#but when i do fall apart i just can’t stop

[jayparked]

traditionally nontraditional | park sunghoon

SYNOPSIS: newly married, you and your husband love creating your own...unique traditions

PAIRING: husband!sunghoon x wife!female reader

GENRE: smut

AU: established relationship, chrithmith ∩(·ω·)∩

RATING: explicit/18+, minors dni

WORD COUNT: 7.2k of pure smut baby

WARNINGS: unprotected sex, creampie, dom/sub dynamics, big dick hoon, cock abuser!hoon, oral (f. receiving), nipple play, nudes, sexy ornaments, dirty talk, slightly bratty y/n and hoon is not having it, impatient insatiable hoon, he's so down bad for his lil wifey, teasing, sex with barely any prep, size kink, mentions of size training, strong language, sunghoon cannot stop praising you for the life of him, implied oral (m. receiving), choking, pet names, begging, body worship, overstimulation, forced orgasm, punishment kink, y/n gets tied up :) they are so grossly in love i was gagging the whole time

SNAIL TRAIL: merry belated christmas! for all my freaky horny down bad sunghoon stans. this one's for you. but mostly to my favorite hoonie girl @sungbeams who not only made this incredible banner, but also beta read for me and continued to throw constant words of encouragement my way when i was struggling to write this. as always, i love you so much and everything i do is for you.

“Sunghoon…what is this?”

You’re sitting in the living room of the home you and your newly wedded husband purchased only a few months ago. Wrapping paper and gift bags are strewn throughout the room, traces of hours of opening presents together for the first time as husband and wife littered in a haphazard mess. The fireplace, which is the only lightsource in the room right now besides the ones decorated on the Christmas tree, is warming the entire room as gentle snow falls outside, colorful lights reflecting off the sparkling white substance. You’re bundled up in your favorite Christmas pajamas on the couch while Sunghoon sits in a plush recliner facing you. A proud sparkle adorns your husband’s eyes as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees while he rubs his hands together with excited anticipation as he watches you closely.

“Do you like it? He can’t help the way his lips pull into a subtle smirk, his eyebrows quirking up on the word ‘like’. Sunghoon feels insanely proud for being able to keep this particular gift a surprise. Normally he gets too excited and has to tell you as soon as possible. There’s been quite a few birthdays and anniversaries in the past where Sunghoon hasn’t even made it out of the department store before FaceTiming you and showing you what he’s in the process of buying you. Getting a view of the department store workers side eyeing your husband as he excitingly gushes at you through the phone always warms your heart. An array of apologies always leaves his lips after telling you what he’s gotten you. If it were anyone else, you’d be slightly annoyed with the ruined surprises. But, in all honesty, you actually adored it from him. Your husband being too excited to keep a secret is just another way of him expressing his love. Plus, even if he can’t hide the larger, more extravagant things, he still finds ways to surprise you.

Like with what you have resting in your palms right now. The plastic squeaks slightly as your thumb rubs against it. Memories flood your mind, your thighs twitch, yearning to rub against one another as you lick your lips. It’s hard to ignore the dark haze in your husband’s gaze and the way his legs are spread so perfectly apart. 

Noticing your staring, Sunghoon lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he looks down at his hands before raising his eyes to meet yours once again. He’s waiting for your response, you know he is, and you also know that he’s patient enough to sit here for hours until you’re able to find your voice and speak just what exactly is pulsing through your mind.

And the longer you make Sunghoon wait, the more pleasure he gets from seeing you squirm beneath him later.

“I-I love it. Wow…” You gulp as you stare at the ornament in your hands, eyes unable to tear away from the polaroid Sunghoon has placed perfectly inside.

But it’s not just any polaroid.

It’s a very explicit photo of the two of you on your wedding night where you’re on your knees, throat stuffed with your newly wedded husband’s deliciously thick cock. Mascara running down your cheeks and a hint of drool dribbling down your chin is visible in the photo along with Sunghoon’s large hand gently pulling your hair back. 

“I remember that night so well,” Sunghoon grumbles as he leans back in his seat, his eyes still trailing over your body.

“I would hope you do!” you laugh, looking up at him, “Our wedding night, it was only a couple months ago after all.”

“And I don’t think I’ll ever forget it,” his gaze darkens, his arms moving to rest behind his head, “Especially the way you moaned once my dick hit the back of your throat. Or when I could see my bulge in your stomach. Or how you could still see my handprint on your ass the next morning. Or-”

“Hoon!” You laugh and toss a throw pillow towards him, which he catches easily, laughing along with you.

“Sorry. Like I said though, it’s a night I’ll never forget. And when you suggested we try to make our own Christmas traditions, well, what can I say? I was inspired.”

His smile is so genuine with a light sparkle in his eyes being reflected from the firelight. You can’t help but walk towards him, needing to be close and to feel his warmth. You’re about to lean in for a kiss when his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in until you’re sitting on his lap. But that wasn’t good enough for him. Sunghoon repositions you so that you’re cradled in his arms, your head resting beneath his collarbone. He leans down slowly, a smile blooming on his face, until your noses touch. Giggling together, you both close your eyes and move your heads back and forth, noses bumping together repeatedly in the process. The innocent moment doesn’t last long, though. He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. You’re about to ask him what he’s thinking about, but before you get the chance, his soft pillowy lips are brushing against yours, his strong arms pulling you closer to his body.

The kiss seems innocent at first, full of love and tenderness as your mouths move together. But one little shift of your hips in his lap has your husband groaning, deepening the urgency of the kiss. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip and you eagerly grant him entry all while one hand cusps your cheek and the other grips your hip tighter. Your own hands can’t stay still as one dips below his shirt and wanders from his stomach up to his chest, marveling at the way his muscles feel against your palms and fingertips.

He quickly repositions you. Now, straddling his lap, his hands are free to roam down your body, exploring every curve he can. As if he hasn’t already familiarized himself with every inch of you. Continuing the kiss, he groans as you naturally grind your hips against his lap. His hands grab at your waist, quickling seating you down on him fully until you’re able to feel his cock hardening beneath you. At the feeling of friction against your clothed clit, you moan into his mouth, head tilting back slightly while you grind on him harder. Sunghoon catches your bottom lip between his teeth, growling slightly as he pulls and sucks.

Once he releases you, his mouth is attached to yours again immediately. The kisses are deep, feverish, and desperate; his tongue sloppily entering your mouth muffling any sigh or moan that was lingering within you.

Only when air is needed do you two break away. You look into his deep brown eyes and easily get lost in how lustful he appears. At the same time though, you see something in his eyes soften, complete love and admiration evident amidst the yearning.

“How about we make our second ornament, hmm?” Sunghoon smirks, nipping at your lips again. All you can do is quickly nod your head as you place your hands on his cheeks, savoring the tender moment before it’s gone. One thing about your husband is that once he gets riled up, it’s almost impossible to satiate the beast that consumes his sweet and romantic side.

“Perfect,” Sunghoon’s voice is husky with desire. Quickly, he stands up effortlessly with you still in his arms, one hand firmly placed on your back while the other holds one of your thighs. You can’t help but giggle as you cling to him, peppering kisses along his jaw and neck. You slow your ministrations down when you hear him groan as you nip at a particular spot under his ear; you slowly open your mouth and let your tongue brush against his skin before biting down gently, careful to not leave any marks (per his unfortunate request, no visible marks can be left on him due to his new position at work. Plus, it’s been harder to cover them up and there’s only so many times he can wear a scarf during the summer without getting weird glances from coworkers. And the amount of turtle necks he’s worn during this winter season in particular is fashionably criminal).

Sunghoon easily carries you to your shared bedroom, not even bothering to close the door as he gently tosses you on the mattress. You quickly sit up, peeling your clothes off of you before Sunghoon even has a chance to get on the bed himself.

“Slow down, let me help you,” he murmurs, placing a hand on your arm to stall you. You let him remove your shirt, although he’s doing it painfully slowly; leaving soft kisses along your collar bones and the base of your neck once they’re properly exposed. Even though his movements are slow and intentional, it feels like time is speeding up between you in the best way possible. It’s something you can’t quite explain. You’ve heard other people talk about how time seems to stop when they’re with their partners. But, for you, time has always sped up with Sunghoon, the entire world spinning by as the two of you live in your own timezone; a cocoon created just for you two to find solace in.

You wouldn’t change it for a thing.

Finally, Sunghoon has you completely naked and laying on your side, supporting your upper body weight by laying on your elbows as you look at him towering over you. He’s already swatted your hand away from him when you tried to lift his shirt up, a wide, goofy smile plastered on his face as he gently encourages you to wait. What you’re waiting for? You have no idea. But your heart is racing with anticipation, your body warm and cheeks flushed already.

All he does is roll up his sleeves slightly, exposing his veiny forearms. Instantly your eyes are drawn to his hands, though, his fingers flexing slightly as they move back down to his sides. 

“You’re staring, darling.”

“Can’t help it,” you sigh, “look at you.”

Sunghoon chuckles softly, an endearing smile back on his face, “Look at me? Look at you. So pretty for me…” he takes a step forward, his gaze primal and hungry, “so pretty for me to ruin, tsk tsk. What am I going to do with you?” 

You feel your face heating up even more, blush surely spreading across your cheeks. You can’t help but wish he would hurry up, though. It feels like your heart is going to beat out of your chest with how fast and hard it’s pounding. Hands craving for a purpose, you keep reaching for your husband, desperate to feel his skin mingle with yours, but he keeps swatting you away. Your body is aching for him like it always does, no matter how many times you’ve had him inside you. You always want more of him- need more of him.

Sunghoon looks towards the closet where you keep your polaroid camera resting safely on the shelf above your hanging clothes, the long neck strap spilling over the ledge. But, he bites his bottom lip and turns back to you, groaning as he places his knees on the edge of the bed. One of his hands comes out to grasp one of your knees, spreading you apart so he can properly look at your glistening cunt. 

“Fuck,” he exhales, “I can see how wet you are for me already. Darling, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

You try to look away from him, but his gaze is too captivating, holding you in place.

“Just looking at you has me like this,” you quip playfully, “my husband is just so sexy.”

“Fuck…say that again,” he groans, massaging your knee with his hand, his eyes glued to yours.

“My…hus…band,” you say slowly, drawing out the syllables with a smirk, clicking your tongue at the end while you bring a foot up to rest on his thigh. 

His free hand instantly grasps your foot, stopping its movements immediately. Sunghoon can’t help but sigh and marvel at you. But only for a moment. Roughly, he tosses your leg to the side and buries his face in your heat, forgoing the slow build up he initially was going for and presses his nose against your clit as he tongues at your hole. 

“Oh!-” You let out a surprised choked yelp, but you’re quickly sputtering as one of your husband’s hands comes up to grasp one of your breasts tightly. His thumb flicks over your perked nipple, massaging your mound harshly as his tongue continues to lick at your arousal. Your back naturally arches, your hands grasping at the sheets near your head as moans easily leave your lips.

“Mmm, so sweet for me,” Sunghoon coos, bringing his free hand up to wipe at his mouth. At first, you think he’s done, but then he has two fingers roaming between your folds collecting your slick. “So wet, all for me,” he says proudly, eyes locked in on your cunt. He’s more so talking to himself. More praises and remarks are made but your head is becoming too foggy, thighs now twitching with the soft contact. You need more, more of him.

Your hands snake down to his head, making him look at you for a moment while you silently plead for him. You know that he knows what you want, but all he does is smile happily at you, continuing the slight touches. His fingers circle the outside of your hole and just far enough outside of your clit to have you clenching. It’s completely unfair for him to do this to you, but unfortunately, it’s not the first or last time he will play with you like this. 

“So needy,” he coos again, “is this what you want?” Sunghoon slowly pushes one digit into your cunt, making sure not to move it around. You try to suck him in further, hips wiggling unintentionally.

“Sunghoon,” you groan, closing your eyes, “please.”

“Please what?” You can hear the smirk in his voice and it’s enough to make you want to throw a bratty tantrum. But, somehow, you’re able to stop yourself. Because this is exactly what you want. And if you give into your bratty dynamics, it’ll only prolong what you need. 

So you’ll give your husband what he wants, for your own selfish agenda of course. “Please touch me more. I need you. No more teasing. Please.” The more you talk, the whinier you sound, but you don’t care anymore. Your hole continues to clench around his digit, desperate for it to move, piston, curl, do anything other than just sit dormant.

Sunghoon chuckles lowly, “Being so good for me today, aren’t you? Fine. I’ll give my wife what she needs since she’s been such a good girl this year.”

Your eyes are still closed as you sigh, waiting to feel more of his fingers inside you or even to feel his lips around your clit.

But that’s too predictable. And Sunghoon doesn’t like being predictable.

Instead, your eyes pop open as you feel Sunghoon’s cock pushing into you. The stretch is painfully delicious, your body shivering as he fills you up more and more. Once he’s completely sheathed inside you, Sunghoon groans and grips your knees tightly. You don’t know how you didn’t hear him slide his pajama pants down his thighs, but it’s a detail you don’t mind missing. Plus, you’re more focused on the way your body stings, urgently trying to adjust to his giant cock. Sunghoon stills for a moment, chest heaving as he adjusts himself inside you. 

“God, you’re so tight,” he hisses.

“That’s what happens when you don’t warm me up properly.”

“Smart fucking mouth,” he tsks but he can’t hide his smile. Sunghoon quickly rips his shirt over his head, tossing it mindlessly to the floor next to him. “I know you can take it, though. Your body was made for me, afterall.” 

He doesn’t even give you a chance to reply before his hips are pulling back, snapping forward back into you just before you feel his tip about to leave your hole. You moan with the force of his thrust, hands reaching out to grip onto his firm biceps. 

“Look at you. You’re so perfect like this, so beautiful,” Sunghoon groans as he thrusts harder and faster into you. “So��beautiful,” he grunts again. You gasp as he leans forward, his cock hitting a new angle. But you don’t have time to fully appreciate it. His hand wraps delicately around your throat, squeezing until a slight gasp leaves your lips.

It feels like your body is levitating; every inch of your skin prickles with a rush of adrenaline as your husband continues to abuse your hole. The way his hips snap against your thighs has you feeling bruised already. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Some might feel embarrassed for how quickly they get to their orgasm, but not you. You feel a sense of pride swell in your chest knowing that your husband knows your body so well and is always determined to have you come before he does. It’s a law he’s written for himself. And, ever since the first time you’ve been together, he’s held true to it. The rare times he comes before you do is if you’re sucking him off quickly somewhere outside of your home, which is usually taking place in a restaurant bathroom or a dressing room in a random department store. Being the man Sunghoon is, though, that same night he makes sure to spend hours with your thighs cushioned against his head. No matter how much you beg for his cock, he always insists on using his tongue or hands to fully appreciate your body as a reward for taking care of him at the random moments when he needs to use you.

Ever the selfless, Sunghoon lessens his grip on your throat and leans down, kissing you softly while his pace doesn’t relent. It’s drowning the way his lips naturally mold with yours, all the words you want to say get poured into the way you receive his touch, wrapping your arms around his neck and bucking your hips forward to meet his thrusts.

“Don’t come yet,” he commands, a harsh bite in his voice as he pushes your hips down, “I want our next ornament to be a picture of you right as your orgasm hits. Can you do that for me? Can you hang on just a little bit longer, baby? I just want to have a little more fun with you before I grab the camera.”

You shake your head, biting down hard on your bottom lip to try to keep yourself from orgasming. Tears prick your eyes as you feel your body start to betray you despite your best efforts.

“C’mon, baby, please? Fuck, I don’t think I can stop. You just feel so good,” he groans loudly, both hands gripping your breasts tightly as he continues pounding you into the mattress. “If you can’t hold it I’ll just have to make you come again and again until I get the picture I want.”

“Please let me, Hoon. I-I can’t-” a choked moan interrupts you when Sunghoon presses his thumb firmly on your clit, rubbing harshly at a steady pace while his cock continues to piston in and out of you. You don’t even have a second to enjoy the dual stimulation. Your orgasm hits you like a train, exploding from the bottom of your body and rippling upward. Eyes rolling back so harshly, it feels like you’re going to pass out as your body starts to tremble violently underneath Sunghoon.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, slowing his pace down only slightly, “look at you, my pretty doll. Can’t even let me fuck you for more than two minutes before you’re losing your mind on my cock. You did so well taking me without any prep. Always so good for me.” He’s kissing up your chest between sentences, arms holding you tightly in place. You focus on the sound of his voice, letting the low familiar tone guide your soul back to your body.

Sunghoon pets your hair comfortingly, leaving gentle kisses along your face while his cock still sits snugly in your heat, unmoving. “You back with me?” he whispers, seeing the light returning back to your eyes and your body shaking less. You nod your head in response, a soft smile spreading on your face as you blink slowly at him.

“Good. Now that you’ve had your moment to catch your breath I can punish you properly.” Sunghoon removes himself from your body and the bed, now walking towards the closet.

“W-what?” You sit up on your elbows and watch him, confused with the way his jaw clenches and his back muscles tense.

“I thought you were gonna be a good girl for me, but I guess I was mistaken.” He’s digging around in the closet, nowhere near where the camera is.

“But I have been good!” You pout shamelessly, your tone whiny and full of attitude.

Finding what he was looking for, Sunghoon straightens himself and grabs the polaroid camera without a second glance. When he turns around, you gulp, seeing the four fuzzy cuffs in his hands alongside the camera.

“I told you not to come,” he flicks his hooded gaze at you, his face cold and annoyed, “so you don’t get to touch me since you wanted to be so greedy.”

Silently, Sunghoon walks back towards the bed and quickly fastens your feet into two of the cuffs, securing them snuggly and pulling out the fabric straps from under the mattress to hook the cuffs to. His jaw is still clenched while he moves impatiently, huffing at himself when his fingers fail to get them secure the first time. Only when he moves to your last free wrist does he finally look at you. Trying to appear sorrowful, you jut out your bottom lip and lower your head to look at him through your eyelashes. Sunghoon groans, always falling into this trap when it comes to you.

“Don’t look at me like that. You know what you did was wrong. And I’m not letting you off the hook that easily. You disobeyed so you’ll be punished. I know how handsy you get so it only seems fitting.”

You tug playfully at your wrist constraints, eliciting a stern scowl from your husband. Sighing and shaking his head, he takes out the camera and sets it down next to your body.

“But it’s Christmas…” You try again, but he doesn’t acknowledge you this time.

Sunghoon patiently looks over your body, his eyes slowly combing over every curve of your body, biting at his bottom lip as if it’s the first time he’s seeing you like this. You desperately want to rub your thighs together, missing the feeling of his cock stretching you out. It doesn’t go unnoticed by your husband, the way your legs tug at the cuffs or the way your hips buck up slightly. It’s almost worse that he won’t acknowledge you, even slowing down his gaze. And it’s killing you that he’s not even saying anything so all you’re left with is the cold air settling against your skin and feeling like a frog about to be dissected with the way you’re displayed before him. 

You let out a low moan, a huff really, while you furrow your brows and desperately try to meet Sunghoon’s gaze. He trails a finger from your thigh down to your ankle, your body twitching under his touch.

“Hoon-”

“No.”

One of his hands falls to his aching cock, still erect and glistening from your arousal. He slowly moves up and down his length, wincing slightly while looking hungrily at your exposed pussy. Flashbacks of your first night together flood your mind, the way Sunghoon practically drooled over your naked heat while your body trembled with a surge of adrenaline. The look on his face now is the same as it was all those years ago. 

Finally, his eyes trail up your body, resting into your gaze. That soft smile is back and you wonder if he’s reminiscing like you are, if he’s feeling the same overwhelming swell in his chest, wishing this moment wouldn’t have to pass and you could stay like this together forever.

As romantic as that sounds, you’re both over it. Smirks blooming on both of your faces as the yearning and needing for one another takes over your bodies. You use another wasted attempt at your constraints, whining for your husband in a near tantrum state. It only fuels his ego, loving how desperate you are for him. His erect cock visibly twitches, pulling Sunghoon towards you like a magnet. Placing a knee inches away from your dripping cunt, he leans down and groans as he kisses you, putting so much pressure against your lips that your head pushes deeper into the pillows until your neck starts to ache. His tongue doesn’t wait for your permission, forcefully pushing past your lips until he’s able to collide the muscle against your own. You moan into him, bucking your hips up once again to try to feel his body against your own, but he’s hovering a teasing length away, just enough for you to not be able to reach him.

In compensation, one of his large hands moves to grip your waist tightly, nails digging into your skin while he continues to attack your mouth. You desperately want to reach your hands out and wrap them around his neck, to tug on the ends of his hair and move his head to the side to nip and pull at the skin beneath his ear. 

The tension building up in your body is reaching a boiling point and you’re afraid you might actually lose your mind. Sunghoon loves to hear you beg, that’s nothing new to you, but the type of begging you’re on the verge of doing will only become a regret shortly after. You want to keep your composure, you really do, want to be the patient perfect wife Sunghoon married months ago. How could you possibly behave in a time like this? With a man like this?

You’re about to let loose when Sunghoon breaks away from your lips, moving his own along your jawline and dipping down to nip at your collarbones. In doing so, Sunghoon’s body lowers and you feel the tip of his cock bump against your swollen lower lips. Gasping, no, moaning, no-, whining, fuck, maybe all of the above sounds leave your lips simultaneously. Arching your back, your body desperately needs to be closer to him, to feel him against every inch of your skin. You feel dizzy, high even from the lack of contact and he has the nerve to sit there and watch you, chuckling as if you did something cutely amusing.

“You think this is funny?” You finally manage to pant out, wrists getting sore from tugging too harshly against the cuffs.

“Very.” Fangs beaming through his smile and sparkling eyes, Sunghoon gives you a moment before reaching for the camera. Quickly his fingers work until a bright light flashes in your face making you blink quickly.

“Sorry, love. Just couldn’t resist that pouty face of yours. Definitely one for the books. Now,” he grunts, looking down where your bodies are almost connected, “you ready for me? Gonna listen this time?” 

You nod your head earnestly, clenching around nothing, aching to be filled again.

“Take a breath,” he instructs, lining himself up to your hole, “because I’m not warming you up again. And I don’t plan on going slow.”

Instinctively, you do as you're told and inhale slowly. Sunghoon watches and waits until you’re exhaling to shove the head of his throbbing cock past your walls. Only getting halfway in, Sunghoon winces, letting out a low groan as his brows furrow while he looks at you, gritting his teeth as his eyes darken. Moving back onto his knees, Sunghoon tears his gaze from you and pushes his hair out of his eyes, his brows furrowed while he lets out another impatient huff. A failed experimental thrust getting him nowhere deeper inside you only elicits more huffs and a few muttered swear words. He leans down and lets a wad of spit string down from his mouth, landing directly where his cock and your pussy meet. Sunghoon brings one hand down and smothers the spit along his digit, moving it along his cock and up to your clit where he rubs annoyed circles frantically. He knows it doesn’t feel that good for you to be instantly met with harsh pressure and fast speeds, but he’s not trying to make you feel good right now exactly. No, he wants your body to react faster, to adjust to him before he completely loses his patience.

