#crazy only 2/3 more chapters left

[mocharyc]

Invincible variants x reader Pt. 3✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

♡ Will their sleepy beauty awake from her beauty sleep? ♡

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.4

Chapter 3: Beast Within

☆ WC: 9k+ [Part 3] ☆ Author's Note: May have gone a bit crazy with this chapter. It's so hard to capture each character's different voice and personally... but I think, I did it ⸜(ˊᗜˋ)⸝

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The Peaceful moment, of just sleepy beauty and him; ended as quickly as it came.

The cabin door crashed open with enough force to splinter the frame, sending wooden fragments scattering across the floor like shrapnel. Framed in the doorway, silhouetted against the predawn light, Sinister Mark's massive form filled the space entirely. His black and yellow suit seemed to absorb what little light touched it, creating the unsettling impression of a human-shaped void with only those gleaming, unnatural eyes breaking through the darkness behind those black lenses. The corners of his mouth twitched upward in that familiar, manic way—the smile of a predator who enjoyed playing with his food.

"Time's up, Mohawk," he purred, his voice carrying a honeyed malice that made the air in the cabin feel suddenly thick and oppressive. His fingers flexed at his sides, the black portions of his suit rippling like living shadows eager to taste blood. "My turn with darling."

Mohawk Mark hadn't moved from his position beside Y/N, his large hand still wrapped protectively around hers. The six hours had passed in a blur of memories and promises whispered to her unconscious form, and he'd made his decision long before Sinister arrived. His shoulders tensed visibly, the muscles in his back coiling like springs as he traced his thumb over Y/N's knuckles one last time.

"Fuck off," Mohawk growled, not bothering to look up. The mohawk that gave him his name stood in defiant spikes, catching the dim light filtering through the cabin's broken window. "She stays with me." The possessiveness in his voice was raw, primal—not the usual cockiness he brandished like a weapon, but something deeper, more vulnerable.

Sinister's lips curved into that signature psychotic grin, teeth too sharp to be fully Viltrumite, glinting in the dim light. The temperature in the cabin seemed to drop several degrees as he stepped inside, closing the damaged door behind him with deliberate gentleness that was somehow more threatening than any slam could have been. His eyes never left Y/N's face, drinking in her features with an intensity that bordered on worship.

"Now, now," Sinister chided, his voice dripping with mock disappointment. "We had an agreement, didn't we? Six hours each. That was the deal." He tilted his head, studying Mohawk with predatory intensity, running his tongue over those too-sharp teeth. "Unless you'd like to renegotiate? I'm always up for a little... physical debate."

The black portions of his suit seemed to writhe and shift subtly, like living shadows eager to be unleashed. The yellow highlights pulsed with an internal light that cast sickly patterns across the cabin walls, transforming the rustic space into something from a nightmare. The wooden floor beneath his feet seemed to darken, as if the very materials of the cabin responded to his corrupted presence.

"Try it," Mohawk challenged, finally looking up, his eyes burning with barely contained rage. He positioned himself more fully between Sinister and Y/N's unconscious form, his blue and black suit a stark contrast to Sinister's darkness. "I'll tear your fucking arms off and beat you to death with them." The statement would have seemed like typical Mohawk bravado to anyone who didn't notice the slight tremor in his hands—not fear, but the effort of restraining himself from launching across the room.

Sinister laughed, the sound like broken glass grinding underfoot. "Such vivid imagery! I've always appreciated your creative spirit, Mohawk." He moved closer, each step measured and deliberate, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight as if in protest. "But let's be realistic. We both know I could rip your soul out through your nostrils if I wanted to." His grin widened impossibly, stretching beyond what should have been physically possible. "And I very much want to."

Before either could move, the cabin door opened again—more controlled this time, but no less commanding. Omni Mark stepped inside, his red and gray suit pristine despite the violence they'd all participated in mere hours ago. His presence immediately dominated the room, calm authority radiating from him in palpable waves. Where Sinister was chaos and Mohawk was raw emotion, Omni was cold calculation wrapped in a veneer of reason.

"Enough," he said simply, his voice carrying the weight of someone used to being obeyed without question. His eyes swept over the scene—Mohawk by Y/N's bedside, Sinister poised for violence, the damaged cabin bearing witness to their territorial squabbling. The tension in the room seemed to bend toward him, like metal filings aligning to a magnet.

"This is beneath us," Omni continued, closing the door behind him. Unlike Sinister's theatrical entrance, Omni's movements were economical, purposeful. He clasped his hands behind his back, standing with military precision.

 "We have a mission that requires cooperation, not petty infighting." His gaze lingered for just a moment on Y/N's unconscious form, something flickering in his eyes—concern, possessiveness, calculation—before it was swiftly buried beneath his composed exterior.

"Tell that to Mohawk," Sinister said, his voice taking on a childish whine that was somehow more disturbing coming from someone who could level mountains. He gestured dramatically toward the bed, his movements fluid and unnaturally graceful. "He's not playing by the rules."

"Rules?" Mohawk scoffed, rising to his full height but never releasing Y/N's hand. His mohawk seemed to bristle with his rising anger, his free hand clenching into a fist that could pulverize steel. 

"Since when do you give a shit about rules? Wasn't it in your universe, you turned an entire kindergarten class inside out because you were bored. You turned their fucking little kids bodies inside OUT!" His voice rose with each word until he was practically shouting, the veins in his neck standing out against his skin.

Something dark flickered across Sinister's face—not guilt, but perhaps irritation at having his actions so casually exposed. "They were defective specimens," he dismissed with a wave of his hand, the black material of his suit rippling with the movement. "I was simply... quality testing." His voice dropped to a purr as his gaze returned to Y/N. "I'm much more careful with the things I truly value."

Omni Mark moved between them, his presence creating a buffer zone in the suddenly too-small cabin. Outside, the first hints of dawn were breaking through the trees, casting long shadows through the broken window that stretched across Y/N's still form like spectral fingers.

"The agreement stands," he stated firmly, his gaze settling on Mohawk. "Six hours each. It's Sinister's turn to watch over her." Though his words were reasonable, there was steel beneath them—the voice of a man who had killed his own father to assume his mantle.

"Not happening," Mohawk insisted, his jaw set in stubborn defiance. His grip on Y/N's hand tightened possessively, his thumb absently stroking her skin. "I found her first. She stays with me." There was something almost childlike in his insistence, a stark contrast to his usual abrasive personality.

"Found her?" Omni's eyebrow raised slightly, the subtle movement speaking volumes. "Or recognized her? There's a difference, one you seem intent on blurring." His voice remained level, but there was an edge to it now—the hint of a threat beneath the reasoned exterior.

Mohawk's face hardened, his grip on Y/N's hand tightening imperceptibly. "What's your point?" The question came out as a snarl, the brief flash of vulnerability vanishing beneath his customary aggression.

"My point," Omni said with maddening patience, stepping closer until he towered over Mohawk despite their identical height, "is that you're confusing this Y/N with your dead girlfriend. They may share a face, but they are not the same person." Each word was precisely calibrated to wound, delivered with surgical precision.

The words hit Mohawk like physical blows, each one landing with accuracy on his most vulnerable spots. He flinched, his face momentarily betraying the raw wound that still festered beneath his brash exterior. For a heartbeat, the swagger and bravado fell away, revealing the broken man beneath.

"Fuck you," he spat, but the words lacked their usual venom, hollowed out by the truth in Omni's assessment. His fingers trembled slightly around Y/N's, as if afraid she might dissolve into nothing if he let go.

Sinister's grin returned, wider than ever, feeding on the emotional distress like a shark scenting blood in the water. He slid closer, moving with that unnatural fluidity that made him seem more shadow than solid. "Oh, did we touch a nerve? Poor baby Mohawk, still crying over spilled girlfriend?" His voice was a singsong mockery, designed to cut deep.

Before anyone could react, Mohawk launched himself at Sinister, releasing Y/N's hand for the first time in hours. His fist connected with Sinister's jaw with a thunderclap sound that shook the cabin's foundations, sending both of them crashing through the already damaged wall and into the clearing outside. The impact sent splinters of wood flying in all directions, the cabin itself groaning in protest at the abuse.

Omni didn't move to stop them, simply sighing as if dealing with particularly troublesome children. He glanced down at Y/N, still miraculously unconscious despite the chaos erupting around her. The black lenses of his mask kept his emotions sealed away, but he couldn't help but admire the dawn light caught on her features, highlighting the delicate arch of her cheekbones, the fan of her eyelashes against her skin, the beautiful texturing of her face.

His gaze lingered on the angry red burn around her neck where the collar had chafed, and something tightened in his chest—an unfamiliar sensation he couldn't immediately identify. The urge to reach out, to trace those marks with his fingertips, to soothe the damaged skin, caught him off guard with its intensity. In his universe, weakness was something to be despised, eliminated, she was weak. Yet seeing Y/N injured sparked not contempt but a fierce, protective impulse that both confused and disturbed him.

Outside, the sounds of combat intensified—trees splintering, earth trembling, the distinctive crack of breaking bones followed by inhuman howls of pain and rage. Omni moved to the broken wall, watching dispassionately as Mohawk and Sinister tore into each other with abandon, each blow powerful enough to level city blocks. Mohawk fought with raw fury, his attacks wild but devastating, while Sinister moved like liquid darkness, his laughter echoing through the forest despite the blood streaming from his mouth.

"Predictable," Omni murmured, shaking his head slightly. His attention returned to Y/N, studying her with calculating intensity. In his universe, he had a Y/N– and she was diagnosed with... He had never allowed himself before to have such a weakness, such an obvious pressure point for enemies to exploit. But looking at her now, compared to his. She looked so much healthier than his Y/n, and he could understand the appeal. The vulnerability. The humanity she represented.

A movement at the treeline caught his attention—a flash of white, there and gone so quickly it might have been imagination. But Omni knew better. His enhanced vision had captured the distinctive white uniform of Viltrumite Mark, watching from the shadows of the forest, a predator biding his time.

Interesting, Omni thought. So the old man isn't out destroying cities with the others. He's keeping watch.

The realization shifted his mental calculations. If Viltrumite was this invested already, the dynamics between the eight of them would grow even more complicated than anticipated. Another contender for Y/N's attention. Another threat to manage.

A particularly violent crash from outside drew his attention back to the fight. Sinister had Mohawk pinned against a massive pine, one hand wrapped around his throat while the other formed into something like a blade, poised to plunge into Mohawk's chest. Sinister's face was a mask of ecstasy, as if Mohawk's suffering was the sweetest nectar.

"Enough!" Omni commanded, his voice carrying effortlessly across the clearing, echoing through the trees with supernatural projection.

Both combatants froze, their heads turning in unison toward the cabin. Sinister's face was split in a rictus of joy, dark red leaking from a cut on his cheek, his black and yellow suit torn in places to reveal unnaturally pale skin beneath. Mohawk looked worse for wear, his mohawk completely flattened, one eye swollen shut, blood streaming from his nose and split lip, but still burning with defiance.

"He started it," Sinister whined, not loosening his grip on Mohawk's throat. His blade-hand hovered centimeters from Mohawk's chest, trembling slightly with restrained violence.

"And I'm ending it," Omni replied coldly, stepping through the ragged hole in the cabin wall. "Release him. Now." The command brooked no argument, delivered with the absolute authority of someone accustomed to having his every word obeyed.

For a moment, it seemed Sinister might refuse—might drive that blade-hand into Mohawk's chest just to prove he could, consequences be damned. But something in Omni's stance, in the quiet certainty of his command, made even Sinister hesitate.

With visible reluctance, he lowered Mohawk to the ground and stepped back, his suit rippling with barely contained violence. The blade melted back into a hand, though the fingers remained unnaturally elongated, twitching with bloodlust.

"Spoilsport," he muttered, but the killing edge had faded from his voice, replaced with childish petulance.

Mohawk massaged his throat, spitting a glob of blood onto the forest floor. The crimson splatter stood out stark against the loamy earth, a testament to the violence that always seemed to follow in their wake. "This isn't fucking over," he promised Sinister, already pushing himself upright despite his injuries, his battered pride more wounded than his body.

"I certainly hope not," Sinister replied with a wink that somehow managed to be both flirtatious and threatening. "I was just getting started." He licked his lips, tasting Mohawk's blood that had splattered there, savoring it like fine wine.

Omni stepped fully through the broken wall, moving to stand between them once more. "We need to establish some ground rules," he stated firmly. 

"This childish territorial behavior stops now. We have a mission—first, we already removed Y/N's collar without killing her, now when she walks we can use her to access GDA's central database through the broken remains." His tone was that of a general outlining a battle plan, brooking no argument.

"And after?" Mohawk demanded, his gaze darting between Omni and the cabin where Y/N still lay unconscious. Blood dripped from his chin, spattering his blue and black suit, but he seemed not to notice, all his focus on Y/N's fate.

A slight smile curved Omni's lips. "After, we'll discuss arrangements. But for now—" He turned to face the treeline directly, raising his voice slightly. "Why don't you join us, Viltrumite? Lurking in shadows doesn't suit a man of your... stature."

A tense silence followed, broken only by the sounds of forest wildlife beginning their morning routines, oblivious to the godlike beings in their midst. Then, with deliberate slowness, a figure emerged from between the ancient pines.

Viltrumite Mark moved with the confidence of someone who had never known true defeat. His white uniform gleamed in the early morning light, pristine despite the forest surroundings, the material somehow repelling even the morning dew. Unlike the others, who wore their power like a threat or a shield, Viltrumite carried his like birthright—unquestioned, absolute. His posture was military-straight, chin raised in perpetual superiority, eyes cold and assessing beneath hooded lids.

"Omni," he acknowledged with a slight inclination of his head. His eyes flicked dismissively over Mohawk and Sinister before returning to Omni. "I see your babysitting duties are keeping you occupied." There was just the faintest curl of contempt in his tone, the barest hint of a sneer playing at the corner of his mouth.

Sinister hissed, the sound more reptilian than human, his suit rippling in response to his agitation. Mohawk's fists clenched at his sides, knuckles cracking loudly, fresh blood welling from his split knuckles.

"Merely maintaining order," Omni replied smoothly, unruffled by the implied slight. "Though I'm curious why you're here instead of razing cities on this planet with the others." His tone was conversational, but his stance had shifted subtly—more alert, ready for whatever came next.

Viltrumite's expression remained impassive, but something calculating flickered in his eyes. "Emperor and Prisoner were enthusiastic enough for all of us. I thought my time might be better spent... observing." He glanced toward the cabin, and though his face revealed nothing, his eyes lingered just a fraction too long on the gap in the wall where Y/N's unconscious form was just visible on the bed inside.

"Spying, you mean," Mohawk accused bluntly, wiping blood from his chin with the back of his hand. The morning light caught the scarlet smear, making it gleam wetly against his skin. "You're not fooling anyone with your superior act, old man."

Viltrumite barely spared him a glance, regarding him with the casual disdain one might show an insect. "Call it what you will. I prefer to know what pieces are in play before committing to a strategy." The way he stood—perfectly still, unnaturally composed—made him seem more like a statue than a living being, save for the calculating intelligence that burned behind his eyes.

"Pieces?" Mohawk's voice rose dangerously, his battered face contorting with fresh rage. The blood vessels in his neck stood out like ropes as he took a threatening step forward. "She's not a fucking chess piece, she's—"

"A resource," Viltrumite cut him off coldly, finally deigning to look directly at Mohawk. "One we need alive and cooperative. Your emotional attachment is..." His lip curled slightly, the first real expression to crack his marble façade. "Inefficient."

Before Mohawk could launch himself at yet another Mark, a faint sound from inside the cabin froze them all—a soft moan, barely audible, but to their enhanced hearing, it might as well have been a thunderclap.

As one, they turned toward the cabin, all pretense of disinterest abandoned. Even Viltrumite's carefully maintained indifference cracked, something hungry flashing across his features before he could suppress it—and beneath that hunger, something softer, almost vulnerable, that vanished so quickly it might have been a trick of the morning light.

"She's waking up," Sinister breathed, his voice dropping to an almost reverent whisper. The manic energy that typically animated his every movement stilled suddenly, replaced by an intense focus that was somehow more disturbing than his usual chaos.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then, as if released from a starting gate, all four marks surged toward the cabin—Mohawk and Sinister actually colliding in their haste to be first through the broken wall, Omni and Viltrumite close behind, their usual dignity forgotten in their eagerness to witness Y/N's awakening.

Inside, Y/N's eyelids fluttered, her breathing pattern changing as consciousness began to return. Her fingers twitched against the sheets, her head turning slightly on the pillow as awareness slowly filtered back. A grimace of pain crossed her features even before her eyes fluttered open, her body registering the damage before her mind fully awakened.

Mohawk shoved past Sinister, reaching the bedside first by mere inches. He dropped to his knees beside her, his expression a complex mixture of hope, fear, and naked longing that would have shocked anyone who knew only his brash exterior. Blood still dripped from his injuries, but he seemed entirely unaware of his own condition, all his attention focused on Y/N's awakening.

"Y/N?" he whispered, his normally abrasive voice gentled to something almost tender. The transformation was jarring—like watching a hurricane suddenly calm to a gentle breeze. "Can you hear me?"

Sinister crowded in beside him, his grin feral with anticipation. "Wake up, little one," he crooned, the sound somehow both soothing and deeply unsettling, like a lullaby sung by a demon. His hand hovered just above her cheek, not quite touching, as if savoring the moment before contact. "We have so much to discuss."

Omni and Viltrumite maintained a slight distance, both too controlled to show the same naked eagerness as the others, but their intensity was no less palpable. Omni's hands were clasped behind his back so tightly his knuckles had whitened, the only visible sign of his internal struggle. His eyes never left Y/N's face, cataloging every flicker of expression, every micro-movement as consciousness returned.

Viltrumite stood perfectly still, his breathing barely perceptible, yet there was an almost palpable aura of anticipation surrounding him. The usual cold superiority in his eyes had warmed to something more complex—a mixture of calculation, desire, and proprietary interest that transformed his entire demeanor.

The small cabin seemed to shrink around them, the air growing thick with tension and expectation. The morning light spilling through the gaps in the walls caught dust motes dancing in the air, creating an almost surreal atmosphere around the tableau of identical men gathered around the bed.

Y/N's eyes opened fully at last, unfocused at first, blinking rapidly against the light. A soft whimper of pain escaped her as she tried to move, her body clearly registering the full extent of her injuries from the previous day's battle. Bruises blossomed across her visible skin in violent purples and yellows, and dried blood matted a section of her hair where she'd taken a particularly brutal hit.

Her gaze slowly focused on the impossible sight before her—four identical faces with wildly different expressions, all staring down at her with varying degrees of possession and hunger.

Her lips parted, and the four Marks leaned forward slightly, each desperate to hear her first words in this strange new reality they'd thrust her into.

"What..." Her voice emerged hoarse, rusty from disuse and the trauma of the collar. She swallowed painfully, wincing as the motion irritated the raw skin of her neck, her hand instinctively rising to touch the injury before falling back weakly to the bed. "What the fuck is going on?"

Mohawk's face split into a genuine grin, a bark of laughter escaping him that seemed to contain equal parts relief and delight. "That's my girl," he said softly, the possessive pronoun slipping out before he could stop it. His smile faltered slightly as he realized his mistake, but the pride in his eyes remained undimmed.

Y/N's eyes narrowed, focusing specifically on him. She tried to push herself up on her elbows but collapsed back with a hiss of pain, her muscles trembling with the effort. Recognition flickered across her features—not of him personally, but of the situation, memories rushing back in a disorienting flood.

"You," she managed, her voice strengthening slightly despite the raw pain evident in every syllable. "All of you. The bridge. The fighting." Her eyes immediately widened, her hand rose with more strength this time, instinctively to her neck, fingers tracing the burn left by the collar. Every movement was clearly agonizing, her body a map of pain from the confrontation. "You took me."

"Rescued," Viltrumite corrected smoothly, stepping closer. His white uniform caught the light, creating an almost halo-like effect that contrasted sharply with the cold authority in his voice. "The term is rescued, my dear." The endearment sounded strange coming from him—formal, archaic, yet undeniably possessive.

Y/N's gaze shifted to him, taking in the white uniform, the authoritative stance. Her breath caught momentarily, a flash of something like recognition crossing her features, but not the kind any of them hoped for—this was recognition of danger, of power unchecked by conscience. She shrank back against the pillows, her body language screaming distrust despite her weakened state.

"Kidnapped," she countered, voice firm despite her obvious weakness. Every word seemed to cost her, but her eyes blazed with defiance.

"The term is fucking kidnapped." She attempted once more to sit up, her face contorting with pain as her abused muscles protested.

Omni made an aborted movement toward her, his hand extending slightly before he caught himself and resumed his rigid posture. The brief slip in his composure did not go unnoticed by the others—Sinister's grin widened knowingly, and Viltrumite's eyes narrowed with calculation.

Sinister laughed delightedly, clapping his hands together like a child at a particularly entertaining show. "Oh, she has spirit! I like this one even more now." His eyes gleamed with manic enthusiasm, his entire body vibrating with barely contained energy. "So much more fun when they fight back."

Y/N struggled again to sit up, her muscles protesting after hours of unconsciousness and the brutal beating she'd endured. Sweat beaded on her forehead from the effort, her teeth gritted against the pain that clearly radiated through every limb. Mohawk moved to help her, but she flinched away from his touch, eyes wide with distrust.

"Don't," she warned, the single syllable sharp with fear and determination. Her hand raised weakly in a warding gesture, trembling with the effort.

Mohawk froze, his hand suspended in midair, something raw and wounded flashing across his features before he could mask it. The rejection hit him visibly, like a physical blow, cracking through his usual bravado. He withdrew slowly, jaw clenching, shoulders hunching slightly inward in a defensive posture that betrayed his hurt.

"We're not going to hurt you," Omni said, his voice calm and reasonable—the voice of a man used to being believed. Yet beneath that reasonable tone lurked something else—concern, genuine and unexpected. His gaze lingered on her trembling form, on the visible evidence of her suffering, and something in his expression softened fractionally. "We need your help."

"My help?" Y/N repeated incredulously, looking from one Mark to the next. Her laugh was bitter, ending in a wince as the movement jarred her injured ribs. "You killed people. I saw you. On the bridge, in the city." Her voice rose slightly, cracking with emotion. "You're monsters."

Sinister preened at this, as if she'd paid him a compliment, running his hands down his suit in a gesture of mock modesty. "You flatter me, darling." His tongue flicked out, unnaturally long, wetting his lips in a gesture that was deliberately provocative.

