi’s body and kissed her. Azzi tasted herself on Paige’s lips, and groaned into her mouth, grabbing her face like she couldn’t stand to be any farther away.

“You’re fucking unreal,” Azzi whispered when they finally broke apart, voice hoarse.

Paige smirked, brushing sweat-damp curls away from her forehead. “Told you I knew what I wanted.”

Azzi pulled her in again, rolling them so Paige was beneath her this time, and kissed her until her legs started shaking again, until wanting turned into needing all over again.

Azzi kissed her like she was making up for all the time they'd spent pretending they didn’t want this, deep and dizzying, tongue sliding against Paige’s as her hand skimmed down her chest. Paige was still panting, the aftershocks of what she’d just done vibrating through her muscles, but she didn’t resist as Azzi shifted on top of her, dragging her leg over and straddling her waist.

Paige’s hands found Azzi’s hips, still trembling slightly, and Azzi grinned against her mouth. “You good?” she asked, but the glint in her eyes said she already knew the answer.

“I will be,” Paige rasped, “once you stop teasing.”

Azzi leaned down, her mouth trailing a path along Paige’s jaw, her throat, across the collarbone already marked by a few of Paige’s earlier bites. “Then shut up and let me focus.”

Her hands were everywhere, confident but reverent, like she was still wrapping her head around the fact that she was allowed to touch Paige like this. She cupped her breasts, brushed her thumbs across her nipples, then bent down to take one into her mouth, sucking just hard enough to make Paige gasp. Paige arched into her with a sharp inhale, her fingers digging into Azzi’s back.

Azzi moved slow at first, kissing down the center of her chest, then her stomach, tongue sliding along the ridges of muscle as Paige tensed beneath her. When she reached the waistband of Paige’s shorts, she hooked her fingers there and looked up.

“Can I?”

“Azzi,” Paige groaned, “if you don’t...”

That was all the permission she needed. She pulled them down quickly, underwear with them, then tossed them off the side of the bed. She paused for half a second to just look, at Paige laid out beneath her, lips kiss-swollen, chest rising fast, legs spread open and slick with arousal.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Azzi whispered, more to herself than anything.

Paige opened her mouth to fire back something cocky, probably a joke, probably a tease, but then Azzi’s mouth was on her, and nothing clever came out.

She licked her slowly first, just to watch Paige react, the twitch in her thighs, the way her hand flew up to grip the sheets. Then she flattened her tongue and dragged it through her folds, savoring the taste, before closing her lips around her clit and sucking hard.

Paige cursed loud and bucked her hips, one hand reaching down to grab Azzi’s hair. “Holy fuck”

Azzi smiled against her and kept going, her tongue worked in tight, steady circles, her hand sliding up to press down gently on Paige’s stomach, grounding her. Every now and then she’d back off just to tease, to flick her tongue lightly or drag it maddeningly slow, only to suck again harder when Paige started to whine.

When she felt Paige getting close, her hips rolling, her thighs starting to shake, she slipped a finger inside her. Paige choked on a moan, eyes flying open, head falling back against the pillow.

Azzi curled her finger, then added a second, pumping them in deep, slow thrusts while her mouth never let up. Paige was falling apart under her, cursing, gasping, hand tight in her curls as if she couldn’t stand the thought of Azzi stopping for even a second.

Azzi loved it, loved the sound of Paige breaking for her, the way she’d gone from cocky to wrecked in minutes. “That’s it,” she murmured against her, voice low and thick with arousal. “Come for me, Paige.”

And Paige did, hard. Her whole body tensed, her breath caught in her throat, her hips stuttered. She let out a broken sound, deep and raw, as she fell over the edge. Azzi kept her mouth on her until Paige physically tugged her up, dragging her in for a kiss with the little strength she had left.

They kissed for a long time, still half-naked, chests slick with sweat, legs tangled. Neither of them said anything for a while, not because there was nothing to say, but because whatever they’d just done wasn’t the kind of thing you could explain out loud.

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

The room was quiet, save for the low hum of the fan spinning unevenly in the corner. Outside, campus had gone still, no more late-night stragglers, no more music bleeding through the walls. Just the soft sound of breathing and the occasional creak of the mattress when one of them shifted.

Paige lay on her back, arm curled under her head, eyes fixed on a faint crack in the ceiling she’d never noticed before. Azzi was on her side, the sheet tangled around her legs, her bare shoulder brushing Paige’s lightly. They hadn’t spoken in almost five minutes. The kind of silence that wasn’t just tired, it was loaded. Something was shifting between them. They both felt it.

Azzi cleared her throat, voice still hoarse from earlier. “So… are we gonna talk about it?”

Paige didn’t look at her. “Talk about what?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “You know what.”

A pause. Then Paige exhaled and turned her head just enough to glance at her. “You mean the part where you came on my face and then pretended nothing happened?”

Azzi blinked, caught between a laugh and a glare. “Jesus.”

Paige smirked, just a little, but it faded quickly. “Fine. Yeah. We should talk.”

Azzi sat up, hugging her knees to her chest, hair a mess around her shoulders. Paige pushed herself upright more slowly, the sheet pooling at her hips. They didn’t look at each other at first.

“So what is this?” Azzi asked, voice quieter now.

Paige rubbed a hand over her face. “It was… good sex.”

Azzi shot her a look.

“What?” Paige asked. “It was. Really good. Possibly illegal in some states.”

Azzi snorted, but the laugh didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re deflecting.”

Paige looked at her for a long moment. “Okay. Yeah. I am.”

More silence. Not heavy. Not yet. Just cautious.

Azzi hesitated before saying, “I’m not looking for a relationship.”

Paige’s stomach twisted, not because she didn’t expect it, but because hearing it out loud still stung. She nodded slowly. “Me neither.”

Azzi raised a brow. “You sure?”

“I wouldn’t have pulled you onto my lap if I wasn’t.”

Azzi squinted at her. “That logic makes zero sense.”

Paige shrugged, voice dry. “Welcome to my brain.”

They stared at each other for a beat longer, then Azzi finally leaned back against the headboard. “So… rules?”

“Sure,” Paige said, though her chest already felt tight. “Rules are good. Rules are smart.”

Azzi started counting off on her fingers. “No catching feelings.”

Paige gave her a look. “Obvious, but okay.”

“No sleepovers.”

Paige gestured vaguely at the bed. “Failing spectacularly already.”

Azzi shrugged. “Exceptions can be made for post-orgasm comas.”

“Noted.”

They were both quiet for a moment, then Paige said, “No texting at weird hours.”

Azzi frowned. “Why?”

Paige glanced away. “Because 2 a.m. texts start to feel like something else.”

Azzi chewed on her bottom lip, nodding slowly. “Okay. No late-night texts unless it’s strictly logistical.”

Paige snorted. “What, like ‘meet me in ten, bring ice packs’?”

“Exactly.”

She was trying to make it funny. They both were. But the edges were too sharp, too close to something real. Paige shifted uncomfortably and added, “No telling the team.”

Azzi nodded. “God, no. You know they’d never shut up.”

“KK would start a countdown for how fast we’d catch feelings.”

“And Nika would have a betting pool by breakfast.”

They both smiled at that, a flicker of ease sliding into the space between them. But it didn’t last.

Azzi leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. “What about… seeing other people?”

Paige froze.

Azzi looked at her. “Like… we can. Right?”

Paige forced her jaw to unclench. “Of course. Yeah. This isn’t exclusive.”

Azzi nodded quickly, like she was reassuring herself. “Right. Just sex. That’s it.”

“Exactly.” Paige laid back down again, staring at the ceiling. “Just stress relief. A mutual favor.”

Azzi laughed once. “You’re so bad at pretending you don’t care.”

Paige’s smile was tight. “So are you.”

Another silence. This one stretched.

Azzi laid back down beside her, not quite touching. “It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“It already is,” Paige said quietly.

Neither of them said anything for a long time after that.

Eventually, Azzi rolled to her side and said, voice soft, “You’re still staying, though, right?”

Paige looked over. “Thought we weren’t doing sleepovers.”

Azzi shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “There’s an exception for post-orgasm comas, remember?”

Paige chuckled, but it didn’t quite reach her chest. “Right.”

She reached out under the sheets and found Azzi’s hand. Their fingers laced automatically.

No more words. Just that fragile, unspoken thing growing between them.

They fell asleep like that, not touching, but tethered.

And neither of them dreamed about anyone else.

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

Azzi woke slowly, the way you do when your body wants more sleep but your mind has already decided it’s over. The light coming in through the blinds was soft and diluted, just enough to tint the room in a pale gray that made everything look quieter than it was. She blinked up at the ceiling, adjusting to the stillness, and only when she reached out on instinct did she realize Paige wasn’t there.

Her arm stretched across the mattress, fingers brushing the sheet, but the spot where Paige had been hours ago was already cold.

Azzi didn’t move for a moment. Her hand stayed there, resting against the empty space, and she stared up at the ceiling like maybe if she stayed still long enough, the world would shift backward. Just a little. Just to last night.

The room smelled like her shampoo and Paige’s deodorant. There was a sweatshirt on the floor that didn’t belong to her, one sleeve turned inside out like it had been taken off in a rush. Her nightstand drawer was half-open, she didn’t remember opening it. Her phone was face down. And on the chair by the closet, her clothes were folded neatly, but the edge of Paige’s t-shirt was gone.

No text. No note. Not even a missed call.

Azzi exhaled slowly, more habit than feeling, and rolled onto her back, dragging the sheet up to her chest like it might hold something together. It didn’t. Her body was still sore in places she hadn’t been touched in months, tender reminders of a night she wasn’t supposed to hold onto. But it was hard to forget. Her skin still buzzed with the shape of Paige’s hands, the echo of her mouth, the weight of how it felt to be wanted like that.

She closed her eyes for a second longer, pressing the heel of her hand gently against her sternum. It wasn’t heartbreak. It wasn’t even disappointment. It was just… that slow, empty pull. The reminder that she’d made the rules. That Paige was just following them.

Azzi finally sat up, legs swinging over the edge of the bed. Her bare feet hit the floor with a dull thud. The air was cooler than it had been last night. Her window was cracked open an inch, letting in the distant sound of someone on a skateboard and a few birds that wouldn’t shut up. She pulled her robe off the back of her desk chair, slipped it on, and padded into the kitchen without turning on the lights.

The apartment was still. Caroline and Ice were probably still asleep, their doors shut. Azzi moved on autopilot, kettle, mug, instant coffee, a splash of oat milk. Her hands moved like they were used to distraction, like they’d memorized the steps of pretending everything was normal.

She sat at the small dining table, one leg pulled up under her robe, cradling her mug with both hands. The first sip burned her tongue slightly. She didn’t care.

Her phone lit up on the counter, not a message from Paige. Just Caroline: “Brunch? I’m starving and bored.”

Azzi stared at the screen for a second, then typed back: “Sure. Let me shower.”

No mention of last night. No questions. No confessions.

She locked her phone, sipped her coffee, and kept her face blank as the mug warmed her fingers.

Just sex, she reminded herself.

She didn’t believe it either.

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

The brunch spot was barely a five-minute walk off campus, one of those places that always smelled like cinnamon and espresso no matter what time of day it was. The windows were fogged slightly from the heat of the kitchen, and the patio seating was already half full of students in sweats and sunglasses nursing iced lattes like hangover remedies. Azzi spotted Caroline immediately, tucked in the far corner under an umbrella, one foot propped on the empty chair across from her, sunglasses perched in her hair and a nearly empty mimosa in her hand.

Azzi approached quietly, adjusting the strap of her crossbody bag across her chest. She’d tied her curls up into a high bun after her shower, loose strands escaping around her face. Oversized hoodie. Leggings. Big black sunglasses she hadn’t bothered to take off even though the sun wasn’t that bright.

Caroline looked up as she approached and dropped her foot from the chair with a grin. “There she is. I was about to order for you and pretend we were dating.”

Azzi huffed a soft laugh, sliding into the seat. “As if they’d believe you could land me.”

“Ouch,” Caroline said, clutching her chest. “See if I order you the good pancakes now.”

Azzi let herself smile, small, easy, and picked up the menu, even though she already knew what she wanted. Something about pretending to think helped slow the morning down.

“You look like shit,” Caroline added after a beat, not unkindly. “Rough night?”

Azzi’s eyes stayed on the menu. “Didn’t sleep much.”

Caroline hummed, stirring the last inch of her mimosa with the straw. “Doing what?”

Azzi looked up briefly, then back down. “Just… thinking. Trying to reset.”

“Sure,” Caroline said, tone casual but eyes sharp. “You know you ghosted me last night, right? Whole team was in the group chat. You just vanished.”