“After all this time I’m still too big for this little pussy? Thought I trained you better.” He’s shaking his head in disapproval and all you want is to get on your hands and knees and beg for his forgiveness; to beg for him to show you how to take his monster cock properly. But you’re left to just lay here like a starfish, whimpering as you try to relax your body. It feels impossible with all the anticipation building up. Your body is tense, heart rate increasing with every passing second. Your walls pulse around his thick member, sucking him in further and further with each subtle rock of his hips. Sunghoon’s brows are furrowed so deeply and his jaw clenched so tightly makes you clench around him even harder. Fuck, he’s so hot like this. Normally so patient and unbothered, it’s moments like this that really excite you. Because an impatient and bothered Sunghoon just means more fun for you.

“Sorry,” Sunghoon grumbles and grabs your hips firmly, backing out slowly only to ram himself completely into you. Gasping as his tip hits your cervix, your hips stutter against his pelvis. Sunghoon exhales a slow chuckle, biting his tongue between his fanged teeth with a smirk.

“God, you’re clenching me so tight I feel dizzy.” 

Moaning out a haggard, “‘M sorry” is all you can muster. Not that he gives you more time to form a proper sentence. Sunghoon is already moving before you can even adequately appreciate the full feeling he’s giving you. Your chest bounces with each harsh thrust, every muscle in Sunghoon’s body is flexed and strained as he finally delves into his own pleasure. His biceps and pecs are bulging right in front of your face, almost mocking you for not being able to touch or gnaw on them. 

“My pretty wife taking me so well,” grunting, his pace quickens, “you’re doing so, so good for me.”

Your body is desperately fighting against the restraints, feeling so good and overstimulated all at once. The pleasure building up inside your body is looking for any sort of relief. Not being able to rake your fingernails against the skin of his muscled back, not being able to leave open mouthed kisses along the side of his face and neck, it’s all driving you crazy. To just sit here and take this continual cock abuse is driving you so quickly over the edge you’re afraid of coming too quickly again. 

“Sunghoon,” you gesture your head to the side where he placed the camera minutes ago, “the camera.”

“Already?” The innocent and shocked expression on his face has your cheeks feeling hot, biting down on your bottom lip to keep you as grounded as you can. But that knot is winding tighter and tighter, he’s hitting all the right spots and one more low whine out of that pretty mouth of his is all it will take to have you coming undone.

Sunghoon stares at your face, the way your nose is scrunched and your eyes are closed, and hurries to grab the camera. His thrusts slow only slightly, the intensity lessening as he moves his body to grab the device. From fast and deep, he changes to slow and intentional; languidly dragging his cock against your walls.

Sunghoon raises the camera up to his eyes but stops, his body completely stilling, the camera lowering to his side.

You open your eyes and blink slowly at him,“What’s wrong?”

“I have a crazy idea.” There’s a far away look in his eyes mixed with a little sparkle, a look you’re not completely unfamiliar with.

“What is it?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” you say confidently, without any hesitation. What a silly question for him to even have to ask. Curiosity is starting to overwhelm the back of your mind when you see Sunghoon turn the camera over in his hands, the long black neck strap slipping between his fingers, wondering what the hell he has planned in that quiet mind of his.

Sunghoon is inspecting the camera strap carefully, then glancing back at you. 

“I’m gonna choke you with this.”

“What?”

A proud smile adorns his face as he guides your head up and slips the camera around your neck. You gulp as you feel the scratchy material against your esophagus, Sunghoon’s grip already tight while he adjusts everything until it’s in the perfect spot with the extra fabric wrapped around his fist. The camera itself is in his hand in a ready position just in case he decides he needs to take a picture quickly. He gives some experimental tugs, relishing in the way your eyes flutter with the constriction. Twitching, his cock that’s still buried deep inside you pulls his focus back. 

Sunghoon’s body now fully envelopes you, resting his body weight on his free arm while the other angles the camera near the side of your face.

“Why didn’t I think of this before?” He chuckles with satisfaction, taking a quick experimental photo of your chest. He tosses the expelled polaroid on the other side of the bed, making sure the photo lands faced down.

You couldn’t answer even if you wanted to; same old dance, different song really. Because your husband has started up his rhythmic thrusts again, going back to his original pace and pulling at the camera strap attached to your neck. You don’t miss the way he slips one of his fingers underneath the material though, the digit resting lightly against your skin.

Again, you desperately wish you could touch him. There’s no way to properly convey the yearning you have to feel his skin against your fingertips. To make up for the lack of physical action you can show him, you compensate with an array of moans with his name and swear words, you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore. Anything that will convey to him just what he’s doing to you exactly and how well he’s doing it too. 

“Oh my-, fuck, Hoon! There- right-, yeah! I’m-, hmmm.” It feels like your body is levitating with how deeply your back is arching, brain getting dizzy, your eyes are rolling back so hard. You can feel your thighs starting to shake more and more with each thrust Sunghoon pounds into you. Has he ever been this deep before? There’s no way he hasn’t. He could be pushing your uterus further into your body for all you know with the way he’s going absolutely crazy on you.

Sweat blooming like 4am dewdrops on Sunghoon’s forehead glisten, some drops falling down against your own brow. He’s muttering something back to you in between kisses along your skin, but you can’t make out the words with how fast and quietly he’s talking.

Not that it matters anyways. Your release is building up so quickly again you’ve become a sputtering mess yourself. 

“My god, you’re doing so well for me, baby,” Sunghoon winces, voice louder and understandable once more, “You’re gripping me so tight. Are you close again already?”

“T-take the picture!” You squeal through a gasp, grinding your hips against him.

Moving fast, Sunghoon loosens his grip on the camera strap, positioning his fingers on the button and tries to angle the lens to a spot that fits his liking. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he watches your expressions. He almost can’t believe that he’s the reason your eyes are rolling back so hard, that he’s the one making your entire body shake without barely having to do anything at all. 

“Oh!” You gasp as your husband’s cock twitches inside you mid thrust, hitting your g-spot easily. Your mouth falls open, back still arching and your eyes roll back yet again. The bright flash from the camera goes off while Sunghoon spews an array of swear words, tossing the camera to the side quickly. He grabs your hips and thrusts in and out of you at a rapid pace, fucking you through your orgasm while he chases his own high.

“You’re so fucking hot for letting me tie you up and take pictures of you, holy fuck. I have the best little wife,” he growls, “letting me do whatever I want with your body. You’re perfect, perfect for me.” A guttural groan leaves his lips as he ruts his hips against yours, muscles stuttering as he shoots hot ropes of cum as far into your cunt as he possibly can. Finally, you let out a loud sigh as you let your orgasm wash over your body. Electricity shoots throughout your veins as you ride out your high, Sunghoon slowly moving back and forth as he fucks his cum deeper into you. Even after you’re both panting and coming back to reality, he’s milking out every drop he possibly has left, making sure it’s well seated in you before pulling out fully.

With shaky legs, Sunghoon stands and stretches his arms over his head, returning to give you a shaking, soft kiss to your trembling lips.

“I love you,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your cheek before giving a swift peck to your nose. He moves to undo the cuffs from your wrists, massaging your skin lightly for a moment before moving onto the next ones.

You whine as he moves away from you, wanting to kiss his lips over and over again until you physically can’t anymore. Brain spinning from your high and body buzzing, you’re not ready to have any sort of space away from him just yet.

When Sunghoon finally gets the last cuff off your ankle, you sit up and grab his arm, pulling him back down to the bed and enveloping his body in your arms. He laughs as he falls on top of you, wasting no time to reciprocate the embrace, littering your face with rapid kisses that leave you giggling.

“I love you too, by the way.” You giggle, squishing your cheek against his while squeezing your arms around him tighter.

“I know,” he says softly. “Hey, we should see how the pictures turned out!”

“Oh god,” you groan, completely unprepared to see what you look like in a total fucked out dazed state. Sunghoon moves to the side, resting his head against your shoulder and reaching over your body for the photos, hiding them from your curious eyes so he can get a peak first.

“Daaammmnn,” he whistles with a side glance towards you, “I just felt myself twitch again. These are too good. Can we do this every time we have sex?”

“Lemme see.” You laugh and reach for his hand. He hands over the photos willingly, watching your face intently while you take in the photos. “That’s me? I look like that when I-”

“Yep,” Sunghoon sighs dreamily, “I never get tired of seeing it.” He tilts his head to the side to give you that rare goofy grin that you love so much.

“Should we put it in an ornament now?”

“Nah,” Sunghoon takes the polaroids from your hand and sets it on the nightstand, pulling you closer so now it’s your head that’s resting on his chest, “Let’s stay here a bit longer.”

Closing your eyes and breathing in his scent, you sigh happily, arms wrapped securely around his waist while he murmurs soft words into your hair. An array of “so pretty”’s and “my baby did so well”’s tumbling from his kiss swollen lips.

It only takes you a moment to realize what he’s doing. And you get your confirmation when you open your eyes.

“You want to go again…don’t you…”

Sunghoon exhales with a low chuckle, his head falling back while he continues to play with your hair. “What gave it away?”

“Well…you’re being very affectionate right now. And I have eyes.” You giggle and gesture towards his naked bottom half, with his (once again) fully erect cock on display.

“Oh…that.” Sunghoon shyly replies. “Can you blame me?” 

Without waiting for your response, yet again (does he ever wait for you to properly reply to him?) Sunghoon moves quickly and is hovering over you once again, lowering his bottom half until his cock is nestling between your folds. Teasingly his tip nudges against your clit, your body already weeping to have him inside you again.

Thinking he’s about to put himself back in, you brace your body to feel the stretch. Instead, Sunghoon gives you a mischievous grin and grabs your waist. He flips you around, pulling your hips back until your ass is in the air and flush against his pelvis.

You feel the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance again, but he pauses. And you groan because he seems to always be doing this; somehow always getting lost in thought just when you’re ready to let everything go and be fully consumed by him. But nothing can ever be that simple to Sunghoon. Every minute, every second, every detail is thought out in ways that only Sunghoon could do. But the more he gets lost in thought, the more pleasure you’ll feel later. If only your patience could keep up.

“Fuck, I wanna tie you up again.”

You let out a surprised laugh, somehow, at the same time, you’re not completely surprised by this at all. His words are so simple, yet they send an excited chill throughout your body. You know better than to move when you feel his presence leave you, most likely heading back to the closet to rummage through your shared box of fun. 

You hear his feet shuffling back, followed by the bed dipping under his body weight shortly after. “Mmm. Love you like this,” he sighs, massaging the swell of your ass with his hands before landing a playful smack to it. He grabs your arms and places your wrists on top of each other. The feeling of what’s most likely one of his ties wraps around, tightening deliciously around your skin until you can’t move your arms at all. 

“We’re going to make so many ornaments tonight, baby.”

♡ pls like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! ♡ masterlist ♡ all rights reserved jayparked 12/30/24 do not copy, repost, or translate

[helioooss]

silver springs

chapter one: what just happened?

paris was supposed to be the pinnacle. the culmination of years of sacrifice: the end of chaos theory’s first world tour. it was the city of light, love and the dreams you had nurtured since high school.

instead, it felt like the city of heartbreaks — the final place where everything was meant to fall apart.

you stood backstage in a venue that seemed far too beautiful to contain the rising tension within chaos theory. pacing under the grey parisian sky through the thick curtains, you could hear the low hum of a gathering crowd, muffled murmurs of excitement echoing through the walls.

soundcheck was supposed to have started fifteen minutes ago, but instead of running through your songs, you and the rest of the band were waiting for the one person who wasn’t here: minjeong.

again.

no one wasn’t taking it lightly; everyone was on edge.

jimin leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, glaring at her phone as if sheer force of will could make minjeong answer her messages. aeri sat on the edge of the stage, her drumsticks tapping an erratic rhythm against her thigh that only served to worsen the anxiety hanging in the air whilst yizhuo paced back and forth, wringing her hands together like she was trying to squeeze the tension out of her body.

“she’s not fucking answering her phone,” jimin’s voice was low and tight, the clipped edges betraying her barely contained anger. “for fuck’s sake, winter!”

“big surprise,” aeri muttered, tossing her drumsticks into her bag with a sharp motion. “what is this now? the fourth time this week?”

“third,” yizhuo corrected, though her voice was soft, almost apologetic. she had always been the most optimistic one in the band, but even her usual warmth was waning under the weight of minjeong’s absence. “maybe something came up. traffic, or —”

“traffic doesn’t explain why she hasn’t been answering anyone all day,” aeri cut in, her tone sharper now. “she knows how important tonight is. we’re in fucking paris, for god’s sake. this isn’t just another city. this is it — the last show of the tour. and who knows what she’s even fucking up to these days.”

“do you think she even cares anymore?” jimin’s voice was cold, her words cutting through the room like a blade. she finally looked up from her phone, her dark eyes narrowing as she turned her attention to you. “y/n, where is she?”

you swallowed hard, your chest tightening under the weight of their stares. “i don’t know,” you admitted, though the words tasted bitter.

and you really didn’t. you had sent her six texts and called her nine times since this morning. each message was read, but none were answered.

the silence that followed your words was heavy, filled with unspoken frustration and growing worry.

“maybe she’s just overwhelmed,” yizhuo said hesitantly, though even she sounded unsure. “we have to cut her some slack, she feels it —“

“we’re all overwhelmed, ning,” aeri snapped, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest. “but we’re here. you have to stop making excuses for the bullshit she pulls.”

you remained silent, your gaze fixed on the door as if staring at it hard enough would make her magically walk through it.

“y/n?” jimin’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “we will eventually need to step in, or she’s out.”

“i’ll find her,” you said abruptly, grabbing your jacket. “no one is kicking her out of the band she built.”

“y/n, wait —”

“and what else am i supposed to do?” you cut her off, your voice sharper than you intended. “sit here and hope she shows up?”

jimin’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t argue.

“you can’t keep doing this,” aeri said, her voice softer now but no less firm. “you can’t keep cleaning up after her mess. it’s not fair to you, or any of us.”

you didn’t respond because deep down, you knew she was right, but you couldn’t help yourself. you had always been the one to pick up the pieces, to drag minjeong back from the edge when no one else could.

“this is — no, this band is a fucking shit show!” manager kim walked by, screaming with his phone in hand as he paused, looking at you with fury in his eyes. “if minjeong doesn’t get her ass here in an hour, i’m terminating her fucking contract.”

you sighed, shaking your head. “i’ll get her, alright? everybody, just calm the fuck down for a minute!”

the cold parisian air bit at your skin as you stepped onto the street and walked out of the venue, slamming the door behind you. hard. it wasn’t just the chill of the evening that made your chest feel tight.

you hailed a cab, sliding into the backseat and giving the driver the name of your hotel. as the car pulled away from the venue, the weight in your chest only grew heavier.

paris passed by in a blur outside the window. the glittering lights of the city of love felt mocking, their beauty a cruel contrast to the heaviness in your chest. it had been months of this — worrying about minjeong, cleaning up after her, holding the band together when she couldn’t seem to hold herself.

you gripped your phone tightly, some of your unanswered messages glaring back at you.

-

to: mindungie

where are you?

soundcheck started thirty minutes ago.

minjeong, pick up. please.

read 3:45 PM

-

each text was marked as read, the small blue ticks on the screen like tiny daggers but there were no replies, no calls, no explanations.

you clenched your jaw, trying to shove the memories away. but they came anyway, unbidden and relentless.

the memories clashed violently with the present.

you remembered the minjeong from before — the one who used to sit with you in your parents’ garage, strumming her old acoustic guitar until her fingers blistered, the girl who smiled so brightly when you finally nailed the harmony to her melody that you thought your chest might burst, the woman who pulled you aside after your first gig in a dingy seoul bar and whispered, “we’re going to make it, y/n. i know we will. and i love you, never stop believing that. as long as we’re together, as long as we love each other —“

fame had stolen her from you.

she had been disappearing piece by piece since the day chaos theory signed their first major deal.

it hadn’t been obvious at first; just small things. the way she avoided your eyes in meetings with the label, the excuses she made to skip rehearsals, the late nights she spent with people you didn’t recognise.

and over time, those small things turned into something bigger, worst.

the signs had been there. you thought about the grammy’s afterparty in los angeles — the first time you really saw it. she had vanished for hours, leaving you and the rest of the band to awkwardly fend off questions from industry insiders who wanted to meet “the voice of the band of the century.”

when she finally reappeared, her eyes were glassy, her movements slow and unsteady. she laughed it off, saying she’d just had “a little too much fun.”

but you knew. you’d known even then.

and now there was sungchan.

the thought of him made your stomach churn. you had warned her about him from the beginning, begged her to stay away. his reputation wasn’t just bad, it was pretty fucking catastrophic.

scandals followed him like a shadow: drugs, parties and rumours of fights with his own bandmates. he was the kind of person who thrived on chaos, and somehow, he had pulled her into his orbit.

you’d tried to talk to her about him once, months ago, after you caught her sneaking out of his apartment. you still remembered the way her expression hardened, her walls going up so fast it was like she became someone else entirely.

“you don’t get to tell me who to hang out with, y/n,” she said, her voice icy.

“i’m not trying to control you,” you replied, desperate to make her understand. “i’m just worried about you.”

“well, don’t be,” she had snapped. “i don’t need you to worry about me.”

“hotel molitor again, right?” the driver, in his strong french accent, pulled you out of your thoughts, glancing at you in the rearview mirror.

you nodded without looking up, your throat too tight to form words as phone buzzed against your thigh. you pulled it out and saw jimin’s name light up the screen.

-

from: rina <3

don’t do anything stupid, please.

sent 5:45 PM

-

you shoved the phone back into your pocket and exhaled sharply. your chest felt heavy, your ribs tight as if the weight of everything you’d been carrying for months was finally suffocating you.

“everything okay back there?” the cab driver asked, his accented english cutting through your spiral of thoughts.

you looked up, startled. he was an older man, his salt-and-pepper hair peeking out from under a worn cap. his eyes met yours in the rearview mirror, kind but curious.

“yeah,” you lied, forcing a tight smile.

his gaze lingered for a second before flicking back to the road. “you look familiar,” he said after a moment. “are you — wait a minute,” his eyes lit up, and he grinned wide. “you’re in chaos theory, aren’t you? y/n?”

your heart skipped a beat. “uh, yeah,” you said cautiously, not sure where this was going.

“my kids are huge fans,” he said, his excitement bubbling over. “they’re at your concert right now! well, they’re outside, waiting for the show to start. chaos theory has been the soundtrack to our house for the past year.”

something in his words made your chest loosen, just a little. for a brief moment, the crushing weight lifted. “that’s…that’s really nice to hear,”

“oh, they’d lose their minds if they knew I was driving you,” he said, laughing as he glanced back at you. “my daughter — her favourite is minjeong, but my son? he’s all about you. thinks you’re the coolest guitarist alive. i think he’s trying to learn because of you.”

despite everything, you felt the corners of your lips twitch upward. “that’s sweet.”

“do you mind?” he asked, one hand on the wheel while the other reached into the glove compartment. he pulled out a stack of cds and a crumpled hat, his smile sheepish. “i know you’re busy, but if you could sign these, it’d make their year.”

“of course,” you leaned forward, taking the cds and hat. fishing a pen in your pocket, you scrawled your signature on the covers of the albums, each one bringing a small but genuine relief to your chest. “what’s his name?”

“jules,” he grinned proudly. “my daughter’s name is josephine.”

“beautiful names,” as you signed the hat, you added a quick note: keep rocking, jules and josephine! - all love, y/n.

“thank you so much,” the driver said, his gratitude palpable. “they’re going to frame these, i’m sure of it. you know, music means everything to them. and to me too. it’s been a hard year, but…your songs have been a bright spot.”

his words struck a chord in you, and for the first time that evening, the tension in your chest eased. the band had started as a dream — a way to make people feel something, to give them an escape. and even if everything felt like it was falling apart now, you have done that.

your music reached people.

“thank you,” you said quietly. “it means a lot to hear that.”

the rest of the ride passed in a more comfortable silence. as the cab pulled up to your hotel, the driver turned to you, his smile still warm. “good luck tonight...and can we take a photo?”

you nodded. “of course!” then, you moved into the frame as you gestured a thumbs up.

“thank you, y/n,” he shook your hand. “i’ll remember this.”

you stepped out of the cab, pausing before you shut the door. “tell your kids i said thank you…i mean it.”

the weight returned — but it was softer now, dulled by the reminder of why you were doing this in the first place.

the staff greeted you warmly, but you barely registered them as you strode your way to the elevator. the ride up to her floor felt endless, each ding of the elevator a reminder of what might be waiting for you on the other side.

your thoughts raced. what if she wasn’t there? what if she was hurt? or worse? and if she was there, what would you find?

you didn’t want to think about sungchan. you didn’t want to imagine him in her room, his arm around her, his influence pulling her further and further away but the image was there, sharp and vivid in your mind and it made your hands curl into fists.

you hated him. but more than that, you hated yourself. for not being enough to pull her back.

for loving her so much that it hurt to breathe when she looked at anyone else the way you wished she would look at you.

the elevator dinged, the doors sliding open with a soft chime. you stepped into the hallway, your heart pounding in your chest as you approached her door.

as you swiped the keycard, your hands began to tremble; the soft beep of the door sounding impossibly loud in the silence.

and then your heart broke.

the smell hit you first — stale smoke, alcohol, and something sharper, acrid almost. the room was dim, the curtains drawn tightly shut. discarded clothes, empty plastic bags and crushed cigarette butts littered the floor, creating a mess that screamed of indulgence and recklessness.

but none of it mattered.

there she was. minjeong. curled up, her head resting on sungchan’s shoulder. his arm was draped lazily around her, his fingers toying with a strand of her hair. their closeness was casual, intimate and it felt like a slap to your face.

your chest tightened painfully, the air rushing out of your lungs like someone had knocked the wind out of you.

“minjeong,” you said, your voice low and trembling.

she didn’t stir, her eyes half-lidded as she leaned into him but sungchan looked up, his expression slow to register you before a lazy smirk spread across his face.

“oh, great,” he drawled, his voice thick and slurred. “the babysitter’s here.”

something in you just snapped. the worry, the anger and the sound of your own heart shattering; it all boiled over in an instant.

you crossed the room in three quick strides, your fists clenched at your sides. “get up,” you demanded, your voice sharp enough to cut through the haze hanging in the room.

sungchan chuckled, barely moving. “relax, would you? we’re just hanging out.”

“get the fuck up up,” you said again, your voice louder now.

“or what?” he shot back, sitting up slightly. his smirk widened, infuriatingly smug. “you gonna lecture me too? god, no wonder she’s always running away from you.”

the words were gasoline on the fire already raging inside you. before you knew it, your hand shot out, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

“i said get up,” you snarled, yanking him off the bed with a force that startled even you.