Viltrumite's expression remained impassive, not bothering to deny or justify the slaughter. In his world, such casualties were beneath notice, unworthy of acknowledgment.

Omni had the grace to look slightly troubled, a frown creasing his brow momentarily before his face smoothed back to careful neutrality. "Regrettable but necessary casualties," he said, the words practiced, as if recited from a script he'd used many times before.

But it was Mohawk's reaction that caught her attention—a flinch, subtle but unmistakable, as if her words had struck a physical blow. His eyes dropped, unable to meet her accusing gaze. "Not all of us," he muttered, not meeting her eyes. "Some of us just... got caught up in the wrong crowd." The excuse sounded hollow even to his own ears, his usual swagger entirely absent.

Sinister snorted derisively, the sound oddly wet and inhuman. "Please. You tore through groups of civilians like tissue paper, laughing. Don't pretend you're any better than the rest of us." His grin was knife-sharp, delighting in exposing Mohawk's hypocrisy. "I still remember that mother and child—how you separated them with one punch. Such beautiful screams."

"At least I'm not proud of it," Mohawk shot back, eyes still fixed on Y/N's face, drinking in her features with desperate intensity. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, yearning to reach for her yet respecting the boundary she'd established.

Y/N pushed herself further up against the headboard, each movement a study in agony, her face pale and drawn with pain and shock. She tried to put as much distance between herself and the four identical men as the small bed would allow. Her eyes darted between them, calculating, assessing—looking for weaknesses, for differences, for any advantage she might use.

"Why me?" she finally asked, her voice steadier now despite the rasp. One hand cradled her ribs protectively, while the other braced against the headboard for support. "What do you want?"

The four Marks exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them—perhaps the first moment of genuine unity since they'd arrived in this universe.

"First we wanted more universes for ourselves, but now. We need her to access data from the broken collar remains," Omni explained, gesturing toward her neck, then to his hand where he was holding the torn piece of metal. "It contains access codes to the GDA's central database. Information we need. I believe you can only access it." His tone was businesslike, but his eyes lingered on the angry burns circling her throat with an expression that might almost have been a concern.

Y/N's hand flew to her neck again, fingertips tracing the raised, angry flesh where the metal had burned her. "This? T-that was a security measure! It doesn't hold anything–! " Disbelief colored her voice as she explored the extent of the damage, wincing as her fingers encountered particularly sensitive areas.

"One they were willing to let kill you rather than have it fall into the wrong hands," Viltrumite added, his voice carrying a note of genuine disgust. "Humans. Always ready to sacrifice their own." Despite his contemptuous words, there was something almost protective in his stance as he watched her—the tension in his shoulders, the slight forward tilt of his body, as if ready to catch her should she fall.

Something flashed in Y/N's eyes at his dismissive tone—a spark of defiance, of anger cutting through the pain and fear. "And what would you know about sacrifice? You're not even from this universe." Each word was delivered with precision despite her weakened state, targeting Viltrumite's obvious superiority complex.

Viltrumite's carefully controlled expression slipped for just a moment, revealing something ancient and pained beneath—a wound so deep and well-guarded that its brief exposure was shocking. "More than you might imagine," he said softly, surprising even himself with the admission. For just an instant, the marble façade cracked, revealing a glimpse of the man beneath the imperial bearing.

The atmosphere in the cabin shifted subtly, charged with unspoken histories. Outside, the forest had fully awakened, birds calling to each other in the morning light that streamed through the broken wall and shattered window, creating a surreal backdrop to the tense scene within.

Y/N looked between them again, her gaze settling on each Mark in turn, noting the differences in their expressions, their postures, the way they carried themselves despite wearing the same face. Her analytical scrutiny was impressive given her condition—strength of mind persisting despite her body's weakness.

"So what happens now?" she asked, her voice carrying a forced calm, but the tremor in her hands betrayed her fear. A light sheen of sweat covered her forehead from the effort of remaining upright, her breathing shallow and carefully controlled to minimize the pain in her ribs. "You removed my collar, going to get your information, and then what? Kill me? Let me go?"

"Kill you?" Mohawk looked genuinely horrified at the suggestion, recoiling physically as if she'd struck him. "No one's fucking killing you." The words burst from him with such raw sincerity that even Sinister's mocking grin faltered momentarily.

"We wouldn't waste such a valuable resource," Viltrumite stated pragmatically, earning a murderous glare from Mohawk. His choice of words was deliberately cold, but there was something in his eyes that contradicted his tone—a possessiveness that went beyond mere utility.

"What my less eloquent companions are trying to say," Omni interjected smoothly, stepping forward slightly, "is that your welfare is of concern to us." His voice was measured, reasonable—the voice of a negotiator, a leader. Yet beneath that calm exterior, something protective lurked, evident in the way his eyes continually assessed her injuries, cataloging each wince, each labored breath.

Sinister's grin widened impossibly. "Some more than others," he purred, eyes glittering with malicious amusement. He circled behind Mohawk, moving with that unnatural fluid grace, like a predator stalking its prey. "Our Mohawk here knew another you in his universe. She died. Very tragic. He's been crying about it for... how long has it been now? Eighteen months, two weeks, and four days?" The precise count was designed to wound, and it found its mark perfectly.

"Shut the fuck up," Mohawk snarled, half-rising from his position beside the bed. His fists clenched so tightly that fresh blood welled between his knuckles, dripping unnoticed to the rough wooden floor.

Y/N's eyes widened, her gaze fixing on Mohawk with new understanding. The pain of her physical injuries momentarily forgotten in the face of this revelation. "Is that true?" Her voice had softened slightly, the first hint of something other than fear or defiance entering her tone.

Mohawk looked away, unable to meet her eyes, the vulnerability in his expression a stark contrast to his aggressive posture. The usually arrogant set of his shoulders slumped, his mohawk seeming to droop along with his spirits. "It's complicated." The words were barely audible, forced through a throat tight with suppressed emotion.

"Oh, it's not complicated at all," Sinister continued, reveling in the discomfort he was causing. He circled behind Mohawk like a predator stalking wounded prey, his movements fluid and unnatural—too smooth to be human because he wasn't, he was a god in his eyes. The black portions of his suit seemed to absorb what little light touched them, creating shifting shadows that danced across his form. "She died in his arms. Blood everywhere. Very messy." His eyes gleamed with malicious delight, pupils dilating slightly at the memory of violence. "He's been a mess ever since. And now he thinks you're his second chance."

He leaned closer to Y/N, the temperature around him dropping several degrees as he moved. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, sweet as honey yet laced with poison. "He's not the only one with a history, though. We've all got our little... attachments."

The air in the cabin seemed to thicken with tension, dust motes frozen in the thin beams of sunlight breaking through the damaged walls. Y/N's labored breathing was painfully audible in the silence that followed.

"Enough," Omni commanded, steel beneath his reasonable tone. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, the only outward sign of the emotion roiling beneath his controlled exterior. His eyes flickered briefly to Y/N's form—noting how she struggled to stay upright, the way her arms trembled with the effort of supporting her weight, the shallow rise and fall of her chest as she tried to breathe through obvious pain. His fingers twitched at his sides, the urge to go to her, to support her battered body, to examine her injuries with his own hands nearly overwhelming his carefully maintained composure.

Y/N's gaze shifted to him, newly curious despite the pain etched into her features. Each movement sent fresh waves of agony through her battered form, yet her eyes remained sharp, analytical. "What does he mean?" Blood had dried in her hairline, and bruises in various stages of development created a map of violence across her visible skin. When she shifted, a barely suppressed whimper escaped her lips.

Omni maintained his stoic expression, but something flickered behind his eyes—a shadow of memory, grief carefully controlled and compartmentalized. His posture remained rigid, hands clasped behind his back so tightly his knuckles whitened. "It's irrelevant to our current situation." The words were clipped, precise, but lacked his usual authoritative conviction.

"Oh, I don't think it's irrelevant at all," Sinister crooned, moving like liquid shadow to circle behind Omni. His grin stretched wider than should have been physically possible, teeth gleaming unnaturally sharp in the dim light. "Tell her about your Y/N, Omni. The one who wasted away while you watched, helpless." His voice took on a sing-song quality, the cadence wrong, inhuman. "All your power, all your control, and you couldn't save her from something as simple as cancer. How your father watched you break, decided you were too weak, too emotional." His tongue flicked out, tasting the pain his words caused. "How you proved him wrong by ripping him apart."

Omni's jaw tightened further, a muscle jumping at his temple—the only visible sign of the rage building inside him. His red and gray suit seemed to darken with his mood, the shadows in the cabin deepening around him. "I said enough." The temperature in the cabin dropped several degrees with those three words.

But Y/N was looking at him differently now, seeing past the calm authority to something vulnerable beneath. Each breath clearly caused her pain, yet she leaned forward slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at her injured ribs. "You lost someone too," she said softly, not a question but a realization. Blood had crusted at the corner of her mouth, her lips cracked and dry.

"We all did," Viltrumite said unexpectedly, drawing everyone's attention. He stood perfectly still, his white uniform catching the morning light, making him appear almost luminous against the rustic backdrop of the cabin. His imperial bearing seemed at odds with the weathered walls around him, like a marble statue placed in a garden shed. "In different ways." His voice carried the weight of centuries, of losses cataloged and filed away but never truly forgotten.

Sinister's grin was practically predatory now, delighting in pulling back the curtain on each of their carefully guarded pasts. He bounced on the balls of his feet, the manic energy within him impossible to contain. "Oh yes, tell her your story, old man. About how daddy dearest killed your precious human pet when you tried to bring her into the empire." His voice dripped with false sympathy, each word carefully chosen to cause maximum damage.

Viltrumite's face remained impassive, but his eyes—those were different now, burning with a cold fury that made the temperature in the cabin seem to drop further. The frost in his gaze could have frozen oceans. "She wasn't a pet," he said, each word precise, controlled, yet containing the force of avalanches. "She was mine. And my father took her from me because she was human. Weak. Unworthy of the empire." His gaze fixed on Y/N with uncomfortable intensity, drinking in her features with possessive hunger. "But you're different. You have Viltrumite blood, however diluted. You're stronger. You could survive."

Y/N stared at him, a chill running down her spine at the implication in his words. She tried to push herself further upright but collapsed back with a pained gasp, her body simply too damaged to obey her commands. Sweat beaded on her forehead from the effort, her skin ashen beneath the bruises and dirt. "Survive what?" The question emerged as little more than a whisper, her throat raw from the collar's damage.

"The empire, of course," Viltrumite answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His posture shifted almost imperceptibly, leaning toward her like a planet drawn to a sun. "Where you belong. At my side." The possessiveness in his tone was absolute, brooking no argument or alternative.

"That's not happening," Mohawk growled, shoving himself between Y/N and Viltrumite. His mohawk seemed to bristle with his rising anger, like the hackles of a threatened animal. He bared his teeth in a feral snarl, blood still dripping from his split lip, giving him a savage appearance. "She's not going anywhere with you." Despite his aggressive stance, when he glanced back at Y/N, his expression softened momentarily, eyes lingering on her injuries with poorly disguised concern.

"She's not going anywhere with any of you," a new voice interrupted, and all heads turned toward the broken wall.

Phantom Mark stood there, his translucent suit catching the light in eerie, otherworldly patterns that seemed to bend reality around him. Unlike the others, his expression was solemn, almost sad, as he surveyed the scene before him. His eyes lingered on Y/N's battered form, something like regret flickering across his features before it was swiftly buried.

"The others are coming back," he announced, his voice echoing slightly as though coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. "Emperor and No-Mask have finished their fun in the city." His lip curled slightly at the word 'fun,' a brief flash of disapproval breaking through his ghostly demeanor. "Prisoner is on his way too."

Sinister clapped his hands together with childish glee, the sound unnaturally sharp in the tense atmosphere. His entire body vibrated with excitement, the black portions of his suit rippling in response. "Oh, the gang's all here! This should be interesting." He rubbed his hands together, the motion too quick, too eager—a child anticipating a particularly enjoyable game.

Y/N's face had gone pale, her eyes fixed on Phantom, the little color that remained draining from her cheeks. Her breathing quickened, pulling painfully at her damaged ribs, each inhalation a struggle. "How many cities did you destroy?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it cut through the cabin like a blade.

Phantom had the grace to look away, unable to meet her accusatory gaze. The translucent portions of his suit seemed to dim, absorbing rather than reflecting the morning light that tried to touch it. "Enough." The single word carried a weight of unspoken justifications and buried guilt.

"Enough?" she repeated, her voice rising with incredulity despite the pain it clearly caused her. Her hands clenched in the rough blanket beneath her, knuckles whitening with the force of her grip. "People are dead because of you—all of you—and that's all you can say? 'Enough'?" Each word seemed to cost her, pain flashing across her features, yet her eyes blazed with righteous fury.

"Collateral damage," Viltrumite dismissed with a small wave of his hand, the gesture imperious, accustomed to wiping away concerns beneath his notice. His white uniform seemed to glow brighter in the shaft of sunlight that fell across him, creating an almost holy aura that contrasted sharply with the callousness of his words. "Inconsequential in the larger scheme."

"Inconsequential?" Y/N's voice cracked, rage and grief warring in her expression. She pushed herself upright despite the obvious agony it caused her, one arm wrapped protectively around her ribs, the other braced against the headboard for support. Blood had begun to seep through her shirt where wounds had reopened with her movement. "They were people! With families, with lives, with—"

"With an expiration date," Sinister cut in, his voice suddenly cold, all playfulness gone. His eyes darkened, pupils expanding until they nearly swallowed the irises. "All humans die, darling. Today, tomorrow, sixty years from now—what difference does it make? We just... accelerated the inevitable." He licked his lips slowly, savoring her reaction like a fine wine.

The casual cruelty of his statement hung in the air like poison, and something shifted in Y/N's expression—fear giving way to a different emotion entirely. Determination. Resolve. She straightened as much as her battered body would allow, a fresh trickle of blood making its way down her temple from a reopened wound.

"You're all monsters," she said again, but this time there was no fear in her voice, only certainty. The morning light caught in her eyes, igniting them with inner fire despite her physical weakness. "Every single one of you."

Mohawk winced, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. His shoulders hunched inward, his usual aggressive posture crumpling like paper. "Y/N, it's not—we're not all—" His voice cracked, unusual vulnerability breaking through his abrasive exterior. For a moment, the dangerous predator vanished, replaced by someone broken, desperate for understanding.

"Save it," she cut him off coldly, though her gaze lingered on him a moment longer than the others. "I don't care what version of you lost what version of me. I am not her. I will never be her. And I will never, ever help any of you after what you've done." Each declaration was punctuated by a labored breath, her body trembling with the effort of remaining upright, yet her resolve never wavered.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the distant sounds of forest life continuing on, oblivious to the drama unfolding within the cabin's walls. Y/N's ragged breathing seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness, each painful inhalation a reminder of her mortality among these godlike beings.

Then Sinister started to laugh—a low, dangerous sound that built steadily, filling the small space with malevolent mirth. The sound was wrong, inhuman, echoing in impossible ways. "Oh, you think you have a choice," he said when his laughter finally subsided, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "That's adorable." The word dripped with condescension and dark promise.

He moved toward her with preternatural speed, faster than the others could react. The black portions of his suit seemed to extend and flow as he moved, like living shadows eager for the kill. His hand shot out, grabbing her chin in a grip that was just shy of crushing, forcing her to look directly into his face. The contrast of his black glove against her skin made her appear even more fragile, more human.

"Let me tell you about my Y/N," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper that somehow carried to every corner of the room. His face was inches from hers, his breath caressing her skin like a poisonous fog. "She was human too. Fragile. Breakable. But she was mine, and I cherished her in my own way. Played with her. Sometimes too rough." His grin widened, showing too many teeth, sharp and gleaming in the dim light. "But she loved it. Or learned to. Until a hero decided to 'rescue' her from me."

His grip tightened slightly, and Y/N couldn't suppress a small sound of pain. Fresh bruises began forming under his fingers, blooming like dark flowers on her skin. "Know what happened then? This 'hero' killed her right in front of me. Said she was 'tainted' by her association with me. Too far gone to save. Put his hand right through her chest." Sinister mimicked the motion with his free hand, making a brutal tearing gesture that displaced the air with an audible whoosh. "That was the day I learned what I really was. What I was capable of." The black parts of his suit seemed to writhe with the memory, responding to his emotions like a living extension of his being.

"Let. Her. Go." Mohawk's voice was deadly quiet, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to release. The blue and black of his suit seemed to darken with his rage, the bruises on his face standing out in stark relief against his pale skin. His hands had formed into fists so tight that fresh blood welled between his knuckles, dripping unnoticed to the rough wooden floor.

Sinister ignored him, his eyes never leaving Y/N's. The pupils had expanded unnaturally beneath his black lenses, almost hypnotic in their intensity. "You think you know what monsters are? You haven't seen anything yet, darling. But you will. And you will help us, whether you want to or not. Because the alternative..." His voice trailed off, the threat clear in his gleaming eyes, his thumb brushing almost tenderly across her cheekbone, leaving a smear of blood in its wake.

"That's enough," Omni said, his voice carrying the weight of command. He took a step forward, red and gray suit catching the light differently now, seeming to absorb it rather than reflect it. The temperature around him dropped perceptibly, frost forming on the wooden floor where he stood. "Release her, Sinister. Now." Each word fell like a hammer blow, precise and devastating.

For a moment, it seemed Sinister might refuse. The black portions of his suit rippled with anticipation, reaching toward Y/N like hungry tentacles. Then, with deliberate slowness, he uncurled his fingers from Y/N's chin, leaving angry red marks that would soon bloom into bruises. His fingertips lingered a moment too long, trailing down her jaw with possessive intimacy.

"As you wish," he said with exaggerated courtesy, stepping back with a theatrical bow. "For now." The promise of later hung in the air between them, dark and inevitable.

Y/N's hand went to her chin, rubbing the sore spots where his fingers had dug in. Her eyes blazed with a mixture of fear and defiance as she looked around at the gathered Marks. Despite her obvious pain—the way her breath caught when she moved too quickly, the subtle tremor in her limbs from exhaustion and trauma—her spine remained straight, her gaze unwavering.

"I will never help you," she repeated, each word deliberate and clear despite her raw throat. Blood had begun to seep through the fabric at her side, her injuries reopening with each movement. "Not willingly."

"Then we'll have to persuade you," came another voice from the doorway, this one hard and imperious, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Emperor Mark stood there, resplendent in his yellow and blue-gray uniform, the very picture of regal authority. Sunlight caught on the golden accents of his suit, creating a corona around his imposing figure. His stance was wide, commanding, a ruler accustomed to immediate obedience. Behind him loomed No-Mask, his unmarked face a stark contrast to his blood-spattered uniform, eyes cold and distant, as if still seeing the destruction he'd left behind.

"Persuasion takes many forms," Emperor continued, stepping into the already crowded cabin with easy confidence. His boots left imprints in the wooden floor, such was the weight of his presence. His eyes settled on Y/N with the calculated interest of a collector assessing a rare acquisition. "Not all of them unpleasant."

"Some of them very pleasant indeed," Sinister added with a lascivious wink that made Y/N's skin crawl visibly. His tongue flicked out, unnaturally long, wetting his lips in a deliberately provocative gesture.

Mohawk growled low in his throat, positioning himself more firmly between Y/N and the newcomers. His mohawk stood in rigid spikes, as if electrified by his anger. Blood still dripped from his various wounds, but he seemed entirely unaware of his injuries, every sense focused on protecting the woman behind him. "Back off, Emperor. She's been through enough." His voice was rough gravel, yet beneath the hostility lay something almost tender when referring to Y/N.

Emperor looked down at him with thinly veiled contempt, one eyebrow arched in aristocratic disdain. The golden highlights of his uniform caught the light as he shifted, casting imperial patterns across the cabin's weathered walls. "Your attachment is clouding your judgment, Mohawk. This isn't about her comfort. It's about what we need." He spoke with the absolute certainty of one who had never been denied, each syllable weighted with unquestioned authority.

"And what we need," Omni interjected smoothly, stepping forward with calculated precision, "is her cooperation. Which we won't get through intimidation or coercion." The reasonable tone couldn't entirely mask the steel beneath his words. His eyes flickered to Y/N again, noting how the color had drained from her face, how each breath seemed to cost her. Something in his rigid posture softened minutely. "We can give you time. To adjust. To understand the situation. But make no mistake—one way or another, we will access the broken collar remains."

Y/N looked around at the seven Marks now crowding the small cabin, each wearing the same face but with wildly different expressions—from Sinister's malevolent glee to Mohawk's desperate protectiveness, from Emperor's cold calculation to Phantom's resigned sadness. The morning light caught different aspects of each of them—glinting off Emperor's golden accents, absorbed by the shadows of Sinister's suit, highlighting the blood still wet on No-Mask's uniform.

For the first time since waking, genuine fear flickered across her features, breaking through her defiant facade. One Mark she might have had a chance against. Two, possibly, if she was clever. But seven, with an eighth somewhere nearby? The odds were impossible. A tremor ran through her battered body, visible to all with their enhanced vision, a painful reminder of her humanity among these godlike beings.

"One day," she finally said, her voice quiet but firm despite the pain evident in every syllable. She swallowed hard, wincing as the motion aggravated her damaged throat, the burns from the collar angry and raw against her skin. "Give me one day to... process this. Then we'll talk about the collar."

The Marks exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them—calculation, consideration, desire—all focused on the battered woman before them.

"One day," Omni agreed, speaking for the group, his voice carrying the weight of a contract signed in blood. "Starting now."

Y/N nodded slowly, her movements careful, measured against the pain that clearly radiated through every fiber of her being. Her mind was visibly racing behind those defiant eyes, looking for angles, for weaknesses, for any possible way out of the impossible situation she found herself in. Despite her condition, there was a sharpness to her gaze that spoke of intelligence, of calculation beneath the pain.

"I'd like some privacy," she said, her voice stronger now, drawing on reserves of will that impressed even Viltrumite, whose eyes narrowed slightly with newfound appreciation. "And food, if you have any." Her hand pressed against her side where blood had begun to seep through her clothing, her face paling further with the movement.

"I'll get it," Mohawk volunteered instantly, eager for any excuse to be useful to her. His usual swagger was gone, replaced by an almost puppyish eagerness that would have been comical under other circumstances. He turned toward what passed for a kitchen area, moving with barely contained energy, casting frequent glances back at Y/N as if afraid she might disappear if he looked away too long.

