#chapter four 49 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soaps-mohawk · 3 months ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 49: Reforming Bonds

Summary: Your pack tries to figure out what comes next after John's announcement.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 10,527 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, explicit sexual content, p in v sex, oral sex, handjobs, shower sex, slight dom/sub dynamics, spanking (lots of asses get slapped), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, alternate universe, language, slight angst, emotions

A/N: I'm ovulating so you're welcome

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“Cap, what do ye mean?”

Chaos has erupted since John’s surprise announcement. Johnny is on his feet almost instantly in disbelief, trying to process the words his captain and alpha have just said. So they didn’t know either, judging by the surprised looks on their faces. They had no idea, and they weren’t expecting it.

“I’m retiring.” John says, repeating what he had just said. “It’s time I settled down.”

Johnny stammers for a moment, still trying to wrap his head around this sudden change in their lives.

“If you’re going, so am I.” Kyle says, rising to his feet as well.

“Kyle, you don’t have to-” John starts but Kyle holds his hand out.

“No, I want to.” The room goes still as Kyle addresses his alpha. “You’re right. It’s not fair for us to do this. Our omega deserves a normal pack and a good life.” He shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

John stares long and hard at him for a moment before nodding. “It’s your decision in the end, what you want to do.”

“This is what I want to do.” Kyle says softly.

John nods, still staring at him. He reaches out, taking Kyle’s hand. “Okay.”

There’s a sudden tension in the air as Simon stands from the couch, heading towards the back door. All four of you watch him go, the glass sliding open before closing softly. You chew on your lip, leaning forward to set John’s paperwork on the table. Part of you wants to look through it, read every small detail about your alpha as you can, but another part of you knows even some parts of him will remain secret to you. The less you know the better. That was how your place in this pack started.

Maybe it should stay that way.

You go to rise, but Johnny puts out a hand, stopping you. “Let him go, kitten.”

You glance at him for a moment before looking back at the door. You want to know what’s going through his head, what he’s feeling but he won’t let you in like that. Not right now. Even Johnny doesn’t go after him. He needs his space and you have to be okay with that.

John’s hand runs over your head, brushing your hair back from your face. You’re still staring at the door, staring out where Simon has disappeared. He squats down next to you again, his knees cracking. You fight the urge to make a joke, to tease him about his creaky joints in his retirement age.

“How are you?” He asks softly, slipping his hand around the back of your neck. It’s a comforting weight, a reminder of just how long it’s been since you presented for him. There’s a tingle beneath your skin at the touch of his hand.

“You’re really doing this? For me?” You ask, staring into those bright blue eyes of his.

“Yes.” He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re still young. You deserve to live a happy life with me in it.”

A smile forms on your face, relief starting to flood through you as the shock wears off. He’s voiced one of your deepest worries, that fear that he’d come back in a body bag someday too soon. You’d have to live the rest of your life without your alpha. Your mother was proof it could happen, but your situation is different. Your relationship with John is different than that of your parents. John’s a good alpha, a good man. He’s done horrible things, things you don’t want to think about, but you know he’d never raise a hand towards you.

The fact you feel so comfortable with his hand on the back of your neck proves that.

You lean into him, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. His arms wrap around you, lifting you up so he can sit on the couch in your place.

You settle into his lap, resting against his chest. It’s been a long time since you’ve been held by him. There’s been such a distance between the two of you, even after his return from disposing of Shepherd. You haven’t truly had a vulnerable, intimate moment with him in weeks.

Johnny lets out a sigh before heading for the back door. Kyle slips into his spot on the couch, leaning up against John. His head rests against yours, one of John’s arms slipping from around you to curl around Kyle. The three of you sit there in silence, soaking in the moment.

John’s really going to retire for you. Kyle is going to retire for you.

You never thought you’d see the day.

You press your nose into John’s neck, his beard tickling your skin. He’d shaved it when he went after Shepherd, cutting it back to its normal length. You almost miss his scruffy face. Maybe you can convince him to grow it out more once he’s officially retired. The mental image of him all scruffy-faced and soft has you shifting in his lap. You doubt he’d let himself lose his physicality, but you can dream. He’s lost more than he’d like to, no doubt. They all have.

Maybe it is a good thing he’s retiring. It would be rough to go back now after this.

Simon’s going to have a hell of a time.

You slide the door closed behind you, wrapping your arms around yourself as you step out onto the deck. He’s leaning against the railing, smoke puffing up from his lips and dispersing into the air. You stand there for a moment, waiting for him to acknowledge you, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, staring off in the distance. You wonder if this is what they saw in those times you did the same.

You take slow steps forward, keeping yourself in his peripheral. He knows you’re there. You’d be shocked if you surprised him of all people.

That could also be dangerous for you.

You step up next to him, leaning against the railing, staring out at the grey sea in the distance. He’s smoking, a cigarette held between his fingers. You wonder how many he’s smoked since he came out here. You know they all do it occasionally, Price most of all, but you haven’t seen them smoke in a long time. You wonder when he bought the pack, or if he’s been keeping it for a moment like this.

You don’t blame him one bit for needing something to clear his head.

You hesitate before you speak, wondering if you should say anything at all, or if you should just wait for him to speak his mind. You might be out here all night if you waited. Instead you take the plunge, jumping right into the swirling black pool that is Simon’s emotions.

“I won’t ask you to retire.” You bite the bullet, coming right out and saying what you know he’s stressed about. He shifts on his feet just slightly as he brings the cigarette up to his lips. “That wouldn’t be fair.” You continue. “I’d want it to be your decision. Just like I left it up to John. I honestly didn’t know he was going to do it. I didn’t think he would ever. This whole time I was thinking we’d go back to living on base, things would return to the way they were before. I wouldn’t have liked it, but it wasn’t my place to say what you all could and couldn’t do. That’s why I wouldn’t ask you to do the same. It should be your choice what you decide to do and I’m okay with it if you decide you don’t want to retire. Honestly I can’t picture you retiring like I can John…”

You trail off as he lets out a sigh, taking another drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the railing. There’s a tense moment of silence, his gaze still off in the distance.

“You talk a lot when you’re nervous.” He finally says.

“I-I’m not nervous.” You say, shaking your head.

He huffs, leaning his arms on the railing. “Can smell it on you.” He shakes his head, dropping his gaze to the yard below. “I knew he’d do it.” He starts, speaking softly. “He’s been stressing for weeks about going back, putting you through that again. I never thought he’d actually do it…”

Simon trails off, fiddling with the lighter in his hand. You watch the dexterous way he moves it, fluidly slipping it between his fingers. You can imagine a knife in its place, spinning and flipping expertly. He’s good with his hands. You know personally what those long, rough, thick fingers are capable of.

“It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting he’d say.” You shake your head, clearing it of the thoughts rapidly taking over. “But I mean it.” You sink your teeth into your lip. “I won’t be upset if you decide to stay. You and Johnny.”

Simon slowly turns to face you, staring down at you. He’s silent for a moment, staring long and hard at your face. If you didn’t know him better, you might have shrunk under that gaze, wishing you could crawl under the deck. Instead you stand there strong, squaring up to that intense stare.

“You’ve come a long way from the scared pup that was forced into your pack.” He finally says, his gaze softening just a bit. “I’m proud of you. You’ve survived more than most omegas would, and you’re still standing.” He reaches out, running a hand over your head. “I think Laswell was right in her choice.”

“I am glad she chose me.” You smile, leaning into his touch as his hand drops to cup your cheek. “Despite everything, I still think it could have been worse.” You make a face. “Phil could have gotten his way.”

Simon growls lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “I will pay you to never think about that shit stain again.”

“How much?” You smirk, letting out a shriek as you attempt to slip out of his grip. He’s too fast, though, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you back.

His hand slaps your ass, stinging even through your jeans. “Little shit.” He grunts, wiggling you around until you’re pressed up against his chest. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

“But you love it.” You grin up at him, knowing you’re right. He’s loved it for a long time, longer than he’s admitted.

He hums, leaning his forehead against yours. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You breathe, brows pulling slightly in a frown.

“For allowing me the chance to do this. For proving my thoughts and beliefs wrong.” He says. “For being so goddamn understanding.”

Your lips pull into a smile, your head tilting so you can kiss him. “I’m glad you’ve gotten this opportunity to learn to be vulnerable. Who knows where you’d be if you didn’t.”

“Still a miserable cunt with nothing to live for.” He says.

You snort, pressing another kiss to his lips. “You’ve had Johnny to live for.”

He hums in agreement. “I do quite like him.”

“It’s hard not to.” You say, wrapping your arms around Simon’s neck. “He’s just so...cute.”

“Don’t let him hear that. He’ll never let you forget you said it.” Simon mumbles against your lips.

“Nah, I’ll just tell him you said it.” You grin.

Simon growls, sinking his teeth into your lip. “You little shit.” His hand slips down, palming your ass. “Should line you all up, bend you over and spank you till you’ve got welts. See how much shit you wanna talk after.”

“Nothing can stop me.” You grin, biting his lip back.

He growls, smacking his hand against your ass again. It stings, but you can’t stop the moan from slipping through your lips.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts, squeezing your ass.

“Bit cold to be fucking on the porch.” A voice cuts through the tension, drawing you and Simon apart.

“Fuck off, Garrick.” Simon growls, his hand still on your ass.

He holds his hands up. “Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.” He grins. “Make it quick, we’re going to town for dinner.”

Simon’s hand lifts from your ass and you can imagine the gesture he made to Kyle. There’s a laugh before the door slides closed again. It makes you smile, seeing everyone back to their normal, playful selves again.

Simon leans down, pressing his face into your neck. He inhales deeply before sighing, his warm breath fanning across your cool skin. Goosebumps raise on your arms, the change in temperature making you shiver. Simon’s lips brush your neck, sliding down to your mark where he presses a soft kiss before he stands up straight once more.

“He’s right, we should get back inside.” You say, going to turn but a hand closes around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Simon grins. It has another shiver running down your back.

“To go get ready for dinner…” You say, frowning slightly at him.

His grin twists into a smirk. “He said make it quick.”

Your mouth falls open as you stare at him, the meaning of his words hitting you instantly. “Oh fuck…”

The house is quiet, the light slowly fading beneath your door as the lamps get shut off in the living room. You’re standing there, hand around the doorknob. You twist it slowly, watching the light beneath the door fade entirely to darkness.

That darkness is broken as you crack your door open, casting a stream of light from the disgusting overhead bulb. You’ve turned it on out of necessity despite how badly it burns your retinas in the otherwise dark world around you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You ask into the darkness, the shape that would be otherwise hidden on the moonless night pausing by the stairs.

“To bed.” He rumbles, turning around to face you, hand on the banister. You can picture him, leg lifted ready to lift himself onto that first step.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” You say quietly, leaning against the door frame.

“No,” He says, releasing the banister so he can turn to fully face you. “Just figured you might want some space.”

“Why would I want that?” You ask, curious as to what he’s going to come up with.

He tilts his head. “I know I haven’t been the best alpha to you lately. Retiring won’t make up for what I’ve put you through, the promises I broke. I figured I’d be the last person you’d want to see right now.”

Emotions rise in your throat, threatening to choke you. He’s not wrong. He’s hurt you in more ways than one. Retirement won’t fix everything, all of the heartbreak he’s caused you. That will take time.

But he is wrong about you wanting distance.

“Yeah, well, you’re wrong.” You say, swallowing thickly. “Kyle will survive a night without you.”

He stares at you for a moment before he nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “Okay.”

You step back from the door, hand on the light switch as you wait for him to cross the small living room. Despite the absence of one person, the cottage has started feeling smaller to you. You long for space and breathing room. It almost makes you miss the barracks.

Almost.

You turn off the light as soon as John steps through the door, breathing a sigh of relief. You close the door behind him, letting it click as it seals the two of you inside. You brush past him, heading towards the bed.

Hands dart out, wrapping around your waist before you can get too far. You’re pulled backwards and spun around so you’re facing John. It happens so fast you have barely any time to react, just managing to get your hands on his chest before you slam into his body. His arms wrap around you, keeping you pinned there as he stares down at you. His gaze is intense, burning a hole straight through you. A shudder runs through your body, your skin starting to tingle under the warmth of his hands.

“I’ve been neglecting you.” He murmurs, leaning down close to your face. His breath is warm as it fans across your skin. You try to lean up to kiss him but he pulls back just out of reach. “I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t you prove how sorry you really are?” You say, your fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your hands. “I think I can do that.”

He finally leans down, pressing his lips against yours. They’re slightly chapped but you don’t care, leaning up as far as you can to push against him. He kisses you hard, scraping his teeth against your bottom lip. You moan against his lips, sliding your hands up to his shoulders.

“Missed you.” He murmurs against your lips.

“You were the one neglecting me.” You say, pulling back.

He hums, sliding his hands down to your ass and squeezing. “Neglecting myself too. I’m not wasting any more time.” He says, leaning down to kiss you. “Get on the bed.” He growls.

“No.” You say, pulling away. “I’m in charge.”

The growl rumbling in his chest lowers in pitch, his eyes darkening but you don’t move, standing there strong despite your omega’s desire to do as you’re told. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction. He chose to neglect you, so you’re going to make sure he pays for it.

His growl softens as the tension in his shoulders relaxes. He toes off his slippers before passing you to head towards the bed. You rear back, slapping his ass on the way. He grunts, jumping slightly at the impact. He glances at you over his shoulder with a playful look before he climbs onto the bed, settling himself in the middle.

You take a moment to stare at him, taking in the sight of him on your bed, the place that’s been your safe haven for months. It’s not a nest, but it’s the closest you can get.

The sight of your alpha in it makes your pussy tingle.

You make your way to the bed, climbing onto the edge. You crawl over to him, sitting yourself up on his thighs. He stares up at you, his hands sliding up your legs.

You push them back onto the bed, shaking your head. “No touching.”

He grunts, but keeps his hands flat on the bed.

You lean forward, trailing your fingers across his cheek, feeling the prickle of his beard across your fingers as you trail them down his jaw. You continue your path down his throat, sliding over his Adam’s apple before dipping into the space between his collar bones. He swallows thickly, and you watch the way his throat bobs. You sit up on your knees, bending over him to sink your teeth into his throat. He growls, his hands closing around the backs of your knees.

His grip is tight, warning.

You don’t let up though, trailing bites across his throat to his neck. You sink your teeth into the skin below his ear drawing another growl. Your teeth leave red marks down his neck to his shoulder, where you sink your teeth in as hard as you can. He lets out a deep growl, his hand slapping your ass hard.

“Fuck.” He grunts as you let up, leaning over him.

You put your hands on either side of his head, staring down at him. “I thought I said no touching.”

“Almost took a chunk out.” He says, trailing his hands up the backs of your thighs.

“Good.” You say, sitting up on his stomach. “You bit me, it’s only fair I bite you.”

“You’ve bitten me lots of times.” He says, laying back.

“Yeah but mine won’t leave a scar.” You say, trailing your fingers down his chest.

You push your hips back, your clothed pussy pushing against the bulge in his sweatpants. You lean down, dragging your tongue across his chest before you reach his nipple, closing your lips around it. A breathy moan leaves his lips as you suck on the bud, tracing circles around it with your tongue. He sucks in a breath as your teeth scrape across his nipple, your lips curling around it to suck hard.

His hand lifts to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. You pull away from his nipple with a pop, sitting yourself up over him again.

“I said no touching.” You say, pushing his arm down. “For a military man, you don’t listen very well.”

“I never was good at following orders.” He smirks. “Only giving them out.”

You huff, forcing his hands under your knees. “Gonna have to tie you up.”

“How are you going to do that?” He lifts a brow at you.

“I’ll figure it out.” You smirk, pushing yourself back so you’re seated over his hips.

You run your fingers across his soft stomach, trailing them through the soft hair that makes a line directly where you’re headed. He’s hard under you, his bulge prominent through his sweatpants. You’re equally as aroused, panties so wet you’re probably leaving a spot on his pants.

You slip your fingers under the band of his sweatpants, finding nothing but skin. Oh, he’s gone commando underneath. You never took him for the type. You know Johnny freeballs a lot, and so does Simon, but you never thought John would as well. Maybe he hoped to get his dick wet tonight. If not by you, then someone else.

Lucky for him it did turn out to be you.

You push yourself up onto your knees as you slide his sweatpants down, revealing his cock. It’s hard and red, the tip already leaking. He’s this turned on by you and you haven’t even touched him yet. He really has been neglecting himself. You push his pants down as far as you can, his legs lifting to kick them the rest of the way off.

You sit yourself on his strong thighs, resting one hand on his hip as you drag a finger up the length of his cock. He shivers, hands clenching the sheets as you tease his head, running your finger over his weeping slit.

“So hard already.” You muse, smearing his precum down the length of his cock. “Barely touched you.”

“Told you I’ve been neglecting myself.” He grunts as you spit into your hand before finally gripping his cock.

You hum, squeezing the base before slowly dragging your hand to the top. He twitches in your hold, more precum spilling out of his tip. “If you were better behaved I might let you cum right now.” You lean down, your breath fanning his cock. “But you just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

He twitches in your hand again as you drag your tongue from base to tip, flicking it along his slit. He groans, hands pulling at the sheets. The scent of him is heavy in the air, the muskiness of his arousal mingling with your own sweet scent. You’re dripping on his thigh, leaving a wet patch where you’re seated.

“You gonna cum? Make a mess all over yourself?” You hum, slowly stroking his throbbing cock.

“Yes,” he breathes, his hips pushing up against your hand.

“I don’t think so.” You say, dropping his cock from your hand.

He lets out a growl, his head lifting to stare down at you. “You little minx.”

You shrug. “Should have been good for me and kept your hands to yourself.” You sit yourself back between his legs, pulling your panties off and tossing them onto the floor. “If you can last until I cum, then maybe I’ll be nice to you.”

You climb up over his hips again, your hand wrapping around his cock. You don’t even need to prep yourself before you line him up, sinking down onto him. Your baggy shirt blocks out his view of his thick cock spreading you open. He groans, his head tilting back as you squeeze around him, sinking down until you’re seated on his hips.

Oh god how you’ve missed his cock.

It fills you just right, spreading you open and pushing against all those lovely little spots inside of you. It might just be the perfect cock, but then again, you’re likely to think that about all of them in the moment. Four perfect cocks attached to four perfect men.

How truly lucky you are.

And how lucky they are to have you.

You start to move your hips, rocking back and forth on John’s cock. His hands are still gripping the sheets so tight you’re worried he might rip them. Oh well, that would be a problem for later.

John bucks his hips as you lift yourself, spearing his cock back into you. You force your weight down, pinning his hips to the bed. “Be good.” You warn him, despite the pleasure reeling in your brain. The desire to give in and let him pound you into the mattress is strong, but you’re in too deep and have to keep control for now.

You continue to rock your hips, rising up and down along the length of his cock. His head is lifted, neck straining as he stares at you, watching your body move. His lips are parted, his chest rising and falling heavily with his breaths. He’s holding himself back, trying to keep control on himself. He could easily take over, force you to submit, but he lets you play this game.

For now.

You press your hands against John’s stomach, feeling the muscles contract as he breathes. Even after so much time he still has kept some of his strength. You can imagine him doing his pushups and situps in the morning, keeping himself agile and strong just in case.

You wonder if he’ll continue that even after retirement.

You can imagine he will. He’ll always have that need to be ready just in case.

That protective edge will never leave the back of his mind, no matter how relaxed he gets.

That almost makes you sad.

Your hands push into his stomach, using him as leverage to bounce on his cock. You’re quickly growing tired, and the press of his cock inside you has you rapidly approaching an orgasm. He’s pulsing and twitching inside of you, and you’re shocked he’s lasted this long. A true testament to his inner resolve.

He was being bad on purpose.

You don’t doubt that one bit.

It’s all a game to him, indulging this desire to be dominant for a moment. It’s a game you’ll gladly play, though, even if for just a moment.

“Fuck,” You breathe, reaching under your shirt to rub your clit.

John groans as you squeeze around him, his head falling back as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm. Eventually he won’t be able to hold it. Eventually he’s going to lose control and cum without your permission. You’re tempted to push him that far, but at the same time you’re desperate to cum on your alpha’s cock.

High-pitched whines leave your lips as you desperately grind against his hips, fingers rubbing rapid circles around your clit. “Gonna cum!” You gasp, body shuddering as pleasure ripples through you.

“Cum on my cock.” He grunts, hands leaving the sheets to grip your thighs.

You don’t care, too close to the edge to pay much attention to him. You’re too busy chasing your own high.

Your orgasm slams into you, your hips jerking as you spasm around him. He lets out a deep moan, fingers indenting your thighs as he holds on for dear life. He won’t cum yet. He’ll be good and hold off for you despite the way you’re gripping him like a vice, your body trying to milk his own orgasm.

You pull yourself off of him, sitting back on his thighs as you take his cock in your hand. It’s slick and shiny with your juices, your hand slipping along him easily as you pump him. “Cum for me.” You breathe, squeezing your hand around his cock.

He cums with a deep groan, hips lifting as he finally gets relief, painting his stomach with his seed. You jerk him through his orgasm, seeking every last drop he can give you until he’s going soft in your hand. He’s breathing heavily, chest heaving as he slowly releases your thighs, dropping his hands back to the bed.

You crawl your way back up to his face, leaning over him as he tries to catch his breath. “So good for me.” You breathe, still damp and slick between your thighs. You know he’s getting hard again. You can smell the thickening of his scent in the air.

You press your lips against his, leaning down to rest your body against his chest. His arms come up, wrapping around you, pinning you there. You pull back just slightly, staring down into his eyes. “Fuck me like you missed me.” You breathe against his lips.

“Yes ma’am.” He says, his hands bunching your shirt around your waist. You sit yourself up just enough that he can pull it over your head and drop it on the floor.

You lean yourself back down, pressing your breasts against his chest as you kiss him again. He groans against your lips, trailing his hands across your skin.

“So fucking soft.” He grunts, squeezing your hips. His hands are rough against your back, still calloused despite his lack of handling weapons regularly. Maybe it’s just part of him, something he’ll never lose.

You don’t mind it one bit.

He wraps his arms around you, pushing up as he rolls you over onto your back. He hovers above you, elbows pressed into the mattress on either side of you. He stares down at you for a long moment, eyes tracing your face.

“What?” You ask, worrying there might be something wrong.

“Forgot what you looked like under me.” He grins playfully.

“Well, take a picture. You can share it to the group chat.” You smirk.

He chuckles. “No. This is just for me.”

He leans back down, pressing another kiss to your lips. He does kiss you like he missed you, soft and tender yet passionate and devouring. It has your toes curling and he hasn’t even touched you.

His lips leave yours to trail down your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin to leave marks just as you did to him. You shiver as he presses a kiss to your mark, the skin tingling from his touch. Your entire body is tingling as you give over control to him, submitting to him and what he’s going to do to your body to prove he really did miss you.

He kisses his way down your body, pausing for a moment to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, giving them the same attention you did to him. Your lips part in a breathy moan as he sucks on the sensitive bud, scraping his teeth along the skin before releasing it with a pop. He gives you a smirk as he continues down your body, licking a circle around your belly button before sliding even lower.

He trails kisses down your pelvis, ending with a kiss just above your clit. You lift your head up, watching him as he stares at your pussy, still slick and sensitive from your first orgasm. He hums, his thumbs spreading you open.

“Just as pretty as I remember.” He says.

A snarky remark dies on the tip of your tongue as he drags his tongue through your folds. You flop back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he finally reaches your clit, pressing a soft kiss against it.

Your lips part as he flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit, toes already curling again as he circles the still sensitive bud. His fingers keep you spread open as he licks another stripe through your folds before his lips wrap around your clit. He sucks hard, a sound almost like a mewl leaving your lips as pleasure shoots through you like an electric shock.

Your fingers curl into the sheets as John continues his relentless assault on your clit, slurping at your folds like a parched man. His tongue draws shapes across your clit, swirling and flicking, his lips closing around it and suckling hard. Your legs are shaking already, toes curled as he feasts on you like he really did miss you.

“Fuck…” You whine, pushing your hips up against his face, your thighs trying to close around his head. You don’t care that you might suffocate him. You doubt he’d complain about dying between your thighs. Out of all the ways he could go…

“Feel good, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your clit, sucking on it again.

“Yes!” You moan, your hand reaching down to slide through his hair. He cut it recently, back to the normal short length he wore on base. They’ve all cleaned up a bit, likely due to their belief they were all headed back to their old lives.

Now things have changed.

Your back arches off the bed as John continues to eat you out, pushing you closer and closer to another orgasm. You were already sensitive from the first, and the mix of his tongue and the burn of his beard on your inner thighs has you rapidly approaching a second.

“Cum for me.” He growls, scraping your clit with his teeth before wrapping his lips around it.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck, your entire body shaking as waves of pleasure course through you. You can barely handle it, colors erupting behind your eyes as you writhe on the bed. John continues to suckle at your clit, working you through your orgasm.

He finally relents once you’re shaking with overstimulation, pulling his face back from your pussy. His beard is damp with your juices, lips shining. You hold your arms out for him, inviting him to crawl back up so he’s wrapped in your arms.

“Good girl.” He murmurs.

You can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you, his knee hooking beneath your leg and pushing it up. You wrap it around his waist, pulling his body as close as you can. His hand slides beneath your back, coming to rest between your shoulder blades. He cradles you as he slips a hand between your bodies, still kissing you as his cock brushes against your damp pussy. You’re still wet despite two orgasms, worked up by the touch and smell of your alpha.

You whimper against his lips as he pushes into you, your body welcoming him in gladly. A sigh leaves his lips as you squeeze around him, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. John leans his forehead against yours as he sinks completely into you, his hips pressing flush against yours.

“Fucking feel so good wrapped around me.” He breathes, pausing there for a moment as he presses soft pecks across your face.

“Missed you.” You whisper, wrapping yourself around him as tightly as you can.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, pressing his cheek against yours. “Shouldn’t have been neglecting you.”

“Make it up to me.” You say, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before nipping it gently.

He hums before he starts moving, rocking his hips against yours. You feel so full, his cock pressing as far as it can into you with each thrust of his hips forward. It’s slow and soft, John taking his time to try and prove to you just how much he missed you, trying to make up for just how much he’s neglected you over these last couple weeks by keeping his distance.

You would have accepted him back with open arms immediately. You have missed him, despite your tumultuous emotions surrounding your alpha. You love him, you always have, even in those moments when he hurt you. You know they weren’t intentional, done out of malice in a desire to hurt you as much as he can. You know he loves you too. You can tell just by the way he handles you so delicately, how he’s tried to make up for his mistakes in the best ways he knows how.

He keeps his arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you close as he rocks against you. You moan softly in his ear, clinging to him like he might slip away, like this might be a dream you could wake up from any moment. Deep down you know it’s not, but at the same time that fear that this is all in your head runs rampant.

John presses soft kisses across your face as he makes love to you, almost as if he can sense your fears, your doubts and he’s trying to brush them away. Your nails dig into his back as he shifts his hips, his cock brushing against that spot inside of you with every thrust. It has warmth spreading through your entire body, electricity coursing through your veins, sparking every inch where his skin touches yours.

“Alpha,” You whimper, clinging onto him for dear life.

“I’ve got you.” He whispers in your ear, tightening his hold around you, lifting your body to meet his.

He moans softly, the sound rumbling in his chest as you squeeze around him. You can feel the warmth starting to pool in your stomach, heat blossoming between your thighs where his cock is sliding in and out of you slowly and steadily. You’re going to cum just like this, in the tenderness of this moment, a reuniting of your bodies after so long apart.

You can tell he’s getting close too, the occasional falter in his thrusts, the way his cock seems to pulse inside of you. He’s grunting and moaning in your ear, your own moans soft in the quiet of the room. Only the harmony of your bodies mingling together in pleasure can break the quiet that’s settled over the house in the darkness of night. Not even the rain dare fall and break this moment between you.

“John,” You breathe his name with a sigh as your back arches, pressing into him as you cum.