“I wasn’t feeling it.” Azzi folded the menu closed and placed it on the edge of the table. “Needed a quiet night.”

“You always need a quiet night,” Caroline said, but it wasn’t an accusation, just an observation. She leaned forward, rested her chin on her hand. “You weren’t alone, though.”

Azzi didn’t flinch, but she didn’t meet her eyes either.

Caroline watched her for another second, then leaned back as the server arrived to take their order. Azzi asked for a green smoothie and banana pancakes. Caroline ordered eggs and hashbrowns, another mimosa. The server smiled and left. The silence returned.

“I’m not trying to pry,” Caroline said finally. “Just… checking in.”

Azzi nodded once. “I appreciate that.”

“But also,” Caroline added, tapping her fingers lightly against her glass, “if you’re going to sneak around and act mysterious, at least let me pretend to be supportive.”

Azzi laughed under her breath, and this time, it sounded real. “There’s nothing to support. It’s not a thing.”

Caroline tilted her head. “Uh-huh.”

“I mean it.” Azzi picked up her water, took a sip. “It was just… whatever. Not a big deal.”

“You’re talking like I asked for a ring size.”

Azzi gave her a look.

Caroline held up her hands. “Okay. Not a big deal. Totally normal to disappear for a night and show up looking like you wrestled a fever dream.”

Azzi smirked. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re deflecting.”

Their food arrived, giving Azzi a moment of reprieve. She busied herself with syrup, focusing a little too hard on pouring it evenly. Caroline didn’t push further, but the silence between them stretched in that familiar way, not uncomfortable, just heavy with what neither of them was saying.

Azzi stabbed a piece of pancake, chewed slowly, then asked, “What’s the group chat say this morning?”

Caroline shrugged. “Mostly nonsense. Nika wants to go out tonight. KK’s being KK. Someone made a joke about Mia again, which I still don’t understand.”

Azzi’s fork froze halfway to her mouth.

Caroline clocked it.

But Azzi just said, “Mia’s a freshman. Paige tutors her sometimes.”

“Interesting.”

“Not really,” Azzi muttered, setting her fork down. “She’s just loud.”

Caroline didn’t say anything else. She just picked at her eggs, let Azzi sit in her own quiet.

They finished the meal without circling back. But when the check came, Caroline paid for both of them without comment, and Azzi didn’t argue. As they stood to leave, Caroline bumped her shoulder lightly and said, “Just don’t shut me out, okay?”

Azzi adjusted her sunglasses and gave her a small nod. “I won’t.”

She already had.

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

The gym was half-lit and echoing when Paige pushed through the back doors, a worn-out hoodie tugged over her tank top, earbuds already in. The playlist was old, one of her summer grind mixes — all bass-heavy and wordless enough to drown things out. She liked the gym this way, still waking up, not yet buzzing with team chatter or Coach’s whistle. It gave her space to move without thinking. Just repetition and sweat.

She dropped her bag, tied her shoes tight, and picked up a ball without stretching. The first few jumpers were lazy, loose-wristed, just enough arc to feel it again. The fourth clanged off the rim and bounced hard. She chased it down, jaw already tight. Fifth went in. Sixth rattled, but fell. Seventh, smooth.

It was muscle memory. The one thing she could trust to not get complicated.

She didn’t hear the door open, didn’t notice Nika until she was standing at half court, spinning a ball on one finger like she’d been there all morning.

“You work out in silence now?” Nika called out.

Paige popped her earbuds out. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“You’re not that hard to find. Also, you missed breakfast.”

Paige caught the ball off a bounce and wiped her wrist across her forehead. “Didn’t feel like a crowd.”

Nika cocked her head. “You always feel like a crowd.”

Paige smirked. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Doesn’t have to. You get my point.”

They moved into a rhythm without really talking about it, Nika rebounding, Paige shooting, the kind of flow that came from years of knowing each other’s timing. But even with the ease of it, Nika was watching her. Paige could feel it. The too-long silences. The way Nika let her miss four shots in a row without a comment. That wasn’t normal.

After the next make, Paige said, “You’re being weird.”

“I’m being observant.”

“Same thing.”

Nika tossed her the ball, then crossed her arms. “You’ve been quiet lately. Like, Paige quiet. Which is worse than regular quiet because it means you’re either overthinking or actively self-destructing.”

Paige let the ball bounce once before catching it again. “I’m fine.”

Nika gave her a flat look. “You disappeared last night. Didn’t answer the group chat. And now you’re here at nine in the morning like it’s therapy hour.”

“I just needed to shoot.”

“Uh-huh.”

Paige took another jumper. Swish.

Nika walked closer, dropped the ball she was holding. “Look. I’m not asking for a diary entry, but you know you can tell me shit, right?”

Paige exhaled slowly. “I know.”

“Then tell me why you’re acting like you got hit by an emotional semi-truck.”

“I’m not.”

“You only dodge like this when there’s a girl involved.”

Paige hesitated just for a second, and that was all Nika needed.

“Oh my god,” she said, eyes lighting up. “Who is she?”

“There’s no girl.”

“Lie better.”

“There’s no relationship.” Paige corrected, catching her own slip too late.

Nika’s eyebrows went up. “So there is a girl. And something happened.”

Paige shook her head, turned back toward the hoop. “It’s not a big deal.”

Nika folded her arms. “You know, I was gonna invite you to Ted’s tonight. Whole crew’s going.”

Paige hesitated again, then said, “I don’t know if I’m up for...”

“That’s exactly why you’re coming.”

Paige shot again. Missed.

Nika grinned like she’d just won a bet.

They didn’t say anything for a while. Just the rhythm of ball on hardwood, sneakers squeaking, the low hum of music still leaking from Paige’s phone speaker in her pocket. But then Nika pulled her own phone out and tapped into the group chat with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

“Just to let the people know,” she said.

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

Group Chat – “UConn Fam”

9:04 AM

Nika:

Ted’s tonight. 9PM. I expect chaos. No excuses.

—

1:57 PM

Aaliyah:

I'm in. who’s trying to black out responsibly

Aubrey: 

Im 100% in

Ines:

Only if someone keeps KK away from the DJ booth this time

Ice:

Can’t promise anything

KK:

Is Paige even alive??? girl’s been dodging us like we’re taxes

Aaliyah:

Fr she’s been in stealth mode all week

KK:

She was probably with Mia again 👀👀

Caroline:

Who the hell is Mia???

Nika:

Freshman Paige tutors. loud. confident. definitely crushing.

KK:

Tutoring. suuure 😏

Ice:

Here we go again 💀

Paige is typing…

Paige is typing…

Paige is typing…

Nothing sent.

POV: Paige

She’d been lying on her bed, hair still damp from her post-gym shower, phone face up on her chest. She hadn’t opened the group chat when the first message came through that morning, just saw Nika’s Ted’s invite flash across her lock screen and ignored it. But this? She read through the thread three times.

Mia. Of course they brought her up.

Her thumbs hovered above the keyboard. She could’ve joked it off. Said something dumb. Given them the reaction they wanted.

But the idea of Azzi seeing her name tied to someone else made her stomach twist, not because of guilt. Because she didn’t want Azzi thinking it meant anything. Because it didn’t. Not even close.

She typed, “you’re all sick”, then deleted it. Locked the screen.

Let them think what they wanted.

POV: Azzi

Azzi had just gotten back from brunch and dumped her bag on the floor, hair still in a half-undone bun, hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows. She wasn’t even hungry, but she’d eaten anyway. Smiled at the right times. Lied when it counted.

She hadn’t opened the group chat until the notifications stacked. Her eyes skimmed the thread. Then froze.

Paige was probably with Mia again 👀👀

The name hit harder than it should have. Azzi stared at it, thumb trembling just slightly over the screen. The kind of joke that wasn't really a joke. The kind of thing that clung.

Her jaw tensed. She exited the app. Turned her phone face-down on the windowsill.

She wouldn’t ask. She wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t let herself care.

But her chest still felt hollow.

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

POV: Azzi

Azzi adjusted her crop top in the mirror for the third time, smoothing her palms over her ribs as if the fabric would magically shift into something more comfortable. It was tight, on purpose. The kind of top she usually reserved for nights she needed to feel in control of something. Paired with high-waisted jean shorts and the same black sneakers she always wore when she wanted to look casual but still hot, it was… a choice.

“You sure you don’t want to bring a hoodie?” Caroline called from the kitchen.

Azzi looked down at herself. “No.”

Caroline popped her head into the room and let out a low whistle. “Okay, damn. You’re showing up tonight.”

Azzi turned slightly, checking her profile in the mirror. “Too much?”

“For a regular night? Maybe. For seeing your almost-hookup-you’re-trying-not-to-have-feelings-for? Perfect.”

Azzi gave her a look. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Caroline said sweetly, already walking away.

Azzi sprayed perfume lightly over her neck and wrists, then pulled her curls over one shoulder. Her lip gloss was subtle. Her earrings matched the thin chain around her throat. She looked effortless.

She didn’t feel it.

Ice was already by the door in camo pants and a tiny halter top. “We going or what?”

Azzi grabbed her phone, glanced at the lock screen. Nothing.

She wasn’t expecting anything. That’s what they’d agreed.

Still, she lingered for a beat before answering. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

POV: Paige

The mirror above her desk was streaked at the edges, but Paige leaned in close anyway, swiping on a quick coat of mascara with practiced ease. It was the only thing she ever wore, just enough to make her eyes stand out without looking like she cared. Her hair was freshly straightened, parted down the middle and tucked behind her ears, still warm from the flat iron.

She pulled her oversized white tee over her head, the cotton soft and slouchy against her skin. The neckline hung a little loose, just wide enough to show the strap of her sports bra and a peek of her collarbone. She adjusted it without thinking, then grabbed her black cargo pants from the back of her desk chair and stepped into them, cinching the waist tight. They sat low on her hips and hung just right, baggy, but not shapeless. She checked herself in the mirror. Oversized shirt, cargos, fresh sneakers, silver cross chain glinting at her collarbone.

Casual. Comfortable. Still hot.

“You look like the kind of girl that ruins lives,” Nika said from the doorway, one brow raised.

Paige smirked. “That’s the goal.”

KK piped up from where she was sprawled on the futon, holding her phone over her head. “Mia’s gonna combust if she sees you in that.”

Paige rolled her eyes, grabbing her phone from the windowsill. “She’s not going.”

“You sure?” KK grinned. “Girl looked ready to fake an ID just to find you.”

“I’m not going for Mia,” Paige said, shoving her phone into her pocket.

“Didn’t say you were,” KK sing-songed. “But she’s definitely going for you.”

Nika gave Paige a look, but kept her mouth shut. Just handed her the hoodie Paige had left crumpled on the chair. “Take this. In case you want to hide your shame.”

“I don’t have any shame,” Paige said, pulling it on but leaving it unzipped.

KK cackled. “Lies. But she looks fine as hell.”

Paige didn’t respond. Just grabbed her keys and nodded toward the door. “Let’s go.”

But as they left the dorm, she tugged the hem of her shirt down once more, fingertips brushing her hips like she was already thinking about who might be looking.

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

POV Azzi

Ted’s was packed, low ceilings, sweaty walls, and music that hit harder than it had any right to on a Thursday. The bass rattled through her ribs, all synth and bassline and bodies packed too close together. Azzi stuck near the front with Caroline and Ice at first, drink in hand, eyes scanning through the blur of familiar heads and half-lit faces.

Then she saw her.

Paige.

Standing across the room near the back wall, just a little outside the crowd, lit by the dull red glow of the overhead lights. Oversized white tee, black cargos, silver chain catching the flicker from the DJ booth. Straight hair tucked behind her ears, her posture loose like she didn’t care, but Azzi knew that look. It was curated. Paige looked relaxed, cool, unfazed.

She looked hot.

Azzi took a slow sip of her drink, already half warm in her hand. She wasn’t going to stare. She wasn’t.

Paige turned at the same moment, eyes locking with hers like it was choreographed. Azzi didn’t look away. Neither did Paige. The corner of Paige’s mouth lifted, not a full smirk. Just enough to say yeah, I see you too.

Azzi’s stomach dipped.

Then someone stepped into Paige’s space. A girl. Shorter, brunette, loud in the way freshmen always were. She leaned in close, too close, her hand brushing Paige’s arm in a way that made Azzi blink.

Mia.

Of course it was Mia.

She said something that made Paige laugh, head ducking slightly. Azzi’s jaw clenched. She didn’t wait for more. Just turned, walking straight toward the bar without a word.

POV Paige

She felt Azzi’s eyes before she saw her.

