#but then those shirts were lost in the house fire

[florida3exclamationpoints]

Besties. I started going through my dresser yesterday and found my old speak now tour shirts that I thought I couldn't wear anymore. But I can 😌

[ozarkthedog]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

summary: the world crumbled before you could experience the touch of another. Joel does his best to keep you innocent for as long as he can.

pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x afab virgin!reader.

warnings: 18+ mdni. established, undefined relationship. PUSSY RUBBING. fluids galore. just the tip. perv!joel. unspecified age gap. fingering. dirty talk. overstimulation. male masturbation. FEELS. Joel is a conflicted old man. reader is able bodied. no Ellie. w.c. 2.9k

an: i watched a porn clip and instantly went rabid thinking about jackson!joel.

-> follow up to a glimpse of heaven but it's not necessary to read the first part.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Like most of Jackson, the house you share with Joel is quiet and calm when night falls. Rain softly patters against the window as you lie in bed, wide awake. Another night of fruitless sleep under your belt.

You huff irritatedly, your hand collapsing against the mattress as you bitterly kick your bedspread onto the floor. Your oversized shirt clings to your body, your skin dewy from the exertion, and you're close to crying. Your limbs are wrought and overworked after hours of touching yourself with no orgasm to show for it.

Your hand won't cut it; it isn't enough. It can't reach all those sensitive spots that make you float among the stars.

Warmth pools in your abdomen as you think of one that's the perfect size.

A hazy hue of yellow light pours under your bedroom door as it spills from the room across the hall.

Joel.

It takes a long time to get to know someone, but they tend to meld with your soul once you do in one way or another.

From the start, Joel was intimidating. He was so frayed around the edges that you were afraid he'd completely unravel in the middle of your journey. He didn't seem to care for your company as the two of you traveled across the plains to Jackson, hesitation poisoning every fiber of your being, but you kept on with the strange man since no one else was willing to trek across the states. You desperately needed a new life, a fresh start away from the Boston QZ, and Jackson sounded like the perfect spot.

Over time, Joel opened up, conversing little by little as you drove for miles across the now barren US. Usually, after you had a close call with raiders or the lone gunman, he'd go silent, the weight of protecting someone other than himself sinking further into his soul, consuming that much further.

What you never expected was for him to be your first touch.

Sweltering tension slowly grew like a wildfire. Catching each other's curious stares, lingering fingers, and salacious banter until, one night, he slid a cautious hand into your panties. He claimed your untouched sex when you confessed over a roaring fire and a bottle of whiskey that you'd never been with another. His weathered hands were gentle as he sunk his fingers into your core, watching with rabid fascination as you came for the first time, gasping from his touch.

The following day, as he drove you across the interstate with the sun slowly rising, he made sure you knew that wouldn't happen again. "I'm much too old. Don't wanna waste your time with a mean ol' grump like me."

You didn't bring it up again.

One month after settling into Jackson, picking bedrooms, and deciding who would do which chores, Joel had his first taste of you.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

You chewed your dinner slowly in the modestly sized dining room across from Joel. You were so lost in thought that he was concerned enough to ask what was wrong.

"What does it mean when a man eats you out?" you naively pondered, causing him to choke on his veggies.

Joel had never looked so red before as he took a long drink of whiskey. You instantly apologized, explaining that you overheard a group of women conversing while you tended the communal garden.

He raised a hand, curbing your frantic rambles. "S'ok. Figured you'd be learnin' things. Just didn' think I'd be the one you'd ask."

"But I trust you."

His jaw twitched at your words.  

Later that night, Joel fell to his knees at the edge of your bed and tossed your legs over his broad shoulders. "Never tasted a pussy so sweet," he mumbled against your glistening folds as you ran your fingers through his graying curls. You came multiple times on his tongue, grinding his whiskered jaw while he hungrily lapped at your soaked folds like he was dying of thirst.

You didn't bring it up again.

It's warmer in Jackson now. The sun hangs longer in the sky. Snow boots and jackets are stowed away until the next freeze.

You slink from the warmth of your bed and pad sockless across the hall. Lightening flickers brightly under the starry sky. The night rain storm slowly whirls through the city, soaking everything in its path.

Joel's door is open. A soft smile tugs at your lips; it's his way of saying he's still up. He keeps it ajar while he reads before rolling onto his side and bidding goodnight to the world.

Three soft knocks alert Joel from the guitar-building manual he's currently reading. Dread clouds his mind for a moment, wondering why you'd be knocking on his door at this time of night, but he takes a deep breath and grounds himself in the softness of his bed.

"Yeah?" he calls out. His tone is rough around the edges after a long day on patrol.

You poke your head around the door with a timid smirk. He looks at you over his reading glasses before marking his spot and laying his book on the side table.

You don't say anything as you stride into his room. He notices your oversized shirt swaying at your knees before you climb into his bed and curl against his side like a cat. 

He drapes an arm around your shoulder, unconsciously pulling you closer.

"'Nother bad dream?" he questions with a low rumble.

You shake your head. "Can't sleep."

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his shoulder and feel him nod, understanding the endless struggle for a night of peaceful sleep. It's improved since moving to Jackson, but the dreams never end.

Silence fills the bedroom except for the soft pitter-patter of rain against the roof. Joel leans against the headboard, sighs through his nose, and lets his thoughts drift. He's content to sit with you in his arms for as long as possible, even if that makes him selfish.

He wonders if you hope to find someone to settle down with, someone less ridged and mentally maimed, someone less him.

The thought drives a stake through his heart.

He'd be crazy to say he didn't love being around you. Your laugh and lopsided smile took the first brick out of his impenetrable fortress when you spied a deer and her calf frolicking in an open field in Kansas. From then on, it became easier for him to let his walls down.

When you came to him with those big doe eyes and urges about wanting to know what it's like to be touched and desired, he gave in each time despite his reasoning.

He would masturbate each time after getting his hands on you, also thinking about the early days when he'd catch glimpses of you changing or the time he first saw you naked while showering at the YMCA. 

He's still trying to figure out what to make of you. Friends? Lovers? He certainly didn't mean to fall head over heels. Love had no place in his heart, but he'd be a fool to say he wasn't extremely fond of you.

"Can you make me feel good again?" your lithe voice broke the silence.

Joel stops breathing. Your question doused him like a cold bucket of water. He knew this would come back and haunt him.

His hand curls tight around your shoulder as he wrestles with the devil on his shoulder. "Told ya we shouldn't keep doin' this, Sweetheart," he reasons, trying not to break your heart.

"But I can't make myself feel as good as when you've done it. I've tried!" You whine, burying your face into his chest.

"S'not that I don't wanna," he admits, soothing your soft cries. "S'just, you're too precious to do that wit' someone like me."

You lift your head and brazenly brush your lips against the exposed skin of his collarbone, earning a low groan as he curls a large hand around the back of your neck. He tugs you away from his skin, your lips still forming a tight 'O', and pins you with a stern gaze.

"Joel, it hurts." Your watery eyes and trembling bottom lip are his downfall.

"Lay back, Sweetheart, and spread your legs," he orders with a husky tone.

You don't make a noise; too afraid he'll stop if you do. Your cunt beats against the gusset of your panties as you lay on your back, spreading and bending both legs at the knee, just like he taught you.

A warm breath fans down your face as he shifts down your body before kneeling between your legs and tracing teasing fingers over your covered mound. His nails lightly scratch along the worn cotton, making you suck in a frantic breath. He slips a practiced hand beneath the crotch of your panties and deftly explores your folds, gently rubbing small circles on your clit after wetting his fingers with the arousal that's pouring from your cunt.

"Oh, she's achin' real bad, huh?" he groans as your opening clenches beneath his wandering touch.

"Joel, please, I need-" You gasp, hips wantonly grinding against his hand, desperate for any type of friction.

The muscles in his jaw ache. It's only natural you'd be wanting more.

Before he thinks twice, Joel draws his cock out from his sweatpants. Your stomach cramps at the sight as it smacks against his belly; he's massive.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs like a solid, dangerous threat. It weeps from the dusky tip, shiny liquid dripping from the crown as he squeezes his hand around the girthy base peppered with dark gray, wiry hair.

"Got somethin' that'll make you feel good, sweet girl." he grits, tapping his cock against the covered crux of your pussy. It thwaps devastatingly against your clit, forcing a gasp from your lips as mind-numbing pleasure races up your spine and leaves you staring dumbly up at him.

"S'that what you need? Need my cock to keep 'er from achin so bad'?" his cock is searing as it lies in wait atop your panty-clad mound. You swear you can feel his blood pumping steadily into his shaft.

He cautiously thrusts his hips, sliding his length along your cotton-covered mound. Your slick arousal seeps thru the material, wetting the thin cotton and creating a sensuous touch as he glides along your cunt.

He shoves your shirt up over your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He licks his lips, "Such'a beauty."

Your cheeks flame at his words. Having such a man say things about you makes you lightheaded.

Joel groans as your panties practically are now see-through from your combined fluids staining the cotton, "Oh, baby." You whine at his pet name. "I got ya. Keep those legs open, just like I taught ya. S'good girl."

He keeps a steady pace, sawing back and forth over your extremely soaked mound. Your puffy pussy lips stick to the soaked cotton, leaving nothing to Joel's imagination. He glides easily along your slit, your juices smoothing his path until your arching your back and chanting his name like a prayer.

Watching you orgasm under his touch is enough to drive him wild. He throws all sense of logic out the window. He's okay with being selfish again.

"Let's get these off, yeah." He hooks two fingers under the elastic and slides your panties off before his words register in your euphoric haze. "Feel even better without 'em."

He swallows hard at the sight laid out before him. The sheets splay and curve around your naked body, making you look like an ethereal being sent to test his limits.

"Gonna give 'er a kiss, Sweetheart," his deep timbre vibrates your body as he draws close and touches the bulbous tip of his cock to your exposed folds. Blood rushes to your cunt instantly, bordering on the edge of pain. You cry out from the intense contact, and arousal slips freely down your crack as he traces his cockhead up and down your soaked slit.

"How's she feel?" He anchors his head, looking down at you from under his lashes.

"S'nice," you half whisper, half moan. The wanton bliss slowly consumes you the more he rubs against your sticky folds, keeping a hand locked around his girthy base, his crown glistening with your combined arousal.

Your eyes tear open, back arching like a bow, when he cants his hips and taps his cock square in the center of your cunt.

"M'not gonna fuck you, sweet girl, wanna keep you whole," he declares, holding true to his word despite the overwhelming need to claim you.

He can't be the one to sully you. "Ain' much left'a this world that's as sweet n' pure as you."

Your core quivers as his dusky, throbbing crown glides along your glistening seam. He tentatively explores uncharted areas, brows furrowed with concentration, fighting with inner demons who want to claim, corrupt, and mold you for only his touch.

His name leaves your lips with a mess of desperate, frustrated moans, "Please, Joel."

He snaps out of his haze. He's done almost everything he can to keep you safe and protected in this new way of life. He'll be damned if he doesn't grant you anything you ask for.

"S'hurtin' somethin' fierce, huh?" He grunts, angling his hips until his cock lines up with your fluttering hole. "Bet she needs somethin' big'er than fingers to ease 'er throbbin'."

His cock catches on your opening, forcing a hiss through his clenched teeth. As tight as you are, he can't stop from pushing into your warmth. He blocks out any sense of reasoning that's shouting from the back of his mind as he slowly nudges his cock into your weeping, inviting hole.

Joel goes brain-dumb momentarily, watching in immoral awe as your core ever so slowly swallows his fat tip and breaches your quivering hole, forcing a raspy whine from your throat.

So warm, safe, and wet.

Joel's never felt anything like you. He wants to bury himself, slide his cock as deep as he can, claim every inch, endlessly fill you with his cum, and keep you only for him.

You frantically reach for him, hands clutching the air as he rubs a callous thumb over your clit while keeping a steady hold on the base of his cock.

"S'all she's gonna get," he states, returning to his senses and hissing when your cunt tightens. "S'just the tip."

A soft begging whine bubbles from your lips as you extend your arms, needing something solid to hold before latching onto his wrists.

Your hips move on their own, desperate to feel his length completely shunted in your velvet warmth, but brute hands envelop your hips and pin them to the bed.

He shakes his head, salt and pepper curls fraying across his forehead. "Don' be greedy now." He tuts, narrowing his gaze down at you.

A garbled mess of nonsense tumbles from your lips as your fingernails dig into his muscular, hairy forearms.

"I know. S'big, huh?" He lands a solemn thumb on your clit, rubbing tender circles around the tiny bud. "Stay wit' me, sweet girl. Wanna feel you come on my cock."

Your mind spins. It's all too much, and yet, not enough. Your head tosses from side to side, and you're frantic to survive, breathing hard and fast, waiting for the drop to come and, at the same time, never wanting it to come.

"Don't I deserve it? Keepin' you safe all this time." Joel muses, stroking his cock in time with his teasing thumb. His eyes never leave where he's splitting you open. He's barely penetrating you, but it's enough to know if he had, you'd be struggling to take him.

"Come on, Sweetheart. Let go f'me," he urges, his touch growing faster. Severe, tightly drawn circles tease you closer to the edge.

Your stomach flips. A heaviness settles in your throat, your heart lodging in the tight confines, your blood pumping faster and faster. A lithe whine slithers free, escaping into the dimly lit room and burrows into Joel's mind.

His jaw clenches, and a dark growl rumbles from his chest, "Thatta' girl. Make'a fuckin' mess'a me."

Your dripping hole quivers and throbs around his swollen tip as you come with a silent scream, body locking taut, trying its best to engulf his length entirely.

Joel curses, jerking his length with long, steady tugs and rubbing his weeping, cream-covered tip around your soaked folds before his spine goes straight, and he yanks his cock from your core, curling in on himself and spilling his seed all over your belly with a deep, gravelly moan.

You sag into his sheets, spent with a shiny thin layer of dew and white ropes of spend painted across your abdomen.

"Shit." Joel curses, breathing heavily as he holds himself by his hands, which press into the mattress by your head, keeping you locked beneath him.

You hold his studious gaze. His dark eyes ruminate, tinged with mood, as his gaze drills down into your very core, threatening to demolish your soul. You resign that this was nothing special. Just another night you won't talk about again.  

Joel eases off of you with a grunt, his bones aching from the tension despite the brief, pleasurable relief, and tucks his cock back away into his sweatpants. He shuffles to the bathroom momentarily before returning with a damp washcloth.

He wipes the cloth over your belly and between your thighs, cleaning the combined arousal from your skin before chucking the rag into the hamper with a sigh.

"I know," you mutter, grimacing as you roll onto your side and sit up, tugging your shirt down. "I won't mention it again."

A solid, warm hand on your shoulder stops your retreat. "Stay," Joel whispers with soft, yearning eyes. "I wan' you to stay, sweet girl."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[midnightorchids]

Ok so I was thinking about this the other day. You know how Dick is usually a detective or a cop? Imagine Jason as a firefighter.

Mans will lift you like you’re nothing and I bet he’s in one of those firemen calendars.

I honestly think he would be amazing as a firefighter.

IM SCREAMING!! Here are some firefighter!Jason headcanons, I hope you like them!

- firefighter!Jason has a sleeve, his tattoos are all over the place, but they’re cohesive and very aesthetically pleasing

- he has a small calcifer (the little fire demon from howls moving castle) tattoo hidden somewhere on his arm

- he adores his job because he loves helping and protecting people

- he’s kinda cringey and he makes fire/heat puns and jokes when he’s on duty

- children LOVE him because he’s so kind

- he always volunteers to do tours of the fire station with kindergarten and middle school kids

- he hands out lollipops and stickers at the end of each tour

- he’s really strong and can lift anyone (regardless of their weight or height), he spends a lot of time training his body and is very proud of it

- he is low key a SLUT!!! let me elaborate: yk when firefighters wear their uniform only around their waist and legs, and the top half is like a normal shirt…? yeah so imagine that with Jason.

- he walks around the fire station wearing a black compression shirt and it’s hugging his body so deliciously. you can see bits of his silver chain sticking out and his tattoos are on display… he looks so HOT (noo im turning into cringey fire pun Jason…)

- when he first joined the force, he thought that saving cats and animals from trees wouldn’t be a common occurrence

- it was. and he took home two strays.

- he named them arson and sparks (shout out to the two cats i saw at the pet store)

- as much as Jason is a silly little guy, he also takes his job very seriously

- he spends time comforting victims and trying his best to make sure that they’re safe

- if there’s a house fire, he tries to save everything but definitely does prioritize items that could be sentimental or of value

- he never leaves candles burning for too long, same with irons and stoves

- he is very careful and constantly warning people about potential fires and the consequences of not being careful around hot objects

- okay let’s go back to silly

- this one time the guys at the station made a bet and the loser had to take pictures for a “hot firefighter” calendar… yeah… Jason lost…

- his shirtless pictures were plastered all over the station the next day and he wasn’t even embarrassed

- he’d just smile when people mentioned it

[jaredpadonlyyyy]

𝘼𝙇𝙊𝙉𝙀 𝙏𝙄𝙈𝙀

• 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏𝙏𝙔, 𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏 𝙉𝙊 𝙋𝙇𝙊𝙏

• 𝟭𝟴+ 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙀𝙎 𝘿𝙉𝙄 𝙄 𝙒𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝘾𝙆 𝙔𝙊𝙐

• 𝙐𝙉𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙏𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙀𝘿 𝙎𝙀𝙓 (𝘞𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴) 𝙁𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂, 𝙋 𝙄𝙉 𝙑, 𝘾𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙈𝙋𝙄𝙀, 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀 𝘿𝙄𝙍𝙏𝙔 𝙏𝘼𝙇𝙆, 𝙐𝙎𝙀 𝙊𝙁 𝙔/𝙉, 𝙈𝘼𝙇𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝘾𝙄𝙀𝙑𝙄𝙉𝙂, 𝙁𝙇𝙐𝙁𝙁

𝙏��𝙄𝙎 𝙄𝙎 𝙂𝙊𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙊 𝘽𝙀 𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈 𝙎𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙊𝙉 𝟳 𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈 𝙒𝙃𝙀𝙉 𝘿𝙀𝘼𝙉 𝙃𝘼𝘿 𝘼 𝘽𝙍𝙊𝙆𝙀𝙉 𝙇𝙀𝙂, 𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈 𝙁𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙀𝘿𝙂𝘼𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙇𝙀𝙑𝙄𝘼𝙏𝙃𝘼𝙉. 𝙀𝙉𝙅𝙊𝙔 𝘽𝙄𝙏𝘾𝙃𝙀𝙎!!!

• 🥝 • • • • 💚 • • • ✨ • • ✨ • • • 💚 • • • • 🥝 •

Y/N and the Winchester brothers had been at one of Rufus old cabins as they chilled back from the leviathan that had been hunting them. Dean had ended up with a broken leg. Y/N and Sam had ended up with bruises on their faces from fighting Edgar. It was crazy, Bobby’s house had been burnt down and they had thought they had lost Bobby in the fire, but they didn’t. Y/N slowly opened her eyes and she saw the TV was still on. She sat up from her boyfriend’s chest and didn’t see Sam nor Bobby. She got up and went to check and none of the hunters were around.

She sighed and walked back out to the living room and she saw that Dean was still asleep not having felt her get off his chest. Y/N and Dean haven’t had any alone time since Bobby’s house was burnt and they were being hunted. So, she smirked pulling off her shirt. She didn’t have a bra on because of the fact that they haven’t been out in a while. She leans down and her hand slides up his thigh and he started to shift at the feeling of something. He probably was Dreaming. Until he gasped wake as he felt a hand on his dick. He looked down and saw his smirking girl.

“What are you doing?” He sleepily chuckled at her. “I’m bored and I want to duck your dick.” She told him. The corner of his lip turned up as he looked at her unzipping his pants. He also saw that she didn’t have a shirt on either. She took out his Harding dick and she started to pump it. Dean lets out a soft moan, throwing his head back as he enjoyed her hand pumping his dick. “Fuck.” He Moaned as he felt her lips kiss the tip of his cock. Dean looked down at her as she looked up him as her mouth opened and took in his tip and swirled her tongue around the tip of his cock. Dean’s mouth was open in pure pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s so good.” Dean said letting out a loud groan as she took him all in. His hips buckled as his breathing started picking up as he looked at her as she bobbed her head up and down. Dean’s fingers reached through her hairs pushing her down more. She moaned sending vibrations throughout his body making him gasp as his cock twitched in her mouth.

Panting Dean pulled her away, her mouth making a popping noise as he brought her back up to him, his lips back on hers in a rough but passionate kiss. “Here sit on my lap and turn.” He told her, she got up taking off the rest of her clothes leaving her naked as she got on top of him her back on his clothed chest. He grabs both of her legs spreading them both open.

Y/N leans her head back closing her eyes as Dean’s hand caressed her body. His hands on her chest as he takes both of her nipples playing with them as her back arched, her pussy clenching over nothing as she felt the amazing sensation of him playing with her body in ways he knows she loved it. One of his hand reached down and slapped her swollen clit making her gasp loudly as the pad on his fingers got to work on drawing circles on her sensitive clit. “Oh, my god! Aah!” Her hips rolled as she went to grip at the couch her legs spreading more out as she moans

Dean’s fingers made it to her entrance and teased her tight pussy. “Dean, please.” She begged him as the tip of his finger slipped inside of her making her bite her lip, waiting for the moment his fingers slip inside of her. His thumb rubbing small slow circles on her clit as she moaned out. Deans dick twitching as he heard those beautiful moans come out of her that way. Then she lets out a loud moan and his middle finger slipped inside her tight pussy. “Oh god!” She moaned her back arching off the Winchesters body.

His hand going in and out of her his palm hitting her clit making her have more stimulation on it. “Fuck, oh Dean.” She moaned rolling her head to his neck as she moans into it, her hips rolling along with his fingers. Her legs shaking, her hands gripping on the couch as her toes point out as she gritted her teeth.

Dean slipped another finger, he enjoyed the way he was making her fall apart in his hands. The way she was moaning his name over and over again. The way her pussy clenched as her legs shook in undeniable pleasure. “Dean I’m about to cum! Oh I’m about to- fuck!” She gasped her mouth dropped open as her legs spreads more wide as they violently shook. Dean’s fingers kept going in and out of her as she forgot how to breathe, her back arching even more that Dean thought her back might break. “Aaah! God!!” She slumped as her walls still clenched on his fingers. Y/N looking up at the ceiling as she tried to catch her breath from holding it in from the intense orgasm she just had. Dean pulled out his fingers as she gasped because of how sensitive her clit had felt.

He brought his fingers to his mouth and hummed in pure delight at her taste. “Such a sweet pussy.” He said as his hand reached down slapping her sensitive pussy making her heavy lidded eyes shoot open from that. After she calmed down. She turned her naked body towards the hunter and gently kissed his lips. She puts both her leg on each side of his bare hips.

She could feel how hard the hunter was under her. She grinds her pussy on his long thick dick making the hunter groan as he felt how wet she was from her orgasm. His hands on her hips helping her grind her pussy on his hard dick. Y/N pulled away from the kiss and lifted herself slightly, she grabbed his thick cock and puts it on her entrance and slowly slides how as both hunters moan looking into each other’s eyes.

Y/N started to roll her hips slowly as Dean groaned at the feeling of how the tip of his dick was grazing your sweet spot. “Fuck, so tight for me?” He asked as she nods her head moaning out, his fingers going to her nipple toying with it making her throw her head back at the stimulation he was giving her nipple making her pussy flutter and his dick twitch at your sweet moans. “Fuck, Dean, you feel so good.” She said as Dean hugged her waist being her to his chest and started to thrust. “Aah! My god!” She gasped into his ear as Dean’s teeth gritted as he snapped his hips into hers at a fast pace making orgasm come nearer.

Her nails digs into his shoulders as she went up to kiss his lips in. Heated kiss. “Fuck! Faster!!” She yells at him. Dean hugged her tighter and slammed into her. His thick long cock hitting her in spots that made her into a mess. “Dean!! Aaah!” She moaned on his lips as she felt the coil in her stomach about to burst.

“I’m cumming! Oh my god! Fuck!” She gasped as she shook intensely gripping Deans dick making the man grunt as he kept on slamming into her to ride out her orgasm. His thrust becoming sloppy as his dick starts to twitch inside of her. “Fuuck!” Dean pulled her off as he came on his stomach shot after shot as he moaned loudly his eyes screwed shut as he cock throbbed. “Aargh!” He thrusted into the air letting out a satisfying sigh as he opened his eyes and looks at her. “I need this cast off.” He told her as she smiled

“Well, too bad Winchester, you have to wait.” She told him as her fingers traced his stomach up to his chest. “I can’t wait, I need to fuck you senseless.” He said making her pussy clench into nothing as he said that. The only thing holding him back was the cast.

Y/N smirked at him and grazed her fingers on his cock making it twitch. But before she could do anything at all. A horrified yell came from the door and there stood Sam with wide eyes making Y/N’s eyes widen in horror as she grabbed her shirt and covered her chest. “Sam, get out!” Dean told him.

Embarrassed Sam walked out letting Y/N get dressed and Dean groaned annoyed putting his hard cock inside his pants as he muttered cursed words at his little brother. She finished getting dressed and walked over to the door. “It’s okay to come in now.” He said as Sam walked inside not looking at her, but she could see how traumatized her looked from seeing his best friend and his brother both naked.

Everything out as she had a grip on his dick. Sam and Y/N were blushing so hard it actually made Dean laugh at how embarrassed they both looked.

And for the rest of the night, forgetting what had happened. The three hunters watched movies.

• 🥝 • • • • 💚 • • • ✨ • • ✨ • • • 💚 • • • • 🥝 •

I forgot I had this in my drafts lol. I have some requests that I need to get to! For those who made requests don’t worry I’m on it! But if y’all have more requests! Send them! I’ll get to them!

[biteyoubiteme]

bitten

beomgyu x fem!reader

synopsis: it’s been a century since the last youve seen him, why come back now?

warnings: 🔞!!! vampire!beomgyu, vampire!reader, mentions of blood, blood drinking, biting, angst, mentions of a break up,mentions of bite mark scars, a bit of soulmate trope, oral (f!rec), no protection,mentions of subspace, creampie, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 3.8k (now this flung the 2k limit out the window )

an: thank you for the request! I hope that this captured the essence of the request because vamp!gyu was consuming my thoughts after I read those lines. I love vampire fics and im so sad I don't have more on my page already and this was the perfect time to add one. not proofread im so sorry my sweet angel darlings have mercy on me and forgive me of any mistakes found.

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

The bar was dark enough to keep the bruised necks and wrists of the occasional lost traveler hidden. Spots of blood dripped onto crisp white shirts scenting the air in coppery sweetness. It was a sickening smell to those who didn't need to feed, the alcohol keeping the rest of the occupants held over enough to ignore the twinge. 

You didn't come to places like this often, the back room filled with half-drunk vampires and humans, desperately grasping at each other as they took from one another. Even the drinks didn't call to you, not when he wasn't standing there behind the bar passing them to you, constantly working his eyes up your body like a desperate plea to have even a taste. He hadn't been turned then, not when you first met. The pull towards you always accounted for the fact you were tainted with blood lust. A moth to a flame, he felt that pull, your hunger enough to send him right into the fire without even glancing at him. 

It wasn't often that a human found themselves offering their bodies up to vampires. Most of them felt the hair rise on the back of their necks, the prickling of fear telling them that whoever was standing just round the corner was a wolf in perfectly tailored sheeps clothing, how tight that human look held onto you after your change. The uncanny glow seeping that poisonous warning off in waves, a trap waiting for the truly reckless to trip. 

The ones who wandered closer instead of away always found themselves in the back of bars like this, bruised and hazy eyed laying in beds done up in silk and candlelight. Beomgyu, although working behind the bar for years knew never to offer himself up to the ones who sunk his stomach, that warning to run ringing in his ears as he slid a drink across the hardwood. But you, the second the door had pushed open and your skin washed in that low down glow, tripped him up; your waiting trap snapping shut around him like a rib cage around fluttering lungs. Even the echo of fading hoof beats on stone sounded so close to the beating of his heart that he couldn't tell the difference between flight and flush. 

But that had been years ago, so many that you couldn't even remember the shade of his irises. You remember they were brown, staring up at ceilings casing empty houses trying and failing to conger up the image. Well over a century's worth of time to hate yourself for forgetting the one thing that drew you in at first glance. But it wasn't as if you didn't try to work your way through the fading memories of him, all flickering by like the passing pages of a notebook you forgot you wrote and held so dearly. All you could see was that empty bed, the sugary taste of his blood still on your tongue, your breast still tender from where he bit you over your heart, so hard the soft outline of his teeth, like a stain you desperately wanted to rid yourself of. 

You had come here, back to this bar only three times after he had left to check in. That night with tears in your eyes, heart crumbling, the second taehyun had confessed that beomgyu was gone, packed up with only a shrugged goodbye. “He said he doesn't know when he will be back,” 

You had waited ten years to return the next time, so little time when you counted decades like snowflakes, not the glass shattering hail you assumed beomgyu would have still thought of as a recently turned fledgling. But no one had seen him, heard from him, hardly even thought of him. But he plagued you, ran around your head until you could taste the blood coming from overworked joints. 

The third time was no better, not when you entered and Taehyun shook his head, apologizing for a friend he wouldn't recognize anymore. 

You had given up, moved away, and swore to never think about beomgyu and his puppy stare. That follow you everywhere look that seeped into your bones and begged you to never turn away from him. Only now you were back, sitting in the far corner you fell in love, sinking into the leather seat wishing you could have that first glance back. 

Taehyun felt pity when he saw you, knew that you had been locked away in some house countries away, only sending in orders for blood long since cold. He poured you a glass, the same drink you asked for with tears in your eyes that first night back alone, chugging so many of them back he's sure your blood tasted of fire, too sour, burning all the way down one's throat. 

“Thank you,” neither of you wanted to bring Beomgyu up but he was the first thing on both of your minds. 

“He hasn't-” 

“I don't care,” you tossed back your drink, the ripples of mixed in blood making your fangs tingle, ready to push through soft gums and piece flesh not yet provided. It's why you came. Tired of the empty flavored pints of blood brought to you by Soobin and his sorry eyes. You hadn't put your mouth on anyone since that night, not even when it felt as if you had been scooped out with a spoon, carved open, and laid bare from hunger. If it wasn't him you would have nobody. 

But that declaration was a century ago, so many cold cups later it was tiring to swallow another. “I want a girl, preferably quiet, business only,” Taehyun nodded to your order, already knowing the best pick. 

“Room 615, she can be brought back in about thirty minutes,” there was no room for judgment, not after the years of working behind this counter, sneaking into those beds just like everyone else had. But he knew what it took from someone who hated to drink from a vein, it's why they had the services, those who couldn't go out and find someone or someones to keep up a constant full belly. 

But human blood wasn't the same as drinking from a vampire, humans went out too quickly, blinking back their faintness, never able to take more than a few deep pulls before they were at capacity. Feeding from vampires was anything but a rush, that first mouthful was a wash of exhilaration. It made one dependent on each other, one taste and it was never the same. Taehyun could tell Beomgyu and you drank from each other. Could see it in the years after, the way you turned your nose up even at the bitter drink in your glass. 

You would never feel full again unless you had him back. 

Thirty minutes was enough time to go home and call soobin for a late night order. But your hunger was clawing up your throat, nails on a chalkboard begging for anything else. Having the time to think, sitting here, filled your mouth with the memory of him. Not just the taste of his blood but the faint drum of his turned heartbeat. You still remember the sound his human heart made. The way it pattered at the sight of you, that irregular beat speeding up every time you sat down in front of him, entered through the cherrywood door. 

How even after you had turned him his heart still acted as if it was tied to your presence, fluttering weakly even if it was all it could muster. 

It was that sound that made you turn, conjured up from memory only now to show up right behind you. Taehyun was frozen, face pale at the sight of his lost friend. He had only seen him once or twice after he had been turned but now he was no half human fledgling. 

Beomgyu and you were caught in a web of your own disastrous weaving, stuck in place witnessing the crumbling of love because seeing him only settled the grievances you held into stone.