He’s not far behind, moaning your name into your ear as he spills into you, rocking his hips as he fills you.

He stills, resting some of his weight on you as you both lay there in bliss. It’s not uncomfortable. It’s grounding in the best way possible, his body pinning you to the bed, pussy still stuffed full of his cock. The doubts of this being real slowly float away, melting into the abyss as you breathe in his woody scent. It shoots back into the very primal parts of your brain, soothing your omega until she turns on her back in submission.

You’re crying before you realize it, tears leaking out the sides of your eyes. John shifts his weight, pushing up on his elbows so he’s staring down at you. “What is it? I didn’t hurt you did I?”

You shake your head, a quiet sob leaving your lips. You can’t put into words what you’re feeling. Bliss? Relief? That quiet ease of lingering grief you’ve been holding onto for so long finally dissipating?

John shushes you gently, cupping your face in his hands as you cry. You lean into his touch, nuzzling your face against his palm. “I’m so sorry.” He breathes, tears shining in his own eyes.

“Don’t hide from me again.” You breathe, a sob stuttering in your chest.

“I won’t.” He says, pouring nothing but conviction and truth into his voice. “I promise I won’t, and I’ll keep that promise.”

“You better.” You sniffle, pulling him down against you once more.

You lay there, the tears slowing as you hold him. There’s something so raw and intimate about this moment, sweat-slick bodies locked together in such a total way as you both allow such vulnerability. It speaks volumes of your trust in him to carry you and his trust in you to hold him. That is what you’re made for at the core of your instincts. To comfort, to care, to be the warm, open place for your alpha to retreat to. The safe space he can be vulnerable in.

Your tears slow to a stop, your breathing evening out as you lay there under the weight of him. Something has transpired in this moment, some hurdle the two of you have jumped over together in your relationship you hadn’t even realized was there. Some empty space has been filled, a hole patched.

John lifts his head, staring down at you for a moment before he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him softly, smiling at the tickle of his beard on your skin. You wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

He finally releases you after a moment, sitting himself up on his knees. You wince as his softened cock slips out of you, your body feeling deliciously sore. “Come on,” he says, trailing a hand down your leg. You feel sticky as the sweat starts to dry. “Let’s shower.”

You take his hand as he climbs off the bed, welcoming his aid in standing. Your legs are still trembling a bit, feeling unsteady as he leads you to the bathroom. You sit on the closed toilet lid as he starts the shower, waiting until the temperature is perfect.

“Come on,” He says, slipping his arms under you to carry you under the warm spray.

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold on as the warm water pelts against your skin. He stands there for a moment, holding you as he stares down at your face.

“What?” You ask, smiling at him.

“Nothing.” He says, smiling back. “Just can’t get over how beautiful you are.”

Your face warms at his compliment, your arms wrapping tighter around his neck. “Stop it.”

“Never.” He says, leaning down to kiss you again.

You kiss him back, keeping your lips locked together as he slowly lowers you to your feet. You stand on your toes, back to the spray as you kiss him. Warmth is blooming beneath your skin again as his hands slide over your hips.

He turns you around, letting you get wet in the spray before he grabs the soap, lathering his hands. He drags them across your skin, cleaning the dried fluids from your body. He takes his time with your breasts, cupping them in his hands as he drags his thumbs over your nipples. There’s a stirring beginning in your stomach again, warmth starting to sink down from your stomach to your pelvis.

His hands abandon your breasts to slide lower, trailing over your stomach before slipping even lower. He presses against your back as his hands scrub at your inner thighs, wiping the juices that have begun to dry against your skin.

Your teeth sink into your lip as his hands travel upward, one of them slipping between your legs. His fingers are gentle as they rub through your folds, still sensitive from three orgasms. His middle finger drags over your clit, making your hips jerk. You can feel him growing hard against your back, your ass pushing back against him as he continues to tease your clit.

“Fuck,” You breathe, starting to dampen between your thighs and not from the water spraying you both.

You push yourself forward, bending so your hands press against the tile wall. You push back against his ass, grinding against him.

He gets the message, pulling back just slightly before the tip of his cock drags through your folds. You’re still sensitive as he pushes into you, your pussy fluttering around him. He groans, the sound echoing around the tile walls of the shower as he presses in until he’s flush with your ass. Your hands push against the wall, pressing you back against him to take him as deep as you can.

“Fucking irresistible.” He groans, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to thrust into you.

His thrusts are quick and sharp, the antithesis of what they were just a few minutes before. Gone is the intimacy and the vulnerability, instead desperate need taking its place. It’s not about making love anymore, instead it’s feeding into that primal need taking over.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh fills the bathroom as he fucks into you hard, using his grip on your hips to pull you back against him as he thrusts into you. You can do nothing but stand there as he uses you, fighting to keep from slipping in the water still spraying both of you from overhead.

Your moans are short and sharp, nails scratching at the tiles as you get closer and closer to the edge, forced onward by the drag of his cock against that spot inside of you. It has your legs shaking, body pushing back against his as your back arches.

“Come on,” He grunts, his thrusts starting to get sloppy. He has to be sensitive still too.

Your legs do nearly give out as his fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles against the overly sensitive bud. You brace yourself against the wall, John’s arm wrapping around your stomach to keep you upright as he continues his assault on your clit.

“Cum for me.” He grunts, his hips snapping against your ass.

“Fuck…” You whine, legs nearly spasming as you gush around his cock, another orgasm slamming into you.

He curses as his thrusts get sloppy, his hips pushing hard against your ass as he grinds into you. His fingers don’t let up on your clit as he continues to chase his own high, pushing you close to the point of overstimulation. You can feel another orgasm rapidly approaching, your entire body trembling.

“That’s it,” he grunts, pushing against your clit.

Your arms nearly give out as another orgasm washes through you, just barely keeping yourself from face-planting into the wall as he thrusts hard against your ass twice more before he stills. His warm cum spurts into you as he orgasms, his head falling back as he groans low and deep.

“Bloody fucking hell.” He grunts, hands holding your hips up as you shake from the intensity of your second orgasm.

He pulls himself out of your overstimulated pussy, still spasming as his cum starts to drip out of you. He wraps his arms around you, lifting you up so you’re pressed against his chest.

“So fucking good for me, you know that?” He hums in your ear, pressing a kiss to the lobe.

You whine at his praise, a shiver running down your spine as your omega beams with pride.

He washes you clean again, taking his time washing your hair for you. You do the same to him, running the soap over his skin. You pause around his scars, gently caressing each one. It’s easy to ignore them sometimes, forget about them and their meanings. Sometimes you can’t help but stare, worry knotting in your stomach as you stare at the ones too close to vital organs. Close calls and the possibilities had those wounds just been slightly lower, slightly to the side.

Tonight you try to ignore the meanings of them, cleaning his skin until he nearly shines and the water starts to go cold.

He reaches around you to turn it off, a shiver running through you as the cool air in the bathroom hits your skin. He’s quick to wrap a towel around you, drying you off as much as he can before drying himself.

You head back into your room, forgoing clothes as you climb into the bed naked. The sheets are slightly damp and smell like sex but you don’t care. John joins you just a moment later, forgoing clothes as well. He lays down on his back, opening an arm to you. You saddle in close to his side, tossing an arm around him as he pulls the sheets up around you. You press your nose into his chest, breathing in the clean scent of soap and the natural scent of him beneath. It calms your mind, slowing down your thoughts.

“Get some sleep.” He murmurs into your damp hair, kissing the top of your head.

You hum, already halfway there as your eyes slip closed.

It’s already light outside when you wake.

The light is shining through the gap in the curtain, pulling you from the sweet arms of sleep. It’s warm under the sheets, your back pressed up against something solid. You let out a groan as you stretch, joints popping. You’ve been in this position for a while.

“Morning.” A soft voice says, making you turn your head. John is still with you, reclined up against the headboard.

“What time is it?” You murmur, rubbing your eyes.

“Just past seven.” He says, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, turning around to face him.

“Looking at houses.” He says, swiping across his screen.

“Houses?” Your sleep-addled brain can’t quite comprehend what he’s saying.

“For us to move into.” He says, glancing down at you.

It takes you a moment before the tears start to gather in your eyes. “Huh?” You push yourself up onto your elbow.

“We’ll have to go back to base for a short time while my retirement paperwork gets processed, but then we’ll have to have somewhere to go after that goes through.” He explains. “I’ve been looking at some places for a while.”

“A while?” You blink at him, trying to hold back the tears.

He nods. “Since before I left to go after Shepherd.” A tear falls at the implications of his words. “So...you’ve been planning this for a while?”

He nods again. “It’s been playing around in my head. Just took some time to finally settle.”

You scoot yourself closer, leaning your head on his shoulder. You take a couple breaths to compose yourself, to not let the emotions overflow again like they did last night. He’s been considering retiring for a while, he’s even been looking at places to move to. He’s been planning this a lot longer than you knew, than you thought.

“I like this place.” He says, showing you a listing of a nice looking modern house.

“Where is it?” You ask, looking at the photos as he swipes through them. It is nice, new and clean looking.

“Scotland.” He says.

“Scotland?” You frown. You always thought he’d want to stay in England.

“It’s a good place to retire.” He says, pausing on a photo of the backyard. “Been looking at places on the coast.”

You can’t stop the tears now, frantically wiping at them as they fall. “The coast?”

He nods. “Just for you.”

You wrap your arm around him, curling in close to his side. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, leaning his head on yours. He really has been paying attention. He really has been putting a lot of thought into you and what you’d like, where you’d be happiest and the most comfortable.

“Thank you.” You breathe, trying to hold in your sobs.

“Of course.” He says, squeezing you tightly against his chest. “I want you to be happy. You’ve gone through so much shit already, you deserve to live out the rest of your life where you’ll be at peace.”

It’s a strange jump from the no-nonsense alpha you’d met when you arrived in his life. The alpha dedicated to his job, his team, saving the world. The alpha that willingly put you second because that’s what was expected of him, because that’s what he needed to do. The alpha that broke promises to you because of the good of the world mattered more to him than you.

You sniffle, hugging him even tighter, so much it probably hurts. He doesn’t complain though, letting you cling to him as you need to.

You wonder what changed, what happened to cause this sudden shift in his priorities. Maybe it was almost losing you, maybe it was those times you got angry with him, screamed at him because he wasn’t listening, because he was neglecting you emotionally, mentally, physically. Because he wouldn’t give you what you needed and expected you to be fine. Maybe it was simply your existence here in this cottage where nothing mattered but healing and living a normal life. Maybe he finally realized just how much life on base affected you and he was able to look past the blinders the military put on him from an early age.

“I’ll never be able to thank you enough for this.” You murmur.

“Just be happy. That’s all that I need.” He says, kissing the top of your head.

You smile softly, releasing your tight hold on him. “This means so much to me.”

“I know.” He smiles. “That’s why I’m doing it.”

“You’re so good to me. It’s a nice change.” You tease.

He chuckles, his hand sliding down to your hip. “I’m going to ignore that.”

You giggle, sliding your hand down to rest on his stomach. “What other places are you looking at?” You ask.

“A few places.” He says. “Ones with enough space for a big bed.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow at him. “How big are we talking?”

“Big enough for at least three.” He says, his scent starting to thicken in the air. “Maybe enough for five.”

You bite your lip, images of tangled bodies, lips and hands all over filling your head. The four of them gathered around you as you lay there, open and ready for them. Heat starts to pool in your stomach, your thighs rubbing together.

John’s chest rumbles with a growl as your scent starts to project into the air. “What’s on your mind.”

You smirk, sliding your hand under the sheets. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Screamin’ fucking Jesus again?”

“They’ve got a lot of time to make up for.” Kyle shrugs, pulling the tea bag out of his mug and dropping it into the trash.

“It’s like they’re tryin’ tae torture me.” Johnny whines, dropping into a seat at the table.

Kyle pours some milk into his mug before joining him. “You can always go outside.”

“Might have tae.” He grunts, putting his head in his hand. “I cannae take it.”

“You’re hard right now, aren’t you?” Kyle asks, taking a sip of his tea.

“Like a fuckin’ rock.” Johnny says, leaning back in his chair as he runs a hand across his groin. “Cannae take listenin’ to those sweet noises. I just want tae stick my face between her legs and make them shake. Tha’s all.”

“You’ll get your chance.” Kyle says. “She’ll be coming for you next.”

“I hope so.” Johnny groans, dropping his head into his hands.

Thudding steps come down the stairs, Simon appearing. He pauses, glancing at your door before shaking his head. “Girl’s busy these days.”

“As long as she’s having fun.” Kyle shrugs.

Johnny almost whines, head still in his hands.

“Needy little pup.” Simon mumbles, dragging a hand through Johnny’s newly cropped mohawk as he passes. “Probably hard in your shorts, huh?”

Johnny lets out another sound, running his hand over his face. “I cannae take it.” He pushes himself up to stand, beelining for Simon in the kitchen.

“Uh uh.” Simon says, turning him around before Johnny can get a hand on his dick. “Go sit back down and be good.” He delivers a sharp slap to Johnny’s ass.

Johnny lets out a frustrated groan but does as he’s told, sinking back into his seat at the table. Kyle hides his smirk in his tea, ears perking up as the moaning in your room quiets.

“Quick one this morning.” He muses, hiding his own stiffy under the table. The mental images of you and Price together is almost too much for even him. What he wouldn’t give to bear witness to that again. His alpha and his omega lost in their pleasure together. He wouldn’t even have to participate. Just watching would be enough.

There’s a few moments of silence before your door opens, John exiting looking rather pleased. You follow him, hair slightly mussed and a dopey smile on your face.

“Good morning.” Kyle says, smirking at his alpha.

“It is.” John says, heading for the kitchen, a pep in his step.

“Morning.” You say dreamily, a fucked-out look on your face.

Johnny mumbles something, staring hard at you before rising to his feet, the chair squeaking on the floor from the suddenness of his movement. “Cannae take anymore.”

He crosses the space between you quickly, brushing the placemats off the table before he’s lifting you. You drop on your back on the table, the wood trembling from the force of it. Johnny kneels between your legs, tossing them over his shoulders before his face disappears from sight.

Your head drops back, thudding against the table as a moan slips through your lips. Kyle’s own lips part as he watches, a slurping sound rising from between your thighs.

“Oh fuck.” He breathes, watching the top of Johnny’s head bob as he eats you out. His stiffy is now rock hard, pulsing painfully in his pants.

“Fucking mutt-” Simon goes to move forward but John stops him with a hand on his chest, watching your back arch off the table as Johnny continues to slurp at your pussy.

“Let him.” He says, dropping a hand to adjust his own pants. “He’s suffered enough.”

Your moans start to fill the air, body writhing on the table as Johnny sucks at your clit, the wet squelch of his mouth cleaning the remnants of John from your pussy loud in the air. He’s eating you like a man starved, but you suppose he is.

Your hands dart out, gripping the edges of the table as your legs start to shake, overly sensitive from what John gave you this morning, and likely last night.

“Gonna cum!” You gasp, thighs squeezing around Johnny’s head but he doesn’t seem to care. He’d gladly die in your pussy if he had to.

Kyle can’t take anymore either, slipping a hand into his pants. “Fuck…” He breathes, the sounds coming from Johnny almost obscene. He’s moaning almost as much as you are, fingers indenting your thighs from how hard he’s holding onto you.

“Come on,” Simon says, moving around the table. “Be a good boy and make her cum.”

Johnny moans against your pussy, sucking hard on your clit. Your body shudders, back arching off the table as you cum against his tongue. Johnny moans, sticking his tongue into your pussy to catch every last drop of you.

You’re breathing hard, hands still gripping the edge of the table as Johnny continues to lap at you, pushing you towards overstimulation.

“That’s enough.” Simon says, wrapping his hand around the back of Johnny’s neck, yanking him up to stand. “Let the poor girl breathe.”

You continue to lay there on the table, legs dropping over the edge, still shaking just a bit.

“Look at you.” Simon tsks, licking the side of Johnny’s mouth where your juices shine on his skin. His hand drops to the front of Johnny’s boxers, pushing against them at the wet spot on the front of his shorts. “Came in your pants again, didn’t ya?”

Johnny groans, nodding unabashedly.

“Fucking whore.” Simon spits, slapping Johnny’s ass. “Go clean yourself up.”

“Yes, sir.” Johnny moans, stumbling his way to the stairs.

Simon turns his gaze to Kyle, his hand slowing in his pants. “You need to go clean yourself too?”

Kyle swallows thickly, pulling his hand out of his pants. He shakes his head. “No, sir.”

Simon scoffs. “Should try a little harder, then.”

Kyle does almost cum in his pants then, his cock twitching as Simon’s mean side comes out.

“Come on.” Simon says, lifting you up so you’re seated on the table. “Up and at ‘em princess. Gonna get your pussy juice all over the table.”

“Bit late for that.” You murmur, sliding off the edge and into a chair.

Simon grabs the cleaning spray and a rag, tossing it to Johnny as he returns. “Clean up your mess.”

“Yes, sir.” Johnny says, spraying down the table.

Kyle’s cock is still throbbing in his pants, painfully hard as he tries to focus on his tea. He should excuse himself to the bathroom, jerk himself off real quick, but instead he remains seated, enjoying the pulsing in his shorts just a little too much.

“You’re really doing it?” You ask, sinking down on the couch.

“Hmm?” Kyle hums, looking up from his phone.

“Retiring?” You continue, tucking your legs up under you as you face him.

“Yeah.” He shrugs, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Why? You don’t have to.” You say.

“Because I want to.” He explains, draping an arm across the back of the couch. “John is right. You deserve to have a happy life with your pack and I want to be there for it. I’ve done my time and I think I’m ready to have a normal life.”

“You’re giving up your career for me.” You say quietly, almost hesitantly.

“It’s worth it.” He shrugs again. “I’d rather you be happy knowing I’m always going to be there than stressed I might not be coming home. It’s not fair to you to live with that stress.”

“But Simon and Johnny…”

“They’re going to do what they’re going to do.” He says. “That’s up to them and what they want. This is what I want. I want to live a normal life with you and John. He’s going to need the support for a while.”

“This is going to be hard for him, isn’t it?” You say.

He nods. “It will be a hard adjustment. John’s never been good at living a civilian life. Even when he’s had chances to go on leave, he never fully steps away. Giving it up cold turkey is going to be hard on him. He’s going to need help, support, someone who understands. No offense to you.”

“None taken.” You say. “He’s going to need you.”

Kyle nods. “That’s why I want to be there. It wouldn’t be fair for me to try and help from a distance. You’ll need help too, trying to adjust to a normal pack life again. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left you both to flounder.”

You lean your head against his arm. “You’re so good to us. Too good.”

He smiles. “Nah, I just love you both.” He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in against his chest.

“I love you too.” You say, relaxing against him, and you mean it.

You love all of them so much it almost hurts.

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #cod fic #poly 141 #141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

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isyguess · 13 days ago

Text

Fanbinding for absolute beginners - PART 1

There's a fanfic you love so much you'd like to have a physical copy of it? But you don't know how to make it? You've come to the right place! I'm a teacher and I've done this with my pupils (11 year olds), so you can do it, too!

To preface this, obviously this is only one of many methods to bind a book, and it's not perfect, but it's easy enough for my pupils to do it, so I thought I'd share how I do it, to hopefully help people who want to bind fanfics but have never done it before! :)

Here are some examples of what my books look like when done:

Part 1: Preparations on the PC and printing

To start off, a book is made up of several signatures, which is just a bunch of pages folded in the middle. I've found the best signatures for this method are made of four A4 (or letter format) sheets of paper, folded, so it makes 16 pages in total. But signatures of 5 or 6 sheets work well too!

That means you need to prepare your pdf to have a page count that is dividable by 16 (4 sheet signatures), 20 (5 sheet signatures) or 24 (6 sheet signatures). I usually just add blank pages to the front and back of the book until I reach a usable page count. Also check that your chapters start at the page you want (odd pages are on the right, even ones are on the left).

If that is done, you can get to printing. I print signature per signature, and use Adobe Acrobat for that. Apparently, the free trial version can do this too, so no need to pay for it if you don't have it!

The fanfic I'm printing has 320 pages, so I'm gonna print 20 signature made of 4 sheets (16 pages). I write down which pages make the signature so I can them just type them in:

Signature 1 consists of pages 1 - 16

Signature 2: 17 - 32

Signature 3: 33 - 48

Signature 4: 49 - 64

...

Signature 20: 305 - 320

Now, printing works like this:

In Adobe Acrobat, open your pdf and click on print. In the printing options, you first chose the "Booklet" option and then type in the pages for the signature you want to print (e.g. 1-16). Hit print and you'll have your first signature, which you can then fold in the middle! Repeat this step for all the signatures until you've printed the whole book. Done!

If you've got any questions or need clarification an anything, feel free to ask!

(This is just a screenshot from the web, so the numbers don't match, but my Adobe Acrobat is completely in German, so it would probably be even less helpful!)

About the paper: I use normal printing paper in a bit of a yellowish colour (looks better than the sharp white of normal paper). Printing paper has, however, the wrong paper grain, so if you have access to paper with grain in the other direction, take that instead! The results with printing paper are okayish, with maybe a few wrinkles, but nothing too bad (in my opinion, haha).

The parts of this tutorial:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

#fanfiction #fanfiction bookbinding #fanbinding #bookbinding #tutorial #fanfiction binding

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 28 days ago

Text

Hard Times

Masterlist + Soundtrack

❥Kim Hongjoong x fem reader

18+ MDNI. fun fact; minors will explode if they touch my blog

♡'･ᴗ･'♡genre: yandere, ANGST, smut

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: DEAD DOVE. DARK FICTION. listed more specifically on each chapter: step-dad hongjoong, featuring uncle bumjoong doing his best + best friend hiyyih being an angel, reader calls hj dad on accident / jokingly + he likes it a little too much, age gap (reader young adult, hong in his late 30s), serious daddy issues, soul crushing grief + survivors guilt (reader survives a crash that takes her parents), flashbacks give a glimpse of them before the accident, depictions of deep depression, medication, emotional manipulation (lowkey going both ways), unhealthy attachments + extreme taboo relationship, hardcore daddy / ddlg kink (wow shockerrrr), hongjoong is a freak with a corruption kink and likes making virgin reader: squirm / cry / call him daddy / suck on his fingers, honestly dubcon (she shouldn't be making these decisions in her headspace to begin with + hong blurs the lines of consent)

✫彡wordcount: 22k (AND COUNTING)

➯a/n: siiiigh when will i learn to keep things as simple one shots— IIIIN MY DEFENSE... eeeh i got nothin lmao just daddy hongjoong stuck on the mind 😪

taglist ? ➾ open !

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

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"I can't help you if you don't tell me what you need."

"I need you to hold me."

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Teaser

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Chapter One

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: brief hospitalization, attempted suicide, emetophobia, non sexual nudity, no smut

In Which: After the untimely death of your family, your step-father steps up and takes care of you.

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Chapter Two

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: alcohol, possessive behavior / jealousy, there's nowhere hongjoong's tongue doesn't go: making out + cunnilingus + hickeys, body worship, fingering, pussy + thigh job

In Which: Navigating your day-to-day becomes increasingly less difficult with your step-dad proving, time and time again, he always has your back.

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Chapter Three

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: virginity loss, kim "just the tip" hongjoong, epilogue included

In Which: You've finally reached some level of stability, and life isn't so bad with Hongjoong by your side.

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Hard Times

⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻

ılıılıılıılıılıılılıılıı

♫Hard Times - Ethel Cain♫

1:43 ━━━━●───── 5:03

"A little girl who needs her Daddy real bad."

"In the corner, on my birthday, you watched me. Dancing right there in the grass."

"Too tired to move. Too tired to leave."

♫Now this house ain't a home - ATEEZ♫

0:58 ━━━━●───── 3:44

"You never know what's around the bend."

"The world is cold to me, so cold. The world is dizzying to me, so dizzying."

"I endure one day, then one more — hoping someday I'll reach that place."

♫Home - Daughter♫

2:10 ━━━━●───── 4:18

"Keep the nightmares out, give me mouth-to-mouth — I can't live without you."

"I don't stand a chance in these four walls."

"Now he's moving close; my heart in my throat."

♫Devil On My Back - Chrissy♫

0:35 ━━━━●───── 3:13

"And when you're crying, are you lying about who you're crying for?"

"While I'm not getting better, you're waiting patiently. You're being strong for me."

"He used to touch himself to photographs of me..."

♫Skin - Marika Hackman♫

2:10 ━━━━●───── 4:18

"I'm jealous of your neck — that narrow porcelain plinth of flesh... It gets to hold your head, and I'd rather preform the task instead."

"I am too naive."

"To shed some light, the fire must get in."

♫Watch You Sleeping - Blue Foundation ♫

2:25 ━━━━●───── 6:33

"I want to carry you, but you won't get up. It's really killing me, you know it's killing me."

♫Jupiter - Flower Face♫

0:24 ━━━━●───── 4:31

" 'Til my body overflows in the summer afterglow. I love you more than you will ever know."

♫Work Song - Hozier♫

2:31 ━━━━●───── 3:49

"In the low lamp light I was free — heaven and hell were words to me."

♫Daddy Issues - The Neighborhood♫

1:18 ━━━━●───── 4:19

"And if you were my little girl, I'd do whatever I could do. I'd run away and hide with you."

♫Francis Forever - Mitski♫

1:02 ━━━━●───── 2:29

"I don't know what to do without you... I don't know where to put my hands."

♫Cinnamon Girl - Lana Del Rey♫

"If you hold me without hurting me — you'll be the first who ever did."