Across the room, tight black crop top, denim shorts, thighs out, curls framing her face like it was personal. Her skin glowed under the lights, bronze and smooth and soft in a way Paige remembered way too well. She couldn’t stop looking. Wouldn’t. Azzi looked unreal. And Paige knew she was doing it on purpose.

Paige’s fingers curled into her pocket, trying to keep cool.

Then Mia appeared out of nowhere, all perfume and confidence, brushing against Paige’s arm like it was nothing.

“Didn’t expect to see you out tonight,” she said, already half shouting over the music.

Paige kept her tone casual. “Didn’t expect to be here.”

“You look good,” Mia said, eyes flicking down. “Dangerous. In a fun way.”

Paige forced a laugh, but it didn’t land. Her eyes drifted back across the room, only Azzi was gone. A flash of dark curls weaving through the crowd, headed toward the bar.

Something tugged in her chest. Harder than she wanted it to.

“Hey, you want a drink?” Mia asked, still touching her.

Paige stepped back a half-step. “I’m good. I gotta...yeah. One sec.”

She didn’t wait. Just moved, slow but direct, slipping through the crowd until she found Azzi leaning against the bar, waiting for the bartender, arms crossed under her chest like she was trying not to look annoyed.

“You ran off,” Paige said, sliding in beside her.

Azzi didn’t look at her right away. “Didn’t realize I owed you a debrief.”

Paige smirked. “You looked good tonight.”

Azzi finally turned to face her. “You looked busy.”

“That wasn’t” Paige sighed. “I didn’t ask her to come up to me.”

“Didn’t stop her from touching you.”

Paige leaned in a little closer. Her voice dropped low, just for her. “I didn’t want her.”

Azzi’s brow arched. “And who do you want?”

Paige’s mouth hovered near her ear, breath warm. “When can I fuck you again?”

Azzi didn’t flinch. Just tilted her head slightly, lips brushing a smile against the rim of her glass. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“How tonight goes.”

Paige chuckled, low and quiet. “So I need to be on my best behavior?”

Azzi turned to face her fully now, her voice sweet but loaded. “No, Paige. You need to be interesting.”

The bartender arrived. Azzi ordered another vodka soda. Didn’t ask if Paige wanted one.

Then she turned and walked back into the crowd, leaving Paige standing there, smirking to herself, aroused and entirely off-balance.

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

POV Paige

She watched Azzi disappear into the crowd, glass in hand, hips moving like she didn’t know she was being watched, or worse, like she did.

Paige stayed at the bar for another minute, pretending to care about nothing. Then she turned, rejoined Nika and KK near the edge of the dance floor, trying to act like her pulse wasn’t jackhammering in her throat.

The lights were low and hazy now, flickering between violet and red as the DJ dropped into something grimy and bass-heavy. Around her, everyone was moving. Laughing. Drunk.

Paige wasn’t.

She let KK shove a cup into her hand, took a sip without tasting it, eyes scanning through the blur of bodies. She found her fast.

Azzi was near the center of the floor now, surrounded by people but not with any of them, just dancing, head tipped back, curls sticking slightly to her neck. Her crop top rode high as her hands moved up, hair bouncing with the beat, the curve of her waist catching every flash of light like a fucking magnet.

Paige didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing until Nika nudged her. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, eyes still locked.

Nika grinned like she already knew. “You’re about to do something stupid, huh?”

“Very.”

And then she moved.

It wasn’t a rush. Just a slow weave through the crowd, casual, discreet, like the music pulled her in. She let herself get swallowed by the pulse of it, drifting close, close, until Azzi’s back was just inches away.

She didn’t speak. Didn’t give a warning.

She just slid a hand low on Azzi’s hip and pulled her gently back into her front.

Azzi didn’t flinch. Didn’t turn.

She leaned into it.

Pressed her ass into Paige’s pelvis with a slow grind that matched the beat, one hand lifting to rest lightly behind Paige’s neck, the other snaking back to guide Paige’s grip lower.

Paige’s mouth parted slightly, breath catching. She moved with her, bodies aligned, letting herself get lost in it. Her hand flattened against Azzi’s stomach, anchoring them together as they moved.

It was heat. Friction. Payback.

No one around them noticed or if they did, no one would remember. Not in this crowd. Not in this chaos.

Azzi tilted her head back, mouth grazing the curve of Paige’s jaw.

Then, her lips at Paige’s ear, low and breathless:

“Let’s get out of here.”

Paige didn’t answer.

She just grabbed Azzi’s hand and led her through the crowd, fast, deliberate, like she already knew how the night was going to end.

[mahalachives]

Part 6: The Cost of Rejection

TW: This chapter contains scenes of intense emotional distress, self-inflicted harm, bond-related psychological torment, violence, graphic depictions of injury, and themes of mental instability and feral behavior tied to a magical mating bond. It also includes a choking/strangulation scene.

As always, please read with care. Your well-being always comes first. 💛

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Genre: angst, romcom, humor, fish out of water reader, canon (ish)

Summary: Murdered after a late-night study session in the modern world, you awaken in Prythian—still yourself, but with Fae features and the infamous title of Beron’s cold-hearted and ruthless daughter.

Then, fate snaps the mating bond into place between you and the shadowsinger, Azriel—who rejects it so fiercely, even the magic recoils.

You died a healer. You woke up a villain. Now fate’s mated you to who wants nothing to do with either—you’ll prove them all wrong, one heartbeat at a time.

Between Two Fires - Masterlist

The mating bond had turned Night Court's most controlled warrior into something ancient and feral.

A predator unleashed in a world that had forgotten what true darkness could do.

The Autumn Court palace gleamed copper and crimson in the late afternoon light as Rhysand, Feyre, and Cassian approached the main gates. High Lord and Lady of the Night Court demanding entry while their general flanked them, power barely contained.

Behind them, darkness moved where it shouldn't; Azriel slipping through cracks in Autumn's defenses, less male than living shadow.

His eyes burned with feverish intensity, pupils blown wide and ringed with gold.

Days without sleep. Days of the bond flaying him alive from within.

Blood seeped through his leathers, fresh cuts reopening with each movement.

He'd carved them himself, desperate attempts to distract from the internal agony with external pain.

It hadn't worked.

The bond pulled at him with vicious intensity, a barbed hook beneath his sternum dragging him forward through servant passages and hidden corridors.

Every few steps, his body convulsed with silent spasms that he forced himself to work through, shadows writhing against his skin like living tattoos.

His mind fractured and reformed with each pulse of the bond, memories and present bleeding together.

"You're not the same female I knew."

"But you have caused too much pain."

"I reject you. I dont want anything to do with you."

Azriel slammed his fist into a wall, the crack of bone against stone grounding him momentarily. Blood smeared the ornate wallpaper. The pain rippled up his arm, insignificant compared to the wildfire in his chest.

The family wing appeared before him, the bond pulling him with increasing urgency.

A guard stood at the entrance. Living, breathing, in his way. Azriel didn't slow. His shadows struck first, wrapping around the male's throat before the guard could shout. Azriel followed, Truth-Teller already drawn.

The guard's eyes widened in terror at whatever he saw in Azriel's face. The shadowsinger barely noticed the fear, barely registered driving his forearm into the guard's throat, pinning him against the wall with inhuman strength.

"Where is she?" he asked, voice deathly quiet. The softness of it more terrifying than any shout.

The guard choked, fingers scrabbling uselessly against Azriel's arm. Azriel eased the pressure (just enough to allow speech).

"The Lady's chambers... e-empty," the guard gasped. "She's gone, disappeared days..."

Azriel's vision tunneled to a single point. Gone.

His control, five centuries of discipline, nearly vanished like mist. Truth-Teller hovered a breath away from the guard's chest.

Only a thin thread of restraint—the knowledge that Rhysand needed stealth, needed time—kept him from plunging the blade forward.

Instead, his shadows thickened, wrapping around the guard's consciousness until his eyes rolled back. The male slumped to the floor, still breathing but deeply unconscious.

Azriel stepped over the body without looking back, already following the golden thread pulling him forward.

The door to your chamber materialized before him, carved with flame patterns. The bond thrummed with savage intensity, golden light visible beneath Azriel's skin where his leathers had torn.

Empty.

The silence hit him like a physical blow.

Your scent lingered, but nothing else. Nothing alive. Nothing yours. The bond screamed within him, an animal caught in a trap.

Azriel stumbled forward, legs no longer working properly. His shadows exploded outward in blind rage, shredding curtains, shattering furniture, blackening walls with their fury. The mirror cracked with a sound like splitting ice, fragments raining down.

He crashed to his knees, a feral sound tearing from his throat; not grief, but madness. His hands clawed at his chest, tearing through leather to the golden light pulsing beneath his skin. Blood welled between his fingers.

"Where?" The word barely audible, not a question but a command.

His shadows raced through the room, crawling into corners, seeking, hunting. They returned with fragments. Impressions of fear, of flight, of ash and poison. The crystalline residue of a shattered vial.

The distant scent of Eris.

Something snapped inside him, an essential tether to reason and restraint. The golden light beneath his skin flared brighter, pulsing in time with his erratic heartbeat.

The room darkened as shadows poured from him in torrents, smothering candles, coating the walls in writhing darkness.

Behind him, the door creaked. Azriel spun, Truth-Teller raised before conscious thought.

A servant. Young. Terrified. Linens clutched to her chest.

He was on her in an instant, blade at her throat, shadows wrapping around her limbs like serpents. Her fear registered dimly, meaningless compared to the inferno raging through his chest.

"Where?" The single word delivered with such cold precision that it seemed to drop the temperature of the room.

His face remained expressionless, which somehow made the madness in his eyes more terrifying.

She trembled, tears streaming down her face. "I d-don't... High Lord Beron said..."

The mention of Beron's name cracked something further inside him. His shadows constricted around the maid involuntarily, drawing a whimper of pain.

"Who took her?" His voice remained low, controlled, at odds with the chaos of his shadows.

"No one t-took her," the maid sobbed. "She fled. To the south... the b-border..."

The bond convulsed inside him, a spasm so violent it bent him double. The blade faltered, dropping from his hand as he released the maid. She scrambled away, forgotten as Azriel collapsed to all fours, golden light seeping from between his lips like blood.

South. Border. Fled.

His mind caught on the words, turning them over and over.

Fled. From him. From the court. From the bond.

A sound escaped him, a laugh or sob, impossible to tell. His shadows surged around him in chaotic patterns, reflecting the fracturing of his mind.

In that dark corner of his consciousness, Rhysand's voice cut through. Az. Status.

Azriel couldn't form words anymore, could only send back impressions. Empty. Gone.

Come to the Great Hall. Now. Rhysand's mental voice held the edge of command, the High Lord calling his shadowsinger to heel.

Azriel rose unsteadily, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. The bond tugged southward, a hook in his chest that made each step away from it agony.

The Great Hall of the Autumn Court blazed with light and tension. Beron sat upon his flame-wreathed throne, fire dancing along his fingertips.

Eris stood beside him, carefully neutral as he watched the Night Court delegation.

"Your presence is unwelcome, Rhysand," Beron was saying. "State your business and then remove yourselves from my court."

Rhysand lounged with practiced arrogance. "We come on a matter of mutual concern. One that affects the stability of both our courts."

Feyre sat beside him, power simmering beneath her calm exterior. Cassian remained standing, hand on his sword hilt, his eyes constantly scanning the room.

"Nothing concerns our courts mutually," Beron snapped, flames leaping higher. "Unless you've come to finally acknowledge your shadowsinger's inappropriate fixation on my daughter."

"A mating bond is the Cauldron's will," Feyre replied, voice like silk over steel. "Not a matter of propriety."

"The Made High Lady speaks of traditions she barely understands," Beron sneered. "The bond was rejected. The matter is closed."

"And yet," Rhysand said, "your daughter has vanished. Curious timing."

The hall plunged into sudden, smothering darkness as the shadows thickened unnaturally.

Torches extinguished, flames dying with soft hisses. Guards shouted in alarm.

Azriel materialized from the darkness, but not as they knew him.

His wings hung at wrong angles. Blood painted abstract patterns across his fighting leathers. His face was a death mask; skin stretched too tight across cheekbones, eyes sunken and feverish. Golden light pulsed beneath his skin in erratic patterns, visible through tears in his clothing, shining from within his mouth when he spoke.

"Where is she?" The question came as a whisper that somehow carried through the entire hall. Low, controlled, and all the more terrifying for its restraint.

His shadows weren't just around him anymore; they were him, extensions of limbs and wings, curling in patterns that hurt the eye to follow.