He wasn't hollow like you were, empty from the time left alone, the bloodlust having fully settled over his skin making him shine in that uncanny beauty. Everything about his gentle human features has been frozen in place, the warmth in his brown eyes only enhanced in the light. How sickening to have to now face the reality of what you had done to him, what he must have run from once he realized he couldn't truly love the monster who infected him. 

It wasn't the butterflies of newfound love but sickening maggots wriggling in your stomach. You stumbled as you stood, not even worrying about the key taehyun had left for you next to your drink, not even a meal could keep you from running as far as you could. 

It had been too long for him to come back when you had given up on trying to wait for him. How many nights had been spent waiting for this exact moment? Only now for you to run away. How cruel fate could be. 

He was calling your name, that twinge of hurt mixed in with something close to pity, every syllable weaved through with the words, no, don't do this, don't make me feel sorry. Even his voice made you waver, the back and forth shake of your head confusing you as you walked down the wrong hallway. 

Even through the doors, you could smell the blood from the occupants behind them, like overripe fruit left to sit on the counter, nothing smelled the same after one drop from him. And now with Beomgyu right behind you, weak heartbeat still mimicking that first sight, it was impossible not to pinpoint the smell of him. Wrapping around you like fog; a haze you tried desperately to claw your way out of but you knew it was no use. You had never felt so hungry until then, carved clean through with the need. 

“Please, let me explain,” he tried, grasping at straws. He didn't intend to see you first, only planned on catching up with Taehyun and apologizing for leaving him behind without answers. Save this conversation for when he built up the courage. “Please,” 

His fingertips only brushed your arm, the shock of it going right down to your toes. It was instinct to turn and slap his hand away, and even in your exasperated exhale, that first acknowledgment was enough to make Beomgyu weak again, as if he had ever been anything but when attached to you. “What is there to explain? You left, you left me there, alone in our bed,” 

“I-” The words were stuck in his mouth, hanging right at the edge of his tongue and yet all that came up was a frustrated laugh, “well did you miss me?” even just hearing his own words he could tell you would fume. 

“Did I mi- you left me! You fucking left me, if anything now I just hate you,” 

It was so easy to fall back into it with you, as if you had woken up alone a few days ago not centuries, “look what you did to me. What I've become, don't act as if you're so innocent in this, don't blame me for decisions we both made,” 

The words felt like a slap in the face. That night you had turned him so clear in your mind, the way he had begged, the way he had burned. It was one of the hardest things you had ever done, most vampires went their whole lifetime without infecting anyone because of how hard it was to complete and yet you had. 

“I turned you after you asked me. Do you know how much it takes? And then like some love-sick fool, I drank from you and every day I think about how stupid I was to believe you would stay. After I left behind everything I knew just so that I could have some human boy stay with me. How pathetic,” the last word was thick, sticking to your throat and pulling your tears forward. “You should go back to wherever you ran away to, climb into some feeders bed to keep warm for all I care,” 

You turned, ready to close the door on a life you wished you had. The one you begged for after nights spent alone clinging to the sheets that still smelled of him. But Beomgyu wouldn't have it, his grip tight on your wrist as he pulled you back, “It was never about changing me, I left because I wanted to know if it was real- that intensity was so…consuming, I was scared and so I ran. I ran and I looked for some way to replicate it because I'm a fucking fool who can't see right in front of himself. You made me addicted to you, I begged you to do this to me and yet I ran. Im sorry,” 

“You can say that but you stayed away so long I'm sure you found some poor soul to swallow down by the mouthful,” he could feel your resentment coiling around him, snapping back at his desperate attempt to explain. Because there was no way for him to get the words out, even after running them around his head for the years he had lost all because of his own fear. 

That night was stuck right behind his eyelids, replaying over and over. Your body pressed to his, soundlessly sleeping as he looked up at your shared canopy bed. Your blood was still singing through his body, staining his perception of life before you. He didn't know he could be so utterly infected by someone so much so that it colored his sky differently. Your soft breathing was enough to tear him apart, he wanted countless nights spent exactly like that one, just watching you, listening to you sleep. And it scared him. He thought humans had been over-emotional, feeling things as they came, wallowing in them because they had little time to let it spread out. But he was wrong, he hadn't known how full the world felt, how full he was after one drop of love from you. And now he was empty, starved clean from his own doing. “I was ashamed,” 

The confession was so quiet matching your question, “And now?” 

Beomgyu looked up from under his lashes, he was close enough now that your scent was suffocating him, begging him to give in and just sink his teeth right over your heart. Find the same place they had last been because no one had been able to tempt him to even pull his fangs down, not since you. “And now I'm starving,” 

Even just the word from his mouth made your fangs ache. You had been getting by on so little for so long. He was the only thing your body needed and you knew he must feel the same. Your mouth was filled with saliva, that venom that numbed prey or set them ablaze. You tried to swallow but you could already taste him, the movement of your throat making his eyes zero in on your pulse. You were no better watching his adam’s apple bob, connecting the dots on long since gone trails of hickeys you’d left before. 

Neither of you knew who moved first, moaning against lips you were sure you’d never kiss again. His sweet venom singing on your tongue. His hands were heavy on your body, pulling you closer as he pushed you against the hallway wall. He wanted to melt into you, his desperation crawling up his skin, hips keeping you in place. 

You chuckled into his mouth, the sound rattling in the back of his throat like a prayer he wanted to keep to himself. “You always did get hard from kissing,” his whimper in response is followed by the grind of his bulge against you. How fast his body reacted to your touch didn’t change when he did. 

His heart was picking up speed, your fingers running through his hair, the groves of your fingertips slotting back into place amongst the strands. Beomgyu’s fangs were already elongating, nipping your bottom lip. He had always felt so good about his self-control, accounting those early days of overfeeding on you for the simple fact of being so recently changed, he should have known you were the variable that cracked the hold he had on himself. It was only worse now that he'd nicked you enough to mix blood into the kiss, his throaty moan rumbling against your body, sinking into your soul. 

You're both stumbling to find a room, twisting knobs until you find an empty one. The silk bed envelops the both of you as you fall into it, peeling off layers of clothes. Beomgyu can smell your sweet arousal between your legs the second he's pushed them apart to kneel between. 

“Now look at this,” you can feel the pad of his thumb running over the bite mark scars he's left on your inner thigh, his grin wicked enough to make your knees twitch. “I wonder if your pretty cunt will remember me as well as your skin has,” 

“You're impossible to forget,” and when you expected him to bite you, following the pattern of his usual ravishing but he skipped it, shocking you with his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking deeply. 

His mouth is on a direct line to your spine, your back arching off the bed. His tongue is hot on you, tracing the lines of your folds, and moaning into your slick. He missed these desperate whines you let slip, the perfect backtrack to the messy slurping sounds he's started. You hadn't even realized how much you had missed his mouth, your fingers twisting into his hair the second he brushed a fang against your swollen bud. He loved to tease but it had been too long since you felt your orgasm rise so fast. 

Beomgyu was eating you like he missed your pussy, your stomach tightening, hips sinking into the sheets. It only takes a few more precise sucks with his puffy lips before your toes are curling, eyes rolling back as you cum for him. His chuckle vibrates against you before he pulls away, chin shining with your wetness. “I missed the taste of you,” 

He hasn't even tried to find someone else to take care of his needs, not when he knew no other cunt could compare to the way yours perfectly molded to him, sucking him in to the hilt. The memory alone is what had him rushing to get inside of you, cock already leaking rivets of precum. 

You've never felt so needy in your life, fangs and pussy aching for him. The drag of his tip from your clit to your weeping entrance makes your knees fall open. One of his hands guides himself to push into you and the other tenderly holds your hip in place. Your mouth drops open at the stretch, slow as he lets you take in the feeling, needing you to remember how full he kept you. 

Beomgyu whines, breath quickening as he shoves in the last few inches. He lets his body fall onto yours, needing to be closer, needing to drag his lips over your neck, teeth scratching at your pulse, “say it again, tell me how much you hate me,” 

But he knows you can hardly speak, your legs wrapping around him, arms pulling him down closer. “Shut up,” you gasp, his hips rolling against yours. 

“then beg me,” he doesn’t even have to say for what. Not when your neck is rolling back to give him better access to your vein, his lips brushing against your skin with each word. “If you don’t hate me, beg me to taste you. I know you remember how much I love to mix the flavor of your blood with your cum still in my mouth,”

As many times as he's crossed your mind, thinking about his fangs in your neck was something that would never compare to the moment they finally sunk in. You had never let anyone feed from you, not until he was there in front of you pleading. You were no better, not after you had changed him, needing to drain him of almost everything. But with one nod he was biting you. 

Beomgyu’s mouth was flooded with your blood, the familiar flavor of iron mixed with the undercurrent of sweet delicacy. He’d dream about the first bite, mouth tingling, fangs brought forward on nothing but the memory of you. Now he was ravenous, so shocked by his own hunger with its pounding fists on nailed shut doors. His hips stuttered in his thrusting, caught on the ecstasy of quenched starvation. 

You felt your mind slip into that hazy space, anything he asked would be answered, every action would be taken, and all you knew was him and him alone. To have that numbing venom injected into your bloodstream was enough to break even the strongest down into puddles of simmering whimpers. 

It was hard to pull away and keep himself from overfeeding like he wished he could. But he felt his orgasm cresting, stomach flexing as his balls tightened. Beomgyu shoved his wrist to your waiting lips, your fangs stinging as they pierced his weak flesh. You drank deeply, thick swallows of the ichor you had prayed to get back on your tongue.

Everything was crashing down around you, beomgyu groaning as you clenched around him, fluttering walls sucking him in as you came, taking everything he had to give. He was a mess of moans, clinging to you as if that could keep him grounded when he felt this good. Every slow shallow thrust only pushes his cum further into you, still being pulled from him with every pulse of your greedy pussy. 

Neither of you can believe how lost you had become, falling into each other like stars crashing into nothing but pooling darkness, so full of energy the only option was to collapse. And it's just what you did, twisting into each other's hold, beomgyu’s kisses pressed over the puncture marks he's made on you, nose brushing up and down your skin trying to keep your scent close. 

Breathing evening you fought back the worry settling in. He had left before, walked right out the door without you knowing anything wrong had been on his mind, what was keeping him from doing it all over again? 

“Stop thinking,” he muttered, mouth finding yours, mixing the flavors of your blood together as he kissed you. “I don't think I could find it in myself to ever leave again,” but he was pulling away, his playful smirk lingering on his lip cleansing your worrying mind if even for a movement. “How could I ever leave again after seeing how happy and full you are after only one round?” he pulled his still hard cock from you, the gush of cum slipping out, pooling on his ready fingers only to shove them right back into your waiting cunt. “No, nothing could keep me from this sight ever again,”

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @seungfl0wer @lunesdesire @chasingthatjjunie @no1likemybbgcharlie @beomiracles want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[coca-colas-truck-driver]

john didnt notice at first, and dean doesnt remember if that encouraged him to continue or not. sams pacifier had been lost in the fire, the baby scared and crying in dean’s arms as he held him while his father tried to explain what he saw to the firefighters. john had sounded like a blubbering mess of a man, sounded mad as he told them about how his wife had been pinned to the ceiling, her white night dress stained with her blood and guts. while dean craddled sam in his small arms, watched his baby brother’s face go from being wrinkled up in anguish to a soft and sweet expression of contentment at being offered dean’s own small thumb. dean had giggled, cooing at his younger brother like he’d done when tucking him in bed with mom.

itd continued after that night, john being too preoccupied, for the short time they still lived in that house, with staying up and doing rounds around the house. checking the salt lines around the doors and windows, and drawing symbols on the walls and floors to ward away whatever he could find a deterrent for.

dean doesnt remember those days well, remembers a few nights of staying up with his father while sammy slept cradled in his lap, stirring every time dean tried to take his thumb away.

by the time john realized, it was only a year or so later, muttering something about how its good he’s taking care of sam. it had made dean smile to himself, smoothing the chestnut hair.

but by the time sam was four, it wasnt as cute. john was starting to make comments about how sam wouldnt of even had a pacifier this long, furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes looking down at his eldest son as he told him to quit that “sissy” shit.

dean had stopped doing it where john could see, retreating to the dark shadows of the backseat of the impala, sam in the middle seat next to him with his head on dean’s shoulder. sam wouldnt be able to sleep even though he’d just been out like a light forty five minutes ago before john woke them up to leave, whispering under the loud rattle of music shaking from the speakers sam would tell dean “just till i fall asleep?”

dean would oblige, sneaking his hand around sam’s shoulders and nudging his thumb against his little brother’s mouth. sam would open, sucking softly at the rough pad of dean’s thumb. sam would be out in less than a minute, rocked to sleep by john speeding down an empty highway. dean would smile, wiping sam’s spit off on sam’s pajama shirt as his nose wrinkled up.

it continued well after sam started school, his baby brother nudging his chin against dean’s palm once they’ve laid down for the night in scratchy, stained sheets on top of a lumpy mattress. dean would make any kind noise that wouldn’t disturb their dad in the bed beside their’s, and sam would take it as affirmation. pink lips would wrap around the base of his thumb before sammy’s eyelids would flutter shut. he continued the practice of pulling his thumb away after sam fell asleep. the kid was getting older, and they should of quit it years ago. john already hadnt approved of the habit when sam’s mouth wasnt the only thing making puberty extra hard for dean.

by the time dean was sixteen, he was still letting sam suck on his thumb to go sleep. only now, sam would lay down on his stomach, cheek pressed against dean’s knee as the boy blinked up at him.

it was dean’s own fault, he’d offered sam his thumb when they were watching some cartoon and instead of taking a nap like dean thought he would have, sam had let dean practically hold his head up with his palm while he suckled on the calloused thumb.

dean offered sam the remote, carding his fingers through sam’s hair as his little brother propped himself up on his elbows to scroll through the channels. he picked some action movie, and dean chuckled as he took the remote back from sam when offered, setting it on the side table behind his head.

dean readjusted before sam settled back in, the back of his neck dug into the armrest of the couch, but he barely noticed as sam laid back between his legs, lips parting around a silent, contended sigh as dean slid his middle and ring finger in. sam wrapped his lips around the second knuckles, his tongue subconsciously tracing the seam between the two digits as his half-lidded eyes looked over to the television.

dean didnt pay attention to the explosions and repetitive sound of guns firing, focused on the way sam would occasionally readjust the way his mouth was sucking. he could see it as much as he could feel it, his soft pink tongue taking up too much room as he swallowed the spit that had collected in his mouth when he was in a daze before he’d blush a little more. dean would pet his hair occasionally, barely having to focus on not letting his blood rush south. it was like muscle memory at this point around his little brother.

sam would gnaw softly, barely paying attention, and dean would hiss every time his teeth dug in a little too much. sam would run his tongue over the base of his fingers, eyebrows drawn together in a silent apology. it made dean feel dirty, pulling his fingers out of his baby brother’s mouth as he wiped his fingers off on the shoulder of sam’s shirt. “lunch time, kiddo?”

[futureplayboibunnie]

lil Mafia Boss! Miguel O’Hara x fem! reader drabble

Warnings: NSFW, depics of violence, blood, some steamy stuff but not too much, sooo much dirtytalk.

You were many things. But you weren't naive.

That wouldn't be an issue if Miguel couldn't talk his way out of hell and right into those pearly gates. His manipulation and sweet talking were just another thing that made you hate him and attracted to him amongst many other things

He was an asshole. He was a powerful Mob Boss. He was your husband and your arch-nemesis. You both loved playing these little games that would send the other down a spiral of paranoia and obsession- it lit a fire under both of your asses. It made you meaner, sharper, stronger

Miguel told his men to take shots at you, haphazardly, making sure they all missed for the sole purpose of scaring you to make you behave and see how valuable his protection was . You weren’t scared, you were pissed and filled with rage. You blew up one of his lackey’s cars, he watched it burn in front of him, if he had gotten into the wrong black beauty of a Lamborghini, he’d be a pile of ashes.

You both poked and prodded, messed and obsessed with every step you made. It was like a Greek tragedy. You outsmarted him some days. He outsmarted you some days.

But after all of it, you were still married, still husband and wife. When he fell for you, he fell hard. You were the daughter of of one of the most renowned gangster in the country, Miguel had to pay his dues to earn his respect- and in the end it payed off. Your father blessed your marriage and that night was a dream above all dreams. The honeymoon was beautiful too, every night was filled with passionate and messy sex and every day he spent with you he fell more and more in love.

But Lord did you test his patience, it was something that you were born to do. He was angry and channelled his rage through many illegal mediums.

Yet you always let him back in.

-

You’ve been doing what you’ve been doing for the past few weeks.

Waiting up for Miguel.

Waiting for him to come home.

He said he had something to take care of and hasn’t shown his face since. And here you were, waiting for him like a Park Avenue trophy wife. Your wine was making you more anxious than tipsy as you glared at the clock, the fireplace in front of you not warming your body from this strange fear of a man you hate and love. It was nearing 1am.

Then you heard it, the door opening and closing and the rustling of expensive shoes hitting the marble of the foyer, then a jarring clank of keys hitting the holder.

Your breath got lost in your throat, eyes widening when you saw Miguel’s figure. His white shirt was bloodied and his fists were bruised and raw. It’s not his blood, but he did have a cut on his eyebrow. You scoffed as you stood up from your seat.

But that didn’t stop you from both charging at each other, wanting to see each other up close.

“I hate you.” You said with a scowl but what was it all for when you both embraced each other seconds after.

“I believe you.” He said coldly but he knew you meant it. Your head rested on his shoulder and he could smell the shampoo you used earlier tonight. A sweet orchard, green apple. Yet your sweet scent didn’t transfer to yout personality. You didn’t like to sit still and play house.

You were an antagonizing bitch.

He was a heartless bastard.

Yet here you were.

Hating each other, yet seeking each other’s company.

“I hate you.” You repeated much firmly this time and Miguel gripped onto your cheeks and pulled your face up so he could glare at you.

“I said I believe you…I haven’t believed anyone in a long time.” He muttered, but his tone was harsh. Unamused eyes searched yours for an answer but instead he found contempt and sadness.

“You left for weeks….I hated you every second of it.” You spat out but your words couldn’t be brutal when you were this sad.

Miguel’s grip on your face softened, the pads of his fingertips tracing on the outline of your chin. “Now that I’m back…do you still hate me?” He was asking with genuine concern for some reason.

“Yes.” You whispered but your legs started to tremble as the word rolled off of your tongue. Miguel frowned indignantly and huffed out, taking his turn to pivot the conversation to him just ordering you around again.

“I don’t want you leaving the penthouse. I don’t want you outside while I deal with these bastards-“

Your choked breath cut him off. “Is that all you’re thinking about right now? I can’t fucking believe you.” You scoffed, his gall was truly outstanding, of course he had to do this right now. You weren’t purposefully trying to fan the flames to Miguel’s anger but he wanted to treat it like you were, he was already annoyed for ruining one of his best shirts with the blood of subspecies and now he has to deal with you bitching and moaning…and not in the way he liked. “You know what Miguel-“ He directly stopped your words by gripping onto your waist and neck and sitting you on the dining table. You struggled against his hold but it all proved to be fruitless.

“You’re gawking at me like an idiot right now.” You insulted but he was way too far gone now, the crimson of his eyes migrated to a deep ring of burgundy- he was already pissed and you just had to play with him the wrong way.

“You’re beautiful that’s why.” He said endearingly, like he was cooing at you but his serious expression really contrasted that.

“You’re flattering me because you wanna fuck?”

“You asked me if you staying here is all I’m thinking about right now and in fact, it’s not.” Miguel placed a palm on your chest and pushed you flat onto the table, hard. Your eyes were half lidded weapons, scrutinising his every move- and dare he think, he loves it, because he always proves you wrong.

You were his wife, his bitch, his cumdump. You both may hate each other but you always needed each other in this way.

No one else could make you cum otherwise, no one else memorised your body like he did. How couldn’t he? He loved you…once.

You like to think these outbursts are impactful and grand displays of independence but no, you’re Miguel’s lover and you’re gonna act like it.

Hmm. You always looked so pretty in this silk robe, but the fact that your nipples were peaking already under the thin fabric told him all he needed to know.

“I was thinking of you today when I was killing my competition’s men, while I got blood on my hands.” Miguel’s calloused palms splayed onto your smooth legs, feeling up and down teasingly, riding up your robe. You arched against the table already.

Shit, you didn’t mean to.

“The others said that my mind was wandering. I could see their mouths open and close but I couldn’t hear a single word come out..” He said huskily, you gasped when he ripped open your robe, revealing your naked and beautiful figure under him. The only thing that could ever get him off. He dipped his head between your legs to were your thin barely there panties were, he ran his nose over the fabric and inhaled softly. “I could smell you.”

You blinked up at him in confusion, you didn’t know what to feel. You were mad but so aroused…and in the weeks he’s been gone you hadn’t been able to pleasure yourself at all. He looked vicious and mean, your husband was ruthless and sometimes….sometimes it was so fucking arousing, you couldn’t help but squirm and struggle underneath him.

“You wanna know what I did? You wanna know who the man you married is really like when he’s not at home?” His head raised up to your ear to mumble hotly, you jolted and struggled when his hand suddenly went to your already sticky folds.

You weren’t sure if you even had a choice, so you stayed silent, your expression akin to that of vacant displeasure….but oh, were you lying. Your face was about to break.

“I shot them in the kneecaps and beat them until they were barely breathing, but would you believe the way they died was by suffocation?” He chuckled lowly, his fingers teasing your already sloppy entrance.

“F-fuck…are you talking about?” You tried to fight back the moans collecting in the back of your throat but you couldn’t help it.

“They drowned in a puddle of their own blood and I put them there.” Miguel rasped firmly in your ear, his tone and body language becoming very intimidating and…scary. “The bastard’s blood got on my fucking shoes.”

Your husband only wanted to protect what was his. His fingers plunged inside of you, feeling up and down, circling around. You whined out.

“One of them I knew, he went to my fucking highschool hermosa. I called him my friend. But the worst thing occured to me, I imagined him on top of you, my wife, the woman that loathes me so. I saw him tasting you in my head and that’s what made me kill him. You. Just because you sit up here in this untouchable palace doesn’t mesn you’re any cleaner than I am. You’re just as depraved as I am.”

His eyes were beating with a scorching red, his lips were curled into a visicious snarl and at this moment, you knew he was right and that made you want him that much more.

You were his lover.

He wanted you to act like it.

Even if that meant being exactly like he was.

Heartless.

-

(I deleted my other mafia Miguel fic because I wasn’t sure if i was gonna make it a bigger fic or not and I felt like if i kept it up it would’ve been confusing or something? I’m playing on the same ideas in this fic dw)

[goosita]

I LOVE your writing I get so excited when you post! Could you write something about rivals taking Billy’s Girl and him going CRAZY till he gets her back? And then the comfort after that🥹

ooo ough oh my god he would go insane like i truly mean he would level an entire city for you if he had to

the moment he finds you in the back of the house, bound to a chair and gagged, his emotions begin a war inside of him. he’s so filled with rage that his hands shake and his teeth with ache in the morning from clenching them so hard. blood is splattered across his shirt, flecks drying on his cheek from the men he’d gunned down and fought just to get in here, and here you finally were.

he lost track of how many rounds he’d fired. all he knows is that he’d dropped several bodies. if he counted, he would realize he’d taken out the entire gang who had plotted to take you and hold you for ransom with the eventual goal to turn in the famous outlaw. there was no way in hell billy would ever let that happen; he’d lay his life down in a heartbeat to keep you safe and sound.

“baby,” he breathes, voice trembling. he rushes over and makes quick work of untying you, releasing the handkerchief tied around your mouth to keep you quiet.

“oh, baby i’m so sorry,” he murmurs, pulling you into his arms. he can feel you shaking like a leaf, but you hug him so tight he thinks his ribs might crack; not that he’d care anyway. “i should have been faster, i should have known sooner that you—“

“shhh, billy. i’m okay. i’m fine, you’re here,” you soothed, clinging to him. he can feel your fingers digging into his back hard enough to bruise. he hopes they do, honestly. he wants any mark you leave on him.

“m’gonna get you home, okay? never gonna let you out of my sight. never, you hear me?” he shrugs off his outer flannel shirt, dressing you in it and pulling you in again to press a long and lingering kiss to your forehead. billy keeps you tucked into his side, leading you to the front door.

“i need you to close your eyes, darlin’,” he says, stroking your hair. “don’t want you to see…any of this. okay?” he doesn’t want you to see any of the trail of gore he’s left. you’re too sweet, too innocent to ever be subjected to the sight of such violence.

you nod and squeeze your eyes shut, but as he leads you outside, the sharp metallic scent of blood hits your nose and you suddenly understand just why exactly he doesn’t want you to see. things had gotten very intense, you knew this. billy was a dangerous man. he had been since the day you met him, but it never bothered you. you weren’t even sure if it bothered you now, when he was so kind and gentle with you.

he helped you up onto his horse and climbed on behind you, slipping his arms around your waist and clicking his tongue to get the animal to turn and head the other direction. after a few minutes, you felt his nose nudge your shoulder.

“you still got those eyes closed?”

you nodded, leaning back into his chest even more.

“you can open ‘em now, pretty girl. nothing bad to see out here,” he promises, kissing your cheek. your eyes flutter open and the sky above is a deep navy blue, clouds just beginning to glow with the promise of a sunrise.

“never gonna let anything bad happen to you ever again, i promise. i’m so sorry,” he whispers. you shake your head and turn to glance up at him behind you. billy stops his horse and drops one of the reins, lifting his hand to hold your chin gently.

“it’s okay, billy. i’m okay. you got there just in time,” you assure him. your eyes scan his face, now noticing the dried blood in a splash pattern on billy’s jaw. the way his bright blue irises looked stormy still, the tension in his body still tight. his thumb caresses your bottom lip, his face softening.

he looked down at you for a long moment before dipping his head, resting his forehead against the back of your shoulder. your violent man, your outlaw, your gunslinger. william h. bonney, billy the kid, wasn’t afraid of anything. that’s what most people assumed; but he was terrified of anything happening to you, his sweet angel. his darling girl who kept him sane.

“billy?” you whispered. you felt him hum, his chest vibrating against your back. ��take me home.”

and so he did.

[motomamita]

eddie munson × fairy!reader

warnings: smut, +18, dubcon by reader, tighs fuck, fantasy creatures.

Influenced by the sunny and cool days in Hwakins, Eddie decided to go camping outside the town on his own. Serious mistake.

Without a compass and in the middle of the forest, Eddie was lost in the cold night. Things got even worse when, in complete darkness, he did not notice where he was stepping and fell down a small ravine, hitting his head and remaining unconscious for several hours.

Fairy!reader, who had been watching him for hours, tried to fight her instincts and not meddle with humans. However, her conscience would not be clear if she left Eddie unconscious and alone in the darkness of the forest.

Carefully, she managed to drag him to her small house inside the trunk of a large tree, a few meters from where he had fallen. She laid him down on her bed, covered him with some bushes, and began to clean his notable wounds. It was not the first time she saw a human, the forest used to be filled with hunters during certain seasons and many of them came to be relatively close to her territory. The difference was that she had never seen one so close, much less bringing him to her place, her refuge.

When Eddie's wounds were clean, she went to her small kitchen and started a small fire to make her herbal tea. Meanwhile, Eddie was still unconscious and unable to attack her if he wanted to. She approached him and looked at him carefully. She started with his face, his long eyelashes, his nose, the small acne scars on his skin and his pink lips. Curious, she touched that last part with her fingertips, surprised by how soft it was. Then she continued with his neck to his chest and watched as it rose with each of his breaths. Finally she reached his pants.

Within the world of fairies, men were scarce compared to women, and the few men that could be found were characterized by their extreme shyness. Fairy!reader had never had the opportunity to be with any man, neither fairies nor humans. At first she didn't care, she preferred to stay alone but calm in her small home, planting flowers and herbs, and communicating with the small animals that passed by. However, her curiosity, and need, began to grow as time went by. That led her to watch the hunters from afar, admiring their strong muscles and masculine aromas, so contrasting with the delicacy that characterized her species. She soon discovered that those hunters were not good people, because they only went to her forest to kill animals and destroy nature as if it belonged to them.

But Eddie, he didn't seem like that type. He just walked through the forest, collecting stones with strange shapes and taking polaroids of the most colorful flowers, without tearing them from their place. Even with his face unconscious, his expression looked serene and sweet. Equally or more charming than the fairies you've ever heard of.

Seeing him there, at her mercy was tempting. She knew the risks she was running by having him there, he could wake up at any moment and break her delicate wings. But hee curiosity was greater, so greater that she did not mind losing his life there.

Sh sat on hee bed and carefully she brought her hand to his belly, caressing it over his shirt and lowering her hand to his pants. Eddie remained unfazed and that encouraged her to go much further. She touched his crotch over his pants, curious to know if human men were at all similar to fairies. Eddie whined still unconscious at the touch. For a moment she thought about walking away and going to see the tea, but he raised his hips slightly in search of more. She continued to feel him over the fabric, noticing how his member slowly hardened and Eddie seemed even more restless in his unconsciousness.

Little by little she lowered his pants and underwear, exposing his member to her. The fairy observed in shock what was in front of her: Eddie's member was hard and erect, dripping small beads of precum and contracting slightly as if asking for her attention. A heat invaded her, something almost fierce and uncontrollable that she couldn't explain. Is this what it felt like to be in love?

She brought one of hee hands to Eddie's member, squeezing it slightly and noticing how more liquid came out of its pink tip. She moved her hand up and down in a slow rhythm, experimenting and observing his reactions. Eddie's hips moved in response to that agonizing rhythm, almost begging for her to increase the pace and help him reach his climax. That's how she did it, with greater confidence and noticing that he was asking her for something but she didn't know what.

"Yes... Keep it up... my love..." were the words that came out of Eddie's mouth, who was slowly beginning to wake up. His muscles began to tense, announcing the arrival of his orgasm.

She continued her movements, encouraged by Eddie's husky voice. As if it were a bucket of water, Eddie opened his eyes and noticed his surroundings in fear. That wasn't his house and he didn't even have a girlfriend who treated him the way they were doing at that moment. He quickly got up from the bed, not caring about ruining his orgasm, and covered himself as best he could with her underwear.

She jumped out of bed when he woke up and almost ran to one of the corners of her small room, keeping her distance so as not to scare Eddie more. He, with his rapid breathing, looked at her carefully, noticing her shiny wings and her peculiar way of dressing. He looked around, everything was made with natural things and the occasional object from civilization.

"Where I am?" He asked agitatedly, looking at the girl, who only smiled kindly at him.

"In my home." she answered obviously. "You fell and became unconscious. I rescued you and brought you here." Eddie touched his head and noticed a small bandage made of leaves, as well as scratches on his arms that were clean. Inevitably his gaze dropped to his painful erection covered by his underwear. "I just want to help." she murmured almost pleadingly.

Eddie observed her in greater detail, admiring every element that made that girl, or creature, something hypnotic for him. Her head decorated with bird feathers, her dress was made of small leaves of multiple colors that hugged her curves well and left her thighs exposed. Her wings moved slightly, continuing to release small flashes of light.

The simple image of that unknown fairy who had rescued him, cured him and sought to keep him alive excited him enormously. In his daily life he had never received the attention of the girls around him, and that supernatural beauty showed appreciation for him, an ordinary man. Eddie relaxed and decided to give himself completely to her. In short, if she had wanted to kill him, she would have done it before.

"You want to help me?" He asked receiving a nod of her head in response. "Come closer, little fairy.." Eddie undid his underwear and his member was exposed again. She approached him slowly, dazzling him with her natural beauty. "Give me your hand.."

She obeyed without hesitation and extended her hand to him. Eddie grabbed it and admired for a few seconds how delicate and small it was compared to his own. Then, he spit into her palm, wetting her skin with his warm saliva. Attentive to every movement, Eddie guided her to his member and made her resume her movements. He closed his eyes at the pleasurable sensation and cursed under his breath, enjoying the sensation.

"I'm going to cum soon- can I fuck your thighs? Please, please.." He begged, opening his eyes, looking at her tenderly. She, noticing his desperation, nodded without stopping moving her hands on his hard member.