"And I'll ensure she has privacy," Viltrumite stated in a tone that brooked no argument, positioning himself near the broken wall like a sentinel. His white uniform caught the sunlight streaming through the gaps, creating an almost ethereal glow around his imposing figure. His eyes never left Y/N, drinking in her features with possessive intensity. "No one approaches without my permission."

The others began to file out, each casting lingering glances at Y/N as they went—some calculating, some hungry, some almost sorrowful. Emperor's cape rustled as he turned, the sound of expensive fabric incongruous in the rustic cabin. No-Mask followed silently, his bloodstained hands flexing at his sides, eyes distant as if already contemplating further destruction. Phantom drifted toward the door, his translucent form seeming to merge with the morning light before solidifying again.

Only Sinister paused in the doorway, turning back with that too-wide grin that stretched the boundaries of what a human face should be capable of. The black portions of his suit seemed to reach toward Y/N, living shadows hungry for her touch. "Sweet dreams, darling," he crooned, voice honeyed poison. "I'll be seeing you... very soon." His tongue flicked out one last time before he melted into the shadows outside, his laughter lingering in the air like a bad smell.

When they had all gone except for Viltrumite standing guard at the perimeter and Mohawk rummaging through the cabin's sparse supplies, Y/N finally allowed herself to slump back against the pillows, exhaustion and fear catching up with her in a rush. A soft whimper escaped her lips as the movement jarred her injuries, the sound quickly stifled as she bit down hard on her lower lip. Blood welled from where her teeth had broken the skin, adding to the collection of wounds that mapped the violence visited upon her body.

One day. She had one day to figure out how to escape seven—no, eight—versions of the most powerful being on Earth, each with their own agenda, each seeing her as something to be possessed. Each wearing the face of someone who had once been her ally, her friend...perhaps more. The cruel irony wasn't lost on her even through the haze of pain that clouded her thoughts.

As Mohawk approached with a tin of what looked like soup and a relatively clean spoon, his expression so nakedly hopeful it would have been pitiful under other circumstances, Y/N made herself meet his eyes. She saw past the cocky exterior, the crude jokes and aggressive posturing, to the raw wound beneath—a man who had lost everything and saw in her face a second chance he knew he didn't deserve.

"Thank you," she said quietly, accepting the food, making sure their fingers didn't touch in the exchange. The simple act of holding the tin sent fresh waves of pain through her damaged muscles, but she refused to show weakness, gripping it with white-knuckled determination.

"Y/N," he began, his voice rough with emotion, nothing like his usual brash tones. His mohawk seemed to droop slightly, reflecting his uncertainty. Blood had dried in dark rivulets down his face, but he made no move to wipe it away, all his attention focused on her. "I know you're not her. I know that. But—"

"Don't," she cut him off gently, a softness in her tone that hadn't been there before. Despite everything, there was something in his naked vulnerability that touched her. "Please. Not now." The unspoken 'maybe later' hung between them, a crumb of hope she wasn't sure she meant to offer.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly, nodding jerkily. "Right. Yeah. You need space. I get it." He backed away, his movements awkward, uncertain, so different from the confident swagger he'd shown earlier. The blue and black of his suit seemed dimmer somehow, reflecting his dejected mood. "I'll just... I'll be outside if you need anything." The offer was sincere, his eyes lingering on her injuries with genuine concern before he turned away.

When he was gone, Y/N looked down at the tin of soup in her hands, the thin broth rippling with the tremors she could no longer control. Her gaze traveled around the cabin's interior—the rough-hewn walls, the broken furniture, the splinters and debris from the damaged door and wall—before settling on Viltrumite's back where he stood watch, his white uniform pristine against the forest backdrop, giving her the illusion of privacy while missing nothing.

One day. One chance.

She began to eat, methodically, mechanically, each swallow painful against her damaged throat, but necessary. Building her strength for whatever came next. The food was tasteless in her mouth, but she forced herself to continue, knowing she would need every ounce of energy she could muster.

Through the broken window, she could see slivers of the forest beyond, the sunlight dappling through ancient trees, birds flying free overhead, the promise of freedom so close and yet impossibly far away. The contrast between the peaceful wilderness and her desperate situation created a surreal dissonance that made her head swim.

Somewhere out there, seven Marks were waiting, planning, wanting. Patient predators circling their wounded prey. And she was trapped in the center of their web, a prize none of them were willing to relinquish.

One day to find a way out.

The sound of the forest continued undisturbed—birds calling, leaves rustling, life proceeding as it always had—indifferent to the cosmic drama unfolding within the cabin's broken walls. Y/N closed her eyes briefly, gathering her resolve like armor around her battered spirit.

The clock was ticking.

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☆ Next chapter is going to be instance, perhaps a first kiss ♡ ♡ ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

☆ It's crazy, how writer's block hasn't hit me yet (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

♡ Pt.4 ♡

Pt.1 Pt.2 ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-ꕤ.ﾟ Pt.5

[helenofsparta2]

Having the whole plot between Nico and Percy be resolved simply with “You’re not my type” in Blood of Olympus was such a huge disservice to both characters

They are pivotal parts to each others journey. No person in PJO influenced Nico as much as Percy did, aside from Bianca, and no person represents Percy’s guilt and the responsibility he had to shoulder more than Nico does. The writing for both characters really suffers through this lack of a real satisfying resolution.

First to talk about what Percy represents for Nico:

Percy, first of all, represents Nico’s introduction to the mythological world

He is the first demigod Nico ever came in contact with

He saved him and Bianca from the manticore (somewhat)

Nico stated in Blood of Olympus than Percy had reminded of the heroes of his mythomagic game come to life

Nico wholeheartedly believed that Bianca would be safe, if Percy was with her and created this image of the perfect hero in his mind, putting Percy on a pedestal

2.

In Nico’s mind Percy is irrevocably intertwined with Bianca and everything that happened to her

Despite Nico naively believing, that Bianca would be safe if Percy were around, he was instead the last person to ever talk to her, and present when she died

Percy informed Nico of her death (Dead silence. I stared at Chiron. I couldn’t believe nobody had told him yet. Then I realized why. They’d been waiting for us to appear, to tell Nico in person, Titan’s curse)

Nico turned him into the scapegoat for her death, so that he could let all his grief and anger and bitterness out on him

Bianca sent Iris-messages to Percy, so that he would find and help Nico (“Percy has been worried about you, Nico. He can help. I let him see what you were up to, hoping he would find you.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Her ghost only appeared to Nico when Percy was with him

Percy is the only person Nico knows of, who also grieved for Bianca (“Bianca,” I said. My voice was thick. I’d felt guilty about her death for a long time but seeing her in front of me was five times as bad, like her death was fresh and new. I remembered searching through the wreckage of the giant bronze warrior she’d sacrificed her life to defeat, and not finding any sign of her. “I’m so sorry,” I said. Battle of the Labyrinth)

3.

Percy is the person who protected and cared for Nico more than anyone else in pjo

Tried to convince Bianca to think more deeply about her decision of joining the hunters, especially thinking of him (“Biance, this is crazy,” I said. “What about your brother? Nico can’t be a hunter.” (Titan’s curse)

Searched the woods in the dark for hours after he had disappeared (Annabeth and Grover helped me search the woods for hours, but there was no sign of Nico di Angelo.)

Didn’t tell Chiron about Nico’s parentage to protect him from the Gods. (I don't think Nico understands who he is. But we can't go telling anyone. Not even Chiron. If the Olympians find out—") Titan’s curse)

Decided to completely commit to the prophecy, solely so Nico didn’t have to bear that burden and go trough any more suffering(It was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't say that. I knew I had to step up and claim it. "I can't let Nico be in any more danger," I said. "I owe that much to his sister. I… let them both down. I'm not going to let that poor kid suffer any more." ) Titan’s curse)

Searched for Nico in the months after Titan’s Curse (Now, six months later, I hadn’t even come close to finding him. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. Battle of the labyrinth, chapter 3))

Saved his life on Geryon’s farm. (“Either way, you get my friends,” I said. “But, if I succeed, you’ve got to let all of us go, including Nico.”)

Always offered Nico a place at camp half-blood to the best of his abilities (“We missed you at dinner,” I said. “You could’ve sat with me.”“No.”“Nico, you can’t miss every meal. If you don’t want to stay with Hermes, maybe they can make an exception and put you in the big house. They’ve got plenty of room.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Invited him to join him on his birthday (“Is that… is that blue birthday cake?”He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. I wondered if the poor kid had ever had a birthday party, or if he’d ever been invited to one. “Come inside for cake and ice cream,” I said. “It sounds like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Reminded him that he was still a child (I smiled. “Maybe it’s okay to still be a kid once in a while.” I tossed him the statue, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Helped him to get the sword of hades back to impress his father (Then I looked at Nico. Unfortunately, I recognised the expression on his face. I knew what it was like wanting to make your dad proud, even if your dad was hard to love., Sword of hades)

Acknowledged everything Nico did in The last Olympian and is one of the main reasons why Hades has a cabin at camp. ( “But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that.”)

4.

Percy was Nico’s first, and after Will, his biggest love

Nico had feelings for Percy, which didn’t leave him for around 2 1/2 years, and accompanied him throughout the most challenging parts of his life. 

Feelings, which were so deep, the god of love personally acknowledged them.

Favonius even called Percy, the person Nico cares about most in House of Hades.

This was more than just a mere crush

Percy is so completely intertwined with most aspects of Nico’s character arc, in both PJO and Hoo, be it his feeling of ostracism, his relationship to Bianca or him coming to term with his own sexuality, that them not having a final interaction, makes his writing feel shallow and unfinished. Especially Nico coming to terms with his crush on Percy opens up the opportunity for a really heartwarming conversation and a moment of character growth and maturity for both of them, instead of it being wasted on one throw-away line.

And it’s the same the other way around. Nico is also a huge part of Percy’s journey.

He especially represents Percy’s biggest failure.

The first five Percy Jackson books are characterized by Percy having to take up responsibility and him being afraid of not being able to fulfill them. Be it responsibility for camp, the world, Bianca’s death, the prophecy, his friends, teh unclaimed demigods, or everything else. Most of the time, Percy was able to make sure everything turned out fine. He saved camp, he saved Olympus, he finished his quests, made the right decision for the prophecy, and he made the gods swear upon teh styx. But there’s one exception. And that is Nico.

Percy did everything in his power to make sure Nico would be spared any more hardships. He took up the burden of the prophecy, explicitly, so that Nico doesn’t have to go through any more hardships

He searched for him after Titan’s curse, kept his identity a secret and even risked himself, Annabeth, Grover and Tyson dying if it meant saving Nico

Still, Nico is one of the characters, if not the character, who has suffered the most in PJO and Hoo, even partly because of Percy (though, of course, Nico having a crush on him was not Percy’s fault at all)

He lived alone at 11 years old on the streets and in the labyrinth, while getting manipulated by an ancient evil spirit

He was isolated and ostracized at camp half-blood

He experienced the horrors of Tartarus completely on his own

He got captured by the giants and slowly suffocated to death in a small jar

He had to deal with internalized homophobia and his complicated feelings regarding Percy

He has been a vital part of two wars at only 15 years old

Had to admit his crush involuntarily in front of Jason, etc.  

One of the things Percy battles with in Heroes of Olympus is this overwhelming sense of guilt. He blames himself for almost everything that went wrong over the last few years. Be it for Iapetus, Calypso, or especially Nico. Having Percy acknowledge this complicated relationship he has with him during House of Hades, but not allowing the two of them to talk it out is genuinely baffling to me, and one of the (albeit many) reasons why I really don’t like most of Percy’s writing during Heroes of Olympus, despite the fact that he is my favourite character by far. This could have led to a moment of character growth, where Nico helps Percy to aknowledge that he feels guilty for things he had little to no control over, while Nico himself realizes how important he actually is to Percy.

They are also so similar in terms of who they are and what they’ve been through, that even if you ignore their history with each other, it seems insane, that they didn’t interact in any meaningful way:  

Both were ostracized at camp half-blood because of their parentage, and so far are the only two half-bloods we know of with that experience

They are (together with Hazel) the most powerful demigods in the Riordan verse, and have feats which far surpass anyone else’s

Both are in some way afraid of their powers

Both went through Tartarus

Both have relatively similar relationships to their godly parents

Both have gone through immense trauma and loss

And if you read heroes of Olympus, it actually very much seems to build towards a final resolution of their relationship

Percy and Nico were, aside from Frank, the two people closest to Hazel; both saw her as a little sister, and Hazel treated them both like her brothers

Nico was the first person Percy met from his old life

Percy was the one, who received the visions of Nico being captured

From everyone present, Percy trusted Nico to lead the others to Greece in his moment of greatest desperation

They both had introspections about the other in house of Hades, Nico having to deal with his crush and Percy with his guilt in Tartarus

But, in the end, after they met again, nothing happened. The only scene we really got was the “You’re not my type” line and Percy being surprised by it for a couple seconds. That’s it.

We saw no meaningful conversation between the two of them, no acknowledgement of what they’ve been through together, no lasting feelings. Nothing.

In regards to their relationship, Percy acknowledging everything that Nico has been through led to nothing. Nico acknowledging his feelings for Percy and finally letting go of this pedestal he had placed him on led to nothing. You could argue that their entire relationship, which has been built up since Titan’s curse led to nothing. And considering that they are so important characters for each of their character arcs, their characterization very much suffers from this writing decision.

The two of them, together with Hazel, are my three favourite Riordan verse characters by a long shot, but some very important aspects of both of their characters fall so flat to me through this lack of a satisfying resolution.

 Both of them deserved so much better.  

They are the friendship with the most missed potential in the entirety of the Riordan verse and probably the most fleshed out and nuanced relationship Rick ever wrote.

R.I.P.  Nico di Angelo, and Percy Jackson, you will always be brothers in my mind.

[scarluna]

Thoughts of You - I am able to breathe again.

Y/N starts work as a client agent at a big corporate company. There, she meets Jungkook, a man who confuses the hell out of her.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, fuckboy jungkook, insecurities, smoking

Chapter available: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Chapters: 5 / 5

Chapter Warnings: mature language, a little sexual tension

A/N: OKAY. After all of your sweet comments I decided to get closure for myself so I talked with the dude. And here is the OFFICIAL ENDING of TOY. Enjoy. x

The next morning, Y/N walked into the office with her walls firmly back in place.

Headphones in.

Eyes forward.

No stops at the break room. No casual glances around to see where he might be.

She took her seat like a shadow—silent, unbothered, unreachable.

Jungkook arrived not long after. She felt him before she saw him, like some shift in the atmosphere. But she kept her eyes glued to her screen, even as he dropped into the seat next to her.

“Hey,” he said, nudging his chair closer. “You good?”

“Fine,” she replied. One word. No glance.

He paused. Looked at her. Waited.

She didn’t offer more.

He tapped his pen restlessly, shifting in his seat. “You’re being weird.”

Y/N didn’t respond.

After a beat, he leaned in slightly, keeping his voice low. “I swear, I can’t tell when you’re in the mood to talk or when you’re gonna burn the building down.”

She let out a dry chuckle—humorless, sharp. “Maybe I’m just crazy.”

That made him freeze.

He looked at her then, really looked at her. But she didn’t meet his eyes. Her gaze stayed locked on her screen, fingers poised above her keyboard, body tense like a trap ready to spring.

She didn’t say anything else.

Didn’t need to.

The sentence hung between them, heavier than it had any right to be. Maybe I’m just crazy. What she really meant: maybe I’m too much. Maybe I’m not worth the effort. Maybe you confirmed every worst thought I’ve had about myself.

Jungkook sat back slowly, and for the first time, he didn’t have a clever comeback. Didn’t try to fill the silence.

He just sat there.

And then—by lunchtime, he was gone.

No messages. No comments. No smoke break.

Just… gone.

The same the next day.

No Jungkook.

No teasing. No tension. No emotional whiplash.

And surprisingly?

The quiet was nice.

Y/N didn’t realize how loud his presence had become until it disappeared. How much of her brain he occupied. How much effort it took to pretend she wasn’t affected every time he cracked a joke or let his eyes linger too long.

Without him, everything felt lighter. Like the office had taken a breath. Like she could finally breathe.

She didn’t miss the way the others looked around, noticing the absence too. But no one asked. No one said anything.

And neither did she.

Because for those two days, peace felt better than possibility.

-

Jungkook returned to the office two days later, the usual buzz returning with him.

Y/N didn’t react when he walked in.

She was already seated, eyes on her monitor, her expression unreadable. Her hoodie sleeves were pulled over her palms again—a quiet tell only those who really knew her would catch.

Not that he noticed.

Or maybe he did. But if so, he didn’t show it.

The others greeted him casually as he dropped his bag onto his desk and slouched back into his chair, the image of nonchalance. His hair was a little messy, dark circles slightly more prominent than usual.

“Yo,” Taehyun called as he passed by, “Where the hell you been, man?”

Mina glanced over too, grinning. “Yeah, we thought you quit or died or something.”

Jungkook snorted. “Nah. Just the hospital.”

Their expressions shifted—half curious, half concerned.

“What, you sick?” Taehyun asked, pausing beside his chair.

Jungkook shook his head, pulling out his water bottle and twisting the cap. “Nah. Went to donate blood. A friend’s relative needed it.”

“Oh,” Mina blinked. “Damn. That’s actually… really nice of you.”

He shrugged. “Not that deep.”

The moment the word hospital left his mouth, Y/N stood up.

Not out of concern.

Not out of interest.

Just—timing.

Perfect, careless timing.

She grabbed her lanyard off the desk with a single flick of her fingers, slung it around her neck, and headed straight for the exit, not sparing Jungkook so much as a glance.

Didn’t ask what happened.

Didn’t even flinch at the word donate.

Mina noticed.

So did Jungkook.

Especially Jungkook.

She walked right past him—deliberately, calmly—and met up with the usual group already headed outside for their smoke break. Taehyun tossed her a lighter, and she lit up with the ease of someone trying to feel less. Not more.

Behind her, she could feel the ghost of Jungkook’s eyes on her back.

But she didn’t look.

Not once.

She leaned against the railing, let the wind hit her face, and dragged in her first breath of smoke like it was medicine.

And maybe it was.

Because for once, she didn’t feel like being polite.

She didn’t feel like softening the edge.

Let him sit there.

Let him feel the space he left behind.

Let him wonder what changed.

Because for once, Y/N wasn’t interested in making it easier for someone who had no idea what it took for her to even show up every day.

Let the silence answer for her.

-

The office clock dragged its hands through the late afternoon lull, the fluorescent lights humming overhead like they were bored of everyone beneath them.

Y/N didn’t wait for anyone this time.

No group chat.

No eye contact across desks.

No word to Mina.

She simply stood, grabbed her badge, slipped her phone into her back pocket, and headed for the door like smoke was the only thing tethering her to gravity.

She didn’t notice Jungkook shift in his seat until she was already halfway to the hallway.

“Y/N,” he called softly, almost like a question. “You going for a smoke?”

She paused—not long, just a breath—and nodded once without turning around. “Yeah.”

That was all he needed.

He was on his feet, trailing behind her without being asked.

She didn’t stop him.

But she didn’t wait for him either.

The door to the back lot creaked open, spilling the heavy air of late afternoon into their lungs as they stepped outside. The asphalt was still warm under their shoes, the sun dipping lower behind the row of parked cars.

As she reached for her lighter, he patted his pockets.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Left my cigarettes in the car.”

Y/N didn’t sigh. Didn’t roll her eyes. Didn’t offer some teasing comment like she might’ve weeks ago.

She simply pulled a cigarette from her pack, held it out between her fingers without looking at him.

He took it carefully, their fingers brushing for half a second—barely a touch, but she still felt it.

They lit up in silence.

Not the comfortable kind they used to share.

This was the kind that wrapped around their ankles and weighed them down. Heavy, almost intentional.

Jungkook leaned against the railing beside her, blowing smoke out through his nose. He didn’t look at her, but she felt his eyes flick toward her now and then.

She didn’t give him anything.

No words. No glances.

She just smoked like it was all she needed, like he wasn’t even there.

After a few minutes, he finally pushed off the railing, stubbing the cigarette out with the toe of his boot.

“I’m heading to the store,” he said, tone low and neutral, like he wasn’t sure what reaction he expected—or wanted.

Y/N gave him a single nod, barely lifting her eyes. “Cool.”

Then, without another word, she flicked her own cigarette away and turned to walk back inside.

Didn’t wait for him.

Didn’t ask where he was going.

Didn’t look back.

-

It was just past noon when Mina plopped into the empty seat next to Y/N, a knowing look already tugging at her lips.

Y/N didn’t even glance up. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re thinking it,” Y/N muttered, scrolling half-heartedly through her inbox.

Across from them, another colleague—Ines, from marketing—leaned over the partition with a sly grin. “We’re just saying… you haven’t been your usual ‘please don’t perceive me’ self lately.”

“Yeah,” Mina chimed in. “You’ve been extra pretty. Extra sharp. But also, like… a little murder-y.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That’s just my resting face.”

Ines laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe it has something to do with a certain someone who’s suddenly quiet around you. Who accepted a cigarette from you like it was a gift from the gods. Who looked like he wanted to say a thousand things and said none.”

Mina leaned in dramatically. “Jungkook.”

Y/N sighed, finally setting her mouse down. “Can you both not?”

Mina tilted her head. “Y/N… be honest. Are you still thinking about what he said? The ‘eat you up’ moment? The girlfriend jokes? The dancing? The constant hovering? Because like, if I were you, I’d be spiraling.”

“I’m not spiraling,” Y/N lied.

Ines folded her arms. “So ask him. Ask if it was just work flirting or if it meant something.”

Y/N stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “Are you serious? I’m supposed to walk up to him and go, ‘Hey, were you fake flirting with me, or were you secretly imagining marriage?’”

Mina snorted into her coffee. “You’re the one who’s not letting it go. You might as well find out.”

“I’m not asking him. My ego is already in shambles.”

Ines gave her a look. “Then don’t ask for your ego. Ask for your peace.”

That shut her up.

The silence lingered between the three of them until Mina nudged her arm gently. “Look… you don’t have to do anything right now. But if you find yourself alone with him—really alone—promise you’ll ask. Just once. Just to know.”

Y/N exhaled slowly.

She didn’t want to. She really, really didn’t want to.