Beron rose from his throne, flames surging defensively. "What madness is this?" he demanded, though his voice wavered slightly. "How dare you bring this... abomination into my court?"

Eris stepped forward, eyes narrowed as he assessed Azriel. "The mating bond has taken him," he observed quietly. "He's gone feral."

Rhysand moved swiftly to Azriel's side, power unfurling. "Az," he said firmly. "Control it."

Azriel didn't look at him. His gaze remained fixed on Beron, on Eris. On the ones who might know. His hands trembled violently, Truth-Teller clutched so tightly the hilt was cutting into his palm.

"She is no longer in the Autumn Court," Eris said carefully. "Her whereabouts are not our concern."

"Lies." The word fell into the room like a dropped stone, simple and cold. Shadows exploded from Azriel in a shockwave that knocked guards from their feet and cracked pillars. Furniture splintered. A chandelier crashed to the floor in a spray of crystal and flame.

Cassian lunged forward, grabbing Azriel's arm. "Az, stand down!"

Azriel turned on him with terrifying speed, Truth-Teller raised. Cassian caught his wrist, red siphons flaring to contain the shadows.

"Look at me," Cassian commanded. "Look at me, brother."

For a heartbeat, recognition flickered in Azriel's fever-bright eyes. Then the bond spasmed again, and he doubled over, body shaking violently as if something was tearing him apart from within.

"ENOUGH!" Beron shouted, flames racing across the floor toward the Night Court delegation. "This is an act of war, Rhysand! Your dog has gone rabid!"

"He is not himself," Rhysand replied, power rising to counter the flames. "The mating bond-"

"Is his own doing," Beron snarled. "He rejected it. Let him suffer the consequences."

The words hit Azriel like physical blows.

His rejection. His choice. His fault.

With a sound like tearing metal, Azriel broke free from Cassian's hold. His shadows became solid, driving Cassian back as Azriel lunged toward the throne.

"Where. Is. She." The declaration was so softly spoken it was almost tender, which made it infinitely more disturbing. Truth-Teller aimed at Beron's throat, the blade steady despite the tremors wracking the rest of his body.

Guards surged forward. Feyre's power erupted in a shield of starlight. Rhysand moved with blinding speed, catching Azriel around the waist as chaos erupted.

"She fled," Eris said, voice cutting through the mayhem. "She chose to leave. She rejected you as surely as you rejected her."

The words landed like hammer blows on shattered glass. Azriel's knees buckled, shadows coiling around him in protective spirals. The golden light beneath his skin flared bright enough to cast harsh shadows across his face, revealing tears of blood tracking down his cheeks.

"She is gone," Beron said, cruel satisfaction in his voice. "And you drove her away, shadowsinger. Your madness. Your rejection. This is the Cauldron's punishment."

Azriel's body shook so violently that Rhysand had to tighten his grip to keep him upright. No sound escaped the shadowsinger's lips, but his shadows surged outward in silent agony, engulfing the hall in darkness. Guards stumbled back, some falling to their knees as the shadows touched them.

Rhysand's power surged in response, stars piercing the unnatural night. "Azriel!" His voice carried the full weight of High Lord command. "ENOUGH."

The command froze Azriel momentarily, just long enough for Rhysand's power to wrap around him like a cocoon. Feyre and Cassian moved to Rhysand's side, adding their strength to his.

"We're leaving," Rhysand announced to Beron, the words clipped and final. "This audience is concluded."

"Take your rabid dog and go," Beron spat, flames illuminating his fury. "And know that any return to my lands will be met with lethal force."

Eris remained unnervingly calm, his eyes never leaving Azriel. "The bond will kill him," he observed clinically. "Unless he finds her."

"This isn't over." Azriel's words were barely audible, yet they carried the weight of an unbreakable vow. Truth-Teller still gripped in shaking hands as Rhysand's power contained him.

"It was over the moment you rejected what was yours," Eris replied. "Some prices cannot be undone, shadowsinger."

Rhysand's winnowing magic swept around them, tearing them from the Autumn Court in a rush of wind and darkness. The last image was Beron's face, contorted with triumph and rage, and Eris, watching with those calculating amber eyes that knew more than he revealed.

They materialized at the border of Night and Autumn territories, twilight sky bleeding purple and indigo above them.

The moment Rhysand's power released him, Azriel crumpled to the ground as if his bones had turned to water.

His wings splayed at unnatural angles, one arching too high, its joint visibly swollen and throbbing, the other dragging in the dirt, twitching involuntarily with each pulse of the bond.

Blood trickled from beneath his leathers, following the path of scars both ancient and fresh.

His eyes were bloodshot, the whites laced with crimson threads. Veins beneath his skin glowed faintly gold, pulsing like fever-lines up his throat and across his temples.

His breathing came in short, stuttering gasps, like each inhale was being stolen from him.

Like the air itself was rejecting him.

No sound escaped his lips as he curled in on himself, fingers digging into the earth, leaving furrows in the soil. The carefully constructed walls—five centuries of discipline and control—dissolved into dust.

Feyre was beside him in an instant, gathering his shaking form against her.

Her arms encircled him, not as High Lady to shadowsinger, but as family to family. His shadows clung to her like frightened children, but she didn't flinch. Darkness met darkness, and still she held him.

"She left," he whispered, the words barely audible. "She left. She left me. She left me."

His voice broke on the last words, tears cutting clean tracks through the blood and grime on his face. His body convulsed with silent sobs, each one threatening to tear him apart from within.

"I should've... I should've stopped her," he gasped, the words emerging between desperate attempts to breathe. Each inhale seemed to cause him physical pain, the bond constricting his lungs from inside. "I felt it... I felt her slipping..."

His hand reached out, grasping at empty air, then flinched as if burned when his fingers found nothing but wind.

Cassian stood motionless, face drained of color.

He had seen Azriel gut a man without blinking. Had watched him interrogate enemies with mechanical precision. But this? This was something else. Something unholy. The most controlled male he knew, unraveling thread by bloody thread before his eyes.

"Mother above," he breathed, the words a prayer.

Rhysand's power curled protectively around them all, but even he couldn't hide the fear in his eyes. Five hundred years of brotherhood, and he had never seen Azriel like this; had never thought it possible.

"She didn't just leave me," Azriel whispered, his gaze fixed on something none of them could see. "She left the bond. She left everything. How could she... how could she breathe through that?"

Feyre's power curled around him, not to heal, but to hold the pieces together until he could. "I'm here," she murmured, a steady anchor in the storm. "I've got you, Az."

He tried to rise, body moving before his mind caught up. The bond pulled him like a marionette with strings made of agony, dragging him toward the southern horizon. He staggered, would have fallen if not for Feyre's steady arms.

Cassian watched as Azriel's shadows twisted in patterns that reflected his internal torment. "What do we do? We can't force her to accept him."

"No," Rhysand agreed. "But we can find her. At least give him the chance to see her again."

Azriel's body continued to shake, but the wild desperation in his eyes shifted to something else—something cold and focused and deadly.

"South," he managed, each word precise despite the cost. "Border estate."

"We'll find her," Feyre promised, her power wrapping more firmly around his trembling form. "But first, you need to breathe. Just breathe, Az."

Azriel shook his head, the movement jerky and pained. "Can't breathe," he rasped. "It won't let me. Pulls and pulls and..." His words dissolved as another spasm of pain contorted his features.

With sudden, desperate strength, he gripped Rhysand's forearm.

"Please," he begged, the word raw and broken. "Now. Take me to her now." Tears leaked from his eyes, "I'll die if..." He couldn't finish, another wave of pain stealing his breath.

Rhysand knelt beside them, his face set with the cold, implacable resolve of a High Lord. "You'll die if we don't get you to a healer first," he said, voice brooking no argument. "And I will not lose you, brother."

"She's-" Azriel tried again, shadows thinning to wisps as his strength failed him.

"The moment you're stable," Rhysand promised, "we fly south. I swear it on the Cauldron."

Cassian joined them, completing the circle around their fallen brother. "All of us," he agreed, voice rough with emotion he rarely showed. "No one gets left behind."

Azriel's face contorted with a war of emotions—desperation to find you, the physical agony of the bond, the fear that delay meant losing you forever. His entire body trembled with the effort to resist the pull southward.

"She won't want me," he whispered, a confession torn from his soul. "She ran. She ran from me."

"Then we'll face that together too," Feyre said gently, wiping a tear from his cheek. "But we can't lose you, Az."

Something in her words seemed to reach him. His shoulders slumped, not in defeat but in exhaustion, in the bone-deep understanding that he couldn't fight this battle alone.

"Velaris," Rhysand said, gathering his power around them all. "Hold onto him."

As the darkness of winnowing enveloped them, Azriel's shadows stretched southward in one last, desperate reach—toward you, toward what was lost, toward what might never be reclaimed.

His eyes, more gold than hazel now, closed as the bond pulsed beneath his skin in weakening waves. The last thing he whispered before consciousness fled him was your name, a prayer, a promise, a plea.

Then the night swallowed them whole, carrying them home to Velaris.

As the last light faded from the sky, Azriel's shadows stretched southward, seeking, hunting, following the golden thread that bound him to you, whether that path led to salvation or destruction remained to be seen.

A week at Lucien's border estate had taught you several important things.

First, the ash tea worked wonders for muting the bond's pain, but did absolutely nothing for boredom.

Second, Lucien's definition of "stocked kitchen" meant an alarming quantity of expensive wine and virtually nothing edible.

Third, fire bunnies should never, under any circumstances, be allowed near curtains, pillows, or anything remotely flammable (which, unfortunately, was everything).

"I'm making breakfast," you announced, padding barefoot into the sunlit kitchen where Lucien sat nursing a mug of something steaming.

You tripped slightly over a rug edge but caught yourself with as much dignity as you could muster. "Real breakfast. Not whatever sad excuse for food you've been surviving on."

Lucien glanced up from the letter he was reading, metal eye whirring softly as it focused on you. The mechanical click-whir always reminded you of a tiny camera shutter. "There's bread."

"Bread is not breakfast," you replied, already rummaging through his sparse cupboards, accidentally knocking over several empty containers in the process. "It's an ingredient in breakfast. Like... a supporting character. Important, but not the star."

Ember and Sizzle hopped excitedly at your feet, their tiny flame ears perked with anticipation. You'd quickly discovered they had excellent food radar.

For creatures made of fire, they had remarkable enthusiasm for eating. Also for causing chaos, but mostly eating.

"Do you actually know how to cook?" Lucien asked, one eyebrow arched skeptically.

You paused, a dusty jar of what might have been preserves (or possibly very old paint) in your hand.

The truth was complicated.

In your previous life as a human, you'd been decent enough in the kitchen. But your body's current owner, had probably never even seen an uncooked egg.

"How hard can it be?" you replied breezily, blowing a strand of hair from your face. "Heat plus food equals meal. I'm basically just doing math with fire."

Lucien's lips twitched. "Says the female who set three towels on fire yesterday."

"That was Sizzle's fault," you protested, as the bunny in question hopped onto the counter and began sniffing at a bowl of fruit with suspicious intensity. "And I put them out very quickly."

"With wine."

"It worked, didn't it?" You fumbled with a spoon, sending it clattering across the counter. "And the towels weren't that important. They clashed with your decor anyway."

Lucien set his letter aside, leaning back in his chair to watch the impending disaster with barely concealed amusement. "By all means, continue. I haven't had entertainment this good in decades."

You huffed dramatically, pulling out the few ingredients you could find—eggs, some questionable-looking herbs that might actually be weeds, cheese that was thankfully still edible, and the aforementioned bread.

"I'm making..." you paused, assessing your options while trying to look confident, "a frittata."

"A what?" Lucien's brow furrowed in confusion.

"It's a... fancy egg thing." You waved your hand vaguely, accidentally knocking over a salt cellar. "Trust me. It's going to be amazing. Or at least edible. Probably."

Ember, clearly sensing an opportunity for chaos, leapt onto the counter beside Sizzle. Between them, they managed to nudge an apple off the edge, sending it rolling across the floor. You lunged for it, missed completely, and nearly face-planted into a cabinet.

"Your therapy animals are stealing my breakfast," Lucien observed dryly.

"They're helping," you insisted, straightening with as much dignity as possible.

Lucien snorted. "Is that what we're calling it?"

You cracked eggs into a bowl with more confidence than skill, several bits of shell following the yolks. You poked at them ineffectually with a finger, trying to fish them out. "Extra calcium," you muttered.

As you reached for a fork to beat them, you felt the bond pulse uncomfortably.

Even with the ash tea's dampening effects, certain movements still triggered sharp reminders of what lay beneath your skin, waiting to consume you again.

You must have winced, because Lucien was suddenly beside you, his movements silent and graceful.