Eddie, without waiting any longer, grabbed her hips and brought her close to him. His large, swollen cock fit perfectly between her thighs, giving him a warm, soft welcome. Desperately, he moved his hips, fucking her thighs and wetting them with his saliva. When he lowered his gaze, he met her bright eyes who seemed to be in some kind of tranquility, stunned by his actions. From his height, Eddie had a good view of her breasts while he felt her nipples harden against his clothing.

Eddie's cock moved in and out, rubbing against her pussy and giving her a sensation of ecstasy she had never felt before. He looked into her eyes, connecting glances and losing himself from his reality, concentrating only on his pleasure. He carefully hug her even more, taking care not to hurt her fragile wings and flooding her with her floral aroma.

Soon, his orgasm reached him and he had no choice but to allow himself to be invaded by it. With a loud moan, Eddie came, staining the fairy's thighs and pussy with his thick, white semen. She, noticing his agitated breathing, hugged him, bringing him even closer if he came close to her, offering him a series of support until his ecstasy subsided.

When they separated, Eddie lifted his pants, sat on the bed and soon noticed the mess he had left on her. He carefully took his bandana and cleaned the fairy's skin, who looked at him almost pleased with his detail. Then, both of them locked eyes and he was the first to speak.

"Thank you, little one." He said almost embarrassed by what just happened.

"It doesn't matter!" She responded with a sweet smile, almost as if everything before had not bothered her. "I'm glad I helped you." She combed his hair with hee hands and suddenly her wings tensed, letting a bit of glitter fall to the dirt floor. "I just remembered that I made you some tea! I don't want you to leave without being completely healthy!" she spoke to him with care and then walked to the small fire she had made.

Eddie looked at her from his spot and smiled tenderly. Maybe going camping alone wasn't a bad idea after all.

[lizzy019]

hi queen can u do something with ponyboy x reader where he has a nightmare and he ends up calling her and asking her to come over and as soon as she gets into the house by the window he gives her a huge hug and they end up cuddling on his bed 👁👅👁

AWW THIS IS SO CUTE! (use of Y/N, pls be aware)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🌿~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ah, he struggled.

Ponyboy was never able to get the picture of Johnny in that fire out of his head. It scared him, really. Especially now so because Johnny was gone. But you always knew how to take away those demons that clawed so viciously at him, you knew how to soothe the burn of the wound that refused to heal.

So when the night creeped up, Soda always had to try and assure Pony that sleep wasn't harmful to him. It was just a matter of accepting what happened to Johnny before the guilt started eating at him.

But tonight wasn't like what Ponyboy thought it'd be.

The flames of the church burned so bright, reds and oranges that threatened to blind his eyes. And you, standing oh so crisp within the fired, burning. Oh God, that scared him awake. With a shiver of his limbs and a panicked jolt of his back, he got up from the dark bedroom and trotted himself to where the telephone would be.

With swift, desperate fingers, he managed to dial your number as he awaited your voice in the other side of the line. He was nervous, worried. What if his dream was real? What if you weren't gonna answer him? What if-

"Who the fuck is this?" Your voice rang drowsily in his ear, and he sighed with relief.

"Y/N! Oh baby, can you come over? Had a nightmare 'bout you... please? I need you."

And over the phone, he heard the softest "be there soon" before the phone went silent and the beeps of an ended call signalled. He was practically heaving air, begging for you to hurry up in his head while he waited around the entrance of his house.

The silence was deafening. Deep, endless, echoing. His heart was pounding and it was the only sound he could properly hear. Until he heard rattling outside after what seemed to be eons. You. It had to be you.

So like lightning, he zoomed over to the door and opened it to see you just at the top step, and poor Pony looked like he just saw the ethereal heavens. You always looked so pretty, so perfect to him. But now? In his time of need? Good God, you looked like an angel on Earth's surface.

Desperately with a sob of your name, he rushed to pull you into just about the tightest hug you've probably ever received from him, your hands coming to lightly rub at his back in nonsensical patterns to ease his worries.

It worked for the most part, but he still sobbed so silently into you that you were sure something was absurdly wrong with him.

"Pony, what's wrong?" You asked benevolently, running your finger over the soft bone of his spine you could feel from underneath the polyester shirt he wore.

He only breathed heavily, melting into you as he slowly finished his sobs. It broke your heart, what had him so worked up?

"I– I thought I lost you like I lost Johnny... I saw you in the fires..." He managed to sputter out, too embarrassed to come out of his hiding within your arms as his fingers dug into your shirt.

The realization hit you instantly, and you were quick to try and reassure him that he was okay. That you were okay.

"You're huggin' me, ain't cha? I'm here, aren't I?" You were so gentle while asking him the questions, trying oh so hard to ease him back into a relatively calm state once again.

And soon enough, Ponyboy was tugging you back inside of his home and dragging you with him to the mattress. Thankfully Sodapop was out with Steve at some party, so you had room to nestle in and use your shared body heat to ease into the springy mattress.

The rest of the night was spent with soft sheepish kisses, loads of cuddles, and some much needed rest.

Ponyboy slept better when he was with you.

[tencrushesperday]

dont know if you take request or what not but i would die for a 7 minutes in heaven with mrempes. whole size kink and all just being trapped in a closet with him during a house party visibly knowing all the girls want him but he chooses you.

warnings : suggestive language (i guess?)

i think im better at writing angst and sad stuff (got a lot of experience to take inspo from lol)

“You”, Matt said pointed in your direction. You hated playing this game until he had picked you. He stood up from his armchair, the girl that was perched on the arm rest almost falling down but he paid her no mind. His eyes were set on you and it set your body on fire.

You grabbed the hand he was extending you to help lift yourself up from your spot on the couch and followed him to the closet. Who knew playing 7 minutes in heaven as adults would be this fun.

You had been a regular at the Lake House since your teenage years. Your parents owned a house down the street so when the Hughes boys would throw a party during the summer or go out on the lake you would attend and bring some new girls that were in town for the summer each year. You had also met their college friends and teammates throughout the years.

However this was the first year that Matt Rempe had come. You heard that Ethan Edwards, a friend of Luke’s had brought him along. You had made a mental note the first time you saw the guy to thank Edwards because boy was he something. Tall, big, a pile of muscle that could throw you around like a rag doll. Overall, your type.

He opened the door and let you into the closet first. A gentleman too. You gave him a smirk and went in. He followed and tried closing the door behind him but he was too big. He was mumbling apologies as he tried to close it again but failing.

You grab his shirt and pressed him to your body. The door closed now.

You had to crank your neck all the way up to look at him. Was that blush on his cheeks? It seemed he had looked at you with determination earlier but maybe you have misinterpreted his gaze.

“We can just talk if you want to.” he was avoiding your gaze.

“Oh don’t go all shy on me now big boy.” you said with a chuckle. His eyes drifted to you finally. His gaze was intense. You felt so small under it. And naked. Not like you were very dressed with just your bikini top and jean shorts.

Even those felt like too much when he was looking at you that way, towering over you.

His left hand slowly traveled from the uncomfortable position on the shelf behind you to your cheek. So he just needed encouragement. How sweet. “Are you always this cocky?” Amusement laced his voice which made your lip tug upward in turn.

“I’m worse usually”

His other hand moved to your hip, his touch burning hotter than the summer sun. His fingers spread on your back and he pulled you closer to him. “Is this okay?” his voice so low, you felt it in your core. You hummed in response. “Lost your voice already baby?”

To show him you were still in control, your other arm, that wasn’t grabbing his shirt, reached up to his neck and dragged him down. Your lips hovered over his, teasing. He wanted to take it slow? Why not make it as painful as possible.

He exhaled heavily then closed the distance between you two. The kiss was heated and heavy and his tongue slipped into your mouth right away.

Might as well make the best of the 7 minutes.

Your hand reached under his shirt, his toned abs feeling hard as rock. You were holding onto his waistband and eager to get to more exploring. His own hand traveled lower from your back then he nudged your thigh to jump.

Leaving your explorations for later, you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist. The very few times you pulled apart was to get into a better position in the small space.

The 7 minutes were coming to an end and you remembered where you were when you heard footsteps outside the door. You slid down from Matt’s grip. When your feet touched the ground, your legs were slightly wobbly from the state he had felt you in. Your head was spinning and you just knew you needed more of him.

“We are not done.” he whispered in your ear when the door opened. Your voice was failing you so you nodded.

You went back to your seat on the couch and were stealing glances to Matt until the end of the game. Once this game was done, you knew you were going to follow him into the nearest available room.

[jd-loves-fiction]

𝐎𝐩𝐢𝐚

n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable—their pupils glittering, bottomless and opaque—as if you were peering through a hole in the door of a house, able to tell that there’s someone standing there, but unable to tell if you’re looking in or looking out.

✦ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Sir Gawain x GN!Reader

✦ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut + fluff

✦ 𝐰𝐜: 2.2k

✦ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Minors DO NOT INTERACT thanks. also DONT USE SALIVA AS LUBE THIS IS THE MIDDLE AGES WAAAAHH

✦ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Anyway I havent written anything in a hot second, especially smut, so i might've lost my touch but this man makes me insane. Hope its still enjoyable anyway and im working on some fluffy stuff as well whoop enjoy :)

Stupid quest. Stupid forest. Stupid rainwater puddle.

You didn't see it – you were too damn busy staring into those gorgeous brown eyes of his, lashes lowered ever so slightly in a way so tender it might as well have been what knocked you over.

“Oh goodness.” Sir Gawain exhales a second after the splash, arms reaching for you a little too late. Turns out he’d been lost staring at you as well. “A-Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I–” You start to deny it but think better of it. It’s Gawain, he’d know the answer just from looking at you. “I’m cold. And wet. And tired.”

“I see. Let’s find ourselves a place for the night, yes? The storm from last night might be coming back.” He tells you, reaching out a large hand to pull you up. You take it without hesitation.

Quickly finding yourselves a damp and dingy little cave to pass the night in, Gawain gets to work starting a fire as you shiver uncontrollably. 

“You know–” He begins, fumbling with two rocks and a handful of dryish branches, looking up at you for a moment, “You look good, all soaking wet.”

The warmth of his gaze sweeps over your form, lingering on your shaking shoulders, passing by the water dripping off your linen shirt and how your arms curl around yourself to keep the heat in – heat he stokes with that cheeky look, the quickness of his breath, the biting of his lovely, soft, bottom lip…

A spark goes off, catching fire to the branches, cutting the tension like a hot knife over butter. But it does not dissipate, the fire does not cool, it merely wanes to a simmer.

“I bet you’d look even better.” You blurt out, just to get the last word in before sitting by the flames, not entirely aware of what you’ve just said and where his beautiful, hasty mind would take your words. Then again, you’re much more concerned with not freezing to death.

“Trying to warm up with wet clothes isn’t going to do you any good. It isn't going to do anything at all, really.”

“What do you suggest, then?” You sigh, knees tucked to your chest, sitting opposite the dashing young knight.

“You should take off whatever clothes are wet and let them dry by the fire.” He begins shrugging off his thick wooly cape to lay on the stone floor beside him, “And sit close to me – we can share body heat.” he adds on quickly, as if he hasn't made his intentions with you clear enough throughout this journey already.

You’re not sure when it started, when his dark eyes began wandering, when his touches started lingering, or even when you started doing the same. But it’s clear to the two of you; the want– the need too transparent to hide. 

There’s more to it though, for you at least. It would be almost too easy to dive into him otherwise. Like a nymph’s bewitching calls into murky waters.

But it could never be that easy. Not with the one they may one day call King. That and his womanizinging reputation.

Expecting anything other than a purely lustful encounter out of this would be foolish to say the least, but perhaps you are a fool. Because the way he looks at you; the way he has been looking at you since– whenever you started noticing; makes you feel as if there might be a chance. 

So you do as he suggests, stripping down to the basics under his unwavering gaze, shuffling over to his side and nuzzling against him.

Questions swirl endlessly within your mind while leaning on Gawain's warm body, his shirt so thin you could almost perfectly imagine what he'd look like without it in your mind's eye.

But then, those eyes, clear as spring water in their intentions, cage you in with their stare and suddenly you feel as if everything must be laid out plainly, “What are your intentions with me, Sir Gawain?”

The look on his face nearly makes you regret it, fearing you may have offended him, but surely he’s aware of his reputation – surely he must understand.

After a beat he exhales with a slight smile as his large hand comes around to your shoulder, “Are they not clear?”

“Clear as they may be, I like things to be absolutely transparent, especially when it comes to men of your… caliber.” He hums in acknowledgement with a smirk, before it slowly slides off his face, replaced with a thoughtful expression so rarely seen it could be possession.

“I understand what you mean, love. But, in truth, I cannot answer you as of yet.” At the inquisitive look you give him he begins trying to explain himself, “It is that… Well, I am to be King somewhat soon, I assume. So it would be reckless for me to act as carelessly as I once did. But then also, I do not yet know what my intentions are – beyond tonight, that is.” Your face warms slightly at his suggestive tone as his hand drifts down your naked back, “All I know, is that you intrigue me. Greatly. If anything, I know– I feel as if… once will not be enough…”

A dark hand of long, slender fingers lifts your chin to meet his fathomless stare, looking deep into your eyes and beyond that – to your vulnerable soul. 

“I feel… the same.” You speak, suddenly breathless as your face nears his subconsciously, giving in to his siren call.

Lips meeting like a spark to a fire, a beginning. His hands wander over you, reverent, gentle, as yours grasp at the front of his tunic, urging him as close as humanly possible – as if close isn't nearly close enough.

The kiss grows fiercer, a push and pull of soft pink muscles attempting to gain control, before being forced to part, open around heaving breaths while eyes grow hazy with lust– no, yearning. Gawain draws back to shed that bothersome tunic before his hands attach themselves to your hips to pull you onto his lap. The ease with which he does it has you grinding down instantly, hands running over sweat-slick caramel skin.

His dark curls bounce as he tosses his head back under your movements, desperate for some control of the primal urges suddenly overloading his brain – to fuck you without mercy, to ruin you for anyone else – but no, that’s not how he wants this to go.

“God above, you're beautiful.” He breathes, hands stilling your hips to let his eyes sweep over your features slowly. The intensity of his gaze makes you squirm and the strength in his hands warms your inside more than the fire ever could. 

Burying your face in his gorgeous, exposed neck you speak so low not even God could hear, “Shut up and take your pants off.”

You feel him smile against your hair, laying a kiss against it before drawing away to do as you ask, somewhat clumsily, but earnestly all the same. Sitting still on his cloak, you watch him avidly, eyes catching on every new inch of dawn-hued skin revealed.

The singularity of the moment strikes you suddenly; back at the castle, amongst duties and expectations, this would never be possible – this calm, this undemanding rhythm. You have no place to be, no one to meet, so you can just be. Together.

“Where did you go?” He whispers, caressing your face with a softness undeserving of a knight’s strength, making your eyes focus back on his features and immediately surge forward to connect your lips to his, “Nowhere important.”

Gentle as a breeze Gawain lays you back, body between your legs and arms beside your shoulders. His prominent nose brushes yours softly, sensually as he parts your legs even further, “Good. I want you here with me. For this will not be a moment you’ll want to ever forget.”

“Oh,” You chuckle teasingly, back arching almost subconsciously against his warm, wide chest while his hips start moving against yours, “You’re sure of that, are you?”

“Your reaction tells me all I need to be sure.” He replies, so cocksure you’re suddenly reminded of who he’d been before the Green Knight had showed up proposing a ridiculous game – knowing he hasn't changed completely is oddly comforting.

“You talk too much… Sir.” You grumble in lieu of remaining silent and further inflating his ego, getting a raised brow at the tacked-on title.

“But you like it, don't you? Don't lie to me, it's unbecoming.” The corners of his lovely lips twitching with the effort not to laugh. Quick as a flash, your legs lock around his waist, pulling his center down to yours and he’s forced to take a breath from between his teeth as his long lashes flutter, “Like I said; you talk too much.”

Gawain bites his tongue – there will be plenty of time to get back at you once you’re mindless and thoroughly spent – he reasons. For now, he just needs to get you there.

One large hand settles at the base of your throat as his luscious lips travel down your neck in flickers of contact that have you arching against his firm grip for more. Soft as a feather, he pulls away your undergarments as needed to kiss at your chest; sweetly at first and then so wet and sloppy you’re left gasping and whimpering, hands grasping at his strong shoulders for purchase.

Grabbing you below the knees, he gently pries your legs open while kissing down your body until you're tingling and trembling all over wishing he'd just get to it.

“Gawain…”

“Hmm? Are you going to beg? Go on.”

You pout petulantly; no you won't beg, he'd enjoy that far too much. But you can, however, tempt him into doing what you want.

“Gawain…” you moan seemingly helplessly, nails brushing his skin making him shiver in delight, “won't you take me? It's clear you want to.”

“It's clear, is it?” He chuckles breathlessly, ceasing completely to just watch you and it makes you want to smack the back of his head in frustration.

Breathing deep, your eyes move over him carefully, appreciating every inch of delicious, exposed skin so many yearn to catch a glimpse of before…

“Gawain,” you raise an amused brow, surely he noticed… “Yes?”

Oh, he's far too good at playing dumb.

You raise yourself until your lips barely brush his, brown hues watching you closely down the length of his nose before your hand boldly presses down on his stiff cock and those eyes glaze over before rolling back in overwhelming delight, “I'd call this pretty obvious.”

Hand squeezing in pulses, you're granted a low groan followed by a deep sigh, “God, you're too much. I cannot– wait.”

Gawain's mouth devours yours, hungry as a wolf, pushing down once more while his lithe fingers graze the inside of your thighs, grinning at what he finds. Cheeks warming at how your mouth chases his as he pulls back, he gives his palm a full lick before wrapping it around his throbbing cock and stroking. The flames illuminate this length of his gorgeous neck like an old painting and your tongue longs to glide over it and follow the path of his sweat so deeply you almost miss him speaking, “Will you beg now?”

You groan most crudely, far over his games and his perfect face and his disarming voice and his damned haughtiness– your hand grasps the curls at the back of his head, delighting in his whimpered response, “Take me now or so help me–,” your not proud of the way your voice wavers but you’re both past that now.

Gawain’s lips connect with yours surprisingly softly, leaning his forehead against yours and lining himself up with your center, “Shh, I’ve got you, just relax.”

A kiss to your hairline is the only warning you get before he starts pushing into you, slow as can be and yet still you cry out at the feeling in between the kisses he places to your lips to offer some comfort.

“There we go, breathe for me. It’ll feel better soon…”

“Gawain…” You moan, clinging onto him as the bite of initial pain melts into pleasure.

Sucking on your neck, his hips sway against yours rhythmically, wavering only when your nails dig into his sides while moaning desperately in his ear, “Gawain please…”

“Now–” his breathing stutters while his hips buck suddenly, pressing a collection of whispered curses from both of your mouths, “Now you beg?”

“Just please fuck me, please.”

The way his cock twitches inside you tells all you need to know on how he feels about your words.

Curls brush the side of your neck as he reaches to bite at your lobe, grunting and moaning into it while speeding up his hips so much your own moans become stuttered and desperate.

As the end nears, Gawain presses his lips to yours, nearly missing in his eagerness, and opens his mouth as if to say something but no words leave him, only a loud moan of your name ringing across the cave just as your body does the same.

Your mind is eerily quiet as you come down, blinking eyes you don't recall closing and feeling the next king breathe against your naked chest while gathering himself. After a moment he raises himself on shaky arms to gaze down at you, hand reaching to brush a stray hair from your cheek and sighing as if suddenly, all is right in the world.

[neobubz]

Hunter (M) - Prey Sequel

this is the sequel to my story prey (m) if you haven’t read that please stop and go read that one first before continuing. for those who have, thanks for taking a look at the sequel! i truly hope you enjoy this wicked little story. this is of course like the other one going to jump back and forth between time frames so please be aware of that. once again, i hope you enjoy and i hope to see you in my future stories 💜

Word Count: approx. 26.7k

Paining: fem reader x jaemin feat. jeno and haechan

Warning(s): time jumping (past and present will be divided by a header don’t worry), mature audiences only, explicit language, crime drama, crime solving, psychological thriller, house fire, very slow burn, storytelling, m*rder, spouts of anger (ch*king), sex, smut, abusive relationship, a long ass story ^^

Disclaimer: though it doesn't need to be said, this is just a story. i do not know any of the parties involved, don't take this sh*t seriously. also, as i am not one familiar with crime/court proceedings/durations of time involving solving a crime/police business some of this information (if this is your job) will be wrong. i tried my best with the dozens of crime dramas i watch XP

Preview:

“Depends on what you tell me here.”

“Do they really think that I would do something as deliberate as to set my home on fire with my child and I barely escaping it unscathed?! What kind of lunacy are they snorting down at your precinct?!”

“I know you would do anything to protect your kid. We all know that but my boss doesn't. So I need you to tell me EVERYTHING. The events leading up to the fire and what happened afterwards. I need to know it all and DO NOT leave anything out.”

Gulping your head slowly turns to Haechan. “Exactly how much of everything do you need to know?”

Holding up his work phone he shows you the voice recording app. Turning your head away he says, “everything.” 

ⓗ ⓤ ⓝ ⓣ ⓔ ⓡ

Staring blankly ahead of you not even bothered by the flashing red and blue lights you watch as men and women bolt towards a fiery beast. This couldn’t be…this wasn’t supposed to happen. And yet it was…

One by one they line up and spray water on this creature trying to tame it — an opening is created and another group rushes inside their silhouettes getting lost in the smoke that pours out of every opening. They were looking for any survivors, or rather one survivor.

Glued tightly in your arms your sons’ whales bring you back to him. Your white button down shirt soaked through from his tears. Wrapping him tighter in your arms you shield him away from the unfortunate event befalling your family. His face buried in your chest he repeats ‘mommy…mommy…mommy…’

If it wasn’t from the shock of everything you  know tears would cascade down your cheeks uncontrollably as are his. Nothing went the way it should have today... There shouldn't have been an accident … this wasn’t supposed to happen… 

The brave souls who tried to tame the beast run away coughing and falling to the ground. Their teammates rush to pull them away before they’re snatched by the beasts’ flames. Inside was far too hot for anyone to withstand for long periods of time. A man giving orders tries to get his team to spray water straight ahead to allow yet another team to enter, but just as a new round of men and women prepare to go inside another massive explosion sends those closest flying back and all others to duck.

Your sons’ cries become louder. Turning away tears finally fall onto the top of your son's head. Your home, the place you’ve lived together with your child for the past seven years, gone. All the memories of his first moments…destroyed. 

“Ma’am… Ma’am!!!” A voice says next to you. “MA’AM!!!!!” They scream startling you. A woman dressed in a paramedics uniform holds her hands out in front of you. “Ma’am, I’m sorry that I startled you but I need to check you and your son for injuries.” She says calmly.

“W-We-We’re fine…” you say but your voice cracks.

“I need to make sure, please,” she gestures to an ambulance that sits a few feet away from where you’re standing.

Looking down at your son, you see a few scratches on his cheek. “O-Okay…”

Leading you away from the firefighters who are desperately trying to get the raging fire under control, you and your son are placed inside the ambulance while two paramedics look both of you over for any type of injury. Your mind drifts away from what the female paramedic is doing, eyes laser focused on the entrance to your home. Your jaw tightens as bile threatens to erupt from within you. You jackass…why did you let this happen?!

“Ma’am,” the female paramedic calls you to attention. “You have a pretty nasty burn on your arm. I don’t think it’s severe but you should still get it looked at.”

Glancing down at your fiery skin you turn to where your son is being fully examined inside of the ambulance. “And my son?” 

“He’s alright ma’am,” the other paramedic smiles happily. “Isn’t that right buddy?” He asks your son who doesn’t speak.

“I’m sorry,” your voice comes out weak and tired. “He’s a little shy around strangers.”

“There’s no need to apologize. What the two of you went through – ” the male paramedic stops speaking, his head lowering to the floor of the ambulance.

“My daddy…Where’s my daddy?”

You freeze at the word daddy. Turning to the paramedics they both give each other unreadable looks.

“Ummm, we’ll go and find out right now. Don’t worry little man,” the male paramedic says before hoping out of the ambulance. “We’ll be right back.” He nods down at you.

Watching them like a hawk they walk over to who you assume is the fire chief. He at first waves them off aggressively. His eyes cold as ice. He appeared to not want to be bothered as he focuses on keeping his team safe. The paramedics, however, don’t leave. Instead the male paramedic steps forward whispering something in the fire chiefs’ ears. Immediately, his head turns to you. The coldness in his eyes vanishes the moment his fall to yours. Instead his eyes show sadness or pity — you can’t quite tell at this distance. Turning back rather rigidly he says something before waving the paramedics off. Moments later both of the paramedics start their trek back to you and your son, but as they get closer there is an eeriness surrounding them.

“The fire chief said he’ll be over to talk to you personally in just a minute. They’re still trying to get everything under control. Also, there were a few firefighters inside when the explosion happened so —” the female paramedic starts. 

“Th-There are people inside?!” You interject. 

“Don’t worry ma’am, he said that they are the best of the best. They’re okay and looking for a safe way out. So it’s best to focus on yourself and your son right now, okay?”

“When will they get out? They need to get out before another explosion happens! Good lord!!!” You start crying uncontrollably. “How in the world did this happen?”

“Mom…my…” your son whispers beside you before clambering in your arms again, “don’t worry… daddy will be okay…” he tries to soothe you but your tears come out faster than before.

ⓗ  ⓤ  ⓝ  ⓣ  ⓔ  ⓡ

Standing before you gleaming from ear to ear is the man who has single-handedly fucked up your entire world. His brown hair slicked back, eyes sparkling with promise and unfortunately, admiration – he wears a black suit jacket, white button shirt, black tie and black trousers. You, a white wedding dress…

How did this happen? How could your life get twist turned upside down like this? Just a year ago you were in your own apartment climbing up the corporate ladder and now you’re about to get…

“Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The judge asks you.

Lawfully, the small sliver of who you once were snickers at the word. If only the judge before you knew what hell you’ve been through. If she knew what this piece of shit did she would arrest him on the spot and open up a whole investigation! 

Taking in a deep inhale, you close your eyes savoring the last moments of your freedom.

If only she knew… if only you could tell her, to give her a hint that the union she was about to officiate is a fraud, but you can’t…

Gripping your hands tightly the man you’re supposed to be in love with smiles his repulsive cheshire-like smile as he awaits to hear those faithful words ‘I do.’ Exhaling once more you do what’s best for you and your child that is currently kicking up a storm inside of you. Either telling you to marry the ass hat in front of you or trying to knock some sense into you and blurt out what you desperately want to say to everyone around. 

“I do.” You speak but your voice is broken and flat. 

You fall prey to the pressure of what would happen if you did reveal everything. The twisted web of lies this snake may whisper to others — it was too much of a risk. You can’t risk anything, not in your current state. 

“Well, if there are no objections,” the judge pauses for a second.

Objections? Why would there be any objections? This fox waited for the perfect opportunity to have this sham of a wedding. Your parents who are currently in a luxurious cabin in their mountain getaway for the next four days – that was so lovingly paid for by the demon in front of you. This little trip is sadly your own dumbass fault. You foolishly let it slip one night that your parents like to travel and remember why they decided to spend the rest of their lives together – away from you, away from distractions, where they can be with each other and remember all the years filled with memories. And of course, the devil used this information against you…

“No objections here!” Your mom shouts a glass of wine in hand via zoom call.

Glancing to the people around you, a group of men whom you’ve never seen before, your actual witnesses to this horrible union — all eyes are bright and happy for the two of you, all except one. Their eyes pierce through your soul as if they can read every thought, every movement of your body. Quickly, before he notices something he shouldn’t, you avert your eyes and focus instead on the hem of your dress as the judge looks around and gives everyone a chance to speak up.

“Well, if there are no objections, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

As if you were in some twisted romance movie, Jaemin eagerly leans in. His hands cupping your cheeks ever so gently, he places his lips against yours. His lips are glossy and soft while your painted red lips are stiff as a board. Like hell you were going to kiss him! You played your part. You weren’t going to give him anything more than the bare minimum. But that didn’t stop him at all. His one hand, closest to the judge, drops to your waist as he pulls you to him. The room erupts with cheers and applause from his guests and your parents. Tears prickle at your waterline, the last hope of freedom leaving you as your tears fall to the floor. 

“Congratulations!” Your parents shout.

Putting on your mask you smile gleefully at the screen. “Thank you mom and dad,” your lips quiver for a second. “S-Sorry you couldn’t be here.”

“We are too!” Your mom wipes her eyes. “We need to get together the moment we’re back in town.”

“Of course! A celebratory dinner,” Jaemin wraps his arm around your waist. “Plus, I know my beloved wife will want to talk to her mom about the nursery.”

“Ahhh!!! I can’t wait to get back! We’ll go shopping and help you two set everything up, won’t we honey?” She turns to your dad.

“Of course! Cheers my boy! May nothing but blessings fall upon you both.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Your parents end the zoom call by stating they’ll call later but to enjoy the rest of the day and have fun. As your parents say their goodbyes, Jaemin's guests swarm the two of you. 

“Dude! You did it!”

“Didn’t think you’d be the one to marry first but congrats!” 

“How does your mom feel about this one?” Another glances at you. “On second thought, fuck’em, you’re gorgeous!” He swoops down giving you a hug. “Welcome to the family!” 

“Hey! Hands off my wife,” Jaemin jokes.

“Hands off his wife and future baby,” a soft voice catches your attention. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Jeno.”

“Baby!” Jaemin wraps his arm around Jeno’s shoulders, a huge smile on his face, the same smile that captivated you when you first saw it. “This is my best friend, Jeno! Jeno, this is my beautiful wife! Told you she was gorgeous!”

Nodding and smiling Jeno keeps his lips pressed together tightly before speaking. “You did, you did.”

“Come on! We need to celebrate!” Getting behind you a shorter and rather petite young man smiles sweetly. “I’m Renjun, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Now, I know this is going to seem weird but I need to put this blindfold on you.”

“N-No!!!” You squeak and try to move away but strong arms keep you from going anywhere.

“It’s okay.” Jeno chuckles. “Just a small, very small party we put together to surprise you guys. I promise nothing will happen. See,” he gestures with his chin towards Jaemin who is already blindfolded. “Everything’s fine. I promise.”

As you look into Jeno’s eyes your rapidly beating heart starts to calm down. There’s something about his gaze that makes it seem like it’s okay to believe him. That it’s okay to put your faith and trust in him. Then again, you fell for that trap before too.

“I can put it on myself.” You state bluntly.

“Independent woman, I like her already. Hey toots! The names Haechan! How this guy ended up with a beauty like you is beyond me, but once you’re done with him come and find me!” He winks.

“Really, Haechan? They just got married!” Shoving him aside a rather nervous yet charming man reaches out his hand. “I’m Mark.”

Shaking his hand you then slide the blindfold over your eyes. Hands grip your shoulders as a soft and soothing voice fills your head. 

“The rest of the introductions will have to wait, but if you’ll just keep your hand in mine I’ll safely lead you out to the car.” Jeno whispers. 

“Why exactly do we need the blindfolds again? Isn’t the party at our house?” Jaemin chuckles.

“Who said it was at your house?” Haechan’s voice booms next to you. “Renjun, Mark, get Chatty Cathy out of here. Jeno and I will handle his beloved bride.”

“Princess!!! Don’t worry you’re in safe hands!” Jaemin shouts his voice getting farther away as he continues to speak. “Haechan don’t you dare touch her or this nice judge will have to charge me for murder!”

Giggling behind you the judge speaks up. “Have a wonderful day you two and congratulations!!! But please, no murdering anyone!!!!”

Strong hands intertwine with yours, their hand warm and comforting. “Okay, start walking forward.”

ⓗ  ⓤ  ⓝ  ⓣ  ⓔ  ⓡ

Through a crowd of first responders you hear your name. Turning to the voice you see Jeno thrashing his way through trying to get to you and your son.

"Jeno..." you whisper. "JE-JENO!!!!" You scream for him to find where you are.