But the worst part wasn’t the silence.

It was the wondering.

So she nodded—once, quietly. “If we’re alone… I’ll ask.”

A pact with herself. A line drawn.

No expectations.

Just answers.

And maybe, after that—

She could finally move on.

-

Y/N was mid-scroll, headphones in, pretending to be immersed in a true crime breakdown on YouTube while her inbox blinked with things she had no intention of answering.

Her body was relaxed. Mentally somewhere else entirely. Safe.

Until she wasn’t.

A shadow passed beside her desk, followed by a soft voice—familiar, low, and completely out of pocket.

“Wanna go for a smoke?”

She froze.

Her hand paused on the mouse.

Her spine straightened just slightly.

Her brain did the thing where it shut down completely, because—what?

Her eyes flicked upward and, sure enough, there he was.

Jeon Jungkook. Hoodie slightly wrinkled, tired eyes, tattoos peeking out under his sleeves, one hand resting casually on the back of her chair like this wasn’t the first real thing he’d said to her in days.

He met her gaze, expression unreadable. Casual. Like this was normal. Like the silence between them hadn’t stretched into something uncomfortably loud over the past week.

Y/N blinked.

He waited.

Slowly, she pulled out one earbud. “Now?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Unless you’ve got a meeting with HR.”

Her mouth opened, then closed again.

What the actual fuck.

Before she could think too hard about it, her body betrayed her and stood up.

She grabbed her badge and turned around, only to lock eyes with Mina and Ines across the room—both of whom were practically vibrating in their chairs, eyebrows wiggling like they were choreographed.

Y/N shot them a glare that promised violence, but they only grinned harder.

She followed Jungkook through the halls, out the side exit, past the back lot—and straight down the sidewalk, across the quiet street, toward the small park a few blocks from the office.

No one else followed.

It was just them.

They didn’t speak.

The wind brushed against them gently, the sun dipping behind soft clouds as they reached the bench tucked into a quiet corner of the park. It wasn’t far, but far enough to be… something else. Separate from the office. From everyone else.

They sat down, side by side but not touching.

Y/N pulled out her pack, handed him a cigarette wordlessly—like she always had.

He took it with a quiet “thanks.”

They lit up.

Inhale.

Silence.

Exhale.

Still silence.

But it wasn’t empty.

It never was with him.

Y/N glanced at him briefly, studying the way he leaned forward, elbows on knees, cigarette resting between his fingers like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

He didn’t look at her.

Not yet.

But she knew it was coming.

And her heart was already beating too loud.

She had made a promise.

If they ended up alone—

She’d ask.

And here they were.

Alone.

The smoke curled lazily between them, hanging in the air like a barrier she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross.

Y/N sat stiffly, elbows on her thighs, cigarette burning slowly between her fingers. She didn't know how long they sat in silence—seconds, maybe minutes—but eventually, she spoke.

Her voice was softer than she expected. Careful. Like the words might break something.

“So… how’s the new relationship?”

She didn’t look at him when she asked. Just kept her gaze locked on the faint cracks in the pavement beneath their feet.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate.

“It’s good,” he said, exhaling smoke through his nose. “Actually… it’s amazing.”

Y/N nodded once, slowly.

Jungkook continued, as if he hadn’t noticed the tightness in her shoulders. “It’s completely different than my last one. In a good way. No games. It’s just easy, y’know?”

She nodded again.

Still, nothing. No sting. No ache. No sharp edge where her heart should’ve been.

She expected to feel it. The jealousy. The smallness. The shame.

But she didn’t.

There was just a stillness in her chest. Like her body had gone quiet, holding its breath for something else entirely.

She turned her head slightly, letting the cigarette rest between her lips as she stared off toward the trees.

Her mind was chaos. Thoughts overlapping. Heart pounding—not from heartbreak, but from the pressure building behind her ribs.

She wasn’t hurt.

But she was stuck.

Caught between wanting to leave and needing to know.

She took a slow inhale, then out, grounding herself in the motion.

“Can I ask you something?”

Her voice trembled—barely—but he caught it.

Jungkook looked over at her, brows raised. “Yeah. Of course.”

Then, without waiting, he shifted closer—his side brushing hers as he sat properly on the bench, facing her now.

“Shoot.”

And just like that, the moment she’d been dreading was here.

The silence after his word felt louder than anything else.

Her throat tightened.

Her mouth opened—

Then closed again.

But she had promised herself.

So she took one more breath.

And prepared to finally ask.

Y/N’s fingers trembled slightly as she lifted the cigarette to her lips, but her voice—when she finally spoke—was steady.

“Was all the flirting over the past month just because you were bored at work?” Her gaze stayed forward, not on him. “Like… was it just something to pass time because you had nothing better to do?”

She hesitated, then added, more quietly, “Or was there actually something more to it?”

There it was.

The question.

The damn thing that had been sitting at the back of her throat for weeks.

Jungkook didn’t answer right away.

She heard the soft drag of his cigarette, the slow exhale.

Then his voice, low and calm. Not defensive. Not apologetic.

Just honest.

“Nah. It’s just work flirting,” he said.

A pause.

“But I did it because I liked you more than anyone else here. Still do.”

Y/N finally turned her head slightly, eyes meeting his.

He looked at her the way he always did—relaxed, open, unreadable.

“I’m not out here flirting with everyone like that,” he added. “I ask you for smoke breaks. I mess with you. You’re the only person in this place I actually enjoy talking to.”

She blinked.

Jungkook took another drag, glancing off into the trees before continuing.

“But if I had deeper intentions…” he paused, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I’d have asked you out. Like, properly. Not just stood around bumming cigarettes and making dumb jokes.”

Y/N nodded slowly.

And surprisingly?

She didn’t feel the ache she had expected. No wave of embarrassment, no flush of rejection, no pit forming in her stomach.

Just relief.

A slow, steady exhale. Like something heavy had finally slipped off her back and landed far behind her.

“Okay,” she murmured.

Jungkook looked at her again, watching her carefully.

Y/N offered a small, tired smile. “Some of the things you said stuck in my head.”

Another slow inhale. Another breath.

“My colleagues noticed it too,” she said, her voice softer now. “So I needed to ask. I needed to know what’s been going on.”

Jungkook nodded, his expression surprisingly gentle.

“I get it,” he said. “I’m glad you asked.”

They sat in silence again.

But this time—it wasn’t awkward. Or tense.

It was peaceful.

Y/N leaned back slightly, letting the smoke trail upward into the sky, her shoulders lighter than they’d felt in weeks.

She didn’t get the fairytale answer.

But she got the truth.

And for once, it was more than enough.

The cigarette burned halfway through between Jungkook’s fingers before he spoke again.

His voice was more careful now. A little softer. Less playful.

“I’ve noticed,” he said, eyes on the trail of smoke curling up into the sky, “that you’ve been different ever since I got a girlfriend.”

Y/N’s breath stilled for a second—but not from guilt. From the clarity of hearing it said out loud.

She didn’t deflect.

Didn’t deny.

She simply nodded, gaze steady on the bench in front of them.

“I have,” she said plainly. “Because I have respect for myself.”

Jungkook finally looked at her.

She met his eyes fully this time—no hesitation, no flinch, no softness diluted with doubt.

“I have morals,” she continued, voice calm but firm. “And I didn’t want to cross any lines. Even unintentionally. So I distanced myself.”

The wind picked up slightly, rustling the leaves above them. Neither of them moved.

Jungkook let out a quiet breath, almost like a sigh. “That’s fair.”

He flicked the ash off his cigarette. “I’ve tried not to act the same either. Since getting into something serious.”

Y/N gave a small nod. “I noticed.”

There was no accusation in her voice. No passive anger. Just an understanding—subtle, sharp, necessary.

He looked at her again, more intently this time. “I didn’t want to disrespect her. Or you.”

She gave him a faint, dry smile. “Then it’s good we both stepped back.”

He didn’t disagree.

They sat in that mutual stillness—two people who had walked right up to a line they didn’t quite understand until they were forced to see it clearly.

Not in shame.

Not in regret.

But in quiet acceptance.

Jungkook stubbed out the remainder of his cigarette and leaned back on the bench, arms resting behind him as he stared up at the gray sky. “You’re a good person, Y/N.”

Y/N let her eyes wander ahead, unfocused. “I’m just trying to be one.”

“Still,” he murmured. “I’m glad we talked.”

“Me too.”

-

Y/N reentered the office with a lighter step than before, as if a burden had finally been lifted from her shoulders. She found herself greeted by the usual mix of chatter and knowing glances from her coworkers. Mina and Ines exchanged a quick look as she passed by, a silent question hanging in the air.

At her desk, Taehyun leaned over with a curious smile. “So, what happened out there? You look… different.”

Y/N paused, then offered a small, genuine smile. “I talked it out with him.”

Her colleagues leaned in slightly, eager for any details of the shift that had clearly transformed her mood.

“I told him everything,” she continued softly, her eyes scanning the familiar surroundings as she settled back into her seat. “I said I needed to know if all this was just work flirting or if there was something more. He told me it was only work flirting—that he’d asked me out for smoke breaks because he liked me more than anyone here. And he made it clear that if he had deeper intentions, he’d have invited me on a proper date already.”

There was a brief silence among the group as they absorbed her words. Y/N’s voice took on a steadier tone, filled with a quiet relief. “I feel… lighter. Like I can finally breathe again.”

She paused, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face as if she sensed there was more he hadn’t said. “There’s this feeling, too—like maybe he hid something from me or didn’t tell me everything he felt. But honestly, at this point, I’m just glad to have the clarity. I’m ready to move on.”

Her coworkers nodded, the room filled with a mix of understanding and unspoken respect for her openness. Mina gave her an encouraging nod, and Taehyun added with a supportive grin, “Sounds like you did what you needed to do, Y/N. That relief? That’s priceless.”

With that, Y/N returned to her work, feeling steadier than she had in weeks. The conversations and teasing around the office now carried a different tone—a tone of acceptance and, more importantly, self-respect.

And as she settled at her desk, Y/N realized that sometimes, the hardest conversations reveal exactly what’s needed: a chance to let go, a breath of fresh air, and the courage to finally move on.

[legandairy-horror]

Does anyone else feel a strange sort of dread waiting for new deltarune chapters?

It sounds crazy right? I admit it's a weird feeling for sure, and I'm not even 100% sure if dread is the right way to describe it. But as more info is revealed and the next chapter inevitably gets closer and closer to releasing I can't help but feel a strange sort of, melancholy? Longing? The only way I can describe it is "when you know the goodbye is coming". The strange somber feeling when you know you’re going to have to leave stuff behind, but aren't quite ready for it yet.

warning: words. Homestuck

In 3 months Chapter 1 will be 6 years old, and in 2 months Chapter 2 will be 3 years old. Deltarune is ostensibly in Early Access but this release schedule puts new chapters closer in time scale to whole sequals if anything, which they most assuredly are not trying to be. This has created a strange situation in the fanbase that I don't think I've ever truly seen anywhere else. One where, In the time between chapters It feels like everyone has had their own chance to decide what Deltarune is to them. To create their own version of this story, to write their own themes that they want to see explored, to imagine their own events and plot twists they want to see play out.

@lynxgriffin Paper Trail Comic Being an Alternate Story following off of chapter 1

@lilybug-02 The Chara Timeline Being one of many interpretations on the popular Asriel & Chara roommates headcannon.

@huecycles Andromeda Chapters being their interpretation on the full game

The innumerable Deltarune Theorists and analysts like HalfBreadChaos, Andrew Cunningham, Stuffed Alpaca, etc. etc.

@vyletbunni Deltatraveler being a whole ass fangame based around a chapter 2 meme that it has long since outlived

And that's kinda the thing isn't it? Once more deltarune comes out, a ton of these projects will just become outdated, it's an inevitability. So what will happen to them? will they become forgotten? maybe, maybe not, it's impossible to tell. but either way it feels kinda sad to think about yknow? that one day all the time and effort spent and all the memories made might one day just cease to exist.

There's a lot more I could say on this topic if given the chance but to keep this tumblr post from morphing into a 2 hour long video essay in text form let me leave off with this.

In the age of the internet and social media there will always be a fan of something. Nothing truly dies quite like it used to anymore, regardless of whatever influencers want you to believe. But that doesn't mean things stop changing, that there wasn't a past that has since been left behind. I'm a Homestuck fan. more specifically I'm a Late Homestuck fan, one who came in after the comic had already ended and it's peak in popularity was long behind it. The fandom's still around all these years later. But it'd be foolish to admit that, 8 years after the comics controversial end, the inescapable trend of new fans replacing old fans has left the fandom wholly disconnected from the monolith that it once was. the only remnants of which lie in decades old discourse and fanfiction. Like old relics of a long forgotten city, waiting to be excavated under a fine layer of dirt.

Before I close out here I just want to make it clear: I'm not saying that we should be trying to return to some nebulous "glorious past" that never really existed. I'm not trying to deride Toby Fox for not working in the sweatshop hard enough to produce more content™, or whatever you wanna try and spin-doctor this post into. It's just a thought that creeps into my head every now that I wanted to share, see if anyone feels the same, yknow?

Besides it's not all doom and gloom. For those of you OG Homestucks who read till the end. You remember Heinoustuck? Guidestuck? Nightfall? Fucking Ke$haStuck? yeah those are still going by the way! after years of inactivity they've now started back up again. some under new authors and some by the same author but still!

You could say a lot about that but to me at least, it makes me feels hopeful in a way. That, even if not everything will survive. we'll at least have some mementos to remember what came before.

[badkitty3000]

The Bodyguard

Chapters 1 and 2

Chapter 3 ->

Chapters 4 and 5 ->

Chapter 6 ->

Chapter 7 (final) ->

Five Hargreeves x female reader, multi-chapter, request

Summary: Five is hired to protect you, a professional ballet dancer, from an obsessive stalker. As the threat from the stalker escalates, Five must navigate his growing feelings for you while keeping you safe

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, choking, bathtub sex, after care

A/N: This was sent as a request for Five romantically linked to a ballerina. It quickly evolved into a crazy story involving a stalker, and turned into a multi-chapter saga. In true Bad Kitty form, it will entail smut and romance and all the good stuff. And yes, it is very loosely based on the great 90's movie of the same name

I will probably post new chapters every couple of days or so, but I don't have a set schedule. Let me know if you want to be added or dropped from my tag list

Thank you to everyone that continues to be interested in my fics. You all are amazing! ❤️😽

Chapter 1: The Ballerina

Five sat in the dingy private investigator’s office, across from the sad and bloated looking man who was interviewing him. As the man droned on in a monotonous tone about sick days (there weren’t any) and health benefits (there weren’t any), Five flexed and unflexed his hand against his thigh in an effort not to walk out of there.

He needed a job. And not just some shitty job cleaning floors or bussing tables. He needed some actual money so he could get an actual apartment and not live in the actual hell he was currently living in. 

After he saved the world, and his family was safe, they had been left to fend for themselves. They had their powers, but that didn’t really mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Turns out when you aren’t being manipulated and corralled into superhero fame by your overly ambitious father, no one seems to give a shit if you can teleport or throw knives or commune with the dead. At least not in any way that’s lucrative. It’s an entertaining party trick at best.

So, against his better judgment, Five found himself once again living in an abandoned hellscape. Only instead of an empty world caused by an apocalypse, it was the empty shell of the Umbrella Academy. It was sad and depressing, and not very comfortable, but he would be damned if he was going to shack up with one of his siblings. As far as Five was concerned, that wasn’t even an option.

When Five had figured out a way back to their correct and rightful timeline, he managed to jump them all there safely, including Lila and Sloane. He even figured out a way to age himself up a few years so that he could pass as a young adult and not an adolescent. The only thing he managed to botch this time was arriving one year after their father killed himself, instead of the one day he was aiming for. During that time, the Academy had fallen into disrepair. There had been no signs of Pogo or Grace.

His siblings dispersed to try and fit back into their old lives, or find new ones for themselves. Each one of them asked Five to come with them, but he declined. He wasn’t some kid that needed charity. He could take care of himself. He’d done it for years.

It was now six months later, and Five had not made much progress. He lived inside the dilapidated mansion, roaming around like a ghost that couldn’t move on. He sold some things that were of value that hadn’t been looted, or were hidden away, so that he had enough money to buy food (and booze) and the bespoke suits he had a penchant for. But getting an actual job when you had no credentials to your name, not even a driver’s license, was more difficult than he had thought. Combine that with his baby face and no one took him seriously. No one with any real clout, anyway.

Which is what brought him to this rundown office building he was sitting in today. Klaus was the one that got him the interview, so Five shouldn’t be surprised it wasn’t exactly a high-end joint.

“Anyway, that’s about it,” the tired man said to Five before taking a sip of what had to have been some very stale coffee in a paper cup. “It’s a private security detail. One client. Just have to make sure she gets to and from work ok, and check around her house for creeps. Pretty straight forward.”

“So, I’m a bodyguard?” Five asked suspiciously.

The man shrugged. “I guess if you want to think of it that way. And we’ll give you a car, so add chauffeur in there, too.” He paused. “You got a license, right?”

“I do,” Five answered, which wasn’t a lie. He had a license. It just wasn’t legit. But he could drive, so he figured that was all that mattered.

The guy eyed Five up and smirked. “Luckily we don’t guarantee complete safety, which is why we’re dirt cheap compared to some other places.”

“Why luckily?” Five asked, his eyes narrowing.

The man’s large shoulders moved up and down again with apathy. “You know. You’re not exactly built like Arnold Schwartzenegger, you know what I mean?”

Five nodded slowly. “Sure. But I got the job?”

“Yeah, you got the job. But I will need to make sure you can handle a gun before I send you out there. Legality thing, you know?”

The man reached into a drawer of his beat up desk and pulled out a revolver. Five watched silently as he loaded a few rounds into the chambers and checked it over a few times. He held it up to Five.

“You know what this is?”

“A gun?” Five ventured, just to be a prick.

The man rolled his eyes. “I mean do you know what type it is?”

Five sighed. “A .357 Magnum revolver,” he answered in a bored tone.

The man’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah, that’s right. Have you used one before?”

“A time or two.”

“Now, I’m gonna need to make sure you know how to use it properly.” He handed it over the desk for Five to take it from him. “See how it feels in your hand.”

Five looked the gun over, making a show of feeling the weight of it.

“Feel comfortable?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Five nodded with a smile, right before he turned in his seat and aimed the revolver at the door to the office that he knew led to the back alley.

Before the other man could say anything, Five shot one precise bullet directly into the doorknob, blasting a hole right through it, but leaving the door intact. The noise inside the tiny office was deafening but Five didn’t flinch. Instead, he thoughtfully looked the gun over again, nodded a few times, and set it back on the desk.

“So, I got the job, right?” he asked again, this time standing up and peering down at the man who was still gaping at him while sitting at his desk. Five stuck his hands in his pants pockets and waited for an answer.

“Y-yes, yeah, you got the job,” the man stuttered before clearing his throat and passing a hand over his bald head. He stared at the neatly massacred doorknob. Then he reached over and handed Five a large envelope containing all the specifics of the job. “Here you go. You start tomorrow.”

“And when do I get paid?” Five asked while taking the envelope from him.

“Uh… every Friday.”

Five nodded, already on his way to the door.  “Great.” He stopped and turned again. “I’ll need the keys to the car.”

“Oh right!” The man dug around in the desk drawer again before pulling out a set of keys. He tossed them to Five. “Here you go. Black SUV. Parked out back.” As Five caught the keys and turned to leave, his new boss spoke again. “Let me know if you have any questions.”

“I won’t,” Five answered over his shoulder as he walked out, letting the door slam shut behind him.

**************************************

Later that day, Five was poring over the documents inside the envelope. Sitting at the precariously balanced table where he once ate his mom’s smiley face pancake breakfasts, he grimaced and tipped back his third beer of the night.

“What a crock of shit,” he said to himself, his voice echoing off the bare, cement walls.

The envelope held a few documents and legally binding contracts from the security company. From what Five could gather, his new ���asset” was a young ballet dancer that was requesting a private security guard for herself. From the sounds of it, she had a stalker, and despite a restraining order, she was afraid for her safety.

Enter Five.

He tossed the papers to the side and sighed, taking a look around him. God, he hated it there. He needed to get out. Even if it was some equally shitty apartment, anything was better than the Academy. 

So, if he had to put up with some stuck up ballerina princess in a frilly tutu, then he could do that. He figured if he hung in there for a couple months, played by the rules and collected his weekly pay, he’d have enough to get out of this shit hole. He just had to play his cards right, make nice, and not piss anybody off. He could do that. Piece of cake.

***************************

“Where the hell is this lady?” Five grumbled to himself as he stood outside of the black SUV the security company had assigned him. 

He was waiting outside of the address he had been given, where this supposed prestigious dancer lived. It was a giant mansion, set back off the road, with a long, winding driveway that led to the house. Five had turned into the circle drive near the front entrance, cutting off the engine and staring up at the ivy-covered stone and brick exterior. The grand, heavy oak double doors at the top of a set of wide steps were flanked by two large, snarling lion statues.

Five had sighed heavily before getting out of the car and standing next to it. He had been told not to bother knocking; that she would come out on her own at 7:00am.

He checked his watch. It was 7:06. He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the car. “Figures,” he muttered.

At 7:09, one of the doors to the house flew open, banging loudly, as you rushed out, carrying two large gym bags in one hand and a travel mug with your breakfast smoothie in the other. A set of keys dangled from your hand holding the drink, and a pair of sunglasses were perched crookedly on top of your head.

As you tried to close and lock the door behind you, you wrestled with your bags and almost spilled your drink, all while swearing and kicking at the door.

“Stupid… fucking… dumb door never wants to close… piece of shit key… who designed this…“

When you finally got the door closed and locked, you turned to face Five who had been watching all of this go down with a stunned expression. You blushed and then smiled.

“Uh… sorry,” you said nervously. You hoisted your bags up again and made your way down the steps. “The stupid door never wants to lock properly.”

Five realized, a minute too late, that he probably should have helped you with your bags. Instead, he just watched you bumbling around like some sort of cartoon character until you reached the car. You plopped the bags on the ground near Five’s feet.

With a loud exhale, you extended your hand and introduced yourself. “Hi. You must be the guy the security company sent?”

Five took your hand in his, shaking it once before dropping it again. “Five Hargreeves. Nice to meet you.” 

Five ran through a kind of inventory of you in his mind. It was a habit he held onto from his assassin days. An immediate assessment of his target.