"Here," he said, taking the bowl. "Let me."

"I'm fine," you insisted, though you let him take over. "The tea works. Mostly. Sometimes. When it feels like it."

"Most of the time," he agreed, beating the eggs with practiced ease.

The sight of the feared son of the Autumn Court whisking eggs was incongruous enough to make you smile. "Where did you learn to cook?"

A shadow crossed his face. "After Tamlin's... difficulties, staff was limited. I adapted."

"You're full of surprises, brother dear. Next you'll tell me you can knit or something." You peered at him suspiciously. "Wait, can you knit? Because I'd pay good money to see that."

The endearment slipped out without thought.

Lucien's hands stilled for just a heartbeat before resuming their work. You'd noticed he had a complicated relationship with the word "brother," perhaps because his blood brothers had tried to kill him, or perhaps because the one he'd chosen had betrayed him.

"Someone in this house needs practical skills," he replied lightly. "Particularly when sharing space with three fire hazards."

"Three?" You looked around in confusion.

His mismatched eyes met yours, amusement dancing in them. "I'm counting you."

Before you could formulate a suitably indignant response (which was definitely going to be brilliant and cutting, given enough time), Sizzle chose that moment to sneeze. A tiny fireball shot across the kitchen, singeing the edge of Lucien's sleeve.

"Cauldron boil me," he muttered, patting out the spark.

You couldn't help it. You burst out laughing, the sound so unexpected it startled you.

When was the last time you'd laughed? Before the bond. Before Azriel's rejection. Before the pain.

Lucien stared at you for a moment before his own lips curved upward. "You find my immolation amusing?"

"Your..." You gestured to his perfect posture, immaculate clothing, and general air of deadly competence. "Your dignified outrage. Over a bunny sneeze." You demonstrated, mimicking his affronted expression with exaggerated horror. "It's like watching a war general get taken down by a kitten."

He tilted his head, considering. "They're not actually rabbits, you know. They're flame sprites who just happen to take bunny form."

You blinked. "Wait, really?"

You looked down at Ember, who chose that moment to scratch behind his ear with his back foot in a quintessential rabbit move. "Have I been patronizing powerful supernatural entities this whole time?"

Lucien's face remained serious for precisely three seconds before cracking. "No. They're just magical rabbits who happen to be on fire."

You grabbed a handful of herbs and threw them at him. "You're terrible! I was ready to start a flame sprite worship cult!"

He dodged easily, grinning now. "And you're gullible."

"I am not..." You searched for words. "Okay, I am, but in my defense, nothing makes sense here. Last week I saw a bird with twelve wings and the face of an old man. A flaming rabbit isn't even in the top ten weird things."

Your protest was cut short as Ember, apparently jealous of the attention Sizzle had received, decided to hop directly into the bowl of beaten eggs.

Lucien lunged to catch him, but too late. The bowl tipped, sending its contents cascading down the front of his fine shirt.

Silence fell, broken only by Ember's pleased chirping.

Lucien looked down at his ruined clothing, then back at you, his expression so perfectly affronted that you couldn't contain another burst of laughter.

"Oh gods," you gasped between giggles. "Your face! It's like someone told you the Spring Court has better fashion sense."

"If you value your continued existence," he said with deadly calm, "you will stop laughing immediately."

This, of course, only made you laugh harder, clutching the counter for support. The bond in your chest gave a peculiar flutter, not pain this time, but something lighter, as if amused by the absurdity alongside you.

With deliberate slowness, Lucien reached for the remaining eggs on the counter. "You realize," he said conversationally, "this means war."

Your eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare. You're a dignified... um, whatever you are. Diplomat? Spy? Professional brooder?"

His metal eye clicked and whirred as he raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't I?"

The kitchen erupted into chaos. Eggs flew. Flour from some forgotten cupboard clouded the air.

You shrieked and ducked, accidentally upending a canister of what turned out to be cinnamon. The fire bunnies, delighted by this new game, bounced between you, leaving tiny scorch marks on everything they touched.

When Eris found you an hour later, you were both sitting on the kitchen floor, covered in food, surrounded by ecstatic fire bunnies, and laughing so hard you could barely breathe. You had a streak of flour across your nose and what appeared to be egg yolk in your hair.

He paused in the doorway, amber eyes taking in the disaster before him.

"I leave for three days," he said with exquisite disdain, "and return to... this."

Lucien didn't bother standing, just lifted his egg-crusted chin with mock dignity. "We were cooking."

"Clearly," Eris replied, stepping carefully over a puddle of what might have been honey. "I see it's going exceptionally well."

You exchanged a glance with Lucien, a silent communication passing between you.

The bond in your chest hummed quietly, for once not a source of agony but simply there.

A part of you. Manageable.

"Actually," you said, smiling at your eldest brother as egg dripped from your elbow, "it is."

The kitchen was still a disaster zone, but you'd at least managed to clean yourselves up. Mostly.

There was still something sticky in your hair that refused to be identified. Lucien had changed into a simple linen shirt, more casual than you'd ever seen him, while you'd washed the worst of the egg from your person.

Eris paced the length of the sitting room, his movements controlled and precise. Too precise.

You'd learned that Eris at his most controlled was Eris at his most dangerous. Like a snake coiling before it strikes, or a wine bottle about to be uncorked after being violently shaken.

"The Night Court came to Autumn yesterday," he said without preamble, his amber eyes fixing on yours. "Not as guests. As intruders."

The bond in your chest gave a sharp pulse, golden light briefly visible beneath the skin of your wrist before the ash tea smothered it again.

You curled your fingers into your palm, trying to mask the reaction.

"Why?" Lucien asked, leaning against the doorframe, his posture deliberately casual though his hand strayed near his knife.

"For her," Eris replied, nodding in your direction. His lips curved in a cold smile. "Your shadowsinger appears to be experiencing complications."

The words dropped into the room like stones into still water.

You kept your face carefully blank, even as your pulse quickened.

"Explain," you said, proud of how steady your voice remained.

Eris studied your face, as if searching for something specific. "They arrived openly at the gates. The High Lord and Lady, plus the general. Very diplomatic. Very proper." His eyes glittered. "While the shadowsinger slipped into the palace like a thief, incapacitated guards, and tore through the family wing straight to your chambers."

You found yourself oddly still, like a prey animal sensing a predator. "And?" You fiddled with a loose thread on your sleeve to keep your hands from shaking.

"When he found your chambers empty, he nearly brought the ceiling down." Eris's expression was calculating, weighing each word for its impact on you. "It took all three of them to contain him. A display of power that..." he paused, something like reluctant respect in his voice, "was impressive, even by their standards."

"So what you're saying is," you said, trying to keep your voice light, "I should definitely send him a bill for the damages."

Lucien shot you a warning glance, but Eris merely continued, ignoring your attempt at humor.

"And you stood with Beron?" Lucien asked, his eyebrow raised.

"I stood where I needed to," Eris replied coldly. "As I always do."

You pushed away from the table, needing to move, to process.

The bond pulsed steadily beneath the ash tea's numbing effects, neither painful nor pleasant, just there. A reminder of what had been forced upon you, like an annoying song stuck in your head, but with more existential dread.

"You need to leave," Eris continued. "Tonight. The bond is a beacon, ash tea or no. It's only a matter of time before the shadowsinger traces it to this place, and I doubt he'll be in a reasoning mood when he does."

"Leave and go where?" Lucien asked, his metal eye whirring softly as he studied his brother. "She's barely mastered not setting the bath towels on fire."

You shot him a betrayed look. "That was one time!"

"Three times," he corrected.

Eris's expression suggested he was reconsidering his entire plan. "The Dawn Court," he finally replied. "Thesan owes me a favor, and it's the last place they'd look. The shadowsinger's abilities are weakened in constant light."

You looked between them, these brothers with centuries of mistrust and shared secrets between them.

"And why would you help me get there? Not that I'm doubting your generosity," you added hastily, "but you don't seem like the helping type. More the 'watching people struggle while sipping wine' type."

Eris's expression remained unreadable.

"Because Beron is calling their intrusion an act of war. Because he's looking for someone to blame for all this." Something almost like genuine emotion flashed across his face. "And because I've seen what bond-madness does. To both parties."

Ember materialized in a tiny burst of flame beside your hand, his warm form coalescing from your own power. Sizzle appeared moments later, hopping across the table as if she'd been there all along.

These extensions of your fire magic (not pets, but manifestations of your ability to create and sustain life from flame) had become such a natural part of you that you barely noticed the small flare of power it took to maintain them.

Eris watched the bunnies with narrowed eyes. "You'll need to keep those under control in Dawn. They won't blend well with Thesan's menagerie of light beasts."

You ran a finger along Ember's spine, feeling the connection to your own magic. "They're a part of me. Like really adorable, flammable emotional support animals."

"Then contain them," Eris said simply. "I've arranged passage through a series of winnowing points. Thesan's sentries will meet you at the eastern border." His eyes met yours, sharp and knowing. "Unless... you want the shadowsinger to find you?"

The question hung in the air between you.

You considered it, truly considered it.

This bond you never asked for, with a male who had made clear what he thought of it. Of you.

You almost made a joke about how terrible his communication skills were, but something in Eris's expression stopped you.

But this wasn't just about Azriel anymore. This was about you. About finding space to breathe, to think, to be something other than a pawn in games between High Lords.

"I'll go," you said, the decision crystallizing within you like frost on glass. "But not because I'm running from him."

Eris raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No." You let a small flame dance across your fingertips, trying not to look too pleased when it didn't immediately get out of control. Ember and Sizzle chirped in harmony with the display. "I'm choosing myself this time."

Something that might have been respect flickered across Eris's face before it vanished beneath his usual cold mask. "Be ready at midnight. Bring only what you can carry."

After Eris had gone, Lucien moved to sit beside you. "You don't have to go," he said.

You glanced at him, surprised. "You think I should stay?"

"I think choosing yourself is the right decision," he replied, his scarred face solemn in the fading light. "But you don't have to do it alone."

You stared at him. "What are you saying?"

Lucien's mismatched eyes met yours, something resolute in them. "I'm saying I'll go with you. To the Dawn Court."

"What about your estate? Your position?" What about Elain? hung unspoken between you.

"This estate is just a pretty prison Beron lets me keep." He shrugged, the gesture attempting casualness but not quite succeeding. "And as for positions... well. Neither of us seems to fit where we're supposed to be, do we?"

You leaned your head against his shoulder, this brother who had become something like a friend in the strangest of circumstances. "They'll come after us. Both courts."

"Not in Dawn," Lucien said confidently. "Not even Rhysand would risk offending Thesan by barging into his territory uninvited. And Beron has never had good relations with the Dawn Court, too many centuries of mutual distrust."

Ember and Sizzle hopped between you, tiny flames dancing along their ears in excitement or perhaps resonating with your own feelings. As manifestations of your power, they often reflected emotions you hadn't even acknowledged to yourself.

"I need to pack," you said finally.

With a thought, you called the bunnies back to you, their forms dissolving into twin flames that curled around your fingers before vanishing beneath your skin.

It would take concentration to hold them there, but it was good practice for the Dawn Court where your fire creatures would be immediately recognized as Autumn Court magic.

Lucien nodded, something like admiration in his eyes at the display of control. "We leave at midnight, then."

For the first time since arriving in Prythian, you were writing your own story. And hopefully it wouldn't involve setting too many things on fire. Intentionally, anyway.

Madja completed the final healing seal over the last of his wounds, the golden light fading from her fingertips as she stepped back from the bed.

"You need rest," she said firmly, her ancient eyes seeing more than Azriel wanted to reveal. "At least three days. The bond-sickness has ravaged your system."

Azriel said nothing, lying perfectly still until the healer gathered her supplies and left his chambers in the House of Wind. The moment the door clicked shut, he was moving.

His body screamed in protest as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Wounds—both those he'd inflicted on himself and those sustained in the Autumn Court—pulled tight beneath fresh scars.

The bond pulsed steadily in his chest, calling to him with a voice that drowned out all reason, all duty, all previous attachments.

Not a tether. Not a chain. A lifeline.

His shadows, which had been suspiciously docile during the healing, erupted around him the moment he stood, dancing with renewed vigor.

They whispered to him in languages older than Prythian itself, but for once, they weren't telling him secrets of others. They were telling him his own truth.

She is yours. You are hers. Two halves finally finding wholeness.

How strange that he had spent centuries believing his shadows knew everything, only to realize they had been waiting all this time to tell him the one thing that mattered.

You.

He moved to the wardrobe, each step more steady than the last as certainty replaced pain. He dressed methodically in fighting leathers, his movements reverent, like a priest preparing for sacred rites.