“Will you move?!" He shouts at a few firefighters. "I know the people of this home! Move!!!" With one final shove he bursts through the barricade they tried to make and sprints to you. Engulfing you in his arms he holds you tightly. “Are you okay? When I saw the news I came right away.” Pulling back just enough to inspect you, he cups your face in his hands. “What the hell happened? Did you get hurt? What did they say?" He checks your face for any injuries.

"Jeno,” you start sniffling. “I don’t… I don’t know what happened. It just…it just…”

Pulling you back to him he holds you in his arms. “Don’t worry, everything's going to be okay now. Is everyone safe?” 

Nodding you step aside so he has a view of his nephew who is still sitting inside of the ambulance. “Little man!"  He shouts, grabbing your sons’ attention. 

“Uncle Jeno,” he starts to cry again. 

“Hey Buddy!” He scoops him up into his arms. Your son’s tears keep pouring down his cheeks just as yours start up again. “There…there…everything's going to be okay."

"Da-Daddy..." he mumbles through his tears. "Daddy was..." he cries more.

Turning slowly to you Jeno’s eyes widen with shock. "Where is Jaemin?"

Covering your mouth you shake your head. "He-He...He…” you can’t bring yourself to utter the words. 

Everything happened so fast. One second the three of you were in the kitchen the next you’re outside with your son taking cover before the house went up in flames. It just doesn’t make any sense…

“Where…is Jaemin?” Jeno asks again.

“He was still inside when the house went up in flames,” you start choking on your tears.

"Mommy got hurt," your son points to your arm. "She saved me!"

Staring down at your arm, Jeno’s grip on your son tightens. "Of course she would," he smiles at him. "She would do anything to make sure you're safe."

"Is that so?" A gruff voice pulls everyone’s attention. "Would you do anything?"

Immediately getting in front of you, Jeno blocks you from this stranger's view. "Who are you?!" He demands.

"I believe I'm the one who should be asking all the questions. I'm the one who will be overseeing this investigation."

"Investigation..." Jeno mumbles. "Wait, this is just a house fire, shouldn't the fire chief be in charge?"

"It would have just been a house fire but now we're investigating a possible homicide."

"HOMICIDE?!" You and Jeno shout.

ⓗ  ⓤ  ⓝ  ⓣ  ⓔ  ⓡ

Your hand grazes over the pictures that were taken from your wedding reception. The smiling faces of Jaemin's friends who have strangely become quite important people in your life since that day. Renjun and Haechan bickering after Haechan shoved some of your wedding cake on his face. A slight smile tugs at the corner of your mouth at the hilarious memory. Those two are like Tom and Jerry, constantly doing things to piss the other off but at the end of the day would feel incomplete if the other weren’t around. 

Then, there is Mark, Chenle, and Jisung smiling sweetly for the camera, but the best part of the picture are Chenle's fingers behind Mark and Jisung's heads while he smiles extra bright for the picture. The little sneak thinking that he would get away with giving them bunny ears – he would have too if Jaemin hadn’t sent everyone copies of the pictures. 

When the guys came over for a meal that’s when the arguing began between those three ensued, thank goodness when you brought out the food they forgot what they were fighting about — making the rest of the evening quite pleasant. 

Finally, your hand stops at a picture of yourself, Jaemin and Jeno. This one being your husband's favorite picture… You can hear his voice ringing in your ears when he printed out the picture,

'My two favorite people in the world... We should frame this one, don't you think?'

After the fake wedding and reception and when all his friends left to go back to their homes the mask you were wearing shattered. You didn’t have to pretend anymore to be happy about what was supposed to be the best day of your life. You could let your sorrow show and make sure the man that has single handedly ruined your life know exactly how you felt. Which meant going back to avoiding him every chance you got. There was no talking, no listening, and no doing anything that he requested you to do. The only thing you did was sit on the window seat staring out at the world that is no longer your oyster. This wasn't a marriage, this was a life sentence.

Slamming the album closed you place it back on the bookshelf next to all the other fake memories he's created to fit his twisted fantasy. The only memories that are real are the moments with your son. Everything surrounding the child you fortunately, yet unfortunately share with him are the realist moments between the two of you.

Opening up the album specified for your first pregnancy, you stare at a picture of the two of you from your first doctor's appointment, the memory playing out in front of you as if you were watching a movie. Jaemin couldn’t stop fidgeting despite the fact he knew you were pregnant before the doctor confirmed it. Whether his fidgety behavior was due to the anticipation of you blurting out that you’re being held against your will, or because he was truly excited to hear if your symptoms were in fact true that the two of you would become parents — you still don’t know to this day, but shockingly his behavior must have been normal for first time dad’s because it sure didn’t flag as unusual to the doctor or nurse. 

Turning the page you push down the memory of wanting to shout to the doctor, to the people in the waiting room that you were a victim of the man sitting next to you. Deep down you were desperately screaming for help, for someone to call the cops but from the moment he approached you at the last gate and told you that you were pregnant you lost the will to fight. The only will you have left in you is to make sure that your son has a happy life and knows NOTHING of what befell you. 

Looking down at the next picture you gently giggle at your first ultrasound photo. That day Jaemin said your son looked like a little lima bean. Strangely, it was a sweet moment. His eyes were glued to the monitor as a trickle of sweat dripped down the side of his face. He was always nervous when it came to your checkups. It was as if he was waiting for someone to pull the rug from underneath him. But the moment the nurse found the tiny little bean shaped baby growing inside of you, his shoulders slumped down and his body relaxed. 

He earnestly asked if you guys can have a photo and turned to you smiling brightly. As if this picture would cure all diseases, as if the child inside of you would solve all the world’s problems — he grabbed your hand gently, pulling it up to his lips where he gave your knuckles a kiss.

‘Thank you.’ He whispered. 

‘For what?’ You asked. 

‘Thank you for making me a father. I swear I will do everything in my power to ensure that you and our baby are safe. I promise.’ 

And you knew he meant every word…

After your son’s first ultrasound there are plenty of photos of your growing belly. Jaemin becoming quite thrilled watching the growth of you and your son. At first it was a little weird to you. You didn’t like seeing how big your stomach was getting and the small stretch marks that started to appear, despite rubbing cocoa butter on your stomach every day. But Jaemin being Jaemin reassured you every day…

‘Princess, you’re not fat, okay? You look amazing!’ He says holding up the camera. 

‘I told you I don’t want to take any more pictures.’

‘Don’t you want our son to see these when he’s older? To know that he has the best mother in the world?! To know that she took the best care of herself as well as him?’

‘Yeah, like a picture is going to show all of that,’ you roll your eyes. 

‘Please, just one more?’

‘Fine. Take it.’

In hindsight these pictures are some of the ones you treasure the most. Knowing the best gift you could ever receive in your life was with you – growing with you day by day, both of you getting stronger helped to heal some of the wounds you’ve suffered. 

But nothing will ever top the moment that both Jaemin and yourself saw your son’s face for the first time with the three-dimensional imaging. This was the moment where you knew everything was real! That this was happening! That you were about to be a mom! And Jaemin's words after seeing your son's face for the first time darn near broke you...

'You did it,' he whispers next to you. 'Look at him... he's gorgeous... great job, mom.'

Those words of validation for some strange reason had your heart and mind playing games with you. The Jaemin you first met was in that room with you, looking at the beautiful life you both created, together. His eyes glistening with tears despite his lips trying to hold back the proudest smile the world has ever seen. At that moment, you had the Na Jaemin back...

But those moments didn't last. The moment you left your appointment realization came crashing down. This isn't real. These moments are fabricated to fit one person's psychotic fantasy. Even the child that grows within you was not created out of love, but out of survival. Those weeks where you submitted to him while you painstakingly planned your escape, only for this gift and curse to keep you tethered to him.

"You know it doesn't have to be this way, right?" An all too familiar voice whispers behind you. "We can make this work between us. For the baby at the very least," his arms wrap around your waist pulling you to his chest. 

The numbing sensation you’ve grown accustomed to starts to slither up your body. It starts from your toes to your ankles, sinking deeper and deeper into your flesh. These past couple of months since the wedding you’ve learned a new skill — how to completely shut down any and all feelings. Letting whoever has control do whatever they please. 

"I've asked for your forgiveness so many times. I've been on my hands and knees for you. I've bowed my head on the ground before you. Yet you haven't forgiven me..."

But just like the venomous beast he is, Jaemin finds a crack in this new skill of yours. Bursting through like a bull he shatters everything before facing the one emotion that is always below the surface, rage. 

"Do you really think you deserve forgiveness, Jaemin? What if the roles were reversed? What if I bowed my head to you? If I begged and pleaded for you to forgive me after kidnapping you and gas lighting everyone in your life for my own fucked up fantasy, would you forgive me? Would you forgive me if I had forcefully rode your dick to kingdom come until I ended up pregnant further linking us together? Knowing full well no matter where you go in this world there will always be a part of me attached to you!! Would you still forgive me?!" You shout, your eyes and fists clenching.

Squeezing you tighter in his embrace, his forehead falls to the top of your head. "No.” He whispers. 

Startled, your body freezes up. Did he… wait, he didn’t just say, “no?” You ask.

“No. I wouldn’t be able to forgive you. I’m not going to pretend that I would. I won’t and I can’t lie to you like that. What I did was,” he pauses sighing, once again his arms wrapping tighter around you. “Is, wrong. The past few months since you’ve started to ignore my existence I’ve done a lot of thinking.

“I was scared that you were going to leave me. I was scared that the one source of happiness I found on this earth was going to disappear. Logically, I know if it was meant to be we could have made it work, but I had never fallen so fast and hard for someone in my life. In fact, I’ve tried to avoid falling in love completely.

“I can say that it was because of my parents, I can say that it’s because of crappy exes who didn’t care about me but about the money my family has, but that’s not the complete truth. When I lost my grandmother a piece of me broke that day. She was the only person who saw me. She was the only person to look me in my eyes and see Jaemin, not Na Jaemin, the son of a multimillionaire, the one to take over the company one day.

“She just saw me, her grandson. When you came into my life and we started talking, it was like I was seen,” he sniffles. “Someone was finally looking at me for me.”

“And you’re telling me your friends don’t see you for you?”

“They see me as the kid who’s from a rich family. Plus, it’s not like they aren’t from well off families either.”

“You’ve doubted their loyalty?”

“Never.”

“Then you trust them and accept that they see you for you.”

“Only one person.”

“Jeno?” You inquire.

Nodding he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, his arms loosening for his hands to rest on your round belly. “Please…tell me what I can do. Tell me what I can do to start over. To show you the kind of man I truly am…please..."

"Confess."

His body stiffens behind you. His heart pounding against your back. Closing your eyes you wait for any type of reaction from him. Whether it be anger, tears, or worse…

“Confess?” He asks, but his voice sounds distant.

“Yes. Confess all of your crimes towards me.”

Instead of answering you, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. His breath hot on your neck, you pray that he won’t do anything drastic. “I…I need help…” He chokes back a few tears. “Please, I need help… don’t make me… I’m sorry…”

“You need more than help, Jaemin. You kidnapped me, locked me in that room, and had me play that fucked up game for lord knows how long! You need to pay for your crimes!”

Jaemin buries his face into the crook of your neck. “Aren’t I paying for them already? You don’t talk to me. You won’t even look at me! You barely let me touch you. The only time you show an ounce of your true self is when we’re at your doctor's appointments. That’s it…”

“And how exactly am I supposed to act? Do you want me to put on a mask and pretend like I’m happy that my life was uprooted? That I barely get to see my family, oh, and the only time I do is when I’m around you? Come on, Jaemin…”

“Fine…” he sniffs and tears himself away from you. “Just… just let me at least be here when the baby is born, okay? After that…” he takes a deep yet shaky inhale. “I’ll confess to everything, okay? I’ll turn myself in.”

ⓗ  ⓤ  ⓝ  ⓣ  ⓔ  ⓡ

“There we go, all better!” The nurse says as she finishes bandaging your right forearm. “Now, you’re going to need to avoid getting your arm wet for a while until it heals properly,” she starts.

“How long exactly?” You inquire.

“Well we’ll schedule you for an appointment in about a week at the wound center. There is a hospital across the river that specializes in the treatment of wounds and Dr. Andrews, the one who came in and initially inspected your arm,” you nod. “Well, he’s the head doctor there so he will be checking on your healing progress. He said that you’re very lucky and it’s not a serious burn, but to be safe for the next seven days if you can avoid getting water on your arm it would be for the best.”

“Wh-What about bathing? And my son, I need to give him baths!”

“I wouldn’t mind volunteering,” a snarky voice startles both you and the nurse. “That is if you don’t mind disrobing in front of me.”

Exhaling deeply you let out a loud groan. “What are you doing here, Haechan?”

“Jeno called us,” he steps forward. “Now, now, don’t look so miserable. You’ll break my heart.”

“He called you and you decided to sprint over here? How nice of you.” You spat.

“Look, I was just joking about the bathing thing. My sister can help you with that if you want,” he shoves his hands in his pocket shrugging. “As for the little guy, aren’t you staying with Jeno?”

“Yes…”

“Well, there you go. Plus, the little dude is like what 10? He can handle a bath by himself.”

“He’s six and a half,” you growl. 

“Easy now,” he smirks. “I was just playing.”

The nurse's eyes bounce between you and Haechan confused. “Exactly who are you, sir?”

“I’m the guy who’s going to be interviewing her for the homicide of Na Jaemin.” 

“WHAT?!” You scream. 

“Shit woman! Do you have to make my ears bleed?”

“I swear!” You look at the nurse. “I swear I didn’t do anything! Haechan! You jackass! What the hell is going on?!”

“Look,” he holds up hands trying to calm you down. “We both know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt Jaemin, especially not with your son around. The problem is that they found a body in YOUR home where there was a fire and Jaemin is nowhere to be seen. I’m not sure about the condition of the body but it’s already on its way to the coroners. 

“To be frank I shouldn’t even be on this case since I know you, but I can’t let this go to anyone else. Jaemin was my friend and when he married you, you became family to me. Until everything is resolved I’m going to make sure you and your son are safe. So just relax, okay? Tonight I’ll come over and explain everything that’s going to happen to you and Jeno. Call it a courtesy visit because we’re friends.”

“Haechan,” tears form at your waterline. “Please, you have to help me… I didn’t do anything! I swear! I could nev —”

He hushes you with his pointer finger against your lips. “I know and I hate knowing that right now you’re the prime and only suspect.”

“But I…”

“Ma’am, if this is your friend I’m sure he’ll do all that he can to help you. And if you said you had nothing to do with this incident you’ll be fine. The most important thing to focus on right now is healing so you can take care of your son.” The nurse rests a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“She’s right. It’ll be fine and I promise I will find out what happened to Jaemin.”

“Thank you, Haechan…”

“Of course.” His attention goes from you to the nurse, a somber look deep in his eyes. “So, is she able to answer a few questions now?”

“I don’t see why not, but please nothing too stressful. Ever since you showed up her heart rate has acted up,” the nurse teases. 

“I always knew you were into me,” he wiggles his brows and blows you a kiss.

“Go fuck yourself, Haechan.”

“If you don’t mind can we have a little privacy please?”

“Oh, yes.” The nurse nods and leaves. “If you need anything just press the button I gave you.”

“Thank you.”

You watch the nurse leave and close the door behind her leaving you and Haechan alone. Letting out a huge breath Haechan joins you on the bed. 

Looking out the small window in your room you ask the dreaded question. “How bad is it?”

“Depends on what you tell me here.”

“Do they really think that I would do something as deliberate as to set my home on fire with my child and I barely escaping it unscathed?! What kind of lunacy are they snorting down at your precinct?!”

“I know you would do anything to protect your kid. We all know that but my boss doesn't. So I need you to tell me EVERYTHING. The events leading up to the fire and what happened afterwards. I need to know it all and DO NOT leave anything out.”

Gulping your head slowly turns to Haechan. “Exactly how much of everything do you need to know?”

Holding up his work phone he shows you the voice recording app. Turning your head away he says, “everything.” 

“That’s a little personal don’t you think?” Peeking back at him you see him press the button and know there is no way to get out of this. 

“Why don’t we start from the beginning? Actually, none of us know this, but when did you first meet Jaemin?”

You shrug, “almost two years before our son was born.”

“How did you meet him?”

“I got lost while taking a back road and ended up at his grandmother’s estate where he was staying. I had gotten hurt while trudging through the woods near her home and he allowed me to stay until I was better. He even invited my parents over so I wouldn’t miss spending the holidays with them.”

Shocked, Haechan chuckles. “Damn he did all that?”

“Yes it was very nice of him.”

“When did the two of you become official?”

“New Year’s Day.”

“How long did the two of you date before getting engaged?”

Rolling your eyes you start growing irritated. “Are these questions necessary? I mean really?!”

“Yes they are. We need to figure out if you had any reason to harm him.”

Turning away from Haechan you can’t help but remember all those months that you were locked up in that fucked up labyrinth of a home. How Jaemin made you play that perverse game hunting you down like you were a rabbit and he the wolf. Not to mention the use of his pride and joy, Nana… 

Your head springs up. “The dogs!!!!” You scream. “How could I have forgotten?! What the hell is wrong with me?! Where are the dogs? Are they okay?” 

“The two males seemed to have run away because they were located a few miles away in a different neighborhood. They’re safe and currently staying at a shelter until you’re able to care for them.”

“And Nana! What about her?”

Haechan shrugs, “we don’t know what happened to her. No one reported a dog that was found. I’ll check with the fire house, but as of now she may have perished in the fire.”

“She’s…she’s gone?” Tears spring to your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I know how much she meant to everyone.”

“Oh, Nana…” you cover your mouth as tears fall onto your hand. 

Your lips hidden from Haechan lightly tug at the ends. Fighting back the urge to smile, you let the appearance of grief take over your body. That hellish beast will no longer haunt you! She’s gone! Finally out of your life for good! 

It’s terrible to admit that you’re ecstatic she’s gone, but you are. She never got used to you being around. She would snap, bare her teeth, snarl, and bark at you. Not to mention all the times she purposely rushed past you making you lose your balance. The only sad part is that you will need to tell your son that his favorite dog in the whole wide world has passed away. Now that is going to be hard.

“So,” Haechan starts the interview again. “You were going to say how long you dated Jaemin.”

“We dated,” you sniff, “for about seven months and got engaged three months after I found out I was pregnant.”

“After your son was born, how was your marriage to Jaemin?”

“M-My marriage?”

“Yes, how was it being married to Jaemin? Did the two of you fight a lot? How did you manage being a new mom and a wife?”

“I… u-ummm —”

ⓗ  ⓤ  ⓝ  ⓣ  ⓔ  ⓡ

“Okay, I’m going to need you to give me one more biiiigggg~ push, okay?” The doctor instructs you.

“I can’t! I can’t do it!” You cry out.

“Princess you need to, okay?” Jaemin holds your hand in his. “You can do this, you can do anything you set your mind to.” He kisses your sweat drenched forehead.

“No! Seriously I can’t!” You start to cry. “It hurts!”

“Sweetheart, just think in one more push you’ll be able to hold your son in your arms. In one more push it’ll all be over,” he lays his head on top of yours. “I can’t imagine how much pain you’re in, but you just squeeze my hand as hard as you need to, okay?”

“Okay!!! On three I’m going to need you to push!” The doctor says enthusiastically.

“I can’t!” You now hold onto Jaemin’s hand with both of yours.

“You can do this!” He kisses your forehead once more.

“One…two…” taking a huge breath in, you brace yourself and squeeze the living daylights out of Jaemin’s hand when the doctor says, “THREE!!!”

“Yahhhhhhh!!!” Both Jaemin and yourself shout for different reasons. 

“We’re almost there just a little more,” the doctor instructs.

“Ahhhh c’mon!!!” You growl.

“You’ve got this princess just one more push!” Jaemin winces when you squeeze his hand again.

“AHHHHHHH FUCK!!!!!!!!” You scream.

And after the longest push of your life you hear the first cry of your baby boy. Immediately your body falls back onto the hospital bed, drenched in sweat. Your chest rises and falls quickly as you desperately try to catch your breath. Peeking down at the doctor, Jaemin’s eyes widen when the doctor holds up your baby.

“Princess! Princess!” He wraps his arm around your shoulders. “Look!”

Opening your eyes, you see the most beautiful baby in the world. Bursting into tears, Jaemin holds you close to him repeating ‘you did it! You did it!’ While his tears fall onto your cheeks.  

“Okay, we’re going to cut the umbilical cord now,” the doctor informs the two of you. “So, would you like to do the honors, dad?” 

Jaemin glances down at you. “C-Can I?”

“He’s your son, go ahead.” You reach up a clammy shaky hand and place it gingerly against his cheek.

Giving your wrist a quick kiss, Jaemin rushes over shaking from top to bottom. He’s given a pair of surgical scissors and the doctor tells him where to cut. After he is finished, they quickly take your son over to get a quick checkup, weigh in, and clean up, before he is placed in your arms. 

Consumed by this unspeakable feeling of pure love and adoration you stare at this beautiful baby. Feeling his breathing start to match your own, you wrap your hand gently around his. 

“You’re so beautiful right now,” Jaemin whispers next to you. 

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m all sweaty, my hair’s a mess and sticking to me, I must look like a mess right now… So, don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying. You’re glowing right now. And I never want to forget this sight for the rest of my life.”

Peeking up at him you gasp at the state Jaemin’s in. Eyes and nose red from the tears he’s fighting hard to hold back, but the smile on his face could make the devil himself change his ways. It’s simply angelic. Then again, the bright ceiling light above him helps to create this angelic atmosphere around him. Bending down he rests his forehead against yours as his hand cups your cheek.

“I love you so much.”

Closing your eyes, you bite your lips before uttering, “I know, Jaemin.”

Letting out a hurt laugh he kisses your nose before pulling back. “Thank you for allowing me to be here.”

“Jaemin,” you whisper.

“I’ll set everything up for the two of you to be taken care of for the rest of your lives.”

“Jaemin.”

“I’m sure the guys will be there to help you with whatever you need so you don’t have to worry —”

“STOP!” You raise your voice but not too loud as to wake the baby. “Just… stop, okay? You don’t… you don’t have to say anything…”

“A deal is a deal.”

“This is your son! Even if I’m not ecstatic about it, he deserves to have his father in his life and not through a plate glass window. And before you get some twisted idea that I’ve suddenly forgiven you, I just don’t want to know that you’re in some jail cell counting down the days before you can see us again. I think that would make you crazier than you already are.”

“But I thought…”

“I will never forgive you. This is just me showing you some compassion and leniency which you DO NOT deserve. I’m doing this for my child, but you WILL seek the help you need. The moment you stop going to therapy is the moment I change my mind and go to the police.”

“Absolutely! I swear I won’t…” he chokes out a cry. “I won’t let you or our son down. I know you said you would never forgive me but I will do everything in my power to show you I can be a man you can rely on. I’ll become a man that will be there for you and our child.”

“There will also be a few rule changes!”

“Rule…changes?” His head tilts.

“You will no longer accompany me when I leave the home.”

“BUT –” he starts.

Holding up your hand you stop him. “I am not going to leave you. Not now with our son. I will also not speak a word of what happened in regards to the two of us. I will not speak a word to your friends either of the events that occurred between us and I will keep up my role as the happy dutiful wife. All I ask in return is that you trust me. I need to leave the estate at some point, Jaemin. I need to be free to visit my parents on my own. I need to be able to go to the store without having you tag along. Let me have the life of a stay at home mom, deal?”

Closing his eyes tightly, he nods his head reluctantly. “Okay. Deal.”

ⓗ  ⓤ  ⓝ  ⓣ  ⓔ  ⓡ

The car ride to Jeno’s house is dead quiet. Your son has since fallen asleep with his head resting on your lap. The two of you are sitting in the back of Jeno’s car so your son can stretch out a little more. Across from you in the driver’s seat, Jeno’s hands grip the steering wheel tightly. It’s weird… this morning you had a home, a life, belongings, dogs, and a husband — now you’re homeless with a child, no job, and your parents… well, you can always live with them but after everything… 

“What did Haechan want to talk to you about?” Jeno whispers.

“He wanted to know about my relationship with Jaemin.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m the only suspect so far,” you sigh while stroking your son's hair. “He needed to get background information on my life with Jaemin.”

“What the fu —”

“Jeno!” You quickly interject.

Staring him dead straight in the eyes you look down towards your son. Instantly realizing his faux pas he gives a curt nod. “Sorry, I guess I’ll have to watch my language from now on. The two of you can stay with me for as long as you need to.”

“I’m sorry that this happened, Jeno. This must be such an inconvenience.”

“You’re not an inconvenience, you’re family!” He reaffirms.

“Thank you.”

The car goes quiet again. A thickness in the air of questions yet to be asked and answers that you honestly don’t want to give and can’t give. You’re still trying to wrap your head around what happened. How did the house become engulfed in such a short period of time? 

“So, what exactly did Haechan ask you in regards to Jaemin?”

“He wanted to know when we started dating, how our marriage life was like. I guess just your typical background information on the prime suspect. Jeno, if anything happens to me I need you to promise me one thing. I need you to —”

“Nothing is going to happen to you!” He grips the wheel tighter. “Do you hear me? Nothing! Haechan, the guys and I will never let anything happen to you. Plus, we promised Jaemin that a long time ago.”

“Wh-What?”

“When your son was born and after the plethora of baby pictures, I mean geez did the guy have to send every single one he ever took?” He chuckles, making you smile gently. “Anyway, after all that he called us out to have a round of drinks and said that he was the luckiest man in the world. 

“That he can’t believe that he had you in his life. He was just so happy. He asked us to promise him that if anything were to happen to him, anything at all, that we would take care of the two of you and we all promised without any hesitation.”

“He said that?”

“Mmmhmm. But now…” Jeno’s voice grows quiet. “Now that I’m thinking about it he was talking as if something would happen to him soon. It was strange. He was happy but at the same time he was scared.”

“He was scared?”

“Maybe scared isn’t the right word…worried, perhaps?”

“Worried…?” your gaze drifts off into the dark night. 

“Yeah it was almost as if his whole world would be swept away in an instant. It was strange we’ve never seen him like that before.”

“Did he ever say what was going on?”

“Ahhh!! We’re here,” Jeno states as he pulls into his driveway. “Haechan said he’ll be over in about two hours to talk to us about what will happen next. In the meantime I’ll make you guys something to eat and you can get cleaned up.”

“W-We don’t have anything to…” you whisper.

“Haechan said he’ll bring over some clothes for the two of you. His sister left some of her stuff at his place before she moved out. Tomorrow if the two of you are up for it we can go shopping for some essentials.”

“I promise Jeno I’ll pay you back! I swear!” 

Turning back around he cracks a wide smile. “Don’t worry about it. And I’ll say it here and now so listen up. There will be no saying ‘I’m sorry about this,’ or ‘No, you can’t. This is too much,’ or anything like that, okay?”

“You’re an amazing person, Jeno. Thank you for everything. Truly. We'll forever be in your debt.”

“Nonsense,” he gets out of the car. “Now let’s get you two inside and some food in your stomachs.”

ⓗ  ⓤ  ⓝ  ⓣ  ⓔ  ⓡ

Sitting on the front porch on the swing Jaemin and Jeno put together for you a year ago during the early spring – you watch your son gleefully play with all of the dogs on the massive front lawn. It’s bizarre to imagine that three years ago you were holding your son for the first time. That he was this tiny precious baby and now, he’s running, laughing, and playing with all the dogs. He’s learning new words each and every day. How many clothes he’s grown out of, but one thing hasn’t changed – his love for you grows stronger and stronger each day.

“Mama!” He waves.

“Hi baby!” You wave back.

Nana barks, grabbing your son’s attention and he laughs while climbing on top of her. The smile you were proudly wearing starts to fade as the little shit of a creature wags her tail enthusiastically towards your son. Well, if there was one plus side with having Nana around, it was her loyalty. She would probably rush into a burning building to save your son before you took your first steps to do the same. She might be a bitch to you, but she loves your son dearly and for that, you’ll cover your disdain for her with a clench of annoyance with your jaw.

“I made some lemonade,” Jaemin says, coming out onto the front porch. “It’s extra sweet, just how you like it.”

“Ah, thanks,” taking your glass you mix the liquid around with the straw before taking a huge gulp. “It’s good.”

“It’s not too sweet?” He asks taking a seat next to you.

“No, it’s perfect.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad. I put in a little more sugar than last time. I’ll have to remember to make it this way from now on. So, what is on today’s agenda?”

“I need to go into town and do a little more shopping for his birthday party. Did you call the caterer?”

“Yep, they’ll be here an hour and a half before the party starts. The only problem we might have is the weather. It might rain in the afternoon, so I pulled a few strings and we’ll have a big tent set up the night before in the backyard as a precautionary measure.”

“It’s supposed to rain?” You ask worried. “Should we reschedule?”

“It would be too much of a hassle to reschedule. Plus, it’s just a smaller party this time around. Everything will be fine.”

“I just want his third birthday to be one to remember…” you pout looking out at your son who is still playing with the dogs.

“He’s not going to remember this birthday party at all so why worry? I mean do you remember your third birthday party?” Jaemin chuckles. “Once he hits seven that’s when we’ll have to up the ante.”

“Great, I'll have three years to plan the best party of all time.”

Jaemin starts to swing the porch swing gently, a huge smile on his face. “I know I’ve said this a million times already but I need to thank you for everything. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be here for moments like these. I wouldn’t be able to see him grow up at all, to see him laughing and playing with the dogs, or see his first steps. It’s all thanks to you that I’m able to experience all of this.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you mumble. “Plus, who else would take care of Nana? She hates me and only likes the two of you.”

Chuckling, Jaemin reaches over and puts his hand on top of yours. “She doesn’t hate you.” Glaring at him he starts laughing more. “Okay, maybe she highly dislikes you, but I mean, you did try to kill me, remember?” He tilts his head.

“It’s not like I wanted to!” You snatch your hand from under his. “You left me with no other choice!”

“I know I didn’t leave you any other choice. It was a joke, I’m sorry.”

Glancing over you see the smile that Jaemin was boasting to the world has since disappeared. These past three years have been turbulent to say the least. You’ve sporadically burst out in pure rage towards him which could be a combination of many things. Blaming most of these outbursts on fatigue, which you felt was true considering your son would not sleep right until a few months ago – deep down both of you know it’s because you’re still harboring the hatred you felt for being trapped by him. Though admittingly, the feelings have become less and less as the years go by.

Jaemin has been an excellent father. He’s gone above and beyond anything you could have thought of. Even when he was barely getting two hours of sleep a night he would wake up and take care of his precious baby allowing you to sleep. The only time he ever woke you, was when there was no milk in the fridge that you pumped. Jaemin wanted to be present for everything in his child’s life, all of the little moments and all of the big moments. He’s been amazing…

“No, I’m sorry.” You rub between your brows. “I shouldn’t have shouted. Plus, I knew what I was doing back then. I wanted to do it…”

“You wanted to kill me?” He asks quietly.

“I wanted to be free.”

ⓗ  ⓤ  ⓝ  ⓣ  ⓔ  ⓡ

“Okay, what are we looking at?” Jeno asks Haechan.

“Geez, can’t a guy get himself comfortable before you jump down my throat? Plus, where’s your hospitality? No drink? No offering of food? Tsk, tsk, not a very good host at all.”

“Haechan cut the crap!” Jeno growls. “This is serious! We need to know what’s going to happen!”

“Okay, okay, I know,” Haechan turns to you. “I sent in the transcript of what we talked about to my boss. He glanced over a few things but he’s still not satisfied. Now, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he wants to look into the specifics of your relationship. I’m supposed to talk to your parents and try to get a feeling of how Jaemin and yourself were like during your relationship. He said something doesn’t feel right and he wants me to look into it.”

“Something doesn’t feel right?” You ask.

“For him, the timeline doesn’t make any sense. Honestly, I can’t blame him.”

Jeno runs an aggravated hand through his hair. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means while I was doing some research I found myself asking the same questions as him. How does someone who was so close to being a major player at her company just up and leave one day, out of the blue? How does she never go back to her job EVER and how does she not go back to her home? I talked with your landlord; he says he hasn’t seen you in over eight years. What’s up with that?” Haechan asks you.