1:54 ━━━━●───── 5:00

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kiame-sama · 16 days ago

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Transformation Spin-off! (Feline)

Warnings: spin off from chapter 49 of the HAE series, yandere, multiple yanderes, platonic and romantic yanderes, reader insert, fem pronouned reader, Nickname use (Leona to Reader: Mousey), monster au, selkie, hellcat, Faun, Satyr, Sphinxes, Nemean Lions,

~~~~

"What is going on over here?"

The deep growl of Divus sounded out as the displeased Selkie came over to check on what may have taken place. Ace and Deuce didn't know how to respond to the Selkie, not wanting to get in trouble despite what took place. Grim, however, did not care about getting in trouble, he was concerned for you.

"Water-dog, help! Mama fell in!"

The frantic cries of the Kit made Divus tense in fury as he quickly reached in to pull his precious Pup out of the tilted cauldron. His fingers brushed against the edge of a Uniform's fabric, gripping it and yanking back to pull the soft Human from the violet potion. What emerged from that potion was not Human.

You sputtered and struggled, trying to get the tingling potion off of your skin as you flopped in the grasp of the Selkie. It felt as if your very skin were recoiling from the moist feeling of the potion that clung to you. When you were finally set down onto the cobblestone of the Greenhouse flooring, you were able to take a look at what damage had been done. On your upper half, you felt about the same as you had before. A little uncomfortable with the moisture from the potion, but no worse for wear. Your bottom half was an entirely different story.

Where you were expecting to see your two legs, you now had five additional limbs and what seemed to be an extra body attached to where your hips would have been. Four legs like that of a big cat were scrabbling on the floor as you tried to sit up, a pair of wings flopping weakly in your effort. A long and fluffy tail lashed as you tried to get up, staring at your lower half in disbelief.

Your fur was a shining and unique mix of leopard spots, tiger stripes, and rainbow coloration. It was as if you had been dipped into a vat of technicolor paint and came out looking like a rainbow attacked you. Even as you struggled to get these new paws under you to get yourself up, your legs kicked and writhed near uselessly.

Mentally, your brain was struggling to send out proper commands through your nervous system to your new limbs, leading to an almost spasming motion. Even as you writhed and somewhat got your paws under you, standing was no easy feat. The movement of your spine was now doubled in flexibility as well as sensation given you had an entirely new body attached to your lower half.

"Where is she? Where is Mousey?"

The deep percussive growl of Leona made you look up in surprise, seeing the Lion and several others approaching quickly. Among the group was also a very familiar limping professor, who caught sight of you quickly. His large wings suddenly flared out, stopping the others in their tracks. They seemed ready to complain at the elder Sphinx before they caught sight of you struggling to stand and your more than unusual additions.

Trein seemed acutely aware of your plight, walking over to you slowly and crouching by your still writhing body.

"I can't- I can't stand..!"

"Breathe, little Cub. Focus on one leg at a time and try again. One, than the other."

You did your best to follow Trein's advice, managing to get your legs under you and stand up after a few tries. Though your legs were somewhat shaky and unsteady, the Sphinx remained patient with you as you got up onto those legs, your wings still hanging limply. He even allowed you to lean up against his side to help you take a few hesitant steps and adjust to the limbs that felt so foreign to your mind.

Though you managed to stand, it was clear you were still hesitant about moving in any direction. It was also clear that the group of Housewardens who answered your collar's distress signal were keenly interested in your new limbs. Leona most of all.

"Well, what d'you know? Mousey isn't so much of a little Door-mouse anymore! Fur looks good on you, little squeaker, even if you are a precious and clumsy thing."

"Leona Kingscholar, do not attempt to demean (Y/n). Thanks to whatever potion mishap this was, she is clearly a Sphinx, for better or for worse. I will not abide you taunting her for struggling in this new form."

Leona scowled as Trein reprimanded him, glaring at the older feline with crossed arms. It was clear he wasn't going to argue with Trein, but he didn't like being told to tone down his teasing. If anything, Leona felt more inclined to fight the opposing male for your affections. It was clear that he wasn't the only one with this mindset.

Countless students seemed to be eyeing you as you tried to keep yourself steady on your feet, even Ace and Deuce- the ones who caused this entire mess- seemed interested. Divus and Trein were both acutely aware of how the others looked at you and examined you. Trein was not of the mind to allow these ruffians a moment longer of ogling you, laying his own wing over your feline figure.

"Divus, I will be escorting (Y/n) to the field to help educate her on how functioning as a Sphinx. Where I have no doubt this is a temporary transformation, I do believe it is best she knows how to at least run if need be."

Divus was actually somewhat pouting at this suggestion, seemingly wanting to argue with Trein. You knew both males were keen to be in a fatherly role to you, but it made more sense to have Trein help you at that moment. No doubt Divus wished he could do the same, but he was no Sphinx and you needed the guiding paws of the elder Sphinx to learn how to function in this new body of yours.

"... Very well. Puppy, you are excused from class today. You two on the other hand," he turned sharply and suddenly to face Ace and Deuce who recoiled from the Selkie, "will be cleaning every cauldron present from top to bottom until they sparkle for your careless behavior!"

As Divus began laying into the Goat duo, Grim purred excitedly, cuddling up to your now furred legs and mewling at you sweetly. Despite how unsteady you were, you took the time to carefully pick up the Kit and set him between your wings as he cuddled down into your shoulder blades. It was clear Grim was more than excited to have the chance to cuddle you and took a shine to the fact you were more feline than ever before.

Leona watched intently as you and Trein made your way out of the greenhouse, the Lion slinking into the shadows to keep up with the two of you. Perhaps this wasn't a bad turn of events after all, at least he got to see you in a form so close to that of a Nemean Lion. He may even be able to win you over if he proves himself an efficient enough protector.

#kiame-sama #humans are extinct twst au #yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #hae transformation Spin-off

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gunwoo-bh · 2 months ago

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The Night Shift - Part 7 [Min Yoongi x f!Reader]

MIN YOONGI x F!READER UniStudent!Yoongi AU SUMMARY: You chose a boring, quiet job at your campus’s 24-hour library for a reason: it kept you away from drama, gossip, and parties. It was positively uneventful. Until it wasn’t. Warnings: swearing, teasing, lots of flirting, definitely some fluff, mild sexual tension, some drinking A/N: THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR WAITING. I have been working hard on this and it is the longest chapter I've ever written. Things are finally happening between Yoongi and reader and I'm really excited for what's next. I have updated the tag list and if I forget anyone? Please let me know. ENJOY :D

THE NIGHT SHIFT

PART 7

The morning of the couch retrieval is chaotic.

For one, your building elevator stops working and is under maintenance. Of course. So, this means you’ll have to take your old couch down the stairs and the new one up the stairs. Not ideal, but manageable.

Two, the girls have woken up later than intended, which isn’t the worst thing to happen. Yoongi’s friends Jungkook and Hoseok are also late. His text definitely made it sound like they had drunk too much the day before.

And three, your stomach is shambles. When you all discussed the plans for that day, it was agreed that Yoongi and yourself would be going to get the couch in the van. Jungkook and Hoseok will go along with you in Hoseok’s car, to help you load it in the van and return ahead to help Eunji and Hwayoung bring the old couch down since you’d have to drive slower.

Oh, and yes, reason four why the morning was chaotic? No one wanted to bring the couch down the night before so it has to get done today.

You are absolutely going stir crazy with the fact that you’re going to be in a car with Yoongi alone for at least two hours. The two of you have been texting even more than the usual, and even flirting too. And you have been looking forward to this day since he offered to help but now that it’s here, you wonder if you’ll be able to survive the stress of it all.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, grabbing it and smiling at none other than Yoongi’s text.

Yoongi [8:49 AM]: Even though we’re leaving later than we wanted…

Yoongi [8:49 AM]: It’s still too early (sad face emoji)

You [8:50 AM]: Have I said how happy and grateful I am? (smiling face emoji)

He reads the message but doesn’t answer.

You hear the doorbell, running out of your bedroom to the door as you press the call button, “Hello?”

“It’s me. I’m downstairs.” Yoongi.

You smile brightly, something he can probably hear in your voice, “I’ll be right there!” You run to grab your bag, Eunji and Hwayoung watching you with glee as you yell out, “I’ll see you guys later! Meet us downstairs!”

You hurry down like your life depends on it, smiling ear to ear as you slow down on the last flight of stairs. You look up to see him on the other side with the softest smile as you open the door.

“Hi…” He takes a long languid look at you, “You made it.”

He nods, glancing back, “I did. And the guys too.” You look behind him to see Hoseok and Jungkook coming out of the car. “You ready?”

“Mhm, Eunji and Hwayoung are gonna be down in a second.” You breathe out, watching the way he smiles when he’s looking at you. You step out of the building right as his friends walk up the steps.

Yoongi turns to them then back to you, “This is Jungkook and there is Hoseok, they’ll be helping your friends move that old couch down…”

You introduce yourself to them, looking up towards the building, “I’m sorry in advance for the trouble. Our elevator is under maintenance for god knows how long…” you scratch the back of your neck.

Hoseok shrugs, nudging Jungkook, “Eh, I’m sure all four of us can figure it out while you guys are out. Do you have anyone helping you guys load the new one?”

Jungkook nods, “Mhm, maybe one of us should come with you?”

“We’ll be fine,” you snap your head to Yoongi, wondering if he’s already planned something, “the people selling the couch will help us out.”

You frown as you watch him, “Really?”

He glances at you, “I couldn’t help myself, I reached out to confirm some things.”

You reach out to playfully push him. He had been begging you to give him the contact info so he could confirm things but you had insisted everything was fine. Somehow he had managed to find a way to reach out to sellers. He mouths a small ‘sorry’, making you giggle while looking down to your feet.

The door opens behind you where your friends step out to get introduced to the boys as you look at them, “Oh, Jungkook, Hoseok, Yoongi, these are my friends Eunji and Hwayoung…”

This is the first time your girls are really seeing Yoongi anywhere near you, and you feel their eyes lingering between the both of you during this introduction. You shift closer to him to make more space on the steps, Yoongi grabbing your shoulders to place you in front of him.

Hoseok makes small talk with your friends as they discuss some more details about moving the old couch down the stairs. You feel Yoongi’s presence behind you shift as he nudges your hand with his, nodding towards the van parked just in front of your home.

“We’ll get going, we have a few hours to kill and you guys need all the time to figure that situation…” Yoongi lazily gestures towards your building.

Jungkook shakes his head and says, “Pffft, please, we’ll have it done before you guys come back.”

“I like the confidence.” You say, smiling as Jungkook winks at you, which makes you laugh. Turning to Yoongi you say, “Let’s go.”

You hug your friends really quick as you walk to the van, getting in the passenger seat and waving everyone goodbye as you and Yoongi drive off.

You’re maybe twenty minutes into the drive when he looks over to you and you do the same. Your eyes meet briefly as he looks back out to the road and you start laughing. You see the frown that’s growing on his face as you giggle, covering your face.

“You’re pouting.”

He scoffs, shaking his head, “I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

He sighs, biting his lower lip. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel and you smile as you look out the window.

“Jungkook’s a flirt. You have to watch out for him.” You immediately start to grin, pivoting your head to stare at him like he’s grown a second and third head. Doesn’t he realize it’s him you like?

“Not my type.” You say, meeting his gaze briefly as you giggle. “Plus, I know someone who likes him.”

He stays quiet, saying nothing for a while until you reach in the bag of snacks his mother left the two of you. Clearing his throat, he glances shyly at you, “Who is it?”

“It’s a secret.”

Humming, he smacks his lips, “Jungkook likes your friend Eunji.”

You turn your entire body towards him, restricted by the seatbelt as you huff a laugh at that revelation. Your mouth hangs open, the corners of it tugging into a smile as you begin laughing, “What? Eunji?”

He nods, “The moment he realized we were hanging out, he wanted me to ask you to set him up with her…” he takes one hand off the wheel and rubs the back of his neck. “I told him I wouldn’t do that, that it wasn’t fair to put you in that position…”

“To play cupid?”

He nods, “Mhm.”

“You could’ve…”

He raises an eyebrow at you as you add, “Eunji has had the biggest crush on Jungkook all semester long…” You laugh to yourself. “I even thought about asking you if it was rude to ask you for his number for her but she insisted I didn’t…She didn’t want to make our friendship weird.”

He looks over to you, then down to the kimbap in your hands, “Can I have one?”

“Mhm.” You carefully unwrap part of it to make it easier for him to eat as she smiles. “Here.”

He takes it from you, biting into it eagerly. You’re both quietly eating as he keeps driving.

“So, without meaning to, we've left them to meet and get to know each other…”

You smile, “Eunji is so charming they’ll have a date planned by the time we get back, I guarantee you…”

Yoongi snorts, “You think so?”

“I’m willing to bet money.” You sound so confident, amusing him as he nods.

“Okay, I’m a smart enough guy to know that I am definitely losing this one.” He’s laughing while taking another bite. “How long have you all known each other?”

“Mhm?”

“Hwayoung and Eunji.”

“Oh! Well, I met both of them during our first year and they were my first roommates, and I was new to Seoul so they helped me get out of my shell.” You smile, reminiscing over your first year of friendship with your girls. “We decided to stick together and here we are…”

“They’ll kill someone for you I bet.”

“We do have a plan if the need arises.” You’re grinning as he snaps his head to glance at you, shocked. “I’m kidding! Jeez, your face was priceless!”

You both fall into a comfortable silence as you play radio DJ, looking out the window as you hold his phone in your hands. You’re smiling, watching the beautiful sunny day as you cross the bridge to your destination. You feel the device in your hands buzzing a couple of times, not daring to look down and invade his privacy as you lift it towards him.

“I think you’re getting some messages.”

He briefly glances at you, “Can you check that for me? Might be the guys. Password is 0411.”

You bring the phone back to your lap while still staring at him like he’s grown two more heads, “What?”

“Can you please check who texted?” His eyes wrinkle, clearly amused at your shock.

You do as he asks, unlocking his phone to check his messages. When you open the messages app you’re met with a small amount of text conversation, but the most shocking thing to you is that your conversation is pinned right at the top next to his parents and Namjoon. You smile softly as you glance down to spot Hoseok’s message.

“It’s Hoseok.”

“What did he say?”

You read the message, “Uh, he’s asking if we want to have fried chicken later on after we’re all done?”

He nods, “Yeah, if that’s okay with you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

He shrugs, “Because I’m assuming we’ll be eating it at yours, and that you might not be ready for me, or us, I mean, to come into your space…” he’s stumbling over his words near the end there, making you smile.

“I’d be mad if you didn’t stay.” You look down to the phone but quickly back to him. “Can I tell him we’d love to buy you food for helping?”

He’s about to protest but you cut him off, “Oppa, I’m gonna be so mad if you even think of saying I don’t have to because I know I don’t, I know we don’t but I, I mean, we’re like that. So, let us buy you guys fried chicken and beer–”

“You don’t drink…”

You laugh, “I’ll get myself some Cola…” you relax against the seat, “Okay? So, after all this, please stay, you and your friends, with us to have some chicken. On us. As a thank you.”

Yoongi looks like he’s considering for a moment but he knows he’s lost this battle, “Text him.”

You start laughing and he sighs loudly, making your belly hurt when you laugh even more, “Okay..”

Yoongi [9:47 AM]: Hoseok, it’s me. Yoongi Oppa is driving, but yes, let’s have fried chicken absolutely. It’s on me and the girls. As a thank you for helping us out! (smiling emoji)

You shut the phone again, smiling to yourself at how flustered you both get around each other. You look at the satellite navigation and realize how close you are, “Oh, we’re almost there.”

“Yeah, we are.”

When you return to your apartment it’s nearly noon and you’re both getting hungry again, but rather than eat, all six of you very carefully bring your new pride and joy up those horrible flights of stairs. You have never sweat so much in your life, panting as you watch Hoseok and Jungkook bring up the last piece. Standing at the bottom of the stairs you crouch and take a moment to breathe.

“You good?” Hwayoung asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

You’re nodding, looking up, “Yeah, I don’t think I need to work out this week is all.”

She laughs, looking around as if to make sure you’re alone, “So, how did it go with you-know-who?”

You immediately start feeling timid, “It went good. It was nice. He’s a good driver.”

She smacks you over the head, “Yah! You know that’s not what I’m asking!”

“Ouch!” You rub the back of it. “It went fine. The wife thought Yoongi and I were a couple buying the couch, kept…kept calling us cute…”

She starts giggling and kicking her feet, “Oh my god, I wish I was there to see your little face getting all shy!” She reaches over to pinch your cheek as you swat at her.

“You’re such an ass sometimes.” You tease, shaking your head. You look up again and huff, “He even played into it too. I was so embarrassed, I was sure he would have caught on…”

Hwayoung confidently shakes her head, “Naaaah. I’m sure he doesn’t think he could ever be so lucky to have a girl like you even think of him that way.”

You scoff, “Don’t put me on a pedestal, that’s weird.”

“I’m your best friend, of course I’ll put you on the highest of pedestals…”

You wearily stand up, every muscle in your body sore from all the moving and lifting, “You’re sweet, I love you.” You walk to hug her, sagging your entire body against hers.

You hear footsteps behind you, Hwayoung gently tapping your hip to alert you as you remove yourself from her arms. You turn around to face Yoongi who has his hands shoved in his pockets, looking between both of you.

“We’re done upstairs. The guys wanna go get food but we were gonna go back home,” you perk up, concerned, “and we were gonna come back to have that fried chicken…We just all really want showers.” He laughs softly, earning one out of you too. He senses the relief in your body as you shift on your feet. Oh god, he could absolutely tell you were worried he was leaving and not returning.

“Yeah, yeah, no that makes sense. I mean,” you turn to your friend, “gives us a chance to do the same.” You tuck a loose strand behind your ear.

And just like that, you all agree to meet a few hours from now.

You can’t quite believe the setting at this moment.

You’re sat on the ground in your living room, leaning against your brand new couch as Jungkook and Hoseok are dancing around the room, laughing and making everybody laugh. Hwayoung and Euni are matching their energy, making the entire evening a hundred times better.

You glance across the table to Yoongi who is sitting cross-legged, arms crossed over his chest hiding either amusement or embarrassment behind his bangs. He looks so good. He’s dressed extremely casual. A pair of black sweat pants and a black hoodie. Really nothing to write home about but because it’s him? So much to write home about.

He meets your eyes and smiles at you.

This entire night you’ve been giving each other little smiles, looking away the moment you caught the other looking. He’s been getting you sodas whenever yours runs out or gets you more chicken when your plate is empty. He’s considerate and pays attention.

But your friends, and new friends, are having so much fun. But you are also getting overwhelmed and overstimulated by it all. Your social battery tends to die down far quicker when you have to think too much about how you are perceived. It’s a day to day worry for you.

You calmly clean up the empty boxes of fried chicken, making sure there’s at least less of a mess for later but you know they’re all drinking, dancing and singing, and it will most likely last for a few hours. You don’t mind it, you can usually go to your room and your friends just understand when you start cleaning and slip away.

Which is what happens.

You don’t mean to, but you’re spent and you are quite honestly overthinking.

You think nobody notices when you go to your room, leaving the door ajar just so you’re not being completely anti-social, you know?

You go to your en-suite bathroom because yes, you are lucky to have one and you thank your friends all the time that they let you have it. You grab some sweatpants and a sweater, remove your makeup and brush your hair. You take a good look at your own self in the mirror and smile, shaking away the mildly self-deprecating thoughts as you head back out to your room.

You are walking to your bed when you hear the faintest knock amidst the karaoke going on in your living room.

“Come in…”

The door creaks gently, a tuft of black hair poking through to reveal Yoongi as he meets your eyes. He’s waiting for your permission to let him in, because he would never dare assume he could. You nod, crossing your arms over your chest as he fully steps in and he hesitates to shut the door but does so.

You breathe out in relief, “Loud out there.” You remark. “They’re having fun?”

He nods, facing you but his eyes are dying to explore your bedroom, “Yeah, too much maybe…” he laughs, “You were right by the way. Jungkook said Eunji asked him out on a date.”

You don’t even look surprised, no. You look pleased at your friend’s confidence.

“I figured…” You watch him, chewing on your lower lip. “You can look around. I’ve got nothing to hide…”

He exhales, taking a few more steps inside to wander as he looks from wall to wall. He doesn’t rush the process. He delicately takes his time looking at every inch of your room, and you stand there watching his back as he learns you. Is he psychoanalyzing me? You don’t think you’d even mind. It seems to be a Yoongi thing to do. He learns people without talking.

Because sometimes you tell more of a story when you’re not talking.

You stand still in the middle of your room, over-analyzing every inch of your belongings as you wonder what everything says about you. What can Yoongi see.

Too many books, for one.

“How many books do you think you have?”

Fuck, seriously?

“Uh,” you’re nodding, and you should know an actual answer to this because you do, “I don’t think I know, too many that’s for sure. Too many for my bookshelves.” You laugh nervously.

He finally turns to you, standing taller, “You okay? You uh, you left pretty quick…”

The question, you don’t know why, catches you off guard as you nod, “Yeah, my social battery for being around people, new people especially just…depleted…”

He steps towards you a little more, “Should I go?”

“No,” you shut your eyes, because you absolutely said that too quickly, “I mean, no. You can stay.”

You notice the space between the two of you growing smaller and smaller, and soon enough you are almost toe to toe or chest to chest. You make the simple mistake of looking up to him and he’s already staring at you.

You look from his eyes and briefly glance to his lips before down to your feet, “Have I said thank you for helping?”

His voice is hoarse, it’s strained from…what? “A couple of times…”

“Good, I just wanted to make sure I had, y’know–” you gasp when you feel his hand wrap around yours.

You look up at him and there is no denying it. He’s looking directly at your lips and there’s no more questioning it. It’s not one sided.

Min Yoongi most likely feels the same way you do.

You feel the way his fingers gently ply yours apart, some of them wrapping around yours as you suddenly feel his breath on your cheeks. Oh god, when did he get so, so close?

You watch the way his eyes search yours, again looking for anything to indicate to him that you want this and you can’t help but wonder how long it will take him because you do want this. Terribly so.

You reach up on your tippy toes, his fingers tightening around your hand and pulling you closer. You finally think this is it, the moment where you get to know what kissing Yoongi is like.

But sometimes you can’t always get what you want.

“Unnie!!”

It’s Eunji, and both of you pull apart, facing the door as it opens with Eunji and Jungkook at the door.

“We’re gonna go out for drinks, do you wanna come?”

She must be so drunk to not realize who she’s talking to but it’s Yoongi who speaks, “She doesn’t drink.”

You’re shocked but you’re more distracted by the hand he was and is still holding behind your back, squeezing your tangled fingers in reassurance, “I’ll stay in, I think…”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi, “You coming?”

You know he has to go, because otherwise there are going to be questions. Questions that neither of you are ready to answer. Because neither of you have actually processed anything. There is so much that happened in so very little time.

“Yeah, let’s go.” He let’s go of your hand, stepping around you and as he’s about to step out he looks back to you, “Talk later?”

You hum, and nod. And just like that he leaves you.

And you’re alone in your apartment with all of your thoughts.

6 PM to 11 PM has been pure torture.

You haven’t slept a wink.

Everyone has been gone for hours and yet you’re still by yourself at the apartment, lying in your bed staring at the ceiling contemplating what’s next.

Buzzing. Your phone buzzing is what’s next.

You reach out to it so fast, it falls to the ground and you fear for it until you grab it. Your face freezes but your heart jumps in anticipation at Yoongi’s text on the screen.

Yoongi [11:12 PM]: You okay?

How do you answer that?

How do you explain that his being that close to you has nearly reduced you to pieces? That you wish you had locked your door. That you could stay in that moment with him.

Fear rises in your chest, but it also becomes your inspiration. Your courage.

Being honest with yourself means being honest with him.

You [11:14 PM]: Being honest?

You [11:17 PM]: I thought you were gonna kiss me in my room.

And you shut your phone, eyes squeezed shut. Shit, shit, shit.

And just as quick as the text is sent? Your phone buzzes with a phone call.

And the caller ID? Yoongi.

With little hesitation, and anticipation, you answer, “Hi?”

“Hi…” his voice is strained, and he’s breathing heavily.

You both stay silent on the line with only both of your breathings being the only thing heard you settle in that silence. You relish the moment before everything changes. Because as hopeful as you may be? He could very well want something different.

“I nearly did.”

Your heart jumps, “What?”

“Kiss you.” Your heart jumps. “I nearly did. I…I still want to.”

A/N: Here it is! They've almost kissed and there is no more denying for them. I hope you enjoy this, things are gonna get moving soon! :D

tag list: @muchwita @kam9404 @ot72025 @lalazilz @janeelizabeth1216 @rinkud @yngisstuff @lolpanda94 @angelicbunnee @wubbz05 @illicitelle @legendarydreamqueen @flyxfall @mintmango-min @moorepls @gojomyoneandonly @yoongiiuu93 @wobblewobble822 @michaela0901 @ariakamil @watchingover-hypegirl @lovesvt17 @misschelliejeon

Post separator credit to @hyuneskkami

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luxerians · 5 months ago

Text

The Last Mask (16)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 16 - Caught You

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 17.1

PREV : Chapter 15

The fourth game finally ended after twelve grueling rounds. In total, 49 players were eliminated. It was supposed to be 48, as only four players were meant to be eliminated in each round, but one round had five players caught in the elimination zone. They couldn’t come to a unanimous decision about who would be spared, and as a result, all five were executed.

You and soldier 011 had put your masks back on – you in your square mask and her in her triangle one. The players had left and descended the stairs back to the dormitory. Only you, manager 009, and several circle guards remained in the game location. The workers quietly cleaned the conveyor belt, erasing the blood and tidying up the room.

Once everything was in order, you and manager 009 left the area, walking through the labyrinth of corridors. The silence between you was heavy, but it didn’t last long.

“Where’s 019?” manager 009 asked.

You kept your gaze forward, your voice calm and steady in disguise. “Not sure. They should’ve been back by now.”

Manager 009 didn’t press further, and the conversation ended there. The two of you continued toward the control room in silence.

When you entered, the first thing you noticed was the Front Man standing in the center of the room. The screen displaying the pictures of the surviving players glowed brightly beneath him. Beside him stood the masked officer as they both gazed at the massive screens showing live feeds of the dormitory.

Your eyes scanned the room, and you spotted manager 009 walking towards their previous station. Taking that as a green light, you made your way to your own monitor and sat down.

Just as you settled into your seat, the double doors leading to the dormitory slid open, breaking the tense silence of the room. The sound drew everyone’s attention. A manager flanked by 16 soldiers marched in and they took their positions in front of the door.

You realized what was coming next. It was time to announce the results of the fourth game: the number of players eliminated, the remaining survivors, and the updated total of the accumulated prize money.

The manager announced, “Congratulations to all of you for making it through the fourth game. Here are the results of the fourth game.”

The dormitory lights dimmed, casting the room into an eerie semi-darkness. The only illumination came from the glowing piggy bank suspended near the ceiling. All eyes were drawn upward as stacks of bills cascaded into the transparent container. The players watched, some with awe, others with blank stares, as the money continued to fill the bank.

When the flow of money stopped, the manager’s voice echoed again, cutting through the silence. “49 players were eliminated in the fourth game. The prize money accumulated up to this point is 43.2 billion won. Since there are 24 players remaining, each person’s share would be 1.8 billion won.”

A ripple of reactions swept through the room. Half of the players erupted into gasps of delight, their voices rising in excitement.

“Wow!” one player exclaimed, their face lighting up as if they could already feel the weight of the cash in their hands.

The jubilation of some players stood in sharp contrast to the shock etched on the faces of others. Gi-hun’s team, in particular, exchanged flabbergasted glances. Jun-hee and the mother were looking at the floor, still in shock about their near-death experience. Gi-hun’s jaw clenched, his gaze flickering between the piggy bank and the delighted players. Dae-ho’s expression was pale and distant.

However, Yong-sik and Jung-bae initially looked somewhat elated to hear the announcement, faint smiles creeping onto their faces. However, one stern glance from the mother to Yong-sik and from Gi-hun to Jung-bae caused both of them to restrain themselves, quickly lowering their smiles as guilt and unease replaced their fleeting excitement.

The manager continued. “You will now take a vote to decide whether to continue the games or not.”

As the announcement hung in the air, a line of circle guards – the workers – entered the room. They set up the familiar voting counter at the front of the dormitory.

The manager added, “The vote will be held in reverse order of your player numbers. Player 456.”

Slowly, all eyes turned to Gi-hun. Whispers rippled through the group as they recognized him not only as the previous winner of these games but also as the one who had instigated the failed uprising against the game management. Some players stared at him with a mixture of awe and resentment, while others seemed to hold him responsible for the chaos and loss they had endured.

Gi-hun stood stoic, his jaw tight as if he was aware of the silent scrutiny bearing down on him. He then moved out of the crowd of players and headed towards the voting counter.

Behind your mask, you frowned in concern. Gi-hun must be blaming himself for almost everything, including the deaths of Young-il and other players. You knew he was kind and selfless, but when he became adamant about something, he could cross into selfishness. It was either that, or he had a heavy hero complex, or a gambling addiction, or he hadn’t yet realized the full impact his actions had on others. Even so, you couldn’t help but think he didn’t deserve the silent judgment radiating from the other players.