Truth-Teller slid into its sheath at his hip, the blade singing softly in greeting.

For centuries, he had believed the knife's name referred to its function—to extract truth from others.

Now he understood it had always been about confronting his own.

The bond guided his hands as he prepared. This wasn't madness anymore. This was clarity.

He moved to the window, which opened onto a sheer drop from the House of Wind. Velaris spread below him, a city he had helped protect, helped build.

A home he had always served faithfully.

Until now.

His shadows surged forward, testing the night air, then returned with confirmation—Autumn's southern border. A hidden estate where you waited, whether you knew it or not.

Azriel unfurled his wings, feeling a strength in them he hadn't felt in centuries. As if the bond had stripped away not just his delusions but the weight of five hundred years of isolation. Of believing he was meant to stand apart, to watch others find happiness while he remained in shadow.

The Cauldron, in its twisted wisdom, had given him the one thing he never believed he deserved.

A soft knock at the door broke through his revelry. Before he could respond, it opened to reveal Elain standing in the doorway, a small basket of healing herbs in her hands.

"Madja asked me to bring these for your-" Her words faltered as she took in his appearance: not a healing invalid, but a warrior prepared for flight. "You're leaving."

Azriel turned to face her fully, allowing his shadows to recede.

For so long, he had believed himself in love with her, this gentle, quiet female who represented everything he thought he should want.

Safety. Comfort. Normalcy.

Looking at her now, he felt only a distant fondness, like remembering a dream upon waking.

The bond had burned away the illusion, leaving only truth behind.

"I'm sorry, Elain," he said, his voice steady with newfound conviction.

She set the basket down slowly. "For what?"

"For not understanding until now." His gaze met hers directly, no more hiding, no more half-truths. "I thought I loved you because you were safe. Because wanting you was less terrifying than facing what I truly needed."

The golden light beneath his skin pulsed brighter, illuminating the darkness between them. Not hiding anything anymore.

"It's her," Elain said softly. Not a question.

"It's always been her," Azriel replied, the truth of it resonating through his entire being. "I just didn't know it until the bond showed me." His voice softened. "She was made for me. Every broken piece of me fits with every broken piece of her."

Saying the words aloud felt like setting down a burden he'd carried his entire life: the belief that he was too damaged, too dark, too scarred for real connection.

Elain's eyes shimmered with tears, but something like understanding flickered in their depths. "The seer in me sensed it, I think. That's why I always kept my distance, even when you..." She didn't finish the thought.

"Even when I tried to convince us both otherwise," he completed gently.

The bond surged beneath his skin, impatient now, reminding him that every moment spent here was a moment away from you. His wings twitched in response, readying for flight.

"She's with Lucien," Elain said softly.

At the mention of Lucien's name, Azriel felt a strange calm knowing you're with one of your brothers.

"I know. Ironic, isn't it?" A faint, sad smile touched his lips. "The Cauldron has a twisted sense of humor."

"What will you do?"

"Whatever I must," he answered simply. "She is mine as I am hers. Even if she doesn't know it yet."

Elain studied him, seeing perhaps more clearly than anyone else ever had. "You've changed."

"I've awakened," he corrected gently. "Everything before her was a half-life. A shadow existence."

Understanding passed between them, a final acknowledgment of what might have been and what never truly was. Elain nodded once, acceptance in the gesture.

"Cassian went to find Rhys," she said. "They'll try to stop you."

"I know."

"Go," she whispered. "Find your completion."

Azriel held her gaze for one final moment, gratitude in his eyes for this unexpected blessing. Then he stepped backward off the ledge, wings snapping open to catch the night air.

As he banked sharply southward, shadows streaming behind him like wedding ribbons, he felt the bond singing through his blood.

Not the desperate, painful tug of before, but a joyful, certain pull—like coming home after a war, like finding shelter after a storm.

Like a soul finally recognizing its other half.

He flew toward you with the absolute certainty that whatever happened next—whether you accepted him or not, whether you fled or fought—this was the truth his entire existence had been building toward. You were made for him, as he was made for you, two pieces of the same impossible puzzle.

And nothing in Prythian would keep him from you again.

"Are you certain we can't bring any of Eris's wine?" You folded another tunic into your travel pack, trying to keep your movements casual despite the excitement thrumming through you.

Dawn Court. Freedom. Or at least something resembling it.

Lucien leaned against the doorframe, his metal eye whirring as it tracked your movements. "We're fugitives, not thieves."

"Says the male who packed sixteen of Eris's daggers," you countered, nodding toward the impressive array of weapons laid out on the bed.

"Those are technically mine. He stole them first."

You grinned, about to respond when the bond gave a sudden, violent pulse beneath your skin. It flared for a moment before the ash tea suppressed it again, but the urgency in the sensation was new. Different.

"What is it?" Lucien asked, noticing your expression change.

"Nothing," you said automatically, pressing a hand to your chest. "Just the bond... acting strange."

Lucien frowned, his hand dropping to the knife at his hip, a gesture so automatic he probably didn't realize he'd done it. "Strange how?"

Before you could answer, Ember and Sizzle materialized beside you, their tiny bodies coalescing from flame without your conscious summons. They weren't playful or curious as usual; their ears were flattened, bodies crouched low in alarm.

"That's... not normal," Lucien observed, pushing away from the doorframe.

A crash from downstairs shattered the moment—glass breaking, wood splintering. Voices, unfamiliar and angry, shouted commands to each other.

"Find her! The Lady owes us blood!"

Your eyes widened. "What in the hell-"

Lucien was already moving, grabbing your pack with one hand and your arm with the other. "Back exit. Now."

You stumbled after him, mind racing. "Who would-"

"Later," he hissed, pulling you toward the servant's stairs at the back of the hall.

You'd barely taken three steps when a figure appeared at the top of the main staircase—a male Fae with skin that resembled bark and branches twisting from his scalp like antlers. His eyes glowed an eerie green as his lips pulled back to reveal thorn-sharp teeth. "There she is! The bitch who betrayed our grove to the Summer Court hunters!"

You blinked in confusion. "Excuse me?"

Another crash downstairs, and more voices joined the first. Lucien swore under his breath, yanking you toward the stairs.

Lucien propelled you down the narrow stairs, his movements efficient and practiced. "Apparently," he said between breaths, "You had quite the talent for making enemies."

"Oh." Wonderful.

Not only were you trapped in a Fae body, bonded to a shadowsinger, and hiding from multiple courts, but now you were being hunted for someone else's crimes. Perfect.

You reached the bottom of the stairs only to find your escape route blocked by two more intruders—females with skin like polished stone and vines twisting through their hair, wielding wickedly curved daggers of bone.

"There's nowhere to run, traitor," one hissed, her voice like leaves rustling in wind.

Lucien pushed you behind him, his hand wreathing in flame. "Look, there's been a misunderstanding-"

A bone dagger flew through the air, missing his head by inches.

"No misunderstandings," the second female snarled. "Just vengeance."

Ember and Sizzle, still hovering at your sides, suddenly charged forward in twin streaks of flame, startling the wood nymphs and giving Lucien the opening he needed.

Fire erupted from his hands, driving them back long enough for you to dart past, Lucien close behind.

"The kitchens," he directed, "through the pantry!"

You ran, heart hammering in your chest. The bond pulsed in time with each beat, as if responding to your fear.

You tried to summon your own fire magic, but the ash tea had dampened your power to a flicker. Ember and Sizzle, extensions of that same magic, seemed weaker too, their flames dimmer than usual.

More crashes behind you, the sound of furniture splintering. How many were there?

You burst into the kitchen, skidding on the floor still slick with egg from your earlier escapades. Lucien caught your arm before you fell, steadying you.

"Almost there," he encouraged, guiding you toward the pantry door that led to an external courtyard.

A massive figure stepped through the doorway ahead, blocking your path. Nearly seven feet tall, with skin like ancient oak and eyes that glowed forest green, he carried a spear of living wood that dripped with some viscous sap.

"The Lady of Autumn," he rumbled, his voice like branches breaking in a storm. "Your treachery cost me three saplings."

"I'm not-" you began, but he was already lunging forward, spear aimed at your heart.

Lucien shoved you sideways, the spear grazing his arm instead. He hissed in pain but returned with a slash of his knife, forcing the giant back.

"Run!" he ordered. "The window!"

You scrambled toward the kitchen window, throwing open the shutters. It was a tight fit, but possible. Behind you, the sounds of fighting intensified; more of the wood nymphs had entered the kitchen, surrounding Lucien who fought with brutal efficiency, fire and steel flashing in deadly arcs.

Ember and Sizzle darted at the intruders' faces, small distractions that bought precious seconds.

You were halfway through the window when a hand closed around your ankle, yanking you back inside. You crashed to the floor, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs.

The antlered male from upstairs stood over you, mouth stretched in a terrible grin. "The bounty on your head will feed my grove for a year," he snarled, reaching down to grip your throat.

His hand closed around your neck, bark-rough skin abrading yours as he lifted you off the ground. The ash tea had weakened you too much to fight back effectively. You clawed at his arm, trying to break his hold, but his grip only tightened.

"I'll deliver your heart to the Grove Elder myself," he hissed, face inches from yours.

Black spots danced at the edges of your vision as you struggled for air. The bond in your chest pulsed frantically, golden light seeping through your skin despite the ash tea's effects.

Just as consciousness began to fade, an arrow whistled through the air, striking you in the shoulder. The antlered male loosened his grip in surprise, and you dropped to the floor, gasping and clutching your bleeding wound.

"Idiot!" one of the stone-skinned females shouted at an archer across the room. "We need her alive for the bounty!"

"She moved!" the archer protested.

You crawled backward, blood seeping between your fingers where you clutched your shoulder. The arrow had gone clean through, but the pain was blinding.

Lucien was still fighting by the pantry door, now facing four opponents at once. He'd lost his knife and was fighting with pure fire, but even he couldn't hold them off much longer.

"Lucien!" you called, your voice ragged from the strangling.

He glanced your way, taking in your wounded state with a single look. His face hardened into something dangerous.

"Enough," he said, his voice deadly quiet.

Fire erupted from him in a wave, not the controlled flames from before but a roaring inferno that engulfed the kitchen. The wood nymphs shrieked, their forest-adapted bodies especially vulnerable to fire. They retreated, but Lucien wasn't giving them the chance to escape.

"You came to the wrong house," he snarled, the fire growing hotter, climbing the walls, catching the rafters.

The antlered male stumbled toward you, apparently determined to complete his mission despite the flames. You kicked out desperately, catching him in the knee. He fell forward, his antlers slicing your arm as he went down.

More of your blood spilled, splattering across his face. He recoiled, wiping at it furiously.

"Lucien!" you shouted again as the fire spread, the heat becoming unbearable.

In three long strides, he was beside you, scooping you into his arms. Your blood smeared across his shirt, but he didn't seem to notice or care.

"Hold on," he commanded, his voice tight with fury and fear.

The fire was everywhere now, consuming the kitchen, racing through the house with unnatural speed. The wood nymphs were in full retreat, those who could still move dragging their injured companions.

"What are you doing?" you gasped as Lucien carried you not toward an exit but deeper into the burning house.

"Making sure they can't follow," he replied grimly. "And covering our tracks."

He kicked open the door to Eris's study, strode to the desk, and shifted you in his arms just long enough to grab a small wooden box from a hidden compartment.

"Now we go," he said, tucking the box into his pocket.

The house was fully engulfed now, the structure groaning as support beams weakened. Ember and Sizzle had vanished, either returned to your body or consumed by the larger fire.

"Can you winnow us both?" you asked, the pain in your shoulder making it hard to focus.

"Let's find out," Lucien replied, tightening his hold on you. "Because we're out of options."

He closed his eyes, gathering what power he had.

The roof above you creaked ominously, beginning to collapse.

The last thing you saw before the world dissolved around you was fire, everywhere, consuming everything, leaving nothing but ash in its wake.

Azriel descended through the night, the bond a molten thread in his chest that pulled tighter with each wing beat.

The smoke from Lucien's burning estate rose in angry plumes below, golden embers dancing against the darkness like a perversion of starlight.

His shadows writhed across his skin, agitated and hungry in a way he'd never experienced before. They weren't just extensions of him anymore; they were sentient with purpose, with rage.

I reject you. I don't want anything to do with you.

His own words haunted him as he landed silently on the ridge overlooking the burning manor.

The memory of your face when he'd spoken them, the devastation, the raw hurt, clawed at him from within. The arrogance of it. The blind, willful rejection of what the Cauldron had designed for him alone.