“Why the hell are you looking into her like she’s some kind of suspect? Do you think she had anything to do with this? Whose side are you on?”

“That’s because as of right now she’s the prime suspect! It’s always the spouse who we dig into first with a fine-toothed comb, you should know this already. Look I’m on her side, but I’m going to do my job whether you or,” he looks you in the eyes and you knew what he was about to say, “you like it. This is my job! My livelihood. I can’t just sweep things under the rug. I promised that I would protect you and I will, but you’ve got to throw me a bone, some things just aren’t adding up.”

“So she quit her job and moved in with Jaemin. What does that have to do with anything? Plenty of couples move in with each other. If this is the kind of talk you wanted to have you can just leave!”

“Why are you getting so pissed? I’m keeping the two of you in the loop of EVERYTHING that’s going to happen. I’m not hiding anything.”

Jeno rises from the couch. “Because you’re making it seem like she’s guilty!”

“And who’s to say she isn’t?!” Haechan shouts while standing up as well. “Just because she’s family doesn’t mean she’s innocent!”

“Can we just keep our voices down, or take this conversation outside?” You ask.

“We made a promise to Jaemin! WE, as in all of us, promised to keep her safe as well as her son if ANYTHING were to happen to him.”

“And why did he make us promise something like that? Hmmm?! Maybe he expected that something would happen to him!”

“Are you fucking serious? Why would he think his life is in danger?”

“I don’t know, why don’t we ask his corpse that is in the fucking morgue!” Haechan screams as tears fall down onto his cheeks.

“H-Haechan…” you grab ahold of his hand. “Please, stop, both of you.”

“No! He’s being an asshole!” Jeno shouts.

“I’m trying to put together a picture so I can prove she had nothing to do with this!”

“And looking into her work history is how you do this?”

Sighing, you stand up between them. “Jaemin and I,” you start to speak but stop. “Jaemin and I had a fraudulent marriage!” You shout.

Silence fills the room as you finally speak some of your truth. Frankly, it felt nice to speak about things. Having kept this secret, this charade up for the past seven years has been tough. With Jaemin gone, perhaps…you can finally be free…

“What did you just say?” Haechan grabs your shoulders.

“I mean it wasn’t fraudulent in the literal sense. I lied to you when I said that Jaemin and I had been dating. We, well, the thing is –”

Scoffing Jeno rolls his eyes flopping down on the couch.  “So Haechan is right,” he shakes his head. “You’re going to sit down and tell us everything. No more secrets.”

“E-Everything?”

“Everything,” Haechan sits down as well. “This is only going to help you in the long run. If everything checks out then you won’t have anything to worry about.”

“What if I do have something to worry about? What if I say what happened between Jaemin and I and I lose everything?” Tears start to trickle down your cheeks. “Look, all you need to know is that towards the end, we were working on things. We even started to sleep in the same bed again! I swear!”

“You weren’t sleeping in the same bed?” Jeno questions.

Shaking your head anxiously, “I shouldn’t have said anything. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

“Tell us what happened!” Haechan states firmly and while you shake your head, your eyes close tightly, repeating ‘I can’t, I can’t’ over and over again until Haechan grabs your hand and soon you hear it click.

“H-Haechan!” Jeno gasps. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Haechan!” You squeak.

“Tell us everything or I’m going to take you down to the precinct and interrogate you the proper way. I’ll put you in our holding cell until you decide to talk. So, which do you prefer?” He holds up the other end of the handcuffs making your arm raise slightly.

Your eyes bounce back and forth between your hand and Haechan’s intense gaze. He wasn’t joking at all. He’s being dead serious. Gently turning to Jeno he motions for you to just talk, clearly exhausted from this situation and most likely today’s fiasco. Nodding, Haechan lowers your arm. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out his phone and goes straight to the audio recording app. Clicking the button he asks you the question, ‘what exactly happened between you and Jaemin?’

“Jaemin and I were married legally but we weren’t in love,” you start your sorted tale. “Well, at least I wasn’t in love. Jaemin, he was the one who was in love with me. I guess the real truth was he was madly, enthusiastically, crazily, in love with me. When we were married, I hated him. I was numb from the inside out. I only went through with the wedding because of my son.”

“Why would you marry someone you hate just because of your son? You were making quite enough money for yourself and any children you would have, so why go through everything to marry someone you hate?”

Shrugging you coil in on yourself. “That’s something I can’t explain. Like I stated I was numb. I had shut down all thoughts and feelings for the most part. It was as if I was looking at my life from outside of my body. I liked Jaemin when we first met. I even thought I found the person I would spend the rest of my life with, but he went crazy when I told him I had to go. He started acting erratic and, well, there’s really no other way to say it, but he kidnapped me.”

Haechan stops the recording quickly after you finish speaking. “What the fuck do you mean he kidnapped you?!”

“Jaemin slipped something into my drink the night before I was going to leave. I fell asleep in his arms in his bed and when I woke up I was in a different room chained to a bed. The chain was long enough for me to move around the room and to use the bathroom, but I couldn’t leave. He had Nana, for the most part, watch the door I was in. That little bitch hated me.” You roll your eyes. “The tears I was shedding in the hospital when you told me she was gone, were tears of joy. I couldn’t stand that dog. She would always try to trip me, she would bark at me, snap at me. She was acting like a jealous ex-girlfriend. She was like that the moment I stepped into Jaemin’s life.”

Shaking his head, Haechan stands up. “No. This… This didn’t happen.” He grabs his phone.

“It did happen, Haechan! I was locked in a fucking room for months and was made to play some stupid game where he was hunting me!”

“Shut up!” Haechan growls.

“No! You wanted to know what happened between us, so I’m going to tell you what happened between us. Every week I had to attempt to escape the estate. That was the game. Try to get through the fucking maze below the house to the main floors and escape past the three gates that were locked – the kicker, he had put the key to the locks to the gates on my collar that he had me wear around my neck. I was given breaks only at dinner time and at night where I had to enter a designated room.

“Once I was inside there was a light that turned green indicating that the game was officially on hold until the next morning. He would use Nana to sniff me out which made escaping damn near impossible. When he found me, he’d hook a chain to my collar and drag me back to the room I was staying in like a fucking dog! But when I got hurt, the games stopped and I was put on bedrest –”

“I’m not hearing any of this,” he puts his hands over his ears.

Standing up you grab hold of his wrists tugging at his hands. “So I did what I needed to do to survive! I pretended that I wanted him. I gave into every touch,” you hiss venomously remembering those moments. “That’s when the numbness started,” a dark cynical smile spreads across your lips. “I shut down completely and surrendered to him.

“I let him fuck me how many times a day he wanted to. I begged and pleaded for more like a wanton whore!” You shriek tears pouring down your face. “But that only gave me a chance to think about my escape. I waited until he felt comfortable around me. Until he could trust me, until he would free me of my chains that held me back from doing the one thing I couldn’t do before…”

“What did you do?” You hear Jeno’s shaky voice behind you.

Turning back your eyes darken over with a chilliness that has him shrinking back. “I tried to kill him. I thought I did honestly. I used a pillow to suffocate him in his sleep. I made my escape only to be stopped by Nana at the top of the steps. I pointed to where Jaemin was, and just like the dutiful dog she is, or was, she went to go and check on him.

“I sprinted through the halls that I mapped out many times in my head to get to the main floor as quickly as possible. I was afraid that at any second he would materialize before me. I made it out of the house and through the first two gates. I could barely breathe. My body was so tired, I don’t know how long I was locked down in that labyrinth of hell, but the brightness of the sun almost blinded me. When I got to the final gate and opened it, I was about to take my first steps to freedom when the gates closed automatically. And that’s when I realized I made a huge mistake, and the rest, well you guys know the rest of this fucked up tale.”

Out of nowhere Haechan lunges at you, his hands wrapping around your neck. “You fucking bitch! You killed him! You did this!”

“WHAT THE HELL!!!!! HAECHAN!!!! LET GO OF HER!” Jeno shouts as he rushes to stop Haechan.

“You wanted him dead! You made sure to end him this time didn’t you? Didn’t you?!” His grip on your neck tightens.

You claw for Haechan to let go of your neck when you start gasping for air, your vision beginning to gloss over from your tears. Maybe this was for the best. Haechan’s anger, though delayed, is justified. You did try to end his friends’ life, but it failed, and you were still trapped with that monstrous beast.

“Haechan! Stop! She’s turning purple!!!” Jeno screams. “She didn’t kill him! He lived you jackass!”

“She waited seven years to finish the job! I know she did!”

Your hands that were gripping Haechan’s wrists go limp at your sides. Jeno will take care of your son, you know he will. Plus, now your baby will never know what happened between you and his father. The secret of his conception will forever be hidden from him. No questions like ‘mommy how did you and daddy meet?’ ‘Mom what did dad say that won you over?’ ‘Mom, how long did it take for you to plan your wedding?’ Tears sprinkle down into your ears. The only sad thing is, you won’t see your baby boy grow up.

“Fuck man! Stop!!!!!” Jeno uses all his strength to punch Haechan square in his jaw and only then are you freed from his grasp. Not bothering to gasp for air, Jeno catches you in his arms. “Breathe!” He screams as the two of you fall to the floor, your body resting in his lap.

Why? You ask yourself. Why breathe? No matter what happens, no matter what truth comes out you’ll be thought of as guilty, so why bother?

“FUCK BREATHE!!!!!!!” Jeno’s tears fall onto your face. “PLEASE!!! BREATHE!!!!! FUCK!!!! HAECHAN CALL FOR AN AMBULANCE!”

“Let the bitch die, it’s what she deserves,” he hisses.

“What the hell are you talking about? Shit! D-Don’t worry, just stay with me, okay? Stay with me…” Jeno scrambles for his phone in his pocket.

“She deserves to die after what she did. How can you sit there and defend her?! She tried to kill Jaemin once, what makes you think that she didn’t try to kill him again?”

“For fucks sake man! I knew all of this shit already! I knew everything!”

Your heart pounds loudly in your ears. Your body is now screaming for air to fill your lungs. What did he mean he knew everything? He…He couldn’t have. Jaemin would never tell anyone his secret…he wouldn’t…

“…When you came into my life and we started talking, it was like I was seen,” he sniffles. “Someone was finally looking at me for me.”

“And you’re telling me your friends don’t see you for you?”

“They see me as the kid who’s from a rich family. Plus, it’s not like they aren’t from well off families either.”

“You’ve doubted their loyalty?”

“Never.”

“Then you trust them and accept that they see you for you.”

“Only one person.”

“Jeno?” You inquire.

Nodding he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck…

“Mom…my…” You hear your son’s voice enter the room.

GO AWAY! BABY!!! PLEASE!!!! You scream in your head.

“Little man,” Jeno’s body trembles under you. “U-Ummm… your mom is just sleeping, go back to bed, okay?”

“Mommy…” you hear your son’s voice again. “Mama!!!!!” His voice comes closer to you. “Mommy!!!!!” He cries out your name.

AHHHHHH FUCK IT!!!!! 

And finally, you gasp for air. 

“Finally!!!” Jeno holds you in his arms. “Are you okay?”

“Mommy?” Your son sniffs. “What’s wrong with mommy?” He starts to cry.

“Uhh, she was just sleeping deeply,” Jeno lies. “Hae-Haechan, why don’t you tuck him back into bed, okay?” Haechan doesn’t move, his face blank and unreadable. “Haechan!” Jeno cries out. “Please, take him back to bed. It’s past his bedtime.”

“We’re not done here,” he replies, his voice cold as ice.

“Yes, yes, now go…”  Haechan reaches out for your sons’ hand and you watch your little boy disappear into the darkness of the shadowy hallway. “Shit woman,” Jeno exhales, his head resting on top of yours. “What the fuck were you thinking? You have a kid!”

You try to answer him, but your voice doesn’t come out. Again, you try to speak, but nothing.

“Don’t you ever do something like that again, got it?! Shit… I thought I’d have to bury two friends and I can’t do that. I can’t!”

“He’s back in bed,” Haechan returns into the living room entryway, leaning against the wall. “Now, would someone care to explain to me what the actual fuck is going on here?”

Suddenly tears well up in your eyes as you stare at Haechan. The numbing feeling that coursed through your body when he was beyond pissed at you vanished, now the only thing in its wake is fear. Fear that you’ve ruined your chances of freedom. Fear that you won’t be able to clear your name when you did absolutely nothing this time around. Fear that you were actually going to let yourself chase the white light and leave everyone including your son behind.

Holding out your hands you lower your head in shame and let everything out. Your body quakes as tears fall onto the floor beneath you uncontrollably. You deserve to be behind bars. You deserve to face your fate for so many things. Lying, manipulating, gas lighting, attempting to… you can’t even think of the word, for even contemplating ending your life, you deserve all the hell you’re about to face. Every bit of it…

Footsteps ring out into the quiet room, getting closer and closer to you until they stop right in front of you. You feel Jeno’s arm wrap around your waist protectively. A burning sensation pierces the skin of your hands, they are hit away. Peering up you see Haechan’s cold gaze staring you down as if you’re a piece of shit. His hand goes up again and Jeno’s grasp on you tightens even more, his body starting to turn you away from Haechan.

Clenching his hand, Haechan sighs. “Pull yourself together; you’ve got a kid to take care of.” He gets up, shoves his phone in his pocket and grabs his jacket. “We’re not done talking about what just happened.” He states before heading out the door.

ⓗ  ⓤ  ⓝ  ⓣ  ⓔ  ⓡ

Leafing through the papers on his desk, Haechan rolls his eyes annoyed. How could things have gone unnoticed for so long? How were you able to keep up the charade of a fake relationship with Jaemin the whole time the two of you were together? Staring at the home you and Jaemin shared he starts to bite his nails. The answer to everything felt so close and yet so far. Were you being honest about the happenings between the two of you early on? Were you hiding something?

The chatter and phones fill the precinct, but he’s since blocked out all of the noise. Three weeks have passed since he last saw you. Three weeks since he lost his temper and tried to…

“Shit!” He groans. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” He whispers to himself.

“Everything alright there?”

Haechan raises his head to see his co-worker, Mikayla. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“Mmmhmm, is that the reason why you look like hell because everything is fine?”

“Don’t you have a job to do? A case to solve or someone else to bother?”

Sliding her chair into her desk she looks across from her, smirking at Haechan. “Nope. But, if someone doesn’t mind handing over one of their cases I wouldn’t refuse.”

“You want the murder suicide case that badly huh?”

“Who wouldn’t? It was at the Governors’ Ball! Plus, it’ll look good with the higher ups.”

For the second time in five minutes Haechan rolls his eyes before opening one of the drawers at his desk. “Here, be my guest.” He grabs a file and tosses it over onto Mikayla’s desk. “I’ve got too much to deal with on this case anyway.”

“Are you talking about the house that burnt down?” She pouts. “What’s there to solve with that one? Didn’t the fire chief say that it wasn’t an act of arson?”

“Yes, but something isn’t sitting well with me. He stated that a gas pipe had a crack in it, but even then his words were ‘things happen sometimes. The house was old and didn’t have any updates to make sure that things were up to code. If it wasn’t a cracked pipe it would have been something else.’”

Nodding she looks through the case she’s just been handed. “And you don’t think the fire chief of all people knows what he’s talking about?”

“It’s not that…”

“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the lady of the house already,” she chuckles. “Or,” she gasps. “Do you think she’s the one who caused this?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” he runs a tired hand through his hair. “I think I need to take a break for a second and clear my mind.” Pushing his chair out he takes out his keys and unlocks the front drawer, grabbing a pack of cigarettes. “Care to lend a friend a shoulder for a bit?” He asks her.

Heading outside Haechan and Mikayla bow their heads and chit chat lightheartedly with a few of their fellow detectives and cops before heading around the corner to an alley next to the precinct. Leaning against the wall of the precinct, Haechan pops up a cigarette and offers one to Mikayla.

“You know I don’t smoke.” She waves a dismissive hand.

“Not now you don’t,” he puts the cigarette between his lips. “Wait a couple years, it’ll either be these or drinking – pick a poison now so you won’t be blindsided later.”

“What’s gotten into you these past couple weeks? Obviously you’re not sleeping well. Your eyes look like a panda’s. It was a house fire, it’s terrible but what more could there be?”

“There was a victim of the house fire, a body, but I don’t know how it all connects together.” He lights the cigarette and takes an extra-long inhale. Blowing out the smoke he turns to Mikayla defeated. “Would you ever stay in an abusive relationship?”

“What kind of question is that? No!”

“Even if the person started out kind in the beginning, you still wouldn’t?”

“It doesn’t matter if they were a saint in the beginning, no one man or woman should deal with an abusive partner. Why are you asking me this?”

Taking a smaller drag of his cigarette Haechan puffs out another round of smoke. “The woman whose house burned down, I know her. I’ve known her for the past seven years. She’s practically family at this point.”

“And you’re working on her case? Haechan you know you shouldn’t be near this case!” Mikayla pushes herself off the wall to stand in front of him. “What were you thinking?! If the captain finds out about this you’ll be dead meat!”

“I’m the only one who can work this case. Plus, I promised her husband that no matter what happened to him I’d be there to protect her and her son. I’m not breaking that promise, no matter what.”

“Even if it comes back that she was somehow involved in the death of her husband? Haechan you’re not thinking clearly, pass this case on to someone else, let them look into things with an unbiased mind.”

Flicking off the butt of his cigarette Haechan chuckles, “you know I watched them get married. I was there the day her son was born. I've smiled and laughed at all the dinner parties, birthday parties, every Christmas holiday, but it was all a lie.” He takes another long inhale of his cigarette letting the smoke fill his lungs before blowing it out once again. “He kidnapped her,” he mumbles.

“Wh-What…?”

“My friend, the man I thought I knew was a monster this whole time. According to her, he kidnapped her, kept her locked in that house for God knows how long before she tried to fight back and get free.”

“What did she do?”

“She tried to kill him,” Haechan’s jaw tightens. “With a pillow apparently. That was over seven years ago.” He blows out another puff of smoke.

Shaking her head, Mikayla takes her spot next to Haechan once more. “An attempt of murder?” She whispers.

“At that point it would be self-defense, would it not? Worst case scenario most she’d get is a couple months or a year if the news of this was brought out.”

“If? You’re not going to put that in the report?”

“Is it necessary?”

“It would show that she had a motive in the past to hurt your friend, why wouldn’t you clarify this?!”

“Because she said they were making things work, that’s why…” with one last inhale he finishes his cigarette, puts it out on the wall next to him and flicks it off to the side. “If you were in my shoes would you let this go, or would you put it into the report?”

“How long was she married to your friend?”

“About seven years.”

Lowering her head, her arms fold across her chest. “Get the full story and then come back and ask me.”

“Or, you could listen in on an interrogation. I called her in to be here after lunch, so you down to do this?”

“Yes.”

“Right this way,” Haechan opens the door to the interrogation room and you walk in. “Do you need anything to eat or drink?”

Pulling out the chair on one side of the table, you sit down placing your purse on the floor. “No.” You answer curtly.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” He asks taking a seat in the chair across from you.

Clenching your jaw, you unwrap the scarf that was around your neck, folding it neatly off to the side. “Why would I be mad?”

Haechan’s expression falls quickly. Traces of his outburst are still visible on your neck, red bruising that anyone with decent eyesight could tell that someone had tried to hurt her. Scooting his chair uncomfortably, he leans forward. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened… I –”

Interjecting you ask, “what exactly did you want to discuss?”

The three weeks Haechan stayed away from both you and Jeno gave you a lot of time to think. It wasn’t that you were mad at him for what he did, hell if the roles were reversed you might have tried beating the shit out of someone who dared tried to kill your best friend – that being said, he would never be able to empathize with you. He’ll never know what kind of pain you were in psychologically, physically, emotionally, and mentally.

Talking to Jeno before he dropped you off here before heading out for some light shopping, he mentioned one thing that stuck out to you. Jaemin and Haechan had a very interesting relationship, though they were friends, they had their fair share of bad blood in the past. Arguments that resulted in small misunderstandings, fist fights that broke out because one said something they shouldn’t have. Their relationship was always swaying back and forth like a pendulum from good to bad. There were only a handful of moments where their relationship was neutral, but even then – even in the bad moments, Haechan respected Jaemin.

“Please, I’m sorry… I was just so angry and I wasn’t thinking…” Haechan tries to explain.

“I’m not mad but I’m also aware that your loyalty is with Jaemin more than it is with me, it always has been and always will be. No matter what, you are his brother and I am his wife. Now, what did you want to discuss?”

Glancing behind him, he sighs and pulls out his phone. Going through the motions of setting up the recording for the interview, he starts with the basics, your name, age, and association with the deceased. Information that you’re sure is well known by all.

“When we last talked you mentioned that your husband hurt you, is that correct?”

“Yes I did.”

“In what ways did he hurt you?”

“Like I stated I’m not 100% sure but I believe Jaemin slipped something into my drink the night before I was set to leave to go back to my apartment in the next city, approximately three hours from here. I woke up on what I assume is the following morning and I was no longer in his bedroom, but in another room deep below the main house. The rooms were white and at first it hurt to open my eyes.

“My clothes were different from what I went to sleep in. I was only given a white shirt and white leggings, white undergarments, and white shoes. I then noticed that I had something wrapped around my neck, it was a leather collar and attached to it was a long heavy chain. As stated it was long enough for me to move around the room, to use the restroom that was inside of this bedroom, but to get out and leave, there was no way I could. I tried tugging and using anything I could to break free, but it was no use.

“In the beginning he just came in and provided food and drinks for me. Brought in some books for me to read, but no matter how much I begged and pleaded he wouldn’t let me go. After a while, during this time I had no concept of time or how many hours passed, how many days. There were no windows, but after a while he came in and said that he wanted to play a game with me. The concept of the game was for me to get out of this long maze of corridors underneath the house and make it out of the house and past all of the gates on the property.

“He put a key onto my collar, removed the chain, stepped aside and told me to go ahead. I bolted out the door and from down the hall, where I was staying in — he said if I don’t make it out we’ll keep playing until I do. He knew very well it was going to be impossible for me to leave.”

“Why did he keep you in this room and chained up?”

“He stated that when I told him I was going to leave and go back home he started freaking out. He was right, he did start acting really weird. I mentioned this as the second week of the New Year was rolling in. He started to become extra clingy, and begged me not to go back. He said things like ‘I can provide for you,’ ‘please don’t leave me, please!’ ‘What do I need to do to get you to stay.’ I was slowly starting to think this might not work out because of how he was acting, and then suddenly, he stopped acting like this. He simply asked, ‘are you serious about this relationship?’ To which I said, ‘yes.’”

Haechan’s brow quirks up in confusion. “You mean to tell me this is all because you were going to go back to your home and to your job?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry but that doesn’t make sense.”

“When someone has a psychotic break a lot of things don’t make sense. He confessed that he was scared that he would never see me again. He was scared that after all these years someone who saw him for him and not as some rich guy was going to leave his life forever. That wasn’t true. I liked him a lot. I wanted to be with him. I fell for him, fast and hard, as he did with me. The only problem is that I wasn’t alone locked up in a house in the middle of nowhere, like he was.

I didn’t have a job that for the most part kept me away from people until absolutely necessary. I didn’t have a family that seemed to not care if I spent the holidays alone. Actually, speaking of the holidays, why didn’t any of you spend time with him?”

Pressing the pause button on his phone Haechan lets out a deep sigh. “Let’s keep this about you, shall we?”

“What? I can’t ask questions when you know the victim as well?” Tilting your head you smile. “Or does everyone still think you’re not involved in any way?”

“Only one person knows and I’d prefer to keep it that way until we solve this case. As for your question, off the record, Jaemin never told us anything. If we’re talking about the time period of seven years ago, he secluded himself from the rest of us. We didn’t even know he was at his grandmother’s house. So there was no way we could have talked to him about getting together.”

“I see.”

“Shall we get back to the real line of questions?”

“Proceed.”

Pressing the pause button again the recording starts up. “You said he had a psychotic break, how are you so sure?”

“I don’t know, I would assume chaining someone in a room for months would be defined as a psychotic break, wouldn’t you agree Detective Lee?”

Rolling his eyes, Haechan smirks. “Okay, let’s say that I believe you and he kept you in this so-called room, where is it exactly? There was nothing about an underground room in the blueprint of the house.”

“Why would there be something on the blueprint when it’s supposed to be used for something you’re not supposed to be doing. It’s like having a hidden passageway, not really hidden if it’s in the blueprint. Or, having your safe room listed in the blueprints. If an intruder had the blueprints to the house, for whatever reason, it would be really stupid to have that room listed, now wouldn’t it?

“But to answer your question, the room itself was the last room in a long corridor of many corridors. I can’t tell you how deep below it is, but there was an opening behind a large painting on the main floor. It was right before you would head up to the second floor. You pull the painting away, unlock the door – Jaemin always had the key on hand, and go down a long narrow staircase. Once you reach the bottom it’s like a secret bunker.

“The hallway is this bright light gray tone that almost blinds you. You keep walking down that hallway and you reach a door. Now this door was always unlocked, unless Jaemin wasn’t down there with me. If I somehow managed to free myself he would need something else to keep me down there until he could subdue me once more.”

Shaking his head, Haechan clicks his tongue while leaning back in his chair. His arms cross over his chest as he sports the cockiest grin you’ve ever seen. “You expect me to believe all of this was underneath his grandmother’s house? Are you serious?”

“I’m telling you the truth. You just refuse to believe it because it sounds outrageous.” Leaning forward you lean your elbows on the table, propping your head up with your hands at your cheeks. “There are a lot of things in this world that are beyond imagination Haechan. There are people in this world who do terrible and evil things all the time. Perhaps think back on one of your cases that shocked you beyond imagination. How did you feel before you knew the truth versus after?”

Readjusting in his chair he turns away from you. “Continue.”

“There were cameras everywhere. It wouldn’t surprise me if Jaemin didn’t have a room that was for watching me during our downtime. No matter where I was in the house, I was being watched. The only place where there were no cameras was the hidden passageways. They’re not exactly escape friendly. There are a lot of rusted nails sticking up from the floorboards, broken glass, not to mention the dust and bugs.

“I favored those routes, but Jaemin learned this after a few failed attempts. As soon as he figured out my plan he had Nana sniff something of mine and she always led him directly to me…” you pause, closing your eyes slowly. “Sometimes he would taunt me. He would pretend as if he had no idea where I was, but I knew that was a lie. I knew that with the sound of her footprints walking next to him, her nails clicking against the white tiled floor. I tried to keep moving, to keep a good distance so I could at least make it to the first floor, but I was always caught. Always.”

“The last time we talked you had mentioned off the record that you had gotten hurt, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“How did you get hurt?”

Sighing, you give an I-don’t-know shrug. It wasn’t that you didn’t know, it was that there were plenty of times you ‘got hurt,’ but the incident he wants you to talk about is what you told him in front of Jeno, when you confessed shortly after that you tried to kill Jaemin. To say anything on record is certain doom.

“I’ll repeat the question,” he says sternly. “How did you get hurt?”

“Which time?”

“Pardon?” He looks confused.

“Which time are you referring too? There were a few cases that I needed bed rest before his twisted game started up again.” Snickering, “I guess I have to give him some credit. He didn’t want his little rabbit to be hurt while he hunted.”

“The last time you were hurt.” Haechan specifies.

“I got startled by how close he had gotten to me and tumbled down the stairs. I sprained my ankle and when he got me –” you pause.

It wasn’t as if these past two years of working things out with Jaemin have wiped everything he did off the face of the earth. It wasn’t as if you forgave him for keeping you away from your loved ones, but spending time with him, seeing him in almost the same light that you saw him when you first met… It almost was like a scar showing the first signs of healing, but talking to Haechan is like picking at the scar and opening it up.

The pain, the hurt, and psychological damage that you both faced resurfacing once more. What’s worse, he doesn’t believe you. He doesn’t believe anything that you’re saying and even if you could prove that it’s true… there’s no evidence…

Clearing his throat Haechan gestures for you to finish. “When he found me he linked the one end of the chain into my collar, and started to lead me away as if I was some animal on a leash. I told him I was hurt and he got mad. He brought up the rules and –”

Haechan interjects. “Rules?”

“There are seven rules to this game. Seven rules that you need to follow or else,” you stop again shocked. “Or else something bad would happen. It took me months to learn all the rules, but once I did I didn’t dare break them. I mean I was already being held prisoner, the logical thing that would happen if I break all the rules would be…”

“Death?” Haechan asks.

Shrugging you fidget in your seat. “I don’t think he would have ever killed me, but I wouldn’t have, during this time mind you, put it past him to destroy everything I loved so there was nothing else in the world I could have and hope for.”

The room falls silent. It was true you never tried to break every single rule in one round of the game. Yes, getting hurt is bad and it would hinder your escapes so you always tried to at least notify him of your injuries. Denying him once he caught you fair and square – with the help of his most loyal companion, was like whining after losing rock, paper, scissors. Jaemin never mentioned what he would do but the eeriness in his voice that first time he read you the rules still chills you to the bone.

 ⓗ  ⓤ  ⓝ  ⓣ  ⓔ  ⓡ

Everything around you is dark. A few minutes ago, Jaemin had placed a blindfold over your eyes and stated that he wanted to play a game with you. A strange aura started to radiate from him and immediately you crawled away from him. Something about this game didn’t feel right, though it hasn’t even started. Pulling you back to him by your ankles, your body pulls the freshly made covers down on your bed.

“Don’t make this harder on yourself, princess,” he whispers close to your ear. “This is going to be a fun game, you’ll see. Plus, you’ll be able to leave this room. Don’t you want this?”

“I want to go home,” you whisper.

Grabbing your arm from under you, he manages to flip you over to your back, climbing on top of you. Your blindfold exposes one of your eyes, but he simply pulls it back down. “What have I told you a million times?” He asks, taking both of your hands into his grasp. Something cold touches your skin and before you can put two and two together, Jaemin has your hands bound by a zip tie. “You are home.”

Tugging on your neck you try to escape Jaemin’s grasp, but it’s no use. He has a firm hold on the chain that is attached to a leather collar around your neck. The sounds of his loyal companions' nails click on your right hand side, while Jaemin is on your left a few feet ahead of you.

“Please Jaemin! Please, just let me go! I promise I won’t tell anyone what you’re doing, okay? I just want to go back home!” You beg.

“Princess, I’m not in the mood to argue with you over this matter. You are home, this is your home. Your home is with me.”

“Jaemin, please, you have to stop this! Why are you doing this? I thought you liked me! Is this what you do to someone that you like?”

“Oh, I don’t like you,” he stops walking and you bump into him. Feeling his hands run up your arms, you scrunch your shoulders close to your ears, visibly uncomfortable with the gesture. “I love you,” he kisses the top of your head. “I want us to be together forever. I want us to start a family, to get married, to grow old together.”

“Then why are you doing this?! Huh?!” You scream only to notice your voice echoes around you. Startled you look around like an imbecile. There is no way you can see anything with this blindfold, but it was a natural reaction to the sound of your voice.

“I’ve waited for people to return before,” his voice grows soft. “I’ve waited and waited for the people I love to return to me but you know what princess,” his voice leaves your side and ends up behind you. “They never came back. I waited and waited and waited like an idiot for someone who I loved to come back into my life. For that person who I cherished more than anything to save me and I was left alone!” He shouts causing you to shrink down in front of him. “But,” he clears his throat. “I’m a reasonable man. I want you to stay with me because you desire to, but until you see this, how about a little game?”

The black fabric that was tied around your head slowly unravels before you. Squinting at the brightly lit room your hands come up to cover your eyes. “Wh-Where am I?” Your voice comes out barely a whisper.

“Take a look around,” Jaemin moves back in front of you. “Now for these,” he digs into his pocket bringing out a Swiss Army knife and removes the zip ties from your wrists. “There we go.”

Rubbing your wrists, Jaemin steps to your left side allowing you to get a view of where you’re at, but what you see doesn’t make any sense. In front of you are four different hallways. All of which are the same light gray color, all of which appear to be the same length. The area you find yourself in is like the end of a road. A small enough area for someone to choose what path to go, but that’s about it.