“what the fuck is your problem?” he spat, shoving your hands off him as he struggled to balance himself.

slamming him against the wall, your grip tightened on his shirt as your face hovered inches away from his. “what sort of drugs did you give her?”

the smirk on his face disappeared, replaced by a scowl. “who the fuck do you think you are to speak to me like that?”

his fist came out of nowhere, connecting with your ribs. the pain exploded through your side and made you stagger, but you didn’t let go. instead, you turned, using the opportunity to shove him toward the small coffee table in the corner of the room.

he managed to get up on his feet; laughing with no care in the world.

and then it happened. your fist connected with his jaw, the impact sending a sharp jolt up your arm. the sound of it was loud in the otherwise silent room, a sickening crack that echoed in your ears.

he stumbled back once more, crashing into the nightstand and knocking over a lamp as it cluttered all over the floor, but he recovered quickly, his face twisting with anger as he lunged at you; his fist hitting your cheek.

the pain only fueled your rage.

you grabbed him again, your grip tightening as you shoved him backward. he crashed onto the wall by the window, the wood splintering under his weight. he groaned, clutching his side as he tried to push himself up.

“you’re fucking insane,” he spat, blood dripping from his mouth.

“i told you to get the fuck out,” you growled, your voice low and deadly. “too slow.”

he didn’t move fast enough. you grabbed him by the arm and hauled him toward the door, throwing it open and practically shoving him into the hallway. he stumbled, muttering curses under his breath as he limped away, his pride and body equally battered.

you slammed the door shut, your chest heaving as you turned back to the room.

and there she was. minjeong. sitting up now, her wide eyes filled with a mixture of anger and fear.

“what the fuck was that, y/n?” she yelled, her voice trembling.

you stared at her, your hands still trembling from the fight. “what the hell, minjeong?” you shot back, your voice rising. “this is what you’ve been doing? while we’re out there — while i’m out there, holding everything together, you’re here with him?”

she flinched at the venom in your tone but quickly recovered, her expression hardening. “you don’t get to come in here and act like you’re better than me,” she snapped, standing up. “i didn’t ask for you to clean up after me.”

“you didn’t have to,” you said, your voice cracking. “you don’t care about anything anymore, do you? not the band, not yourself, not —”

“not what?” she challenged, stepping closer.

“not me,” you finished, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

her eyes widened briefly, but then she laughed bitterly, the sound cutting through you like a knife. “this isn’t about you, y/n. not everything is about you.”

“this isn’t about me!” you yelled, your voice breaking. “this is about you throwing your life away. do you even realise what you’re doing? what you’re giving up?”

“don’t lecture me,” she spat, her voice rising to match yours. “you don’t know what it’s like. you don’t know what it feels like to have everyone watching you, waiting for you to fail.”

“then let me help you,” you pleaded, your voice softening. “please, minjeong. you don’t have to do this alone.”

“i don’t want your help!” she screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of her words. “i don’t need you to fix me!”

“i’m not trying to fix you,” you said, your voice trembling. “i’m trying to save you. but you won’t let me. you keep pushing me away, and it’s killing me.”

“then maybe you should just stop,” she said coldly, her eyes narrowing. “if it’s so hard for you, then maybe you should leave.”

you stared at her, your heart pounding in your chest. “is that what you want?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “for me to leave?”

she didn’t answer.

“minjeong,” you said, stepping closer. “look at me. please. tell me you don’t care. tell me none of it mattered. tell me all those nights, all those words, meant nothing.”

the silence was suffocating as you stood frozen in the middle of the room, her cold words echoing in your head like a cruel mantra.

you clenched your fists at your sides, the pain in your ribs from sungchan’s punches now mixing with the ache in your chest. the minjeong in front of you — the one glaring at you with bloodshot eyes, standing in a room littered with the aftermath of her recklessness — was a stranger.

“you think this is growing up? lying in bed with someone like sungchan, surrounded by —” you gestured to the mess on the floor, your voice shaking with disbelief. “you think this is who you’re supposed to be?”

“don’t you dare lecture me,” she snapped, her voice cracking. “you don’t get to stand there and judge me. you don’t know what it’s like.”

“what what’s like, minjeong?” you shot back. “having everything you’ve ever wanted? being adored by millions of people? doing what we dreamed of? tell me what’s so unbearable about it that you have to throw it all away like this.”

her eyes flared with anger and she took a step closer. “you think this is what i wanted? to have no privacy? to be picked apart by strangers every second of my life? i can’t even breathe without someone telling me what i’m supposed to do or who i’m supposed to be!”

“so this is your solution? destroying yourself? destroying us?”

her lips trembled, but before she could respond, the door burst open.

“what the hell is going on here?” jimin’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife.

you turned to see the rest of the band rushing in. jimin’s eyes darted between you and minjeong, narrowing when they landed on your trembling, bloody hands. aeri and yizhuo followed close behind, their faces pale with concern.

“y/n,” jimin added, stepping toward you. “what did you do?”

“what did i do?” you snapped, your voice rising again. “why don’t you ask her what she’s been doing?”

her gaze shifted to minjeong, taking in her disheveled appearance and the wreckage around her. her jaw tightened.

“minjeong,” she began, her voice low and steady, but there was no mistaking the anger simmering beneath it. “you promised us.”

“i don’t owe you anything,” minjeong shot back, her voice defensive.

“bullshit,” aeri cut in, stepping forward. “you owe all of us. we’ve been carrying your weight for weeks — no, months, and you don’t even care.”

“you think this is easy for me?” she yelled, her voice breaking. “do you think i wanted this? i never asked for any of it!”

“but you have it!” yizhuo’s voice was louder than usual, her usual soft demeanor replaced with rare frustration. “we all worked for this, together. and now you’re throwing it all away like it means nothing. do we mean nothing to you?”

she flinched, her eyes darting to the floor, but she didn’t answer.

“you don’t get to do this,” jimin interjected, stepping in front of her. “you don’t get to act like you’re the only one struggling. we’re all tired. we’re all under pressure but we’re still here, showing up because we made a promise to each other. and you’re breaking it.”

“i didn’t ask for this life!” minjeong screamed, her voice cracking. her hands clenched at her sides as her shoulders began to shake.

“but you chose it,” you said, your voice trembling as you stepped forward. “you chose it with us. we built this together, mindungie. don’t act like you’re the only one suffering. i’ve been right there with you through everything, trying to help you, trying to pull you back from the edge and you just keep pushing me away.”

“i don’t need your help,” she spat, her voice filled with venom. “i never asked for it.”

“because you’re too scared to admit that you can’t do this alone,” you said, your voice rising. “you’re drowning and you know it. but instead of reaching out, you’re dragging us all down with you.”

minjeong’s eyes flashed and for a moment, you thought she might cry. but instead, her expression hardened. “why can’t you just fucking let me live my life?”

“because watching you destroy yourself is killing me!” the words burst out of you before you could stop them. the room went silent, everyone staring at you. your chest heaved as you tried to steady your breathing, but the dam had already broken.

“it’s killing me, minjeong,” you said once more, your voice softer now but still trembling. “to see you with him, to see you like this, to see you turn into someone i don’t even recognise anymore. because i —” you stopped, swallowing hard. “because i love you.”

her eyes widened, but she quickly masked it with a bitter laugh. “you love me?” she said, her voice dripping with disbelief. “you’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“don’t do that,” you begged, your voice shaking. “don’t act like this is nothing. like we’re nothing. all those nights we spent together, all the times you said you loved me — what was that? was it all a lie?”

“we got caught up in the moment,” she said, her voice cold.

the words hit you like a punch to the gut.

you swallowed hard, the weight of her silence crushing you. “you don’t mean that,” you said, your voice cracking. “i know you don’t.”

“i couldn’t care less if you walked out of my life tomorrow,” she added coldly, her words like a dagger straight to your heart.

the silence that followed was deafening.

you stared at her, the girl you had loved for years, and like a missing puzzle piece clicking into place, you realised she wasn’t the same person anymore.

the fame, the pressure, the choices she had made— they had all changed her.

silence fell over the room, heavy and suffocating. and in that silence something inside you broke.

finally, you exhaled, the fight draining out of you. “i’m done. i quit.”

the room erupted in protests — jimin, aeri, yizhuo, but you didn’t hear them. you turned and walked out, leaving behind the band, the tour and the girl who had shattered your heart into pieces.

the door slammed shut behind you with a resounding thud, the muffled voices of the band barely audible through the thick wood. the hallway outside her hotel room was quiet, unnervingly so, a stark contrast to the chaos you’d just walked away from.

your breaths came in uneven gasps and your chest ached — not just from sungchan’s earlier punch, but from the weight of everything you had just said.

you stood frozen, your hand still on the door handle, as if part of you was waiting for it to burst open. for her to come after you.

but the door remained closed.

with a deep, shuddering breath, you let go of the handle and forced yourself to move. the patterned carpet underfoot blurred as you stumbled down the hallway towards the lifts; your ribs throbbing with every step.

the memory of him — of his smug smirk, the way he held her — made you sick. you clenched your fists, your knuckles still raw and stinging from the fight.

but the physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow ache spreading through your chest. her words replayed in your mind on an endless loop:

i couldn’t care less if you walked out of my life tomorrow.

as the lift doors slid open, you stepped inside and leaned heavily against the mirrored wall, staring at your reflection. your face was pale, your eyes red-rimmed, your lip split from where you had been clipped.

you looked as wrecked as you felt.

the lift descended with a soft hum and you couldn’t help but think about how it had all fallen apart.

a lifetime’s worth of friendship — and this was how it was ending.

the lobby was eerily quiet when you stepped out, the soft glow of the chandeliers above casting long shadows across the polished floors.

a few members of staff gave you polite nods, but no one stopped you. you made your way through the main doors and out into the crisp night. the city was alive with its usual vibrancy, the streets bustling with late-night wanderers, couples holding hands and the distant hum of music from nearby cafés.

but you felt disconnected from it all, like you were watching a film from behind a glass screen.

you walked aimlessly for a while, the events of the past hour replaying in your head. minjeong’s face, twisted with anger. her voice, sharp and cutting — the way she looked at you like you were a stranger.

surprisingly, you found yourself by the seine, the water reflecting the lights of the city in soft ripples. leaning against the railing, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

eventually, exhaustion won out. you turned back towards the hotel, your steps slow and heavy. when you reached the lobby, the new concierge on shift gave you a concerned look but smiled anyway.

as the lift doors opened on your floor, you stepped out and immediately froze.

jimin was standing outside your room, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. aeri was there too, sitting on the floor against the wall.

they both looked up when they saw you, their faces a mixture of relief and frustration.

“we need to talk,” jimin said firmly, not waiting for an invitation before stepping inside as soon as you tapped the door open. “please?”

aeri trailed quietly, shutting the door behind her.

“not now,” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “can’t it wait?”

“yes, now,” jimin said, crossing her arms. “the show starts in an hour and twice is running out of songs to keep the crowd entertained — we were meant to be there already. we don’t have time to sit around and sulk.”

you flinched at her words, guilt stabbing through your chest. you knew she was right, but the thought of stepping onto that stage felt impossible.

“jimin,” aeri scolded, her gaze flicking to you. “go easy.”

she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “look, i get it. tonight has been a fucking mess but we’ve worked too hard to let it all fall apart now,” she looked at you, eyes searching yours. “please, y/n. just one more show. finish what we started.”

“what’s the point?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “minjeong doesn’t care. why should i?”

“because this isn’t just about her,” aeri said, stepping closer. “it’s about all of us. about everyone who’s been waiting for this night. about the band we built together. don’t let her ruin that for you.”

you sat on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands. their words made sense, but the weight in your chest felt immovable.

“look,” she added, her tone softening. “you don’t have to do it for her. do it for us. for the fans. for yourself.”

you lifted your head, meeting her gaze. the determination in her eyes was unwavering and for a moment, you felt a flicker of the resolve you used to carry.

they were right; just because minjeong couldn’t get her shit together doesn’t mean they should get punished for it too.

“fine,” you closed your eyes with a sigh. “i’ll do it.”

jimin exhaled in relief and aeri gave you a small, encouraging smile.

“thank you,” jimin mumbled quietly. “yizhuo’s with minjeong, trying to sober her up. we’re going to meet in the lobby in thirty minutes. get ready.”

you nodded and they left, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more.

one last show.

downstairs, the lobby buzzed with tension. chaos theory’s managers had arrived, their faces stormy as they spoke in hushed tones to hotel staff. you spotted one of them, seonghwa, pacing near the entrance with a phone pressed to his ear.

“y/n.”

you turned to see the other manager, jinah, walking toward you with a look that was equal parts concern and fury. her eyes flicked to the faint cut on your lip and the way you were holding your ribs.

“are you okay?” she asked, her voice sharp but tinged with worry.

“i’m fine,” you waved her off, though the ache in your ribs told a different story.

“don’t lie to me,” she said, lowering her voice. “i know what happened. seonghwa’s already making calls about pressing charges against sungchan.”

you blinked, startled. “pressing charges?”

“he assaulted you, y/n,” jinah said firmly. “that’s not something we can let slide.”

the thought of dragging this mess into a courtroom made your stomach turn. you shook your head. “it’s not worth it. just let it go.”

“we can’t,” she said, her voice softening. “not after what he did to you. this isn’t just about protecting you — it’s about sending a message.”

you didn’t have the energy to argue, so you nodded faintly, hoping that would satisfy her. just then, the lift doors opened and minjeong stepped out with yizhuo at her side.

she looked different now — cleaned up, her face free of makeup but scrubbed of the earlier haze. her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail and she wore a hoodie and jeans, the most unassuming outfit she could have chosen.

it wasn’t her clothes that caught your attention, anyways. it was her tired eyes and the way they avoided meeting yours completely.

the sight of her made your chest tighten all over again.

“we’re all here,” seonghwa began briskly, his phone now tucked into his pocket. “let’s move. the car is waiting outside.”

you stepped forward, your voice steady but firm. “i’m not going in the same car as her.”

the room fell silent. yizhuo glanced between you and minjeong, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. minjeong didn’t look up, her shoulders tensing at your words.

jinah exchanged a glance with seonghwa, neither of them daring to ask what had happened. finally, she nodded. “you can ride with me,” she said simply.

the car ride to the venue was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the silence. she sat beside you, her expression unreadable as she scrolled through her phone. you stared out the window, the streets of paris rushing past in a blur of light and shadow once again.

“you’re thinking about quitting,” her voice broke the silence, calm and steady, but her words cut straight through you.

you didn’t deny it. “yeah.”

she set her phone down and turned to face you fully. “do you know what that means?”

you nodded faintly. “termination fees. legal battles. years of contracts down the drain.”

“it’s not just about money,” she said. “it’s your reputation. your career. chaos theory is your foundation, y/n. if you walk away now, everything you’ve built could crumble.”

you swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you.

“do you think it’s worth it?” she asked gently.

you hesitated, staring at your hands. “i don’t know,” you admitted. “but i don’t think i can keep doing this. not like this — i’m so tired.”

she was silent for a moment, her gaze softening. “you’re not wrong to feel that way, but quitting isn’t just about leaving minjeong or the band. it’s about leaving everything. the music, the fans, the dream you’ve worked so hard for.”

her words hit you harder than you expected.

“you don’t have to decide now,” she continued. “finish the show. then take some time to think about what you really want. no one’s forcing you to stay but if you leave, make sure it’s for the right reasons.”

the car pulled to a stop outside the venue and jinah placed a hand on your shoulder. “just get through tonight, okay? one last time. then we won’t have to do this again for awhile.”

you nodded, taking a deep breath as you stepped out of the car. the roar of the crowd was faint in the distance and for the first time in hours, you felt a flicker of purpose.

you could do this one more time.

backstage was an echo chamber of tension. the low hum of the crowd seeped through the walls, a reminder of the thousands of fans waiting for chaos theory, but the energy that usually thrived in these moments was nowhere to be found.

instead, silence stretched between the band members, punctuated only by the occasional scuffle of shoes or a whispered instruction from the crew.

the room was filled with a fragile, uneasy silence as you stood near your guitar, meticulously tuning it even though you’ve already done it twice. your hands moved mechanically, but your mind was elsewhere — flashing through the events of the past few hours.

minjeong stood across the room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. she hadn’t said much since the last confrontation, but you could feel her eyes on you, heavy with unspoken words.

finally, she spoke, her voice low but firm. “we need to talk about the setlist.”

you didn’t look up, your fingers plucking at a string as you adjusted the tuning peg. “what about it?”

she stepped closer, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. her voice was strained, though she was trying to keep it calm. “you can’t close with silver springs. it’s not even part of the set.”

you finally looked up, meeting her gaze with a coldness that made her falter. “yes, it is.”

her brow furrowed, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “no, it’s not. we haven’t even rehearsed it properly as a band. it’s not ready.”

“it’s ready enough for me,” you said, your tone sharp and dismissive.

“you can’t just decide that on your own,” she snapped. “we’re a band, y/n. we make these decisions together.”

“do we?” you shot back, finally looking at her. “because it doesn’t feel like it lately.”

her jaw tightened, her frustration bubbling just below the surface. “this isn’t the time for this.”

“no, it’s not,” you said, standing straight and slinging your guitar over your shoulder. “but here we are anyway.”

the rest of the band watched the exchange from a distance, their unease palpable. jimin leaned against the wall, her arms crossed and her gaze flicking between you and minjeong. aeri sat on a stool, her drumsticks resting loosely in her lap, while yizhuo hovered near the keyboard, her expression unsure.

“why are you doing this?” minjeong demanded, her voice rising slightly.

you took a step closer, your voice cold and steady. “because i want to. because it’s my song. and because, for once, i’m doing something for me.”

“you’re being selfish,” she snapped.

you laughed bitterly. “maybe. but it’s about time, don’t you think?”

“y/n —” jimin started, but you cut her off with a sharp look.

“don’t,” you said. “not now.”

aeri opened her mouth as if to say something, but then the stage manager appeared, clipboard in hand.

“chaos theory,” she called, her tone brisk. “stop fucking bickering; you’re up in ten. let’s go.”

the band began to move, each of you grabbing your gear and heading toward the stage door. minjeong ended up walking beside you, her shoulder brushing yours as you made your way through the narrow hallway.

you flinched at the contact and stepped away. “don’t touch me,” you said quietly but sharply, not even glancing her way.

her steps faltered for a moment, and you caught the brief flicker of hurt in her eyes before she looked away.

the stage lights blinded you as you stepped into position, the roar of the crowd washing over you like a tidal wave. it was the kind of energy you’d lived for — the kind that made the sleepless nights and endless rehearsals worth it. but tonight, it felt different. heavier.

and you all knew why.

minjeong took her place at the centre of the stage, microphone in hand. her smile was radiant, her voice bright as she addressed the audience. if you hadn’t just fought with her backstage, you might have believed it was genuine.

“paris,” she called, drawing out the name of the city with that familiar playful tone in her voice. “are you ready for one last night of chaos?”

the crowd erupted, their cheers a deafening wave of sound.

you adjusted your guitar strap and stepped into your spot at stage right, the weight of it settling comfortably against your body.

the band launched into the first song, the opening riff sharp and electric and just like that, the music took over.

on stage, you and minjeong were untouchable. no matter what had happened offstage, no matter how broken things felt behind the scenes, the chemistry between you was undeniable. her voice soared, clear and powerful and your guitar answered her with equal force; weaving together in a way that felt effortless.

as the set went on, you found yourself slipping into memories.

you thought of the early days, playing small venues in seoul to crowds of barely twenty people. the nights spent crammed in cheap motels, laughing over instant noodles and dreaming of the big stage. the way she used to look at you, her eyes filled with a light that made you believe anything was possible.

those days felt like a distant dream now.

the crowd’s energy was electric, their voices rising with every song. minjeong worked the stage like a pro, her movements fluid and confident as she engaged with the audience. and despite everything, you couldn’t help but be drawn to her.

when the band transitioned into the next song, you stepped toward the mic.

“before we go on,” you said, your voice cutting through the noise, “i just want to give a quick shoutout to josephine and jules. your dad gave me a ride earlier and he told me how much you love chaos theory. this one’s for you!”

the crowd erupted into cheers, and you saw a few people in the front row light up, waving excitedly.

the band launched into the next track, the energy building with each chord. for the audience, it was just another unforgettable concert.

for you, it was goodbye.

as the final notes of the second-to-last song faded into the applause, you stepped forward to the mic before minjeong could.

“this next song,” you began, your voice steady despite the storm inside you, “is called silver springs. it’s a song i wrote for someone i thought i knew. someone i thought i loved…my soulmate.”

the crowd hushed, their anticipation palpable.

her expression was unreadable when you glanced at her then, her hands gripping the microphone stand like it was the only thing keeping her steady. you didn’t look at her for long.

“this is for them,” you added, your voice softer now. “and for all of you.”

you started the first chords, the haunting melody filling the venue. the band hesitated for a split second before falling in behind you, their accompaniment careful and restrained.

the lyrics poured out of you, raw and unfiltered, each word a confession you’d been holding back for years.

“time casts a spell on you, but you won’t forget me,

i know i could have loved you, but you would not let me.”

as you sang, memories flooded your mind — the way she used to laugh, the nights you’d spent tangled together in whispered promises, the weight of her saying “i love you” like it was the only truth in the world.

you thought of the nights spent crammed into your parents’ garage; the hours of laughter, of dreaming, of believing that the five of you could conquer the world. and you did. you thought of your first show, a tiny venue with barely twenty people in the audience, but the way she had grinned at you afterward like it was the biggest triumph of your lives.

her voice joined yours in the chorus, her harmony blending with yours in a way that felt like second nature. despite everything, the connection between you burned just as brightly as it always had.

you thought of your first real show, a tiny venue with less than fifty people and how she had grabbed your hand afterward, grinning so brightly it made your chest ache. “this is just the beginning,” she had said, her voice filled with certainty.

and you remembered the way jimin and aeri used to fight over not being in sync — or the way yizhuo would hum soft melodies after a heavy day at the studio. you were all so young then.

the tears came, hot and unrelenting. they blurred your vision, but you kept singing, pouring every ounce of heartbreak and love and gratitude into the song.

the crowd noticed. their cheers softened into a reverent silence, a few scattered voices calling out, “we love you, y/n!”

you closed your eyes, the memories playing like a film reel in your mind. the late-night rehearsals, the endless van rides to nowhere gigs, the microwaved meals crammed into a barely functioning bus and the first time a fan told you that your music saved their life.

“i’ll follow you down,

’til the sound of my voice will haunt you.

give me just a chance,

you’ll never get away from the sound

of the woman that loved you.”

as the last chord rang out, you stood frozen, your guitar hanging heavily against your body. the crowd erupted into applause, their cheers thunderous and reverent.

you stepped back, your chest heaving, and wiped at the tears on your face before stepping up to face the crowd one last time.