Below, figures moved through the fiery ruins—lesser fae from the border territories, picking through the remains like carrion birds. The sight of them touching what had been your temporary sanctuary sent a wave of territorial fury through him.

"Nothing worth salvaging," one called out, kicking at a collapsed beam. "The Lady of Autumn escaped before we could finish the job."

The bond twisted at those words, spearing white-hot pain through Azriel's chest.

His vision blurred momentarily as golden light seeped from beneath his skin, not just at his collar now, but at his wrists, fingertips, even the corners of his eyes.

His shadows surged outward, independent of his command, tasting the air and returning with information that made the light beneath his skin pulse like a war drum.

Blood.

His focus narrowed to a bark-skinned male with antlers twisting from his scalp. There, on his hands: dark stains. Not ash or soot, but something his shadows recognized instantly.

Your blood.

The golden thread inside his chest vibrated, attuning to the specific rhythm of your spilled blood.

For one terrible moment, Azriel felt exactly what you had felt when that blood was drawn, the sharp pain of an arrow, the crushing pressure of hands around your throat.

Something inside him broke.

He dropped from the ridge, shadows streaming behind him like war banners. He landed in their midst without a sound, the impact crater in the ash the only indication of his arrival.

They froze, conversation dying as they registered his presence.

Recognition rippled through them, not of him specifically, but of what he was. What he represented.

Death. Vengeance. Night itself given form.

"You touched what belongs to me," Azriel said, his voice so soft it seemed to absorb sound rather than create it.

They backed away instinctively, hands moving to weapons.

Too late. Far too late.

"We meant no offense to the Night Court," the antlered male stammered. "Our business was with the Lady of Autumn-"

"Your business," Azriel interrupted, each word carved from ice, "is now with me."

His shadows whipped forward, tasting the stains on the male's hands. They returned to their master with confirmation that sent golden light blazing from beneath his skin, so bright it cast harsh shadows across the burning wreckage.

Externally, Azriel remained perfectly still, not a muscle moving, not an expression changing.

But inside, where no one could see, the carefully constructed walls of five centuries crumbled to dust. The civilized being he had pretended to be, the controlled, disciplined shadowsinger, dissolved.

What remained was something ancient and merciless. Something that had existed long before Prythian, before High Lords and courts and politics.

A mated male whose mate had been harmed.

The antlered male saw the change happen in Azriel's eyes, watched hazel irises be consumed by molten gold that seemed to burn from within. He backpedaled, suddenly understanding the true danger.

"She's your-"

The words died in his throat as Azriel's shadows thickened around him, blocking out what little light remained. The rest of them scattered like leaves in a storm, primal instinct driving them to flee what they now recognized as death incarnate.

Azriel watched them run, head tilted slightly as his shadows mapped their escape routes, their breathing patterns, the tempo of their terrified heartbeats.

He memorized the specific cadence of the antlered male's footfalls, the one whose hands were stained with your blood.

His lips tilted into a sick smile.

He gave them a head start. Thirty seconds of desperate hope. Enough time for their lungs to burn with exertion, for their minds to imagine they might survive.

The antlered male reached the tree line first, glancing over his shoulder to see nothing but darkness behind him. Relief flickered across his features as he plunged into the forest, believing himself unseen.

Azriel's wings snapped open with a sound like distant thunder. He took to the air, a shadow among shadows, moving with the terrible patience of a predator who knows its prey cannot escape.

The male crashed through the underbrush, lungs heaving as he tried to put distance between himself and the burning estate. He paused at a small clearing, bending over to gasp for breath.

"I think we lost him," he wheezed to his companion. "Even the Night Court wouldn't risk war with Autumn by hunting us this far into their territory."

When no response came, he straightened and turned, only to find himself alone.

"Teren?" he called, voice barely above a whisper.

The forest fell silent.

Not the natural quiet of night, but the absolute stillness that comes when every living thing recognizes a superior predator in their midst. Even the insects ceased their songs.

Drawing his knife, the male turned in a slow circle. "Where are you?" he demanded, false bravado unable to mask the tremor in his voice.

A soft sound behind him, not quite a footfall, more like the settling of ash after a fire.

He whirled, knife extended.

Nothing.

Another sound, to his left. He pivoted again.

Empty air.

"Face me!" he shouted, panic rising as he realized he was being toyed with.

"As you wish."

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, cold as midwinter frost. Before the male could move, shadows solidified directly before him, coalescing into Azriel's form. Not a wingspan away, close enough that the faerie could feel the unnatural chill radiating from his skin.

The knife slipped from nerveless fingers.

"Please," the fae breathed, "it was just a job. The Grove Elder paid for her capture, not her death. We didn't know she was mated-"

"You put your hands on her throat," Azriel interrupted, the words barely audible yet carrying perfectly in the still air. Through the bond, he could feel exactly where your bruises were forming, could trace the pattern of the male's fingers on your skin. "I felt her struggle to breathe."

"It was an accident," the fae pleaded. "We were supposed to take her alive. The arrow wasn't meant-"

"The arrow," Azriel echoed, his voice flat but his eyes flaring brighter. The bond throbbed in time with your wound, a phantom pain in his own shoulder that fed his rage.

With fluid grace, he closed the remaining distance between them.

Truth-Teller slid between the fae's ribs with surgical precision, angled upward to find his heart. The male gasped, eyes widening as he stared into Azriel's face.

"You tried to take my heart," Azriel whispered, the intimacy of his tone more terrifying than any shout. "I'll take yours as payment."

"Where is she?" Azriel asked, his voice gentle now, almost soothing as he twisted the blade slightly.

Blood bubbled at the faerie's lips as he struggled to form words. "Dawn," he choked out, the truth spilling from him along with his lifeblood. "Vanserra... taking her to... Dawn Court."

As the light faded from the male's eyes, Azriel felt a peculiar sensation through the bond, a distant easing of pain, as if some cosmic scale had been partially balanced by this death. Your unconscious recognition of vengeance exacted in your name.

He withdrew Truth-Teller with the same care with which he'd inserted it, lowering the body to the forest floor.

Blood, not yours, but blood shed for you, dripped from the blade's edge, each drop sizzling slightly where it touched the golden light still emanating from his skin.

"One," he whispered to the night.

His shadows twisted expectantly around him, carrying the scent of the remaining fae, five more who had dared to harm what was his.

Five more debts to collect before he flew to Dawn. To you.

The bond pulled tighter, urging him toward completion of both tasks. He could feel your pain even now, across the miles that separated you, the throbbing wound in your shoulder, the raw ache in your throat, the exhaustion of terror and flight.

Then he dissolved once more into the darkness, leaving nothing behind but a cooling corpse and the promise of five more to come.

Author’s Note:

Azriel said “emotional regulation is for the weak” and proceeded to unravel like a bloodstained tapestry. This chapter is feral, a little unhinged, and full of golden light and bad decisions. Thank you for loving these chaotic disaster soulmates as much as I do. 💀💛

Taglist: @circe143 @lunarxcity @willowpains @messageforthesmallestman @lreadsstuff @evye47 @lovely-susie @moonfawnx @tele86 @moonlitlavenders @darkbloodsly @ees-chaotic-brain @smol-grandpa @auraofathena @lottiiee413 @minaaminaa8 @claudiab22 @moonbeamruins @shewolf1549 @crimsonandwhiteprincess @a-band-aid-for-your-heart @kathren1sky-blog @alimarie1105 @masbt1218 @topaz125 @falszywe @randomdumsblog @sophia-grace2025 @okaytrashpanda @thegoddessofnothingness @unarxcity @moonfawnx @svearehnn @suhke3 @galaxystern08 @willowpains @ivy-34 @hellsenthero @nayaniasworld @raccoonworld @bobbywobbby @evergreenlark @greenmandm @bobbywobbby @shinyghosteclipse @catloverandreader @the-onlyy-angie @bunnboosblog @i-like-boooks @ashduv @kayjaywrites @lovelyreaderlovesreading @badbishsblog @vera0124 @i-am-infinite @scatteredstardustt

[ariestrxsh]

olderbrothersbsf!matt x innocent!reader

જ⁀➴ ♡ content warning: smut, getting caught, humiliation, thigh riding (kinda), forbidden love, matt and your brother low-key get into a physical altercation

જ⁀➴ ♡ summary: your brother figures out that you and matt have been sneaking around with each other and sleeping together

dividers by @/roseraris

Young God

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

It was a warm summer evening. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting pink and orange hues across the sky that poured in through the big living room window. Matt and your brother were side-by-side slumped into the cozy couch as their eyes danced across the screen of the television where two wrestlers were both struggling against the other to get the upper hand in the last round of their fight.

"I want to take your sister out on a date," Matt casually mentioned, peering over at your brother and scanning his face for a reaction. It had been a few weeks since you and Matt had started sleeping together, unbeknownst to your brother. "A date?" Your brother reiterated, skepticism radiating in his voice as he narrowed his gaze. "Matt, I've known you for fifteen years. I've never once seen you take a girl out on a proper date."

It was true. Matt had never once taken a girl out, paid for her dinner, and brought her back home at a decent hour. He mostly just had hookups, little flings, and casual sex, almost never with the same girl.

"Also, the answer is no," he scoffed, rolling his eyes at the fact that Matt would even suggest something so absurd. "I'm not asking. Well, I'm not asking you at least. I'm asking your sister. I was just giving you a heads up as a courtesy," Matt smirked, knowing you were already going to say yes.

"What the fuck, Matt? I told you to stay away from her," your brother stood to his feet. "She's a big girl. She can make her own decisions," Matt blurted out, making eye contact. Your brother shot him a look of contempt. "You know, I've been getting rusty. I've been meaning to practice my wrestling moves. Come on. Let's go, Matt," your brother challenged him, puffing out his chest.

"Oh, dude. Come on. I was never in your weight class. That would be totally unfair," Matt said, rolling his eyes, but your brother pulled him to his feet anyway. "Come on, Matt. Don't be a pussy." Your brother shoved him, clenching his jaw. Matt regained his balance, balling his fists. "She's not gonna say yes to you. She knows what a perv you are," your brother flatly responded, raising an eye brow. "Maybe she likes it," Matt sneered back.

When you emerged from your bedroom in your pajamas for the night, you walked in on your brother, tackling Matt to the ground and pulling him into a headlock. Your eyes widened, and you shuffled over to them. "Hey, stop hurting him!" You yelled, nearly putting yourself between the two of them to get them to stop. Your mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario - he knows.

Your brother rolled off of him and stood up. "Don't worry, sis. We were just brushing up on our wrestling skills. Right, Matt?" Your brother calmly responded, pulling Matt to his feet, but even the way he helped Matt up had a bit of resenetment behind it. "Yeah, I'm fine," Matt breathlessly answered. "See? Totally fine," your brother reiterated, slugging Matt hard in the arm but playing it off like it was a friendly gesture.

Matt winced, his hand gripping his bicep where your brother had struck him. "Yep. Everything's all good here," Matt assured you, but you could feel the thick tension in the room. Your eyes danced between both boys, searching for answers, worried that your brother had found out about the secret activities you and Matt had been taking part in together.

"I'm gonna go shower," your brother mentioned, giving Matt one last death glare before heading off down the hall to the bathroom. He didn't like the idea of leaving the two of you alone, but he couldn't stand to hear you say yes to a date with his best friend, and he certainly didn't want to hear the flirting leading up to the question.

"Were you guys fighting?" You asked Matt, your eyes filled with concern as Matt shut off the TV. "No, sweet thing. We were just messing around and showing each other wrestling moves," he assured you, caressing your cheek. "Want me to show you?" Matt bit his lip at the idea of pinning you to the ground.

You nodded. "Sure, that sounds like fun. As long as you don't hurt me like my brother hurt you," you told him, sensing his pain. "Don't worry. I'll go easy on you. I'm just gonna teach you some basics. First, you gotta start off with a good stance," he told you, crouching down a bit and putting one foot in front of the other. He held up his hands. You mimicked his stance.

With his face a few inches from yours, he lightly grabbed ahold of your jaw and gently planted a kiss on your lips. You felt blood rush to your cheeks, and you gave him a shy smile. "Okay, I want you to try to take me down," he smirked at you. "You ready? Just use your body weight to try to pin me to the ground," He directed you, and you nodded in response.

You lunged, shifting your weight onto your forward foot and attempting to tackle him to the floor the same way you'd seen your brother do earlier. Matt hooked his arms around your waist and tossed you over his shoulder. "Nice try," he laughed, gently throwing you to the ground and holding you down by your wrists. "Gotcha," he whispered, his body pressed against yours, pinning you in place.