“Wh-Where am I?” You start to shake.

“You’re at the starting line. Every time we play this game you will start here. But, before you begin, I think it’s best if we go over the premise of this game as well as the rules. So listen up, okay?” Nodding in shock you stare down each of the long hallways, your heart starting to beat faster and faster. “The premise of the game is for you to leave this underground maze and reach the main floor of the house. After you reach the main floor, you’re to leave the house and go through each of the three gates on the property.”

“We-We’re still at your grandmother’s house?”

“Yes. We haven’t left. This is an underground maze of hallways that my great-great-great grandfather had made during a time of war. This was to insure that the family would be able to escape unharmed if the home were to be invaded for any given reason.”

“B-But why am I down here?”

“To play a game, silly.” He chuckles. “Think of this as a HUGE escape room. There are plenty of secret passageways, doors that you can enter, and plenty of hallways that you can travel down,” he starts walking around the room, his eyes closing shut with a little smile on his face. “Grandmother and I liked to play hide and seek down here. She knew this labyrinth like the back of her hand. From generation after generation, all of the kids came down here to play, so that’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to play!” 

Your body starts to tremble uncontrollably. “I-I don’t want to play! Wh-What if I get lost? What if I can’t make it to the main floor?”

“The game will last for four hours. You have exactly four hours to get from down here, to upstairs and out of the house and off the property. After four hours, if you are down here, whichever door you’re near will have a green light above it. That is to signify the end of the game for that day, and for a meal and sleep break. You’ll hear an alarm and that is when you wake up, get dressed, have another meal, and get ready for another four hours to try to escape. This will continue until you get to the main floor, or if you get hurt. Simple, right?”

Shaking your head you back away from him and the strange hallways. “I don’t want to play this. I…I want to go back to that room.”

Tilting his head, his lips pucker out in a pout. “It’s either we play this game, or you’re trapped down here until you submit to me, forever.” He smiles brightly when he says forever, a cold chill raking across your body. “So, what’s it going to be? A shot at freedom, or a lifetime with me?”

He can’t be serious… This is just some joke that he’s trying to play. An ‘I got’cha’ moment where he says it’s all a joke and that he was just messing with you this whole time and you can pretend this nightmare never happened. No… no… this HAS TO BE a dream, no! A fucked up nightmare! There’s no way the man you were cuddled up against, after a beautiful romantic dinner, and a night of making love is the same sick sadistic monster in front of you. This has to be a nightmare…it has to be!

“Tik tok, princess, we don’t have all day.” He leans down so he can look into your eyes. “Should I explain the rules so you can understand better?”

“YES!” You squeak.

“Okay,” he moves away from you and starts walking back and forth, waving his arm as if he’s giving some grand speech. “Rule 1, 'the one being hunted may try to escape the property by any means necessary unless they are in a safe room, or have been injured. Rule 2, if the party being hunted finds themselves hurt they are to call out the safe word 'red' or push the red button that is located on the wall outside of all of the designated safe rooms signifying that the game is over.

“Rule 3, the hunter will give their prey a specified amount of time as a means for a head start before starting the hunt. They may extend or cut back on the amount of time given per round. Rule 4, it would be wise for the prey to keep themselves well-hidden and keep quiet to ensure the game does not end too soon. Rule 5, if the hunter catches their prey, the prey needs to come quietly as the round has ended. Rule 6, the hunter will then inspect the prey for any injuries once they have been captured. This is by no means a rule that can be skipped or looked past. Rule 7, if the prey tries to resist – the hunter will have to make their prey submit by any means necessary.”

Stopping right in front of you, a gentle smile on his face that makes him look like a sweet angel in disguise he asks, “do you understand the rules, princess?”

ⓗ  ⓤ  ⓝ  ⓣ  ⓔ  ⓡ

Plopping back in his chair Haechan stares at you in disbelief. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but instantly closes his mouth and looks away from you.

“I’m not making anything up. I played that sick game for months. I tried and tried and tried again to escape. Every time I thought I was so close to reaching the main floor he would randomly appear, with Nana by his side. It was only then I discovered that he was using her to help sniff me out. Then, I found the secret passageways and started to learn how to navigate them. The games were prolonged for more than just a day. He enjoyed it. But there was one thing I wasn’t going to do and that was to submit to him.”

“So then why did you submit to him and let him have his way with you?”

“I was at my wits end and I thought if I gave him the idea that I was his and his alone, he would just take me up to the main floor. But he saw right through me. After I made it to the last gate he said –”

“You mean after you tried to kill him with the pillow?”

Your jaw tightens. How could he just utter this out as if it’s okay? He promised to protect you. He promised to keep you safe and to make sure that nothing was going to happen and now it feels like he’s trying to throw you under the bus. Was he this mad and upset? Could he not see how terrible Jaemin was?!

Letting out a shaky breath your head lowers, “yes.”

“You may continue what you were saying prior.”

A tired pathetic laugh passes your lips. Running a hand through your hair, you peek up at the man sitting across from you. A man that was supposed to be your friend, but is now a complete stranger to you. “Does it even matter? You got what you wanted. It’s done, it’s over with. No matter what I say from here on out it won’t be taken seriously. I can scream it to the heavens that I had nothing to do with Jaemin’s death but no one is going to believe me because of what you just made me say. Which if I’m remembering correctly, was supposed to be kept private after I talked to you, at Jeno’s house, off the record that is.” You decide to throw in this tidbit of information into the recording. If he wanted to take you down, you were going to be sure he was going to get accosted in some shape or form too. “So,” you look up, eyes clouded with anger. You place your hands as far out in front of you as you possibly can. “Slap the cuffs on me. I know you want to. I know you want me to be in jail. You made that clear the other night.”

Haechan reaches forward and stops the recording on his phone. “You’re fucking ridiculous,” he hisses. “Do you think I want you behind bars? Do you think I want to take a mother away from her child? That’s not what’s going on here.”

“Then what is going on? You made me confess that I tried to end someone’s life! You think I don’t feel guilt over that? You think I didn’t look at him every day and realize what I tried to do? I never wanted to do that in the first place. I didn’t want to be put into a position where I would contemplate ending someone’s life. But I was forced into that position. My rights, my freedom, my life was taken from me. I tried fighting for it by getting out of that damn maze, but I couldn’t escape. No matter how many months I was down there I never won once. I never got close to getting to the front door until I thought he was gone.

“When I finally made it to the front door and past the first two gates and attempted to step across the line to freedom the last gate closed and he materialized out of nowhere. He said he knew what was going on because I changed my behavior. He knew everything so he pretended to die. It was just another sick game of his and I fell right into his trap.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you get married to him? Why were you with him all these years?” He shouts, tears running down his cheeks. “This is the part that I don’t understand. If he was so fucking terrible why did you stay?”

Seeing Haechan unravel before you has you pulling back your wrists. Sitting back into the chair more comfortably you let out a long exhausted breath. “I lost the will to fight, Haechan. I was tired. I was scared, I was disgusted with myself most of all. I ended up pregnant because I thought I could win. Like the stupid idiot I am, I thought by showing him what he believed was love I could be let out of my cage, but I was wrong and ended up pregnant all while simultaneously trapping myself in a whole new cage.”

“Why did the wedding even happen then? Why didn’t you give us a sign?”

“I was a zombie for the longest time. I didn’t feel anything. I was only alive and breathing because of the child I was carrying. Everything else didn’t matter to me. So, I put on a mask and played a role. Even if I wanted to say something, he would have stopped me or tried to switch the subject. I hesitated for the tiniest second while I was standing before the judge with him, his hands holding mine – for a millisecond I was going to tell the judge as quickly as possible I was being held against my will, but with a strong squeeze of his hand in mine, I knew he would stop me the moment I tried.”

Suddenly a knock is placed on the door. Haechan quickly wipes his tears away before standing up. “Give me a second. Do you need anything at all? A drink? Something to eat from the vending machine?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Walking out of the interrogation room, Haechan closes the door behind him seeing Mikayla is the culprit who interrupted him. “Why did you call me out here?” He rolls his eyes in annoyance. “We were finally getting somewhere.”

Mikayla tilts her head, “that’s not what I saw. By the way, she’s innocent. Her entire body language is screaming it so you can cut her some slack. Also, if someone was willing to work out the relationship after that shit show, they are in love. Whether or not it’s a strange form of Stockholm Syndrome is a topic for another day. But, that’s only a part of why I pulled you out here,” she hands Haechan a vanilla colored folder. “It seems you’re going to be working on this case for a little bit longer.”

“What do you,” he opens the folder, his eyes scanning over the documents. “Mean…?” He looks up shocked.

“I know,” she sighs. “Good luck, you’re going to need it.”

Slapping him on the back she takes her leave. “What the fuck did you do, Jaemin?” Haechan whispers.

Haechan returns to the room with a somber look on his face. He heads straight to the table, and presses the pause button again, starting the recording once more. “You mentioned things were getting better?” He asks tirelessly.

“U-Ummm, y-yes…” You eye him suspiciously. “When our son was born he actually was ready to turn himself in. Two months prior we had a discussion and he asked me how he could make everything up to me. I knew he was sorry. I could tell with just a glance into his eyes he regretted everything, but he did what he did. I wasn’t going to forgive and forget all the pain he caused just because he spoke the words ‘I’m sorry.’ I told him the only way that he could make up for even the smallest bit of what he did was to turn himself in. He said he would, but asked for one thing and that was to see the birth of his son.

“However, just after he saw his son for the first time he was talking about making arrangements for the two of us to be well taken care of in his absence. I knew what he was talking about. I knew why he was saying everything. He asked for one thing, I obliged and he was prepared to face the consequences, but I don’t know what came over me. I didn't want him to leave. I didn’t want him to be in prison miserable, and long for the life he could have had if he didn’t fuck it up in the first place. I told him I thought it would have made him crazier if I kept him away from his kid. So, I asked instead that he seek professional help and if he did I would keep his secret.

“If I’m being honest I wouldn’t have told anyone of his wrong doings. So, the next day he sought help and went every week to a therapist. In the beginning we both went and talked about what our issues were but afterwards it was Jaemin who needed the help. He never broke that promise to me. Then, on my birthday things started to change. I don’t know if you remember the birthday party he threw for me but that’s the moment I decided to give him a second chance.”

ⓗ  ⓤ  ⓝ  ⓣ  ⓔ  ⓡ

“Happy! Birthday! To! You!!!!” Everyone sings out.

Eyes brimming with tears you glance around at all of the smiling faces. Everyone showed up for your big day. Your mom, dad, all of Jaemin’s friends, and of course your sweet little guy all day has made it his mission to make you the happiest mom on the planet. Blowing out your candles your only wish is to have more days like this.

“Thanks everyone,” you wipe your eyes before any tears fall onto your cheeks. “But you really didn’t need to do this.”

“Are you kidding?” Chenle chuckles. “How else are we going to get free food?” He jokes.

“Plus, we technically didn’t do anything,” Renjun wraps his arm around Jaemin’s shoulders. “This guy right here planned everything. He just told all of us when and where and we showed up.”

“Y-You did this?” You ask Jaemin.

Scratching the back of his head he nods bashfully. “We haven’t really celebrated your birthday. I thought I would give you a birthday to remember.”

Without realizing you spring up from your chair and wrap him in a tight embrace. “Thank you, Jaemin, truly.”

His face falls into the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping around you tightly. “Anything for you…” He whispers. And just like that the moment was gone. “So, who wants cake?” He asks stepping away from you.

One by one your friends and parents come up for a slice of cake, laughing and smiling together as if these people were always meant to be in your life. As if this very moment was supposed to happen all along. Placing a hand on your shoulder, Jeno leans down, handing you a piece of cake.

“Happy Birthday,” he gives you a kiss on the cheek.

“Ehhh?!!” Haechan starts pointing. “What do we have here?! I didn’t know we could kiss the birthday girl!” He puts down his cake and charges towards you.

“N-No!! Haechan!” You start backing away.

“Don’t you dare run from me, woman!” He starts laughing while approaching you. “Now give your favorite person in the world a kiss,” he puckers his lips.

“YAH!!!!” You scream but a giggle comes from you when he starts chasing you around the backyard.

“Mama!!!” Your son giggles. “Run, mama!!! Run!!!”

“I’m trying, baby!!!”

“Al…Most!!!! THERE!!!!!”

Haechan sprints for you, reaching out his hand when you collide into a body knocking the person down. A low grunt comes from beneath you. Quickly scrambling off of the victim you see Jaemin was the person who you crashed into.

“Jaemin!” You squeak. “A-Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Snickering, he sits up smiling at you. “I’m fine, but I couldn’t let anyone else kiss you before I kissed you.”

Suddenly your heart skips a beat. His smile softens, his hand reaching out for yours as he pulls you down to him. Gulping your eyes scan his for some sign that he’s joking, that he wasn’t really going to kiss you especially not in front of everyone. Behind you you hear Haechan complaining that Jaemin stole you away, but his complaints are soon muffled by the pounding in your ears, your heart picking up speed the closer Jaemin’s lips get closer to you.

“Happy Birthday,” he whispers and just as your eyes flutter, and the tips of your noses touch, he slides his hand around your neck pulling you down to him. “I love you,” his warm minty breath cascades down onto your face and just when it feels like he’s going to kiss your lips he pulls you down further to give you a kiss on your forehead.

He chuckles, sliding away from you. “Go ahead, Haechan,” he winks at his friend. “Okay so who hasn’t gotten a piece of cake yet?” He asks everyone.

“Me daddy! Me!”

“What?!!! Well come here!” Jaemin scoops up your son into his arms and walks off with him.

“Well, now you’re all mine,” Haechan’s voice brings you back to the reality you’re about to face. Before you can even object, he plants a wet kiss on your cheek. “Finally!” He laughs. “Now I can get back to my cake!”

Sauntering off, head held high you’re left on the ground still in shock. Your mind races with thoughts you’ve kept quiet for the past five years. Feelings you thought were completely gone, but now have resurfaced. 

How? When?

“Need any help?”

Looking up, Jeno has his hand stretched out. “Uh, yeah, thanks.” You take hold of his hand and he helps you up.

“Don’t mind Haechan, he's just being…well, himself.” He laughs. “I guess I should say sorry for starting all of this.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. Really.”

“Now, I know that you haven’t opened any of your gifts yet, but I wanted to give you mine personally.” He holds out a cutely wrapped box with a sparkly pink bow wrapped around it. “It’s nothing much but I saw it and thought you’d like it.”

“Je-Jeno…” you feel tears starting to well up in your eyes again. “You didn’t need to get me anything. You’ve done so much already,” you unwrap the gift to find what looks like a jewelry box inside. “Wh-What is this?” You ask opening it.

Inside is a beautiful silver heart-shaped locket. Pulling it out, he instructs you to open it and when you do one half has a picture of your son, the other, a picture of yourself, but only you. A little surprised he takes the locket from your hands.

“I had asked Jaemin what I could get for you. He said he had no idea and to get you something that would make you happy. So I said what about a locket with all three of you inside, but he said to make it extra special for you and have it of you and your favorite person in the world.”

Jeno claps the latch for you, and the new piece of jewelry dangles around your neck. “He’s a dumbass,” you mumble.

“He is, but I didn’t want to overstep my boundaries.” Jeno laughs.

Reaching in, you hug Jeno tightly. “In any case, I love this. Thank you, Jeno.”

“No problem,” he hugs you back just as tight. “And just between the two of us, inside the box there are alternate pictures for you to put into the locket, but don’t tell the dumbass I told you.”

“I won’t!” You start giggling.

The rest of the party went by without a hitch. You couldn’t have spent your birthday any better than how you spent it today. Being around those who you’re close to and sharing such a beautiful memory will go down as one of your favorite birthday’s to date, and the best part, having your little guy part of this big day as well.

“Rest well, sweetie.” You kiss your son on the cheek.

“Night night mommy,” he yawns.

Quietly you exit his room, but not before turning on his nightlight. Closing the door halfway, you peek at him one more time before heading back downstairs. In search of your husband, you head straight for the kitchen where he was last seen hunched over doing the dishes. His back turned to you, you watch him quietly. Leaning your back against the wall, your hands grow clammy as you attempt to speak to him. For the past five years you’ve barely uttered a word to him that didn’t have a purpose behind it. Not knowing how to talk to him anymore you clear your throat before walking up to the kitchen table.

Turning around at the sound of you clearing your throat, his sleeves rolled up to the bend of his arm, an apron wrapped around his waist, Jaemin stares shocked to see you… alone, in the kitchen… with him. 

“Ummm, I… I thought I would tell you juniors in his room sleeping, so if you wanted to say goodnight you might have to do so at the door.” You mumble.

Nodding, Jaemin turns back to the dishes and continues. “I’ll do that. Thanks for letting me know.”

Your fingers run down your face, exasperatedly – pulling at your bottom lids, as they stop at your cheekbones. Was talking to him always so hard? You ask yourself. “I, uh, I wanted to say thanks for today. I really appreciate it. You didn’t have to go through all the trouble, but I’m truly grateful.”

Shaking his head he turns to place a dish on the drying rack where you see the faintest hint of a smile. “It was no trouble at all. You’re a terrific mom and I wanted to do something to celebrate you. There’s no need to thank me.”

“No,” you move from the kitchen table, and head straight for him. “I really do need to thank you and for more than just the party. I’ve given you a hard time these past couple of years and while I want to apologize, I still feel like because of what happened I shouldn’t.”

Placing down the dish cloth in his hands he turns to you. “You shouldn’t apologize. What I did… I should be on my knees everyday thanking you for allowing me to be in our son’s life.”

Holding up your hands you shake your head in protest. “I want to make things better between the two of us. I want our son to grow up in a healthy household. So, I believe in order to do this I should change the picture on the one side of the locket.”

Jaemin snickers and returns to washing the dishes. “Jeno told you what I said?”

“He did. While I don’t know how to feel exactly you deserve to be in the locket as well. I wouldn’t have been able to raise our son by myself. Those first few months when he wasn’t sleeping you stayed up with him every night so I could rest. You fed him, bathed him, and played with him more than I did and it was all because you saw how exhausted I was. You’ve sacrificed so much of yourself for him as well as me.”

“It’s the least I could do after everything. I’ve royally fucked up my life, your life, and our sons’ life.”

“Jaemin…” You whisper while your heart pounds in your ears.

Turning to face you his eyes widen when your lips press against his. You hear the dish cloth plop into the water and immediately after, Jaemin grabs hold of your upper arms and pushes you away from him.

“Pl-Please…” he keeps you at arms length, his head bowing down before you. “You don’t want… You can’t do this.”

“Why can’t I do this?”

“You’re not in the right headspace. What I’ve done to you, you shouldn’t even have to look at me unless absolutely needed. Please, just get some rest. You’ve had a long day.”

“No,” you place your hand on top of his. “I kissed you because I wanted to. And if you wouldn’t mind lowering your arms, I would like to kiss you again. That is, if you’re okay with it.”

Jaemin’s arms start to lower, but he keeps a firm hold of you. “I don’t deserve your kindness… I don’t deserve your… your…” his voice gets softer and softer as you draw closer to him.

“What I give you from here on out will be what you deserve for your actions going forward. I want us to have a clean slate,” your hand slides up his chest, causing him to shrink inward. “I want what could have been, what should be, and what may be a life with you.”

Your hand travels up from his neck, skates over his collar bone, to his neck as you pull him closer to you. His eyes flutter wildly as if he’s unsure if he should accept this or flee. Then again, your eyes were doing the same weird dance as his. His pulse pounds crazily against the palm of your hand, mirroring your own. A strange desire to feel his lips on yours, and possibly (at least you hope) yours on his. Mere inches apart, Jaemin’s hand slides onto your hip making you gasp, and before you know it, his lips land on yours. 

Not wasting a single second, you wrap your arms around his shoulders trapping him in your grasp. He complies, by wrapping you in a tight embrace as well. Your lips sliding across each other’s in a feverish kiss. It felt like after years of fighting, years of distance, years of hatred, pain and hidden lust — everything was pouring out from the two of you in one single moment.

Jaemin’s tongue skates across your bottom lip asking for entrance and as if you’ve been kissing him this whole time your lips part. The once sweet gentle kiss turns to hot then wet in a matter of seconds. Your tongues sliding across each other’s a battle for dominance ensues and has both of you breathing heavy. Jaemin’s lips wrap around your tongue and immediately you become putty in his hands. Your knees give way, and quickly he pushes you against the counter for support. Holding your face in his hands he switches between sucking the shit out of your tongue, and shoving his down your throat.

Eyes watering, you grip onto him for dear life while you try to keep your wits about you. Pulling back for air both of you breathe heavily. His skin kissed with redness as he stares into your eyes like he did that night when he stole your heart. The memory smacks you in the face and before you can think about anything else, you grab the hem of your shirt and rip it over your head – tossing it onto the floor next to the two of you.

Scrambling, Jaemin unties his apron from his waist, and with shaky fingers you unbutton his button down shirt until he swiftly throws it down with yours. Your bottom lip snags between your teeth as you stare at the still sexy man in front of you. His muscles, though smaller still have your legs clenching together tightly. Jaemin grabs the back of your neck and pulls you in for another kiss, this time softer, this time sweeter.

“Where to?” He mumbles against your lips.

“Your room?” You ask. “I don’t want to risk the chance of you know who seeing.”

“A little risk adds to the excitement of it all,” his lips travel from yours and down to your neck.

“And last time was my father, I don’t want this time to be our son.” Jaemin clamps down on your neck roughly causing you to moan. “J-Jaemin… please…” You beg.

Turning from you, he grabs hold of your hand and both of you rush out of the kitchen a lightness in your steps and a massive amount of giggles coming from you.

Maybe this can actually work out, just maybe…

The moment you enter Jaemin’s room, he closes the door behind you and locks it. Pressing you against it, his lips capture yours. The moment your lips touch, everything becomes blurry as you sink into the lust you’ve kept at bay. Jaemin’s hand grabs hold of your waist, pulling you closer to him. He nips your bottom lip before his lips travel to your cheeks and back down to your neck. Your eyes flutter, a smile rests on your face – lord knows how badly you’ve needed this moment, to feel someone touch you, kiss you, and caress you.

Suddenly you feel a sense of freedom. Looking down, you find your bra straps inching down past your shoulders. Giggling, you quirk a brow at Jaemin who smirks before stealing another kiss from you.

“I need to see your body again,” he confesses.

Wiggling out of your bra, he throws it across his room. His eyes go from yours down to your face, to your décolletage, and down to your breasts. Feeling a little shy, you cover yourself, but he grabs hold of your wrists pulling your arms apart.

“Never cover yourself. You’re still as beautiful as the first day I saw you,” he reassures.

“R-Really?” You ask, your face warming up by the second.

“Actually,” he takes a step back, his hand resting under his chin as he glances you over, a dark hunger in his gaze. “Now that I’m looking at you, I have to say no.”

Your head shoots up in shock, eyes instantly becoming watery. “Wh-What?”

“You’re even more beautiful than the last time I saw you.” He smiles sweetly. “It must be the glow of a strong, beautiful woman and mother,” he wraps an arm around you. “Honestly, you’re a lot hotter than before too.”

“Jae-Jaemin!!!!” You slap his bare chest lightly.

“If things go well,” he dips his head down placing a kiss at the center of your décolletage, “maybe we should try again – this time however, with both of us on board.” He glances up at you.

“You mean another little one?”

His lips slide to one of your breasts. Jaemin keeps a firm hold of you, your back arching up as he wraps his lips around your nipple. Nodding he sucks on the erect bud before giving it a playful nibble causing you to squeak. With one final suckle he pulls back smiling from ear to ear.

“That is, if you’re okay with the idea.”

Whether it was the crazy storm of emotions roaring through your body, the lust of wanting Jaemin to take you here and now, or deep down you would love to see your little boy have a brother or sister to play with – you eagerly wrap your arms around him, jumping up and down where you stand.

“Let’s do it!”

Jaemin chuckles as he watches you turn into the cutest person in the world before him. “Are you sure? I mean we could talk to Dr. Kwon and see if she –”

“Na Jaemin!” You state firmly. “If you do not drag me over to your bed and plow into me in the next two seconds I will never forgive you for ruining the moment!”

Before you even realize it, you’re dragged from the door and flung onto the bed with Jaemin crawling on top of you. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I ruined this moment. Your wish is my command, my love.”

ⓗ  ⓤ  ⓝ  ⓣ  ⓔ  ⓡ

Haechan covers his mouth as he turns from you. “So essentially you two –” he becomes quiet.

“Had sex and started to restore our relationship? Yes, we did.”

“But that was a long time ago. There is no saying things didn’t turn south once more.”

“It was not even three years ago, Haechan. How can you think that I would not only lie to you about what happened but actually hurt my husband? Yes, in the past I was in a different head space but that doesn’t mean that I was or am even remotely in the same headspace. We were once a family. I know what I was about to do was wrong. I know, I understand and I myself regret telling you. It was something that Jaemin and I promised we would never bring up again.”

Glancing your way, his face looking exhausted he asks, “did he really do those terrible things to you?”

Standing up you grab your purse. “If you want to know the specifics of Jaemin’s state of mind and what happened to not only myself but to him, I suggest talking to Dr. Kwon. I stopped seeing her personally after the first year. I got what I could from her, but Jaemin –  he kept his promise to me, he promised he would keep going so nothing like what he put me through would happen again, and he kept it! And I kept my promise as well by keeping my mouth shut of all the shitty things he did to me.

“The only people we ever told were Dr. Kwon, apparently Jeno (which I didn’t know Jaemin told him), and now you – or should I say and now anyone and everyone who will hear that stunt you pulled. You can be mad all you want, you can hate me, you can try to end my life yourself because what I did was terrible! But unless you were there, unless you went through what I did you have no fucking idea how badly I wanted to escape, how badly I wanted to get back to my life, to my parents!”

Opening your purse you take out one of Dr. Kwon’s business cards you took from her office. Slamming the card down onto the interrogation table in front of Haechan you turn to the door. “Call her before coming back to talk to me. I’m not running and I’m not hiding anymore. But I swear to you Haechan, I didn’t hurt him. I could never hurt him!”

You head to the door and just as you are stepping out Haechan calls your name, halting you before you take one more step. “The body,” he utters. “It’s not…it wasn’t,” he twitches with irritation. “The body wasn’t Jaemin and there are absolutely no traces of a dog there at all.”

Slowly you turn back to him, eyes widened and mouth hung open in shock. “What did you just say?”

“When I was called out I was handed that vanilla folder.” He looks down at the table before him, your eyes following as you both stare at the folder sitting haphazardly at the table's edge. “Inside is the report from not only the coroner, but also the officers on site and pictures of the scene. It’s of a person’s body, badly burnt, but they are not Jaemin’s remains. According to the coroner they seem to belong to someone by the name of, Michael Krest. Do you know who this person is?” He asks.

In that moment your body gives out and you crash to the floor, hard. “Shit!” Haechan rushes over. “Help! Please!” Within seconds multiple officers plow through the door, some almost running both you and Haechan over in their haste. “Please someone get me a water and damp towel. She just fell.” He orders the others.

“On it!” You hear one of them speak.

“You know who the man is don’t you?” Haechan asks you while you’re lifted off the floor and placed back in the chair. “Who is he?”

How can this be? You haven’t seen him in years. What was he doing at your house? Why was he at your house? And why is he dead?!

“Here’s the water!” The officer who left rushes over to you handing you the bottle but instead of taking it from him, he starts to freak out. “Ma’am, ma’am,” he gets down on his haunches trying to get you to respond. “Ma’am, please say something…”

“H…H…” you huff out the sound of the letter h.

“H?” He looks at Haechan who shrugs.

“He’s…He’s…” your body starts to tremble. “H-How?” You look at Haechan. “HOW?!” You scream as if you’re seconds from being killed – scaring Haechan, everyone in the room and those outside of it. “Why in the hell was he at our home? Why is he dead? How did he die?!!! What the fuck is going on?” You grab at the roots of your hair. “I dumped him!!!! I haven’t seen him since I left him?! Why the hell was he at my home?”

“He’s an ex?” Haechan glances down at the folder shocked.

“He never tried to contact me before. I never heard from him after I left him. Why was he at my house?” You ask Haechan, tears pouring from your eyes.

Scratching the back of his neck his eyes dart from the folder to you. “I believe I’m supposed to ask you that question.”

“Well how the fuck do I know?!” You scream once again – this time those not involved in the interrogation slowly start exiting the room, leaving Haechan alone to face your wrath. “Honestly,” your bottom lip quivers. “I haven’t seen him since I broke up with his cheating ass. There’s absolutely no reason for him to have been at my house. Hell, how did he even find me?!”

“There is a reason for him to have been at your house, and that reason is you. As to how he got there, I don’t know, did your parents meet him or something?”

“Yeah they met him once or twice in the later stages of our relationship. I thought he was going to be the one before I found him balls deep in some slut backstage.”

“Backstage?” Haechan raises a curious brow.

“He’s in a band, or was… I guess… When I saw him cheating on me I dumped him right then and there. I even cleared out his belongings from my apartment and left them at the front desk for him so I wouldn’t have to deal with him personally.”

“So you had an issue with him as well?”

Your head whips around towards Haechan, a furious glare in your eyes. Not again, not this time. He will NOT try to blame you for Michael’s death.

“Did I have an issue with him, yes I did. I was cheated on. I caught him in the act of cheating. I was pissed the fuck off – hence throwing his stuff into boxes and taking them down to the front desk. I didn’t hear from him after a simple apology note after a week of me catching him, with a simple ‘I’m sorry ~ Michael’ on it. I never once looked for him, or cared to look for him. But despite the dislike I have for him I would never wish any harm such as this to come to him. I swear, Haechan. I do not know why he was at our home.”

“I believe you,” he rubs the bridge of his nose. “But now we have a whole new set of problems. Why was he at your home in the first place? What happened to him prior to the fire before his death which appears to be smoke inhalation due to the fire. And where the fuck is Jaemin?”

ⓗ  ⓤ  ⓝ  ⓣ  ⓔ  ⓡ

Wiggling about in ecstasy on the couch, your hands at the bend of your knees while your legs are spread wide open for Jaemin – you let out whimper after whimper as he runs his fingers up and down your glistening folds. His eyes staring daggers into yours, he watches as you come undone before him.

“J-Jaemin,” you cry out. “Please!!!”

Snickering he brings his fingers up to his lips and one by one he slides his fingers into his mouth coating them in his saliva. When he’s finished he brings his fingers back down to your pulsating core and slides them over your sensitive nub.

“Does my baby need a little attention?” He asks you sweetly.

“Mmmm…” you respond, lips clenched tightly together.

With the flick of his middle finger he starts to toy with your clit. Closing your eyes tightly you do your best not to make a single sound that would wake your sleeping child. At night and his nap time are the only times the two of you manage to have time for yourselves. And while you were expecting a little quickie when your baby is asleep – the sensational feeling of Jaemin teasing and edging you has you thinking otherwise.

“Wow, look at this,” he grabs your attention. Holding up his hand he shows you how his fingers are now coated in your juices. “You’re so wet baby,” he smiles before popping each finger into his mouth. “So good,” he hums delightfully. “But I think you can do better, don’t you?”

“B-Better?” Your body starts to grow warm all over. The goosebumps you felt in the beginning have multiplied, your breathing starts to get faster turning into small pants. Your toes wiggle and curl the more he rubs his fingers over your bundle of nerves.

“Yes, a lot better, or should I say wetter?” He gives you the darkest smirk you’ve ever seen before plunging two of his fingers into you.

Your head and eyes roll back as your grip on your legs tighten. “Jae-Jaemin!!!” You squeak. Chucking with glee, he lowers his head down to your pulsing clit and slurps up all of your juices he’s caused to spill from you. “Shit!!!” You say a little too loudly.

“Shhh, baby, don’t wake him.” Jaemin warns. “I have another round planned for us during this break.” He smiles against you.

“Th-Then go easy on me, please…” you beg.

“I can’t do that, not when you’re this irresistible.”