Gi-hun reached the voting counter and stopped. He stared at it for what felt like an eternity. The players behind him began exchanging confused glances, whispers rippling through the group. Even you felt a flicker of bafflement behind your mask. Gi-hun, the one who had tirelessly urged everyone to quit the games, the one who had orchestrated the failed revolt against the management, was actually hesitating?

What is he doing? you thought, your pulse quickening. He never hesitated to press X before. Why is he taking his time now?

Gi-hun’s hands hovered over the buttons, but he didn’t move. Then, his gaze slowly lifted. His scowl deepened, and his eyes locked onto one of the CCTVs in the dormitory. The intensity of his glare made your breath hitch. From the control room, one screen now displayed a clear feed of him staring directly into the lens. It wasn’t just a look of defiance; it was a challenge, a silent declaration to the management that he wasn’t finished. It was as if he wanted to show them that his fight wasn’t over – that he still had more to give.

You glanced at the Front Man, who remained as still as a statue in the center of the control room. His attention was fixed on the screen as if he too was assessing Gi-hun’s intent. The tension in the air was suffocating, the room silent except for the faint hum of the monitors.

After what felt like an eternity, Gi-hun lowered his gaze back to the voting counter. His jaw tightened as he raised his hand and pressed the X button. A lighter ping echoed through both the dormitory and the control room, signaling his vote. Without looking at anyone, he turned and walked to the X zone.

The voting process continued. One by one, the players approached the counter to cast their decision. Jung-bae, Dae-ho, Se-mi, player 333, Jun-hee, the mother, Hyun-ju, and Yong-sik all voted for X. You knew they would vote for the right thing. Including Gi-hun, that made a total of nine X votes. It gave you a glimmer of hope that you all could finally leave this place.

But the other players, they voted for O. Among them were the greedy old man with a ten-billion debt (100), his equally greedy underling (226), the late Thanos’ friend (124), and the shaman (044). Their choice was no surprise, but what angered you more was how they whispered and schemed during the process, influencing the undecided voters with hushed conversations and manipulative gestures.

In the end, the results were announced: [X: 11 | O: 13]. The outcome sent a wave of crushing disappointment through you. It had been so close to a tie, so painfully close to everyone finally going back home. To you, disguised as manager 007, the result felt like a punch to the gut.

The 13 players in the O zone erupted into hollers of delight and triumph. Their cheers filled the dormitory, their voices dripping with greed and selfishness. It didn’t matter to them that Jun-hee was pregnant. That fact had become apparent to many since the fourth game, but it didn’t sway their decision. They couldn’t care less about forcing a pregnant woman to stay here longer for the sake of their greed. Behind your mask, you furrowed your eyebrows in indignation.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed a movement. Glancing over, you saw the masked officer turning to face you. His voice, distorted by the mask, rang out. “Manager 007 and 009, continue with your next task.”

Manager 009 rose from their seat without hesitation. You mirrored their movement, rising and following them as they moved toward the back of the center. The two of you positioned yourselves behind the masked officer and the Front Man, standing like a pair of bodyguards.

The Front Man’s gaze remained fixed on the live feeds of the dormitory. Everyone could feel it, including yourself. His commanding presence that demanded respect and fear in equal measure. You stared at him from behind your square mask, your mind drifting back to the conversation you had with 011 during the fourth game.

***

[Flashback begins…]

“What do you mean he will spare me?” you asked, your voice hushed but sharp with confusion. Behind your triangle mask, your eyes widened, trying to process the weight of 011’s words. The two of you were still disguising as one another – you wearing her triangle mask, and 011 now donning your square one.

011 hesitated, a rare pause that betrayed her own uncertainty. She didn’t meet your gaze as she finally spoke. “I’ve worked under him as a pink guard for years. In all that time, I’ve never seen him issue an order like this. Telling the guards not to shoot a specific player. He’s strict, but it’s always been about fairness. He treats guards and players with the same rules. That’s why I think… even if you reveal yourself to him, he might spare you.”

Her words hung in the air, leaving you reeling. You stayed quiet, mulling over what she’d said. The idea of revealing yourself to the Front Man… Could you trust that he’d spare you? And even if he did, at what cost?

“Do you know what he would do to me if he finds me?” you asked, your curiosity laced with unease.

011 answered, “No. I don’t. But I’ve heard whispers among the guards. Rumors that it might have something to do with the VIPs. Not sure if it's true or not.”

You furrowed your eyebrows beneath the mask. “VIPs?”

She hesitated again, the silence stretching just a moment too long. Whether she regretted bringing it up or was unsure herself, you couldn’t tell.

“You could think of them as investors,” she finally said, her tone quieter now. “They fund this operation. They’re the ones who ensure it keeps going. That’s what I know so far. And from what I’ve heard, they watch these games regularly. For their entertainment.”

Your skin prickled with fear, the mere thought sending an icy wave down your spine. One thought sprang to mind almost instantly. You could be handed over to these so-called VIPs. Sold to them, perhaps. The idea made your stomach churn.

Before you could fully process the implications, Gyeong-seok’s voice broke the tense silence.

“They’re watching us?” he asked, his alarm palpable even through the distortion of his triangle mask. “Could it be that one of the VIPs likes her? And that’s why there’s an order not to shoot her?”

His words made your blood run cold. A fresh wave of fear surged through you, twisting in your chest like a vice. Your hands trembled uncontrollably and you promptly hugged them to your chest, trying to steady yourself. The thought of being singled out – not for safety, but for something darker – made your heart race with dread.

“That’s…” you started, your voice faltering. “That can’t be it. Right?”

011 seemed hesitant, her voice quieter than before as she replied, “I’m not sure. If you ask me, I don’t think that’s the case. But it’s best to stay safe and alert.”

Her words did little to calm your nerves. You sat there, mulling over everything she’d said. Fear and apprehension tightened in your chest. The thought of being under constant scrutiny – while you were supposed to guard the Front Man – made your stomach churn, but an even darker fear gnawed at you: what if you were being reserved for one of the VIPs? The possibility sent a chill through your veins. You couldn’t let yourself get caught, not by him or anyone else who might have plans for you beyond this nightmare.

“What should I do then?” you asked, your voice low and uncertain. “I’m going to be his guard soon enough.”

When 011 spoke, her tone was solemn. “Try to adapt as fast as possible. Do not speak unless you’re spoken to. Whatever he tells you to do, just do it. And always be on alert. Watch everything. Listen to everything. He doesn’t tolerate mistakes.”

You nodded, taking in her advice even as the apprehension gnawed at you. This wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about navigating a dangerous, unpredictable situation with a man who held absolute power over everyone here.

“Does he really need guards?” Gyeong-seok asked, his tone curious and innocent, as though the thought had just occurred to him.

011 glanced at him briefly before answering. “It’s customary to have two managers with him wherever he goes. He has a lot of tasks to oversee, and the managers assist with those duties. It’s as much about maintaining order as it is about support.”

Her explanation was straightforward, but it only added to your apprehension. You couldn’t afford to make a single mistake, not when you were walking such a thin line. And above all, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the Front Man’s presence was more than just commanding. It was suffocating, like he could see straight through any disguise you wore.

[Flashback ends…]

***

Back to the present, you and manager 009 waited in silence, standing for a few minutes as the Front Man surveyed the live feeds and ensured every operation was running smoothly. His imposing figure was still, his masked face tilted slightly toward the screens as if scrutinizing every detail with precision.

Then, without warning, he spun around, striding toward the exit and eventually walking past you both. Manager 009 immediately fell into step behind him, and you quickly followed. The two of you flanked and followed the Captain as he descended into the labyrinth of colorful stairs, the vibrancy of the walls contrasting sharply with the dark-coloured control room.

The three of you arrived at the armory, a large, sterile room lined with racks of weapons. Rows of MP5 guns, pistols, and other equipment were neatly arranged. Multiple circle guards were stationed throughout the room, diligently performing tasks such as logging weapon serial numbers, testing firing mechanisms, and cleaning the firearms. Overseeing them was another manager who moved diligently between stations.

“Status report on the firearms,” the Captain commanded, his distorted voice filling the room.

The manager stepped forward and answered, “All weapons are accounted for, Captain. The inventory has been cross-checked, and all MP5s have been resecured. Pistols have been redistributed to guards as per protocol.”

The Captain gave a curt nod and turned to 009. “Ensure the biometric systems have been fully calibrated. Test random samples to verify their functionality.”

“Yes, Captain,” 009 replied, moving toward one of the nearby stations where guards were monitoring the equipment.

You stood quietly, waiting. The Captain’s gaze swept over the room before it landed on you.

“007,” he said finally, “verify the safeties on the pistols. Ensure they’re properly engaged.”

The task was very simple, and you couldn't be more glad. You nodded and moved toward the rack of pistols. You meticulously checked each one, toggling the safeties to confirm they were engaged. It took only a few minutes to complete and then you returned back to stand behind him.

Once 009 finished their task and the armory was taken care of, the Captain led the way through another series of corridors, descending a staircase until you reached a room marked with no identifying signage. The door slid open, revealing a sprawling IT hub filled with rows of computers and massive screens lining the walls. Workers in circle masks sat at the terminals, their fingers flying across keyboards as they edited and managed live feeds from across the facility. One manager was present, walking slowly as they supervised everything.

The Captain strode into the room, his presence commanding immediate attention. “Report.”

The manager straightened up and informed, “All live feeds are edited and being transmitted to the VIPs as scheduled. Editing for clarity and focus is underway. No interruptions have been detected.”

“Good,” the Captain replied. He turned to manager 009. “Check every videos that have been transferred online. Ensure the footage meets the required standards for transmission.”

“Yes, Captain,” 009 said, immediately moving to one of the editing stations.

The Captain’s masked face turned slightly in your direction, his geometrical mask facing you for a fleeting moment. Your breath hitched and you braced yourself inwardly, waiting for any task he would give to you. But instead of speaking, he simply turned away, his focus shifting back to the workers and the room’s activity.

You stood behind him, feeling tiny compared to his tall, strong figure. From where you were, you noticed the sharp lines of his coat and the way his gloved hands rested at his sides. He looked like he was completely in charge of everything, and even though neither of you said a word, it felt like the air between you was charged with some kind of energy. You couldn’t explain it, but it made you feel nervous, like he could see right through you without even speaking.

Your gaze drifted upward, catching the faint reflection of yourself in one of the monitors. Beneath the square mask, your heart pounded, your thoughts racing. Why had he looked at you? Why hadn’t he given you anything to do? Was he testing you?

“009,” the Captain’s voice broke the silence after a few minutes, deep and distorted as always. “Report.”

009 responded immediately, “The edits are nearly complete, Captain. All footage meets the standards for clarity and focus. There are no delays in the transmission to the VIPs.”

The Captain gave a small nod in approval. Before he could say more, his radio crackled briefly. The distorted voice of the masked officer came through. “Captain, there is a commotion among players in the hallway close to the restrooms.”

Your attention snapped to the conversation immediately. You straightened instinctively, your heartbeat picking up speed. The Captain gave no visible reaction, his body language calm and composed as he lifted the radio closer to his masked face. “Report.”

“Several O players started a fight against the X players,” the masked officer reported. “Some of them were player 124, 100, 388, 333, and 222.”

Your eyes widened beneath your mask, your breath catching in your throat. Player 222… Jun-hee. The image of her flashed in your mind. Her small, trembling form, her hands protectively cradling her pregnant belly. Fear surged through you. What is happening? Why is she involved?

The masked officer continued, “Do we intervene, captain? Further losses of players would ruin the next game.”

The Captain said nothing at first, the silence hanging heavy in the room. Then, he turned his masked face directly toward you. The weight of his gaze pinned you in place. Even though you couldn’t see his eyes, you felt as though he was peering straight into your thoughts. You stared back at him, your heart thudding loudly in your ears. You didn’t need him to say it. You already knew what he was about to ask.

“007,” the Captain finally said. “Go.”

You bowed your head respectfully. You spun on your heel and left the room in a calm demeanor. But as soon as you were out of sight, you quickened your pace, practically jogging as you navigated the labyrinth of colorful staircases.

Your heart pounded fiercely against your ribs, every beat a reminder of the urgency of the situation. The bright, almost whimsical colors of the walls felt jarring, out of place against the heavy dread settling over you. Jun-hee… what were they doing to her? Was she hurt? Was she safe? The thought of her, vulnerable and frightened, made your stomach churn. She didn’t deserve this.

As you descended another flight of stairs, two triangle guards appeared from a side corridor. They immediately fell into step behind you. You glanced over your shoulder briefly, your pulse spiking until you recognized the marks on their uniforms.

It was 011 and Gyeong-seok; the latter still disguised as soldiers. It seemed they had caught wind of the commotion. Their familiar presence sent a small wave of relief washing over you, though your anxiety remained. They flanked you without a word. The three of you moved as one, your pace quickening as you closed in on the hallway near the restrooms.

“This way,” 011 said softly, her voice barely audible beneath the hum of the facility. You were grateful for her guidance and you followed. Your focus was razor-sharp now. Whatever was happening, you had to get there. You had to protect Jun-hee and your friends. In this place, survival wasn’t just about making it through the games. It also meant defending yourself against players who had no qualms about killing one another.

The three of you arrived at the source of the commotion, the sound of shouting and scuffling growing louder with each step. The moment your gaze landed on the scene, you froze, your breath catching in your throat. Behind your square mask, your eyes widened in horror.

Player 124, the late Thanos’ friend, was towering over player 333, his fists flying with relentless fury. Each punch landed with a sickening thud, and player 333, sprawled on the floor, tried desperately to shield himself, his arms raised defensively. He couldn’t get up; the assault was unrelenting, leaving him completely at the mercy of his attacker.

Nearby, two more O players were savagely kicking another figure who was curled into a tight fetal position. His arms were wrapped protectively around his head, his knees pulled to his chest. You could clearly see his entire form trembling as if in extreme fear. From your vantage point, you couldn’t see who it was, but the viciousness of the attack made your stomach churn.

Then your eyes darted to Jun-hee, who was on the floor a few feet away. She was crawling, her trembling hands stretched out toward the man being kicked, as though trying to shield him despite her own fear and condition. Before she could reach him, one of the O players broke away from the group and stormed toward her, his face contorted with rage.

“You bitch!” he roared, his voice echoing off the walls. “You should’ve been dead! You should’ve been eliminated, and because of you, that round restarted and all my friends are gone!”

He must be referring to the Open, Dongdaemun game, when Jun-hee, the mother, and three other players were caught in the area of elimination and you restarted the round.

Jun-hee’s flushed face turned upward, tears streaking down her cheeks as she cradled her belly protectively. She froze, wide-eyed, as the man raised his fist, ready to strike.

But then something tugged at his ankle. The man staggered slightly, his focus snapping downward. There, on the floor, was Dae-ho. Blood dripped from his battered face, his nose swollen and bleeding, but his eyes burned with determination. Despite his injuries, despite the beating he’d already endured, he clung to the man’s ankle with all the strength he had left.

“Get away from her!” bellowed Dae-ho, his voice hoarse but unwavering.

The O player sneered, kicking at Dae-ho’s hand to free himself. Then another voice joined in, “You should’ve just stayed down!”

It was player 226. He stood beside player 100, who watched the chaos unfold with greedy and sickening enthusiasm. They were encouraging the Os to continue as they were content to let the others do their dirty work.

Player 226, his sneer widening, stepped forward and raised his leg, ready to drive his shoes into Dae-ho’s already bloodied face. However, you’d had enough.

Reaching for your revolver, you unlatched the safety in one smooth motion. Raising it to the ceiling, you fired a single shot. The deafening crack echoed through the hallway, silencing the chaos in an instant. Every head turned toward you, their expressions a mix of shock and fear as they registered the weapon in your hand.

“That’s enough,” you said, your voice distorted behind the mask but still commanding. The air around you seemed to shift as you stared down the O players who you knew for sure had started this bloody fist fight. 011 and Gyeong-seok were behind you, holding their MP5s at ready. For the first time, you felt... powerful.

Player 124 and the Os who had been beating and kicking player 333 and Dae-ho backed away immediately, retreating toward the wall. Player 333 and Dae-ho, battered and bruised, struggled to their feet. Blood smeared their faces, hands, and uniforms as they limped to stand protectively in front of Jun-hee, who was still trembling near the opposite wall. Her hands were tightly cradling her belly, tears streaking her flushed face.

“Hey!” player 100’s voice rang out, filled with indignation. He jabbed a finger in your direction, his fury evident in the way his eyes widened like saucers unevenly. “Why are you interrupting us?! Aren’t you supposed to just stand aside and let us be?! Why are you stopping us now, of all times?!”

For a moment, the hallway fell silent except for the heavy breathing of the injured players. All eyes were on you, waiting for your response. You felt the weight of their stares. Behind your square mask, your mind raced to formulate an answer that would justify your interference while maintaining the facade of authority.

You stood still for a moment, your thoughts racing behind the mask. You knew that the players weren’t the only ones watching you. Somewhere, the guards in the control room were likely observing through the CCTV too. You had to justify yourself to everyone.

Then again, the Captain had told you to “go”. That must have been a green light to intervene, right? You gripped the revolver in your hand tightly, resolving to follow through with his unspoken directive.

“Unnecessary fights will no longer be tolerated,” you stated, your voice calm but firm. “The total number of players is already critically low for the next game. Any further disruptions will jeopardize the next game to run smoothly.”

“Tolerated?” player 100’s voice rang out, laced with mockery and anger. He stepped forward slightly in defiance. “Since when do you care about what’s tolerated? You guards didn’t care when people were dying during lights out, did you? What changed now?”

011 raised her MP5 slightly, the weapon’s barrel glinting under the harsh lights of the hallway. Her voice cut through the rising tension, calm yet carrying an unmistakable edge. “Listen to the order, 100.”

“Order?” player 100’s voice rose, echoing through the hallway. “Give me a break! You didn’t care about ‘order’ when people were dying left and right during lights out. What’s so different now? Is it because there is a pregnant woman here?”

“The difference is,” you said, still calm, “your fist fight jeopardizes the next game. Further disruptions won’t be tolerated.”

“Jeopardizes the games?” he spat, stepping forward slightly. “What, because one player’s pregnant? Is that it? Are we supposed to pretend like there’s no special treatment here? Because it sure looks like there is.”

Your grip on the revolver tightened slightly, but your tone remained controlled. “The rules apply to everyone equally. Any player, pregnant or not, who participates in the games is subject to the same conditions. Your actions, however, directly endanger the balance of the competition.”

“Don’t make me laugh!” player 100 shouted, gesturing wildly. “We’re all fighting to survive, and now you expect us to play fair? Give me a break. You think you can scare me? You think that gun in your hand gives you power over us?”

Your patience, already stretched thin, finally snapped. Without a word, you strode forward, your shoes striking the floor with deliberate force. The revolver in your right hand glinted faintly. Player 100 faltered, his bluster evaporating as you closed the distance between you and him.

When you were mere inches away, you stopped, your masked face level with his. The air between you crackled with tension, and the other players shrank back, their eyes wide as they watched the confrontation unfold.

“Do you have a problem listening to orders, 100?” you asked, your voice low and cutting. The question hung in the air like a blade.

Player 100 stumbled back a step, his bravado completely gone. His gaze darted to the revolver in your hand, then back to your mask. For a moment, he looked like he might try to retort, but the words never came. Instead, he glared you up and down and muttered something under his breath.

He then turned around and stormed off. Player 226 shot you a stinky side-eye before following player 100. The rest of the O players trailed behind, with player 124 flicking off player 333 as he left.

Once the O players disappeared down the hallway, you turned your attention to player 333, Dae-ho, and Jun-hee. The two men immediately checked on Jun-hee, their concern evident.

“You okay?” Dae-ho asked gently.

Jun-hee nodded but then looked at him with worry. “But you… you're bleeding.”

Dae-ho quickly shook his head, forcing a grin. “I’m fine. This is nothing.”

“Like I said,” player 333 spoke up, his voice firm but calm, “we can’t let you go to the bathroom alone. It’s better to have two men with you at all times. Everyone now knows you’re pregnant.”

“But, Myung-gi…” Jun-hee’s voice softened as she turned her gaze to him. “You’re hurt too.”

So his name is Myung-gi, you thought, filing the information away.

Myung-gi straightened his lips and gave her a small nod, his tone reassuring. “I’m fine. Let’s go back.”

The three of them turned toward you and the other triangle guards, preparing to leave. As they began to walk past you, Jun-hee suddenly winced, her steps faltering slightly as her hand swiftly moved to her belly.

Your hand shot up instinctively, steadying her by placing it lightly on her shoulder. Jun-hee froze momentarily but avoided meeting your gaze, murmuring softly, “Thanks…”

You urged her calmly as your hand subconsciously brushed gently over the top of her head, smoothing her hair back toward her neck, “Go.”

Jun-hee’s reaction was immediate. Her wide eyes snapped to your masked face, her expression filled with surprise, almost disbelief. Her stare lingered, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of confusion. Why was she looking at you like that?

“Jun-hee,” Myung-gi called. “Let’s go.”

Jun-hee hesitated for a moment longer, her gaze lingering on you as though searching for something. But eventually, she turned and followed Dae-ho and Myung-gi. You stood still, watching as they moved further down the hallway, her steps slow and careful. Even as they walked away, Jun-hee’s gaze flickered back to you briefly, again and again.

You and the two triangle guards – 011 and Gyeong-seok – remained where you were until the trio disappeared from view. The silence in the hallway felt heavy, but none of you spoke. Instead, you exchanged quiet glances, a mutual understanding passing between the three of you. There was no room for discussion here. You all knew you were being watched. Somewhere in the labyrinth of colorful corridors, CCTVs were likely trained on you. And through those cameras, the masked officer and the Captain were likely observing every move.

Without a word, the three of you began to walk back the way you came. After a few minutes, 011 and Gyeong-seok peeled off from you in different direction. You didn’t look back as you continued alone.

***

The next thing you knew, two hours had passed. Time seemed to blur as you followed the Captain wherever he went. Manager 009 was always beside you, the two of you sticking close to the boss like shadows.

During this time, the Front Man went from room to room. He gave commands and checked on tasks to make sure everything in this twisted operation was running smoothly. He never raised his voice, but the way he spoke made it clear he expected perfection. Manager 009 got most of the work, being handed one task after another. Each one seemed complicated and time-consuming, but 009 handled them all quickly and without hesitation.

And you? Over those two hours, you only got three tasks. Each one was so simple it almost felt like a joke. You stood guard at a door for five minutes, delivered a report to a nearby circle guard, and checked a number on a screen. None of it took much effort. You finished each task easily, but the simplicity of it all left you confused.

Why was the Front Man treating you differently? Was it because 009 had already proven how capable they were, while you hadn’t yet? Or was there something else going on? The thought kept nagging at you, even as you tried to focus on blending in. You couldn’t decide if you should feel relieved that your tasks were so easy or offended that you weren’t trusted with more responsibility.

It reminded you back when you were tending to your part-time job. Even here, you were still worrying about how you looked in the eyes of your “boss.” Old habits, it seemed, were hard to break.

However, thirty minutes into this, the three of you were ascending towards the control room when the Front Man suddenly halted in his tracks. The abrupt pause in the all-purple hallway made you and 009 stop as well. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, as the Captain slowly turned around to face you directly.

“007,” he said in his deep, distorted voice. “Head to the control room and take the elevator. It will lead you straight to the host's room above. It requires inspection. Check the lighting, furniture placement, and any potential issues. Check every room. Make a mental note of anything that needs attention, and inform the workers to handle it later.”

You blinked behind your mask, caught off guard by the sudden request. Now this was a difficult one. The host’s room? You had never been there but you didn't want to question him for fear of endangering your disguise and even show him that you were incompetent. So you kept your thoughts to yourself, lowering your head.

“Understood, Captain,” you replied.

The Captain stared at you for a moment longer before he turned to manager 009. “Continue with me to the next game's location. Ensure all workers are ready for tomorrow.”

“Yes, Captain,” 009 responded. Then, the two of them went back the way they came from down the hallway. You watched them for a second before turning toward the path that led to the control room.

You walked into the control room and saw managers sitting at their monitors, focused on their screens. You glanced around and noticed an elevator tucked beside the door you had just walked through.

Stepping up to it, you noticed the panel beside the door had only one button – an ‘up’ arrow. You pressed it. The doors slid open right away, revealing an elevator so bright unlike any other setting in this place. The inside was decorated in black and gold, looking fancy and elegant. The walls shimmered under soft lighting, and the floor was polished like a mirror. It felt too luxurious for this facility.

You stepped inside, glancing around quickly. There was only one floor option. You pressed the button, and the doors closed with a quiet hiss. The elevator moved up smoothly and seconds later, a small chime sounded and the doors slid open again.

The sight before you was stunning. The entire area was decorated in black and gold, making it feel grand and important. Directly outside the elevator was a long hallway with black doors on either side. At the end of the hallway, the space opened into a massive living room.

The living room looked like something out of a magazine. A huge television screen covered one wall, reflecting the soft glow of a fancy chandelier hanging above. Beneath it sat a single-seater sofa, placed right in front of the television. A small nightstand stood beside it. Other furniture was placed around the room – a table, a low cupboard with a diorama on top of it. The furniture and decorations were neatly arranged, making the living room look simple yet elegant, with the black and gold colors giving it a fancy and important feel.

You hesitated at the doorway, staring at the overwhelming luxury before you. Everything about it felt strange. You had seen wealth before, but this was different. It wasn’t just expensive. It was personal, like stepping into someone’s private space. Not only that. It felt like someone was watching you, even though you were completely alone.

The sound of the elevator doors beginning to close startled you into action. Without thinking, you quickly stepped forward into the hallway, the doors shutting behind you with a quiet finality.

Walking past the hallways and into the living room, you moved cautiously, inspecting the space. The sofa was perfectly neat, the cushions untouched. The nightstand held nothing above it. Then, the diorama caught your eye. It was a detailed miniature version of what seemed like a group of men playing musical instruments with a lady as a singer. Looking around, you realized there was another cupboard with a wired telephone.

Everything looked pristine, with no obvious technical issues in sight. Still, you wanted to inspect as much as possible per the Captain’s order.

In a way, you felt a small sense of satisfaction. Unlike the simple tasks he had given you before, this one required more effort. It almost felt like a test. It’s as if he was finally trusting you with something more significant. Not only that, but he had allowed you to enter this exclusive, luxurious space. Perhaps, through this task, you could learn more about this place and the way it operated.

You started by thoroughly examining the living room. You checked the lighting and other electronic systems. The television was in perfect condition, and the diorama sat undisturbed. The shelves were dust-free, and every piece of furniture was arranged with precision. It was as if no one had ever disturbed the space.

Satisfied with the state of the living room, you walked back into the hallway. Your gaze landed on the series of black doors lining the corridor.

You hesitated for a moment, debating whether to proceed further. Then, you remembered the Captain’s instructions – Check every room. That was as clear a green light as any.

You stepped up to the first door and pushed it open. The room inside matched the rest of the place, following the same black and gold aesthetic. It appeared to be a study with an expansive wooden desk in the center and several bookshelves lining the walls. Everything was arranged neatly with no signs of disarray. You checked the lighting, the air circulation, and the furniture’s condition before moving on.

The second room was a bathroom, designed with the same black and gold aesthetic. A large, polished black marble sink stretched along one side with gold-trimmed mirrors above it. The walk-in shower featured sleek glass doors and golden fixtures and a luxurious bathtub sat in the corner. It looked so deep and inviting. Like the study, this room was also flawless.

The third room contained what seemed to be a small, private meeting area. A circular table sat in the center, surrounded by four chairs. The walls were adorned with subtle gold accents, and a sleek control panel rested on the far side of the room. Like the others, this space was pristine with no indication of recent use.

Then, as you moved to the next door, you found yourself stepping into... a dressing room? Across from the door stood a mannequin dressed in a sleek black suit, its head adorned with a golden mask resembling an animal. Positioned on a raised platform, it gave the impression of something highly significant. Heavy black curtains flanked the display, adding to the dramatic presentation. To your left, a dressing table with a large mirror reflected the dim lighting of the room.