“thank you, paris,” you took a sharp breath, your voice trembling but strong. “thank you everyone….for everything. being a part of chaos theory has been the greatest journey of my life.”

your gaze swept across the crowd, the band and finally landing on aeri.

“i want to thank the people who made this possible. giselle, for being the heartbeat of this band. your drive, your passion — it’s unmatched. thank you for keeping us grounded.”

aeri looked stunned, her drumsticks frozen in her hands, but she nodded, her lips twitching into a small, grateful smile.

“ningning,” you continued, your voice softening. “you’ve been the light of this band, the one who always reminded us why we started. your kindness and strength have carried us through the hardest times.”

yizhuo’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she gave you a small wave from behind the keyboard, her lips quivering into a smile.

“karina,” you said, turning toward her. “you’ve been my rock. the one who kept us moving forward when things felt impossible. your leadership, your fire — i’m proud to say you’ve been the backbone of this band.”

jimin’s jaw tightened, her eyes locked on yours. she gave a short nod, her face unreadable, though her eyes glistened.

finally, you turned to minjeong.

“and winter,” you smiled, your voice breaking slightly. “you’ve been the soul of chaos theory. your voice, your heart — it’s what made people fall in love with us. with you. and it made me believe in something…it kept all of us going, actually. thank you for that.”

minjeong’s lips parted, her eyes wide and shining with something you couldn’t name, but she didn’t speak.

you turned back to the crowd, your hands gripping the mic stand tightly.

“but tonight…” you paused, the words catching in your throat. “tonight is my last show.”

gasps rippled through the audience, and the band stood frozen behind you.

“thank you for being here. for believing in us. for believing in me. i’ll never forget you.”

you stepped back, your gaze lingering on the band for a moment before you turned and walked off the stage. behind you, the crowd roared, their voices a mix of cheers and cries but you didn’t hear them. you walked away from the music, the fans, and the band that had once been your whole world.

and this time, you knew you weren’t coming back.

[astracora]

Reckless Fool

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc

Warnings: Lots of hurt/some comfort.

Word Count: 970

Written: 29th December 2024

Notes: Pre-relationship Sylus/MC, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. I finally got out the lil brain thing that was like 'MC yells at Sylus'. There's so many memories involving this, one day we'll get a memory where MC is gentle with his wounds.

Masterlist

He’s reckless. That’s what you’ve settled on.

Throwing himself into danger. Getting himself injured.

He can’t die, so Sylus takes injury after injury. Covers you in battle, lets you shoot him, all in the name of that.

You know he can feel pain, he’s told you so.

You know that for some reason his evol just… stops. Not working, not healing, and those are the moments you fear your heart might stop.

When he’d been cursed by the cats, you’d worried that made him killable. On edge, angry at him when he followed you on a mission, his tail a stark reminder he didn’t have his powers.

It’s a stupid thing that finally breaks you.

He covers you when some kid on a bike is not paying attention. Pulling you into his arms. It’s stupid, if a gunshot to the heart didn’t kill the man. You doubt a kid on a bike would.

It doesn’t matter though, you feel the anger, the worry, the frustration settle in your gut.

He’s reckless, and you hate it.

You’re silent as you both walk home, he tries to talk to you, but you can’t respond with anything other than a word, or a grunt. It stews and it burns.

The feeling dregs up things you don’t want to think about. Fire and ash. Ice speared through skin. It hurts.

The moment you get through the apartment door, Sylus finally reaches out, hand clasping around your wrist as you keep walking, pulling you back. Whirling around to look at him. Whatever look you must have on your face, whatever he must see in your eyes causes his to widen. “Kitten?”

“Do you want to die?” You snarl, voice ice cold but trembling. His surprise gives you enough time to rip your hand from his grasp. Pulling away from him like his touch burns you.

You haven’t felt that since he held your throat in his grasp.

“I told you-”

The snarl is unbidden and unfamiliar, like you’ve grown fangs, become a beast with scales and horns. “You can’t die. You can’t die.” You reach up to push him, hands planted against his chest. Forcing him against the door. “So you’ve said. Like it changes anything. Like I feel any less horrific when I see you injured or bleeding.”

Sylus is a strong man, you’ve seen him fight and survive things that most would cower at. You’ve seen him lead and forge forwards. He has never been anything other than a pillar of strength, despite his words that the strong can’t always be strong. He has always tried to be, with and for you.

You feel sick to your stomach. Is this what you’ve done? Made him this reckless beast, in order to keep you safe?

You think about the injuries you’ve stitched up, the pain hissed through his teeth, the way he turned you away when he pulled bullets out of his flesh. ‘So you don’t have anymore nightmares of me.’

Like he knew intimately that the first time you lay awake thinking about his threat to your life.

It bubbles and it ripples, lava in your stomach, melting through you.

You pound a fist on his chest, as he stands there, hands wavering. Taking your expended frustrations. Salt on your cheeks as tears spill from your eyes, “Why don’t you care about yourself more?”

Pound.

“Why aren’t you more careful?”

Pound.

“Why don’t you stop throwing yourself into danger?”

Pound.

Pound.

Pound.

Skin under your fists as you hit, and hit, and hit. The pain burning through you.

It cracks and it splinters and you fall inwards and forwards, crumpling in on yourself. Sobbing, and breaking, and crumbling. He catches you as you fall, following you to the ground and pulling you up and into his lap as you shatter to pieces.

Pressing you against the chest you hit, holding you tightly, hands shaking against your skin.

“I can’t lose you too.” You rattle out, cracked and quiet. Mumbled into this skin, carried to him on tears.

He sighs against your hair, pressing a kiss against your head and when he speaks he sounds like he’s close to tears too, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You shake your head against him, “You can’t promise that, no one can.”

“No, I can’t, but as long as I can, as long as there’s any life in me, I’ll crawl to you if I have to.”

You hiccup, and cling to him. Trying to fuse, to be one, “It’s not enough.”

Sylus nods, “It’s not.” He uses both hands to pull your face away from him, so that he can look right into your eyes. Deep red, filled with tears he can’t shed, but trembling and wavering like a weak flame, “It’s never enough, but I won’t go down easy Beloved.”

You think of the ash and fire, of things taken from you, of lost memories and broken promises. You think of all the ways the world has failed you. You think of every night when you can’t sleep. Thinking of things you wish you could forget. As thumbs stroke your cheek, and this man who wants to be strong for you breaks his back against the torrent, you reach for his. Tracing under his eye, leaning forwards to place a kiss there.

For a moment you feel a ghost of a tear on your lips, before the sensation disappears. “Not just you.” You manage to let out, “Both of us.”

His chuckle is relieved and broken all in one, and he closes his eyes at your touch, nodding against your hold. “Both of us. Together.”

As you hold each other, against the cold and against the ashes, you whisper your apologies in kisses against his chest. Everywhere you hit, to scatter the fear to the shadows.

[weltraum-vaquero]

your writing is always fanTASTIC!!! i’m always hooked on every word in each fic you drop, keep up the great work 🙏🙏

also, being a lil self indulgent here, is there any chance we’ll be getting a prejac jayce fic in the future

Thank you ao much! And. Guess what anon. You’re getting a premature ejaculation Jayce fic Roight Neow.

My New Year’s gift to you all :] Enjoy!

18+ MDNI. Mature content under the cut.

Penetrative sex, GN reader, compatible for both AFAB and AMAB reader. Where there’s a hole, there’s a goal.

“O-oh.” It’s not rare for Jayce’s voice to pitch up so high it goes girlish, vulnerable. The scrunch of his brows is as delectable as the soft, easy stretch of him finally sliding home.

As opposed to what one might think by the looks of him, Jayce is a comfortable size: a stubby cock with a soft upwards curve, but so leaky it could likely rival the average cunt. You’ve prepped just enough, and it’s divine, it’s satiating, how he fills you exactly as much as you need.

His sticky stomach seams to yours with a delightful cocktail of your shared sweat, his legs and arms tremble like a newborn faun’s with how he barely keeps himself from crushing you. With a pitchy whine, his head falls to your shoulder, his breath coming ragged in your ear — as though he’s just ran up a few flights of stairs, and not licked and sucked you into an easy orgasm before haphazardly bottoming out inside you.

Jayce, bless him, tries to ride it out — the warm, dizzying grip of your walls on him — but as his chubby cock jerks within your clutch, you realize he can’t. He won’t.

“Uh oh—!” His right hand scrambles down between your bodies in an uncalculated hurry, squeezing at the root of his stout dick in what you realize is a desperate attempt to choke his orgasm down. And you also realize before he does that it’s a losing game. “N-ngh, no, nono, shit…”

Jayce only squeezes at himself harder, entire forearm flexing with the Sisyphean weight of his task. You know that in moments like these, though he tries, the most he’ll manage is an unsatisfying, painful, ruined orgasm. You don’t want that for him, not tonight, now when he’s been so good.

And what can you do, but take pity? It’s what you do best, especially when it comes to him.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist, and tug. Jayce obliges — his fatal flaw, always so eager to please. It will be his undoing.

“Let it happen,” you whisper into his ear encouragingly, legs wrapping around his waist to draw him in. He warbles a moan like it hurts, and his strong arms give below his weight like he’s weak.

And he is.

“S-sorry,” he mutters although given permission, before his hips slap to yours just once, to sheathe all of himself within, and he chokes on a pitiful sob.

All of him slumps on top of you and his cock, leaky as it already is, paints the inside of his condom white, spurts it full. He pulses against your insides with his orgasm, dick swollen and desperate, and he clings to you as though he might fall apart at the joints if not for your arms around him.

You can only stroke his hair through it, cooing at him like you would at a scared animal, kissing his dewy forehead in encouragement. Somehow, his spent cock still twitches at your words. You let him have as long as he needs, you hold him until his breath calms and his arms stop trembling.

It’s a long, sweet time before he lifts his forehead from against your shoulder.

“ ‘m sorry,” he says again. “I didn’t mean…”

You nod. “I know, Jayce.”

“Do you want me to make it up to you? I can use my mouth on you again, or, uh,” he scans the room for inspiration, and his eyes land on the nightstand, “oh! I can fetch the dildo—“

Your palm finds his cheek, and you’re drawing him to face you. Jayce swallows nervously at the heartbeat of silence between the two of you before you speak.

“You can make it up for me by not worrying about it.” Your thumb circles lovingly at the long-healed nick on his cheekbone. “You know I love it when you enjoy yourself so much you can’t help it. It’s… such a good look on you.”

[grapejuicebluesrry]

you can find the rest of the posts under the tag 'grapejuicebluesrry 2024 fic rec'.

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I’ll Follow You Down (25K) by TiredTiredTz 

With their fifteenth anniversary almost upon them, Rolling Stone speaks to Louis Tomlinson of One Direction to set the record straight before they take to the stage for their massively coveted One Night Only anniversary performance for which tickets sold out in a record-breaking 1.6 seconds.

With the band’s internal relationships during their heyday leading many to liken them to a modern day Fleetwood Mac, it is no surprise that Rolling Stone journalist Rob Sheffield even once cited the whimsical and charismatic Harry Styles as being the Stevie Nicks to Louis Tomlinson’s intensely brooding Lindsey Buckingham. The pair’s earth-shattering love affair which began when Tomlinson was 18 and Styles just 16, came to an abrupt end when the band parted ways for a so-called ‘eighteen month hiatus’ in 2016, coming shortly after fellow bandmate Zayn Malik’s departure in 2015.

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elephant juice (32K) by stylinsoncity | @stylinsoncity

harry doesn't understand boundaries. louis doesn't mind at all.

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To you I can admit, I'm just too soft for all of it (28K) by starryhaze | @starryhaze28

“Harry?” Louis asks when he hears the frantic crying coming through the speaker. “H, darling what's wrong?”

Concerned, Louis puts on his shoes as he keeps hearing the sobs. It’s the middle of the night and the phone call has definitely pulled Louis out of his deep slumber, but Harry is crying, and Louis has to be with him.

“It’ll be okay, baby, I'm gonna come over, okay? You just- Haz you have to send me your address, yeah? Can you do that for me?” Louis asks, trying to remain as poised as possible as he presses his phone between his ear and shoulder so he can grab his jacket.

“No.” Harry cries out. “It's all wrong, Lou- It’s-” Another sob. “I hate it, Lou, I hate it so, so much, make it stop.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

the nesting shop au

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It Feels Different When You’re With Me (45K) by Rearviewdreamer | @all-these-larrythings

Harry fell in love with sign language as a kid. He never imagined the first love of his life would lead him straight to his second.

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The Stages Of A Boy Losing His Soulmate (44K) by vintagemaroon

How To Lose Your Husband: A Step By Step Guide Written and narrated by Louis Tomlinson. SOLD OUT. Over the span of 7 brief months, Louis Tomlinson successfully left his now ex-husband in search of true happiness. Now, living the lavish life he deserves, he tells his story in his New York Times bestseller! Married folk all across the globe are flocking to local booksellers to get their hands on this one-of-a-kind novel. Order yours now!

or an exes to lovers AU where Louis and Harry’s marriage falls apart and Louis writes a book about it which skyrockets him into fame. While Harry is a rising rock star, Louis can’t help but swerve off the road every time one of Harry’s songs plays on the radio, forever haunted by past memories. When they both happen to be guests on a talk show, how will they react?

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Hiding Green Smiles (45K) by HoldingOnToChaos | @holdingontochaos

When Louis goes with Liam to a hidden sex shop, he discovers a new sex toy, the BiteMat, and he can't believe his luck. He loves being bitten, has a biting kink, even, and now he can be bitten over his bonding spot without the fear of anything permanent.

He hastily buys it to try with Harry, his friend and roommate, and his regular heat/rut partner for the last eighteen months. They've been friends-with-benefits outside heat or rut for eight months now, and Louis' been desperately in love with Harry for at least five of those months.

-- Or the BiteMat fic

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i'll make this feel like home (49K) by zouisclimax

Harry to groans himself and then takes a deep breath. “Okay, well. Here’s the thing. I peed on a stick.”

Louis isn’t able to get more than a shocked “What!” out before Harry’s steamrolling on.

“I peed on a stick and it says it’s positive, but you always prattle on about how it’s best to go to the doctor’s before you get excited, you know to confirm it because sometimes hormones are off or you have like a tumor or some shit and get false positives and what if I’m dying and-”

“You’re pregnant?!” Louis shouts out, stomach dropping as the words leave his mouth.

“Um, yeah… maybe.”

[the one where Louis' hopelessly in love with his best mate... who just happens to be pregnant with another man's baby.]

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discover more fics under the cut!

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Could Be A Catastrophe (29K) by hazzahtomlinson | @itsnotreal

He watched as the other man scrunched up his nose, but slid his hand into Louis' nonetheless. “So, where are we going?”

Louis rolled his eyes at the change in subject. “To get some lunch and then I was hoping I could come back to yours?” He glanced over at the taller man with pleading eyes.

Harry’s eyes widened. “That’s very forward of you.”

Louis eyebrows scrunched before he realized the implication behind his words, “Oh. No. Shit. Sorry. I just meant that I wanted to hang out with your cats.”

Or Louis is one of the two veterinarians in town and somehow gets lucky enough for Harry’s three cats to be his clients.

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you, in every color (38K) by blueskiesrry | @blueskiesrry

But then he thinks of the soft curves and sharp angles he had imagined when he first drew up the sketches for the collection, the specific green of fabric he had picked with the thought of how they’d saturate green eyes, the glossy silks and soft velvets he had once pictured sitting delicately against milky skin.

“We’re drunk,” Louis decides on a sigh. “We shouldn’t make any drastic decisions now.”

or: fashion designer louis and his model bf harry have vowed to never work together again, but with the show for louis’ first solo line on the horizon, they decide to give it another shot

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Break A Leg (24K) by unscattered_horizons

Louis Tomlinson is a writer living in Brighton with his two dogs. A new neighbor moves in next door and Louis is instantly charmed. Harry's shy, Louis is afraid of scaring them off, and it might take a medical emergency but damn it, fate is going to get these two together. With the help of Louis' dogs, codependent friends, and a long night at the A&E, Harry and Louis might find what they've been looking for.

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Oh, That's What I Want (38K) by lululawrence | @lululawrence

“Oh my god, does that mean we get to go dancing?” Liam asked, clapping her hands.

“I’m 42 years old, Liam,” Louis said, her voice flat. “I don’t think the place to pick up men my age is at a club downtown.”

“Where do you want to pick them up, then?” Zayn asked gently. “Wanna go to a classy bar? We can get all dressed up, show off the tits we didn’t have at 18, and see who we can find.”

Louis pursed her lips. “That sounds a lot more my speed, but I was serious when I said I don’t have anything sexy. I haven’t felt sexy in at least a decade, I don’t think.” That made her pause. “Fuck. Our marriage really has been going downhill for a long time, hasn’t it? We had no idea that we’d somehow switched from romantic partners to roommates.”

“All the more reason to go out and get you laid,” Zayn said, nodding to herself.

Louis is 42 and newly divorced with her four daughters off to college when she realizes all the plans she used to have for her life no longer fit. Just as she's starting to figure things out, she meets Harry Styles who proves sometimes starting over turns out so much better than sticking with the original plan.

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Just for Tonight (I can be yours) (42K) by SadaVeniren | @sadaveniren

Harry, prince of Cestrescir, has been betrothed to Ludvic, prince of Yorvik, since birth. He'd accepted a loveless marriage as his duty to his country, until an accident threw him in the path of a gentle alpha

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the very last drops of an ink pen (47K) by staybeautiful | @harruandlou

Just after midnight on Harry's 30th birthday, he realizes he can't do another year without change. So, he forces it. Breaking up with Louis might have hurt less if they weren't co-owners of Studio 28, living within walking distance of each other, and if he wasn't the thing Harry was most afraid of losing. Secluding themselves on their shared estate in an attempt to save their working relationship may shed a light on where everything else started going wrong. And perhaps give them a chance to fix it.

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Here Where Life Beats (42K) by MarWritesStuff (Ta_Ma) | @marwritesstuff

Harry is a single mum who moves to London for a new job and fears that the move might be affecting his four-year-old pup too much. But when Noah starts at his new school, they meet Louis Tomlinson. A sweet alpha who seems to be almost too perfect to be real.

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you’re the habit that i can’t break (24K) by ohpleaselarry

The boys decide to have a belated band reunion, just the five of them. One week, one cabin in the mountains, five boys.

Harry and Louis haven’t spoken sober in a year.

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Sugar, Sugar (25K) by parmahamlarrie | @parmahamlarrie

Meeting your soulmate was the most joyous event of one’s life… or at least, it’s supposed to be. Harry, in all of his 25 year old wisdom, was suspicious of the role fate plays in everyone's lives. He'd rather focus his time dating older men he meets off of a sugar baby website.

Louis isn’t waiting with bated breath for his soulmate either. He has more important things to worry about than love. Mainly, his career as a writer, publishing under a pseudonym. He spends most of the year buried under research and manuscripts, taking as much time as he would like, much to his publishers' chagrin. After receiving many millions after the death of his Aunt Ethel when he was young, he technically never has to work again. As far as soulmates go, he figures if it happens, he will be so old that he’ll be stuck in his ways. Or he’ll have grey eyes forever, he doesn’t fucking care. He can get his needs met through a sugar baby website.

Or… The Sugar baby soulmate AU

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a little, then suddenly (34K) by HoldingOnToChaos | @holdingontochaos

Gray-Asexual (demisexual) Harry falls in love and gets attracted to his best friend Louis after fifteen years of friendship.

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Wanna Be Loved By You (40K) by likelarry | @likelarryfics

Harry and Louis have just finalised their divorce when Harry finds out he's pregnant with Louis' baby. Together, they have to find a way to work on their relationship, despite them ending on a bad note, for the sake of their child and maybe along the way, they relearn why they'd fallen in love with each other in the first place.

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Something About Liminal Spaces (34K) by kingsofeverything | @kingsofeverything

Searching for inspiration for his latest book, and hoping distance will help heal his broken heart, Louis Tomlinson heads to the village of Piha on the west coast of New Zealand’s north island.

There he meets Harry Styles.

Fifteen years older than Harry, Louis tries to keep his distance, but Harry is impossible to avoid and harder to ignore.

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Take Our Bodies Higher (26K) by littlelouishiccups | @littlelouishiccups

Harry wasn’t often caught off guard at his job anymore. He called different men Sir, Master, or Daddy for work almost every week, but he’d never been told he was a good boy in a voice quite like that.

In which Harry is a phone sex operator and Louis dials a wrong number.

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i love you (it’s ruining my life) (40K) by wildestdreams | @thelavendrhaze

A situationship AU where Harry is one of the most sought-after omega supermodels in the world and Louis is the alpha lead singer of the indie supergroup, The Rogue. The last thing either of them wants is to fall in love.

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Tossing Round Like Coins (25K) by LetTheMusicMoveYou | @letthemusicmoveyou28

Louis is an alpha who does manly alpha things like play professional football and lift weights at the gym, where he meets alpha Harry who wears nail polish and dates other alphas. Louis isn’t put off by Harry’s strange tendencies, more like intrigued. And maybe just maybe, he’s interested

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take me back, take me back (32K) by eynap | @panye

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Niall says. He puts his head between his hands. “How is this happening?”

“I didn’t want to say anything,” Harry says. “I wanted you to figure it out on your own.”

“You think I like Shawn, too?” Niall asks and he’s shocked. “If anyone is supposed to tell me that I’m gay it’s supposed to be my gay best friend!”

Or, Niall invites his new friend Shawn to Zayn and Liam's three-day wedding in Napa Valley, California. He gets way more than he expected.

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Until (61K) by allwaswell16 | (@allwaswell16

Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle’s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star.

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Unbonded (24K) by jacaranda_bloom | @jacaranda-bloom

Harry is an omega who has been cast out from his pack, Louis is the alpha leader of the pack where Harry finds a new home, Liam is an alpha with heart of gold, and Niall is a cook who can't seem to stop setting himself on fire.

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Heart Beat (35K) by allwaswell16 | @allwaswell16

Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums.

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gorgeous (it makes me so mad) (29K) by resurrectdead

Harry’s a coffee barista with nothing really going on for him except for the occasional flirting with, some, particularly hot male customers. But when a new guy starts coming in, he suddenly doesn’t know what to make out of any single situation anymore.

or: Harry is a hot mess. Liam is a brilliant roommate. Niall is a wise lesbian co-worker. Clifford is a good boy. Louis is a bad boy. Circumstances are bizarre.

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Rewriting the Melody (26K) by LadyAJ_13 | @ladyaj-13

Louis doesn’t get put in One Direction. This time, the path to true love takes the long way round, including singing in toilet cubicles, fruit baskets, and long distance band counselling from someone who really doesn’t know what he’s doing, he just wants to keep talking to Harry.