And with that he dives down again smothering his face into your folds. His tongue and fingers working together at lightning speed to push you closer and closer to the edge. Your chest rises and falls quickly, your mouth hangs open as saliva trails down onto your chest. Small whimpers and moans keep coming from you the more Jaemin lapse over you and rams his fingers inside of you.

“Jae-Jae-Jae…” you can’t get out his whole name as your body starts to loosen up from your grip. Your hands unclenching from your knees has them lowering down to Jaemin, but with a quick reaction he catches one of your legs which causes you to stop.

Popping his head up for a second, his lips swollen and coated in your slick he gives your clit a little lick which has you clenching around his fingers. “Keep your legs up and open for me baby. As much as I wouldn’t mind being smothered by your thighs, I want to see your beautiful face when you cum, okay?”

“Shit!” You clench around his fingers once more.

“Tell me when I’ve found the spot, alright baby?”

“Mmmmmm…” you slide down further into the couch.

Curling his fingers inside of you, Jaemin feels around trying to find your most sensitive spot. Only having found it a few other times (purely by accident as he pounded his cock inside of you until you came around him) the exact location is still trying to be blueprinted. While one hand is coaxing you into bliss, his other hand hovers over your clit, his middle finger occasionally brushing against you.

“Jaemin!” You whine.

“Not until you tell me when I’ve gotten the right spot,” he pulls his fingers out of you, but not completely.

“WAIT!” You gasp, alarming him. “Slowly push them back in,” you instruct.

Doing as instructed, Jaemin pushes his fingers back inside of you until he feels your body shake below him. Not needing a word of confirmation he curls his fingers, and goes to town pushing you beyond your wildest dreams. In a matter of seconds you go from feeling wonderful, sweetly nestled into the couch – to scrambling to sit up a little, almost as if to get away while Jaemin’s fingers work you over from both inside and out.   

“Jae-Jae-Jae!!!” You start chanting. “Faster, faster!!!!!” Foregoing your clit, Jaemin holds onto his wrist and uses both his arms to shove his fingers inside of you. “Yes! Yes! Yes!!!” You scream behind your hand to keep your voice to a minimum.

Suddenly a burst from you has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, your body quivering and shaking. Your hands grip onto the couch while wet noises come from you and fill the room along with your panting.

“That’s my girl!!!!” Jaemin smiles proudly when he sees your pussy squirting, coating his forearm, fingers, shirt and lap. “I knew you could do it.”

As you come down from your high, Jaemin drinks up the remaining juices that drip from you before standing up. “Ready for round two?” He asks while unzipping his pants. Not saying a word you open your arms wide for him – inviting him into your space to do whatever he pleases. Sliding out of his jeans and briefs he runs his soaked fingers up and down his shaft while his bottom lip is trapped between his teeth. “Shit, baby…” he runs his other hand through his newly dyed blonde locks. “I could get off just staring at you like this.”

“No…” you pout and whine sitting up onto the couch. “I want you inside of me,” you pull him towards you, his hand moving away from his cock. “Deep,” you take hold of his length. “Deep,” you give the tip a little smooch. “Deep inside of me,” you state before wrapping your lips around him, sliding your mouth and tongue up and down his shaft coating it with your saliva.

“Fuck,” he curses. “Keep it up and I’ll need to eat you out again before I’m ready to go once more,” he chuckles.

Pulling back a sinister look on your face and a speck of mischief in your eyes you wiggle your tongue across the slit of his cock. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

“Neither would I,” he pulls back from you, dipping down for a kiss. “But like you said so sexily, I want to be buried deep,” he starts moving down to you, your body moving away allowing him more space on the couch. “Deep,” he hikes up one of your legs while he settles in between them. “Deep inside of you,” he mumbles against your lips as he slides his cock inside of you.

Hissing at the feeling of entering you, he resituates himself until he’s comfortable. “We’ll need a third, fourth, and fifth round tonight.” He chuckles and starts to move in and out of you. “Fuck baby,” he smiles while ramming his hip into yours, your hands instinctively go to his wrists as you hold on tight. “You feel so good…” he grunts and starts moving faster driving you deeper and deeper into the couch.

Your hips meet every single thrust of his pushing both of you further into sensuous bliss…

ⓗ  ⓤ  ⓝ  ⓣ  ⓔ  ⓡ

Sitting in the car next to Jeno your mind races while your fingers are snagged between your teeth. What the hell is really going on? Your leg shakes nervously as the conversation with Haechan replays before your eyes again and again. Jaemin…He’s… but if he was why hasn’t he shown himself yet? If he was alive he wouldn’t just leave you and his son alone, right?

As you draw closer to your old neighborhood the memories of that fateful day start to replay before your eyes…

‘Babe,’ you call out to Jaemin who was upstairs in his office. ‘Can you come down here please?’

‘Mama, where are we going?’ Tiny little hands tug on your shirt.

‘Well, we’re going to have a little picnic so I can tell daddy some good news!’ You boop your son's nose.

‘What news?’

Playfully putting your hands on your hips, you puff out your cheeks. ‘Not so fast you little trickster. You’ll know when daddy knows.’

Mocking your pose he pouts. ‘But I wanna know now!’ He whines.

‘What do you want to know, little man?’ Jaemin swoops down picking him up and causing both of you to giggle.

‘Mama has a secret to tell us!’ He squeals with laughter as Jaemin throws him over his shoulder.

‘A secret? What is this secret?’ His brows wiggle.

Sighing you shake your head and turn to the picnic basket you have in your hands. ‘Like father like son,’ you wave both of them off. ‘I was hoping you could spare the afternoon for a nice picnic at the park. We can bring Nana and the boys with us too!’

Huffing behind you, you leap forward at the familiar growl of discontent from Nana. ‘Speak of the devil (literally…)’ You whisper under your breath.

‘I…’ Jaemin puts your son down, sighing. ‘Why don’t you go outside and play with Nana and the boys, okay buddy?’

‘Okay!’ He squeaks and pats his tiny lap. ‘Come on Nana, let’s go play!’

Rushing out of the kitchen you watch your son and the happiest demon dog to ever walk the face of the earth, gleefully leave out the front door to the front yard.

‘Babe, I can’t go out this afternoon. I’m expecting a call from a client. Is there any way we can reschedule?’

‘I thought that call wasn’t going to be until tonight,’ your shoulders start to slump forward. ‘Can’t you just bring your cell phone and step away when the call comes through?’

‘It’s a business call, you know I don’t take them on my personal phone. Plus, it’s an important call. I can’t exactly bring on a new client while our son is screaming –” as if knowing his cue both of you jump at the sound of your son's laughter coming through the opened door. ‘See,’ he points to the door. ‘I can’t have that going on.’

‘But I mean… not even for two hours? You can’t spare us two hours?’

Running an exasperated hand through his hair, he looks from you to the basket, to your son. ‘Really babe, I’d love to but I can’t… Not this time…’

‘I see…’ you turn from him and grab the picnic basket. ‘I guess we’ll just go and give you the evening to have your business call. We’ll be back after dark.’ You head out of the kitchen and into the living room.

‘Babe! Please!’ Jaemin shouts behind you. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I understand, Jaemin.’ You wave him off. ‘Sweetie, head over to the car and I’ll meet you there.’ You shout to your son.

‘Why does daddy look sad?’ He stops immediately when he sees Jaemin’s solemn expression.

‘Daddy can’t join us, he has a very important phone call to make.’ You bend down to him and stroke the top of his head. ‘He said he’ll join us another day.’

‘B-But the sandwiches, the secret…’ he looks back at Jaemin. ‘Daddy we need to hear mama’s secret…’

Glancing at you, you quickly turn from Jaemin. ‘We’ll find out another time buddy. Don’t worry I’ll make sure mommy doesn’t forget.’

‘Promise?’ He walks up to Jaemin holding out his tiny pink finger.

‘I promise…’ Jaemin bends down to him and wraps his finger around his baby boy's finger. ‘Now, as the man I’m going to need you to protect your mom for me while we’re apart, okay?’ He asks. ‘If any strange person tries to approach her, what do you do?’

‘GET BACK YOU CREEPY MAN!!!!!!!’ Your son shouts loud enough to scare both you and Jaemin. ‘Right, daddy?!’ He asks proudly.

Holding back a laugh, you roll your eyes. ‘That’s right,’ he gives him a kiss on the cheek before standing up. ‘Really, I’m sorry. We’ll do this again soon, okay?’ His eyes quiver with uncertainty.

Nodding, you take hold of your little boy's hand. ‘Of course, I still have a secret to tell.’

‘I’ll see you when you get back sweetie,’ he wraps his arm around your waist bringing you in for a sweet kiss.

‘Maybe we’ll be back a little earlier than expected,’ you wink. ‘Okay, let’s get to the park before all the good swings are taken!’

‘YEAH!!!!!!!!’

‘Be safe!’ Jaemin shouts as you leave through the front door.

‘We will. We’ll be back in about two hours.’

‘I’ll be here!’ He waves before closing the door.

Just as you were heading for the garage you realize you left the bag that has a blanket and a few treats and toys for the dogs inside.

‘Sweetie, come back here for a second. Mommy forgot something inside.’ You call back to your son. He runs back up to you with the two boy dogs, Nana having walked into the home after you parted with Jaemin. ‘Do you remember where you left mommy’s bag with the blanket inside?’

‘I left it by the door.’ He points to the front door.

‘Okay we just need to –’

Shaking your head you stop the rest of that memory from resurfacing. In the matter of seconds a loud, powerful, gust of wind blasted through the door sending both you and your son back and the dogs running away. Covering him up with your body you kept him safe from what felt like a raging ball of fire spewing from inside of your home.

When you felt it was safe enough to move you told your little boy to run and to not look back, but you yourself looked back to see your beautiful home engulfed in a beastly fire. Tears poured down onto your face, your legs froze where you stood – your heart reaching out to where you knew Jaemin was still inside. Almost dragging you back to the fiery beast if not for your son’s small hand clenching your own – no one could have survived that… not even…

Pulling into his driveway Jeno parks his car, turns it off and immediately you hear a tired breath come from him. “What happened?” He turns to you. “What happened with Haechan? You’ve been eerily quiet since I picked you up. Did he say something? Or,” he pauses and gulps loudly. “Did he try to hurt you again?”

“Jeno,” you whisper quietly. “What are the odds of someone surviving that fire?”

Taken aback he takes off his seatbelt so he can turn to you. “What are you talking about? You were there… and I drove back a few days after. Your house is completely leveled. No one, not even Superman himself could have survived that fire.”

“The police found a body…”

“Yeah but we both knew that, remember? That’s why you were down there to talk about the body. Did they prove you didn’t do anything?” He takes hold of your hand worriedly. “Is this mess going to end?”

“Not even close,” slowly your head turns to Jeno, a wild look in your eyes. “The body they found wasn’t Jaemin’s. It was of Michael Krest…”

“Michael Krest, who the hell is that?”

“My ex-boyfriend.”

Jeno drops your hand from his ever so slowly as he leans back, his back now resting against his car door. “What the…”

“Jeno, I think Jaemin is alive… and I think… he had someone else trapped in that maze after me…”

Speechless, both you and Jeno sit in his car in an eerie silence. Both of your heads spinning out of control with the news that you’ve just found out and uttered. Jeno was right, no one could have possibly lived through that fire, hence Michael’s body. The real questions still remain: why was Michael at your home in the first place? Did Jaemin do something terrible to him? Did he lock him down in the maze as he did to you? What caused that explosion? Is Jaemin still alive and if so, how did he escape? Is Nana with him? If he did escape and is out there why hasn’t he come to get you and your son?

“We-We should get inside and you can tell me everything that happened at the precinct. Alright?” Jeno asks in a shaky voice. “None of this makes sense…”

“You’re telling me,” you sigh, undoing your seatbelt. “Haechan did say that he was going to stop by at the end of the week so maybe he’ll have found more information by then. I just… none of this makes any sense, Jeno. None of it…”

“I’m sorry,” he reaches out and places his hand on top of yours once more. “I’m sorry for everything he’s caused and is still causing. I should have said something years ago when I found out, but I…”

Shaking your head you pat the top of his hand. “It’s okay, I did this to myself. I chose him once, then hated him, chose him again, and now I just have question after question for him. Maybe when this is all said and done I’ll finally have all the answers to them, hopefully that is.”

“Yeah, hopefully...”

Jeno gets out of the car and quickly comes over to your side and opens the door for you, and helps you get out. Giving you a secure arm to lean against the two of you walk up to his house to find a piece of paper taped to his front door, with your name on it.

“Were you expecting someone?” Jeno asks, taking the paper and handing it to you while he opens the door.

“No,” you open it up. “I…”

Immediately all the blood drains from your face, and for the second time your knees give out and you fall to the ground.

“Yah!!!!” Jeno quickly grabs hold of you and pulls you back to your feet. “What happened? Are you okay? Here, let’s get you inside…”

“Jeno…” you start crying. “Jeno….”

“What happened? What hurts?” He leads you to the couch in his living room. Crouching down in front of you, he holds the side of your face in his hands as he looks at you terrified. “What is it?” Holding out the paper to him, it shakes and jiggles frantically in your grasp. “The note?” He asks. Taking it from you he opens it and just like you, the blood drains from his face and he falls back onto his butt on the floor. “What the fuck is going on?”

Rule 8, if the hunter finds himself incapable of being the hunter then the title of hunter goes to his former prey. When this change happens it is now the new hunters job to seek out the prey.

Come find me, hunter.

~ Jaemin

[novemberhush]

Things Not Lost in the Fire

@sterekdrabbles For the prompt words grateful, tie, work (14/6/24).

Stiles visiting Derek’s workplace wasn’t unusual. The teary eyes, tie-dyed Grateful Dead T-shirt, Daisy Dukes and - were those Crocs?? - definitely were.

“Stiles, what happened?”

“I’d just stepped out of the shower, barely wrapped a towel round myself, when a firefighter burst in and dragged me outside. The whole house was ablaze. Faulty wiring, they think. The old hippies next door loaned me the clothes. I’m so sorry, Derek, it’s all gone. Everything you loved. Gone. Again. I’m so sorry.”

“Stiles,” Derek murmured, hands coming up to cup his husband’s face tenderly. “Everything I love is right here, safe and sound.”

[quigonswife8]

Safe: Leon Kennedy x reader

Leon finds you half-dead and gets you to safety || gif creds: @swiftsalad

Warnings: blood, injury, swearing, nearly dying, sadness.

Leon deserves so much happiness, like god I just wanna comfort him and I wanna tell him how proud I am of him.

If Capcom doesn't let him be happy, I swear to god, I will pay them a little visit.

------

The sun has long since disappeared, leaving the moon as it's replacement. It creates an eerier environment- as now it's harder to see those after you.

It's been ten minutes since you were severely injured. The blood only coats your clothes more, and you fear you will die in a matter of minutes.

It's hard to focus on anything. You feel woozy and damn near collapsing- that would mean being open to dying. Not that it would be your fault. It doesn't even hurt- your side, that is. All you feel is numbness, and the overwhelming feeling of wanting to fall asleep.

"No." slips from your lips. Keeping pressure on the wound which is practically useless, you try and walk faster. "...I...can't...give up."

-------

You feel the hard ground against your knees as you fall to them. Your vision is hazy- restricting your ability to see. Your eyes droop, as you feel the need to welcome sleep. As much as you want to go on, you realise it's futile.

This is it for you. You're going to die in the middle of nowhere, your body probably set on fire like that poor cop Leon had told you about. You lift your head, only for it to drop, and for your eyes to focus on the ground.

You were strong. You got this far, at least. Now you'll be able to die knowing that you fought, though that still doesn't make things any better. As you feel yourself begin to give in- as you feel yourself begin to succumb to your wound- he comes to mind.

Then you pass out.

------

"Are you sure they're..."

"They're alright." the 27 year old replies softly. He looks over his shoulder a moment, to look at the young girl behind him. She smiles softly at him, and then looks forward.

It's been a long night. The day started out fine, but just went downhill from there. He had, and then lost you, in a matter of minutes. You had come up with the idea to lead a group of villagers away to protect himself and Ashley.

Leon is extremely worried for you, more than he can even show, more than he could possibly describe. You’re his partner, that he cares for so much He would do anything for you, he loves you more than he’s ever loved anyone.

"They have to be this way..." his expression is replaced with one of panic- his hand falls off the gun in his holster. Leon glances over at Ash, and then looks forward again.

"Shit."

Then, he runs over to the body on the ground. "(y/n)!"

There's no response, of course. "(y/n)." he kneels down in front of you, immediately noticing how you're not awake. The air suddenly becomes still- his heartbeat goes from steady, to uneven. It's like someone has taken a jackhammer and smashed it into his chest.

"Oh no..." Ashley mutters, covering her mouth with a hand. Leon is more focused on you to form some sort of response to her. "I'm sorry." he mutters, then listening to your heartbeat. It's very weak, but it's there.

You're dying, and he needs to do something before it's too late- "okay", blinking away tears, Leon begins to rip up a piece of his shirt, which he proceeds to press to the wound he'd found.

Then he lifts you into his arms, and stands. "We have to get somewhere safe." praying that he's done enough for now, he looks over at Ashley, "let's go."

-

He paces the room, while Ashley watches. Leon hasn't stopped pacing since getting you to this safe house, and he got you there over an hour ago.

Ashley had insisted he take a break, but he'd insisted on just pacing.

"They'll be fine Leon." she comforts, pulling her attention from him, and focusing it on you. Her heart hurts to see you this way. She considers you a close friend despite only meeting that day, and you feel the same towards her.

Though if you weren't her friend, she would still feel sympathy.

"I've seen them survive worse in these past couple of hours."

"And worse in the past." he adds on, continuing to pace. "...there was a lot of blood." he looks over at you. "...I hope I did enough."

"You did." Ashley replies, making sure to emphasize her words. "...you're the reason they’re alive, Leon."

If Ashley has learnt anything over these past couple of hours, it's that Leon would do anything for the people he cares about. She can see how much he cares for you, and that he would go to the ends of the earth for you. If that's not love, she doesn't know what is.

"Thank you Ashley." he nods to her, "...but..." though, he pauses. He doesn't want to dwell on things that may panic him more. So? he just continues to pace and push those thoughts away.

----

A day passes, until you finally wake. It's a little cold and the pain in your side has eased up thankfully.

Welcoming in the room as you open your eyes, you glance around. The first person you see is Ashley- she's fast asleep against the uncomfortable looking chair on the other side of the room.

Then, you look down- your eyes land on the large makeshift bandage wrapped around your torso.

Finally you look around for Leon. He comes into view straightaway, and he's pacing. How long were you out for, you wonder, and how are you even...alive?

"How long was I out...?" your throat is hoarse, and dry. Propping yourself up on the bed you realise you're on, you keep an eye on Leon. Leon who stops, and looks over at you.

The expression on his face quickly changes, and it's like he's now looking at a ghost. "(y/n)?" your name feels distant on his tongue, if that makes any sense. His lips ghost over the words, his eyes widening slightly.

"Yep." you reply, smiling over at him. "...it's me."

You're alive. After a whole day of worrying, of staying by your side and making sure that you would stay safe, here you are, finally awake. He can barely contain the tears in his eyes- he doesn't like crying in front of people, and usually hides his emotions anyway, so he does try to hide the tears.

Leon walks over to you, immediately kneeling down in front of you. His hands quickly finds yours, and then he brings them to his lips to pepper soft kisses on them. Leon's eyes have softened considerably, those same eyes seem on the verge of tears.

Leon is desperate to keep you close- he doesn't outwardly admit it, but he's too scared to let you go. To leave your side. He fears something may happen if he does, that you may simply disappear...and he just can't lose you.

"I'm here." he mutters. "I'm here, sweetheart."

Words faltering, and the tears fall from his eyes and drip onto your hands. Leon quickly looks away not wanting you to see him cry, and in all honesty, he feels pathetic. He should be strong- that's who he is. He shouldn't be weak like this, he shouldn't cry.

"Leon, it’s okay to cry..."

You glance over at Ashley a moment, noticing she's still asleep. You wouldn't want to wake her yet, she deserves this sleep. You pull your eyes away from the sleeping girl to look at Leon again.

Leon doesn't answer, but you can tell he's trying to fight back the emotions. You know how he is with his emotions, and the reason why he doesn't show them as much as he used to. Ever since the nightmare that happened in Raccoon city;

-

He'd confided in you, told you everything that happened when you were apart. That night, when you both returned to your apartment as you were there in the city [he’d managed to call you to tell you what was happening, and you’d left to get to him], you had just held him.

You promised to him you'd never let go. He'd clung onto you, he'd sobbed in your arms, broken down, and you had nearly cried yourself. To only be 21 and have to go through what he did would break someone, no wonder it broke him.

He had fallen asleep in your arms that night, and you had still held him. Your fingers through his hair as a soothing mechanism for him. Leon had wanted a fresh start with you after that, and god how he could have...but of course a wrench had to be thrown into his plans.

The wrench being the stupid government. Leon was forced to become an agent for them- if he didn't then the young girl he had helped save, Sherry, would be killed. This only broke your heart more when he'd returned and told you.

The months following were hard for him, training he would never forget. He was forced to endure exercises that drained him, forced him to 'harden up', though he'd already hardened up since Raccon City, if he's being honest.

It felt like a daze when he'd told you everything; how he was assigned by the president to rescue his daughter, aka Ashley, from the Los Illuminados. He'd told you he would be gone for...he didn't even know how long.

That's when you put your foot down. You'd told Leon you would be going with him- screw the government. Leon had tried to force you to stay back, but you reminded him that you had survived through raccoon city looking for him, and you had done a pretty good job at handling yourself. "I'm not letting you go alone, Leon. You should have someone with you."

By some surprise, the government had let you go.

-

"Leon..." you repeat. "...please look at me, sweetheart." The 27 year old doesn't, at first. You decide to put a hand on his cheek, in hopes your touch will get his attention "...please."

You smile when he turns to look at you...your smile immediately falters though, and then disappears. Leon is in tears- he looks on the verge of sobbing.

The only other time you've seen him this distraught was that night. It breaks your heart. "I nearly..." he starts, but immediately drops his head. "...I thought I was going to..." scootching slightly forward, you take one of your hands out of his to move to his hair.

Slowly you run your fingers through his messy hair;

"...but i'm here Leon. I'm here with you." he's the reason you're there in the first place. Leon buries his face into the bed, but oh how he wants to bury it in your shirt. To hear the way your heartbeat goes on- the way it's steady. The way it let's him know that you're alive.

"...and i'm not going anywhere..." you press a soft kiss to his head "...thanks to you."

Leon doesn't answer, he simply keeps his head down, as he continues to fight back the need to sob. "I love you." you mutter, as you press another kiss to his head.

His "I love you too." is so quiet, but you still hear him. His hand is still in yours, and you don't make a movement to take your hand that’s in his, away. Just wanting to give your love, and your attention, you fall silent.

Then, just like that, you're taken back to that night. When you had held him in your arms not caring how long it would be for. How you comforted him and let him know how much you loved him.

Right now you just want him to know that you're there, cause like you said: you’re not going anywhere.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

FINCH'S FRENZY (IV)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER V ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 8.7k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, guns & shootings, canon typical, death, vulgar language, gore, arguments, self-destructive behavior, PTSD, fluff at the end? Maybe?

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*  

Vividly, you remember the first time your father brought you into the Museum. You’d only been little, then, no more than ten but old enough to form lasting memories that would stick with you. Key moments in the spanning woven tapestry that grew and spread like roots with colors named ‘Happy’ and ‘Sad.’ A memory bank of images that never leave the screen behind your eyes. 

The statue had only been there because of the fire. 

Made by men’s hands, it really wasn't the responsibility of a Museum of Natural History, but this was a special case. The other, sister, building to this one was far off into the city and had been completely ablaze not a week prior by unknown circumstances. Your father’s friend had burned, along with many priceless artifacts that were housed there. But not this. 

The stone statue of the woman. Only here because it needed a place to rest before being sent out of state to a more… appropriate facility. They had flocked to her—marble scorched and covered in ash. Yet beautiful. Heavenly. Long arms reach up, a tiny bird held in the clutch of her stiff hands, presenting it to a far-off sky.

Cameras flash and eyes water.

“They’re calling her dīvīnā, Little One.” You had looked up at him, clutching onto your father’s shirt sleeve in wide innocence. He smiles softly.

“Di–” Your lips sputter and face heats, “Di-ven-a?” A small chuckle makes you huff, your expression souring. The man kneeled down, gripping under your pudgy chin and teasing.

“Not quite. Dee-veen-uh.” 

“What does that mean?” You stubbornly shake your head, confused, “why are they calling her that?” A kiss is planted on the top of your head, your father standing back up and laughing, as you once more look at the statue with wonder. Your eyes glitter.

“It is Latin, my Little Love,” that stone bird in her lifeless hands has a broken wing, yet still she prompts it to fly; as if she knows it can even though it’s impossible. “Divine.”

To be loved like a woman in stone was a rare thing. 

You’re not quite sure why you remember that when you turn a swift corner, slamming a shoulder into it as bitter tears track your cheeks. The bloody hand that steadies you leaves a trail of crimson behind as evidence. You don’t slow, not even when Gaz’s hat threatens to fly off your head at the break-neck pace you set yourself on.

“The park,” you breathe raggedly, frantic slams of your shoes bouncing off the corralling buildings at your side as you dart out of the tree line and into the city streets. If you had been focusing, you’d realize you have no idea where you are; utterly alone while the violent sounds of firing guns and screams continue to bounce off airwaves. Too close. Too loud. “Oh, God, the people.” 

Cold couldn’t begin to describe your temperature. Frigid perhaps; shaking with frozen terror that makes you lose feeling in your limbs. Buggy eyes snap to shadows and trash in the alleyway like they were grabbing at you with phantom intentions. 

You don’t know when you lost Kyle—when you’d taken a turn too fast and completely disappeared or something else along those lines. But in your chest, your stiff ribs almost welcomed the solitude. You had looked into his eyes. Stifling a loud sob, you increase the pace as the screams behind you loom over your head like a cloud. 

Amber. Meadows. Deathly serious.

“No, no, no…” How had the attackers known you’d be out in the city? On campus? That white Sudan…How? 

You miss the rapid calls of your name in the background, equally as desperate as your instincts. Loud and distinctly British. Separated by stone and mirky puddles. You increase your velocity; moving farther and farther away. Run, you just need to run. From everything. From everyone. 

But when you rush one last corner, the large form that stands there isn’t a made-up phantom of the past. It isn’t a statue.

Skirting to an immediate stop, your legs quiver from the force and the dragging of your heels; your fingertips wrenching into your aggravated injury in retaliation. Gasping, your leaking eyes widen even farther at the covered face. The few feet of precious separation from the man that also surprised at the sudden arrival. 

A dead second of slow-motion thoughts and nothingness that seems like a year ensues. Not a single atom bounces. Had he been waiting for you?

You slowly look down with white eyes to notice the assault rifle in his shifting hands; the nervousness of hips as they rotate weight into a form that would remind you of a football player if you bothered to engage with that thought. The air is stuck in your nose. Blood pressurizes itself forward. You swallow tersely, one shoe shifting to take a step back carefully. No words, no exchange of sentiments. 

Only a target and a man holding a gun. 

“I…” You trail, lips not responding as the rabid pulse in your ears threatens to drown you with blackness. At the click of a safety, you’re running like a rabbit again, darting back down the same way you came as bullets explode through the corner you rampage past. 

“Gaz!” The call bounces to the sky, ringing off buildings. Was it possible to die from adrenaline? Everything burns a bright shade of red in the corner of your vision. Shouts ring from behind, a race of scarlet and duty now taking place with feral implications. 

This was what being prey felt like, and you had thought you'd only have to experience that feeling once. 

“Gaz!” You scream again, ripping vocal cords, and ducking as a round goes directly above your head, slapping your hands to the cap with gasping fear. How many were out there? Had they set a perimeter if you decided to run? 

This was a level of professionalism you never expected from terrorists. 

Sprinting past an open turn, a hand snags out, jerking you by the jacket collar as a second covers your mouth. Screaming, you bite down as your heart stops, mercilessly slashing out an elbow into hardened ribs. A sharp hiss meets your ear before the shadows of the inside of a doorway overhang swallow you. 

Your back is slammed into the barrier, breath on your forehead as your hand snaps to the pen knife in your pocket like a whip. The shock of electricity down your spine is inconsequential to the hand that flies over your mouth. It tightens before your eyes can adjust properly through the tears; fingers flinching fast past layers of cotton canvas. 

Lips dance over the shell of your ear. “Stop moving.” 

The struggling of your limbs halts, eyebrows slightly losing the agonized furrow. Heat wafts from the body pressed into your own—great bouts of natural warmth that you hadn’t felt in years from another human being. Your heart skips for it; muscles lessen. 

Goosebumps raise the hair on the back of your neck.

You blink rapidly, staring into the nose of Sergeant Garrick with a shuttering inhale behind his grip. Sensing your slowing pulse, his hand lowers, moving back immediately. Long fingers find his lips, signifying silence with nothing more than a tap and a frown. There’s still blood over his visage, splattering up his stubble and along his cheeks like paint as his jaw clenches with meaning. 

Wheezing, you shake with both fear and a sliver of ease even as your back aches from the force that the Brit had exerted to drag you back. You swallow down saliva and nod a number of times; completely out of it. 

You’re moved behind him with a firm push—a part of you flinches at the sudden chill that overtakes you once more—as the yelling gets closer from beyond your hidey-hole, a bulky thumping over the concrete ground like hail. You stare at Gaz’s neck as he grabs the pistol from his belt, leaning on the part of the wall that juts out with a single shoulder and barely peeking out. 

He blinks slowly, not even looking at you as his lips thin. He looks merciless and loose at the same time.

The man sprints past, barely making it a few feet from where you watch with stilled breath before Kyle separates from the wall. One shot is all it takes, and the stranger doesn’t even scream before he hits the ground; a last round being driven between his skull plates to silence any sound. 

It all falls silent after the reverberations cease—gunpowder in your nose and burning your throat. But it doesn’t even matter, because you’re already being forced along with a heavy hand on your shoulder before the blood can pool over the ground.

“C’mon.” He speaks blankly, whatever sly teasing and amusement from earlier today completely gone. “Exfil point is a block away—we need to move.”

You can’t do much more than follow, your head screaming at you. 

“B-but what about…” Wanting to ask about the people who are back in the park, not quite understanding the horror yet. 

Sensing this, Kyle knows it’s better to respond briefly. 

“They’re dead.” You flinch at the truth, hearing the bitter reality settle in coupled with the man’s bluntness. Gaz sends a side-eye your way, looking down at you from his lashes. 

While not willing to offer any comfort at the moment, he twitches his nose and simply states, “You need to stay focused,” while noticing the far-off look in your eyes; the rapid pulse under his grip. 

Humming under his breath, he leads you on ever faster, knowledgeable of the quickly dwindling bullets in his mag. As you both speed walk, he speaks through his earpiece, telling Kit the streets before the far-away man replies with the correct route to the Exfil point. 

“How’s the VIP?” Kit asks, and Kyle grunts, not giving anything more than a quick response.

“Alive. We’re nearly there.” He inhales slowly. “Multiple civilians down in the park.” 

“Copy, 2-6. Keep en route.” Gaz scoffs under his breath, surveying his surroundings as the wails of sirens fly over buildings. This never should have happened.

This brought him back to Piccadilly Circus; the start of his entire counter with 141 and subsequent approval into their ranks. He’d seen many things over the course of his deployments to the Middle East—when he’d put a target on his back when disrupting Opium supply lines. He shouldn’t be here. He should be with his comrades. 

Not with a girl that seems to want to put herself in every dangerous situation known to man.

Even with all the mental strain and uncomfortable scenarios he’d been in…watching innocent people die never got any easier. 

He moves you along; muscles wound and gun in a tight grip. Gaz tries to tell himself that you couldn’t have possibly imagined this happening and with how you were acting that would be the truth with no doubt. He’d told you, though, hadn’t he? That’s what really gets his jaw stiff.

I told her. And she didn’t listen. Didn’t even try to think it over.

You shake under his grip, and a part of him feels pity, honestly, but right now the severity of the situation is more important. 