You glanced around and noticed a door, partially hidden behind the curtain. Curiosity tugged at you as you stepped closer and pushed it open. The moment you crossed the threshold, you stopped short. The lighting in this room was noticeably dimmer. It took you a moment to fully process what you were seeing.

A bedroom.

A wide single bed was covered in black sheets, one pillow neatly propped against the headboard. A wardrobe stood to one side. A nightstand rested beside the bed. On the opposite side, a study desk held a large PC monitor. Several books were arranged precisely on both sides of the desk, accompanied by a lamp, a box of tissues, and a set of writing utensils. The air carried a distinct scent – leather, or perhaps a trace of cologne. In this room, the scent and presence of the Front Man lingered unmistakably.

On the other side of the nightstand was a solid black door. Before stepping through, you decided to check the bedroom thoroughly. You scanned the furniture, electronics, and every small detail, making sure everything looked normal.

Once satisfied, you finally approached the door and opened it. What lay beyond surprised you. A narrow brick hallway stretched to the right, dimly lit by a single flickering bulb. At the end of the hall, a staircase led downward toward another door.

Glancing over your shoulder, you checked for anyone nearby. You felt like you were sneaking around, but technically, you weren’t. The Captain had told you to check every room, and this was no exception, even if it seemed strangely hidden. Like no one was supposed to access it except the boss himself.

Taking a deep breath, you descended the stairs slowly. When you reached the bottom, you hesitated before pushing the door open. The room was completely dark. Your hand searched along the wall until you found a switch. With a quick flick, the lights came on, casting a yellowish glow over the space.

The walls, like the hallway, were entirely made of brick. Rows of shelves lined every side of the room, filled with neatly stacked files, books, and documents. One wall was blocked by a shelf of drawers, each labeled, though the text was too small to read from where you stood.

Careful not to disturb anything, you walked further inside, scanning the shelves and the layout. Everything was perfectly arranged, untouched, as if no one had been here in a long time.

Once you were sure nothing was out of place, you turned back toward the door, ready to leave. But just as you moved, something unusual caught your eye. Sitting on a shelf close to the door was a small black box wrapped in a neatly tied hot pink ribbon. Unlike everything else in the room, this object looked so out of place, so different than other documents here.

You wondered why this box seemed so different from the other documents in the room. Curiosity sparked, you moved toward it and carefully grabbed the box.

Lifting the lid, you found a single framed sheet of paper inside. The heading at the top read, “Round 6.” Below, two neatly organized tables filled the page, and in an instant, you understood what it was. This was a record of winners from this game, dating all the way back to 1988.

Your mind immediately flashed to Young-il. He had told you he was the previous winner of this game in 2015. His name had to be here. Maybe seeing it would bring you some comfort, even if only a little.

You quickly scanned the list, searching for the year 2015. Your eyes landed on the correct row, and you followed it across to the winner’s name.

Except… it wasn’t his name.

“Hwang In-ho?” you murmured, confusion washing over you. That wasn’t Young-il. No. It was supposed to be Oh Young-il.

Your grip on the frame tightened as your mind raced. Who was Hwang In-ho? And why wasn’t Young-il listed as the winner of the game he claimed to have survived?

Wait. You lifted your gaze from the framed paper and stared into space, a sudden coldness running down your spine. Was he lying to you? Was he never a previous winner? But he knew so much about the game.

A thought struck you. Your eyes darted to the shelves filled with records. There had to be complete participant records somewhere in this room. Setting aside the box and framed paper, you rushed toward the rows of meticulously arranged files, scanning them carefully.

Each file was labeled neatly along the spine. After a quick search, your fingers stopped on a section titled “List of Players.” Your heart pounded as you searched for the year 2015. It was easy enough to find since the files were organized chronologically.

You pulled out a thick folder labeled “List of Players 1, 2015” and flipped it open. Page after page detailed the participants, but you quickly realized you had forgotten Hwang In-ho's player number.

Rushing back to the framed paper, your eyes locked onto the number next to his name. 132.

You hurried back to the file, flipping through pages as you repeated the number under your breath. Your fingers trembled as you searched frantically.

Finally, you found it. Player 132.

Your breath hitched as your gaze landed on the ID player photo attached to the upper left corner of the page. Your eyes widened in shock.

It was Young-il. A much younger version, his face softer, carrying a faint, hopeful smile. But then your gaze drifted to the name printed beside it.

Hwang In-ho.

Your pulse pounded in your ears. But… wasn’t his name supposed to be Oh Young-il?

The loud, jarring noise of the door swinging open sent a violent jolt through your body. Your breath caught in your throat as your heart slammed against your ribcage. You had been so completely absorbed in the record that the sudden intrusion felt like a gunshot in the silence.

Your head snapped toward the entrance, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights behind your mask. There, striding purposefully into the room, was the Front Man.

His masked face turned directly toward you, his entire posture exuding an imposing authority. The door shut behind him with an ominous finality, locking you inside with him. The weight of his presence sent a wave of overwhelming fear crashing over you.

You had been caught.

Your hands trembled as you slowly straightened up, the weight of the file slipping from your grasp. It hit the floor with a loud, unceremonious thud.

The Front Man took a step toward you.

Instinct took over. You took a step back.

Another step forward. Another step back. He was closing in, his slow, deliberate pace like a predator closing in on its prey. The fear gripping your chest made your breaths shallow, quick, and sounded deeper and distorted behind the square mask you're wearing. You kept moving backward until your spine met the cold, unyielding brick wall. Your breath hitched.

He did not stop.

His approach remained unhurried, measured, yet filled with intent. The air around you thickened as if the shelves around you were closing in. You felt suffocated. You pressed yourself against the wall, fingers splaying against the rough brick as if searching for a way to melt into it, to disappear entirely.

Then, in his deep, distorted voice, he finally spoke.

“007,” he said, his tone slow and deliberate. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize you?”

A cold chill gripped your heart, squeezing until you thought you might choke on your own fear. He knew.

You swallowed hard but your throat felt dry as sandpaper. Your body refused to move, paralyzed under his scrutiny. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to run but there was nowhere to go. No escape. You were trapped in the narrow space between the shelves and him.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Your mind raced, searching for a way to turn this around, to escape, to do something other than just stand there, vulnerable and completely at his mercy.

Your breath came in rapid, shallow pulls as your eyes darted across the dimly lit room, searching for any escape. The shelves boxed you in, towering with records of past games, past players, past victims. There was nowhere to go.

The Front Man were closing in on you, his presence suffocating you.

“You should’ve known you’d lose in this hide and seek game,” he said, his tone eerily calm yet heavy with unspoken threats.

Your fingers twitched at your sides. If you got caught now, what would happen? Would he spare you? 011 had said he would. But at what cost?

Your mind spiraled into terrifying possibilities. If you were spared, would he hand you over to the VIPs? Would you be nothing more than a prize, a twisted plaything for their amusement? The thought sent ice through your veins.

No. You had fought too hard. You had killed to protect yourself, to protect the people you loved, and to protect your body as a woman. You had survived this long and you weren’t about to surrender now. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to move, to fight.

Your breaths turned sharp, loud and unnatural through the mask. The Front Man took another step, his slow, measured pace sending a fresh wave of panic through you.

Then you remembered.

Your pistol.

The standard issue sidearm every square guard carried rested in the pocket of your jumpsuit’s bottom. Your grip tightened.

You braced yourself. The Front Man was getting closer, his figure looming over you, casting an inescapable shadow.

“You’ve been running long enough among these trashes,” he said, voice thick with certainty, with finality.

That was your moment.

You lunged for your pistol, fingers wrapping around the grip, yanking it free as you unlatched the safety in one swift motion. The cold weight of the gun grounded you. Without hesitation, you lifted it and fired.

But the Front Man moved with inhuman speed, ducking just before the bullet could meet its mark. His arm shot out to the side. You had no time to register what he was doing. Instinct took over, and you fired again.

Your shot met resistance, but not flesh. He had grabbed a thick file from a nearby shelf and raised it as a shield. The bullet struck the stack of papers, piercing but not stopping him.

Then he charged.

Like a predator finally closing in, his movements were terrifyingly fast, like a beast that had played with its prey long enough. He lunged forward, his dark form swallowing the space between you in an instant.

Your pulse spiked, adrenaline crashing through you. The walls of records blurred as your only thought became survival.

You had to move fast.

However, he caught you first. His gloved hand clamped around your wrist, twisting it just enough to force the revolver from your grasp. The weapon clattered to the floor. You gasped, breath hitching at the sudden loss of control – and at something else. His movement was eerily familiar.

Before you could dwell on it, he shoved you back. Your head was about to strike the brick wall and you instinctively shut your eyes tight. But instead of harsh impact, you felt a firm yet controlled buffer. His other hand had moved to cradle the back of your head, protecting your head against the wall with his gloved palm.

Your pupils dilated as the realization sank in, but there was no time to process. The Front Man was right there, his geometrical mask so close to yours that you could feel the heat of his breath through the distorted air of your own mask. His other hand wrapped around your throat. Not tight enough to choke, but enough to remind you that you were completely at his mercy.

Your legs were tangled. One of yours had slipped between his, and one of his was between yours, locking you both into place. The space between your bodies had nearly vanished, and the sound of rapid breathing filled the archive room. It belonged to yours and his, mingling together in the stillness.

A charged silence stretched between you. The tension was suffocating. Your chest rose and fell against his as adrenaline within you remained.

“You have allies,” his deep voice rumbled, low and unwavering, “among my guards.”

Before you could react, his gloved fingers slipped from your neck to the edge of your jumpsuit’s hoodie. A chilling realization gripped you. He was about to pull it down. To take off your mask. To expose you.

No.

Clenching your teeth behind the mask, you scrambled for a plan, for anything to break free. And then you felt it. His thigh, firm and brushing against yours.

With a sharp inhale, you moved. You slammed your knee against his, knocking his leg away, creating just enough space between your tangled bodies. Without hesitation, you raised your foot and kicked him squarely in the abdomen.

A grunt escaped him as he staggered back. You took the brief moment of respite to move. You turned sharply, gripping the nearest shelf, and with a raw, breathless yell, you shoved every file within reach off the shelves.

Papers and heavy binders cascaded toward him, crashing against his body, momentarily throwing him off guard. You didn’t wait to see how he recovered.

Heart pounding, you lunged past him, sprinting toward the door. Your fingers gripped the handle, yanking it open as you bolted up the stairs. Just as you reached the top, a heavy set of footsteps thundered behind you, fast and relentless, closing the distance far too quickly.

You didn’t dare to look behind you. Bursting through the door, you sprinted into the bedroom, but before you could make it halfway across the room, a force yanked your jumpsuit from behind. Your momentum was ripped away in an instant, fabric tearing as you were violently pulled backward and shoved onto the bed.

You landed sideways on the bed with a deep, distorted yelp behind your mask. Panic surged through you and you immediately scrambled to push yourself up but something heavy pressed down against you, shoving you back onto the mattress.

The Front Man.

He loomed over you, his weight pressing into you, keeping you pinned. You thrashed, twisting and bucking wildly beneath him, muffled grunts of struggle escaping your lips. His grip found your wrists and forced them down against the sheets.

Your legs were your last weapon. You kicked out violently, aiming for anything. His stomach, his ribs, even his groin. But he was faster as if he had anticipated your moves. In one swift motion, he maneuvered between your flailing limbs, pressing his legs firmly between yours to keep you restrained.

Even as he overpowered you, you refused to submit. You twisted, arched, struggled with everything you had, but he was stronger – far stronger. Unlike other men who had tried to take advantage of you, he wasn’t sloppy, he wasn’t careless. He was calculated and precise.

He held you there, unmoving like a boulder above you, as you thrashed beneath him. You fought with every last ounce of strength in your body but he didn’t budge. His sheer force pinned you down, absorbing each desperate attempt to break free.

Your breath came in sharp gasps, muscles screaming in exhaustion. Soon, your struggles slowed, jerky and uncoordinated, until they faded into mere trembling beneath his weight. Every attempt at escape had drained you, leaving your limbs weak and sluggish.

The only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths mixing with his heavy ones. Your chest rose and fell erratically, each inhale loud and desperate. His grip on your wrists didn’t waver. You glared up at the geometrical mask hovering inches above your face.

You felt the heat radiating between your bodies and the closeness. He remained still. The weight of his presence pressed into you, making your exhaustion feel even more overwhelming.

Your heart pounded wildly against your ribs, the realization settling in. You were trapped completely. He finally caught you.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. But in that heavy silence, an unspoken intensity hung between you.

He moved your wrists above your head, securing them in a firm grip with just his right hand. Your weakened struggle did nothing to deter him. His free hand reached for your hoodie, and this time, you didn’t resist. Your chest still heaved from exhaustion, breath escaping in rapid, uneven pulls as he pushed the fabric back.

Once your hoodie was down, his fingers slid to the back of your mask. With practiced ease, he unclasped it and pulled it away from your face. The mask left your skin, and he tossed it aside, letting it clatter somewhere in the distance.

Cool air kissed your damp skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat that had built beneath the jumpsuit. Sweat glistened along your face and neck, strands of hair clinging stubbornly to your skin. The sudden exposure made you hyper-aware of how raw and open you felt, your breath finally unfiltered, free in the space between you.

You glared up at him, your eyes burning with defiance despite your exhaustion. But he only stared. His mask tilted so slightly as if studying you. At this moment, his silence felt even more suffocating than any words he could have spoken.

Then, to your shock, he moved his left hand to the side of your face. His gloved fingers brushed against your damp skin as he gently tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. Your breath caught in your throat. This action – so soft, so familiar – sent a jolt through you. Only one person had ever done this before. But why was he doing it?

Slowly, he withdrew his hand and moved it to his own hoodie. Your glare faltered when he pulled it down out of the blue. You could hardly believe it when he reached for the clasp at the back of his mask, unfastening it with ease. Your breath hitched, heart hammering against your ribs, as he slowly lifted it away.

And then, you saw him.

Your entire body locked in place, your breath caught in your throat. The world around you shrank, all sense of logic dissolving as your mind struggled to grasp what you were seeing.

It was him.

Young-il.

The man you thought had died. The man who had protected you, shielded you, fought alongside you. The man you had—

Your chest tightened, an overwhelming rush of emotions surging through you all at once. Relief, disbelief, betrayal, longing. The edges of your vision blurred and all you could do was stare, wide-eyed.

He looked just the same, but his hair was now slicked back neatly with oil, giving him an air of maturity and refinement that made him seem almost like a different man.

Your entire body trembled, overwhelmed with a torrent of emotions too vast to contain. It's like every emotion crashed into you all at once, leaving you breathless. You had mourned Young-il. You had thought he was gone forever, lost in the bloodshed of the uprising. Yet here he was, standing before you, alive. Breathing. Real.

But with that relief came something heavier, something darker.

Your chest tightened as realization set in. He had been behind that mask all along, watching, orchestrating, controlling the very nightmare you had been trying to survive. The games, the deaths, the suffering. Had all of it been at his command? Your mind raced, replaying every interaction you had with him back then, every moment of trust, every fleeting instance where you had allowed yourself to care. Had it all been a lie?

Was he ever truly one of us?

Your throat felt dry, your breath uneven. Why had he disguised himself as a player? Was it all some kind of elaborate test? A way to manipulate those around him? Or had there been something else – something deeper? Had he once been a victim of this place, just as you were? Or had he been in control from the very beginning?

Young-il stayed still above you, staring at you, his expression raw. The subtle tremble in his face betrayed the inner turmoil he tried so desperately to contain. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to speak, to offer some kind of explanation, but no words came.

The silence stretched between you, thick with tension, with questions left unspoken, with truths too painful to acknowledge.

His eyes, always so guarded, flickered with something you couldn’t quite decipher. Regret? Pain? Guilt? You don’t know anymore.

Your breathing was still uneven, chest rising and falling with the weight of everything crashing down at once.

“You…” Your voice cracked, barely above a whisper. “You were behind it all?”

His expression faltered, the conflict within him breaking through for just a moment before he steadied himself. But you had seen it. The hesitation, the uncertainty, the battle he was fighting within himself.

And it terrified you.

Because despite everything, despite the betrayal, despite the horror of what he had done… He still looked like the man you had fallen for.

He leaned down, his face inching closer to yours. You realized in that moment that you hadn’t moved at all. His grip on your wrists was weak yet you remained still, your body slack. The moment you saw his face, it was as if Young-il had turned off your resistance. After all, before all of this, he was the one who made you feel safe.

His warm breath mingled with yours. His eyes flickered between yours and your lips, searching, waiting. Your chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, your mind racing. Should you resist? Should you let him?

The tension between you both thickened as he halted just an inch away. He hesitated, waiting for the slightest sign of resistance from you. When none came, he finally moved. Tilting his head slightly, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against yours. You kept your eyes open, staring ahead, seeing his face so close to you. His lips were firm, yet soft, pressing against yours with calm restraint.

You should resist. He orchestrated this entire operation. He had bloods on his hands. He betrayed you.

Yet, memories flooded your mind. The way he had taken care of you, how he protected you time and time again. How he shielded you from danger, ensured you were safe, treated you like someone precious. Was it real? Or had it all been part of a larger deception?

But you wanted to believe. Wanted to believe that when he said you were his purpose, when he told you that you were worth protecting, that he wanted to take care of you more than as friends – you wanted to believe it was all real.

You were lost in the trance of the moment until he deepened the kiss, his lips pressing more insistently against yours. You could feel it. He could barely restrain himself the longer he kissed you. A quiet sound escaped you as he pulled you further into it. And you found yourself liking it. Your lips parted shyly and he took the invitation, his tongue delving into your mouth with increasing hunger.

His grip on your wrists disappeared, his hands moving to unzip your jumpsuit instead. Yet, you kept your hands where they were, fingers brushing against the sheets above your head, as your eyes fluttered closed, surrendering to the moment and to him.

NEXT : Chapter 17.1

PREV : Chapter 15

Story Masterlist

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! It motivates me a lot! What do you think about you guarding the Front Man and you remembered a flashback when 011 told you that you might be spared because of the VIPs? Do you think that's the case? And what about the brawl between Myung-gi, Dae-ho (while protecting Jun-hee) against Nam-gyu (124) and the O players? Do you think scene like this will appear in Season 3? Also I want to know your thoughts on you finally confronted player 100 in that scene. And why did Jun-hee kept glancing at you afterward? Next, why do you think the Front Man suddenly gave you the task to inspect the host's room? And now, the moment you all have been waiting for. What do you think about the Front Man confronting you in the archive room? Then you two had a brief scuffle - and he did not even try to harm you - and then you were pinned to his bed. What do you think about the scene of you two on his bed, finally seeing one another's face? Do you like this direction I take to reveal his face? I've been thinking a lot about this moment and could finally write this down. What do you think about the kiss?

Besides that, I want to know. How many of you are underage? You might want to avoid the next chapter. Now I wonder how to separate the NSFW scene from the next chapter so underage readers couldn't read it.

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

#hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #hwang in ho fanfic #in ho #the front man #player 001 #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #front man x reader #front man x you

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maple-seed · 1 month ago

Text

Thrown - Chapter 49: This Could Be Home

Summary: Loki runs an errand and considers where he is.

Word Count: 1,571

Author's Notes: Thank you everyone for your patience and encouragement. This hiatus went on so much longer than I intended. The final four chapters have been written, there's still some editing to be done but I'm feeling pretty good about sticking to the post schedule on the masterlist. We're riding this train to the solstice, let's goooo.

Thrown Masterlist Loki Masterlist

Thor released a grunt of frustration as he placed his phone on the table which was currently covered in documents, forms, blueprints, and schedules. "There's a problem at the hall. They need me there immediately." He sighed and swiped his hands down his face. "But I need to get these papers to Brynjar's office. I should have already been on my way." Valkyrie shrugged. "I can bring them." Thor shook his head. "No, I need you at the harbor to receive Arnison's shipment. After that incident with Rutger he said he will only deal with you ." "He's just saying that because he has the hots for me." "I suspected. Nevertheless, I swore you would be there." "I'll take your papers into town." Loki offered as he sipped his tea. Thor and Valkyrie both stopped to stare. "You would do that?" Thor looked a little stunned. Loki scoffed. "This may surprise you but I do know the way." "Yes, but-" Thor paused, glanced at Valkyrie, who shrugged, then he held a folder out to Loki. "It would be a great help." Rather than take the folder, Loki twisted his hand in the air and it vanished in a flash of green light. "Happy to do it." He finished his tea and headed out the door, unaware of the looks being exchanged between Thor and Valkyrie.

It was, by all accounts, a gorgeous day. Warm, certainly, but that was to be expected with Midsummer just around the corner. The sun was bearing down but a stiff breeze lessened its effect. The walk through the streets of New Asgard was pleasant, and he greeted a passer-by here and there. The climate was all the more lovely out on the road, despite the higher-than-usual traffic, likely due to the Midsummer preparations. He appreciated the summer. The world was so very green. Winter made it easy to forget. When your studio came into view, he was pleased to see the door was propped open. There was time enough for a quick diversion, he decided.

You looked up from your wheel and smiled. "Hey." Your brow furrowed and you checked the time. "An early visit." He assured. "I'm running an errand in town." "Oh, well it's nice to see you." You stood and stepped toward him. Loki held up a finger to stop your approach, eyeing the clay covering your hands. "I'm on official business, it's best you keep your muddy hands to yourself." He immediately recognized his mistake by the glint in your eyes. "Darling, I mean it-" You were now approaching urgently, hands-first. "It's important that I appear professional-" Your grin only broadened as you closed in. "This is completely uncalled for-"

The clay on your hands vanished just before they clutched his lapels and pulled him in for a kiss. Despite your insolence, Loki leaned in to savor it. His hands were on your waist by the time you broke away.

"You are a menace." He mumbled with affection. "Takes one to know one." You snipped, then noticed your now-clean hands with disappointment. He simply raised his brows in smug triumph. You huffed and changed the subject. "Are you really on official business?" "I am. Thor would be doing it himself but matters arose that required his attention." "Oh? Will he still make it for dinner?" Loki waved dismissively. "I'm sure it will all be resolved well before then." "And you're not scared of talking to Brynjar, now?" "I was never scared to speak to the man. It's the crushing bureaucracy of his meetings with Thor that I simply... prefer to avoid." You shrugged. "Seemed scared to me." He glared. "Oh, I will teach you fear." His fingers briefly dug into your ribs and you quickly surrendered under a ticklish laugh.

He stayed only a few more minutes, discussing what you were working on today and the plans you had for dinner. You asked him to pick up a couple items while he was in town, which he assured you he was happy to do. He bid you farewell with another quick kiss before stepping out your door and onto the road once more.

In town he stopped on the street to say hello to a vendor from the market. When Mrs. Hansen approached on the sidewalk he quickly excused himself, citing his official business at city hall. Loki felt a slight pang of guilt at the flash of panic in his companion's eyes, but self-preservation came first. At the city hall, Brynjar received him in his usual jolly fashion and the papers were handed off to the appropriate parties.

Brynjar was absolutely bubbling with excitement about the hall and the upcoming festivities. Loki lingered for a while and they spoke at length about the finishing touches being put on the hall itself, followed by what the midsummer ball would entail. Brynjar had questions about etiquette and customs, whether the clothes he planned to wear would be appropriate, what sort of food will be on offer. He was very occupied with making certain that this first Asgardian festival went well in general, and that he in particular did not make a fool of himself or cause any offense. Loki answered all his questions, and found he did not mind doing so. Eventually Brynjar apologized for holding him so long, and ushered him out the door.

Loki made the stops necessary to pick up the items you requested. When he entered the grocery store he briefly reminisced on the first time you had brought him there. The corner of his mouth twitched upward at the memory. Once your needed supplies were secured, Loki was once again on the street and began on his way. That memory of your trip to the grocery tugged at him again. At the time he could barely tolerate your presence, and traveling to the human town was absolutely miserable. The town, now, was filled with fond memories rather than tension and shame. Largely due to you, he admitted.

As if taunting his comfort, Loki noticed that up ahead, on the sidewalk, two young women stood at the corner. They were unfamiliar to him. One looked at him with a flash of recognition and moved to draw the attention of the other. Loki felt his chest tighten. In other circumstances, in another time, he might have crossed the street to avoid them. Today, he decided, he would keep to his route. He didn't look at them directly, instead kept his gaze forward and stepped with confidence. Just as he was about to pass, one of them stepped into his path.

"Hi, sorry, I know you're probably busy. Can we get a quick picture?" Loki balked, and quickly glanced over his shoulder, just to be sure his brother hadn't followed him. "A picture?" "Yeah." She held up her phone as explanation. "If you have a second?" "I-... Certainly."

The girl grinned and pulled her friend over. The both of them stood in front of Loki, much closer than he expected, and smiled brightly at the screen held out at arm's length. Once they had the photos they desired, Loki tried his best to recall what Thor did in these situations. Somehow, asking "who's your favorite avenger?" did not seem appropriate. He managed to make polite small talk for a few minutes then excused himself, at which point the girls thanked him and went on their way.

He walked for several minutes in sort of stupor. Had that truly just happened? Had it been what it seemed? Perhaps they were mocking him. He shook his head. No, the interaction had felt genuine.

The trappings of town fell away and he found himself on the open road. The sun was setting, and as he appreciated the landscape he mulled over the unexpected meeting. And it had been very unexpected. When he first came here he never would have expected humans to ever view him favorably. And now he had been here only a little over a year and, by all appearances, he had just encountered fans. The fact that opinions seemed to have shifted so quickly was startling, to say the least. Certainly, by this point in time, he was no longer terribly surprised that he seemed to have turned the opinions of those he worked with closely. The locals had come to know him and he had made himself trustworthy. Nor was he foolish enough to believe that there weren't still those who would banish him from this world, if it were in their power. He had, after all, met several of those sort also. Still, the fact that a pair of strangers seemed to view him in a positive light? It was heartening. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it. It certainly warranted further thought.

Soon he was strolling along your low stone wall. The familiar shapes of Breidr and Goat stood in the distance. He slowed a moment to brush his fingers against the trunk of your yew tree. It was the marker he had long since come to think of as "halfway home." He stepped onto your porch and stopped to relish the warm glow of your windows. He could hear friendly conversation inside, and the sound of your laughter rose up and drifted to him. Halfway home.

As he turned the knob to step inside a new feeling rose in his chest.

Perhaps he was home.

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tinytownn · 13 days ago

Text

the weight on my shoulders –

pt. v - wife number five pt.2 series masterlist

[post-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader]

word count: 8.5k

summary: joel gets caught in trouble, forcing him to flee the boston qz. a few days into his trip, he takes refuge in an abandoned shed where he finds you–scared, starving, and struggling to survive. despite his better judgement, he takes you with him on his journey.

content: violence and descriptions of death, pretty much no actual tlou lore (except the infected, joel's outbreak day events, and jackson), mentions of religion and cults??, i mention child death for like four sentences idk, tw youre from indiana sorryy, age gap (27 and 49), slow burn??, no use of y/n

a/n: this story keeps running away from me i swearrr like every chapter ends up differently than how i drafted it, but i hope you guys enjoyyyy (i think i like this version better :)) there was originally going to be a lot more cult involved stuff this chapter but i ditched it for cows lol, i feel like i've made u guys go thru enough trauma

September 18th 2025 -

“If you’re up for somethin’ a little risky.”

Joel’s words replayed in your mind as you sat on the bed, huddled in the darkness. The quilt beneath you stayed twisted beneath your fingers, the iron bedframe creaking as you nervously tapped your foot.

Something in the air was seeping into your skin, telling you that these two couldn’t be trusted. If you hadn’t been watching their every move, you wouldn’t have been so inclined to eat the dinner they prepared. Joel hadn’t been that convinced though, his stomach audibly growling now and his untouched dinner plate long discarded into the trash.