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Where Life Changed Us (22K) by ExiledQueenCatalog

Omega Harry has a rare genetic disorder where he has no sense of smell. This has lots of odd effects such as him not being able to smell his own scent but most brutally, not being able to scent the way his inner omega desires. It also leaves him as a sort of odd-ball to the community, leaving him becoming touch starved as no one wants the omega who can’t scent. Until finally, he meets the right alpha.

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No One Does It Better (49K) by nodibs

Harry's an alcoholic and Louis is a bartender. The first time they meet isn't the first time they've met.

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You Fit Me Better Than My Favorite Sweater (I Will Love You 'Til the End of Time) (31K) by 1Diamondinthesun | @1diamondinthesun

The first person Harry sees through the viewfinder of a camera is Louis Tomlinson.

Snapshots from a decade of Harry and Louis’ life as told through a collection of cameras, milestones and 90s references.

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Life Was a Song, You Came Along (37K) by rainbowninja167 | @rainbowninja

It's embarrassing how long it takes Louis to recognize his own song. Niall had sung it as a bright, hopeful love song, and that’s honestly how Louis had always assumed it should sound. But this new voice, slow and rough, stripped of any backing instrument, has infused the lyrics with just the tumultuous mix of fear and defiance that Louis can remember so clearly from the night he wrote them. It’s not a comfortable thing, to feel like someone is singing all your secrets back to you.  

Louis is a songwriter trapped in a lie that could ruin his best friend's career. Harry owns a record store, distrusts everyone in the music industry on principle, but loves Niall Horan's newest album. A modern retelling of Singin' in the Rain.

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a perpetual sunrise (31K) by moonshinelouis (lunarflwrs) | @moonshinelouis

Louis Tomlinson lives the archetype of a successful man: he has a big white house, a gorgeous wife, and adorable daughters. Happiness is a superfluity, really. And his daughters' dimpled piano teacher is nothing more than a sinful distraction.

1950s AU.

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Only (33K) by allwaswell16 | @allwaswell16

Although Louis Tomlinson lived most of his life on the most remote island in the world, now he’s ready to leave home, attend university, and maybe have a chance at finding his soulmate. Prince Harry Styles reluctantly leaves London for yet another diplomatic visit, this time to the tiny island of Tristan da Cunha.

Or the one where the electric touch of Louis’ soulmate isn’t enough to discount that he's a bit of a dickhead.

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Heart Beat (35K) by allwaswell16 | @allwaswell16

Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums.

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Seeing Blind (46K) by zedi

Louis finally turns his head in Liam’s direction, knows his face is showing the longing he’s been aching with ever since it took root in his chest. “What the fuck do I do, Liam? He wouldn’t want me like that, but I want-” his voice cracks, and he turns his face back downwards. “What do you do when you’re not perfect for the person who’s perfect for you?”

OR the one where Harry’s an independent omega who likes to have his fun and Louis is the blind alpha that changes Harry’s priorities.

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Not having a breakdown! (I'm just here for the kid.) (28K) by louisismycat (tiflamomet) | @liminalkitty369

Harry has to park outside his ex-husband’s (Louis) wedding so that he can whisk their kid away if a meltdown ensues during the day. Guests will not know this and will only see him parked outside, it cannot be stressed enough, his ex-husband’s wedding.

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At Least Let Me Buy You Dinner First (35K) by Anonymouis

“I said, Harry. As in Styles. AKA you. You’re pretty and certainly a piece of art if you ask me.” Louis mewls.

“Oh,” Harry breathes. He takes a moment taking in Louis.

Louis watches his eyes work their way all over his face and body trying to read him. Luckily, he knows just how to read Harry. The moment their eyes meet again, Louis leans in a little at a time, as slowly as possible. His heart racing, giving Harry all the time to back out, but then, Harry is reaching around Louis’ wrist and sliding their hands together, lacing their fingers and leaning in as well.

Then…

The bell above the door rings.

They both pull back at light speed, sniffling and coughing from almost being caught. Harry trips over his own feet with the force that he used. Giggles fall from both of them while Louis steadies him.

“First day with legs there, bambi?”

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2 a.m. texts (30K) by everysingleday

Harry has just come out and, with his best friend Louis’ support, he might finally be brave enough to go on a date with the guy he’s been chatting with on a dating app. Meanwhile, there’s a cat that wants to murder Louis, a fast-approaching deadline for Harry to find a new place to live, and this minor situation wherein he and Louis can’t seem to stop making out. It’s not a big deal. Louis is just being supportive.

—

aka, a practice kissing fic.

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Neon Red Glow (20K) by unscattered_horizons

It's Christmas Eve Eve and Zayn is overwhelmed with how much wrapping is left to do. Calling Liam over to his house to help him is the only way out of this mess. Things are cosy and warm and there's holiday cheer. They decorate and they joke and they sip peppermint tea, and before the night is over, they've both unwrapped a Christmas gift they didn't expect.

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Are You Nervous? (22K) by Ioudloudlove

Harry and Louis have been friends for almost twelve years after a chance meeting at primary school. They've grown up together, the very best of friends. They like football, drinking with their friends and picking up pretty girls.

When they're dared by the rest of their football team to play a game of 'Are You Nervous?' at a party, they accept immediately. Neither of them are the type to back down from a bet.

As they play the game and things start to get more steamy, who will cave first? Will they call or truce or will they push the boundaries in the name of winning? And what if it stops being a game and turns into a revelation?

The stakes are high and their resistance is low...

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When Harry Met Louis (45K) by disgruntledkittenface | @disgruntledkittenface

The first time Harry and Louis met, they hated each other.

The second time they met, Louis didn’t even remember Harry.

The third time they met, they became friends.

They were friends for a long time.

And then they weren’t.

(When Harry Met Sally AU)

[lechrts]

Hiii, can you do a angsty franco drabble if you haven't already ❤️

Worldwide. ✷ Franco Colapinto

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x reader

Summary: When you and him say your final goodbyes.

Word Count: 1.7k

Disclaimer/s: angst,,,,, i fear…… I….

Vera’s Voice! i think this came out alright… kinda boof ngl…. i’m So iffy when writing angst because i cant. HOPE I DID U JUSTICE THO!!! thank u for requesting ^_^

The airport was a blur of noise and movement, the hum of conversations blending with the echoes of overhead announcements.

But in that moment, everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. The world was moving around you, but you were frozen in place, standing in front of Franco with a heart that felt like it was being torn in two.

“You didn’t have to walk me in,” You said softly, trying to sound casual, but your voice wavered at the end.

“I wanted to,” Franco replied, his voice low and thick with something you couldn’t quite name. He shifted your duffel bag from one shoulder to the other, his hands restless, unsure of what to do with them.

It was as though every movement was an attempt to keep himself grounded, to stop from falling apart.

You had known this day would come.

You had known that the distance, the different directions your lives were headed in, would pull you apart eventually.

But even so, the reality of it—the fact that this was really happening—still felt like a punch to the gut.

You both walked in silence, past the shops and through the busy crowds, heading toward the international line for the security checkpoint.

There was so much to say, but the words got stuck in your throat. Every time you opened your mouth, it felt like you were going to break.

“I’m really gonna miss you,” Franco finally said, his voice soft, like he was trying to keep the sorrow hidden.

The words hit you harder than you expected. You had tried so hard to prepare for this moment, but nothing could have prepared you for the sting of hearing him say it.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” You managed to whisper, your heart aching as you forced a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He looked at you, his gaze full of unspoken emotion, and it nearly broke you.

Franco was always the one with the answers, the one who knew how to navigate the chaos of the world.

But right now, you could see the uncertainty in his eyes—the same uncertainty you felt swirling in your chest.

“I don’t want this to be the end,” He said, his voice rough. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Your chest tightened, the words he spoke pulling at something deep inside you. “You’re not losing me,” you whispered. “We’re just… we’re just in different places. Our lives are going in different directions, and we can’t keep pretending they’re not.”

The truth hung in the air, heavy and painful, like a weight that neither of you could escape.

Franco stopped walking, his eyes searching yours for something, anything that could change the situation. “I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “But it’s hard. So hard to let go of you.”

Your throat closed up, and you forced yourself to swallow past the lump. “I know,” You repeated, your voice barely a whisper. “It’s hard for me too.”

But you knew deep down that this was the right choice, even though every part of you wanted to deny it.

The love between you was undeniable, it had always been there, but it wasn’t enough anymore. The timing was wrong.

The distance—both physical and emotional—was too much to overcome.

“I can’t ask you to wait for me,” He said quietly, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment.

“But I will.” You said quickly, stepping closer to him. You reached out, brushing your fingers over his arm. “This was never about you holding me back. You’ve always supported me, even when it was hard.”

“But it’s not fair,” He said, his voice thick with emotion. “You deserve someone who can be there for you all the time, not just when I have a few days off. You deserve someone who doesn’t disappear for months at a time.”

The lump in your throat grew, threatening to swallow you whole. “And you deserve someone who won’t make you feel guilty for chasing your dreams, Franco. You’re doing something amazing with your life.”

He reached for your hand then, his fingers brushing against yours, as if he was trying to hold on to you, to something that felt real before it slipped through his fingers.

He stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a tear.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t a desperate kiss, or a goodbye full of false promises.

It was soft, slow, and devastating.

It was filled with every ounce of love you still had for each other, with all the things you wished you could have said but didn’t have the words for.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours for a moment, his breathing uneven. “You’ll always mean everything to me,” He whispered.

You nodded, your hands clinging to his jacket as if letting go would make it all too real. “And you to me.”

He stepped back then, his hands slipping out of yours, and the absence of his touch felt like a piece of you had been torn away.

“So, this is it?” You ask. Tears welling in your eyes as he handed over your bag.

“This is it.” His voice confirmed although it sounded like he didn’t want to say it. His eyes were glued to you before he glanced up and gazed at the security line awaiting you.

“You should go.” He finally said. The tears in his eyes now falling.

“Yeah.” You nod, your lips trembling.

“I love you,” He whispered, the words so quiet, so raw, they felt like they were tearing him apart.

“I love you too,” You said, tears finally slipping from your eyes. It was a confession you’d known for so long, a truth you had carried with you through everything.

And with those words, he nodded and briefly smiled to himself before he looked at you again and watched you walk off.

Your figure grew smaller with every step.

He stayed rooted to his spot, your hands gripping your bag, as if that could somehow hold you together.

When you reached the line, you glanced back one last time. His eyes met yours across the distance, and even from afar, you could see the tears glistening in them.

And then he turned.

You knew this was the right decision, the logical choice.

But logic didn’t make it hurt any less.

Loving him had been the greatest thing you’d ever known.

Letting him go was the hardest.

And as you walked toward your gate, alone, the only thing you could do was hope that someday, somehow, your paths would cross again.

But that was sadly, not aligned for the foreseeable future.

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated! ^_^ and just lmk if you wanna be apart of my permanent tag list!!!

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress @iovepoem @piastri-vfx

[fishing-lesbian-catgirl]

This is kind of a personal ramble but…

In my last semester of high school I had already gotten accepted into college, took no difficult classes, and had the freedom to take 2 art classes in which I was the only person in “art 3” a class that happened in the same room at the same time as art 2. I was basically free to do whatever I wanted.

That semester I decided to make a scale model of Summoner’s Rift, the map from league of legends. I worked really hard on it and was proud of how close I got it. But it was too big to be displayed anywhere and too fragile to be hung on a wall or anything. So I left it at my parents house when I went off for college, where it collected dust.

This year I went back to their house to stay for the holidays, and my mom wanted me to clean out my room. Along with many other things she asked if she could throw it away.

The map became outdated less than a year after I made it, when they added alcoves to the top and bottom lanes. Later years made even bigger changes making it even more outdated. The map is made of salt dough on a piece of cardboard, with the towers being made of hot glue gun sticks I cut and carved that hold wire staves. Everything is painted with cheap low-budget high school art class acrylic paint. I never had time to make a little model of Baron Nashor, the dragons, the shopkeepers, or any of the jungle camps. It just looks barren, empty, and lonely.

The map is covered in dust. It has no function (despite my idea at the time of making it that I could model jungle pathing on it). It doesn’t look pretty. It takes up space. It’s hard to display. It’s hard to appreciate. Objectively speaking it is a piece of junk that is wasting space in my parents’ house. And despite being addicted since 2015, I haven’t even played league in a year.

But it’s something I made. Something I worked hard on. Something I burned my fingers with a hot glue gun far too many times to be seen as junk to me. It’s useless, kind of ugly, takes up space, and yet I can’t bare the thought of throwing it away.

As an art piece it has no meaning, no emotions to invoke when you look at it. It’s some high school kid’s creation of the thing she saw in the game she loved. To anyone but me it is a piece of junk, even if you know what it’s from you have no reason to care. But when I look at it I see all the little details. All the extra touches, all the mistakes I didn’t have time to fix, and all the ways time has aged it poorly.

It would’ve crushed that kid’s heart to see something she worked so hard on destroyed. Did she not already suffer enough from the dysphoria, from the way her friend groups fell apart, the way she got burnt out from trying hard in school, the way everything in her life felt like it was falling apart and the things she enjoyed stopped being fun. She already went through so much, she was so strong and she’s the only reason I’m alive now. So I can’t do it, I can’t destroy it. I took dozens of pictures from as many angles as I could to preserve it as best I can. But it doesn’t feel like enough.

I am her, but I don’t care about it for me, I care about it for her. But she’s not here, she’s gone. Nothing I do now can affect her in my memories. So why do I care?

[yeomongi]

𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 — 𝐩𝐭. 𝟐

read part 1 first if you haven’t!

genre : angst

pairing : hongjoong x you

word count : 1k-ish??

warnings : emotional vulnerability (crying, feelings of hurt, desperation,) insecurity, past relationships, intense arguments , idk what else to add!!

synopsis : hongjoong returns home soaked and heartbroken, confronting you about the pieces of your past that make him feel second best. through tears and a heated argument, you promise to let go of the past and prove he’s your future. slowly, the cracks begin to mend.

note : ahh a request for pt 2!!! i’m assuming you liked the last part which makes me so happy 🥹 this part is a bit shorter and focuses more on working things out — i couldn’t and the story with them on fully bad terms.. 😓 i hope you enjoy this one too!! interactions and reblogs appreciated! <3

the front door creaked open, and you turned toward the sound, your heart sinking at the sight of him. hongjoong stood there, dripping wet, his hair plastered to his forehead and his clothes clinging to his frame. his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his gaze distant as he stepped inside.

“joong…” you whispered, standing up from the couch where you’d been waiting.

he didn’t respond. his silence was deafening, the sound of rain hitting the windows the only thing filling the room.

“you’re soaked,” you said, your voice trembling. you moved toward him hesitantly, wanting to reach out but unsure if he’d let you. “let me get you a towel—”

“don’t,” he said sharply, his tone stopping you in your tracks. his eyes finally met yours, and the pain in them was almost unbearable. “don’t act like you care now.”

his words hit you like a slap, and you stared at him in shock. “what are you talking about? of course, i care.”

he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “do you? because it doesn’t feel like it. it feels like i’m just… convenient. like i’m just here to fill the space they left behind.”

your throat tightened, panic bubbling in your chest. “that’s not true. you’re not some replacement, hongjoong. i—”

“then why?” he cut you off, his voice rising. “why do you still have all of that? why do you keep pieces of someone who broke your heart, who’s not even in your life anymore?”

tears pricked at your eyes, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “because it’s my past, joong. it’s not about them; it’s about me. those things are part of my story, but they don’t define how i feel about you.”

he took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “and how am i supposed to believe that? how am i supposed to believe that when you can’t even let go of them?”

your voice cracked as you responded, the tears spilling over. “it’s not about letting go! it’s just… it’s not that simple. those memories don’t mean i love you any less.”

“but they hurt me,” he said, his voice breaking. his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and for a moment, he looked as though he might fall apart. “every time i think about it, every time i picture you with them… it’s like i can’t breathe.”

“joong…” you reached for him, but he stepped back, shaking his head.

“don’t,” he whispered, his voice raw. “i don’t know if i can do this. i don’t know if i can keep being second place in your heart.”

your tears fell freely now, your chest aching as you watched him unravel in front of you. “you’re not second place! you’ve never been second place. i don’t know how to make you believe me, but i love you, hongjoong. i love you more than anything.”

“then prove it,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours. “prove it to me. show me that i’m the one you want.”

you hesitated, your mind racing. “what do you want me to do?”

his voice was quiet but firm. “let it go. all of it. the pictures, the letters… everything. if you really love me, then let it go.”

the room felt like it was closing in on you, the weight of his request pressing down on your chest. part of you wanted to argue, to defend the small pieces of your past that you’d held onto. but the pain in his eyes was undeniable, and you knew that nothing mattered more than him.

“okay,” you said finally, your voice trembling. “okay. if that’s what you need, then i’ll do it.”

his shoulders sagged, and he let out a shaky breath, as if he’d been holding it in for too long. but the tension between you didn’t fade entirely.

“it’s not just about the stuff,” he said after a long pause. “it’s about… it’s about how i feel like you’re still holding onto something that doesn’t include me. i just want to feel like i’m enough for you.”

you stepped closer, reaching for his hand. this time, he didn’t pull away. “you are enough, joong. you’ve always been enough. i’m sorry if i ever made you feel like you weren’t. i’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

his eyes filled with tears, and one slipped down his cheek. “i just… i don’t want to lose you. but i also don’t want to keep feeling like this.”

“you won’t lose me,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “we’ll figure this out together. i’ll let go of the past, but you have to let me prove to you that you’re my future.”

his hand tightened around yours, and he nodded slowly, his walls finally beginning to crack. “okay,” he said softly. “okay.”

you pulled him into your arms, holding him tightly as he finally let his tears fall. the rain outside continued to pour, but inside, the storm between you was beginning to calm.

—

later that night, as you sat on the floor together beside the box of memories, hongjoong traced his fingers over your hand. “i don’t need perfection,” he murmured, his voice soft but steady. “i just need to know i matter to you. that i’m not a temporary part of your life.”

you looked at him, your gaze unwavering. “you matter more than anything. and i’ll spend every day proving that to you, if that’s what it takes.”

he nodded, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. the tension between you wasn’t gone entirely, but it was a start. and for now, that was enough.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Hi! Cause you forced me to acknowledge how many damn WIPs I have (rude) I shall now send you an ask about yours 😌 So I'm gonna be super shameless and predictable and ask about that one Spite Lucanis x Rook fic I spy in there 👀👀👀

from this tumblr game thank you!! :)

ahahahaha well. this was indeed a character exploration about Spite's involvement in Rook/Lucanis' relationship but uhhhhhhh taken to the logical and less favorable conclusion than i have seen in fanfic so far, hence the word "interruption" in the title 😂 posting a longer snippet because... really i've just been writing random scenes for their relationship and am not sure if/when/how i will structure it into fanfic yet (handful of one shots? a longer thing? i am so low on free time though 😭 idk)

timing is after the romance lock-in but before the act 3 romance scene, so Rook & Lucanis are together as a couple but haven't slept together yet... though they may have been heading that way before Spite decided to get involved. under a readmore for length!

STOP, Spite suddenly roars, surging forward from the back of Lucanis’ awareness. The demon’s wings burst forth, their first downward stroke hard enough that it sends him reeling backwards, away from Rook. “What?” he cries, and “—what?” Rook echoes in sudden alarm, as their bodies tumble apart, Lucanis barely managing to throw out an arm to brace his fall as he crashes to the stone floor of the pantry. His feet tangle in his discarded waistcoat and trousers as he leaps back to his feet, nearly sending him to the floor for a second time.

He looks around wildly, for the attackers or whoever else is responsible for Spite’s sudden disquiet. But there is no one. No demons, no Antaam pulled into the Fade, not even one of their companions wandering too close on accident. He fumbles at the table for one of his knives anyway, trying to listen, to figure out where the danger is coming from. “What’s going on? Spite, what happened?!”  There, Spite says, all calm satisfaction now. If you kept going. She would have come. Now she wants more. “She—excuse me? Spite, what are you talking about?” Lucanis demands. She will think about you all night now, the demon replies happily. If you kept going. It would have been over. “I—why would you do that?! That’s not how it works!” “What’s he saying? What’s going on?” Rook stands in front of the bed, frantically staring around too, searching for enemies that clearly never existed. Her hair is still rumpled from where his hands had tangled in it, her breaths still coming fast and heavy.  He cannot believe he has to not only sit here, disgraced and ashamed, but he is left alone in actually explaining what’s happened. “Mierda. He did it on purpose. He thinks it’s—fun. To stop us.” He presses a hand over his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Spite—ohhh. Oh.” “I’m going to kill him,” Lucanis says flatly. “I’m going to take myself out back and—” I’m RIGHT, Spite howls in defiance, baring his teeth inches from Lucanis’ face. Despite himself, he flinches back. You wanted. Her to think about you. MORE! “No, stop that, it’s fine,” Rook tries to soothe him, her hands scrabbling to re-fasten her tunic around her waist. As though this catastrophe is something she can just brush off. “I guess we should figure out, uh, how Spite—how you and he—” “I can’t talk about this,” he mutters into his palm as he drags his hand down his face, dropping to sit back down on the cot again.. “This is not happening.” He knew Spite was a part of him. He was resigned to his presence, was growing used to the new precautions his life involved. He even, though he hated to admit it to himself, enjoyed the extra momentum and power the demon brought when they fought against enemies. What he hadn’t considered was the demon barging into the personal, intimate—   You did it BEFORE, the demon sulks. And it WORKED. She wanted to kiss you more because you stopped. “That was different,” he snaps in response. He ignores Rook’s baffled expression at his half of the conversation.  “I mean—he is Spite,” I guess, Rook acknowledges. “Uh, maybe I should leave you two to talk about this together?”

Panic surges in his chest, as he bites back his urge to shout No! at the suggestion. But she doesn’t deserve to half-witness the mess of the argument he’s already having. He was an idiot. He should never have assumed something might be going right in his life for once. “I don’t even know what to say to him,” he can’t help saying in exasperation. “He doesn’t listen, just does—whatever he wants.” What YOU wanted! You SAID it! I was only HELPING. “Well. You said you didn’t have much experience with, um, relationships—” “I don’t think this counts as the kind of experience anyone has, Rook,” Lucanis responds, dropping his head into his hands again, elbows resting on his knees. “I can’t exactly stop him from—he sees what I see. What I… feel.” Admitting it fills him with shame. He should have told her before this. Whether or not she’s guessed, there’s no avoiding it now, or pretending anything in his life could ever again be normal. Simple.  “No, I just meant—maybe try to explain it to him, is all.” Rook sighs, and he can hear the shift of fabric over skin as she tugs her clothing back into place. He wonders if she can see the bright flush of shame to his skin behind his hands. “He’s only got your memories for how to interpret the world,” she continues. “Maybe he… misunderstood something.” He doesn’t want to tell her that Spite probably understood more than he did himself. Lucanis certainly hadn’t realized just how close she’d been to—he shakes his head to clear away the thought.  “You two will figure this out,” Rook says, with a firm conviction he does not mirror. She leans forward and kisses the top of his head, but he can’t bring himself to raise his face to meet her gaze. “I’ll see you at dinner later.” He hears her soft footsteps pad to the door, and slip away, out of the kitchen and back to the other parts of the Lighthouse. Maybe if he never leaves the pantry, he won’t ever have to think about this again. Maybe she’ll forget the whole thing ever happened.  Won’t forget, Spite cackles gleefully. Definitely. Won’t forget.