Slim but toned. Cute face. The tight bun on top of her head is kind of cliche, but whatever. Gray sweatpants, black leotard. Nice enough rack. Scuffed up tennis shoes. A voice that isn’t too annoying. Clearly a disorganized mess though. But all in all, could be worse. 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you gushed. “I couldn’t find my shoes and the blender top flew off while I was making my smoothie, so then I had to clean that up, which was super fun, and then –”

Five cut you off with a hand gesture. “It’s fine,” he said, although he didn’t look like he thought it was fine. He looked irritated.

“Ok,” you said, silently telling yourself to shut the hell up. You looked at the SUV he was standing next to. When he noticed, he seemed to remember why he was there in the first place and opened the back passenger door for you. “Thank you,” you said as you climbed in.

Five flung your bags into the trunk, making note of their weight and how you must be a lot stronger than you look to be hauling those things around. As he came around to the driver’s side, he slid in and started the engine. Before putting the car in drive, he turned in his seat to face you.

“You know, you shouldn’t be just hopping into strange men’s cars like this.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“You have no idea who I am. You didn’t ask for any form of ID or other proof that I’m who I say I am. Anybody can wear a suit and drive a black SUV.”

“Oh… “ you stammered. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Well, do you have any ID?”

Five sighed. “Well, it’s kind of late for that now, isn’t it? You already got in the car. I could be driving you off somewhere to murder you, chop you up into little pieces, and dump your body parts in a field.”

You looked nervously out the window and your hand came to rest on the door handle. The doors automatically locked with a loud click and you jumped.

“See?” Five said, with his finger on the lock button. “Don’t you have a stalker that I’m supposed to be protecting you from?”

You nodded slowly.

“Well, based on this first impression, I’d say he’s pretty fucking dumb, because you are extremely easy to catch.”

Your mouth hung open and you slow-blinked as you tried to say something in your defense, but everything he was saying made sense. That, and he was kind of scaring the crap out of you.

Five reached over into the glove compartment, and pulled out a piece of paper and a plastic-covered badge attached to a lanyard. He handed them over to you.

“There. Here’s proof I am who I say I am, even though you apparently don’t care.”

You took the items from him, skimming the paper first. It was a signed document from the security agency with their official seal at the top, assigning a Number Five Hargreeves to be your personal security detail. It looked legit. Next, you studied the ID. It was a picture of Five, looking like he would rather be doing just about anything than getting his picture taken, along with his name, title, and some sort of employee number underneath it. It also bore the seal of the agency.

You handed them back to him. “Thank you, I appreciate you showing those to me. You’re right, I shouldn’t have trusted you so easily.”

Five shoved them back in the glove compartment and closed it. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

As he put the car in gear and headed down your driveway, you leaned forward in your seat. “If you’re so intent on making sure I know who you are, why aren’t you wearing your badge around your neck so that I can see it?”

There was a pause. “Because I try not to look like an asshole and wearing that badge around my neck won’t be doing me any favors.”

You sat back in your seat, grabbing your smoothie and rolling your eyes before taking a sip. Well this guy’s a real charmer, you thought to yourself. At least he’s kind of nice to look at.

Your dance studio was about thirty minutes away, and the car was awkwardly quiet as Five drove. You cleared your throat a couple times, but he seemed to ignore you.

“Do you want to turn the radio on?” you suggested.

“Not really.”

You sat there for a minute, pondering. “You know, I did do some research on you beforehand, so I’m not a complete moron. The agency had given me your name. I know you were one of the Umbrella Academy kids and that you can teleport. That must be pretty cool.”

There was no answer from the front, so you tried again. “So what was it like growing up with–”

“Reginald? Not great, actually,” Five interrupted, clearly annoyed with your question.

You bristled at his continued rudeness. “I was going to say Allison Hargreeves, the actress, actually.”

“Oh,” he said, and you saw his eyebrows furrow together in the rearview mirror. 

“I love all her movies, especially that last one she did, that rom-com?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is she nice?” you asked, still trying to break the ice.

“Is Allison nice?” Five asked in return.

“Yeah. You know, she’s so famous and high-class. I always wonder what celebrities are like in real life.”

There was a long pause before he answered. “She’s an idiot. All of my siblings are idiots.”

“Oh,” you said, sinking back in your seat. After thinking for a minute, you sat forward again. “You know, you’re not very nice.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I’m really not.”

For the next ten minutes, you gave up trying to converse with Five. But then out of the blue, he spoke up.

“So, I read about this stalker guy of yours.”

You weren’t sure if he was going to say something snarky again, so you hesitated. “Oh… ok.”

“They sent me a file on him. Sounds like a real creep. I understand why you would want to hire someone.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, relieved. “Yeah, it’s not been a fun few months, that’s for sure.”

“So what happened? He fall in love with you at a ballet recital or something?”

You let out a little snort of laughter. “Well, first of all, we don’t call them recitals… I’m not six. They are called performances or simply ballet. And yes, that’s kind of what happened. Although I wouldn’t call becoming unhealthily obsessed with someone falling in love.”

“Good point,” Five mused. “But he��s been following you to work?”

“Yes. The studio has stopped letting him in and will call the cops if he tries to, but he still sits in the parking lot in his car waiting for me to walk inside.” You shivered a little. “He just watches me.”

“You have a restraining order, though?”

“Yeah, he’s technically not allowed within a certain radius, but that radius is not very big. And if he stays on public property, there’s not much I can do about it.”

Five nodded. “Does he know where you live?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never seen him near my house, but I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Does he go to your performances?”

“Yes. He’s there every single time, rain or shine, sitting in the very last row to comply with the restraining order. He’ll even come to the matinees and return for the evening performances. And he always dresses in a tuxedo and carries a bouquet of flowers that he tosses on stage afterwards.”

“That’s intense. I would imagine that might throw you off your game, knowing that he’s out there.”

“Yeah, sometimes it does,” you admitted. “Which, truthfully, is one of the reasons I wanted to hire you. If I know someone is there keeping an eye on this guy, then I might be able to concentrate on my dancing instead of worrying about what he might do.”

Five’s eyes flitted to the rearview mirror again to look at you. He had nice eyes, you noticed.

“There must be something more. Some reason this guy is freaking you out so badly.”

Your voice got quieter as you answered him. “Well, for the last few weeks he has started sending me letters to the studio.”

“He doesn’t mail them directly to your home?”

You shook your head. “No, thankfully. Now the secretary just throws them directly in the trash when they come through. But I’ve read enough to know what they say.”

“And what do they say?” Five asked.

“They… uh… they say how much he loves me and how much I have changed his life. He says he thinks about me all day and night and knows we would be happy together if I just give him a chance. That he’s not a bad guy, he just loves me so much and I’m not giving him a shot. Sometimes he gets angry because I don’t respond. Sometimes it’s just more rambling.”

“Is that all?”

He must have sensed you were holding something back, which meant he was actually listening to you and was observant.

“No, that’s not all. Sometimes they get very… graphic.”

“Graphic? Like violent?”

“No, more like… explicit.” You blushed a little. “Sexual. All the things he wants to do to me or says he is going to do to me once we are together. It’s all very detailed.” You shuddered at the thought. “It makes me sick.”

“I would imagine,” Five said with a small nod.

He didn’t say anything else on the subject and you didn’t volunteer any more information. Soon, you were arriving at your dance studio. While your first impression of Five wasn’t exactly blowing you away, you did note that he seemed to take his job seriously. When he got out and walked around to your side, he surveyed the parking lot before opening the door for you. 

You got out and looked around. When you noticed the familiar dark blue pickup truck parked in the back, occupied by a tall, thin man wearing a baseball cap, you pointed him out to Five.

“There, that’s him.”

Five nodded. “I saw him when I got out. I’ve got my eye on him.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. This is what I was hired for,” Five responded, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Right. Well, can I get my bags then?”

Five hauled your bags out and handed them over to you. “I would carry them for you, but I need my hands free. Just in case.”

You understood what he was saying, and it made sense. If he needed to use a weapon, he couldn’t be carrying two bags stuffed with dance attire and water bottles. As you walked towards the door, Five accompanied you, staying close. You were always observant of how other people carried themselves, probably because you used your body as a way of artistic expression, so you were honed in on others’ body movements as well. 

Five held himself confidently, walking swiftly and with purpose. You liked how he matched your stride so that he didn’t stray too far ahead or behind. And you liked how his suit coat brushed against your arm a few times. You stole a couple of quick glances at his face while you were walking, but looked away before he could notice. There was no denying he was handsome.

When you led him inside, this observation was confirmed by the number of sideways glances and outright gawks that he received from the other dancers. Male and female. You kept your head down, embarrassed to be seen with an actual bodyguard in tow, and headed for the locker room to change. As you got to the door, you turned to Five.

“I’m not sure how this works, exactly,” you admitted. “Do you wait here? In the car?”

Five looked around curiously, taking in his surroundings. “I’ll be here, in the building. Don’t worry, I won’t get in the way. I might take a few looks outside periodically, but I won’t stray far.”

“Thank you.” You paused, remembering that you weren’t supposed to thank him. “I rehearse for six hours, though,” you added guiltily.

Five shrugged. “That’s fine. When you’re done, I’ll take you home again.”

“Alright, then,” you said with a nod and a smile. Then you walked into the locker rooms, leaving Five in the hallway.

****************************

Five waited, as he told you he would. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about having to hang around in a dance studio all day, but he was used to having to endure long, boring stretches of time by himself. At least in this case, there were some nice views to be had. Five tried not to be obvious, but the beautifully sculpted bodies that walked past him all day long were not going unnoticed. About halfway through the day, after Five had taken a quick survey of the parking lot, he decided to park himself in front of the window that looked into the large rehearsal room. He didn’t know much about ballet, so he was a little curious about it. 

As he stood there, arms folded across his chest, he watched as you and your fellow dancers practiced the same few steps over and over again. The director was demanding perfection each time, and from Five’s point of view, it was perfect. He couldn’t stop staring.

The fluid movements of your body had him transfixed and he kept his eyes on you, ignoring the other dancers twirling around you. You gracefully lept and flew through the air like some sort of beautiful gazelle or mythical fairy creature. You had removed your sweatpants and were wearing a black leotard with gray leg warmers, and of course your pointe shoes that allowed you to dance on your toes.

Your legs were nothing but muscle and sinew, toned and tightened by years of discipline. The way your arms bent and swayed with each movement looked easy and second nature, even though Five knew it must have been incredibly difficult. You made it all appear effortless, and Five found he was staring a little too long, because at one point you turned toward him and caught him. You gave him a small smile before returning to your work, and Five moved to a different area where he wouldn’t be tempted to watch.

On one of his wanderings, he came across photos of the dance company members lining a wall. He paused, glancing over the names and faces, casually looking for yours. It wasn’t hard to find though, because there you were, front and center. A professional headshot of you, larger than the others, was framed in the middle of the wall. Underneath was a small plaque with your name and the number of years you had been with the company. It also read “principal dancer”.

When the day was over, and you had showered in the locker rooms there and changed into clean clothes again, Five led you back to the SUV. Your stalker was still there, waiting in his blue truck, until you were inside the car and then he drove away. It was what he always did. Waited until you were finished with your day and then left. You wondered where he went or where he lived. But you also didn’t really want to know.

As Five drove you back home, it was silent for a while before he spoke up.

“What is a principal dancer?”

You were surprised at first by his question. You didn’t really think he would take an interest in anything personal having to do with you. But he must have seen your photo inside the studio.

“A principal dancer has the highest rank within the dance company,” you explained, feeling your face flush a little. “Sometimes they’re called prima ballerinas.”

Five took that in for a second. “So, you’re the best dancer?”

You laughed. “I wouldn’t say I’m the best, necessarily, but I’ve definitely paid my dues. There are many talented dancers in our company.”

“But not as good as you,” Five said. You saw his eyes glance in the mirror again. “I saw you.”

You nodded. “I saw you watching. Do you like ballet?”

“Not particularly, no,” he answered honestly. 

“Oh. Well, that’s a shame.”

“I enjoyed watching you, though,” he said, and you thought you heard his voice crack just a tiny bit as he said it. Then he cleared his throat. “Not in a stalker way. I just mean the dancing was interesting.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was more silence as the car sped along en route to your house. You couldn’t help the tiny smile that formed on your face as you looked out the window. This guy was starting to grow on you.

When you arrived home, he got out and opened the car door for you again, this time taking your bags for you as you both headed up the stairs to your front door.

You laughed nervously. “I feel like this is a date and you’re walking me home.”

Five shook his head with a slight smile. “Not a date. I’ll just make sure you get in safely and there are no signs of forced entry, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Got it.” You turned to unlock the door and then stopped, turning to face Five again. “So, there’s something you should know.”

“What’s that?”

You looked at your feet. “Well, it’s just that this house… I know it looks fancy and you probably think I’m some rich bitch snob, but… “ Five couldn’t deny that, so just waited for you to finish. “Let’s just say don’t judge a book by its cover, ok?”

Five didn’t say anything at first, until he realized you were actually waiting for a sign of acknowledgement. Then he nodded. “Ok.”

You unlocked the door and let Five step inside first. You held your breath as you watched him walk into the grand foyer and take everything in. You knew what he was probably thinking. That he couldn’t believe you lived in such a shit hole.

Five spun slowly around, looking at the open first story of your house. Once upon a time it had been a beautiful mansion. Now it resembled more of a construction zone than anything else. The walls of the massive living room that were lined with faded, gold-striped wallpaper, were half-torn down or riddled with holes. Only half of the lights worked in the house, leaving just a few old sconces on the wall flickering dimly. A sitting area on the other side of the foyer was filled with old, dusty furniture that had collected over the years that were in various states of disrepair. A grand piano sat off to the side, covered in a large sheet to keep the dust and dirt off. It was one of the only things in the house that you cherished.

You sighed and laughed quietly. “Home sweet home.”

Five looked at you curiously, his head tilted slightly to the side. He slid his hands into his pants pockets and rocked back on his heels.

“You’re right, this is not what I expected from the outside.” He looked around again. “What happened?”

When he asked you that, you got a sense that he didn’t mean what happened to the house, but rather, what happened to you for you to end up living this way.

“This was my grandmother’s house. She grew up here and lived here her entire life. When I was little, I used to come here all the time. Even then it was starting to become a little disheveled. Nana wasn’t much of a housekeeper.” You laughed at the memory. “But she was fun and a little crazy, and she took me to my first ballet when I was five. After that, I used to dance right here in this foyer, pretending I was the star of the show, while she played the piano.”

“She paid for my first dance lessons and came to every recital. But then her mind started to go and her housekeeping skills got even worse. The house fell into disrepair over the years and she kind of just shut herself inside while it deteriorated around her. I tried to help, but after a while she didn’t remember who I was.” Your eyes filled with tears. “That was the worst part.”

“What about your parents?” Five asked.

“They’re still around, but they don’t really see my dancing as a real career. I think they still view me as a little kid playing dress up.” You shrugged. “They wanted me to be a doctor or something they could be proud of.”

Five’s eyebrows creased together. “They should be proud of you now. You’re the captain of the dance team.”

You laughed loudly, which made him crack a smile. “Principal dancer, but yeah… close enough.” You shook your head. “It’s not enough for them.”

“So, what made you end up here?”

“Well, when my grandmother died, she left all her possessions to me. She didn’t have much in the end, just a couple thousand dollars and this house. So, I decided I’d live here until I could afford to either move somewhere better or fix it up. No one wants to buy it in the state it’s in. Unfortunately, on my salary, that will take a while.”

“Dance captains don’t make good money?” Five asked with a smirk.

“Not really, no. For the amount of work we put in, our dedication, and the discipline we have for our bodies… it’s really not much. But I figure the house is free, so I might as well stay here and save up. I don’t need any place fancy, anyway.”

Five nodded, his green eyes searching your face before pushing his hair off his forehead. “I should take a look around, just to be safe. Then I’ll leave you alone for the night.”

“Ok, yeah,” you started walking further into the house. “Follow me, I’ll show you around.”

You gave Five a tour, leading him through each aging area of the house and taking him through the outdated kitchen that still, embarrassingly, contained some of the remains of your spilled smoothie from that morning. The two of you walked up the grandiose, winding staircase so you could show him each bedroom and bathroom. When you came to the master bedroom, which was the one you had taken over, you paused with a smile.

“This one might surprise you.”

You opened the double doors to the bedroom with a flourish, presenting the room to Five like it was some sort of splendid wonderment. He stepped inside with you and you gestured around.

“I decided to splurge and make this my little home within a home,” you explained.

The room was big, and you had kept your grandmother’s antique four poster bed, but spruced it up with a luxurious, light pink comforter, fluffy pillows, and a couple strings of fairy lights overhead. The dressers and vanity mirror were also original, but you had refinished them and added new, updated hardware. A small reading nook with a big, comfy armchair and bookshelves took up one corner of the room.

Five hadn’t said anything as he looked around, which made you a little self-conscious.

“So, yeah… this is where the magic happens,” you joked, laughing stupidly at yourself and then blushing.

Five just gave you a semi-amused look, but didn’t comment further.

You cleared your throat. “Here, let me show you the bathroom. This will really blow your mind.”

The en suite bathroom was the crown jewel of the house and just as large as the bedroom itself. It was the one room your grandmother had kept up and it was still beautiful.

“She loved baths,” you said as you motioned to the gigantic soaking tub that was big enough for four people.

It was surrounded by gorgeous, expensive marble tile, with a stand alone shower that was also impressive. You had lined the ledge around the tub with candles and scented soaps that you loved to use after a long day of dancing. The sink and cabinets were adorned with gold accents, but without being too gaudy. You had added plush, pink towels and other accents to give it your own flair.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

Five nodded. “It’s definitely impressive. Your grandmother seemed to have good taste.”

“Yes, she did.”

After another few seconds, Five turned to you. “Is there anywhere else I need to look before I leave?”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly feeling a little stupid that you had been showing off your bathroom, when really all he wanted to know was that everything was locked up safely. “No, this is it. In terms of outside access points, anyway.”

“Just make sure you keep all doors and windows locked. Even on the second floor.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card, handing it over to you. “Here’s my number. Call me if you need anything or you suspect anything.”

“Yeah, ok. Thank you.”

With another nod, Five turned to head back out of the room. You followed him down the stairs until you were at the front door. He opened it and then turned to you again.

“You know, you really shouldn’t lead a strange man through your house like that. There were several spots where you would have been trapped with no way out if I had ill intentions.”

You rolled your eyes. “Seriously?”

Five smiled crookedly. “I’m just saying… you shouldn’t be so trusting.”

You eyed him up for a minute, trying to determine if he was making fun of you or not. You decided to see if you could rattle him a little. “And what kind of ill intentions would you be thinking of… you know… if you had any?” You put your hand on your hip and cocked it to the side. 

Five wasn’t so easily thrown off his game, though, and he didn’t even flinch at your flirty invitation. With that same half-smile he shook his head. “See you tomorrow morning.” He paused, looking back on his way down the steps as you stood in the doorway. “Same time? Or should I factor smoothie accidents into the equation?”

You laughed, despite your annoyance. “I promise I’ll be on time.”

“Good night,then,” he said, before heading to the car.

“Good night, Five.”

******************************

Chapter 2: The Letter

When Five arrived back at the Academy, he went immediately to the bar, just like he always did, and poured himself a generous glass of whatever he was in the mood for at the moment. Tonight it was bourbon. And not a bad one, either. He took a sip and sighed, letting the smokiness of the liquor burn deliciously down his throat.

Five shrugged off his jacket and vest, loosening his tie and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he sat heavily on one of the old bar stools. The house was quiet except for the occasional whistle of wind through an exposed crack, or an ominous creaking noise from somewhere within the old foundation. It all added to the overall ambiance of a haunted house that Five was starting to grow accustomed to.

As he sat there, ruminating on the happenings of the day, he spun the chipped crystal glass idly on the bartop in front of him.

He wasn’t sure what to think of you. He had been expecting a rich, stuck-up princess type, but that’s not what you were at all. Instead, you were surprisingly pleasant; and Five didn’t find most people pleasant. So, this was fairly new territory for him. During the few short interactions he had with you throughout the day, he found himself enjoying your company. Again, this was all new for Five.

He thought about how you and he weren’t that different in some ways. You were both living alone in these big, crumbling mansions that appeared impressive from the outside but were a mess on the inside. If Five really wanted to go down that road, he could make the case that your houses were metaphors for yourselves. But the last thing he wanted to do was to start analysing his psyche, so he moved on.

He found himself lost in a daydream of you dancing effortlessly and gracefully around the dilapidated halls of the Academy, just like he had seen you dance in the studio that day. In his fantasy, you were surrounded by a golden halo of light that brightened every room you passed through. What a contrast your elegance and beauty was when compared to the darkness of the mansion. He smiled at the thought.

He thought of how you had made the best of your situation and had actually carved out a space for yourself in that old house; making the master bedroom and bathroom into your home within a home. Five looked around him. He had done nothing like that. The thought had never even occurred to him. He had made the space livable, at least for his meager needs, but it was in no way a “home”. He had not decorated it with things he liked or found interesting. He hadn’t brought in any new furniture or tried to fix what was there. He had essentially made it like his camp he had with Dolores during the apocalypse. A relatively safe place to come back to every day. A place to survive.

Five then thought of your stalker. He had no sympathies for this unknown and possibly dangerous man that was obsessed with you. But he could almost see his side of things. Especially if this man had seen you dance, Five could see how that could spark some sort of unhealthy, imaginary romance. Not that he would hesitate to take that fucker out if he needed to, or that he would ever stoop to such a pathetic level himself, but still. He kind of got it.

He started taking a mental inventory of all of the access points in your house that he had noticed while you had led him around. You had told him that you didn’t think your stalker knew where you lived, but Five had his doubts. Why would this guy stop at just the studio and theater? If he was that hung up on you, then there was no reason to believe he wouldn’t have followed you home at some point. 

Again, Five’s mind wandered back to your dancing, only this time instead of the Academy, he pictured you twirling around in your beautifully marbled bathroom. The candles that surrounded the edge of the tub were lit, illuminating your face and body with flickering light. And then somehow… for some reason… Five started to imagine you in less and less clothing until you were fully nude. Your strong body and defined muscles flexed and moved with each sensual pose you demonstrated for him, all while growing closer and closer until you were right there in front of him. Your warm skin pressing against him… your soft mouth a mere inches away… 

“Five,” you whispered and god damn it if he didn’t want to drop to his knees at just the sound of his name on your lips.