The subtle noises of discomfort were the only signal to each other that you were even there. You would gently rock the headboard, swaying to ease your anxiety until Joel would let out a soft grunt in annoyance. You could hear his stomach churning and the way he would shuffle or fake a cough in hopes you didn’t hear.

There was definitely a lantern somewhere in the room, but the light wouldn’t tell you anything you couldn’t already feel. The room had been tense since the moment you walked in. Hand splayed across your back, Joel ushered you in with some newfound urgency. You could feel his fingers tremble slightly through your dress and his anxiety began to seep into you.

“We wait here until they go to bed,” he had whispered.

Although you were in the room now, his head was still on a swivel and you could hear his clothes rustling as he looked around. You nodded along, unsure if he could even see you through the darkness. Either way, he continued.

“When I went downstairs with Samuel,” his voice was even lower now, like just saying their name would attract their attention. “There was a keypad that locked most of their supplies behind a gate. Pretty sure I can find the keys and some gas cans.”

Dipping to one side, you felt Joel push himself off the mattress. His footsteps echoed softly in the room, the soles of his boots heavy against the hardwood. Each step and each moment of silence filled you with even more anxiety. Was he still trying to figure out the plan?

“How do we get the code?”

Although your voice was barely above a whisper, Joel stopped dead in his tracks at the hint of your voice. You couldn’t see his face and even if you could, you were sure it wasn’t one you wanted to see.

Usually Joel oozed with a seamless confidence, one that was just effortless in nature. He was a strong man, gruff, the type of person people didn’t mess with. And if they did? He made sure they regretted it.

You didn’t know what he was like before the outbreak–probably never would–but whatever secrets Joel Miller buried so far down, turned him into a man ready for conflict, bloodshed, and violence. Whatever came his way.

Now, he stood in front of you, thankful to be shielded by the dark. He knew you could probably feel it in the way he moved, hear it in his tone, but he couldn’t stand the thought of looking this weak in front of you. He was always good at hiding how he truly felt, no matter how tense things got.

So what was so different now?

He had foolishly let his guard down. Like everything he had instilled within himself had gone out the door the second Samuel started his smooth talk. Something about the way the man spoke so casually, as if nothing had ever happened, Joel didn’t even notice that his gun had gone missing–at least not at first. One moment he was helping with the generator, begrudgingly following the stranger he couldn’t quite get a grasp on, and then he was happily chatting about his brother.

Reality had only struck him when his eyes met yours, that piercing and unforgiving stare. It was only then that he realized how swept away he had been, that he had forgotten everything he had told you and that silent promise as you two split up. It was only then, when he shoved his hands into his pockets that he realized how light they suddenly were. It was only then that he patted down his empty pockets, his earlier suspicions coming to life, and a wave of nausea and defenselessness swallowing him whole.

It had been so long since Joel had a proper conversation with another man. One with meaning and no underlying favors. So when the whole facade of that friendly conversation came to light, Joel had felt like a fool for even believing him for a second.

He didn’t realize it then, but over the course of dinner while Joel did nothing but berate himself for his mistakes, he had realized the effect you had on him. That hope you carried that he had endlessly scolded you for, whether he knew it or not, began to slowly seep into his way of life–an unfamiliar optimism clouding his view. He saw that you were more than just dead weight slowing him down–a poor decision made in a lapse of clarity–but rather a glimmer of hope he hadn’t seen for decades.

That toothy grin you’d give him even after hours of arguing, the way you told him to keep the bag of candy as if that was the most obvious thing in the world, and how every time you would pull something from the backpack that same bag was balanced on your legs so it didn’t get scuffed. He had never told you the full meaning behind the candy, that it was actually Sarah’s favorite, but you still kept the bag as clean as when he found it–not even a tear in the plastic.

Despite all that, he had done nothing but push you away, but something in his gut kept him tethered to you. An invisible string ravelling around the coils of time until it ran out of thread, tying you two at the hip. Months of being so close had definitely taken its toll, arguments and petty bickering almost a daily occurrence, but none of that would stop how you looked out for each other.

Underneath that string, tied so tight around your wrists the flesh tore wide open for each other to see, there lay a promise–a type of promise only created in the bonds formed within this wasteland of a world. It wasn’t something spoken about or written down in some sort of contract, but rather something hidden in small glances and sighs. The way that even now, within the darkness you could both read each other's motions, each slight sound a signal to an entire language only you two could understand.

That’s why, when those words left your lips, as simple as they may have been, something in Joel’s heart crushed a little bit.

For the first time since you had met, you were lacking confidence in him.

He could hear it in the way your voice shook, that slight tremble in your words and the discomfort that hung in the air. How normally you’d be anxious, fiddling with the hem of your clothes, desperately trying to cling to his words. Now, you sat rigid, almost as if his lack of words took over your entire brain, ceasing any motor output.

Feet planted in place, almost as if quicksand was pulling him under, Joel stood frozen–contemplative. “The code is the easy part,” he huffed out a sigh, jamming his hands into his jean pockets. “I saw it over his shoulder when we went to the basement. What’s gonna be a problem is flippin’ the right switch to power the damn thing.”

Uncertain, you leaned forward on your palms, the bed creaking beneath your weight.

“That breaker box ain’t got any of the switches labeled so it’s just goin’ to be a guessin’ game. I’ve worked around plenty of these to know there’s some sort of order to ‘em. He flipped the switch for the kitchen on the top right, so I can work from there…” He paused for a moment, like once he said these last words things would be set in stone. “If…if I flip the wrong switch, I need you to keep them distracted.”

With the risky part of Joel’s plan now splayed out in front of you, you couldn’t help the way you shuffled uncomfortably in your seat. It’s not like you had ever needed to use a breaker box before, but it wasn’t like you had never seen one. You knew the mass amount of switches on one of those things, let alone a building this big.

Although you knew it was useless, you looked towards where you could sense Joel was standing, hoping for some sort of comfort–grounding–within his presence. But as usual, he was a wall. An impenetrable force, especially when it came to you, void of anything other and a carnal need to hunt and protect. Sure, he gave you those glimpses of nostalgic wonder, something softer deep within that icy gaze.

But none of that was there now.

He stood there just as still as you. You could hear it from the silence in the room. No nervous shuffling of fabric, no creaky floors under pacing feet, and no scratching of hair through anxious fingers. Just the absence of noise simmering deep into every corner of the room, itching at your skin, deep within, tugging at your vocal chords.

“Distracted?” you squeaked.

“If they stay in their room, it should be fine.” You could hear him shift his weight, the floor boards creaking beneath him. For a split second, you were unsure if he was breaking or widening the distance, and you think he was unsure himself. “If I flip the wrong switch, or they hear me downstairs, you get their attention any way you can…Do whatever you have to. You understand?”

His words were stern again, an ounce of that confidence regained in his tone. Then, a sliver of the moonlight cast on his face through the window, and your perception of him in that moment shattered.

His lips, cracked and dry, were drawn into a sullen pout and trembling ever so slightly. Head dipped low, his shoulders were hunched over in a reclusive, almost regretful stance. You hadn’t seen this look on him since that day in the bodega, that prized bag of Swedish Fish clutched in his hands. His eyes reflected this distant longing, dull and bleak, like he was impending a fate he was dreadfully succumbing to.

The look took you aback–confused you. Since the moment you stepped into this town, that bubbling anxiety had only grown and grown into a full blown panic that you had to hide beneath the layers of this dress–its pristine fabric and untattered edges a mocking reminder of your situation. Still, while the plan had its risks, you had the upper hand of strength and strategy. Confusion racked your brain, that solemn, lost of hope look on Joel’s face not adding up, until…

“Do you have the knife?”

You quickly got on your feet, nodding your head instinctively although he couldn’t see.

“Yeah it’s right…” Your heart dropped. Slithering your hand into your boot, sinking your fingers into your sock, you were only met with a damp washcloth–the sliver of soap you had saved for Joel still safely packed away.

Replaying your memories, you tried to retrace your steps, figure out where you could have possibly left your only weapon. Joel had pressed it into your palm while bandaging you earlier between hushed warnings and stern whispers. You had clipped it to your waistband, still attached and folded on the bathroom counter.

So focused on wrapping up the remainder of your soap, you had forgotten to take it with you.

“Fuck, it’s in the bathroom. I’ll go get it-”

“Don’t bother,” he interrupted. “It’s already gone. Looks like they did some plannin’ before we even thought about it.”

You shook your head, stepping closer to Joel, almost face to face. “ What do you mean? Don’t you have your gun? My bow?”

Standing so close, you felt his arm brush yours as he shuffled uneasily. “Don’t have it.”

You opened your mouth to question him, ask how he could have lost track of them, but the sounds of distant chatter and creaking floorboards echoed down the hallway. Joel reached out, grabbing your wrist painfully tight, sucking in a quick breath. He could probably feel your heartbeat thrumming, both of you held painfully still, not even moving to breathe.

Then, the soft click of a door, its heavy groan humming through the walls.

Step one of the plan had begun and there was no time for questions–only action.

“Are we doing this?” you finally asked when Joel’s fingers eased up, your skin pulsing where he was once holding.

He was already walking towards the door, taking slow and deliberate steps so as to not make any noise. “Do we have any choice?”

You didn’t answer–not like he gave you any time to–and he slipped through the doorway. Shutting your eyes, you held your breath once again, trying to listen for Joel’s footsteps. It was subtle, but you could hear the creak of that grand, white door and the way it hinges squeaked open.

Not having seen the basement, you didn’t know how long all of this would take, but you knew sitting in this room waiting for something to happen would only make you restless. Slow, careful steps carried you to the door, slipping through the crack and into the moonlit hallway.

The small window at the end gave way to some light making the room not as intimidating as before. You could see a couple doors down another cracked door, the warm glow of a lantern spilling across the floorboards and painting the walls.

Assuming they were still awake, you decided to make your way to the bathroom, hoping Joel's suspicions were wrong. Tiptoeing onto the tile, the bucket you had used lay untouched in the corner, the water foggy and soapy. The pile of things you had left neatly folded on the counter though, were nowhere to be seen, only a stray sock misplaced on the ground.

“Fuck…” you whispered, a shot of anxiety like a bullet to the chest.

Still cautious, you peered down the hallways, the door still cracked, pouring light along the baseboards. Breath held, like the air had a tightening grip on your throat, kept the room silent and only when you slipped through the doorway, that cool checkered tile underneath your feet, did you exhale.

There was a window above the sink and two on the opposite wall, the room not as dark as the bathroom–moonlight spilled in from the two windows, the light bleeding onto your skin, exposing you to anyone who entered the room, but you didn’t care–there was a small ounce of comfort in that moonlight. A wave of detachment washed over you, ridding you of your senses, anxieties, fears–the reason you were even standing in this room completely beyond you–oblivious to your own intentions.

Then, a soft humming resonated through the floorboards, something so soft, so quiet that typically you wouldn’t have heard it. That rhythmic vibration sparked some sort of signal back to your brain, a chill running up your spine, and fear took its grip again.

Rushing to the counter where you had helped cook just hours before, you could have sworn the knife block was next to the stove–Liz had handed you one to help cut vegetables from that very spot. You squeezed your eyes shut, as if this was some sort of a lapse in your vision, that if you opened your eyes it would reappear, but it never did. No matter how many times you reached to pinch your arm, you were still standing in that kitchen, still in that stupid dress, and still defenseless.

If they had predicted your moves this far, how long would it take before they caught onto Joel?

What if they already knew?

Fear churned waves through your stomach, a fiery heat creeping up your neck, and your hands clammy–you felt entirely nauseous. Without your bow or even a hunting knife, what were you supposed to do if you had to distract Samuel and Liz?

With shaking hands, you rummaged through the drawers–some wooden ladles and spoons, an entire drawer dedicated to junk and old tea packets, and mostly just empty moldy drawers–not even bothering to close them, the handles one good tug away from falling off. The cutlery was limited, but taken care of, all polished silver delicately placed and organized in their trays–you grabbed the only butter knife.

Time couldn’t be wasted. Rushing back into the hallway, the first floorboard let out a groaning creak–a subtle reminder that things were still real and you weren’t just floating in some sort of dreamlike state. Carefully creeping down, just as you had before, you could see the bedroom door with that light still warmly glowing.

You cursed every part of your body for being so loud–your heartbeat thrumming, breaths coming out in deep huffs, and those echoing footsteps the adrenaline couldn’t help but slam to the ground with each step. You were stupid for even getting this close so unprotected and you felt stupid for even letting yourself get this unprotected–only a butter knife clutched tightly in your fist to save you.

“Everythin’ will be fine.” That familiar voice rang through the doorway, smoothed over like honey–something sinister catching in a crack in his voice at the end. “You just make sure that man eats breakfast. Even without his gun I’d like him knocked out ‘fore I kill ‘im–he ain’t goin’ down without a fight.”

“I don't think she’s goin’ to want to come back to Utah…not after somethin’ like that.” Liz’s voice was more firm now, less submissive than before. “You really think she won’t suspect anythin’?”

“Well, it’s too late to turn back now. We’ve been here for three months, Liz. If we don’t come back with another wife soon, Graves ain’t gonna be happy with me.”

“Who cares about Graves? Ever since his father died he hasn’t been actin’ right…and you know it. He’s sendin’ us out here to kill people–and what he’s doing with these ‘wives’? This is the fifth one, Samuel. This isn’t what they started the community for, he’s taken it all too far. We can just take the truck and ru-”

“That’s enough, Elizabeth.” If you couldn’t hear every breath, every slight movement and footstep, you would have thought Samuel was right next to you with how loud he spoke–cold and icy, freezing the blood in your veins. “We can’t just leave the community–our family–after everything they’ve done for us. Do you remember how they found us? Do you need me to remind you?”

You could hear quick, heavy footsteps and Liz suddenly gasped. “I can throw you outside with those things if you think you can make it out there by yourself. Is that what you want?”

Before you could even think or back away, the door was being pried open, the warm light turning into a blinding spotlight, and you stood there awaiting your fate like a deer in headlights.

“Samuel, please! No, no, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean–”

Tears were streaming down her face, pleads choked out between her sobs. Samuel had her arm in a tight grip, a bruise probably forming under his hold. This lovers quarrel, domestic dispute, or whatever the hell you had walked in on suddenly froze in time.

Like a switch flipped, Samuel’s eyes turned dark, his shoulders slumping down, like he no longer had the weight of the facade on his shoulders. He let go of his wife and she stumbled back into the doorframe, a sob escaping her lips as she lunged back towards her husband.

Fear held you in its deadly grip, fingernails slashing at your skin, digging deep and pinning your feet to where you stood. Thoughts raced through your mind, millions a second, screaming a cacophony of noise so loud that you couldn’t even think.

Then, almost as if time had skipped, jumping forward before you could fully process your next actions, you were on the ground, knees on either side of Samuel’s waist, covered in a pool of blood. You sat frozen, hands shakily gripped to the butter knife that sat plunged into the center of his neck, blood spurting all over your face and dress.

His hands desperately tore at your skin, clawing beneath the surface, breaking the skin at your wrists. He tried to reach your neck, wriggle around and push you off of him, but he was too weak. You could see Liz in your peripheral, she was on the ground, her mouth opened like she was screaming, but all you could hear was a deafening ringing as time replayed excruciatingly slow: Samuel charging at you, his heavy hands on your shoulders as he pushed you to the ground, the body numbing pain that seared through you as your body hit the floor, and how, almost like it had a mind of its own, your hand plunged the knife anywhere you could hit.

It was only now, that your vision cleared and that weightless feeling of flowing adrenaline had fled–gravity taking its hold on you and the knife sinking so deep your knuckles met skin–you could see the sporadic slashes all throughout his body.

Samuel had made the mistake of rendering you completely defenseless, with only your hands to protect you. His rage left him blind and careless–what would soon be a fatal mistake.

Though your mind felt blank, numb, you could still hear the familiar voice that guided you through the noise:

“Swing fast and don’t stop.”

Joel had muttered those words to you one night while going through what was supposed to be a ‘shortcut’ through a thick and dense forest. The night had crept faster than expected and as the groaning of infected grew near, he handed you his knife, gun clasped tightly in his hand with a wavering brow.

You were terrified that night, you were still injured, the bandaging on your leg soaked with puss and sweat. As uncomfortable and in pain as you were, all you wanted to do was sleep, not thinking you had the strength to run even if your life depended on it, but Joel looked right through you and said those words so confidently as if he knew that even in the tensest of moments you would be able to do exactly as he asked.

You never did end up using the knife that night–or at all. Joel whispered for you to stay back while he surveyed the scene and you anxiously picked at your fingers behind a tree until he came back, fresh blood staining his shirt and a careless nod.

“Let’s go. It’s all clear.”

And it was always like that.

Despite never needing to use your weapon or get into any real conflict, Joel was always hinting and preparing you for it. Each target practice, every hushed warning, and all those ‘what if’ plans were getting you ready for this very moment.

He saw that innocence the very first moment he saw you, that determination to live despite the terrified look in your eyes. He knew–he hoped that if he repeated himself enough, despite how tough or unpleasant he had to be, that his voice would carry your body to fight even when your mind resisted.

And your mind was resisting.

That fateful moment, that fatal swing, the way Liz cried and screamed for her husband, reaching in the air towards him, but cowered in fear in the doorway as something outside of you, outside of your control, slashed her husband in the very room they slept.

Your eyes were glued shut, unable to open if you even tried, like your mind was censoring a sight it knew you didn’t want to see. Maybe it was the promise you made to Joel, a completion of the plan that had driven you to strike, maybe it was his words that subconsciously trained you to be a merciless killer just like him–a skill you had seen him effortlessly perfect and shamelessly rely on–or maybe it was all you in blind anger and fear that acted in taking this man's life.

Even though this was the world you lived in now–one where killing was frequent and necessary, death always looming around each corner–it wasn’t the one you grew up in.

It was a world that went still when your classmate in the first grade, Daniel Rodruiguez, went missing and was found dead the next morning. A world that honored Daniel each year over the school’s loudspeakers and with a memorial in town that was always covered with photos, toys, and flowers. You had seen glimpses of that world sometimes–graves with the remnants of flowers and some sort of makeshift headstone or cross–it always made you think of Daniel and sometimes the twisted thought that you were glad he was dead and didn’t have to be here in this awful new world, body covered in blood like a scene from Carrie. Sometimes you were even a little envious of Daniel.

Especially in times like this.

Because Daniel didn’t have to make choices like the one coming at you, full speed like you were standing on railroad tracks and the train was inches away from your face. In your shock, the faded memory of Daniel and of that night in the woods played like one of those movies of your life that people say they see before they die–and honestly, it felt like you were the one dying.

Liz had collected herself–or completely shattered in front of you–and grabbed Joel’s gun that was hidden in the nightstand. Her eyes were wide, puffy, and red, her hands shaking around the handle, weighed down uncomfortably as if she had never held a gun before–she probably never had–your actions being the fuse to her lapse in character.

“What have you done?” she shrieked, gun aimed directly at you.

You looked up at her, mind blank. Because what had you done? Sure, it was self defense and that conversation you overheard couldn’t have been any clearer on their intentions, but the guilt that hung heavy in your chest told you otherwise. It told you that you were a killer, a ruthless being that murdered a husband in front of his wife without a second's thought.

There was a clomping sound down the hallway, that grand door making its familiar echoing creak, and for a second you forgot Joel was actually here and not just a voice guiding you in your mind. His footsteps were unusually rushed as he made his way down the hall, abandoning his usual stealthy technique in a frenzy.

He was downstairs, successfully through the gate and rummaging around for keys, picking any lock he could find when he heard a thumping. His shoulders tensed, but he didn’t stop his search–with two gas cans and a duffle bag of emergency supplies, he was so close to being out of here. You would be able to handle it.

It was uncomfortably quiet for a moment and he almost decided once again to abandon ship and rush upstairs, but the thudding continued again and for some reason that comforted him–to know that there was some sort of fight happening, one that he was confident you could win or at least scuffle through for the time being.

Then there was a scream.

A scream so loud that every instinct in Joel’s body was telling him to turn and run, that nothing but trouble could be around that noise and attracted to that noise. But he knew that you were also up there and possibly the one screaming.

Joel had automatically assumed that it was Liz screaming, but as he rushed up the stairs, he realized he had never heard a true, body chilling scream from you. He had vowed to keep you safe and that he did. So could have things gone so wrong the one time he left you?

His feet weren’t taking him upstairs fast enough and his mind raced with guilt as he thought through the night. He had never found his gun downstairs where he expected it to be and your weapon being gone as well showed that these two were more prepared than he had expected. He felt sick, rage bubbling in his stomach for even thinking this plan was a good idea, for even putting you at risk like this.

A blinding light illuminated his destination at the end of the hallway, a looming lump of something hidden in the blurs of his vision laying out into the hall. Using the wall to guide him, his calloused fingers gripped the doorframe, knuckles turning white as he gasped at the scene.

That lump of something was Samuel’s legs and the blood that pooled around it and the rest of his limp body. On top of him, legs straddled around his waist, was you, hair soaked and matted, shielding his view of your face. He could see you were shaking, trembling like a leaf in the wind, hunched over his body with your arms outstretched over his face. He fought to keep himself grounded, using everything within him not to pull you from the scene, drive off in the truck, and forget about the whole thing, but the barrel of a gun–his gun–was staring him dead in the eyes.

Liz stood only a few feet away, hands not even on the trigger, the lack of confidence in her stance giving way to her distress.

Joel warily lifted his hands to his head, palms splayed wide for her to see. “Woah there, I ain’t got a weapon, okay? But I’m sure you already know that.”

She didn’t waver, whether it was from some sort of confidence, anger, or pure shock, she stood her ground, gun still pointed right between his eyes.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen!” She screamed to no one in particular, her words crying loud enough to maybe reach the God she muttered to under her breath while clutching that cross necklace–the same one tangled around your fingers, coated with blood on Samuel’s neck. “Samuel was supposed to leave with me and none of this would have happened! I never wanted to leave Utah, I knew nothing good would come out of this! What have you done, what have you done, whathaveyoudone?”

Her whole body was trembling, the sounds of her shifting her weight audible against the floorboards, and the gun unsteadily swayed in front of Joel’s face. She kept blabbering on, her screams growing incoherent, her eyes glazing over with an unbridled fury. You had watched the scene unfold from the very moment Joel walked in, but something–maybe that subconscious Joel you always seemed to have crawling in the back of your mind–told you to keep still and wait. You weren’t quite sure what you were waiting for, your mind was still mostly blank while simultaneously being busier than a highway at rush hour, but for a split second, something flicked in Liz’s mind, like a moment of realization shared between the both of you, and you found what you were waiting for.

You hopped to your feet, the body that had just felt so heavy you couldn’t even lift your head, now weightless as you sprung towards her. Bloodied butter knife still clutched in your hands, you charged towards her, rushing to beat the clock, as her fingers scrambled for the trigger. Joel, almost as if he could read your every thought, ducked down the second you moved, and a bullet went flying through the wall behind him.

Before she could fire off another shot, you had her tackled to the ground, more clear minded than the last time. At first, you took this levelheadedness as an advantage, but as soon as that gun slipped from her hands, clacking against the hardwood as you pushed it away, her face turned back to that helpless, distress gaze.

The knife you once held so confidently felt slightly slack between your fingers, and for just a moment you both looked at each other human-to-human in a moment of pure survival. Stripped down to nothing but the situation in front of you–the story of how you got here, who this woman was, who you even were all void and irrelevant in your mind in this moment–only pure guilt and fear hung in the air between you two now, sloshing together in one big jumble of mixed emotions and decisions.

Knife shakily held to her throat, just where it met her husband’s moments ago, blood dripped down to meet her necklace, pooling in the hollow of her neck. The movement didn’t come as swiftly to you as they did earlier, the jarring dullness of the knife making you sick as you barely applied pressure.

Before you could even continue, there was a thick hand on the back of your neck, pulling you backwards and off of Liz. In the scurry, Joel had grabbed his gun that you had slid out into the hall, now back in its rightful place–confidently gripped between Joel’s fingers, steadily aimed with precision.

His eyes–and gun–were focused on the woman on the floor, for a second you thought he was going to shoot her, and for a moment, he thought the same. You couldn’t decide if you wanted him to or not, but eventually after a long moment of collectively held breaths, he sighed and lowered his gun without a word. His eyes glazed over for a second, like his mind was replaying some distant memory, all three of you somewhere far off in your minds.

Then, he draped an arm over your shoulders, heavy with the weight of the room. He ushered you out into the hallway, stepping over Liz and shielding you from peering back at the sight. You leaned into his chest and were internally amused when he shifted his shoulders, blocking your view of the doorway like you would want to see that again, like it wasn’t already burned into your memory and playing on loop.

The descent downstairs was silent, not even the house daring to creak as you two walked into the basement. Joel kept his gun in the hand that was draped over your shoulder, the other grabbing a duffel bag and slinging it over his arm so he could carry the two gas canisters. Everything was set up on a table, so he could grab it without letting go of you–his silent way of reassuring you.

A light buzzed above, flickering from time to time, filling the silence that hung between you two. It wasn’t necessarily an uncomfortable or awkward silence, no lingering tension needing to be filled, but rather a mutual understanding that the events of today were ones to be unspoken.

Eventually, Joel found the keys to the truck hanging on a small hook in the garage, the light even dimmer than in the basement. The truck was old and dusty, once a bright shade of red that caved to time and was now a sun faded orange tinted with rust. The silver handles were chipped and cracked, barely hanging on as Joel hauled the door open and lifted you inside, it wasn’t a necessarily tall truck, but with the way you leaned against him–the weight of your thoughts and body too much to bear–he figured you could use the support.

When he slid into the driver’s seat after piling items into the back, he clicked the keys into the ignition, the engine roaring to life. It had been years since you had heard or seen a functioning vehicle that wasn’t chasing after to kill you and you had forgotten how comforting the low hum of the engine was, the gravel crackling beneath the tires.

It took some effort, but the garage door creaked and hauled itself into a partially open position, the sound attracting loads of infected to the area. Typically you would have been terrified at the sight of that many infected, but it was all soon behind you as Joel pressed the gas, leaving the town in a cloud of dust.

Tilting your head to the side mirror, there was still a small view of the old building–those pillars standing proud and unassuming of the horrors inside. The thin road ahead of you merged off onto a bumpy exit, one lined by trees and unattended signs that had vines creeping along the posts and grime coating the edges, leading to a more open highway that Joel had to weave through abandoned cars and random debris along the four lanes that led to the city.

The truck ran smoothly, the excessively rumbly engine to be expected with a car this old and it was good noise to accompany the silence of the out of commission radio. The both of you drove for a while, mostly in silence other than basic comments about your surroundings.

“Look, there’s some horses.” The comment had surprised you at first, but as Joel slowed down the truck, there were a group of horses running around, playing amongst each other in the overgrown roads beneath the bridge you drove on.

There was one horse, more distant than the rest, that sat beneath one of the trees that lined the road–a large oak tree whose branches hung over the powerlines and tangled between them–finding comfort in the shade it was resting, watching the rest of its group frolic about, not worrying about joining–knowing this wouldn’t be the last time they would all get to do this.

You envied that horse.

Shaking that feeling from deep within your bones–that feeling of existential dread–you turned to Joel, his eyes waiting on yours while the truck stilled on the road. He let the moment linger, your eyes on his, his eyes on yours, while the clomping of hooves and whinnying and neighing of horses in delight rang through the windows you had just now realized were open.

Your breath stilled, for in that moment–for the first time since you stepped in that alleyway in that godforsaken town–you felt some sort of comfort, a feeling that everything was going to be okay.

When your eyes finally flickered away, his unyielding gaze too much to bear, he shifted back into drive and slowly took off again. He didn’t want to break whatever serenity that moment had caused, so he kept silent, not wanting to ruin the moment with his lack of way with words.