[blehblehbleh735]

Sleepytime

Rapper!chris x singer!reader Content: tooth rotting fluff, thats basically it Status: established relationship

Note: this is my first time writing in 2nd person so hope you like it🩵

Chris had been restless all day. You could tell from the way he kept bouncing his knee at dinner, his fingers tapping out a beat on the table while you tried to tell him about your studio session earlier. He wasn’t being rude—not intentionally. You knew his mind was elsewhere. It usually was when he got stuck in his creative process.

Now it was well past midnight, and you were curled up on the couch in his apartment, your legs draped over his lap as a late-night sitcom hummed quietly in the background. Chris’s arm rested loosely on your shin, his fingers drawing patterns on your skin while he stared off into the distance.

“You’re still thinking about that verse, aren’t you?” you asked softly, breaking the quiet.Chris blinked, his gaze snapping back to you. “Huh?”

“The one you couldn’t finish earlier. You’re stuck.”

He sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. “Yeah. It’s like... I can hear what I want it to sound like, but I can’t figure out the words. It’s just frustrating, ya know?”

You nodded. You’d been there before—those days when the music felt just out of reach,it was like trying to grab water with your hands.

“You’re overthinking it,” you said gently. “You always do it when you’re tired.”

Chris groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Probably. But y'know I can’t turn my brain off. It’s like every time I close my eyes, the beat’s just there, looping over and over again.”

You shifted, sitting up a little straighter. “Maybe you just need to relax,” you suggested. “Do something to take your mind off it.”

“Will you sing to me?” he asked, his tone bordering on desperate. You hesitated and raised an eyebrow, your lips twitching into a small smirk.

“Sure,” you said with a laugh. Chris stretched out on the couch, his head resting on the armrest, and you pulled a blanket over him. His legs were long enough that they hung off the other end, and you couldn’t help but smile at how he looked—a little less like the confident tough rapper the world saw and more like the teddy bear boy you knew.

It had to be something soft, something calming, something... meaningful.

You started humming first, letting the melody settle in the quiet space between you. Then, softly, you began to sing one of your favorite songs—a gentle one that had always felt like home to you. Your voice was low and steady, the lyrics flowing like a gentle stream.

Chris’s eyes fluttered closed almost immediately, his breathing slowing as he listened. The hand rested on his chest that was tapping ruthyms, suddenly stopped.

“Damn,” he murmured after a minute, his voice barely audible. “You sound good, ma.”

You smiled, pausing for a moment to reply. “It’s not like you haven’t heard me sing before.”

“Not like this,” he said, his voice muffled against the skin of your thighs. “It’s...different.”

Your fingers brushed through his hair, the soft curls springing back into place after each pass. As the song ended, you switched to another.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, his voice heavy with sleep.

“I wasn’t planning to,” you said quietly, the words like a promise.

You kept singing, your voice wrapping around the room like a warm blanket. And as you did, you noticed the way Chris’s body sank deeper into the couch, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Eventually, his breathing evened out completely, and you realized he’d fallen asleep.

For a moment, you just watched him. He looked so peaceful, his features softened in a way you didn’t get to see often. The weight of his public persona—the cool, confident rapper everyone adored—was gone, leaving behind just Chris.

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight,” you whispered.

There was something about moments like this—quiet, simple, and unglamorous—that made everything else in life feel a little easier.

Maybe tomorrow, Chris would wake up with the words he’d been looking for. But tonight, you’d given him what he really needed.

Rest.

Dividers by me, please tag if you use as inspiration🩵

[crackedpumpkin]

𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝟎𝟖 |

a/n: Happy New Year <3

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

Receiving the honorary ninja status isn’t as great as you imagined. It comes with its perks, like an ego boost, for one, but it definitely has its downfalls as well. For example, finding out you’re being targeted by a random villain via an ominous picture of you in their hideout.

Just what you wanted in life. To unknowingly piss off some criminal mastermind. You definitely didn’t have it on this year’s bingo list, which is rather unfortunate. Maybe next year.

After Cole had taken the picture from your hands and handed it to Lloyd, he pulled you aside, guiding your numb body out of the warehouse. The briny scent barely registers in your head, your feet moving on autopilot. His warm hand gripping your wrist is probably the only thing keeping you anchored to the real world right now.

Why me? The fuck did I do to them? Am I being pranked? Did I accidentally cut them in line at a bakery? Is this karma for the time I accidentally threw away Melody’s gift? Shouldn’t there be a Ninja Customer Service I can call to ask about this?

You’re still running these thoughts in circles when Cole abruptly stops. He turns, his hands firmly gripping your shoulders as if he’s holding you together through sheer willpower. He says your name again, voice soft but concerned.

When you don’t reply, he leans in, concerned eyes scanning your blank expression. He calls your name for the fifth time (possibly eighth, but you were too out of it to count). The fuzzy fog of panic clears just enough to reveal Cole’s frustrated face about two inches from your own. 

You flinch, your body instinctively taking a half-step back. “I-I’m fine,” you mumble, although the complete lack of conviction in your voice betrays you immediately. He lets out a slow breath, visibly trying to calm himself down. His hands remain on your shoulders, but his grip loosens, as if he’s trying not to overwhelm you any more than you already are. 

"You’re not fine,” he says quietly, his voice soft but firm. “You just found out that some psycho’s been watching you. It’s okay to not be fine.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard. For a moment, you see the cracks in his usual tough exterior, the worry beneath his brittle composure. He’s frustrated, not at you, but at the situation. He’s frustrated at the fact that he can’t fix this with just his strength alone.

His brow furrows, and he leans back a little, his hand running through his hair. "Look, I know this is a lot, but we're going to figure it out. Together. We’ll get to the bottom of it and make sure you’re safe."

You laugh, but it comes out soulless, like you’d drop to the ground any moment now. “Safe? Safe?? ” you reach up and grab his hands that still rest on your shoulders, bringing them down and letting go.

“They had a picture of me. I didn’t even know they were there.” The words feel foreign on your tongue, the sheer fact of how vulnerable you were in the moment rattles you more than you’d like to let on. “Why would they even target me?”

“They won’t. I’ll make sure that you’re safe.” 

“ We’ll make sure you’re safe.” Lloyd interrupts, walking up to the both of you. His words are firm and resolute, somehow calming your jittery nerves. Nya joins, placing a hand on your shoulder with a soft smile. 

“For now, let’s go back home. Cole?” He nods. His hand finds your wrist gently, the warmth of his touch grounding you as he leads you toward Rocky. 

The ride home is silent. Your arms rest limply around his waist, the steady rising and falling of his chest bringing you a sense of newfound calm. His hand somehow finds yours, placing it on top of them with an assuring squeeze.

Rocky glides down towards your apartment building, landing smoothly. The slight jolt stirs you from the coma-like daze you’re in, purely having focused on trying to match Cole’s breathing. 

He helps you get down, every touch and motion gentle as if you’d shatter in his hands at any moment. It’s a drastic contrast from your usual self, and on any other day you’d smack his hands away with a huff but now? Now, you probably need this more than ever. 

You wait for the lift together, his hand gripping yours in a loose hold. The lift dings, its doors opening for you to get in. “Hey.” Cole’s voice breaks the silence, and you pause to look at him. “It’ll be okay. I promise. We’ll figure this out.” Taking a deep breath, your usual retorts die on the tip of your tongue. 

“...Sure.”

— — — — — 

“Hey, what the fuck?” 

“Good morning to you too, sunshine.” Kai greets you with a sarcastic smile, sliding down his sunglasses as he nods. “I’m here to pick you up for school.”

“Who’s this?” You inhale sharply with a hiss, slowly turning around to see your dad leaning against the wall with his coffee mug in hand. “You a friend of my daughter’s?” 

In this moment, you’ve never regretted answering a doorbell more than you do right now.

“I’m the fire-” You slap your hands over his mouth, muffling the rest of his sentence. 

“Yes! He’s…a friend! Remember the ones I told you about before?? This is…Wang. Wang Fire.”

“Wang Fire?” Seconds pass, the ball of nerves tightening in your chest as he regards Kai sceptically. You retract your hands when you feel something wet against them, shooting a disgusted glare at Kai who shrugs innocently. “Your friends… exist?”

“I’d say so, yeah. My sister and I are her friends in class.” Kai takes the hint, lying flawlessly. “We’re meeting her later. Hey, since you lost that bet of ours, you’ll have to buy coffee for Sapphire and I.”

That sly bitch-

Glaring at him only further bolsters his confidence, shrugging once more while giving off the impression of the picture perfect friendship you both share. “Well, don’t keep your friend waiting.” Your dad gestures to your bag sitting next to the shoe rack. “I’ll see you later. And make sure you buy them coffee!”

“I will,” you grumble, shoving on your sneakers and all but bolting out the door. Kai bows quickly to your dad before following suite, the door shutting with a click. “Okay, so what the fuck??” 

“Good to see you’re back to normal.” Kai grins cheekily, the lift doors shutting before starting to move. 

“Yeah, well. Only so much I can do as an honorary ninja, right?” He has the decency to look sheepish. “So explain? Please?”

He hesitates briefly, a solemn look on his face. “Lloyd and the rest are going to help guard you. We’re taking shifts. I got the short straw, so I have to do it in the mornings.” His tiny grumble doesn’t escape your notice.

If you were being completely honest, you’re still somewhat rattled from last night. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you passed out from exhaustion. Getting out of bed however, was a different matter altogether. Upon opening your eyes, your entire plan was ‘fuck it, we ball’ . So far, it’s a success.

“Just an iced americano for me, thanks.” You tap your card against the card reader grouchily, ignoring Kai’s cheery thank you . “Oh please, you’re getting a sweet deal. If not for Cole, you’d probably be paying for our guard duty.” 

You chuckle softly at that, a hint of warmth spreading through you despite the tension that lingers in your chest. The barista hands you your drinks, Kai instantly taking a huge swig of his before wincing at the brain freeze that hits. 

He waves a dismissive hand at your snickering. The walk to your lecture is filled with endless chatter about his past, how he’d been found by Master Wu ( you’d shuddered at how creepy it was - imagine following a stranger because he promised you powers. Cult much? ) and how he’d first met Cole. 

Which then led to the question - “Are you his soulmate?”

Ah.

You choke. To be fair, it was only a matter of time before someone asked. However, you thought it’d been lowkey enough. Apparently not. 

“Would you believe me if I said no?” You lift your head to meet Kai’s gaze. 

He stares back with a flat expression, the corner of his lips twitching up into a hint of a disbelieving smile. A beat passes. “Yeah, I thought so,” you sigh, hanging your head. “It hasn’t been that long since we found out. It’s been like, what. A couple weeks? A month?”

Kai pauses mid-sip. “A month?” 

“I asked him not to tell anyone. To be fair though, he didn’t seem eager to do so in the first place. This is between you and me though, got it?” You warn, poking a finger to his chest with narrowed eyes.

He raises his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say. I’m just a guard after all. What am I good for?” 

“I dunno. You’ll get there someday, Wang .” You shrug, sharing a laugh at his fake name. 

The view changes from bustling streets and shops to the campus interior, notice boards in every hallway, and students rushing to their next class. “Well, this is where my shift ends.” 

“Wha-?”

A loud greeting draws your attention, finally noticing Nya in the sea of students. She wades through the crowd, greeting her brother with a smile. “Hey sis. Have fun in class. Oh, and if anyone asks, you’re Sapphire Fire, and I’m Wang Fire.”

She blinks. Looking from her brother to you, you can only shake your head helplessly. “I already got my student card.” 

“Change it again!” He calls out as he walks off, the students automatically moving out of his way as if he’s parting the Red Sea. 

She glances at you again, her confused expression almost drawing out a laugh. However, you manage to suppress it, masking it with a blank expression. “What Wang Fire wants, he gets,” you say nonchalantly, walking into the classroom.

You don’t have to turn to spot the baffled look in her eyes, making a beeline for the seats near the open windows. Nya sits down next to you, setting down her stuff and taking out a laptop. 

“Oh.” You blink. “You’re like, actually doing this.”

She scoffs playfully. “Of course I am! Granted, I’ve already gotten a degree, but who’s to say you can’t have more, right?”

She has a point. Shrugging it off, your smile only grows wider when Holly comes in through the door. She raises a hand in a wave, pausing briefly when she sees who’s next to you. Nya looks up from her laptop, glancing between you and Holly before offering her a friendly nod. 

Holly hesitates for a moment, making her way over when you gesture for her to join you. “Holly, this is…”

“Sapphire Fire.” Nya holds out her hand in a fist bump, and it takes all the willpower you have in you to not choke. “Nice to meet ‘ya! I was in a different course of study — Robotics, but I changed my mind and so, here I am.”

“Robotics?” Holly echoes, raising her brows in awe. “That must take a lot of brainpower.”

“Believe me,” Nya sighs, leaning back in her seat, “it doesn’t make up for the lack in the emotional intelligence sector.”

“Right,” you manage to say, nodding seriously. “Robotics.”

The professor arrives looking as if he’s just been through hell and back, with his crumpled shirt and stained coffee mug that he slams down onto the table. “Look,” he begins, his voice tinged with exhaustion, “I’ve got a bad headache and took painkillers, so this class will end when I do. Or when I pass out.” 

As the three of you step out of the classroom thirty minutes later, Nya stretches her arms dramatically, a grin tugging at her lips. "Well, that was... enlightening. I think I’ve learned more about painkillers and how to hide treats from your dog than whatever he was supposed to teach."

Holly chuckles, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "Honestly, I’m not sure I even remember the topic. Did he say something about our project? Or was that during the part where he stared into the void for five minutes straight?"

“Probably both,” you reply, your voice dry. “But hey, at least it wasn’t a total waste of time.” You nod toward Nya. “I got a new partner out of it.”

Nya smirks, nudging you lightly with her elbow. “Lucky you.”

Holly claps her hands together. “Speaking of the project, we should get started before the deadline creeps up on us. How about we go to a cafe? We can brainstorm over coffee and snacks. It’ll be fun!”

You blink at the suggestion, an unexpected tightness settling in your chest. For a moment, images of the previous night flash through your mind. The dark warehouse, the lingering sense of being watched… Your smile falters, and you shake your head slowly. "No cafes for now," you say, your tone light but your smile a little forced. "I’m... just not feeling it."

Nya glances at you, her eyes narrowing slightly as she picks up on the unspoken tension. She gives you the briefest of nods, a silent acknowledgment that speaks more than she could ever say out loud.

Holly shrugs casually. "No problem. The library it is, then. They’ve got some pretty nice study rooms if we can snag one.”

“Great idea,” Nya chimes in, her tone breezy. “Let’s head there now before it fills up.”

As you walk across campus, the two of them fall into easy conversation. Holly asks Nya more about her previous coursework and Nya playfully downplays her achievements. You’re grateful for the distraction, letting their chatter wash over you as you focus on the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath your shoes. Still, every so often, you find yourself glancing over your shoulder, your senses on edge.

I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I have Nya with me.

When you reach the library, Holly leads the way to a study room near the back. “This one’s perfect,” she declares, setting her bag down on the table. “Plenty of space, decent lighting, and no weird coffee smells.”

“Plus,” Nya adds, dropping into a chair, “it’s way quieter too. Fewer distractions.”

You offer a small smile, settling into a chair as well. “Yeah. This works.”

As the three of you start discussing the project, Nya subtly shifts the conversation to keep things light, steering clear of anything that might put you on edge. Holly occasionally chimes in with an idea, while you assign yourself the task of scribbling down all the ideas put forth no matter how nonsensical.

There’s no such thing as a ridiculous idea, only idiots who rule them out before even trying. 

The memory of your mother saying it to your younger self with a playful grin makes you smile. You can almost hear her voice, teasing and warm.

But the smile doesn’t last. The image of her in your mind changes, her expression clouded with worry, her voice strained the last time you saw her, three years ago. You remember the way she hugged you tightly, like she was trying to anchor you to the world, and the quiet crack in her voice as she whispered, “Stay safe, okay?”

Your hand pauses mid-scribble. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to focus on the present, on the steady rhythm of Holly’s voice and Nya’s occasional quips. You can’t go down that rabbit hole. Not now.

The door to the study room bursts open, startling all three of you. To you unadulterated horror, Abby strides in, her blonde curls bouncing as she gasps dramatically. “Oh my god, you’re here! ”

The last time you remember seeing her was when you’d left her hanging to answer all the questions people had rushed to ask in the food court. Every time you saw her after that, you’d hightailed it out of her sight to avoid being dragged for another round of socialisation.

You barely have time to react before she plops down in the empty chair next to you, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The change in atmosphere is immediate; her bubbly presence feels like a spotlight, and you can practically feel Nya and Holly stiffen at her sudden intrusion.

“I knew it!” Abby exclaims, leaning in so close you instinctively lean back. “You were hanging out with Cole yesterday, weren’t you? The Earth Ninja? You can’t even deny it, my friend saw you! What’s going on? Are you, like, his secret girlfriend or something?”

Your brain short-circuits for a moment as she barrels on, her questions coming rapid-fire.

“Or wait. Oh my god, is he your soulmate? That would be so epic! Like, imagine being soulmates with one of the ninja. You have to tell me everything. How did you even meet him? Was it super romantic? Do the others know?”

“Abby,” you manage to say, your voice a little sharper than intended. “This is a study session.”

“Oh, right!” she chirps, completely unfazed. She turns to Nya and Holly with a bright smile. “Hi! I’m Abby. I’m sure she’s told you all about me.”

Holly blinks, clearly taken aback, while Nya raises an eyebrow. “Can’t say she has,” Nya replies dryly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. The corner of her lips is raised, a hint of amusement in her eyes as she watches you flounder for a proper response.

Undeterred, Abby continues. “Well, now you’ve met me! Anyway, you have to spill. What’s it like hanging out with the ninja? Do they, like, train all day? And Cole, he seems like the brooding type, but I bet he’s a total softie, right? Or am I way off?”

You glance at Nya, who’s looking at Abby like she’s trying to decide whether to laugh or walk out. Holly shifts uncomfortably in her seat, clearly unsure how to handle the whirlwind of energy that has descended on your quiet study session.

“Abby,” you say again, this time more firmly. “We’re trying to get work done.”

“Oh, right, right,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “But seriously, we have to talk later. Like, over coffee or something. You can’t keep this ninja thing to yourself forever.”

You sigh, casting an apologetic glance at Nya and Holly. “Sure.” The word slips out before you can stop it, and Abby’s face lights up in triumph, making you immediately regret it. “Just... not right now. We’ve got work to do.”

“Fine, fine,” she says, standing and nudging your arm with a playful grin. “One quick thing, though. Do me a favor and let Kai know I think he’s, like, ridiculously hot, would you?”

Nya’s snort bursts out so loud and sudden it’s as if she’s set off a fire alarm. Heat creeps up your neck to the tips of your ears, and you stubbornly avoid meeting her eyes, instead fixing your gaze anywhere else. Forcing a nod, you mumble, “I’ll… pass on the message.”

Abby beams, clearly satisfied with your response. “Perfect! You’re the best. I’ll catch you later!” She waves dramatically as she saunters out of the room, leaving behind the faint scent of expensive perfume.

The door closes with a soft click , and you exhale, shoulders sagging as if someone just turned off a pressure valve. “Oh my god.”

Nya wastes no time. “So…” she drawls, leaning forward with a sly grin. “First Cole, now Kai? What exactly are you doing with your time, Miss ‘I’m Just a Regular Student’ ?”

You glare at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you don’t ?” Her grin widens. “Because according to Abby, you’ve been gallivanting around with the Earth Ninja, who, by the way, she thinks is your soulmate .” She emphasizes the word with a dramatic wiggle of her eyebrows, earning a groan from you.

Holly looks up from her notes, utterly perplexed. “Wait, what? Soulmate? I thought we were talking about the project?”

“Exactly! That’s what we’re talking about!” You jump on Holly’s confusion like a lifeline, desperate to change the subject.

But Nya isn’t letting you off the hook that easily. “Oh, sure, the project . Because that’s why your ears turned redder than Kai’s fire when Abby mentioned Cole.” She pokes your arm, snickering. “Or was it when she called Kai ‘super hot’ ?”

I’m. I’m going to kill myself.

You drop your head onto the table with a groan. “I am begging you to stop.”

“Fine, fine.” Nya’s voice is laced with mock pity. “I’ll stop… for now. But seriously, you and Cole? I mean, I wouldn’t have guessed, but hey, stranger things have happened.”

Your head snaps up, ready to protest, but the teasing twinkle in her eyes makes you stop short. 

“I hate you,” you mutter half-heartedly, which only makes her laugh harder.

The rest of the discussion continues without any more hindrances, though the occasional student that passes by looks in with interest. You try to ignore them to the best of your ability, but it feels as if you're being poked and prodded all over by needles like you’re an experimental subject.

“Are you busy after this?” Nya asks as you gather your things. Holly had left a short while ago to cook dinner for her family, bidding you both a rushed goodbye after she got the text. “If not, wanna join us for dinner? I think it’d be better than randomly having someone else guard you for a bit.”

Her words are lighthearted and joking, but it’s the feigned nonchalance that makes you sigh internally. Yes, you’re shaken more than you’d like to admit, but not so fragile as to need pity. However, a sudden thought makes you pause. 

“...Who’s paying?”

— — — — — 

“I’d like the A5 Wagyu please. With caviar. And some truffle fries. And a coke.” 

Jay watches on in fascination as you rattle off your order to the waiter who nods politely, a newfound respect in his gaze. “You’re a heathen,” he murmurs in awe.

Cole merely shakes his head. “Really? You had to do all that?”

Shooting him a glare, you cross your arms and take a sip of water. “Look, if I knew we were going to some fancy upscale restaurant, I would’ve at least had some time to prepare! Instead, you let me almost be turned away at the door.” Gesturing to his suit and tie, you point at your own ratty jeans and thin beige cardigan. 

Compared to him, you look like a troll from under a bridge. 

“You’re fine,” Cole dismisses with a wave of his hand. “Besides, I didn’t even know you were coming. If anything, blame Jay. He’s the one who went in without you.”

Your lips part, a retort ready, but you pause, shifting your gaze to the blue ninja. He offers you a sheepish smile that does absolutely nothing to disarm your glare. “You’re so right,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him.

Jay flinches dramatically, clutching Nya’s arm like she’s a human shield. To your satisfaction, she does nothing to defend him. Instead, she pointedly pries his hand off and slides her seat a little farther away, the subtle shift making him gape at her in betrayal.