“Five!”

Five jumped, startled out of his fantasy by a very real and familiar voice.

“Fivey! Hello? Where are you?”

Five groaned before tipping his head back and yelling in response. “Klaus, where the fuck do you think I am?”

Klaus sauntered into the parlor, looking around him as if he hadn’t just been there a few days ago. He spied Five sitting at the bar and he broke out in a smile.

“Oh, hey there, Fivey.”

With a roll of his eyes, Five took another drink before addressing his brother. “Klaus, I only occupy one room of this crap hole, and it’s the same room every time, so I’m not sure where your confusion is coming from.”

Klaus shrugged, joining Five at the bar and leaning over to grab one of the bottles from underneath. He unstoppered the half-full bottle of vodka and took a swig. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I like pretending we’re in an old sitcom together. You know, like ‘Honey, I’m home!’ and then you run out with an apron and heels on, carrying my favorite drink for me while I sit in an armchair and smoke a pipe.”

Five turned so that he could lean his back against the bartop. “Klaus, in what universe do you think I would be the housewife in that situation?”

Klaus shrugged again, reaching over to ruffle Five’s hair, which earned him a swat on the hand. “I’m not sure, but you’d look awfully cute in an apron.”

“God, you are disturbed.”

“Thank you!” Klaus responded happily before taking another drink. When he lowered the bottle he sighed. “So, what’s been happening around here?”

“Not much. I started that new security job you turned me on to, so thank you for that.”

“Did you? Oh, well that would make sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“My buddy, the one who is friends with your new boss and told me about the job opening, said some psychopath came in there yesterday and shot up the place. Right before demanding he be given the job.”

Five nearly choked on his drink. “What? I didn’t shoot up the place!” Klaus raised a skeptical eyebrow. Five sighed. “It was one, very tiny and very discrete shot into the doorknob of the door. I wouldn’t call that shooting up the place.”

Klaus smiled. “I see.”

“And I certainly didn’t demand the job. It was offered to me before I shot up the place.” He closed his eyes in frustration. “I mean, before I fired the single, harmless shot.”

Klaus chuckled. He loved getting under his brother’s skin. Even if that did put him at risk for bodily harm.

“So, what is this job anyway? You like a security guard at a mall or something?”

“More like a bodyguard.”

That piqued Klaus’s interest and he put his elbow on the bar, propping his head up with his hand as he smiled slyly. “Ohhh…. Tell me more about that!”

“There’s nothing to tell. She’s a dancer and she has a stalker.”

Klaus gasped dramatically. “Dancer? Like a stripper?”

Five scoffed. “No. She’s a ballet dancer.”

There was another loud gasp that prompted an irritated scowl from Five. “A ballerina! Oh, Fivey… this is like some serious romance shit! I can just picture it… the stalker tries to get to the beautiful, helpless ballerina, threatening to kidnap her or worse… but then you swoop in to save the day, knock the guy on his ass, and then guess who gets the girl?”

Klaus waited as if he expected an actual response from Five. When all he received was a blank stare, he poked Five in the shoulder. “You do, silly! No woman can resist a real life hero saving them from the clutches of the evil villain. She’ll probably reward you by immediately jumping those skinny little bones of yours. Do a little tongue pirouette on your downstairs bits, if you know what I mean.”

“Klaus, what the fuck?” Five responded, running a hand down his face in frustration.

“What? I bet she’s rich, too, huh?”

“Not really, no.”

“Oh,” Klaus answered with a disappointed sigh. Then he perked up again. “But mark my words, Fivey. When she sees what a badass killer you are, she’s going to be on you like flies on shit.”

“What a charming visual, thank you for that,” Five sighed.

“You know what I mean. She won’t be able to hold herself back.”

“First of all, stop being a pervert. Second of all, you don’t even know anything about her. I haven’t even told you what she looks like or her age or anything!”

Klaus nodded. “You’re right.” Then he grinned. “She’s hot though, isn’t she?”

Five took another drink, speaking over the top of his glass. “She is moderately attractive.”

“Ha!” Klaus exclaimed, slapping Five on the back and making him slosh his bourbon onto his good suit pants. “I knew it! Well, good for you, Broseph Stalin. It’s about time.”

“About time for what?” Five muttered while he angrily wiped at his pants with a napkin.

“About time for you to get that new and improved dick of yours wet. You’ve been keeping it sealed up for too long. Time to let that bad boy out for some air!”

“Jesus Christ, Klaus!” Five cried, throwing his hands up. “What is your fucking problem? Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“What? I’m trying to help you out!”

“Klaus, the only thing you are doing is reaffirming my decision to live alone.” Klaus put on his best pout and tried to look hurt. Five rolled his eyes before trying to change the subject. “The job pays pretty well at least, so I should be able to get out of here soon.”

Klaus looked around at the sad remains of their childhood home and nodded. Then he turned to Five with an almost nervous smile. “So, if you move out, does that mean no more drop-ins?“

Five sighed and shook his head. He reached over and patted Klaus on the shoulder, although he didn’t make eye contact. “You’re always welcome, no matter where I end up, Klaus.”

Klaus clapped his hands and tried to lean in for a hug, but was met with nothing but empty air as Five blinked away at the last second. Klaus toppled off his barstool in the process, while Five laughed at him from the other side of the bar.

“You’re an asshole,” Klaus grumbled as he hauled himself back up.

Five smirked. “Yeah, I know.”

*************************

Over the next few weeks, you and Five developed a kind of routine. He would arrive at your house and wait outside by the car every morning at 7:00am on the dot. You would stumble your way out somewhere between 7:08 and 7:15. There was the predictable exchange of Five’s irritated grumblings while you blabbered on about whatever it was that made you late that day. It would end with Five taking your bags and opening the car door, all while smiling and shaking his head at your constant state of turmoil.

You liked your little talks in the car to and from the studio. It was awkward in the beginning, but over time it became comfortable. You would chat about your work and rehearsals, and gossip about the other dancers. There was always a love tryst going on somewhere, but you stayed away from all of that. You didn’t need that drama in your life. 

“So, what about you? You never talk about a boyfriend,” Five had asked one day on the way home. You noticed the slight shift in tone when he asked you. Like he was going for an air of casualness but not really pulling it off.

“Oh, no,” you said, waving your hand in the air. “No boyfriend for me.”

“Why not?”

You paused, not really sure how you were supposed to answer that and why he wanted to know. “Well, lots of reasons I suppose. The main one is probably that I’m so busy that I don’t have time to even see my family or friends, let alone a boyfriend.”

“What about the male dancers at your studio?” Five asked, clearly not wanting to drop the subject.

You sighed. “No thank you. Most of them aren’t into women anyway, and the ones that are I have no interest in. Plus I don’t need to be dating anyone from work. I’ve got enough going on.”

Five nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “Good point.”

You leaned back against the backseat and looked out the window. Then you chuckled quietly to yourself.

“What?” Five asked.

“Oh nothing. I was just thinking that you are the closest thing I have to a boyfriend right now.”

There was a moment of silence before you saw Five swallow. “How is that?”

“Well, other than the dancers in my company, you are the person I see the most lately. You’re there when I get up in the morning, you’re there when I come home. You’re one of the only people that has seen inside my mess of a house, including my bedroom. We talk every day and know each other’s personal lives.” You laughed again. “Honestly, the only thing different is that we aren’t fucking.”

Your giggle came to an abrupt halt as you clamped your mouth shut. You don’t even know why you had said that, it just kind of came out. You worried at your bottom lip with your teeth as you tried to decide whether to say anything else to cover it up or just shut your trap and pretend it never happened.

There was a long, silent pause as the car drew to a stop at a red light. Five’s eyes met yours in the mirror and he didn’t look away.

“Well, that figures,” Five said and you saw him smirk. “I get all of the boyfriend duties and none of the perks.”

Your jaw dropped open for a second and then you let go with a loud peal of laughter. You punched him lightly on the shoulder.

“Five Hargreeves! I never knew you made jokes!”

He shrugged, his eyes returning to the road as the light turned green again. “Well, now you know. I’m a fucking comedian.”

That made you laugh even harder and you tried to suppress the smile that kept creeping up the entire ride home. And even though he tried to hide it, Five was wearing one, too.

************************

Your little naughty joke seemed to have broken the last barrier between the two of you, and after that it was like you were an old married couple. When you weren’t having deep conversations and learning about one another’s lives, you were either cracking stupid jokes at the others’ expense or bickering over the smallest things. Within the span of another two weeks, Five had somehow become your friend. And not just a casual one; he had become your number one confidant. You felt comfortable with him. You felt safe. And you were pretty sure he felt the same way about you.

Your stalker continued to show up every day to your studio, just like always. Sometimes he would get out of his truck and stand there, just watching, as you and Five made your way inside. On those occasions when you felt a little more on edge, Five would blink you directly into the building, to avoid the man being able to see you. 

You liked when he blinked you places. He didn’t do it often, but when he did it was like a little adrenaline rush and it always left you laughing. Plus, you couldn’t deny that you liked having him that close to you. He would usually just hold on to your upper arm, but sometimes he would take your hand in his. Once, for no discernible reason, he had wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you in close. There had been a split second when you thought he might kiss you, but before you could even entertain that thought, you were being ripped through a portal and landing on the other side where he let go of you immediately.

Five also started spending more time outside of your rehearsal room. You would catch him through the window, trying to look like he wasn’t interested but failing. You found yourself flaunting your body just a little more when you knew he was looking. Not so much while you were dancing; that you took very seriously and were focused in. But during breaks, when you took a drink from your water bottle, and just happened to let a small river of water slip down your exposed neck and between your breasts. And when you needed to adjust your shoes and would coincidentally bend over directly in front of his sightline. It was silly, but hey, you didn’t have anything else going on in your non-existent love life, so you had to create some excitement.

While you did enjoy each other's company, your relationship never extended past Five’s security duties. Every night he made sure the house was locked up and safe, and every night he left to go back to his decrepit mansion while you stayed in yours. He had given you his number, but you had never had to use it. 

Until you got the fright of your life.

Five had left hours earlier, yet you were still awake and roaming around the spacious house. You settled into a kitchen chair, listening to the sound of the tea kettle on the stove start to come to life with bubbling water. It wasn’t loud enough yet to cover the noise you heard coming from outside, though. A noise that made you freeze like a horror-stricken statue in your seat.

It was the unmistakable sound of car tires rolling slowly up the gravel driveway to your house. The noise became louder until it stopped altogether. And then you heard a car door open and slam shut again.

“Oh my god,” you whispered to yourself.

You hopped up, racing over to the light switch on the wall and clicking it off. Then you crawled into the living room, staying low to avoid the windows, and switched off the lamp you had been reading beside earlier. The house was now in total darkness as you listened to a pair of heavy footsteps make their way to the front door.

You held your breath as you crouched next to one of the old sofas. Maybe it was Five, you thought to yourself. Maybe he forgot something or was just coming to check on you. You rolled your eyes at your stupidness. The footsteps came to a halt near the door. There was a moment of pure terror while you waited for whatever was going to come next.

Would they break a window to get inside? Kick in the door? Would they find you huddled on the ground and put a bullet in your head? Or worse things you didn’t even want to entertain?

After a few seconds, the same footsteps began to retreat and fade further away. You heard the car door open and shut again and the tires crunch on the gravel, presumably as the car backed down the driveway. And then everything was silent again.

When the tea kettle in the kitchen came to a full boil and shrieked its alert to you, you screamed out loud, your voice echoing off the walls. You clapped a hand over your mouth, but started making your way towards the kitchen again, still on your hands and knees. Once you stood and were able to move the kettle off of the burner and silence it again, you leaned against the counter and took in a big, shaking breath.

“Holy fuck,” you cursed.

After at least another ten minutes of keeping still, there were no other worrying sounds from outside or inside, and you switched on the light in the kitchen again. After slowly making your way to the front door, you peered into the peephole. When all you saw was the dark outside and an empty porch, you breathed a sigh of relief. But, like an idiot, that wasn’t enough. Unlocking the door as quietly as possible, you opened it just a crack so that you could quickly peek outside.

There was no one there and you were about to close the door and lock it again, when something caught your eye. In the open maw of one of the lion statues on the porch was a white envelope, giving the illusion that the lion was delivering you some mail. Taking another hurried look from side to side, you leaned over to snatch it up and slammed the door shut, locking it and pressing your back against it while you caught your breath.

With trembling hands, you looked down at the letter-sized envelope in your hand. Your name was typed neatly on the front with a hand-drawn heart next to it. You made a little groaning noise and tried to blink back the tears you felt forming in your eyes.

Five. It was the first thought you had. I need to get to Five.

Chapter 3->

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[eliciana]

Reverse SAGAU: The Weird Door At My Café

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 (Here) |...

Masterlist

Blog Navigation

Tw: Reverse!Isekai!Sagau, Normal Au, Café Au.

Reader: Gn!Reader, Adult!Reader, Cafe Owner!Reader

Characters: Reader, NPC's, Venti, Nahida

Note: Restaurant to Another World animanga inspired au. There is a taglist if you want to be tagged.

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

Mika, your part-time high school helper, scuttled between tables with three plates of lemon tarts perched precariously along her forearms while the bell above the café door sang its familiar chime. You watched from behind the counter, suppressing a grin behind your coffee-stained apron as she negotiated the crushed floor with all the finesse of a tightrope walker. Over the past two weeks, your once quiet café has changed into something alive, bursting now with the clash of silverware and the hiss of the espresso machine, as well as the warm hum of conversation hanging in the air even after closing time.

Mika had been a godsend. Quiet but sharp-eyed, she'd taken to the rhythm of service like she'd been born for it. Just this morning, she'd caught a customer's spilled latte mid-air without breaking stride.

"Table six needs their check," she murmured as she glided past you, now reaching for the dessert menus. "And the gentleman by the window asked if we could refill the lavender cold brew."

"You'll say yes to him, but only because he said something nice about Lena's macarons," I said as I jotted it down. "And by the way, slip him one of the test batches of her passion fruit ganache-discreetly." 

Mika's lips quirked. "Bribery as a business strategy. Noted."

You looked at her smugly and giggled before signalling her to return to her work.

- 

The kitchen doors groaned open and a billow of steam clouded with vanilla came pouring out as Lena carried her tray of perfect éclairs. Hands that moved like a composer-especially every motion being precise, and every garnish placed in intentional elegance-were the magic of this girl, former pâtissier to Le Ciel Blanc. The first time she brought to you a fraisier cake, more perfect than a photoshopped one, you almost kissed her.

"Taste," she demanded again, thrusting a spoonful of silky chocolate toward your face. "The new single-origin blend. Is the acidity too forward?"

You let the ganache melt on your tongue, thinking. "It's bright, but the hazelnut praline balances it. Joon's going to go crazy over this."

And that word summoned Joon to burst through the kitchen doors, his chef's jacket bathed with what seemed to be raspberry coulis. "We need to talk about the sourdough schedule," he announced, waving a clipboard. "The starter's doubling faster since I moved it near the oven. If we adjust proofing times-"

You raised a hand. "Breathe, firecracker."

Joon had reconstructed your entire kitchen within forty-eight hours of being hired. Freshly graduated from culinary school, he had enough raw talent without much common sense. When you had asked him why he chose your café over the Michelin-starred establishments that fought over him, he just grinned and said, "Because you talked to your sourdough starter like it was your emotional support animal. I knew this was where all the real magic happened." 

Now, with the three of them settling into their roles, you finally had time to breathe. 

Which meant that now you could bring your attention back to that door.

-

Mika hummed as she mopped the café now quiet without the last customer present. The sound blended well with the jazz record you'd left spinning on the old turntable.

"Are you sure you wouldn't want me to help close up?" she quipped, hanging up her apron with military precision.

You shook your head. "Go study for your chem test. And take these." You shoved a box of leftover madeleines into her backpack.

Mika simply rolled her eyes. "You're worse than my abuela. See you tomorrow, boss."

At that moment she slammed the door behind her, and the air in the café shifted—like the space between heartbeats. You turned slowly.

There, nestled between flour sacks where it had no right to be, was the door.

Ordinary in every way except how it wasn't. The wood grain shimmered if you stared too long, and sometimes—when the café was empty and the moon was high—you swore you heard singing from the other side.

You exhaled, rolling up your sleeves.

Okay. It is time for another experiment.

--

Experiment #1: The Witness Test

Mrs. Khatri, your regular patron most patient, was sipping her masala chai with polite curiosity while pretending you are reorganizing the storage shelves. You had been brewing tea, talking about her granddaughter's ballet recital, and keeping an eye on the door for two hours.

"Are you expecting any delivery?" she asked as you turned to the door for the seventeenth time.

You nearly spilled a jar of cinnamon. "Just... waiting on a specialty tea order." 

The door looks like it doesn't want to open; it didn't want to have a single crease somewhere in it. 

The moment Mrs. Khatri cleared out with her parting "The cardamom was perfect today, dear," did the brass knob warm up under your fingertips as a sleeping creature that stirs under the absence of its owner.

So. No witnesses. Copy that.

–

Experiment #7: Teyvat's Objects on Earth

The Mora gleamed innocently on your ledger, its golden surface catching the warm lighting of the café. You learned quickly that not all could survive from the other side and continue living in this world, though.

Mist Flowers disintegrated into puddles of sad water. Valberries wilted overnight. But the Mora—the Mora was different.

The jeweler's loupe did tremble in his hand when you brought it to him: "This shouldn't exist," he'd whispered, turning it around. "This metallurgy is impossible—this purity of gold with this level of detail? And the markings..." His eyes snapped to yours. "Where did you really get this from?"

You'd lied smoothly. "A family heirloom." Wow, you really know how to lie between your teeth, huh?

Still, his offer of $2,300 made your palms sweat. 

Note: If Paimon ever finds out I'm sitting on a goldmine, I'm dead.

–

You were making some notes when the freaking door opened on its own.

Your pen froze mid-word.

Wind rushed in, not that stale city air you knew, but something wild and green, smelling of dandelions and distant thunderstorms. And then Venti tumbled through, catching himself hard against the counter.

He wasn't drunk, which was shocking.

The second was the blood matting his hair, the way his fingers trembled around his lyre like it was the only thing tethering him to this world.

"You," he hissed, teal eyes flashing with something ancient and dangerous. "What game are you playing?"

You raised your hands slowly. "No game. This is just my café."

His gaze darted around-the industrial espresso machine, the chalkboard menu, and the glass case displaying Lena's pastries. His nose wrinkled. "It smells like... burned sugar and regret."

"Caramel and ambition," you corrected, then winced. "And you're bleeding on my mahogany." You nudged the first-aid kit toward him.

"Who sent you?" Venti didn't move.

"No one." You kept your voice steady. "That door sometimes connects to other worlds. You're the second to come through."

"Second?" His grip on the lyre tightened.

"The Traveler and Paimon."

Something in his posture eased-just a fraction. "Hah. Should've known those two would find the universe's backdoor." 

-

The antiseptic stung your own hands as you dabbed at his temple. Venti flinched but didn't pull away, his breath warm against your wrist. 

"Stormterror?" you guessed. 

His laugh was brittle. "Among other things." A pause. "You know much for a... what are you, exactly?" 

"Café owner." You pressed the bandage gently. "Part-time interdimensional tour guide." 

Venti snorted, then winced. You slid a mug of cocoa toward him-no alcohol this time. He sniffed it like a suspicious cat before taking a cautious sip. His eyebrows shot up. "Oh. That's... not terrible." 

"It grows on you," you said. "Like moss." 

"Or a fungal infection," he shot back, but the edge in his voice had dulled. 

Outside, rain tapped against the windows like impatient fingers. Venti's hands strayed to his lyre, plucking a melody that made your chest ache-something older than nations, older than gods. 

You pretended not to notice when his playing faltered. 

By the third cocoa refill, Venti had migrated from "hostile intruder" to "annoying housecat," draped across your best booth with his boots on the upholstery. 

"Sooo," he drawled, spinning his empty mug. "This 'café' of yours. You just... feed interdimensional travelers?" 

"Mostly locals," you said, scrubbing an already-clean counter. "You're a special case." 

"Aw, I'm touched!" He grinned, but his eyes stayed wary. "And what do you get out of it?" 

You shrugged. "Good company." 

Venti's smile faltered. For a heartbeat, he looked lost-then he strummed a chord sharp enough to make your glassware vibrate. "Liar." 

You froze.

"Everyone wants something," he murmured, "the Traveler wants to find their sibling." He looked at the archons through narrowed eyes. "Whatever gods seek." His eyes pinned you. "What do you seek?"

The truth clawed at your throat - I just didn't want to be alone - but you swallowed it down. "A five-star Yelp review?"

Venti blinked. Then he laughed, genuine this time, the sound bright as sunlight through stained glass. "Fair enough. Though, what is a Yelp review?"

Soon enough he left.

You looked at the door blankly and took out a ledger.

-

"I'll put that on his tab." You scoffed. The first mug of cocoa you slid to him was just a welcome gift and free, not including his constant refilling.

Three days later, you nearly dropped the tray of éclairs when walking into the pre-dawn quiet café to find Nahida perched on a barstool and swinging her legs. 

"Oh!" She brightened, hopping down. "You're the door's keeper!"

You choked on air. "How-"

"The door told me," she said now, as if there were nothing extraordinary about it. At your shocked silence, she tilted her head, "Not in words, of course. More like... a feeling." Her tiny hands cupped the Cecilia flower Venti had left behind, its petals glowing faintly under her touch. "This remembers you."

"Remembers?" you echoed weakly.

Nahida hummed, those eyes of hers far too knowing for someone who looked like a child. "Memories stick to objects, places, even people." She leaned forward, whisper-soft. "Some of yours smell like us."

Your blood turned to ice.

But Nahida just smiled, sliding off the stool. "Don't worry. I'm just not going to pry." She pressed a crisp recipe card into your hands, Moon Pie, the words flowing with calligraphy. "For when you're ready."

Then she was gone, the door clicking behind her.

The Cecilia pulsed once, twice,

and burst into full bloom.

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

Sorry bout the constant "-" throughout the story. Was kinda having a hard time transitioning but like yes. We ignore that hahahhaha....