“Cows,” you had mumbled out next under your breath when you had caught a glimpse of a group of cows grazing in a field a little while later, the words had just slipped out, the only thing that made its way into your mind besides the couple, and that light down the hallway, and that stupid dress, and that godawful look on Liz’s face that just wouldn’t leave your mind.

Once again, the truck slowed to a halt, shifting into park as you admired the view. This time, you were merging onto an exit, some town you didn’t know the name of, but didn’t question how Joel knew just where to go, the means of your destination still uncomfortably vague. The roads were surrounded by a grass patch and some foliage, a group of spotted cows stood and lay alongside–one just a few feet from the truck.

There was some rummaging on Joel’s side of the car, but you didn’t care to look over your shoulder, the weight of the night unbearably heavy. The sunrise was rolling in, the peak of the morning coming to a start, and the early morning birds began to chirp their peaceful melody.

Given the view, you should have felt at ease, some sort of peace, but the blood dried to every inch of your skin, itching, peeling, flaking, was not only uncomfortable, but a constant reminder of what you were running from in this truck. You felt like you hadn’t moved in ages, like the very thought of how to move was even too much for your body and so it had been permanently cemented to this seat, like you had been there forever and knew nothing but.

Noises of opening doors and rummaging through boxes blurred in the background, not even knowing if Joel was trying to talk to you, get you go somewhere–like you’d be much help anyway–you just focused on the cows and the yellows and blues and oranges that all melded together to create the sunrise.

“C’mon, turn over here.”

His voice shocked you, but your body sat rigid, like it was aware of his presence before your mind. You weren’t sure when he had opened the door, or if he really did–maybe this was all some sort of daydream and he was still in the driver’s seat chugging along. You felt numb, nothing felt real, and that figure that might be Real Joel kept talking to you, but you couldn’t hear him anymore–his voice a distant echo.

He must have noticed that absent look on your face, the glaze over your eyes, because he gave up any attempt at words, knowing he wasn't getting through to you. Instead, he placed a warm hand on your thigh, centering you, grounding you, and bringing you back to reality from whatever far off place you had been in.

The guilt and horror was eating you alive from the inside out, nipping away at each nerve, each fiber of your being until you sat there, a lifeless shell. It was brief, that quick electric shock that shot through your body and tingled in his absence, a feeling you hadn’t felt for a long time, one that brought you back to a time before all of this. He didn’t give you much time to think though, with a damp cloth in hand, he began (not so gently) scrubbing at your face.

One hand was placed firmly on the back of your head, his finger entangled with your hair as he supported your head. You leaned into his palm, putting most of the work on him, but he didn’t seem to mind, just kept that same rhythmic pace as he washed the blood from your skin. He worked quickly, not aiming for perfection, but his eyes diligently scanned your face, ears, neck, trying to get as much off as possible.

The warmth from his hand radiated through your body, that tingling sensation coming back each time he adjusted his grip. When he got to your ears, he clamped his fingers down harder, applying some more pressure as he grabbed you to tilt your head. His fingers, brushing the underside of your jaw surprised you and with a small huff of air you slightly jumped back.

He didn’t stop scrubbing, his eyes still focused on the side of your head. “You tell me if I’m hurtin’ you, okay?"

You hummed in response and kept your gaze low, more towards Joel’s shoes, so he couldn’t see the light tinge of pink on your cheeks. You didn’t like how you felt under his touch, the comfort it brought you before turning uncomfortable, making you squirm in your seat. It was like he was staring right through you without having to even look in your eyes and with each scrub of the cloth he was peeling back the layers of your skin until you sat beneath him, raw and real.

He had seen you at your lowest, hunched over a man, blood pooled along your skin and matting your hair, the breath taken from your lungs with deep heaving breaths, and not even the slightest look of remorse in your eyes. Sure, the guilt was eating you alive now, but in that moment you jumped without thinking, only to try and do it again–the conflict of your morals and survival instincts waging war in your mind.

When the blood was mostly gone from your skin, only a reddish hue staining some crevices, the dried flakes still under your nails and clinging to your hair, you finally felt clean again. The dress you were wearing was completely dried now and there was so much blood on it that it seemed as if the dress was always that color, always that deepened brown, until you looked at the back and saw remnants of that emerald green peeking through.

Joel must have noticed you looking down at it because without skipping a beat he said, “I got some clothes for you in the back.” He paused for a moment, maybe hoping you would say something–give him some sort of approval. “I can drive somewhere better for you to change, but I thought you’d like to get out of that dress.”

You had never heard Joel talk so much at once, let alone fumble for words, but here he was, in front of you grasping at every word like if he said the wrong one it’d spit bullets through your skin. You felt bad, you truly did, the look on his face was something unreadable–a mix between guilt, regret, and grievance as if he had lost something or someone back in that house alongside Liz–his eyes screamed for a response, something to tell him you were alright, but your body physically couldn’t muster another word.

“Y’know you did the right thing,” he whispered, eyes shifting between somewhere on your face and the dashboard behind you. “Listen I…I don’t know what happened back there, but we had a plan and you went through with it. All I’m tryin’ to say is that if I were in your place I would have done the same thing…probably worse things.”

That last part came out so hushed that if you weren’t inches from his face, you wouldn’t have heard it. His muscles tensed and the arm that rested above you, leaning on the doorway, slapped the top of the truck with a loud bang. Backing away with a nod, you thought he was just going to round the truck and continue down the road, but instead, he warily outstretched his hand towards you.

Confused, you tilted your head, but gently placed your hand in his, at least giving him the comfort of your company rather than your words. His much larger hand clasped yours gently, like you would shatter if he held any harder, and he led you towards one of the cows that lingered alongside the road.

With a loud huff through his nose, the cow seemed apprehensive at your presence, but despite your hesitation, Joel pulled you closer.

“He ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he chuckled softly, moving his hand further up to encase your wrist, gently tugging your hand towards the cow’s nose. “They like bein’ scratched on their heads where they can’t reach.”

When your palm met the soft fur, your fingers instantly curled around his snout, scratching his nose as he nuzzled into your hand. The cow closed his eyes contently as your fingertips grazed along his fur, soon bringing both your hands up to cup his face. When you were done petting him, your hands now coated in oils and fur–a much more pleasant feeling compared to the blood–he let out another loud huff, this time followed by a moo as if he was saying “Thank you!”

The corners of your mouth twitched until they fully curled into a full smile, your hands eagerly going to pet the cow again.

“You ever pet a cow before?” Joel’s voice sounded hesitant to be asking a question, not wanting to make you feel compelled to speak.

Without thinking though, you shook your head. “You’d think being from Indiana that I’d have more run-ins with ‘em, but I lived more in the city.”

Surprised you had answered beyond a nod, Joel cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets as he racked his brain for what to say next. He didn’t know why he had felt so pressed to speak, but something in the back of his mind kept telling him that this was his fault, the way you had broken into a million pieces right before him, and he was going to put you back together.

He wondered for a moment why you hadn’t mentioned you lived so close, and that conversation with Samuel earlier had him convinced you had ties to Missouri, but he knew better than to dig up the past–especially at a time like this. So, he stuck to what he knew, to keep to the present and what was currently keeping you more grounded than he knew how to get you.

“Had lotsa buddies with farms back in the day, they had some really beautiful animals. Knew a guy with one of ‘em big ol’ long-haired cows, she was real pretty.”

Joel had his hand trailing along the back of the cow, focusing intently on her while he dug back deep to that memory. You kept your eyes on him, picturing the animal alongside him, weaving your fingers deeper into the cow's coat to try and imagine such long fur.

It was then that you realized how grounded you were in the present, both your body and mind working for one cause while you actually focused on something currently happening instead of your mind buzzing back and forth through different events of the night.

The sun was fully over the horizon now, sun spilling onto Joel’s face as he faced your direction, looking at the field. The morning light cast something softer across Joel’s face, maybe it was that early breeze or the peaceful twittering of birds that made him look so relaxed–his shoulders finally not held in that tensed hold, the wrinkles on his face slight and natural instead of being so creased and forced by his worried brow, and the corners of his lips twitched into that same carefree grin, but this time he didn’t wipe it away or try to hide it. The sight was a pleasant one and it made you want to imitate it as if just replicating his posture would make you feel the same comfort he displayed.

You didn’t know what in the field had him so enraptured–maybe a couple of cows playing, some birds flying high in the sky, or just the picturesque sunrise–so turning around to see a plain grassy field with the sun too bright to see much of anything, you turned back in confusion. It was only then that you realized Joel hadn’t been looking back out at the field, but rather at you, finding comfort in the ease you both had in this moment–able to push back the events from that house for just a moment and relish in the present.

“Thank you,” you mumbled for nothing in particular.

You felt grateful for him in that moment, each electrifying touch, hushed word, and shared laugh brought you back to a comfort that was hard to find in this world. Joel didn’t question your words, only humming in response as he flicked his eyes away and back towards the truck, a silent question of if you were ready to go back.

a special thanks to my taglist ♡ @anoverwhelmingdin @lowrisemiller @iamawkwardandshy @lanadelray1989 @worlds-we-write @princess76179 (message me to be added or removed)

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #tlou fic

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shiorihyugawrites · 8 months ago

Text

The Devil's Bride - Completed

Aurora Jaeger, Eren's long-lost childhood friend, was taken from him when they were children. After years of suffering under Marleyan control, Aurora is reunited with Eren while he’s undercover in Marley, igniting a bond neither of them expected. Despite her gentle nature, Aurora breaks her vow of pacifism to save Eren’s life, solidifying their deep connection. Secretly married before the Raid on Liberio, Aurora is swept into Eren's world of chaos and destruction. As the Scouts learn of her existence, tensions rise on the airship home. Mikasa’s heart shatters, and Levi demands answers. And Eren will stop at nothing to protect the only light left in his dark world—his bride, Aurora.

In this journey of love, loyalty, and war, Aurora must reconcile her innocent heart with the brutal reality of the man she loves, while Eren faces the truth of what he’s become. (Eren x OC)

Moodboard

What Aurora Looks Like

Sequel | The Devil In Your Eyes

Table Of Contents:

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 |

14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 |

24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65

Masterlist | Patreon

Note: I'm four chapters ahead on Patreon :)

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kingsmoot · 4 months ago

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🔥

Honestly I’ve always been confused on Roose’s problem (among the many others he has) on why he doesn’t remarry and have actual true born heirs.

Obviously Domeric is killed by Ramsay and he’s like hm that will happen again, but he should just marry some woman and have as many children as possible, surely Ramsay can’t kill then all, espically if he just hides them away.

This is only controversial because whenever I talk to people about this like they’re like are you fucking forgetteting about the serial killer in the back garden but just KILL him if you have more sons it’s not that hard Big Goosey!

ooooooooough i'm so happy to talk about this, and i'm so sorry it's taken me so long to respond to you. i just wanted to be able to sit down with this ask and get nice and carried away.

you are right that roose COULD remarry and just try for as many kids as possible. and if wife number four dies in childbirth or from pregnancy complications well let's just line up wife number five and try again. he could walder frey it and play a simple numbers game. surely rams can't kill ALL of them as babies. maybe we'll hide a few. send them off to foster. maybe rams will finally get murdered in one of those almost-happy-accidents that keep happening to him but somehow letting him fail upwards instead of dropping dead. what if everything worked out for a change!

but even though roose is a self-serving pragmatist, this isn't something he would do. i do not think roose will ever have another child after ramsay. he tells theon that walda has a "fertile feel to her" and that if she pops out sons the way she pops in tarts the dreadfort will soon be overrun with the fruit of their loins. but i think he's just being.... glib. especially because he dismisses this fantasy as soon as he shares it.

Lady Walda is a Frey, and she has a fertile feel to her. I have become oddly fond of my fat little wife. The two before her never made a sound in bed, but this one squeals and shudders. I find that quite endearing. If she pops out sons the way she pops in tarts, the Dreadfort will soon be overrun with Boltons. Ramsay will kill them all, of course. That's for the best. I will not live long enough to see new sons to manhood, and boy lords are the bane of any House. Walda will grieve to see them die, though."

adwd, chapter 32, reek iii

i'll back up a bit, here, to make my point.

the thing that makes roose bolton such a terrifying villain is not his leeching, his voice so soft other men strain to hear it, his ageless face or his queer, cold, pale eyes. it is the fact that he does not see other people as worthwhile. he simply does not believe in their personhood.

This is a cold man, Catelyn realized, not for the first time.

asos; chapter 49, catelyn vi

to me, the roose moment that makes my blood run cold is actually the above excerpt from reek iii where he describes himself as "oddly fond of his fat little wife". this passage gets memed on a lot. so much so that i feel like people take the whole thing as a joke that it's easy to dismiss. but i really disagree. roose's description of walda isn't funny to me. it isn't awkward. it's chilling.

this is not the way you talk about your living human wife. this is the kind of distant, impersonal affection you would use to describe a neighbor's dog. not your own dog, who you know well, but your neighbor's, who you only see from time to time. this is how roose bolton talks about a woman he likes. a woman he is fond of and intimate with and married to. and she's less than a pet to him.

there are lots more examples of roose's cold calloused solipsism in this chapter. for another:

"This miller's marriage had been performed without my leave or knowledge. The man had cheated me. So I had him hanged, and claimed my rights beneath the tree where he was swaying. If truth be told, the wench was hardly worth the rope. The fox escaped as well, and on our way back to the Dreadfort my favorite courser came up lame, so all in all it was a dismal day. "A year later this same wench had the impudence to turn up at the Dreadfort with a squalling, red-faced monster that she claimed was my own get. I should've had the mother whipped and thrown her child down a well … but the babe did have my eyes. She told me that when her dead husband's brother saw those eyes, he beat her bloody and drove her from the mill. That annoyed me, so I gave her the mill and had the brother's tongue cut out, to make certain he did not go running to Winterfell with tales that might disturb Lord Rickard. Each year I sent the woman some piglets and chickens and a bag of stars, on the understanding that she was never to tell the boy who had fathered him. A peaceful land, a quiet people, that has always been my rule."

adwd; chapter 32, reek iii

besides the abject horror of roose running down a random woman he spotted on a river bank with a gang of armed men to hold her down and rape her under her husband's corpse, the thing that really makes his treatment of ramsay's mother frightening to me is how casually he pays for her upkeep for the next couple decades.

i find it almost impossible to compare roose and the unnamed miller's wife of weeping waters socially and economically. she lives on the dreadfort's lands and he is her lord. the kind of money and resources that roose can toss around on an afternoon's diversion of fox hunting is more money and resources than this woman could have ever hoped to see if she had lived a dozen lifetimes. and when she comes to him beaten and scorned with his rape baby brandished in her arms, he maims her brother in law and gifts her her dead husband's mill and a generous annual allowance. in one casual motion he grants her more than she ever could have hoped to have. and he could have done that from the beginning. there was nothing stopping roose from making a gift of the mill to her after he raped her and left her bleeding on the river bank. besides, of course, the fact that it would never occur to him to do so. not until he got annoyed. before then, he hadn't thought of her at all.

but in addition to reek iii giving us a glimpse at roose bolton's pre-canon, casual, wanton, cruelty, it also gives us a glimpse into his own self perception. he says:

to ramsay:

"You are mistaken. It is not good. No tales were ever told of me. Do you think I would be sitting here if it were otherwise? Your amusements are your own, I will not chide you on that count, but you must be more discreet. A peaceful land, a quiet people. That has always been my rule. Make it yours." "Is this why you left Lady Dustin and your fat pig wife? So you could come down here and tell me to be quiet?"

and again to theon:

A peaceful land, a quiet people, that has always been my rule." "A fine rule, m'lord."

roose's criticism of ramsay is not the fact that he is a serial killing serial rapist. roose is both of those things. roose's criticism of ramsay is the fact that he's gouche. he's bruttish and rude and was not raised in a noble household to act a lord. he's classless as well as lower class.

roose's greatest criticism of ramsay is that he makes him look bad.

but, and this is the point i've been ramping up to make, i think that roose is actually ashamed of ramsay and what ramsay says about him. i think roose, like tywin, sees his child as evidence of his own corruption.

don't worry i have pullquotes.

"They're only leeches. My lord." "My squire could take a lesson from you, it would seem. Frequent leechings are the secret of a long life. A man must purge himself of bad blood. You will do, I think. For so long as I remain at Harrenhal, Nan, you shall be my cupbearer, and serve me at table and in chambers." This time she knew better than to say that she'd sooner work in the stables. "Yes, your lord. I mean, my lord."

acok; chapter 47; arya ix

"Yes," Roose Bolton said. "His blood is tainted, that cannot be denied. Yet he is a good fighter, as cunning as he is fearless. When the ironmen cut down Ser Rodrik, and Leobald Tallhart soon after, it fell to Ramsay to lead the battle, and he did. He swears that he shall not sheathe his sword so long as a single Greyjoy remains in the north. Perhaps such service might atone in some small measure for whatever crimes his bastard blood has led him to commit." He shrugged. "Or not. When the war is done, His Grace must weigh and judge. By then I hope to have a trueborn son by Lady Walda."

asos; chapter 49, catelyn vi

"Tell him … tell him to be afraid?" Reek felt ill at the very thought of it. "M'lord, I … if I did that, he'd …" "I know." Lord Bolton sighed. "His blood is bad. He needs to be leeched. The leeches suck away the bad blood, all the rage and pain. No man can think so full of anger. Ramsay, though … his tainted blood would poison even leeches, I fear." "He is your only son."

adwd; chapter 32, reek iii (sidenote i can't help but hear a note of pain in theon's voice, here. i don't think he's feelings empathy or sympathy for ramsay, here, but he does know what it's like to be dismissed and discounted by a lord father who has no other sons to choose from, and hearing how roose talks about ramsay threatens to remind him of a feeling he had before he learned his name.)

i have a really long post in which i pull these same quotes where i talk about the parallel of how robert talks about joff to how roose talks about ramsay. and while i'm talking about joffrey there, i did make the point that roose's phrasing about ramsay's bad blood that not even the leeches can drain away leaves us with the obvious question of whose blood it is that's in ramsay. and if we know whose blood it is that's in rams, then we can look at roose's frequent and obsessive leechings in a very different light.

roose tells ramsay that no tales were ever spread of him, and yet he is notoriously regarded as cold, cruel, and deeply unnerving by the whole of the north. he does, in fact, have a bad reputation. and it does precede him. but roose is protected by his high birth, his status and position as lord of the dreadfort, by his military strength, and by his political and social loyalties + securities as ned stark's bannerman who raised his banners in support of robert's (successful!) rebellion. he, like his son, preys on anonymous northern peasant girls who have no recourse for justice, but he's not quite so loud about it.

speaking of roose's son, let's pivot to domeric real quick.

"Lord Bolton has never acknowledged the boy, so far as I know," Ser Rodrik said. "I confess, I do not know him." "Few do," she replied. "He lived with his mother until two years past, when young Domeric died and left Bolton without an heir. That was when he brought his bastard to the Dreadfort. The boy is a sly creature by all accounts, and he has a servant who is almost as cruel as he is. Reek, they call the man. It's said he never bathes. They hunt together, the Bastard and this Reek, and not for deer. I've heard tales, things I can scarce believe, even of a Bolton. And now that my lord husband and my sweet son have gone to the gods, the Bastard looks at my lands hungrily."

acok; chapter 16, bran ii

from lady hornwood we learn that ramsay was only brought to the dreadfort (and still not publicly acknowledged) after the death of roose's only son and heir

The Lady Walda wrote from the Twins almost every day, but all the letters were the same. "I pray for you morn, noon, and night, my sweet lord," she wrote, "and count the days until you share my bed again. Return to me soon, and I will give you many trueborn sons to take the place of your dear Domeric and rule the Dreadfort after you." Arya pictured a plump pink baby in a cradle, covered with plump pink leeches.

acok; chapter 64, arya x

from walda we get a very young noblewoman's practiced courtesies, assuring her lord husband (a stranger to her) that she will do her duty as his wife and produce him healthy, hale heirs. and we might assume that "your dear domeric" here is just a bit of poetic alliteration that walda includes in her letter to be flowery.

but roose himself talks about domeric in a way that is totally unlike how roose talks about anyone else at all.

"He is your only son." "For the moment. I had another, once. Domeric. A quiet boy, but most accomplished. He served four years as Lady Dustin's page, and three in the Vale as a squire to Lord Redfort. He played the high harp, read histories, and rode like the wind. Horses … the boy was mad for horses, Lady Dustin will tell you. Not even Lord Rickard's daughter could outrace him, and that one was half a horse herself. Redfort said he showed great promise in the lists. A great jouster must be a great horseman first." "Ramsay killed him. A sickness of the bowels, Maester Uthor says, but I say poison. In the Vale, Domeric had enjoyed the company of Redfort's sons. He wanted a brother by his side, so he rode up the Weeping Water to seek my bastard out. I forbade it, but Domeric was a man grown and thought that he knew better than his father. Now his bones lie beneath the Dreadfort with the bones of his brothers, who died still in the cradle, and I am left with Ramsay. Tell me, my lord … if the kinslayer is accursed, what is a father to do when one son slays another?"

adwd; chapter 32, reek iii

domeric is given a depth and a personhood in roose's memories that his three wives and his rape victim are not. he speaks about domeric with a great and enduring father's love and a fierce pride. he goes out of his way to tell theon (a boy lord reduced to a pitiful, nearly inhuman state) about his accomplishments and his interests. roose loved his son.

and his other son -- a culmination of all his many years of cruelty and predation, a congealing together of all his bad blood -- kills him.

roose bringing ramsay to the dreadfort, even before legitimizing him, is his admission that ramsay is the only son he will ever have. he will never sire another heir. ramsay will make certain that any he might produce go to their graves. rams is the death of his house. roose acknowledges that explicitly in reek iii, but he admitted it to himself as soon as he summoned rams from weeping water.

roose's decision not to have any more children is a very intentional one. he is not trying to solve the problem of ramsay killing all his potential heirs. he knows that this will be inevitable. he has accepted that his bastard son snuffed out his one beloved heir, and that the gods have bound his hands. he cannot kill ramsay, for the gods abhor a kinslayer. and yet ramsay is a kinslayer himself, which roose is well aware of. ramsay is only a shadow of the father, and a reflection of his many sins. he is both a result of and a punishment for roose's cruelty.

#ask tag #anon tag #roose bolton #ramsay bolton #the unnamed miller's wife of weeping water #roose tag #ramsay tag #every lord has need of a beaft from time to time

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mylifeiscomics · 3 months ago

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Something Human - Pt.49 Previous - Next

Read the next part now by joining my Patreon for $1 You will also get previews, WIPs, and there's other exclusive content there as well. No pressure though, as this comic will eventually be posted here too and be fully posted on my website for free when it's done.

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Thank you so much for reading! @deardiary17 @mizzingyou @i-belong-in-a-retirement-home @kittenwhodidntwanttogiveup @septic-dr-schneep @queenlovett @theoncomingdoo-dah @thethickofitt @jicklet @ginshoujo @samsrosary @confusedwhovian23 @icouldntthinkofanythingclever @the-wolf-among-the-roses @ducki-52 @shannaniganss @mcsquared1313 @bobcatblahs @schiwalkers-ineffability @mistbornhero @arianseren27 @heartcollectioncupcake @lirarey @heartcollectioncupcake @princess-pine-cone @shinybridge @perseus-jackass

#nine x rose #Something Human #ninth doctor #rose tyler #doctor who #doctor x rose #ninerose #time petals #doctor who fan comic #Bad Wolf #TARDIS #Kate Stewart

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thebestofoneshots · 1 year ago

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.6 K Warnings: ANGST w/ comfort (but also not?) Prompt: At the Potter's. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 49: High Hopes

January, 3rd, 1977

“Kids, come eat something before you leave,” Hope called from the dining room. You were just finishing up packing, Remus had borrowed you his wand and you were putting everything in place (including a mild arrangement of his room that had been evidently changed since you got there) and he had also allowed you to gemino some of the pictures he had in his wall.

You had picked one with the four Marauders, one of 11 year old Remus and Sirius smiling at the camera, one of James and Sirius when they got on the quidditch team, one of Peter working on the map, the one of Sirius you thought was adorable the first time you saw it, one with Lily and Remus doing a presentation and a few others with Sirius and Remus in which you thought they looked adorable or that you could use to tease them later (Hope had given you a few of Rem that were basically gold).

“Coming,” you said as you grabbed the pictures and started arranging them back onto his wall with a flick of his wand. Thankfully Remus’ wand seemed to like you since every time you used it she would respond and do exactly what you’d intended. “Rem, I’m leaving your wand on the desk,” you said after closing the suitcase and taking it in your hands as you stepped out.

“Sweetheart, let me help you with that,” Hope said as she saw you walk with your suitcase in hand and was surprised when she pulled on it and it shot upwards pretty fast. You managed to catch it and her before she tripped backwards. “Levitation spell,” you said with an apologetic smile.

“Sometimes I forget how many useful spells you wizards have for things like this,” she said with a smile and carefully took the suitcase from your hands and sat it in a corner of the room. “Could you add a spell like that to my suitcases, honey?” she asked as she turned to Lyall who nodded in return. “I don’t get why he didn’t tell me about those earlier,” she added as she shook her head. “I’ve got some fruit in the fridge, could you help me get it?” she asked you.

You nodded and followed, this time the fae had sent her an assortment of tropical fruits, everything from bananas to watermelons and dragonfruit. You weren’t sure how they managed to get such a harvest in the middle of winter, but it probably had to do a lot with fae magic that you didn’t yet understand.

Remus was out of his room with a band shirt and a pair of light-wash jeans. He had one of his jumpers in his hands, but his house was warm enough for him to only wear his shirt and clearly he was confident enough to not wear thousands of layers at home. He didn’t mind if you or his parents saw the scars on his arms, you all knew he was a werewolf, and while he was sometimes self-conscious about you seeing them, you had made it clear –on countless occasions– that you would never be repulsed by them.

So when you saw him, with his sweater casually crumpled up in his hand, you couldn’t help but smile. Hope was looking at you attentively, and she was even more confident about her initial thoughts now than she had been by everything she’d gotten from the letters, she just hoped Remus would understand the reference she had given him so she wouldn’t have to be blunt about it.

“What are Sex Pistols?” Lyall asked in a judgeful manner as he stared at Remus’ shirt with a frown.

You laughed because that was the exact reaction you expected a wizard to have after seeing the shirt and Hope was the one to answer, “A muggle band, you’ve heard them!” She said and then she started singing “Now I’ve got a reason, now I’ve got a reason…” Lyall seemed as puzzled as before and Hope just sighed in defeat, “He’s truly hopeless.”

You refrained from making the “Well he has a Hope” pun since it didn’t seem proper to make puns with the names of your friend’s parents. Although, a big part of you thought Hope wouldn’t really mind.

“I thought you said she was a drummer when she was in a band,” you said, turning to Remus with a gasp.

“I was,” she said with a shrug.

“But your singing is fantastic!”

She smiled. “Someone appreciates it,” she added in an exaggerated tone and walked your way, placed her hands on your back and motioned for you to sit on the table. “Come, darling, you can have all the strawberries left.”

“Mum!” Remus complained.

“You’ve never told me I sing nice, Beag Gille. Suck it up, as you kids would say.”

You had to hold back the giggle that threatened to escape your mouth as you sat down next to Hope. She had prepared some toast for jam. Of course, it wouldn’t be just any bread –this was Hope Lupin we were talking about– it was sourdough with dried cranberries and spices. You were going to eat it with butter and jam (that she had made with fae fruit, obviously) and even cream cheese (that one she bought on the muggle market a few miles from the cliffs, she was extra, but she wasn’t that extra).

Hope really had served all the leftover berries on your plate, and she wouldn’t let you offer them to the boys. “They can eat them whenever they’re here, who knows when you’ll come back,” she explained and told you to ignore their pretty puppy eyes.

At least you weren’t the only one who thought Remus had pretty puppy eyes.

You nodded and continued eating, although you slipped two of them under the table in a very muggle magician kind of way, and nudged Remus’ leg with your own. He looked at you confused and you merely nodded downwards as you brought a piece of bread to your mouth. He looked down and instantly noticed your closed fist.

You nodded again and he pulled his hand down in a casual sort of way, brushing his fingers over your hand to let you know he was there since you were telling Hope something about the floating spell. Eventually, he pulled his palm down underneath your fist and you turned your wrist over to let the berries fall on his hand. He allowed his hand to linger just a little bit more, enjoying the fact that he could touch you, and pulled away eventually. Grinning as he brought a piece of bread with peanut butter to his mouth.