The look on his face is almost enough to make you grin. Almost.

When Nya invited you out for dinner, you expected something low-key. Chen’s Noodle House, maybe, or a casual diner. You were not expecting the five-star hotel looming in front of you when she pulled up, handed her car keys to the valet, and stepped out as though this were her usual Tuesday night. It was not, in fact, a usual Tuesday night for you .

Jay had been waiting outside with his signature bright smile, waving enthusiastically before offering Nya his arm. They both strolled in ahead of you, leaving you momentarily frozen in your tracks. The building’s gleaming exterior, the perfectly dressed doorman, and the elegant guests filtering inside made you feel as out of place as a plastic cup at a royal banquet.

You’d ducked into the bathroom to freshen up, splashing cold water on your face in hopes of shaking off your discomfort. But when you finally made your way to the reception desk, you were promptly halted by a woman with a polite but icy smile.

“I’m sorry, miss, but we can’t admit you without a reservation,” she said, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

Stammering out Nya’s name hadn’t helped either. She and Jay were already inside, and the receptionist clearly wasn’t about to take your word for it. Frustrated and a little humiliated, you’d stepped aside, contemplating texting them when a familiar figure strode into the lobby.

Cole.

Dressed to the nines in a sleek tuxedo, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced by an air of quiet confidence, he barely had to glance at the receptionist before gesturing toward you. “She’s with me.”

The change in the woman’s expression was almost comical, her polite frostiness melting into something approaching genuine warmth as she hurriedly nodded.

Now, as you sit across from the guilty pair, you’re determined to make the most of this luxurious dinner. It doesn’t matter who’s footing the bill, as long as it isn’t you. They’ve seated you next to Cole in a private dining room on the upper floor of the restaurant. Walking up the grand staircase earlier had made you feel even more exposed, especially with the envious stares following your every move.

Thankfully, Cole had fallen into step beside you, his solid presence acting as a shield. His casual demeanor somehow grounded you, even as you caught whispers of admiration from the patrons below.

A few more seats remain empty, presumably for the others. Just as you take a sip of water, the door slides open. You glance over, expecting the rest of the ninja to arrive, only for a man in a wheelchair to roll into the room.

It takes a second for your brain to process the face you’ve only ever seen in photos that Holly’s shoved into your face a number of times.

You choke on your water.

Cole reacts first, leaning toward you with concern etched on his face. “Hey, you okay?” he asks, his hand hovering near your arm like he’s ready to help if needed. Despite his worried tone, the corners of his mouth twitch slightly, betraying a hint of amusement at the spectacle you’re making.

Jay, on the other hand, wastes no time being dramatic. “ooOOoo!” he exclaims, his voice a mix of teasing and exaggerated awe. “First time seeing a genius in person?”

“Jay!” Nya hisses, smacking his shoulder hard enough to make him flinch. “Don’t be rude.”

You cough into your napkin, trying to regain some semblance of composure as the heat in your face intensifies. “I’m fine,” you croak, your voice raspy.

Your gaze darts to the man in the wheelchair, who has now paused by the table, watching you with a small, bemused smile.

“Cyrus Borg,” he says, introducing himself with a polite nod. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Same,” you manage, still reeling from the surreal moment.

Before you can recover fully, Nya chimes in with a smile that’s far too innocent to be trusted. “She’s a new friend of ours. Actually,” she adds, tilting her head slightly, “she’s with Cole .”

Your head snaps toward her so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. “I’m sorry, what?”

Nya shrugs, all false nonchalance, though her grin betrays her.

Cyrus raises an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between Nya, Jay, and Cole. “I see,” he says finally, his tone entirely too neutral for your liking. “Well, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Cole groans softly, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Ignore them,” he whispers to you, leaning closer so only you can hear.

You nod, trying to match his seriousness, but the proximity catches you off guard. He’s close. Too close. Close enough that you catch the faint scent of cologne, subtle but warm, and for a brief, unbidden moment, you find yourself thinking that he cleans up surprisingly well.

“Thanks,” you mutter, forcing yourself to look away.

Jay leans forward, clearly relishing the chaos. “So, Cole, how’s it feel knowing you’re—”

“Don’t,” Cole warns, cutting him off with a sharp glare that only makes Jay grin wider.

Cyrus clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “I take it you’ve all ordered?”

You stifle a laugh as Cole sighs heavily. “You could say that.”

“So, I hear that you wanted to meet with me about something? Pixel didn’t give me many details. How can I help you?” 

You raise a hand before any of them speak, blinking as your gaze darts between them. “Sorry, but how do you guys know each other…?” 

“We saved him from getting devoured by a digital Overlord.” Jay answers simply, picking up a piece of bread and munching on it. 

“Oh.” Your hand slowly lowers. “Okay. Cool.”

Just your average ninja stuff I guess.

“Yes, that’s right.” Cyrus chuckles. “I’ve been helping them out ever since. I can never express just how grateful I am for their assistance and for saving my life.”

“Very cool.” Deciding to just accept it as is, you proceed to spread some of the fancy butter onto your own baguette slice. 

“Cyrus, there’s a new threat.” Cole says, his voice somber. It makes the man lean forward, his elbows on the table as he listens intently. “They stole the Scroll of Fate.” The mention of it makes everyone pause, the only sound echoing through the room being your oblivious munching. 

You glance around the table, realizing everyone else is either staring at Cole or frozen mid-motion. Except for Jay, who’s still nibbling on his bread, but even he looks mildly concerned.

“Wait, what?” Cyrus’s brows knit together as he leans closer. “The Scroll of Fate ? That’s—”

“Exactly why we called this meeting,” Cole interrupts, his tone firm. He leans back slightly, arms crossed over his chest. “The scroll is gone. We don’t know who took it, but we do know they’re not stopping at just one. It happened at the museum, when everyone else was evacuating.”

Cyrus straightens in his seat, the gears in his mind visibly turning. “Where’s Lloyd?” he asks. “Shouldn’t he be here for this?”

“He’s handling another matter,” Cole replies, his voice steady. “He asked me to brief you guys first. Right now, we need to focus on figuring out where the scroll went, and how to stop whoever’s behind this.”

Your gaze flickers between them, trying to keep up with the conversation. So far, you’re not doing very well.

Jay pipes up. “So… we’re assuming this isn’t just some random burglary? Like, someone actually knew what they were taking?”

“Exactly.” Cole nods grimly. “They knew where to find it, and they knew its importance. Which means they probably know about the others.”

This catches your attention, even as you try to stay inconspicuous. You set your bread down, feeling the need to ask. Your voice comes out quieter than intended. “Why is it so important?”

All eyes turn to you, making you instantly regret speaking up. But Cyrus answers in their stead with a measured and calm tone, like a teacher explaining something profound to a curious student.

“There are four scrolls in total,” he begins, folding his hands together. “The Scroll of Fate, which was stolen from the museum, and three others: the Scroll of Destiny, the Scroll of Dreams, and the Scroll of Desire. Together, they form a map — a guide to a treasure hidden long ago. A treasure so dangerous, it must never fall into the wrong hands.”

Your stomach drops slightly at the gravity in his tone. A treasure? Of course, there’s a treasure involved. Why wouldn’t there be?

“I’ve heard of them before,” Nya chimes in, cutting through the tension. She leans forward, eyes narrowed. “Master Wu talked about them once. He said they weren’t just some random artifacts. He called them ‘keys’ to something that could change the world. And if someone’s already got their hands on one…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but the weight of her words hangs heavily in the air. You shift uncomfortably in your seat. Even now, you’ve no idea why you’re a part of this conversation. If not for Cole whose gaze falls on you every now and then, you’d probably have bolted out of the room ages ago. 

Cole clears his throat, drawing the group’s attention back to him. “There’s more,” he says, glancing briefly in your direction before continuing. “When we tracked the thief to their hideout the other night, we found… something else. A photo.”

The word makes you freeze mid-motion. A photo?

Cole’s voice remains steady, but there’s a weight to his tone that sends a ripple of tension through the room. “It was a picture of—”

“Of me,” you interrupt softly. Every pair of eyes in the room shift toward you, and your stomach churns at the sudden scrutiny. The fork in your hand feels heavier, and your grip tightens reflexively as a wave of unease rolls over you. 

For a moment, you don’t dare look up, but the silence feels suffocating. From the corner of your eye, you see Cyrus frowning, his brows knitting together in a mix of confusion and concern. The others exchange quick glances, their unease palpable.

Out of the corner of your vision, Cole shifts in his seat, and a moment later, you feel the warmth of his hand sliding over yours under the table. His fingers curl gently around yours, steady and deliberate, offering a silent reassurance. 

The small gesture anchors you, grounding you in the chaos. You keep your gaze on the table, your knuckles whitening under his palm, but the tension in your chest loosens ever so slightly. 

Cole continues, his voice measured. “We don’t know why it was there or who took it, but it’s clear whoever is behind this isn’t just after the scrolls.” His words are for the group, but you can feel his thumb briefly brushing against your knuckles, a barely perceptible motion meant only for you.

His hand stays over yours, grounding your tense self in the thoughts that start to swirl in your mind again like a hurricane. His thumb brushes over your skin every once in a while, helping to relax you somewhat. 

Jay grumbles around a mouthful of bread. “Great. As if our lives weren’t already exciting enough.” 

Kai, who’d entered sometime during Cyrus’s explanation, shoots him a look, but Cyrus is too deep in thought to notice. “If they’re after all four scrolls,” Cyrus says slowly, “then we need to figure out where the other three are, and fast.”

“What do we know about the thief?” Nya asks, ever practical. “Did they leave anything behind? A clue, a trace, anything ?”

Cole shakes his head, his frustration evident. “Nothing. It was a clean job. Whoever they are, they’re good.” His grip tightens ever-so-slightly, and the hint of frustration in his gaze elicits an odd flutter in your chest.

Nya’s voice pulls you back into the conversation. “We’ll need to divide up. If they’ve already got one, they won’t stop until they find the others. We can’t afford to waste time.”

Jay raises a hand, as if he’s in a classroom. “Uh, quick question. What happens if they do get all four?”

Cyrus’s expression darkens. “Then whoever holds the scrolls will hold unimaginable power. Enough to reshape reality itself.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Cole’s voice cuts through the heavy air. “Which is why we can’t let that happen. Not on our watch.”

Everyone nods in agreement, their determination palpable. You, on the other hand, pick up your baguette slice again and take another bite, hoping the carbs will somehow make all of this easier to digest.

Thankfully, a knock on the door interrupts the tension, signalling the arrival of your food. The sight of the waiters carrying plates and bowls immediately lifts your spirits. You sit up straighter, the truffle fries you ordered placed neatly between you and Cole. He lets go of your hand, sending you a small smile. 

You return it.

“Good choice,” Kai remarks, gesturing to your plate of pre-cut steak with his fork while chewing on a mouthful of spaghetti. “As long as it’s not on our card, that is.”

You smirk, shrugging innocently. “In my defense, I thought Jay was paying.”

The ninja in question looks up sharply with narrowed eyes, shaking his head disapprovingly before going back to mauling his lobster.

Cyrus chuckles, his gaze warm as he waves off the comment. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ve grown quite used to Kai’s appetite. Feel free to order anything else. After all, I’m sure you’ll be around for quite a while.”

At that, Cole, who’s mid-sip of his drink, suddenly chokes. The spluttering noise draws everyone’s attention, and you instinctively glance at him, alarmed. His fist thuds lightly against his chest as he recovers, his expression caught between embarrassment and discomfort.

“Careful, Cole,” Nya quips, her eyes brimming with mischief as she glances between you both. “We wouldn’t want to lose you over a glass of water.”

You notice the faint pink tint creeping up his neck and the tips of his ears, and before you can stop yourself, the thought flashes through your mind: Cute.

The realization jolts you. Nope. No way. Absolutely not. You hurriedly shove a piece of steak into your mouth, focusing intently on chewing as if your life depends on it. The warmth crawling up your neck is most certainly from the food. Definitely.

As the others dive into casual conversation about strategies and possible leads, a nagging thought begins to form in your mind. You swallow your mouthful, reaching hesitantly for a fry before voicing it.

“But…” you start, your tone hesitant, yet cutting through the chatter. All eyes turn to you, making your palms slightly clammy. “What do the scrolls have to do with me?”

The question hangs in the air, and you immediately feel the burden of everyone’s attention. Cyrus exchanges a glance with Cole, his brow furrowing in thought. The silence stretches just long enough to make you regret asking, but Cyrus finally speaks, his tone measured.

“That,” he says slowly, “is precisely what we need to figure out.”

— — — — — 

The valet holds out the keys to Cole. He accepts them with a quick thank you, sliding into the driver’s seat of the car that’s been brought around. You blink, momentarily confused.

“Since when do you drive?” you ask, tentatively sliding into the passenger seat and shutting the door behind you.

He waits for you to pull on your seatbelt before smoothly maneuvering the car out of the pickup area. “I got my license pretty early,” he says with a glance in your direction, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “It was kinda necessary, y’know. Saving the world isn’t exactly convenient without a dragon to ride on.”

You mull this over for a second, nodding as you reply, “Fair.”

Your gaze flickers to the fuzzy dice hanging from his rearview mirror, the cluster of coupon cards, parking tickets, and drink stamp cards stuffed into the cup holder. It’s a little messy, but somehow it feels fitting. Struggling to suppress a grin, you lean back in your seat, turning your attention to the buildings flashing past the window.

All night, Cole’s been a perfect gentleman. It’s a side of him you never thought you’d see, let alone experience firsthand. When dinner had wrapped up, he’d offered to drive you home before you could even figure out a plan. The memory of Jay crooning at the table, much to Nya’s exasperation, flashes in your mind, and you can’t help the small smirk that escapes you.

Kai had claimed he needed his beauty sleep and left early. Cyrus offered to give you a ride, but Cole intervened before you could accept. At first, you’d assumed he’d summon Rocky, but instead, he’d surprised you by walking over to the valet stand.

The air conditioning is a little too cold for your liking. With a quick flick of your wrist, you adjust the dial, then reach for the radio. As soon as you press the button, the Bluetooth system lights up, a calm voice announcing, “Device connected. Playing most recent playlist.”

The first few notes of a song fill the car, and you freeze. It’s one of your favorite songs, the kind that makes you want to hum along or drum your fingers against your leg.

You glance at Cole, who remains focused on the road, completely unfazed. “Your playlist?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Why?” He glances at you briefly before returning his gaze to the empty street ahead.

“No reason,” you murmur, a little thrown off. The songs continue to play, one after the other, all suspiciously aligned with your taste.

A comfortable silence settles over the two of you, broken only by the low hum of the music. The streets are quieter than usual, the bustle of the day long gone.

“You know,” you say after a while, “I haven’t really had a chance to explore Ninjago City yet. I only moved here right before university started, so it’s been classes, unpacking, and not much else.”

Cole hums in thought, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel. “That’s a shame. The city’s pretty great once you know your way around.”

You nod, expecting the conversation to end there. But instead, he glances at you again, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

“How about a little detour?” he says, steering the car down a different street without waiting for your answer.

“What kind of detour?” you ask, shooting him a suspicious look.

“The kind that doesn’t end with you sitting in your apartment wondering what you’re missing,” he replies, his tone teasing.

You roll your eyes but don’t protest, curiosity bubbling in your chest. As the car takes a turn onto a quieter road, the city lights cast a warm glow over the dashboard.

Cole takes you through the quieter streets of the city, the hum of the car blending seamlessly with the music playing softly in the background. As he drives, the buildings around you begin to shift. Towering skyscrapers give way to cozier streets lined with shops and cafés, their warm lights still glowing faintly despite the late hour.

“That,” he says, pointing toward a modest little bakery with a bright yellow awning, “is where Jay convinced me to try his favorite pastries. I think he was trying to cheer me up after a rough mission. Ended up eating half a dozen éclairs because he dared me to. Regretted it for a week.”

You snort. “Why am I not surprised? And did it work?”

“Cheering me up? Yeah, somehow it did.” He grins, the memory clearly amusing him. “Although I’m pretty sure he just wanted to see if I’d actually do it.”

The car turns onto another street, this one quieter, almost deserted. He nods toward a dimly lit dojo. “That’s where Sensei took us when we were still figuring out how to work as a team. Spent hours there sparring, tripping over ourselves, and arguing about who was doing what wrong.”

You arch an eyebrow. “And now you’re all perfectly in sync?”

Cole chuckles, the sound low. “Let’s just say we’ve come a long way since then.”

As you pass a park, he slows the car down and gestures toward a small playground tucked into the corner. “There,” he says, his voice softening. “That’s where we helped a kid find his mom. He got stuck at the top of the jungle gym and was too scared to come down. Lloyd climbed up to get him while I held the ladder steady. The kid hugged us both like we’d just saved the world.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “You kinda did, in his eyes.”

“Maybe.” He shrugs, but there’s a faint warmth in his expression.

The car glides into a more bustling area, neon lights casting colorful reflections onto the windshield. He points out a karaoke bar, shaking his head with a small laugh. “Never let Kai drag you in there. Trust me.”

“Why? Is he a bad singer?” you ask, intrigued.

“More like he’s too good. He gets way too into it. Once, he jumped off the stage mid-song to serenade someone in the audience.”

You burst into laughter, the mental image too vivid to ignore. “Let me guess. Was it a complete stranger?”

“Yup. She loved it, though,” he says, chuckling.

As the car continues its journey, Cole shares more little anecdotes. Each one paints a picture of his life before you’d met him. 

Each one makes you smile. 

Eventually, the car takes a turn onto a quieter road, and Cole slows down, pulling into a lookout point overlooking the city. The skyline stretches out before you, a sea of twinkling lights against the dark night sky.

“I used to come here a lot,” he admits, his tone quieter now. “Back when I was still trying to figure out my place on the team. It helped me clear my head.”

You glance over at him, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the dashboard lights. “And now?”

“Now I don’t come here as often,” he says, his gaze fixed on the view. “But every now and then, it’s nice to remember.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching comfortably between you. The distant hum of the city below mingles with the faint music still playing in the background, and you find yourself leaning back, taking it all in.

“This city’s pretty amazing,” you say softly.

Cole turns to look at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It is. You just need the right person to show you around.”

“Right,” there’s a cheekiness in your grin, holding up your wallet. “How much do I owe you for the tour guide fee then? I’ve got five dollars to my name and a whole lot of boba stamp cards.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I’m good, thanks. Maybe next time you can order in for game night.”

“Only if you beat me. Don’t you remember? Loser pays for the meal.” You fake a sympathetic smile, patting his shoulder. “Maybe next time you’ll learn that Kai and I? We’re unstoppable.”

“Tell that to Jay,” he snorts, leaning back against the driver’s seat as the city glimmers before you. The easy banter fades into a calm quiet, the serenity of the night settling in. You glance out the window, but the reflection of your face in the glass makes your stomach twist.

You press your palms against your thighs, the cool fabric of your jeans grounding you. “Cole?”

He turns to you, his expression shifting into one of quiet curiosity. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, your fingers fidgeting with the strap of your bag. “I’ve been meaning to say this… but I don’t think I’ve had the guts.”

His brow furrows slightly. “What’s on your mind?”

You exhale, long and slow, feeling the weight of your thoughts pressing down. “That day when you found the photo of me… I haven’t felt the same since. It’s like I’m constantly looking over my shoulder now, waiting for something to go wrong.”

Cole’s face softens, his eyes searching yours. “Hey—”

“I’m grateful, okay?” you interrupt, your words tumbling out faster than you intended. “For you, for the team, for everything you’ve done to protect me. But there are moments—” You falter, your voice cracking slightly. “There are moments where I feel so small. Like no matter what I do, I’m being watched. Judged. Scrutinized. I don’t even feel like myself anymore.”

Cole reaches out, his hand brushing yours lightly. “I get it,” he says quietly. “It’s a lot to handle. But you’re stronger than you think. You’re going to get through this.”

Something snaps inside you, and the words spill out before you can stop them. “But I’m not like you, Cole!” You pull your hand away, your voice louder than you intended. “I’m not a ninja. I’m not brave or strong or whatever you guys are. I just want a normal life — to go to school, to hang out with friends, to not worry about villains or warehouses or photos of me showing up out of nowhere!”

The hurt in his eyes is immediate, like you’ve struck him physically. His jaw tightens, and he glances away, his fingers curling around the steering wheel. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this,” he says softly, his voice barely audible.

Your chest tightens with regret as the words you’d thrown at him echo in your mind. Cole doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the skyline. When he finally speaks, his voice is measured, almost too calm. “You should get some rest. It’s been a long night.”

The faint smile he gives you doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and your stomach twists with guilt. “Cole—” you start, but he’s already shifting the car into gear, avoiding your gaze.

“It’s fine,” he says lightly, the edge of something unspoken in his tone. “Let’s get you home.”

The drive back is quieter than before, the comfortable silence replaced by something heavier. You sneak glances at him, but his expression is unreadable, his focus firmly on the road ahead.

When he pulls up in front of your apartment complex, he parks and steps out, walking around to open your door.

You step out, barely inches apart from his chest. His eyes are tinged with guilt and regret, and your heart sinks as you realize just how much your words must’ve affected him. He’s been supportive throughout everything, from assigning Nya and the rest to guard you, to tirelessly searching for the thief on top of his usual duties. And now, here you are, with the weight of your sharp words hanging in the air between you.

He takes a step back, waiting for you to enter the lift before he can leave. You take a few steps forward, but your feet feel like they’re glued to the pavement, each step away from him like a mistake you can’t undo. Your thoughts tumble over each other as you try to find the right thing to say, but nothing comes.

You slow to a halt, barely inches away from the lift, and glance back at him. He’s still standing by his car, watching you with that same patient, unreadable look on his face. No . You shake your head, your hands clenching into fists, frustration flooding your chest. I can’t just leave. Not like this.

Before you can second-guess yourself, your body moves faster than your brain can catch up. You turn and march back to him, a full-blown wave of mortification crashing over you as you approach. Your heart races as you find yourself wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing your face into his shoulder in one swift motion.

A solid few seconds pass.

Why isn’t he hugging me back?

Panic sets in. You don’t dare to pull away. The heat in your ears burns like wildfire, and every muscle in your body screams for you to turn and run, anything to escape the embarrassment flooding through you. But you don’t. You stay. You can’t move.

Are you shitting me? Is he seriously not going to do anything?

The seconds feel like an eternity, but just as you start to feel like you might die of mortification, his arms finally wrap around you, pulling you into a gentle, reassuring hug.

Then, you realize something as his chest begins to move.

Is he… laughing?

The realisation hits you like a bolt of lightning, and before you can even think, you shove him off you in one swift move. Your cheeks flush pink, your eyes narrowing into a glare as he chuckles, clearly trying (and failing) to suppress his amusement.

“What the hell is so funny?” you snap, frustration rising in your chest. 

I’m going to stab this bitch and bury the body.