Taglist:

@kameyo-kumo @esthelily @haru-tofuu @udretlnea @shining-nebula2000 @ifeellikejumpingoffacliff @resident-cryptid @allblognamesaretakenlikereally @leilakaro @stvrbrighttt @chericia @evaline-ethan @ra404 @mmmhyperfixation @original-person @chaoticfivesworld @lexal-amber-rose @floofeh-purpi @time-shardz @animeobsessed56 @fantasyhopperhea @yuan1819

[aethon-recs]

This Week (x2) in Tomarrymort (22 November – 6 December 2024)

Hi everyone! We’ve had some incredible fic completed in the last couple of weeks, so I’ll highlight those here, before we get into the One Shot and Multi-Chaptered recs below.

Completed Fic:

in the silence by @satflesk22 (E, 48k, complete)

There's a new student at Hogwarts. And, for some reason, he's decided he's going to be Tom Riddle's best friend. Tom, immortal aspiring Dark Lord, apparently has no say in the matter.

You By The Shore by @blackseatwenty (E, 19k, complete)

Harry's grown on the island his whole life. He fell in love with a stranger standing alone by the shore. Or is it crazy to believe in love at first sight?

two ways of being: the noun & the verb by cycloalkane (NR, 8k, complete)

Potter is finishing up with his sketch of the craniofacial structure. There is still more of his body to go, and more sessions left, and Tom cannot be sure whether he wants the precise drawings to be more or less—true, at all, if he could even describe them as untruthful. They aren’t beautiful as Tom is in the mirror, but they are still, undeniably, him, with the eye of someone learning to cut people apart and look beneath their skin, still bloodless yet, and—well. The drawings have a certain quality, something that, perhaps, he’s reading too much into, having associated the sketching with the pose (and Tom, even if he'd never admit it, has always enjoyed being admired), and the look of green eyes flickering between paper and flesh: concentration, in some cases, is only another word for vehemence.

thrown into the nest by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts (T, 12k, complete)

Harry had assumed he was a beta. Well, he had after someone explained the absolute nonsense of secondary genders in mages to him. Then, at the age of sixteen-and-a-half, years after most people present, Harry’s body decides it’s now an omega. It did not consult the rest of him and he’s frankly a little miffed.

*

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Complete | Chapter 12 of in the silence by @satflesk22

Complete | Chapter 5 of You By The Shore by @blackseatwenty

Complete | Chapter 2 of two ways of being: the noun & the verb by cycloalkane

Complete | Chapter 5 of thrown into the nest by @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts

One Shot | The Dark Lord's Hand by @lialepoisson

One Shot | inside (out) by @milkandmoon-ao3

*

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 13 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapter 21 of Heir Apparent by @monsieurclavier

Chapter 66 of draw me after you (let us run) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger

Chapter 9 of Stygian by @crowcrowcrowthing

Chapter 23 of Paved With the Best Intentions by @perhaps-sunlight

Chapter 17 of Pledged by @moontearpensfic 

Chapters 15 and 16 of Hole in the Wall by @elddrmot

Chapter 1 of On the subject of wanting by @themothatyourdoor

Chapters 135 through 137 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapter 1 of In the Shape of Fear, Erised by @rowena-rain

Chapter 3 of A Murder by Crows by @iseliljathedreamer

Chapter 6 of Saturnalia by @the-wig-is-a-metaphor

Chapter 11 of Strings of Fate by @solelyseeking

Chapters 7 and 8 of you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria

Chapter 22 of Outrunning the Villain in You by @zenyteehee

Chapter 26 of Time Stumbler by @wintumnly

Chapter 4 of Goodbye Evergreen by @v33r00 

Chapter 7 of Dreams Beyond Blood by @hikarimeroperiddle

Chapters 15 through 18 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 64 of Holly & Yew by @lovely-lotus

Chapter 3 of Auror Potter by @albondiguilla007

Chapter 19 of with eyes like these (who sees anybody else) by @cealesti

Chapters 10 and 11 of Venom or Valor by @lightningant

Chapter 26 of would that i'd loved (long ago) by @sprst1tion

Chapter 10 of A Snake in the Grass by @teaandsweaters9

*

[casuallyanidiot]

The Beta Test | Chapter 3

[yandere M x Gn reader]

Local party animal and known social butterfly [name] wakes up to find that they've been abducted by their very reclusive and very wealthy classmate. Why, you might ask, did he do this? Well for one reason of course! He needs to know how he's going to talk to his crush! So now, with their freedom on the line, [name] has to figure out how to get this kid with the one of his dreams or risk never leaving at all. Lots of weird conversations ensue, of course.

1.8 k words Tw. Stalking, swearing, confinement, invasion of privacy, yandere Chapter 2 Table of Contents

“ Are you trying to starve yourself?” Javier kicked at the plate halfheartedly. His eyebrows were pushed up into a concerned expression.

 After a few more fucking hours, you had resorted to flopping around your cell in various states of boredom. Currently, your back was against the hard floor while your legs were straight up against the wall. All your limbs had gone numb and you were left feeling like they were made out of some atrocious energy drink that would’ve had a near-illegal amount of caffeine. Of course, you could barely understand what he was saying. It could have been all the blood rushing to your head, but it was probably more that you were literally five seconds away from going rabid with hunger. 

 “ No,” you said simply. It was a struggle to move, but you managed to roll over onto your side.

 “ Then why is all the food still here?” His voice was low and clear. From where you were on the ground, you could see the black leather bag that hung off one of his bony shoulders. It was slid off with a shrug and hit the ground with a threatening thud. You blinked slowly as you pressed your cheek into cold concrete. 

 “ I asked you for a fork but you didn’t give me one,” you answered with a weak shrug. His eyes widened in what you could only describe as a goofy manner as he shot his gaze down to his feet again. He became pretty flustered, shifting from foot to foot and crossing his hands behind his back. 

 “Oh…” He muttered out quietly. He turned away and began to fiddle with his bag, placing it on the table before pulling out various packets and folders. He refused to look at you now. You probably would’ve been more pissed if it weren’t for the fact that you were running on fumes. Not to mention, you were very thirsty and needed to pee. Like a lot. Some rummaging sounds came from him, but you weren’t exactly paying attention anymore. It wasn’t until you heard some faint clinking and his footsteps that you craned your stiff neck to look at what he was doing.

 “ Okay, um, so I’m gonna take you out now,” Javier spoke like he was unsure of himself, and for once you could see why because he was holding in his hands a pair of cuffs. 

 “ Uh what the hell is that,” you croaked out. 

 “ It’s handcuffs haha. You can see that right? Is your vision blurry? Maybe that medicine had a worse effect than I thought…” He was smiling at first, but his face soon morphed into one of worry. He rushed up to the bars and crouched slightly to better see you. 

 “ It was a figure of speech, man,” you lazily waved, and you watched as he slumped in relief. Wait- hold up. The thing about the drugs and all. Did he dope you up without knowing what it would do to you? Yikes, what a shitty thing to do. 

 “ Ah okay. Phew, alright, uh, I’m gonna get you out of here so you can use the um, bathroom and then I’ll get someone to bring you something so you can eat. After that we’ll get started.” he placed a bony, veiny hand over his chest like his heart was about to bust out like the kool aid man. All you could do was glare at him. Though it was hard to not perk up at the mention of another person. With the way he carried himself, it was very easy to forget that this guy was probably really well connected and (allegedly, though now you could say definitely) had a crazy amount of money. Anyways, considering all that stuff, it wasn’t illogical to assume that he had help with this fucked up plot he had hatched on you. 

But it wasn’t really a question if you could find someone else in… wherever you were, but rather if they would actually risk their job security and actually help you out here. 

 “ Uh okay, um, so I’m gonna go in there now. Just, um, stay where you are,” he said and pulled out his phone from his sweatpants. With a couple of harsh taps to the screen, a cool hiss came from one of the walls as a couple of the bars swung open like a little door seamlessly. Your mouth was wide open at this because why the hell would you not be absolutely floored by that amount of ridiculousness this man was subjecting you to. Javier entered your cell like it was the simplest thing in the world, and for once he seemed to actually take in your exaggerated expression. He glanced back at the contraption with confusion, and when he turned back to you, a smug little smile was plastered all over his face.

 “ Oh? This? I actually came up with the release and lock mechanism myself. It was actually pretty easy to figure out haha. Though, I don’t know if you would be able to say the same,” he explained as he stooped down to reach for your wrist. The cold metal bit into your skin as the band was clicked into place. He tugged at it for good measure before letting out a satisfied little huff. He was way too happy for you to feel anything but unease. Honestly, the nerve of him. 

 “ Okay, get up.” The chain from the cuffs was actually pretty long. Not that the fact made your situation any better, but it was kinda interesting. Or at least, it was interesting until Javier stuck the other one onto himself. You slumped your head back dramatically. Of course. Of course he would do that. Why would he not? After all, it was like it was his whole life’s mission to annoy you as much as he possibly could. When you didn’t immediately start pushing off the ground, you were nudged by his foot gently.

 “ Hey… uh come on.”

 “ My legs are asleep,” you explained dryly, not even bothering to look at him more. You weren’t lying. Over the course of the few minutes that he had been milling about in the room, your limbs had grown increasingly heavy and numb.

 “ Oh. Um, that’s alright. I can, I can help you.”

 His very chilly fingers grabbed onto your upper arm before he tried to jerk you up. Your legs came crashing down from the wall, and he seemed to be startled by this because he dropped your limp body back onto the floor. He let out a little gasp and covered his mouth with his hands as you groaned on the floor like a wounded soldier.

 “ What the hell man?” You groaned. You weakly rolled over and started to move your arms in an effort to finally get up. Using the wall as a guide, you managed to stumble up. You did all this with no help from Javier, of course.

" Okay! We're good now!" He said cheerily. You glowered at him a bit, but he didn’t notice and then started to pull you out of your cell. You tripped over your own feet, but the chain kept you moving forward. You stared at his back, shrouded and swamped in his large baggy shirt, and continued to keep your gaze steady when he would glance behind. 

You had met a ton of people over the years, and all of them were different in various ways. You had been acquainted with the most batshit, off the wall individuals in the world, but never had you seen someone so unwilling to actually listen to something else. This man was like a projector, and it seemed that he thought you were a blank canvas. Did he also view the girl he liked like this? Was she just some poor person who made the mistake of listening to his insane ramblings? What would he even ramble on about if he did? 

You blinked in surprise as the main door had been opened. Javier wordlessly led you through into a blank hallway all with other sets of doors. You curiously eyed the electronic pads stationed above the handles. He placed his hand on one, and it hummed before flashing green and beeping. He stepped back as it opened to reveal an all-white bathroom. 

“ Okay, here you go.”

“ Dude I am not going in with you.” Despite the fact that you were deadass tired, you still could muster the energy to wave your arm in a pissed-off manner. Javier just stood there like a deer in headlights. His eyebrows were pinched up in an almost frightened manner. Guess pissing was too far for even him.

So, you ended up doing your business with his back turned to you. As humiliating as it was, there was no denying that you had to go. Shame burned on your cheeks the whole way, and they continued to after you finished up and found yourself back in the room. Now you had been sat at the table directly across from him.  

The chain was laid limply on the flat surface; Your lips were pursed in a flat line as a plate was slid to you along with a pair of chopsticks. You shot him a nasty glare while he fidgeted. You gingerly held up the utensils and poked at the clumps of rice and vegetables. While you wanted to tear in so badly, you feared the large possibility that he had done something funky with it. Though, looking at it again, it wasn’t like you weren’t already deep in this hole, so you might as well chow down while you could. It was assumed that the meal had been brought by some phantom employee while the two of you had been in the restroom.

As you brought the food to your lips ( delicious, by the way. Almost worth getting kidnapped for), a manilla folder appeared right before your eyes. It held an ominous air around it. The bad vibes were so extremely potent that the wonderful bite you were working on turned into a flavorless lump. You swallowed hesitantly.

Javier didn't say anything. He was too wrapped up in fidgeting in his seat. His dark eyes slipped off into random corners of the space. Your brows furrowed as you took in his shifty form. Setting down the chopsticks, you reached for the small stack of papers. The ridges of the information inside pressed against the pad of your finger harshly, and you sucked in an uneasy breath. With a quick flip of the wrist, you were met with a photo of a smiling girl. Your palms instantly became sweaty; you looked up to see the nervous smile spread over his chapped lips. You steadied yourself with a long drawn out sigh as you brought the folder closer.

“ All right… Let’s get started.” 

Tag list <3 @crsdf4everr

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 4/?

Sorry for the short chapter with the wait, but! This was supposed to be a 5+1 scenario thing, and I got all of the 5 scenarios finished (other than a grammar read through), so that means I have stuff that I can actually schedule posting :3 Next chapter on Sunday! (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn

Wordcount: 1042

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

You shouldn’t have left as quickly as you did, you realize in hindsight.

You had gone there to talk, to make some sort of deal so you could minimize the side effects, and the amount spent with your soulmate. Instead of the universe letting you follow your plan, you found out you had another soulmate, fought him (for less than a minute), tore your stitches, and then got stitched up by your first soulmate.

It was a lot.

Confusing, a mess, weird. 

So you panicked, and ran.

At least it seems they are managing to tame their bonds to you somewhat, as you no longer constantly feel their full feelings in the back of your mind. 

It’s like a river constantly going in your head. You can always hear it in the distance, but you can’t tell if it’s high or low or especially ferocious at the time, just that it’s always there. You could step closer, pay more attention, but Wade and Logan have built walls around their thoughts, stemming the flow. Your own walls are up too, keeping most of your feelings from flowing to them. You had to watch several videos about how to put them up, and you’re not sure how solid they are, but at least you know if anything seeps through it will be muted.

You absentmindedly wonder if it’s easy for them, if they’ve had training with each other. How long have they been together even? You shake your head, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that the bonds have turned to a low hum, almost like the noise of a fridge that you can tune out as background noise, instead of everongoing chatter.

You are happy about that.

So you don’t seek them out again. 

You don’t want to. 

For as long as you can.

You know you will have to eventually, the side effects will not be pleasant.

But for now, you don’t want them near you.

However, it seems the universe has other plans for you.

Because of fucking course it does.

You meet Wade first, again. 

While working, again.

It’s only been a week, and though Evelyn had told you to rest, there is no rest for the wicked. Or something like that.

The job was supposed to be easy anyway.

Emphasis on supposed to.

Because the universe decides to send Wade your way.

Of fucking course.

It was just being a guard at some rich guy's house party, standing with another guard, keeping watch. This time you remembered your gloves (even if they are redundant now). Plenty of booze, food, drugs, women and men in skimpy clothing. So far it had gone well, the only thing you had had to do was turn down a few unwanted advantages from some of the aforementioned skimpily clothed people that had gotten terribly lost in their drunken and drugged state.

All you had done was go to the bathroom, checking on your bandages quickly and taking a piss.

When you return, it’s to find the other guard slumped against a wall. You swear, running over, checking for a pulse as you kneel down, gun now in hand. He’s breathing, you reach for your radio, but stop as you feel a gun pressed into the back of your skull.

Fuck.

“Should you even be working right now?”

Double fuck.

You turn around, the gun backs off just enough that it doesn’t brush your nose as you turn around. It follows you as you stand up, your own gun still in your hand, though you don’t aim it.

“Wade.” One of your soulmates- The man stands in front of you, dressed in a red suit like the first time you saw him, weapons and all. One of them is currently pointing at you.

“Awwww, you remember my name!” The gun is aimed at your forehead. Around the muzzle it says “smile for the flash” in golden letters. You think you should feel some fear, but there’s none.

You lean forward, saying nothing while keeping a straight face, wondering if you will feel its cold kiss against the warm skin of your forehead. Before you can, Wade shifts the gun so it’s aiming at your shoulder instead, face still and unreadable to you behind his mask.

“You really should be resting, pookie, wounds like that don’t heal overnight, and even if you might get some of our healing eventually, we have not spent any time together for that to happen!” His tone is chipper, if a little strained. Your anger mixes with confusion, and though you want to ask what the fuck he means, you ask something completely different instead.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Now you can tell he’s pouting under the mask as you look him up and down.

“Boooo, keeping it professional. Oh well, I’ll get more of you later. I’m here to scare the ever living shit out of the shady guy that hired you, so he’ll cough up the fuck-ton of money he owes the shady people that hired me. Can’t kill him, but I can maim. And kill people in the way.” That last part is added as an afterthought, and if the universe was any part sane, you would feel a tinge of fear.

It’s not though, so all you feel is annoyance.

“God damn it Wade.” You rub your face, debating on shooting him just so he’ll do something about his own gun that’s still aimed at your shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, a phrase loved by many. Oh, since I’m at work, it’s Deadpool. Sorry in advance.”

“Wha-” You don’t get to say anything more, as the butt of Wade’s gun connects with your head, and the world goes black.

—--

When you wake up, it’s to the fire alarm blaring and the sprinklers going, soaking everything and everyone..

Wade, or Deadpool, you guess, did not kill the guy he was after. He did maim him though (he is missing a leg now), and then seemingly for funsies, set a vase of roses on fire in the guy’s bedroom.

Because of this, your clothes are still soggy by the time you make it home, and you curse up a storm as you peel yourself out of them, a headache forming.

Fucking Deadpool.

Fucking Wade.

(Part 5)

[maeedrg]

What are we ?

part 3

fake dating Gojo X fem reader

ᯓ★

MASTERLIST of the series

part 2 part 3 part 4

Synopsis : After months, you and Satoru are still stuck in this dance of playing to pretend. But you both never mentioned back what happened to the jacuzzi. The tension became unbearable, but everything goes down the hill when the higher ups attempt to get rid of you as you were considered useless now. At the same time, they take matters in their hand to find a new suitor for him. Gojo can’t bear the thought of losing you, and he makes a decision for your safety. One that was apparently for the best.

Words count : 7.8k.

Warnings : many deaths and attempt murder, blood, angst, spoilers of the shibuya incident and what comes after, some satosugu implied, beginning of the smut, doomed love, but still some fluff.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : "I can’t wait to show this amazing chapter to other people !" I said with excitement. "Hey what do you think of this chapter ?" "It’s fucking shit !" Said the fuck you guy.

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Months. It’s been months, damn months now, that you and Satoru were fake dating. You didn’t know if you turned crazy, the tension being too thick, too palpable, too much. After what happened in the jacuzzi, Satoru and you never did such a thing again. Even in public, when having to prove a point, the touch of his lips against yours was short, quick, way too quick, actually. Like something burning you, but aching to play with fire longer. Yet, you were left wanting, needy. Months of dreaming of being able to feel again what you had at the hotel. Months of dying to have more. Months of turning mad, as waiting became now impossible.

You didn’t know what Satoru was thinking. Entering the head of The Strongest was something you couldn’t hope to succeed. Years of keeping everything to himself made him extremely good at hiding his feelings and real emotions. This dangerous game of lingering touches, sentences, playing the role of your boyfriend way too realistically, made you wonder what was happening. But unable to know was making you want to rip your hair off your head.

You weren’t the only one to turn crazy. Satoru was as well. Truly falling in madness at stopping himself from going farther. After what happened in the jacuzzi, he realized that if you didn’t stop him, you two would have crossed a line that he was dying to cross, but terrified as well. Because he knew damn well, that once he would, he would be doomed. Doomed because it would be impossible to run away from the responsibilities of his love for you. Satoru was used to loving you in secret. He couldn’t accept that all the time he spent hiding his feelings would go to waste. Because even if he was deeply in love with his best friend, he couldn’t have a happy life dating her. Dating you. He understood that well when playing pretend, even if he understood it already back in highschool, years ago, when his love just started blooming in the innocence of the youth.

Being The Strongest meant any happiness would be taken away from him. Because of his title, and also because of himself. He felt like what happened to Suguru was his own fault, and he would never forgive himself if something happened to you as well. He couldn’t bear to lose you, destroying everything because of his carelessness. After all, in his eyes, dating someone was a far greater commitment compared to friendship. What if he hurted you, and would be a horrible boyfriend ? What if overworking himself would make you hate his absence ? What if him being scared of vulnerability would make you resent him from not opening up ? What if you would break up with him and leave him forever ? He already struggled to be a good best friend, because he did fail once. So being a good boyfriend ? It was terrifying. 

In the end he only danced on the line of real and false, enjoying flirting with you, acting like your boyfriend, without the real commitment of his feelings, of his fears, of his nightmares. Satoru wasn’t strong, he was weak, for you. It was better that way, he thought. He wasn’t yours, you weren’t his. But at least, you stayed by his side. 

“Satoruuuu, you’re zoning out. It’s your turn !” you exclaim, waving your uno cards in front of the white haired male, that quickly snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Uh ?” he blinks, before looking down at his cards and remembering he had to play the combo he wanted to do. Quickly, he puts three cards on the top of the pile.

“I’m soon leaving for my mission, so let’s finish playing before I go,” you explain, your turn now.

“Hmmm, yep,” he hums, still trying to forget whatever he was deeply thinking about. He had to act like everything was okay, and avoid looking too much at your face, or else… he might lose it and kiss you senseless before he could even realize what he was doing. He clears his throat before asking, “where was your mission again ?”

“In an abandoned hospital. Apparently it’s only some grade 3 curses, it would be easy,” you explain, looking at your cards.

“If you need my help, call me. I’ll be very happy to ditch my meeting with the elders and instead come save your ass,”he says, flashing you his usual cheeky grin.

“I don’t need you to save my ass for some low grades, Satoru,” you chuckle, rolling your eyes at his bravado. 

“I just want to be your knight in shining armor,” he pouts, answering that, before suddenly putting a +4 on the pile. You groan, glaring at him, before taking your due, annoyed. You only had two cards left, and now, six ! He could go to hell, you thought.

“Just say you don’t want to go to your meeting,” you end up replying a bit bitterly, and he just looks smugly at you, grinning widely like an idiot. He was proud of himself. This bastard.

“Exactly, I don’t want to go there and see their annoying old wrinkled face. They changed the location last minute too, it’s not where we usually go,” he huffs, shaking his head.

“Where ?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, intrigued. It wasn’t common, so it seemed weird to you.

“Somewhere in Tokyo, around 20 minutes away from the campus,” he explains, shrugging, putting his hand in his hair.

“Then once you finish your meeting, and once I finish my mission, let’s go to the arcade,” you propose, deciding to cheer him up, and mostly wanting to spend time with him.

“Is it a date ? You charm me, honey...” he coos, winking at you behind his sunglasses, and you can’t help but giggle at his antics.

“Yeah baby girl, I’m a good girlfriend, aren’t I ?” you joke back in a teasing way, hoping to make him cringe, but that only fuels his amusement and eagerness.