After breakfast, you waved your goodbyes to Remus’ parents. Lyall gave you a quick friendly hug and told you to take care and stay out of trouble while Hope embraced you for at least a minute, pulling you close to her as she did and squeezing you tightly.

“Take care, all right? Cailín álainn?”

You recognised one of those words, It’s what Remus had called you and Sirius once. But why would his mother call you “shit”?

“Álainn?” you asked.

“My beautiful girl, of course,” she added and pressed a kiss to your hair.

What did she say? Beautiful girl?!? But wasn’t that–

“Off you go,” she added after finally separating from the embrace. “To have fun and all of that.”

“But not too much fun,” Lyall added with an accusing finger directed towards Remus, but Hope was quick enough to push that finger out of the way and sigh at her husband.

“All the fun you want,” she said and took a small box from the mantel and opened it, revealing the very classic green of the floo powder.

Remus took a handful and you did the same afterwards. “I’ll go first,” he said and threw the powder on the chimney as he said, “Potter’s Manor,” in a very clear voice.

You were about to do the same when Hope pressed a hand on your shoulder. “You are a very strong woman,” she said as she stared at you directly. “A true hero.” You frowned, ready to refute her when she shook her head. “Take care of my Remus, will you? I know he’ll be taking care of you. You’re very dear to him.”

“Always,” you replied, without family left, your friends had become their equal and you would defend them with all your might if the situation needed it. Something like Christmas could not happen again. You refused to lose any more of your people.

Hope smiled and pulled you into a quick hug, before turning you around with her hands and pushing you towards the chimney, “All right, Cailín álainn, no stalling, there are handsome men waiting for you on the other side.” You threw the powder into the fire. “Oh, and write me, darling. I want to hear all of your misadventures!” she said as you murmured the words and disappeared into the fireplace.

Remus was on the other side, dusting off some remnant ashes from his pants as he looked around the living room, it seemed empty, he had already put on his sweater since the living room was chillier than his house, he was probably also being careful, in case there was anyone other than the Potters in the house.

“Did we arrive at the right time?” you asked with a frown as you too dusted off your shoulder.

“Yeah, they said about 10,” Remus replied as he checked his watch. It was 10:15, not English punctuality but that had been on his mum stalling the two of you.

Then you felt a hand gripping you from behind and pulling you upwards from the waist, you would have panicked, if you hadn’t instantly known it was Sirius. The invisibility cloak he had been wearing slipped from him as he buried his head on your neck. You had talked to Sirius and James every day, but that didn’t stop him from clinging to you the minute he spotted you.

“How are you?” He whispered into your neck.

“Kinda constrained,” you replied as you nodded towards his caging hands.

“You know what I meant.”

You swallowed, not quite sure if you were ready to talk about it all again. Thankfully, Prongs was there to save you. He took off the cloak with a rather exasperated sigh. “Pads! We were supposed to get them at the same time!”

“Sorry,” Sirius mumbled in the least apologetic tone you’d heard.

James shook his head and then pulled Moony into a short hug, “Merry Christmas, mate,” he said and then quite literally ripped you from Sirius’ grasp to give you a bear hug.

“James, James, James,” you said as he overdid it with the squeezing.

“Sorry,” he said as he pulled apart and you just shook your head with a smile in return. Sirius had pulled Remus into a similar hug, and he was still hugging the taller boy when James let go of you. You smiled when you saw how cosy they looked against each other and James placed his arm around your shoulder.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” James said with a smile. “We need to discuss Marauder’s business.”

“But Peter’s not here,” you said. Sirius pulled apart from Remus who looked a little phased, took your suitcase and placed it on the table before plopping down on the sofa.

“He’s on a family trip in Italy, he won’t be back ‘til after vacation, but we’ll write him the details,” Sirius said and then opened his arms and looked at you. “Come?”

You rolled your eyes but did as told, secretly enjoying how clingy Sirius was, and sat on his lap like you often did. James sat on the table in front of you and pulled Moony by the arm so he would sit on the right in front of him, next to you and Sirius.

“We were thinking about a small little prank,” he said, “to mark our coming back to school and all that.”

“Yeah?” You asked, reclining onto Sirius and getting a little more comfortable. Remus, who had had you all to himself for more than a week, was having a rather hard time coping with the sudden space between the two of you. He was tempted to place his hand around Sirius’s shoulders and bring both of you closer to him, but he knew it wasn’t possible.

“So Sirius and I were talking about the time you used the swamp bomb and how we had accidentally trapped a creature inside of it.”

“And,” Sirius started from behind you. “We thought it was really interesting how the creature quite literally busted out the minute you exploded the bomb.”

“It was not interesting,” Remus said almost bitterly. They hadn’t seen you fall, they hadn’t seen you in the water and they hadn’t smelled your fear as you stepped away from the murky water and frosted the lake.

“From an impartial point of view,” you added with a shrug, clearly trying to excuse the boys’ words, you wouldn’t have used interesting to describe it either, but you kind of got what they meant by it. Remus had to hold back a scoff. He was having a hard time tolerating the bursting of the comfortable bubble you had both been immersed in.

“Sorry Vix,” Sirius said with an apologetic look. “But hear us out. What if we put not one, but several creatures inside of a swamp bomb.”

“Define creatures…”

“Tadpoles,” Sirius said from behind, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“You want them to turn into toads,” Remus said as he looked at the two boys, now a bit more invested in the prank. “Why?”

“Because we want to infest Hogwarts with Toads,” James said with a satisfied smile. Sirius pulled a small crystal ball from his pocket and handed it over to you. Very condensed inside it, there was thick murky water.

You took a look, “How many of them did you put in here?” you asked as you handed the ball to Remus, he pulled his hand faster than he normally would from yours, which made you frown. What’s with him?

“About 17 dozen, Peter found a spawning bed filled with hundreds of them and the idea just came to us in an instant.”

“We’ve been flying through the grounds to find some more, but most of them are frozen due to the snow.”

“How many have you made?” You asked.

James smiled, pulled a handful from his pocket, and placed it between your hands. Then he pulled another one and left it in Remus' hands. “Peter will be getting more in Italy, he promised.”

“So we’ll have at least a hundred of these?” Remus asked. Sirius nodded. “How are you planning to explode them all at the same time?”

“That’s why you two are here. You’re good with this kind of thing.”

You scoffed with a smile, “You left us the hardest part!”

“Try finding spawning beds and catching them in spheres, Vix,” Prongs retorted with a daring kind of face and stuck out your tongue to him. He gasped as he pulled back and played offended.

“We could time-set them?” Remus offered.

“Yeah, but what kind of charm would do that?” You asked. “A freezing charm, hiding them in the corner of classrooms and having them fall during first period?”

“Told you they would figure it out,” Sirius said as he looked at the two of you with a proud smile and side eyes James who had a small frown and pursed lips.

“Oh, that could actually work, but we’d have to perfect the charm so they all fall at the same time, if not they could figure it out and stop them from exploding,” Remus responded to you.

“Does that mean one person would have to charm all of them? There’s no way in hell we’d have enough time.”

“Not if we make the spell and teach the others how to do it,” he retorted. “Maybe we can run some tests… with toadless swamp bombs.”

“Got some of those?” you asked James.

“We can make them,” he responded with a shrug.

And that’s how you set yourself up for the task, while Remus and you figured out how to deal with the spell, James and Sirius went out to make some toadless swamp bombs for you to test them. You didn’t see the Potters until it was dinner time.

Effie was more than thrilled over the fact that you were staying at her house and she asked Mellie and Picksie to prepare some treats for you and Remus while Monty cooked dinner. “Boys, we’re talking girls stuff,” she announced after setting the table and pulled you to the side. You looked at them with a worried expression and Sirius shrugged, while James gave you a teasing thumbs up.

Effie took you to a room filled with books and looked at you with a small frown. “You’ve already talked to Dumbledore?”

It might have been toned like a question, but it sounded a lot more like a statement. “Yes.”

She nodded and placed her hand on your shoulder, she had a sad sort of look on her face that made you feel like you were being pitied, which had you shift uncomfortably. It was completely different to the way she had looked at you back at the train station when you first met her, and you felt like the memories were flooding back.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked simply. “Have you talked about it to someone?”

You hesitated to answer. “I don’t,” you said honestly. “I’d rather not think about it altogether.”

She sighed and then nodded, as if she both knew it was a bad idea to suck it all up, and understood exactly where you were coming from. “You should process it, not now–” she added when she saw the deepening of your frown. “But you should eventually talk about it, even if it’s just to yourself.”

You nodded to her words, “Now… since you’ll be staying with the boys and I know you’re dating Sirius, I’ve brought you this,” she said, handing you a crystal bottle with greenish liquid inside.

You knew well what it was since McGonagall had shown you an identical potion back in her special class.

“Monty has already talked to the boys, but I wanted to make sure you were also taking care of yourself. Especially now that–” She didn’t finish, but you knew exactly what she meant.

Especially now that you don’t have a mum.

“Thank you, Effie,” you said honestly, and she instantly pulled you into a hug.

“I’m really sorry for everything you’ve gone through. I’ll work even harder so these kinds of things don’t happen again.” You didn’t say anything, and she continued. “You were incredibly brave,” she added, “defending a friend against them, it must have been a tough call to make.”

That had been the easiest part. You had never hesitated on whether to try to save Nina and your mother. The hard part was failing and having to live with it.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for showing them that we aren’t all on their side and that we won’t stand down to their bigotry.”

You didn’t speak much, but Effie continued to give you praises for a couple of minutes, and then she told you a bit about the order and gave you a small keychain with a protean charm that would allow you to call her in case you ever needed her help. After that, she gave you a small pat on the back and told you dinner was ready.

You were still a little shaken by the time you stepped out of the room and Remus was struggling not to wrap you in his arms and pull you into a tight hug. But it was Sirius the one who did it, he pressed a bunch of kisses to your face and then one on your lips. It was quick, and it had been a second, but it was enough to have James grumble something about being forgotten because you were around, and complaining to Moony when Sirius had you sit next to him, on his usual spot.

Even though the talk with Effie had shaken you again, you were quick to let yourself be drowned by the merry atmosphere, James and Sirius complaining and somehow managed to flip the switch, leaving the problems at the back of your mind and actually enjoying the dinner and conversation even if the words wouldn’t quite reach your mind.

Anything to avoid, anything to forget, even if only for a minute.

Remus had been looking at you attentively throughout the dinner, the way Sirius was being extra touchy with you, he had probably noticed how upset you were too. Sirius wasn’t stupid. But he was waiting for the right time to talk to you. He was giving you space, but holding you close while at it. It was sweet, the two of you were a really sweet match, one made in heaven. And he was nothing more than a serpent, a tempting –or perhaps tempted– serpent that had fallen in love.

He would have to put up some space, he would have to step away, because if any of you had a taste of his apple then that beautiful relationship, that made him feel so many things at once, would crumble, and he would be to blame.

But how could he step away? You had been through hell and back and you needed your friends, even if you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, you needed them. And he was your best friend, for fucks sake. How could he prioritise his feelings over yours? Remus started to feel like a monster again, and it was not because he was a werewolf. But rather because he had allowed himself to bask on the idea of being with you and seeing you with Sirius, how close you were to each other, it just reminded him that it wasn’t possible. It wasn’t possible to have either of you.

You might have allowed the conversation to swallow you, but you weren’t blind, you could tell there was something going on with Rem, he was different, he had been different the instant you appeared in Potter’s manor. And while at first, you thought it might have been because he was in a different house, it was like you could almost see the inner conflict inside his eyes. It was something similar to what you saw when you looked in the mirror, but at the same time, it was vastly different.

Whatever it was that was troubling Remus, wasn’t related to what had happened that night, even if he had cried for Nina when you told him the story, even if he had been sad about your mother and had hugged you until you stopped crying, Remus’ mind was plagued with a different feeling, you weren’t sure why, but you knew.

“That was delicious,” you said with a polite smile. “Thank you, Monty.”

Monty beamed at your praise and sent you a very James Potter-like wink, “You’re welcome darling, you may dine here whenever you want. And I mean it, I don’t care if James and Sirius are busy, you’re family now.”

It had been a short, almost throw-away comment, but you felt your heart swell with warmth when he said it. You had lost your parents, but you had gained Hope and you had gained Effie and Monty. You might have felt lonely, but you wouldn’t be alone.

“That’s right,” James said as he placed his hands around your shoulder. “She’s like the sister I never got, isn’t she boys?”

“Well she’s not like a sister to me,” Sirius said and sent you a wink that pulled a small chuckle from you.

Remus didn’t respond.

And again, you noticed. It was like you were noticing many things and a lot of them had to do with Remus. Like that one thing that you had seen hints of in the past was finally revealing itself and you weren’t sure exactly what it was, but you had the feeling that you’d be able to tell soon enough.

“Gross,” James said and pulled you closer to him.

“You’ll take her to her room?” Effie asked.

“Indeed,” he responded as he dragged you up their stairwell, “I’ll even give her a short tour.”

“Aha?” you asked.

He nodded in return and stepped right in front of you when you reached the end of the stairwell. “So, that way we have the office, the library and my parent’s room,” he said and moved to the other side of the hallway and pointed at a door. “This is mine and Sirius’ room, Mum and Dad used an extending charm to make you a room and Rem will stay with us.”

“You shouldn’t have gone through the trouble…”

“Because you always end up sleeping all together?” James teased. “Mum is open-minded but not that open-minded.”

You gasped and punched James on the shoulder, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He replied. “I believe Mellie and Picksie have already taken your stuff there, so you should be set to sleep if that’s what you want. You have your own bathroom, although there is also one at the end of the hall, you already know the one that’s downstairs, yeah?”

You nodded in response.

“Good, any questions?”

“Nope.”

“Excellent. Now, it’s not that late, and we’re planning to play a muggle board game Sirius got sent by Andromeda. It’s called Monopoly.”

“Oh, I know how to play,” Remus said casually.

“Meet you in our room?” James asked.

“Yeah,” you said with a nod and walked inside yours.

You took a quick shower and changed into a pair of comfortable pyjamas. With a towel still around your shoulders to catch the wetness of your hair, you knocked on their door. James was setting up the game and Sirius looked confused as Remus tried to explain the instructions to him, the three were sitting on the floor. You approached them and after sitting down, you carefully took the instructions from Remus’ hand. Again, he was quick to pull away from you and you tried to ignore the feeling as you sank into your seat and started to read through them. You were also slightly confused. The whole “put houses and hotels” was a concept you weren’t really familiar with, it was nothing like Wizard’s Chess!

“So, you got it?” Remus asked.

“I have to pay if I fall on your property? But why? You would never charge me, we’re friends,” Sirius said.

“Yes, but it’s the game’s rule. If he doesn’t charge you because you’re friends then he wouldn’t charge any of us and he would lose the game,” you explained.

“And what’s with this money?” he added as he took one of the bills from the game. “It looks so weird. But muggles also use paper, I remember that. How do they protect against falsification, like gemino and muggle forgers?”

“Sirius! You’re not thinking of using magic while playing, are you?” You said as you threw him a look.

“Is it against the rules? It’s not in here,” he added as he took the paper from your hands and showed it.

“Of course, it isn’t,” you said as you took it from his hands. “It’s a muggle game Sirius, they don’t add ‘Spells are forbidden’ in the rules like we do.”

“So that means no magic?” he asked.

“No,” Remus and you said at the same time.

“And no duplicating the money if you ran out either,” James warned.

“I’m just saying, it wouldn’t be against the rules.”

You gave Sirius a stern look and turned to Remus, it was as if he instantly knew what you wanted since he handed over his wand. “Accio pencil.”

A pencil flew from James’ desk and towards your hand. You caught it with ease and wrote down two new rules on the paper.

THE USE OF ANY KIND OF MAGIC IS FORBIDDEN

FORGING THE MONEY (BE IT BY MUGGLE MEANS OR WIZARDING ONES) IS ALSO FORBIDDEN.

“Now it’s against the rules.”

“I’ve always found it fascinating how Moony’s wand just works when you use it,” James said as he looked at the item in question in disbelief.

“You’re just jealous you can’t use it,” Sirius said as he took Remus’ wand and effortlessly levitated the pencil back to the desk.

“I’m sure I can if I try hard enough,” James said, taking the wand in his hands and flicking it about. Nothing happened. He flicked it again and still nothing. He did again, with more force, and the pencil flicked from the spot and launched towards him. You were quick enough to move the game board over his face and the pencil’s tip crashed against it.

“Shit, it made a dent,” you said as you pulled the board down and looked at the place that the pencil had, pretty much stabbed into. Right above the Angel of Islington, there was a dent in the shape of the pencil, the graphite tip had broken and was now stuck in the cardboard.

“That would have been your face, mate,” Sirius said while James took Moony’s wand between his thumb and index fingers –as if it had been a bomb– and placed it in front of Remus’ crossed feet.

Remus rolled his eyes and took his wand, he flicked in the air and both the chipped pencil and the gameboard were repaired, he didn’t even have to say a word.

“Yeah, thanks Vix,” He said as he turned to you. You just shrugged in response. It had been almost instinctive, you didn’t even think before acting, you saw the pencil shake and you knew something bad might have happened. “Be my team.”

“There are no teams in Monopoly,” Remus said with a sigh.

“Well we could change that,” James said with a shrug.

“If they didn’t change the rules for me to forge money, then they’re not gonna change them for you to steal my girlfriend.”

“How about we just start playing instead?” you offered, and in between you and Remus started distributing the money and placing things on the board.

“I’ll be the dog,” Sirius said, instantly taking the small metal dog from Remus’ hands.

“I’ll take the car,” James said.

“And you, Little Witch?”

“You pick first,” you said simply, and Remus stared at the pieces left in his hand like he wasn’t sure which one to take, and eventually he took the thimble. Pushing the rest of the pieces your way.

You took the small battleship and placed it on “Go”. The rest of the boys did the same.

“Hey Moons, can I have my £200?” James said.

“It’s only after the first round,” he explained.

“It’s on the rules Prongs, didn’t you read them?” Sirius added as he handed him the paper and James scoffed at his hypocrisy.

You laughed at their interaction and took the dice in your hands before shaking them and throwing them on the board, “Seven? Alright you go,” you said as you handed them to Remus who got a 10. James got an eight and Sirius got a 3.

“Good, so I start,” Remus said and threw the dice again, moving towards the spot marked on the board.

The first couple of rounds were uneventful. You were all just playing around, and it wasn’t until at least 40 minutes later that things started to get a little more complicated.

James had gotten possession of all the orange properties after making a deal with Sirius to exchange an orange for the last railroad that he needed to complete the set. Remus had somehow managed to get the entirety of the 3rd line and while you had 3 houses on Park Lane, no one had fallen even close to either of them in the last two rounds.

“Remus please,” Sirius pleaded. “Please, please, let me go, just this once, I’ll pay you as soon as someone falls on Kings Cross. James is super close, look.”

Remus shook his head. “I’m sorry Pads, rules are rules.”

“But you let Vix go a couple of rounds ago.”

“She gave me her get-out-of-jail card in exchange, and I’ve fallen there twice already. What would you give me in exchange?”

“Moony!” Sirius whined. James had already taken his pink cards a round earlier when he fell and also had no money to pay for it. He would have to mortgage his properties to pay off, and James had already done it once and he had been terribly upset over just getting half of the money he paid for it.

You sighed, you didn’t want Sirius to lose, but you didn’t want him to be kicked out of the game so suddenly either. “How much do you have?”

“£100.”

You nodded and checked your money. You weren’t much better either but you had a bit of a cushion so you pulled the £150 he needed from your bill stack and handed it over.

James gasped, “That’s so not fair! You made me mortgage White Chapel Rode to pay off my debt!”

“I want it back with a 20% over the total when you have capital. And I will not be charged if I fall on your properties until you’ve paid up the debt.”

“Never mind,” James said, swallowing his own words. “Not even because he’s your boyfriend. I mean he would have been better off getting a mortgage.”

“No,” Remus said, charging the money Sirius owed and placing it on his own stack of bills. He currently had the thickest stack and the most properties. Unless there was a massive turn of events, he would win, and you definitely did not need him keeping Sirius’ properties. “Sirius would have had to mortgage at least four properties to get enough money to pay, that would mean he’d have to sell one of his railroads and therefore he would have lost his set, decreasing the total amount of profit he’d get if one of us fell on it. He would have also had to sell the houses in Islington and sell one of his blue afterwards. And only for half the money he spent on them initially. Besides, even if she won’t get charged, we will, so he has a 2/3 chance of getting the money to pay her back. If any of us fall on Kings Cross –and we’re both close– he’ll have enough to pay Vix back and he wouldn’t have sold off any of his properties.

“But only to pay back, and then he’ll be broke again.”

“He’s close to ‘Go’, he’ll capitalise then, and he’ll manage to survive for at least a few more turns. She’s actually saving his ass.”

“That’s because she’s the best,” Sirius said and placed a kiss on your cheek before handing the dice to Remus and he threw them, falling on Park Lane and finally giving you enough money to continue with the next round without major issues.

Sirius and James survived for a couple more rounds, but eventually, they both went bankrupt, James couldn’t pay a debt to the bank and he had to give all his properties back, and since you and Remus had enough money, you had to fight it out to get them on an auction. Sirius lost to Remus later, but this time around he didn’t even ask for a waiver.

“Here, take it all Moony, I cannot fight against your economic skills,” he said dramatically and handed his leftover money and properties to Remus.

James had pulled a pillow from the bed and was soundly sleeping beside you and Sirius, who had pulled you onto his lap shortly after he lost the game and was paying close attention to everything you did within the game. Then you fell into the dеathtrap that Remus had designed on Fleet Street and Picadilly. Losing most of your money after two rolls of the dice. Luckily he fell on Mayfair and Parklane afterwards and you managed to get back most of what you’d lost.

A few more rounds went on and Sirius yawned. Pulling you closer to him. “Just give up, neither of you it’s going to win this one. Moony allowed you to pay half the debt last time you fell on Coventry and you let it slip when he fell on Kings Cross because he promised to do your Herbology homework. At this point, you owe more favours to each other than money.”

“But you can’t give up on this game.”

“Then be ruthless to each other and have one of the two go bankrupt.”

You pouted, and James mumbled something in his sleep, “Moony, no. Let me keep my deed card, please…” The three of you laughed and you leaned down to place a deed card on his hand. He was quick to grip it and smiled.

“How about a truce?” Sirius offered. “I really want to go to bed.”

“Well then go,” Remus said with a shrug.

“I meant all of us to go to bed,” he said nonchalantly. “We haven’t cuddled in a while.”

Remus swallowed, so much for space. “You mean– we’re still doing the cuddle thing?”

“Just in case,” you said, “Moony took Vixen in, but we don’t know if it was just a one-time thing or not.”

Remus knew. Moony had accepted Vixen already, he wasn’t gonna try and eat or chase her unless it was a game. He could just tell you and be done with it. No more Sirius on top of him in the mornings, no more you laying your head on his shoulder before you turned into Vixen. Just him and his own bed. The idea sounded like a nightmare.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, agreeing. “We shouldn’t let our guard down. Just in case.”

“So, shake hands, kiss kiss, and you both win,” Sirius said as he placed his hands on your shoulder and shook them a little.

You laughed and extended your hand for Remus to shake, “Truce?”

“Truce,” he replied with a nod.

“Let’s go then,” Sirius said as he patted your leg and pushed you to stand.

“I’ll go wash my teeth,” you said as you waved at the boys and exited their room.

“How is she?” Sirius asked the instant he was alone with Moony. Well, technically Prongs was there too but he slept like a log, so he might as well be in Narnia altogether.

“You’ve seen her.”

“Yeah, I can tell she’s shaken. Heck, I am shaken and I barely knew the girl. You knew Nina better, didn’t you?”

“Vixen said she was crushing on me after the first study club, remember?”

“That was Nina?” Sirius asked, shocked as he took a deep breath. “Anyway, how is she?”

“Quiet,” Remus admitted. “She prefers avoiding the subject entirely. She only told me what happened the day after it happened and then one time when I found her crying outside, she mentioned how she felt. I think it’s much better not to pressure her to talk about it.”

“I assumed as much,” Sirius said with a sigh. “But I’m worried, her smile it… it barely reaches her eyes now.”

Remus had noticed that too. The façade you had created was not enough to hide how you truly felt from either of the two, “I know.”

“How can we change that?”

“We can’t. We can only support her until she feels better.”

“It’s agonising,” Sirius breathed and hid his face in between his hands. And he hasn’t even seen her cry, Remus thought. “You know the way Nina diеd–” Sirius started and looked up, his eyes were glassy with tears. “Vix was trying so hard to defend her, so hard to escape and then she– it was a split second Moony, barely a minute, she was trying to repair the path to continue and they sent a course her way, Nina stepped in, she took the blow instead because she new Vix was already rather weak…. Nina saved her.”

“I know,” Remus said.

“You know what’s the last thing Nina told her?” Remus shook his head. “That she was pleased Vix was the last thing she got to see. She thanked her for saving her, even if she didn’t…” Sirius stopped and wiped his eyes. Witnessing the entire thing in first person had taken a toll on him too, Remus could tell. Sirius wasn’t only suffering for you, but with you as well. He felt tempted to bring Sirius into a hug, even more when he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

Sirius didn’t feel worthy of crying, albeit he had done it more than once when he was alone, he thought that he didn’t have the right. It had been your mother and your close friend, he had been merely a spectator. What Sirius didn’t understand was that pain wasn’t something to be measured and weighed, it was not something to compare and pin against each other, you can’t say “I don’t deserve to cry” just because someone else has it a lot worse. Your feelings, no matter where they stem from, are valid since they are true for you.

“She stayed there, she was crying on top of Nina, that was the last thing I saw. I– I didn’t think she would move.”

“She wasn’t going to,” Remus said. You had never said that explicitly, but it had been obvious from the way things happened. “She would have kept trying if it hadn’t been for Barty.”

“Barty, of all people,” Sirius said in disbelief. There was a second of quiet and then Sirius turned to look at Remus. He was as beautiful as he remembered, he hadn’t quite realised how much closer he’d veered to him while they talked but they were now much closer, his knees brushing against each other and he was close enough to get a whiff off Remus’ chocolaty scent, he smelled of you too.

Then the knob twisted and the door opened, Remus pulled back hastily and Sirius turned into Padfoot before you noticed he’d been crying. “Everything all right?” you asked with a frown when you felt the tense atmosphere.

You looked at Remus but Padfoot was quicker and ran your way, jumping and placing his paws on your shoulders, his size made you stagger back a little and you laughed when he started to lick your face. Remus stared for a second and then flicked his wand so the game would go back to the box and then took it in his hand to place it on the table, avoiding the sight of the two of you almost entirely.

“I missed you too, big boy,” you said as you brushed your hand over the back of Padfoot’s head, he barked softly in return and then dug his snout into your neck in the same way he did to Remus when you cuddled. You were petting him as Remus finished setting the bed.

The second Remus sat on the bed, Padfoot barked again, softer than he had earlier.

“Go ahead,” you said. “He’s better at petting you than I am anyway.”

Padfoot gave you another short lick and jumped from you and towards Remus, throwing himself over in the same way he had with you, although Remus hadn’t even staggered. You smiled when you saw them.

Sirius was just happy he could hug Rem more now that he was Padfoot and was bossing him around so he would lay on the bed properly by biting his shirt and trying to pull him back. “Oi, Pads, I’m coming,” he said as he carefully unclasped his watch to set it on the night table. Padfoot barked again to hurry him.

“You know Rem,” you said with a sneaky little smile. He hummed in return. “I think Sirius missed us more.” Padfoot’s face changed and he turned to you instantly, barking in retort. “I mean he was calling us often, he had me on his lap whenever he could, and I’m sure he would have asked me to play with his hair if it hadn’t been that we were so busy with the prank.”

Remus smirked. “Oh, he definitely missed you more.” Padfoot now turned his head to him and barked.

“I suppose I win the bet then,” you said with a smile and Padfoot barked one more time before running your way, but you were quicker and turned into Vixen before he placed his paws on your shoulders, sneaking in between his legs as he fell again, slightly startled.

You ran under the bed and crossed the entire thing before jumping over and climbing onto Remus’ lap who was still sitting. He laughed as you brushed your head to his stomach and Padfoot barked at you for being so sneaky. You must have been saying something to each other –since you kept barking– but Remus was clueless as to what that might have been, so he just carefully raised you up and accommodated, allowing enough space for Padfoot to climb into and get comfortable himself.

“Didn’t you say you were tired?” he said with eyebrows raised at Padfoot who had now rested his snout on Remus’ shoulder. “Stop arguing with Vixen and sleep then.” Padfoot lifted his head and barked in return. “If not, we might as well finish the game.”

The dog whined and sank back into Remus’ shoulder. After that, it didn’t take much for Remus soft and purposeful petting, for both you and Pads to fall asleep. Sirius now much calmer, he had both you and Remus around.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Remus noooooo!!!!!