"See how I did that? Used your own attack against you? People underestimate defense in fighting. That's really how you master wrestling. It's less about attacking and more about waiting for your opponent to leave themselves open in an attack," he taught you. "And when they let their guard down, you counter their move."

Just as Matt said this, he loosened his grip on your wrists, and you took this opportunity to wiggle out of his hold, and when he went to pin you down again, you wrapped your legs around his neck, holding his head against your heat. "Wow. That was impressive. You're stronger than you look," Matt complimented you as you squeezed your thighs around his ears.

He tilted his head forward and started nuzzling your clothed clit, sending waves of pleasure through you. Your eyes rolled back, and a soft sound of delight slipped through your lips. He loved watching you go from being really shy and reserved to surrendering to the feeling of his mouth and forgetting how bashful you were for a moment.

"Mmmm," Matt hummed, pressing his tongue against the wet spot forming between your legs. You writhed beneath him, giving into your desire for him as he hooked his arms around your thighs and restrained your hips to keep you from moving around so much.

While you were preoccupied with the way Matt worked his mouth on you, he maneuvered out of the headlock you had him in with your thighs. He climbed on top of you, fixing your wrists to the floor and smugly smiling down at you. "See? You got distracted. If you wanna be a good wrestler, you can't let your opponent distract you," he pointed out, threading his knee between your legs.

He could feel your warmth radiating off of you. You both stared lovingly into each other's eyes for a moment, the sexual tension between the two of you building. "I know you're already in your pajamas, but how would you like to go on a date with me tonight?" Matt cooed, wetting his lips while he leered at yours. "I-I'd love to," you stammered with a surprised expression on your face.

You and Matt had briefly talked about going on a date, but after he didn't bring it up for a few days, you were starting to think he forgot. "We can go get desert. Maybe go to the drive in?" He requested, tightening his grip on your wrists. You bit your lip to hold back a whimper as Matt pressed his knee between your thighs, applying pressure to your sweet spot.

You weakly nodded, the muscles in your face relaxing. "I'd ask what movie you want to see, but I have a feeling we won't be watching much of it," Matt chuckled, leaning down and whispering into your ear as he continued rutting his knee into your pussy. His lips latched onto your neck, sending an exciting sensation through all your nerve endings.

He listened as your pretty moans floated out into the atmosphere and dissipated. He pulled back again to inspect the pleasure written into your expression, noticing your drooling cunt seeping through your layers and onto his pant leg. "Good girl," he purred as you started bucking your hips, rubbing up against Matt's thigh. He could tell you were getting close.

Your brother had just finished up with his shower, and he stepped out into the hallway and made his way into the living room with a fresh pair of pajama pants and a clean shirt on. His eyes immediately landed on Matt who was leaning over you, holding you down, and pressing his knee into your mound as he moved it in circles against your cunt.

"Like it when I push down right there?" He wondered, applying a bit more pressure and watching your eyes roll back again. You nodded, a whimper escaping your pink lips as you rolled your hips forward faster onto his knee. Neither one of you were aware that you weren't alone until your brother's voice startled you both. "Matt! What the fuck? What are you doing to my sister?!"

Matt immediately stopped rubbing his knee up against you, and his eyes flicked up to meet your brother's with a guilty look on his face, but it was too late. You couldn't stop yourself. The knot in your stomach came undone, your whole body twitching uncontrollably as you came, soaking through your clothes and onto the knee of Matt's jeans.

"You guys make me sick!" Your brother exclaimed, in shock of the depraved behavior you were exhibiting. "We were just wrestling," Matt said in a soft, unconvincing voice as he peered down at your fucked out expression, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. "I don't remember learning about that in wrestling," your brother snarked.

Matt released his hold on your wrists, and you pulled yourself to your feet, sobbing and running out of the room. You were utterly humiliated, and when you sprinted into your room, you slammed the door shut and dove under your blanket.

"Dude. How could you embarrass her like that?" Matt asked, starting off after you, but your brother blocked him from getting past him. "I think you should go," your brother said to him. Matt just gave him a challenging look, snarling in his direction. "I'm not leaving before I talk to her and help her feel better."

"How? With your dick?" Your brother scoffed. Matt ignored his sly comment and went to push past him again, but your brother stopped him once more. "You've already slept with her, haven't you?" Your brother accused him. "What the hell are you talking about?" Matt shot back, avoiding his question, but his mind was flooded by thoughts of you and all the different positions he'd taken you in.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," your brother gruffed back, putting all the pieces together about how strange the two of you had been acting recently. "I'm not just messing around with her, okay? I really like her," Matt sincerely replied, holding eye contact with your brother. "Get out before I kick your ass," your brother responded flatly.

Matt knew he was testing his luck by pushing to see you, and he knew he actually would get his ass kicked if he stayed much longer, so without putting up any more of a fight, he turned around and walked out the door.

Not too long after he left, you heard your phone ring. You were still hiding under the covers, wiping your tears, and sniffling, but when you saw Matt's name on your screen, you had to hear his voice. You picked up, held the phone to your ear, and did your best to muster up the courage to say, "Hello?"

"Awh, sweet thing. You sound like you're still crying," Matt sympathetically said on the other line. "I'm just really embarrassed," you admitted after a few seconds of silence. "That's okay. It happens to the best of us. Sometimes you get caught, and then you move on," Matt told you.

"You've been caught before?" You asked, sniffling and wiping away your last few tears. You sounded a bit surprised. "Yeah, but it was even worse because my mom walked in on me," Matt confessed to you. You gasped. "Your mom?"

"Yeah, so count your blessings, because it could have been way worse," Matt chuckled into the phone. You giggled along, feeling way better after talking to Matt. "Your brother did seem pretty mad when I left, but with me, not at you. I swear, you can't do anything wrong in that man's eyes. Just give him a couple hours to cool off, and I'm sure everything will go back to normal."

You spent the next twenty minutes on the phone with Matt, finally finding humor in the situation instead of being consumed by embarrassment over it. He made you laugh, he made you smile, and he made your heart flutter when he confirmed your date, telling you go take a shower, put on your prettiest dress, and he'd be waiting for you outside in an hour.

You did just as he said, shaving your legs and scrubbing every inch of your body, the whole time looking forward to your date. You sat in front of your vanity, applying your makeup and holding a few different dresses up to your body in the mirror. You finally settled on a sleeveless black dress and a pair of strappy, black high heels.

You had just finished topping off your look with a bright red lip and spritzing yourself with a floral perfume when your phone vibrated. It was Matt, letting you know he was waiting outside in his mustang. You took a deep breath, staring down at the text and realizing you were going to have to face your brother on your way out the door.

You smoothed out your black dress, admiring the way you looked in the mirror before spinning around and heading out your bedroom door. You tried to walk quietly down the hall, but your heels clicked against the hardwood floor, earning your brother's attention as he craned his neck around from the couch where he was still watching some dumb wrestling match.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" He asked, his jaw tightening when it occurred to him that you might be going on your first date with Matt, the same Matt who had been his best friend since childhood, and the same Matt he'd always warned you to stay away from.

"Out," you responded, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes and giving him the kind of attitude you'd never had the courage to give him before. Before he could stop you or try to talk you out of it, you were storming out of the house and trotting down the driveway to Matt who was pulled up next to the curb.

Your brother swung the door open after you'd slammed it in his face. "If you don't have her home by midnight, Sturniolo - !" He called after the two of you. "I'll come home when I want to!" You shouted back, interrupting him and continuing your journey down the driveway. Your brother stood completely dumbfounded in the doorway as you got into Matt's mustang.

"Fuck. You look and smell amazing," Matt told you, placing his hand on the inside of your thigh and leaning in to press his lips against the side of your neck before the two of you drove off into the night.

part six here ❣️

[thevoidstaredback]

Part 3

Danny realized, just as dawn was lighting up the world around him, that he knew almost nothing about the world outside of the USA. Even Canada and Mexico were barely footnotes outside of a chapter or two throughout all of his schooling! So, he landed just as a city came into view, let himself warmup with the release of his ghostly transformation, and pulled out his phone to figure out where the hell he was.

With barely any reception, Danny found himself to be just outside Monterrey, Mexico.

"Monterrey, Mexico, the capitol city of Nuevo León, boasts a sprawling business and industrial center. Spanning 125.3 square miles (324.8 squared kilometers), the city is home to ~5,341,177 people. The city is just over 428 years old, having been founded in the 16th century. Notable places to visit, such as Palacio del Obispado (1787-88), Museo de Arte Contemporáneo (2001), Faro de Comercio (1984) are recommended visits for people new to the city."

Sometimes Google was useful.

It was early morning, but the streets were already coming to life with music and voices. Suddenly, the tiny little world Danny'd been trapped in his whole life seemed so dim.

Everything was more beautiful than he'd ever noticed before. Brighter, more colorful, more musical.

Was this what Dani saw every time she left Amity? Was this how she always saw the world? He could see the appeal.

The brand new sights and smells and sounds overwhelmed him as the sun rose higher in the sky, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. It was almost the same kind of overwhelming feeling he got when he thought about space; good and begging for him to feed it.

He walked on, passing hundreds of people all speaking a language he didn't know-

Ah. He'd better pick up on it fast. It'd be rude to demand they speak his language in their home, right?

He pulled out his phone and took a quick selfie to send to Jazz, unable to stop his grin.

"It's so colorful," he told her, "I can see why Dani likes it so much out here."

She didn't respond, but he didn't expect her to. Not for a while, at least.

He texted Dani next. The same picture, though all he said was "Monterrey, Mexico."

Dani answered before he could even put his phone back in his bag. She, too, had send a selfie captioned, "Cobán, Guatemala, bitch!"

He laughed.

There was a chuckle behind him. "Un turista, ¿no?"

He turned around, suddenly re-kicking himself for not taking Spanish in school. Putting on his most apologetic expression, he said, "I'm sorry, I don't-"

The person laughed, wiping a fake tear from their eye. "Don't worry about it," they said in heavily accented English, "You're a long way from home."

He nodded. "A bit, yeah."

"You're not from a big city, are you?" It wasn't a question.

"How'd you know?"

"Stopping in the middle of the street is a good way to get jumped in any city, mi amigo." Danny shifted into a defensive stance, wary of the stranger. They laughed again. "Don't worry about me, I won't hurt you." He didn't believe them. they stuck their hand out. "Me llamo Alejandro."

He relaxed minutely. "Danny."

"Short for Daniel?"

"Just Danny."

They backed up some, their hands up. "I get it, man. What brings you to mi hermosa ciudad?"

"My reasons are my own."

"A fugitivo, got it."

"I'm not-"

"Relax! I'm not gonna turn you in. That's too much work. Besides, I know lots 'a guys like you. Not many stay in the city, but a lot of 'em start out here."

"Really?"

"More than you'd think."

Danny hummed. Then, he had an idea. "Could you teach me Spanish?"

Alejandro raised an eyebrow. "What happened to not trusting me?"

He blushed just a little and looked away, "Well, I don't want to not be able to understand anyone while I'm here, and you seem pretty friendly."

Alejandro shook their head with a smirk. "Way too trusting. Sure, I'll teach you, come on."

Danny followed after them, weaving between people and not running into a single person. Alejandro was all skill while Danny used a bit of intangibility.

Instead of taking him somewhere they could teach and learn in peace, as Danny had expected, Alejandro lead him through the city, giving a detailed tour of everything in the way only a local who loved their city more than anything could do. They knew every part of the city, every person seemed to know them, though they didn't so much as exchange a wave. A few kids stopped them and they played basketball in a park for a while before moving on.

Eventually, the day had to come to an end. As the sun was setting over the mountains, Alejandro lead Danny to a group of houses just on the playground, a bit more rundown with use.

"It's refreshing to see someone so full of childlike wonder when I show them mi hogar for the first time," they said, "Don't ever lose that, okay? Don't let anyone ever take that away from you, okay?"

There was a desperation in their tone, hidden, but loud enough to speak volumes of something that Danny wasn't privileged to know about. "Okay."

They sighed like something heavy had been lifted off their shoulders. "Good, good." They straightened up. "Now, for your Spanish lesson. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be speaking like it's your first language!"

The gleam in their eye reminded Danny of Sam when she was gearing up to explain the current activist page she was deep-diving; of Tucker when he was explaining the newest upgrade to his PDA; of Jazz when she was psychoanalyzing everyone in sight. It made him homesick.

He promised to have the language perfected before he left this city.

Part 5

Translation 1 - Spanish: A tourist, aye? Translation 2 - Spanish: my friend. Translation 3 - Spanish: My name's Alejandro Translation 4 - Spanish: my beautiful city? Translation 5 - Spanish: runaway, Translation 6 - Spanish: my home