“Take a left,” he utters, forcing you on with hardened brown eyes. You nod again, throat closed so tight you’re unsure if speaking is the right decision. 

Everything is a mixture of hot and cold—fingers burning yet arms shaking from a lack of heat; teeth chattering. 

The both of you were close now, only a few more winding turns left and the van should be waiting with the driver; authorities taking care of the shooters left in the park still searching for you. But these alleyways were like a rat’s maze. 

“Keep close,” Kyle offers, “We don’t know who else is—”

“Right!” Your yell makes him turn sharply, knife barely grazing the flesh of his neck as he weaves. Brown eyes flair with anger, gun in his grip just as easily coming up to the armed assailant. 

The covered face held no weapon besides a combat knife; another person intent on taking your life. How many were out here?

“What in the…?” Gaz grunts, but before he can bring the pistol up to pull the trigger, the man’s other hand is grabbing his wrist, twisting it to the side mercilessly and away. 

The Brit hisses, throwing out his other arm to block the knife from once more coming down to settle in his neck. These people were many in number, but how was it that they were so rusty? Anyone with combat sense knew it was best to go low before going high when attacking with a knife. Before he can swipe the Bastard’s legs out from under him, locked in that familiar battle of wills, Gaz hopes in his head you don’t run off again. 

Starting to gain the upper hand with gritted teeth and sparking eyes, there’s a swift thunking of metal meeting flesh moments later. Blinking wildly, Kyle’s face goes confused, slightly losing grip in that mere second of oddity. 

Then he sees it.

“Bloody Christ.” Gaz gasps, gazing at his own reflection in the hilt of a small pen knife stuck in the eye of his attacker who subsequently begins screaming wildly, trying to back up until the Sergeant shakes out of his shock. 

The gun levels with a chest, and it was done before the killer could rip the blade from his eye.

Only one bullet was fired until the small click of an empty barrel signaled that Kyle had used up his last round. The man falls into a heap and lays on the floor, a puddle of crimson leaking from his guts as he gasps and coughs. 

Breathing heavily, there’s a pause in the air. Gaz looks back at you slowly, eyes wide with astonishment. 

You stare back, right hand quivering and twice as bloody then it had been before. You had made a mirror slice on your palm by holding the blade and releasing it to hurdle forward loyally. Not that you knew that. 

No words are exchanged as the gurgling from the body falls silent, only the air speaks in brushing breezes that ruffle your jacket. 

“2-6,” Gaz’s earpiece speaks, but for a moment he’s stuck gazing into your eyes as you stare at the body, lips parted and jaw slackened. You’d just… “2-6, do you copy? Extraction is waiting for you.” 

Brown eyes snap away, feet quickly shuffling to rip your penknife out from the socket and place it in his pants pocket. Later.

“On it, Actual. Keep ‘em ready—we’re coming in hot.”

“Rog. Laswell’s been informed, expect request for a full security unit comin’ the lady’s way.” Frowning, Kyle doesn’t respond, having to physically turn your body away from the scene and move you forward. 

His X12 is slipped back into his belt, useless entirely. 

“Love,” Gaz speaks to you, trying to see if you’d respond, but your eyes stay blankly ahead; tears frozen in time on your cheeks yet the hysteria is shown in the stumbling of your legs. The racing pulse under your skin makes the Brit concerned. A stiff sigh is released before a decision is made with creased eyes.

You’re being lifted with little warning, carried into a bridal hold as if you weighed no more than a piece of paper. You gasp briefly, sense coming back in a flash of a thrown knife and a wide brown gaze. 

“H-hey!” The exclamation is met with a click of a tongue and increased footfalls, Kyle keeping you close to his chest with wind whipping past your ears. But you can’t think beyond the defining moments. The bodies in the park. The man you helped kill. Had killed. 

You force down the bile in your throat as Gaz’s warm body encompasses you. 

I didn’t…I didn’t do that, did I? You hadn’t thrown that blade. Couldn’t have. That would make you…

Your face tightens, brows creasing like tin foil. 

The van was torn open with a loud bark of ‘get us the fuck out of here,’ and a dumping of you onto the back seat only three minutes later; you didn’t have the thought capacity along that short run to tell Gaz to keep his hands off of you, or to stop sending you those glances with his hidden thoughts. All you could do was try and keep back the flooding hysteria. 

Kyle shoves himself into the car, slamming the door.

“Go!” He hits his fist on the back of the front seat and the driver peels out of the open alleyway with a screech of tires. 

Breathing heavily, you blankly look outside to watch the rushing police cars and ambulances dart past in the opposite direction. The streets were so condensed with fleeing people that they were having a hard time getting through, the flickering flashes of red and blue lights trapped behind your eyelids even as you blink and shake your vision away. 

Jesus, how many people are dead right now? How many were dying?

“Take us back to Base,” Gaz’s harsh accent drives a spike into your ribs. Focus on that. Focus on hating him. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about the knife.

You force out through a shaking diaphragm. 

“Fuck no,” the air flips; driver sending a wide-eyed glance through the mirror as Kyle’s wound body stills like a flag on a stagnant day. You persuade a sneer to your lips.

Just make him angry. Make him yell at me—distract me. A vile form of self-destruction, sure, but you can’t start thinking about anything that just went down. 

You know how it would go if you had time to process. How the first year went after your father met his fate. You’d…You’d…

The Sergeant’s tone comes out in a snarl, “What’s that?” 

You’d never thought his file was true about that part. The hardheadedness and the opinionated side. When he was with you he always seemed level-headed; calm. Now though, it was like you didn’t have a grasp on his character like you thought you did. 

In the driver’s seat, Private Clancy clears his throat and grips the wheel tighter, not sure where to go.

“You heard me,” he had, Gaz’s ears had twitched at the curse—vulgar language not common from your tongue. “Fuck. No.” Eyes hard on his knee, you glare through very obvious fear. Kyle stares with venom lacing his silver tongue, lungs inflating. “I’m going home.”

“Home?” The Sergeant asks immediately, the car taking a left turn quickly. “Oh, my apologies, then,” he shakes his head, “Do you mean the exact place you’d be ambushed? Perhaps giving yourself up would be more your speed, Ma’am. Private,” Gaz glares into the rearview mirror, “Base, now.” 

“You do not get to dictate where I go, Garrick!” You scream, ripping his hat off your hair and pointing a finger with the same hand. A flash of amber replays in the back of your mind. Stop. Please, stop. “I am not going to the damn—!”

“People are dead!” Flinching, your shoulders hunch in faster than someone can blink, and brown eyes burn at you, jaw tight and teeth bared even as self-restraint tries to hold back a more poison-coated octave. The thin line between the two of you breaks. “Civilians!” You see Kyle take down a deep breath, his hands clenching. The next sentence is slow, but deep, “I don’t care what you bloody want because I’m not asking. I’m taking you in and getting a full Unit assigned.” Your heart freezes, lids going back in shock as sweat trails down your back. Gaz scoffs, turning away from you to run a hand over his hair. “Never should have agreed with Laswell and taken you on. I need to be with my team. You don’t listen!” 

Opening and closing your mouth, you stutter for an answer. 

“Take me home, Kyle,” your voice is breaking, but Gaz doesn’t even look in your direction; his lips firmly sealed as he glares at the headrest with his resting fist tapping periodically on his chin from the window-ledge. “Kyle.” 

He shakes his head to himself, and in a fit of infectious rage, you chuck his cap directly at his skull with a strong arm.

“You fucking pathetic twat! I just goddamn killed someone trying to save your useless life!” You bare your teeth and feel your throat constrict, eyes red and holding back a weeping deluge. Kyle growls under his breath as the hard brim slaps his temple, snatching it back mid-air. But his snapping reply stills on his lips when he meets your gaze head-on. His breath halts for a brief moment, recognizing the dwindling sense of control. Your words give him pause, and he doesn’t think you realize you’re looking into his eyes again as you rage. “I should have let the bastard tear your throat open—at least he’d be getting to do what I’ve always wanted since the moment you put a fucking gun to my head! For leaving my family a mess of blood and pain! Do…do you expect me to be thankful? For what?! All of this is your fault! Don’t you dare try and put the blame on me.” 

You’re sobbing, and the Sergeant watches silently, lips slightly parted as the driver gets more and more anxious. The car sputters along at a slow pace; everything relies on who wins this volatile battle. Brown eyes are stuck on the blatant brokenness of your gaze, for the first time able to study them without side-eyeing you or sneaking glances when you regard him by looking at his lips or nose. 

He’d never seen eyes like yours.

Blame? He didn’t blame you. Not…not entirely. But he was angry at you.

“For the love of God, I will chuck myself out of this car and sprint home—I don’t give a shit if I get shot at, Garrick. You and your little Task Force can go and fuck yourselves. You left my father with a hole in his head; made my mother leave me in a decaying house all alone and expected me to be okay with seeing my dad slump dead and feeling his blood drip off my chin. That fucking house.” Hands weaving through your locks, you wrench your eyes shut and the connection is severed in an instant, Gaz blinking back to the car with an unsteady inhalation of breath. His body is as still as a stone statue, fingers twitching when you finish with, “Fuck!” 

Foot stomping to the floor, you hunch forward, wailing in earnest as the blood on your hands makes you want to barf. Your head burns. Your throat aches. Everything felt like you were being rocked back and forth on a violent wave of self-loathing and hatred.  

“Stop it,” you rest your head between your knees, mouth open with desperate pants of air, “Fuck, p-please just stop it.”

No one knows what you’re referring to.

The car had parked a while ago—sitting in the parking lot far away from the park. Once a moment has passed, the Private only taps the wheel in the strangled moment of relative silence, and asks above your wet sobs, “Sir, I…Where are we going?” 

Kyle stares at you, opening his mouth to speak before it freezes and falls back shut. He swallows down the saliva in his throat before licking his lips, not looking at his cap before numbly putting it over his head with two hands.

“...Mansion.” The tires peel out slowly.

You don’t hear anything above the ringing in your ears; see above the red curtain settling. All you breathe down is death, and all you can think about is what went wrong. 

“It is Latin, my Little Love,” that stone bird in her lifeless hands has a broken wing, yet still she prompts it to fly; as if she knows it can even though it’s impossible. “Divine.”

Your nails dig into your scalp harder, lips trying to strangle back sounds of a breaking mind. But you can feel his eyes on you as your face burns, digging deep when ruffling fabric makes you tense. 

Everything is so loud—too bright. You can’t focus on calming down…you…you need to—

A bomber jacket settles over your head, the sides draping down to your ankles as you blink back with panic. You’re about to scream before you realize where you are. 

Park. Car. Gaz.

The penknife.

Darkness surrounds you, and body heat suggests someone sits close. On the ground, you see a combat boot peak in from the makeshift shroud, shifting from time to time with unease and an inability to stay still. A blessing and a curse. Your bursting lungs begin to slow as you take count of the laces, studying the color and the shine. Letting the calming low-light seep right into your brain as your fingertips loosen. 

A throat lightly clears, and they tense again. 

 “We…we’re nearly back, Ma’am.” You don’t answer. Gaz sighs quietly under his breath, pressing to the earpiece sitting in his canal. “Actual, change of plans. I need a full Unit to sweep the entire VIP’s property—we’re heading back now.”

“I don’t think Laswell will go for that, 2-6.” Kyle peeks at your hidden form—the way you shake so violently he was afraid you’d shatter like glass. He thinks about what you said, not able to peel his eyes away. Even as he tries to force it down, his heart hurts.

“Do it. I’m not takin’ her to Base.” The Sergeant tits his head down, hand clenched. “It’ll make this worse than it already is.”

“...Rog. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Copy, Mate. Keep me updated, yeah?” 

Gaz thinks back to the alleyway and the penknife in his pocket feels heavier than stone. He hadn’t needed help. That wasn’t pride, that was just a fact. The Brit wasn’t as large as Soap—certainly not Ghost—though he was still well above average for what a regular workout would give you. Even if he did value integrity far better than brute strength he wasn’t like a dull blade. 

He’d had it under control. 

So why had you done that? Even you had expressed confusion over the action. For all intensive purposes, you should have wanted the terrorist to win. It seemed like you did.

“Hell,” Kyle whispers, bushing off the dried blood on his cheeks with the back of his hand as the city falls away to a slower-paced town. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the internal guilt was beginning to form. 

He hadn’t meant to yell. 

It had been a while since he’d worked Protection, had forgotten how much he should regulate his emotions. Gaz was used to strong bands of brothers—tight-knit groups that went in like a shadow and left with nothing but a whisper. That was One-Four-One; his brothers. 

But…brown eyes slowly rove to stare. Listening to the struggling breath like an animal being choked by a collar. 

You’d already gone through so much, and although he could grab you by the arm and shake with all his might, it wouldn’t change the fact that you didn’t know how this worked. 

He needed to keep his gentle approach, not force you back into the hole you were intent on keeping in. Gaz needed to fix this. Tell you. Show you. 

He’d do it tonight and if his honesty didn’t work even a smidge then he’d send in his offer for re-assignment. He’d made a mistake, and he was never one to let that stand.

By the time the van was pulling into the iron gate, held open by a black-clothed soldier, the property was already swept and cleared. Gaz opens his door and steps out, leaving it open on the off chance you would follow him. You didn’t, of course. 

“Sergeant,” the man’s face was covered with a balaclava, large of shoulders and chest. A hand is presented, and Kyle takes it with a soft greeting.

“How’s it looking?” 

“Everything’s in order, Sir. Laswell took the time to set us up back in town,” there’s a glance sent your way, and Kyle restrains himself from sidestepping and blocking the man’s view. His instincts were still rampant and he shifted his legs restlessly. “Figured the Lady wouldn’t be too keen on letting us stay here—can’t do anything without the inheritor's permission.”

Gaz blinks at that but only adds it to his databank. He knew you had control over who you allowed on the property, but hadn’t known you were the inheritor. 

Why hadn’t the estate gone to the wife? 

“Good to hear,” Kyle smiles slightly, tapping the side of his fist with the soldiers. “I can take it from here, yeah? See to it your men are comfortable and keep the radio up—we don’t know what else might be going on.”

“Copy, Sir.” When Gaz switches weight, looking into the interior of the car he’s already addressing you with a calm demeanor; ready to coax you out with a good chunk of his gut filled with apprehension. 

“Love…can you—” The car was empty, and before Kyle could begin to snap to attention, the black of his bomber jacket slashes his wide vision. A deep sigh falls after a second of exasperation, sarcasm about to be called over the air. Hands rub over eyes before itching at his cheek with a muttered, “Keep it light, Garrick. Sky’s not falling just yet.”  

He follows, concern growing steadily. 

You had killed a man. Lived through your first shootout. How was he supposed to make this work? You already hated him…what could he say? 

Gaz knew for a fact that it hadn’t fully hit you yet, and when it did, he was afraid you would break apart even more. But why was he so conflicted about staying or leaving?

Your feet carry you to the house quickly, head down and extra jacket over your shoulders that you don’t bother to flick off. Shoving past leaving soldiers that give you stiff looks as you pass makes your lungs hitch. You didn’t want them on your property—you didn’t know them. 

“Love!” Kyle calls your name from behind, and you hear his jogging feet catching up as your fast-snapping eyes find the black void in the bushes. 

The cat. 

Green eyes brush against your, slitted pupils corralled by overgrown foliage. It blinks slowly, and you force your head forward once more; un-cut hand snapping to your mouth to keep down the frantic way your lungs jump. 

Doors were of no obstacle to you, you shove through them with a hunched shoulder, letting it swing open and hit the wall with a defining bang of oak. 

“Hey! Slow down, would you?” Ripping your shoes off, you speed across the foyer, heart distressed. Before long your body points you down the hallway. 

Gaz rushes after, heart beating fast as your form disappears down a sharp corner that he grabs to swing himself past.

The black of his bomber jacket is a temporary sight before the barrier of a door slams shut, swallowing you whole. 

“I need to…!” Kyle halts to a quick stop, arms at his sides as his button-up stays rolled up at his elbows. Brown eyes close tightly.

“...Apologize.” He places a hand on his head, tilting back his neck, “Shit.”

—

By the time you realized you weren't in your room, it had already been too late to turn back around. 

You gradually come back into reality after a fitful anxiety-induced fatigue on your father’s office couch. Hours had passed, judging by the pitch darkness of the room; the temperature was already colder than you usually were used to. 

Eyes stare at the ceiling for what seems like an eternity, and it’s sad to think the only time that everything in your head calms down is when you can listen to the pipes in the walls. Creaking wood. Forcing yourself up, you hiss sharply, lids wrenching shut at the zinging pain up your right arm. 

Ripping your hand up, you blink rapidly through the achiness of your red eyes to stare down at the dried wounds. The twin gashes across your palm crack as you flex your fingers, crimson lines opening. Even as your sigh builds, you only watch them begin to bleed at the movement; not relaxing your muscles for the single purpose of not caring enough to. 

The skin was agitated. Itchy as well. 

I sent a knife into a man’s eye. You still, lips parted and numb. I watched people die one after the other because I went outside. This is…this is my fault. 

Kyle had been right. You don’t listen. You’re stubborn, vengeful. 

“But I can’t be anything else.” Whispers bounce off the walls; the coffee table ahead of you and the gargantuan desk behind where you’d play hide and seek in the gaps. 

You’d run to your father's office to try and find comfort you know you’d find nowhere else. Pull it from memories considering it was all you had left. 

But you can’t pull comfort for this. Part of you wants to put on the news—know the count of the dead. The other part says that would be worse. 

“Because of me.” You mumble, standing on unsteady legs that threaten to buckle. Your body is sore from all the running; fleeing from bullets. 

No, not because of you. 

Sucking in a slow breath and listening to the creaking of the house, the ghosts, you clear your throat to dispel the mucus. 

Because of your father. Mind racing, this event puts a hammer into the stained glass that was your family legacy. Before you could deny it—you could say it was Samson Row that was judge, jury, and executioner; while that was still true, what kind of people would fire on innocent bystanders to try and nail a single target? 

Turning, you think back to Laswell as your tongue licks at the dryness of your lips and your eyes move to attempt and paint a picture. You stop to look at the desk.

“Your father had sensitive information that searches of his shipping lot and museum office didn’t offer any leads on. While you’re spending more time at your home, I want you to look for them. Anything that involves other dealers or a location to a hub.”

Taking down a slow breath, the walls were suddenly suffocating you. Your father didn’t…he…he couldn’t have.

Your right hand pulses mockingly. 

Without knowing, your feet pad over the floor to his desk quietly, standing behind the chair and over the dust-hidden mahogany. The old lamp on the corner; the strewn papers that have faded ink and old script haunt you as you slide your vision over them. 

Museum exhibits that never got installed, bank statements, and more important documents pertaining to his job. You skim over them, bloody fingers leaving streaks in their delirious acts. 

Feeling the fiber under your flesh, you push them aside one by one. 

Nothing of interest. 

Your throat closes for no reason, skin goes slick with perspiration dribbling down your brow. Nothing, see. 

Blood drops down to the table as you hold your hand over it, loose and limp at the wrist but violently quivering. You watch. And then you start to open the drawers with a heated fervor, wiping at your forehead and leaving streaks of crimson. 

“There’s nothing.” You gasp. “Nothing. They’re dead because of nothing. I killed a man for nothing.” 

Guns fire in your mind; people scream like you had when sitting in that chair in a basement. Gaz’s eyes boring into you. You’d looked into his eyes not once but twice—the second of your own volition.  

“Nothing?!” Folders are grabbed and slammed to the desktop, exploding with a poof of dust that leaves you turning and sneezing violently before you stifle yourself. 

You’re ripping them open one after the other, burning in the back of your nose. A knife keeps releasing from your hand. A shove on your shoulder as a bullet hits a trash can that was used for cover. 

The black bomber jacket that had fallen off in your slumber and was now sitting in a heap on the floor. 

Innocent people. 

Fuck, they were screaming at you.

“There can’t be nothing.” You seethe, trepidation both your drug and your double-edged sword…what if you did find something? “There needs to—”

“Love…?” Air silences. “Are you alright in there?” 

There’s a shadow under the door, barely discernible over the darkness as you shiver. How long had he been there? How…how long had you been in here? 

Your fingers stop their aggressive tossing and you blink through the dizziness of your brain. Stumbling back a step or two, your hip bumps into the chair. Instantly, the large thing skids over the floor with its wooden legs as an ear-ringing screech as you grab onto the arm to stop from falling. Your skull pounded. 

Quick, loud, knocking starts. 

“Ma’am? Ma’am!” Breathing quickly, your body shakes at the noise, the sound so similar to the sounds in the park. 

“S—,” your voice breaks, “Stop fucking knocking!” 

It stops instantly, and you pause there for more than a few moments glaring at the floor; brows tight and teeth biting into your lip. The quiet sound of a hesitant voice echoes after a minute.

“Could you open the door for me?” Gaz clears his throat as you stare at the wooden barrier with glinting eyes. An attempt at a kind chuckle. “...Been getting cramps in my neck from leanin’ back against the wall all night. And I, uh,” you close your eyes, “I think we need to have a conversation, Love. A real one, if you follow me.” 

You were tired, incomparably so, but even you knew he was right. What he had yelled at you in the car was true. All of this had gotten put into place with as much consideration as a mallet gives a nail. 

And Kyle had known all along what would come of it. A sliver of guilt stabs you. 

You didn’t have to like him—didn’t have to forgive him, because you probably never would—but you had to begin to listen. That didn’t mean stop pushing back, it just meant that his expertise was needed for the safety of the city as a whole. 

The city with the museum that your father had loved dearly.

Feet shuffling, you move around the desk, side-eyeing the now bloody contents atop with a numb expression as you move to the door. You had locked it, apparently. 

Not that you remember. 

Hand stuttering above the handle, you stop and listen with straining ears. A shifting body calls to the Sergeant’s anxiousness at your non-visibility. The erratic behavior. Resting your forehead over the wood, you truly wonder if there would ever be a time you were used to someone else living in this house. 

This house. Your house. 

It didn’t feel right for anyone to live here. 

“Are you there, Ma’am?” You open the door stiffly. 

Kyle’s face is tense, you can tell just by looking at his chin; how he holds his shoulder back like that. There’s a split-second where you both study each other—you, noticing how he’s still just as dirty as you, and him, seeing the focal point of the streak of red blood on your forehead. 

“What, Garrick,” you speak as he sees the ruffled nature of your clothes. Defeated muscles. “Here to tell me you were right?”

His legs cease their movements, mouth half-open with apologizing sentiments now snapping shut with a click of teeth. But not from anger. Concern. Why were you bleeding? Had he missed you being injured? Kyle had sworn you were alright—no shots had ever met their mark.

He’s touching you before he remembers to ask first.

You’re being swept back into the room and plopped down on the couch with no warning, and you don’t fight it. Warm hands grip your shoulders and squeeze quickly.

“Bloody hell,” Gaz rushes to the desk to flick on the lamp, “Why didn’t you tell me you were hit?!” Your eyes snap shut, blinking rapidly at the light.

Rays cascade over the room, the dust in the air being sent into dance classes with how they flew. Lids narrowed at the floor, your socked feet shift over the old rug, but you offered no answer over a soft shrug of your shoulders. 

Kyle gawks at the back of your head, rushing back over to check you over as he bends on one knee. Hesitating for only a moment, he first looks at your head, tilting it back and forth with a hand under your chin and the other by your ear. You’re cold under his grip and that makes him even more nervous.

How much blood had you lost?

“I need you to tell me where it—”

“Hand.” He blinks, staring at you for a second with surprise. Gazing down he sees the spasming limb with a small inhalation of air. 

You let him slowly move back, all digits moving to encompass the afflicted area. But he pauses. 

Frowning, you rub the side of your face into your shoulder as you hear the man suck down a sigh. Confusion lingers in your heart, but you care little at the moment. 

“May I?” In between the brief palpitations of your most important muscle, you forget for a second who’s in front of you. You forget the Sergeant. The Brit. 

Your face softens.

When had someone last asked you that? 

Your lids slide open and closed in surprise as Kyle waits, outwardly patient with an internal raging heart. 

“You’re already here, aren’t you?” The room is bathed in warm light and quiet creaking. Two people who don’t know how to act around one another suddenly suffocated with too many words. So they say nothing. 

Kyle grips your hand so softly that you have to hold your breath in order to keep sane. You want to rip it back from how warm he is.

“Christ, Love, you’re freezing.” It’s a low comment, passing more for a whisper as brown eyes snap up to you. But slowly he shifts your flesh with the dig of his firm fingers, running over the bone to check for internal damage until he flips it over entirely to see the real problem area. 

He holds in a sharp gasp. Tries to keep his cool as you stare at his bobbing neck.

“That…this’ll need stitches.” You hum. Gaze sliding to his face you say what first comes to mind as you draw a comparison to his twin scratches. You end up wondering if you’re drunk again.

“We match.” you point casually to Kyle’s left cheek. His were smaller than yours, of course. 

Gaz focuses on your eyes even as you choose not to look at him directly. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” He attempts a weak chuckle, still holding your hands with the hope that you might take some of his heat for your own. Why were you so cold? “I suppose we do. Why don’t you come with me and I can get you all cared for, yeah?” 

You weren’t acting right, and for an instant, the Sergeant misses your snarky attitude. Anything was better than that bitter nothingness living in your expression. He was shocked. The woman who he’d had this iron impression of was using a chisel on it every instant she could. 

It only made him feel more and more like a prick. 

Fucking hell, Garrick. This is a whole different game. 

“How’d you get them, then?” You were in shock, speaking whatever came to mind with a far-off stare dunked in alarm. Kyle had seen it all before and it didn’t matter who it was plastered on. It was his duty to help. 

“Tell you what, Ma’am,” he stands, helping you up by the arm and sending a soft smile your way. “We’ll get you all proper again, and I’ll tell you all about my days in the police force. I wager you’d like that. History and all.”

“I like old history,” leading you out the door with a hand over your back that rubs small circles, he traverses the darkness and leads you to the shining light of his room one step at a time. 

He sends an amused glance, “That’s my old history. Pretty good, too, in my opinion.” 

You shiver again, and Kyle draws you a little closer, frowning tight. Your eye bore into the ground with cold sweat on your temple. He moves for a second to wipe it away but stops himself with a tight closing of his lids.

“Why would I care about that?”

“You just asked me, Love.” He reminds softly, turning the corner slowly as the two of your feet make the floorboards scream. This house was never quiet was it?

“Humph,” your sound bounces off the walls when Gaz makes it to his chosen room, the door already open and the light on.

He moves you to the cleanly made bed and lets you sit down while he walks to one of his bags by the wardrobe. A medical kit is pulled out, yet he keeps sending looks behind him to stare at you. 

Legs hanging off the bed, you can’t really tell if you’re here or if this is some strange point between delirium. For certain, though, you don’t feel good. 

Bleeding like a stuck pig and trying to keep your vomit down. It was all a state of far off sea-water. A roaring of waves in the back of your head. But there was a realization as Gaz shifts in front of you once more, face creased.

It is the realization that no matter what you do or what you try and change, you will always just be this. Stuck; stationary. Left to waste like the mansion itself—breaking down year after year until all that’s left is rotting wood and shattered stone. Blades of grass in the cracks and termites with fat bellies. But what was even worse was that you didn’t know how to function without this decay in your skin. The quiet rage pulled down beams of sanity. The agony a network of scuffed floors and dented walls. Shut curtains. Abandoned rooms and memories that shutter with every gust of wind. Ghosts in the hallways. 

Was it all real, or was it just a pigheaded attempt to find something to relate to? There was truth to it—there had to be.

This was home. 

This was you. 

This would always be you.

“You asked how I got my scars,” Kyle speaks and you notice his hand back in yours, skin tingling not from the medicated wipe he runs over your palm like a feather, but rather from the sensation of touch. 

Warm. It was a blanket of pure silk. A stuffed animal set into the dryer. How had you ever forgotten what that felt like? 

You hum an acknowledgment, flinching when the chemicals start to turn your hand numb. Gaz lightly shushes you, squeezing your wrist. 

For some reason, your nose starts burning at the action. 

“It’ll be okay, Sweetheart.” He stands, grabbing a chair from the corner table and bringing it over to place in front of your knees. The medical bag is placed beside you, various contents being taken out as elastic gloves are pulled over long fingers. “Where should I start then,” Kyle stares at your sad-tilted eyebrows. “The moment it happened or how I put myself into that bloody stupid situation?”

“Situation?” You utter, scoffing without venom, “Sounds pretty serious there, Sergeant.”

“Oh, trust me it was,” the way he places your hand in his lap is deeply intimate, disgustingly so, but even as you want to rage and shove him off, it hurts to think too deeply. “Terribly serious—I was undercover, y’know.” 

His soft expression holds you as the first stitch pierces your flesh. Pressure, no more. You frown, rubbing your eyes with your free limb. He pauses and glances your way, finding no pain, he continues on with the second, deft hold creating perfect knots.

“Ever done that, then? All your snooping around, I wouldn’t be surprised.” A smirk comes and goes on your lips. “Certainly seem the type, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Can’t say I have.” 

“Hm, well,” he chuckles. “Anyways, you see, it was a drug bust during my third year with the Blue. Opium. Sizable Mates running that whole operation. They found me out two bloody weeks in.” You blink to slight surprise, shoulders losing their hunch as you now have something else to draw your attention to. “Hoped to at least last a month, to be honest with you.”

“You’re insane.”

“Ah, probably, Ma’am.” Taking notice of the blood staining Gaz’s cap from earlier today when it was on your head, you bite your lip as the story continues. “I was held up in a shipping crate for a whole damn week, and this one fellow,” Kyle moves one hand up and your vision snaps to it, seeing him motion to his chin with a ‘U’ shaped hold, “proper beard on him, tells me I need to give up who I was.” 

“...Did you?” Lip quirking, the Sergeant finishes off the first row of sutures, grabbing another wipe and cleaning the area. He was happy you were focusing, at least, but you were still too shaky for his liking.

“Hell no—Bastard sucker-punched me. Happened to have a nice ring on his finger. Can only pray for whoever was married to the bloke. Ripped my cheek open something nasty, enough to make it scar over.” Both of you are surprised by the huff of laughter that jerks your chest. 

A pause as Kyle feels his chest go loose. That wasn’t a bad sound at all.

“Well, that’s it,” Gaz admits softly, halfway done with the second, smaller cut, “can’t say it’s all too amazing.”

“Because getting tortured by drug lords isn’t what you consider amazing, apparently.” You cough through your embarrassment, feeling slightly back to normal. Taking down a deep breath, you stare down at your palm as it gets sewn back together again. Hearing how the skin squelches.

“Well,” the Brit holds you delicately, a swelling of pride in his chest, “I’ve done a few bigger things than busting the likes of them. Stuff that meant a great deal more in the moment.”

The rest of the sutures and cleaning is done in total silence, and your lungs are suddenly able to work properly again. Kyle places a thick gauze pad atop the marks, holding it down while taking a roll of bandages; beginning to unravel them. 

His thumb is holding the end down when he whispers.

“Why didn’t you want my help?” You ran from him in the park—hid away when you were injured. None of his teammates would do that.

She’s not them. 

With a skip to your pulse, you hold your lips shut with an iron rod. That was the question, wasn’t it? You had run from the only person in the world that seemed to care whether you lived or died.

Peering at your palm, you speak the only truth you know, “Because then I’d have to admit something was wrong.”

There are more things you want to say to him—horrible things; pleas and nonsense—but in the end you just turn to stare at his neck with blood on your hand and stitches stuck in your flesh. 

Kyle’s eyebrows peel up, holding your hand in his own and suddenly more in tune with you than he ever had been before. 

“I…” He starts but doesn’t finish. Not for a long while. “I’m sorry, Love. For all of it. But you need to start listening to the things that I tell you—I’m here to keep you alive. It’s my first and my only priority. You need to be able to live with that.” 

He wasn’t sure there was more he could say. Your lips pull in, pressure living in your chest like an infection. 

“I hate you,” you say, eyes watering. Blood on your forehead.

“I know,” he responds, slowly, softly; wishing for a moment you’d look into his eyes again so you’d realize he’s finally starting to understand. 

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