His smile is soft but undeniably teasing as he rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, it’s just… I didn’t expect that.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Well, I didn’t expect to—” You stop yourself, sighing as the words fall flat. It wasn’t exactly how you intended things to go, but here you are, standing in front of him like an embarrassed mess.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, your voice quieter now, but the sincerity is there. “For snapping at you earlier… and for… you know, that.” You gesture between the two of you, feeling even more self-conscious now that the moment’s passed.

Cole’s smile softens, and he places a hand gently on your head, a comforting gesture that feels like a wave of calm washing over you. “It’s alright. Really. You’ve been through a lot, and I get it. I do.”

You scoff again, but this time it’s not out of anger. “I’m just not used to… all of this. I just want to live a normal life, you know? Go to school, hang out with friends, and not feel like I’m constantly under a microscope.”

Cole’s expression shifts, the teasing fading into something gentler, something understanding. “I get that. And you will. But we’re here for you, okay? We’re all in this together.”

You stare at him for a moment, the warmth of his words sinking in. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just a quiet assurance that makes your chest tighten.

“Thanks,” you say softly, still feeling a bit vulnerable. “For everything you’ve done for me. I know I don’t say it enough, but I really appreciate it.”

Cole nods, his smile returning, this time warmer, more genuine as your name falls from his lips. “Anytime.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — 

Taglist: @candyquokka @mossy-mika @em-100-blog @cursedreader @alicesmile1 @alexa24 @raegreenie4 @burdeningbitch @viennasthings @cadencannot @ml3czqo @nanasemo @certified-cole-simp @beescomet @theblindhag @mitbin24 @sweetlittlebumblebree @brooklyniswriting @cantbecreative @something-else3 @iinlovewithfictionalppl @itz-moonlight @jebesovovise @ryeheep @letthelightin2112 @classically-bored @clearlawyereaglewobbler @anajellyc @the-midnight-duck @fru1ty-bage3ls

[arixella]

Fractured Hearts

╰┈➤ pairing: Eustass Kid x female! reader

a/n: none

summary: Kid and the reader have a heated argument about their strained relationship, but their daughter interrupts, prompting them to reflect on their actions and come together for the sake of their family.

wc: 1.2k

contains: super angst to fluff

It had started like any other evening. Kid had come back from a long day of business, and you were tending to the house, trying to juggle everything as usual—cooking dinner, making sure your daughter was entertained, and managing the chaos of life. You were tired, frustrated, but you loved your family, and that love kept everything going, even on the rough days.

But tonight was different. Tonight, the weight of everything that had been building for weeks finally erupted.

"Why do you always do this?" Kid's voice was raised, sharp and cutting as he threw his coat aside. His eyes were blazing with frustration, his jaw clenched tightly. "You act like I don’t have enough on my plate! You think everything’s supposed to be perfect when I’m not around? You don’t get it, (Y/N). I can’t just drop everything for some perfect little world where everything goes the way you want it to!"

You froze, feeling the sting of his words. The air in the room thickened. "You think I get to live in some perfect little world, Kid? Maybe I don’t want to have to manage everything alone! Maybe I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one trying to hold this family together!"

Kid’s face twisted in anger, but behind the rage, you saw something darker—a hurt, a frustration he wasn’t expressing. "I’m not perfect. I never said I was, but I’m doing the best I can!"

"You think this is ‘doing your best’?" Your voice cracked with emotion, the rawness of your feelings coming out all at once. "You’re barely here! I’m doing everything I can to make this work, and it feels like you don’t even care anymore. What’s the point of being together if we can’t even—"

The words were pouring out of you now, as if they had been waiting to be unleashed for so long. You hated fighting like this, hated feeling like you were losing the man you loved, but this—this constant feeling of being abandoned was eating away at you.

"I’m right here!" Kid roared, his fists tightening in frustration. His face was flushed with anger now, the weight of everything weighing down on both of you. "But if you can’t see that—if you can’t understand that I’m just trying to make sure we have a future—"

"And what about now, Kid?" you shouted, your chest tight with tears. "What about our daughter? What about us? We’re falling apart, and you’re too damn stubborn to see it."

There was a heavy silence. You stood there, panting with anger, tears brimming in your eyes. Kid’s gaze softened just slightly, but the tension was still thick between you two. For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, as if the universe had chosen that very moment to break the silence, you heard a small, quiet voice.

"Mama? Papa?"

Your daughter, standing in the doorway, looked up at both of you, her innocent eyes wide with confusion. The weight of what you were doing hit you both like a brick.

She had been standing there, probably listening to the whole argument.

You both froze, staring at her for what felt like an eternity. Your daughter, a beautiful mix of both of you, stood there with her little hands clasped in front of her, a deep frown on her face as if she didn’t understand why the two people she loved most in the world were fighting.

Your heart shattered as her gaze shifted between you and Kid, her tiny brow furrowed. "Why are you both yelling?"

It was like everything suddenly stopped. The anger that had been simmering between you and Kid evaporated, leaving behind a hollow, aching emptiness.

"Sweetheart…" you whispered, your voice trembling as you quickly wiped away a tear. You rushed over to her, dropping down to her level and pulling her into a tight embrace. "I’m sorry, baby. We didn’t mean to scare you."

Kid stood there, frozen, his own anger replaced by guilt and remorse. He wanted to move, to say something, but his words were stuck. He hadn’t realized what his anger had been doing to her. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

"Papa?" she asked softly, glancing up at him, her little face full of concern. "Are you mad at Mama?"

Kid's breath caught in his throat, and without a word, he kneeled beside you both, gently placing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. His voice was hoarse, broken. "No, sweetie… I’m not mad. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice."

You both sat there for a moment, the weight of the argument still lingering in the air, but softened by the quiet innocence of your daughter’s presence. Slowly, you stood, lifting her into your arms as Kid watched, feeling like a failure.

After a long silence, you looked at Kid. The rage had melted away, replaced by something more vulnerable, something you hadn’t seen in him for a while.

"You can’t keep doing this," you said softly, but firmly. "We can’t keep doing this. She can’t keep seeing us like this."

Kid looked at you, his eyes filled with regret. He didn’t know how to fix what was broken, but he knew he had to. You both had to.

"I know," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "I just… I don’t know what to do anymore."

"Then figure it out, Kid," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "For her. For us."

Kid nodded, swallowing hard as he stood and approached you, his hand brushing against your cheek, the touch almost tentative. "I’m sorry," he whispered. "I never wanted to hurt you… or her."

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. "I know you didn’t. But we need to be a team. We’re a family, Kid. We’re her family. You can’t keep pushing us away. Not anymore."

He nodded, the weight of your words hitting him harder than he’d ever expected. His daughter, his little girl, had been the wake-up call he needed. He had been so focused on everything else, he had neglected the most important thing in his life: his family.

"Okay," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "Okay, I’ll do better. I promise."

You kissed your daughter’s forehead gently, then turned to Kid, offering a small, tired smile. "We’re in this together. We’ll work through it. But we need to start thinking about her—about us."

Kid’s face softened, and he reached for your hand, holding it tightly. "Yeah… Yeah, you’re right."

Your daughter, oblivious to the complexity of adult emotions, smiled up at both of you. "Can we all play together now?"

You smiled through your tears and nodded. "Of course, sweetheart. We’re a family, and we’ll always be a family."

♡♡♡

[fanwarriorfictions]

Help Me, Help You - Part Eleven

Fenrys x F!Reader

Summary- Fenrys and Y/n continue their journey to the Tavan mountains

Warnings- a little suggestive, mentions of sexual trauma

Series Masterlist

Part Eleven

   She woke just before the dawn cradled to Fenrys’s chest. They’d fallen asleep in their respective bedrolls a few feet apart, but she’d apparently sought him out in her sleep, through the dirt and rocks beneath them and he’d taken her into his arms, letting her sprawl on top of him, her bedroll empty behind her.

   She shifts, trying to maneuver her way off the male, halting when his arms tighten around her, holding her closer, grumbling in his sleep. Y/n smiles, lifting her head to watch his face as she tries and fails to slip out of his hold.

   Despite the slight furrow of his brow, caused by her fidgeting, he looks peaceful. And it’s a look she cherishes, one she hopes to see on his face during the day sometime, instead of the mask of humor, instead of the pain and sadness beneath it. Perhaps someday she would.

   “Stop moving,” he orders, the words barely coherent, “go back to sleep, kitten.”

   She does the opposite, wiggling in his hold, “Let me get up, you can go back to sleep.”

   Fenrys shakes his head, “Stop moving.”

   The arms around her squeeze their warning, and she laughs, “Since when are you such a grouch?”

   He’s usually up before the sun even thinks to wake in the morning. And he always had a smile on his lips for her, a chipper good morning on his tongue. It had annoyed her endlessly the first days of their journey across the ocean, but a long the way she’d grown to enjoy it, look forward to it, and after everything that happened in Antica, she missed it. 

   “Since I woke up with a female pressed very closely to me,” Fenrys says, his eyes finally opening to look at her, “And there are things I want to do but can’t because there are two royals sleeping across the fire who will be very angry at me for waking them up,” 

   His eyes are impossibly dark, like they’d been in that mirror before they’d left yesterday, a look that says he wants to devour her whole. And that’s when she feels it, there against the inside of her thigh that is thrown over his hips. She shifts, trying to pull away, the motion only brings a rough low growl from his mouth, one that has her fae instincts on high alert, her body couldn’t tell if he was a predator trying to kill her or a male trying to do very different things to her. The rational side of her brain couldn’t decide either.

   “Stop moving, kitten,” Fenrys growls again.

   Y/n stills completely, struck by the dominance in his tone, the fae in her blood submitting to it. A part of her wants to fight the order, to hiss that she could do whatever she wanted, to push the limits of what he would allow her to get away with, to see what he’d do past those limits. Another part of her, the sensible part, tells her that was a very bad idea.

   “Just let me get up,” she whispers, “I’ll go back to my bed.”

   Fenrys shakes his head, closing his eyes again, “Not happening, kitten.”

   There’s a tone of finality and Y/n sighs, letting him win this one time. She lets her head fall back to his chest, and Fenrys lets out a content noise. He holds her close, his hand tracing small shapes into the base of her spine. It feels heavenly on her sore muscles from the long flight, drawing a soft purr from her chest, one she doesn’t even try to stop. 

   He continues to work the tension from her until she’s near boneless in his arms and sleep tugs at her. She tries to fight it, to keep existing in the moment, but Fenrys won’t allow it. 

   “Go back to sleep, kitten,” he says against her hair, “I’ve got you.”

   “I know,” she whispers as sleep captures her once again.

   Fenrys holds tightly to the Ruk beneath him, not trusting that Kadara won’t do those flips and spins she’d done the day before. Sartaq had promised there would be no more flight maneuvers unless necessary, didn’t mean he believed the prince.

   “You looked comfy this morning,” Sartaq says over his shoulder.

   He’d fallen back asleep shortly after Y/n had, and when Nesryn had gently nudged them both awake, Y/n had thrown herself off of Fenrys like she’d been burned, her face flushed so deep that Fenrys couldn’t help but tease her till she was ready to claw his smirk right off his lips. Fenrys didn’t have it in him to be embarrassed, not when she’d felt so right in his arms.

   “I was,” Fenrys shrugs, “What about it?”

   “I’m happy for you, friend.” Sartaq grins over his shoulder, “Do let me know if my wife and I should make separate camp tonight.”

   Fenrys couldn’t find the denials he’d had since they arrived in the southern continent, when his friends had pestered him about Y/n. He’d been unrelenting that there was nothing between them, that he still couldn’t look at a female that way, couldn’t touch one that way, not yet, not after Maeve. His friends had understood, without the explanation, but it seemed the prince saw right through him, saw those walls crumbling to dust around Y/n, saw the broken parts of him finally beginning to heal after all this time. 

   Fenrys looks at the ruk flying beside them, Nesryn and Y/n talking and laughing, the sounds swallowed by the wind around them and he wishes he could hear her, needing the sound of her laugh like he needed air in his lungs. 

   He had a long way to go, a long way to fight, to heal after everything Maeve had done to him, had forced him to do, but he wanted to fight for Y/n. He’d been close to stepping across that line this morning, with her purring on his chest, her body draped over his own, gods knew he wanted to, desperately, and perhaps if the royals hadn’t of been there, he might have. Or perhaps he still wasn’t ready yet, he truly didn’t know, and part of him was too scared to find out.

   “No need,” Fenrys says, forcing a cocky grin onto his lips, “I’m not sure you could get far enough away.”

   Sartaq laughs, and if he notes the mask Fenrys had slipped back on, he doesn’t mention it. 

   The terrain below them had shifted from the grassy plains and lush forests into stone and ice the farther they flew. Y/n reveled in the cold air on her face, the blistering hot of Antica turning into the snow and ice she’d grown up in. They made camp for one more night, and by the next day, she would see her brother, for the first time in twenty years. 

   “Nervous?” Fenrys asks beside her, preparing their small dinner of meats and cheese from his pack, “You’re fidgeting.”

   Nesryn and Sartaq had flown off to hunt for their mount’s dinners, leaving her and Fenrys to light the fire with the sparse foliage around them and settle in for the night.She watches his hands as he carves slice after slice from the cheese, enraptured by the precise skill of them.

“No I’m not.”

   He gives her an unimpressed look, “Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s bad to lie?”

   “No actually, Vaughan taught me how to lie.” She gives him a pointed look, “Incase any of you came knocking at my door.”

   “Really?” 

   Fenrys raises a brow at her, curiosity lighting in his eyes. He holds out a slice of cheese and nods for her to continue.

   Y/n takes the offering, “He thought one of you would eventually follow him, would take me back to Maeve if you knew who I was, what I was.”

   There’s a lingering feeling of terror in her, one she hadn’t been able to completely quell even after the queen’s death, nearly a year ago now. Vaughan had told her horror stories of the cadre since she was a child. She used to think Lorcan would appear in the darkness of the woods outside her village and wrap those shadows of death around her throat so she couldn’t scream. 

   “I wouldn’t have taken you,” he says, a dark look crossing over his face.

   “You wouldn’t have had the choice,” Y/n says honestly, not to wound him, but the flinch tells her she did it anyway. “That’s what Vaughan always told me, that if any of you found me, you wouldn’t have the choice to spare me if she used that oath on you, even if you’d wanted to.”

   “I wouldn’t,” he says again like he was trying to convince himself, dropping the knife to the dirt between them to take her hand in his, “I’d have fought it, I wouldn’t have taken you to her.”

   Her heart shatters in her chest as he squeezes her hand. He’d have died if he fought that oath, like he’d nearly died protecting Aelin. Y/n wouldn’t have been strong enough to will that life back into him like she had, and there was no healing capable of mending a broken blood oath.    “I was never as scared of you and Connell as I was of Lorcan and Rowan, they were the monsters that lived in my closet and under my bed as a child,” she chuckles, trying to lighten the mood, “I’d hoped Gavriel would be the one to find me if it ever came down to it. Vaughan always looked up to him, said he was the most honorable of all of you, I’d even had this stupid infatuation with the lion when I was in my twenties.”

   That admission eases some of the tension from his shoulders, and a mischievous look grows in his eyes. She regrets her words instantly. 

   “Interesting,” he says, shifting closer to her, their dinner all but forgotten. “What about the lion caught your eye?”

   Y/n feels her face heat, she would never hear the end of this, but if it took away some of the pain in his eyes, it was worth it.

   “I don’t know,” she avoids his gaze, “I thought that if he found me, he’d be a gentleman even while he marched me to my death. Maybe he’d wouldn’t let me die without having my first kiss.”

   Fenrys goes completely still for a moment, as if he was drawing conclusions in his mind that she wanted him to stay far far away from. He didn’t.

   “When did you have your first kiss?”

   Her blood heats in her veins, remembering the kisses they’d shared. The feeling of him below her only yesterday, his hands on her, his lips on her own.

   “If you’re asking if it was with you,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him, forcing back the flush of her cheeks, “No it was not.”

   It had been a long time ago, with a male in her village, a blacksmith who’d since moved away. She’d been drunk and frustrated, not finding any satisfaction in her own hands, in her own mind, and he was the closest she’d ever get to what she really wanted. 

   There’s a very strange look that flits across Fenrys’s face that she has no time to decipher before it’s gone and replaced by a smirk.

   “Was Gavriel the only one you fantasized about?”

   The way he says the word, low and dangerous, has her flush coming back with a vengeance, and she does not want to admit that no, Gavriel wasn’t the only one. It wasn’t her fault that she had little interaction with the world, that her brother’s war stories had stopped scaring her and begun to intrigue her by the time she’d reached her thirties, when Fenrys and Connall had sworn their blood oaths to the queen.

   Her brother had described the twins as reckless and stupidly brave, had described Fenrys as the type of male she should and would stay away from, and she’d been cooped up for so long, so used to the monotony, the mind numbing boredom of her little village, she craved recklessness, had sought out the blacksmith because she couldn’t go to Doranelle and find the wolf.

   “Please tell me it wasn’t Lorcan,” Fenrys says after her long silence.

   “Gods no,” she snaps, and she knows instantly that it’s a mistake.

   That only left two, and given that they’re twins, it didn’t really matter which one, it wasn’t like she knew them well enough to separate them in her mind, in her fantasies. Fenrys knew that, she could tell by the insufferable grin on his lips.

   “Awe, kitten,” he coos, “Did you have a crush on me?”

   She hisses, pulling her hand from his, “No.”

   That was more of an admission of guilt than if she’d said yes. Fenrys’s whole face lights up, and it’s so real, that joy, that she doesn’t mind the incessant teasing that she knows will follow. 

   “Did you imagine my hands between-“

   Never mind, she absolutely does mind.

Tag list -

@emma-andrea1 @mgchaser @anxious-study @lees-chaotic-brain @girl-math-aint-mathing @mali22 @nikt-wazny-y @theworthlessqueen @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @lethargicluv @hannzoaks @batboygirlie @foxysouls @kiarathace @jesskidding3 @raginghellfire 

[mywitchyblog]

GWORLLLLLLLLL, YOU ARE SO RIGHT. Let me just take a moment to acknowledge your bravery for tackling this on TikTok—like, the gods-forsaken platform that’s practically the Bermuda Triangle of nuanced discussions. The fact that you not only addressed this but did so with clarity and composure? Iconic. 👏✨

Now, let me expand on your already-perfect post (which was a chef’s kiss dismantling of the nonsense).

Like, can we just pause to marvel at the way you single-handedly annihilated the “aging out” myth here? 💥

Now let’s mix in that TikTok wisdom you dropped: "You can shift to where you are still a senior, time is not linear so don’t fret, you can’t run out of it." You’re absolutely right. Shifting isn’t bound by linear time, so the entire idea of “aging out” is absurd. Thank you for putting that out there, especially in a space where people are so quick to throw shade at ideas they clearly don’t understand.

Here’s the Real Tea (and Why These Shiftokers Are Wildin’):

WHEN YOU SHIFT, YOU BECOME YOUR DR SELF. Like, 100%, no question. Your CR self doesn’t hitch a ride—it’s gone. Poof. Bye-bye. You fully embody your DR self, including their mindset, memories, and yes, even their age. If you’re a teenager in your DR, you’re not some 20-something “playing pretend.” You are that teenager in every sense. Period. Full stop. The fact that people are out here acting like this isn’t the case? Girl, I’m cackling. 🙄

This Whole “I’m Aging Out of My DRs” Narrative Is a Hot Mess. The pressure people are putting on themselves to shift before turning 18 or risk being labeled “problematic” is pure nonsense. Shifting is supposed to be freeing—y’know, “infinite possibilities” and “you have all the time in the world.” But no, suddenly there’s a deadline? Like, be for real. This logic is exhausting and completely unsustainable.

And it gets even more ridiculous when you think about DRs tied to specific life stages. If your DR is “The Vampire Diaries,” which is all about high school drama, aging up to a college DR or beyond makes the plot fall apart. What are we supposed to do, shift to a version of TVD where the Salvatore brothers are discussing retirement plans? Stop it. Similarly, “How to Get Away with Murder” is college-centric. Are you going to rewrite the entire narrative for no reason? The math isn’t mathing, babes. 😭

Aging Down Isn’t Weird—It’s Practical. The funniest part? These same people who freak out about aging down are totally fine aging up for DRs. Like, what’s the difference? If you’re cool with aging up to be a DR CEO or wizard elder, then aging down to relive prom or experience high school friendships should be just as valid. It’s all about embodying your DR self, so stop making it weird. If anything, the idea that you can’t age down is what’s nonsensical.

What’s Next? Limiting DRs Based on Your CR Age? This aging-up-only mindset is the slippery slope to nonsense. Are these people really suggesting that by the time you’re 50, you’re only allowed to shift to DRs for middle-aged or elderly people? Like, enjoy your bingo hall DRs, I guess? Meanwhile, the rest of us are thriving across infinite realities, being teenagers, college students, or even dinosaurs because we understand the actual mechanics of shifting. Time is nonlinear, babes, and your possibilities are limitless. Get with the program. 🎲🦖

The Bottom Line:

When will these people realize that no matter what, you will fully embody your DR self? Aging up, down, or not at all—it doesn’t matter. Once you shift, you are completely aligned with that reality. So let’s stop pretending this is some deep ethical issue when it’s really just projection and misunderstanding from people who haven’t even shifted themselves. 🙃

Thank you for putting this out there, both on Tumblr and TikTok. You’re breaking down barriers in the shifting community, and I’m living for it. Let the naysayers keep spinning their wheels while you—and the rest of us who get it—thrive in infinite realities. Mic drop.

Last time I posted about people who don't want to age themselves down/ are highly against it. Now look what I saw on tiktok. My issue with this type of mentality is that It makes Your original reality look invincible and that it's the most important reality, that it's not like any other one. so just because you are in college in this reality doesn't mean you don't get to be a dinosaur or a teenager in the late 1870s in another one. Saying affirmations like "I am more than my body, I am eternal, I am only consciousness" while simultaneously being attached to a specific character of yourself from this reality to this degree is diabolical. You are a soul, a soul that have lived a million different lives before it reached this one. you are infinite years of age. so unbeknownst to you anywhere you're shifting, you are actually aging yourself down so that you can experience that life.

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[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

not to make angst out of a fucking gag but also thinking about the silly au rei in the final episode makes me think about how different rei would be if she didn’t have literally the worst dad ever. like, no, she probably wouldn’t have been the upbeat adhd whirlwind in the high school au lmao. but it does just make me think. because while all the pilots lives are incredibly marked by trauma, rei's the only one to have never had access to any sort of normal life. her entire personality and worldview is shaped from being isolated, groomed, and taught to see herself as a tool and not a person. and then i just get so sad that she never had any chance of a normal life where she could discover herself and what she is. she went from being abused and manipulated by gendō (which is made even worse with the implications certain scenes leave about their relationship) to becoming god. she never had any chance of living a normal life. and just like. fuck.