“The best,” he drawls, charming, before continuing in a calmer manner, laying back in his seat, “then let’s go to your place after. I wanna eat fast food and binge watch the last episodes of the show we were watching last time.”

“Why my place ? It’s always my place !” you exclaim, faking the feeling of being offended.

“I like… almost live there, so your place it is,” he shrugs nonchalantly. And damn, he was right. 

“You should pay rent,” you add, huffing. 

“Me spoiling you with food and shopping counts as rent,” he replies confidently, giving you a look with his eyes that means business, and you can’t help but fluster slightly.

“Yeah sure-”

“Uno !” he suddenly cuts you by screaming the word. You open wide your eyes, horrified that you lost and didn’t realize he only had one card now.

“No !”

Quickly after, he wins. You are left defeated, and end up leaving annoyed as he on purpose teased you non stop, saying you just were a sore loser. Satoru could be the loveliest when he wanted, but the most obnoxious and infuriating person in the world as well. Yet, you still loved him for that.

Walking towards your mission, you sigh, needing to snap back of your thoughts and get concentrated and focus your mind on your task. Even if it was supposed to be only some low grades, you could never let your guard down.

And you were right for that. Because Satoru and you weren’t the only one that were going crazy after months of ‘dating’ and nothing happening. The elders weren’t happy at all that you both didn’t fulfill your duties ; marry and then produce heirs. Their old fashioned way of thinking was the way they thought was right. After seeing there was no progress, they decided to seriously act and change plans. You were useless in their eyes. For their sexist mind, if you were unable to be a good woman, becoming a wife and giving children to The Strongest, then you could die. After all, they just wanted for their strongest sorcerer to quickly create new soldiers (his children). 

Now, they had to get rid of you in a way or another, and on the other hand, to find someone more suited for the role of becoming Gojo’s wife. You were like a pawn, he was one too. The game didn’t play the way they wanted. Now, you were thrown in the trash.

Walking towards your mission was the steps towards your upcoming grave.

And Gojo walking towards his meeting with the higher ups, was actually his walk towards a closed destiny, and towards the new pawn that would be his supposed future wife. 

Truly, fake dating Gojo Satoru brought you bigger problems than you ever expected.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

Satoru was sitting in his car, parked some streets away from the place the meeting would normally be. He sighed, clearly not wanting to deal with any more bullshit the higher ups would give him. He groans as he tilts his head backwards, staring at the ceiling before pulling his phone off his left pocket. The home screen was a picture of you and him, one where his arm is around your shoulder, and his mouth biting your cheek as you laugh heartily. He chuckles slightly, staring at the screen like an idiot, as if it would give him some strength for what was about to come. He decides to send you a message, even though you still didn’t answer the last one he sent since you went to that mission thirty minutes ago. Obviously, you were busy. But Gojo was clingy, and had no real personal space with you.

Two minutes pass. You still didn’t answer. He decided it was surely and sadly time to get out of his car and meet the elders. He checks his watch : he was late. Who cares ? He shrugs and closes the door behind him before walking nonchalantly towards the building, hands in his pocket.

Once he stands in front of the location, he realizes it’s a restaurant. A fancy one that he already had to attend to once, for a gathering with some head clans. Alright, that wasn’t so weird, but still unusual to have the elders wanting to discuss with him in front of a meal. He enters, and is quickly greeted by a waitress that makes him follow her. He arrives in front of a door, as each room was separated to allow the clients to eat in privacy. He takes off his shoes and enters the private room, before stopping dead in his tracks.

“Oops, sorry miss. I got the wrong room. Enjoy your meal,” he says, flashing an awkward smile to the woman sitting in front of the table that had numerous plates full of food. But the woman elegantly raises her head and flashes him a smile. He ignores it and turns around, ready to leave.

“Gojo Satoru, it’s nice to meet you. This is not a mistake, we were meant to meet,” she simply answers in a calm voice while sipping on her tea. He raises his eyebrow, turning around to face her. She knew who he was, so that meant... He notices the type of cursed energy moving inside her body. She is a jujutsu sorcerer. But not a very strong one.

“I’m here to have a meeting with the higher ups, miss. Sorry, I can’t be your date,” he replies, tilting his head to the side to eye her down and analyze the woman sitting calmly, but something cunning emanating from her. He directly was on his guard, staying put on his feet.

“You are my date.” 

“I have a girlfriend,” he corrects immediately.

“Not anymore,” she whispers, glancing at him. He frowns, not liking at all where this was going.

“What do you mean ?” he snarls, stepping closer to loom over here.

“You don’t have a meeting with the elders, but a date with me. Pleased to meet you,” she explains in a soft voice, but the smirk drawing itself on the corner of her lips betrayed her calm figure. He frowns, all cockiness leaving his face to look at her emotionless. The higher ups had the fucking nerve to trick him, and they will pay for that. Did they think he was stupid ? Did they think they could control his life as they wanted ? Him having you as his girlfriend should have stopped them from trying to force him to meet possible arranged wives. But forced to notice, he was wrong. They barely lasted some months before going back to their bullshit and trying to force him to marry someone. He understood the reason why : since you and him decided to only ‘date’, and nothing more, they got impatient that nothing was happening like they wanted. So, they decided that your couple was now useless, and they wanted to replace you. That was predictable, now that he thinks about it. 

He sighs, and then she says her name. He directly recognizes her as the sister of someone he had to deal with for some business of the Gojo Clan. Least to say, this family was annoying to work with.

“Ok, what the fuck is going on ? Don’t tell me these old geezers lied to my face, and instead sent me on an arranged date ? Look, you are very lovely, but this won’t do. I already have a girlfriend,” he spats, annoyed now as his eyes portrayed the coldness of blue he only had when being mad. Which was rare.

“As I said, not anymore,” she corrects, a hint of arrogance in her voice.

“Aren’t you too confident ? Thinking you can take her place like that ?” he says threateningly, not wanting to joke around like he usually does. He had no time nor any patience for that right now. This really struck a nerve.

“No. It’s just how it is. The elders arranged this, as I will soon be your wife,” she shrugs answering that, sipping on her cup of tea before putting it down and looking back at him, clearly not intimidated.

“Excuse-me ?” he chuckles, offended. Wife ? Seriously ?

“An arranged marriage, if you prefer,” she adds unbothered.

“And you agree to that ?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

“Yes. It’s a dream to marry The Strongest and give him heirs,” she answers as if it was the most logical reply she could give him. Oh, this poor girl was brainwashed. For sure. 

“Look : you and I will never marry, and nothing of that shitty plan they try to arrange. If I had to marry someone, it would be my girlfriend, and nobody else. Yeah, understood ? Good. So, goodbye,” he ends up exclaiming before turning on his hills, opening the door of the private restaurant room to leave. He puts on his shoes in a swift move, before getting interrupted by her voice.

“You can’t marry someone that is dead.” Satoru freezes. What did she mean by that ?!

“Dead ?” he asks, unsure.

“Dead.”

He slams the door behind him, his blood turning cold. It didn’t take more than a second for Satoru to understand what was happening. He was far from stupid, after all. And he was used to the doings of the corrupted elders. The mission you got sent to was your grave. One meant to kill you.

His stomach drops, and he doesn’t waste any more time, trying to call you while he rushes towards the location of your mission. An abandoned hospital that was close enough of the campus to go there by walking : there was only one place possible. His heart quickens, but then stops when you don’t answer.

Fuck. Dread is written all over his face, and Gojo Satoru is panicking. Panicking like he never panicked before. He teleports, entering his car and rushing towards the road, not caring about the red lights. You could be dead right now, cold body covered in blood, alone and forever. No, no, no. He couldn’t accept it.

He never regretted more in his life the decision to have you pretend to be his girlfriend. It just confirmed that Gojo Satoru could never have the chance to fully love someone before getting all hopes destroyed, and them getting hurt because of him.

He prayed to Gods and Heavens that you were alright, believing in the faith that you were a strong girl that could defend herself even against death itself. His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel, accelerating dangerously on the road, near causing many accidents.

Please, please, please. Be alright. 

His heart was beating so loudly that he could only hear the heavy throbs of it. Once he arrives at the location, he teleports inside the veil that you casted. If it was still up, you surely were still alive. But at what cost ? He promised himself that once he will have you back in his arms, safe and sound, he will avenge you, and make them regret what they did to you. He promised himself that he would never cause any hurt to you. He failed. And he promised himself that if it was the only right solution for you and your safety ; he would never see you again. Being close to him only brings you misery, that’s what he thought. Actually, he brought misery to anyone that got too close. Suguru was the proof, the one and only that he had to kill by his own hands because of his own failing.

He searched for your presence, ears ringing loudly and only having one goal right now : finding you.

He was as quick as light speed itself, dread eating him all over, like a plague consuming his body. He stopped dead in his tracks when he entered the left building, and found the walls of the destroyed courtyard covered in blood. Not human blood, but curses blood. Every single one of them exploded and shattered to dust in what seemed like agony, all around… you.

He murmured your name, eyes wide open, sensing you standing in the middle of your domain expansion. He entered it without any difficulty ; it was prone to crumble any second, feeling how your cursed energy was getting weaker each second that passed.

Trembling, scared, here you were, barely holding to life, standing in a sea of red in the strange calmness of your domain. The moment you feel a presence entering it, you try to see what or who it was, but your weak body only allows you to see blur. In an ultimate attempt to protect yourself, you lift your hand, ready to unleash your one last bit of cursed energy to destroy your opponent, even if you would die doing this.

Satoru rushes towards you, and as you are about to strike in a last breath, you feel strong arms surrounding you and cradling you like a broken doll against a chest.

“Y/n ! It’s me, it’s me. Everything is over, everything,” he whispers in a wavering voice, hugging you firmly. You recognized that familiar scent.

“Satoru… ?” you mumbled, panting and having a hard time inhaling. Satoru was beyond relieved, thanking the universe and thanking your resilience to having managed to survive. He couldn’t bear the idea of having to go to your funeral. Gladly, you were alive. Alive became his favorite word as he looked at you with tears in his eyes. Was he crying ? He didn’t know, didn’t have time to focus on himself when you were in the crook of his chest.

“You did so well. You killed all the curses. You survived. I’m so proud of you. Let’s get you home. Ok ?” The moment his voice murmurs softly in your ear these reassuring words, your body shuts down. Immediately. Your domain expansion disappears, the veil as well, and you simply faint for good in the arms of the person you loved the most, and almost died for.

Satoru kisses the top of your head, checking your vitals. That was bad. Very bad. He scoops you up, and doesn't wait any more minute, bringing you to the campus. His new priority right now : keeping you alive.

Killing the higher ups would come later. Even if it takes months to plan. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

“Gojo, she’s alright. It’s been days now. Let her sleep. I promise she will be able to go home tonight,” sighs the brown haired woman, taking off her gloves as she finished to check your vitals, looking at the white haired sorcerer sitting next to your bed in the infirmary of the school.

“I can’t, I have to make sure that she truly is safe,” he answers firmly, his gaze not leaving your peaceful face. You weren’t in a coma or anything, just sleeping. After the mission, Gojo brought you to Shoko, her having to directly perform urgent rct over your body before it would be too late. Since then, you stayed at the infirmary for monitoring, making sure you would soon be back as healthy as before. The first time you woke up, Satoru didn’t say much, only telling you that everything was fine, and explaining to you what actually happened.

But, he strangely was silent. Just staying by your side, barely talking to you and doing nothing aside from holding your hand, keeping you company. He clearly was lost in thoughts, and too tired to ask why he was like that, you stayed silent as well the following days. On this friday afternoon, once you would wake up from your nap, you would finally be able to go back to the usual. But what would be the usual if your relationship with your best friend, supposed boyfriend, became like that out of nowhere ? You were confused.

“Who would have thought you could care so much for someone to the point of not letting them breathe ? She’s fine. Drop it, geez,” adds Shoko, shaking her head and looking at Gojo’s back facing her.

“I have a heart, Shoko. I’m not as insensitive as you think,” he ends up answering more coldly than he wanted. She stares at him, realizing that he really wasn’t acting like usual. Normally, he would laugh it off. Not now.

“You only are for a very few people,” she continues more softly, and she was right. Gojo knew she was damn right. 

“Because I can’t become emotional for every person around me getting hurt and dying. In this line of work, it’s something way too common. If I got worried for everyone, it would never end. That’s how it is,” he explains sighing, squeezing your hand while talking. Gojo being Gojo, for the sake of his title and his duty, he couldn’t allow himself to get affected by his work. That was taking away a part of his humanity, but he couldn’t fight against it. After all, somewhere along the way there was a line he drew not as a human, but as a living creature.

“I know. Everybody becomes like that eventually. But it’s still shocking to see you acting this way. The last time I did see you like that, was with Geto. You... didn’t even want to let me autopsy his body,” she answers, recalling the very few moments in life she saw The Strongest crumbling, which was extremely rare. And what happened on the 24 of december, was something that Satoru himself didn’t want to talk about, because it would be too painful. 

“...” he doesn’t answer, keeping his gaze steady on your sleeping face.

“We still don’t know what you did with his body, after you killed him. But, I’m not forcing you to talk about it. So, I’ll let you be for now,” Shoko ends up saying more softly, giving him what seemed like an apologetic smile before walking towards the door. As she puts her hand on the door handle, she stops, hearing his voice.

“Shoko.”

“Yes ?”

“Let me deal with y/n once she wakes up. I want to be alone with her. I’ll bring her home myself,” he asks, more like orders, not wanting it to be another way.

“As you wish…” she whispers, and steps out of the room, leaving the two of you alone in the lingering silence of the infirmary.

Not so long after, you woke up from your nap. Gojo helps you sit down, even if you don't need any help, and you stretch.

“I’ll bring you home,” he simply announces.

“Will you stay at my place ?” you ask, unsure, trying to see if he would react like usual. Meaning he would cheerfully say it shouldn’t even be a question, and that your home was basically his home. Hell, he would even correct you saying ‘our place’. But, he does none of that. You frown at his lack of answer as he silently takes your bag that was on the chair some meters away.

“I’ll bring you home,” he repeats instead, and makes you follow him. You look disappointed, not liking what was happening. Why was he suddenly so distant yet so close ? Not leaving your side for days, but emotionally far away ?

The walk is silent, occasionally trying to make conversation, but it just ended up in a fail. Was he mad at you ? But why would he ? Once you arrive at your apartment, Satoru doesn’t even take off his shoes, staying at the entry. You frown, turning to face him.

“You’re good ?” he asks, looking at you as if to memorize your face one last time.

“Yeah, I am. Shoko healed me perfectly. I’ll probably eat something, I’m starving. Want me to order food for you too ? Some pizza ? We could watch a mo-” you start to propose, desperately trying to make it seem like everything was normal, silently begging him to accept and act like your best friend. Like the usual, normal.

“Y/n,” he interrupts you. You lift your head, and the look on his face makes your stomach drop. Pain and coldness was written all over his face. Why was he looking at you like that ? What the hell was going on ?

“Yes ?” you reply in a smaller voice, scared of what was about to come.

“I think we should stop seeing each other,” he announces, dropping it like a bomb. You swear you just felt your heart crumble into pieces. Damn pieces. 

“What ?” you stutter, voice cracking.

“It’s better like that, Y/n,” he says, unable to look anymore into your eyes, staring away. You frown, putting your hand over your chest, stepping closer.

“What the hell are you even talking about ? Are you serious right now… ?” You couldn’t believe it. That couldn’t be real. That was a living nightmare. No, no, no.

“I am,” he simply answers. 

“You- you can’t just break our friendship like that, after more than ten years being at your side !” you yell, breathing heavily, anger rising and blood boiling. You couldn’t just accept that. 

“I can, I’m sorry,” he whispers, jaw clenching and slowly looking back at you. He felt like dying when he saw the tears in your eyes ready to spill all over your pained face.

“No, you’re not sorry ! And what about this whole dating thing ?! That means we did this for nothing ? The higher ups will have the opportunity now to arrange a marriage and-”

“This will not happen,” he interrupts you firmly.

“But- and us ? Was my help faking being your girlfriend useless ?” you question, your voice breaking even more, feeling betrayed and as if your world was crumbling all around you.

“Look where it brought you, y/n. You nearly died because of me !” he snaps, raising his voice at you, which makes you flinch. Because Gojo Satoru never yelled at you before. Not since you first met him in highschool. And that was a long time ago, longer than a decade.

“It wasn’t your fault ! You did nothing wrong !” you scream back, not caring if your neighbors could hear you now. All that mattered was trying to arrange this situation, one that felt like you were doomed. 

“Asking you to pretend to be my girlfriend was a mistake,” he ends up saying, looking dead into your eyes. Your mouth is agape, your brows frowning, and you feel like you can’t breathe anymore. Air knocked out of your lungs.

“I don’t understand your problem here. If you want to stop acting like boyfriend and girlfriend, then there is no problem. End of the plan. But breaking our friendship over that ?!”

“You and I know that it wasn’t friendship anymore, since a long time,” he corrects, stepping closer. And the look in his eyes showed his inner turmoil, the tragedy happening in his head.

“I- Satoru, you are my best friend, I can’t lose you,” you end up whispering, unable to argue against his saying because you knew he was right. You try to touch him, but his infinity is on. His infinity is damn on. You can’t touch him. Can’t touch your clingy best friend, who once said he would rather die than not feel your touch. Can’t touch the person that couldn’t spend a day without being all over you. Wow, your world just shattered. Completely. 

“I can’t love you, y/n,” he whispers painfully.

“What are you saying… ?” you have a hard time pronouncing your words, tears rolling down your eyes pathetically, chest tightening and heart feeling like it stopped beating.

“We can’t continue like this. Because if we do, you’ll just get seriously hurt again. I can’t let it happen another time, not to you,” he shakes his head murmuring this.

“But Satoru, this was none of your fault !” you exclaim in an attempt to make him understand that whatever he was saying was just nonsense, a poor mistake.

“It was. If we continue what we have, you’ll hate me,” he steps back, and you can’t even stop him, as the invisible walls around him stop you from grabbing his hand. 

“Don’t say that, you know I would never- Satoru. Please, listen to me,” you beg, tears falling on the floor. 

“I don’t know how to properly love, y/n. I’ll just curse you. I already did with Suguru,” he whispers, putting his hand over his face, trying to hide how broken he is from doing this, from seeing you like this.‘This is my personal theory, but there’s no curse more twisted than love.’ That was the words he once said to Yuta, his student, around two years ago. He still firmly believed in them.

“No, don’t leave me,” you try to say in between choked sobs, your voice cracking in an attempt to sound less pathetic. It was a fail. 

“I’m sorry, it’s better like that,” he says before turning his back to you.

“You’re not sorry…” you fall on your knees, gripping your pants, looking at him leaving and closing the door behind him without one last glance.

“You’re not fucking sorry !” you scream one last time, in a desperate attempt to make him react, to make him come back. But he doesn’t.

Gojo Satoru was your best friend, supposed boyfriend. Not anymore. 

Almost fifteen years at his side thrown at the trash for a supposed “it’s better for you”.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

Weeks passed, months even. You and Satoru didn’t talk to each other again. You at first desperately tried to, but he ignored your texts, your calls, and even went on long missions abroad. The only thing you had left of him was his belongings at your place, which he never came to take back. You thought about burning them down, but you just couldn’t.

You tried to forget about him, but forgetting such a long friendship was impossible. It was like breaking your soul and throwing it in the void. You couldn’t, even if it felt like it. And it was hard to forget as well, when all you could hear was endless rumors going about arranged marriages with Gojo Satoru. But no one of them ended up being true. Against your will, you felt relieved. It meant the higher ups kept failing their attempts of trying to force him to fulfill his supposed duties.

But everything went quickly once bad things started to happen. Curses attacked the campus, breaking Tengen's barrier. Apparently there was a traitor in the school, the Tokyo one. Gojo and you became incredibly busy, that you barely had even time to rest and think about what happened in between you and him. 

Chaos came to life the day of halloween. Shibuya became hell on earth, and Gojo got sealed. He got damn sealed, for god’s know how long. Maybe forever, maybe until you die and everyone else dies.

Your world once more shattered, as well as the rest of Japan. Because Geto Suguru was back, even if apparently it wasn’t really him. 

Nanami died. Nobara was in between life and death, and many other sorcerers and innocent life died as well. But, you had an ultimate new goal, no matter how shattered you were after this war in between sorcerers and curses started. No matter what happened in between you and him, no matter how your relationship ended, you had to unseal him. You still firmly believed that he was the love of your life. And even if he wasn’t, he needed to get out of this damn cursed box.

The plan was on. And you weren’t alone in wanting this. Many were ready to sacrifice their life for the sake of unselling Gojo Satoru. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

When Satoru got unsealed, the first thing he hoped to see when getting out of it was Suguru and you waiting for him. But none of that. Instead, he was surrounded by chaos all around him. Kenjaku, this impostor, greeted him, and then Sukuna, possessing his dear little boy Megumi appeared. It was hell on earth, and you weren’t there.

Were you dead ? What happened during his absence while he was sealed ? He couldn’t fathom that you were gone, killed. Did his decision of getting away from you for safety went to waste once he got sealed ? 

Once things got calmer, preparing for the upcoming fight in December with Sukuna, Satoru heard about you. You were alive, and apparently you actively participated in the plan of unsealing him. He was relieved, you were alive, maybe not safe and sound, but alive. 

Alive became again his favorite word.

Even if not everyone was alive anymore. 

One thing was sure, he wanted to see you again. Because he knew that once his battle with Sukuna would arrive, he maybe would never be able to have you in his arms again, to hear your voice again, to laugh with you again. To damnation his decision of staying away from you. He just couldn’t anymore.

But first thing first, he needed to get rid of some pesky rats before going to find you, wherever you were.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

You were in an abandoned hotel, taking place here after what happened in Shibuya. After all, everything in Tokyo was abandoned with the war. Everyone got evacuated, or killed. Numerous places were left unsupervised, you took the chance to stay there, as the area around your original apartment was unsafe right now. Since Gojo got unsealed, which means three days ago, you barely went back to the campus, knowing he would be there training for his upcoming battle with Sukuna. You only went around it to help the remaining students, but nothing much. You were scared to see him again. Terrified. Even if the only thing you wanted was to take him in your arms, relieved that he was back, and not in this damned box. But before the Shibuya incident he stated that you and him should never see each other again. You didn’t dare to break that promise.

As you step out of the shower of the hotel room, changed into pajamas and sighing tiredly, someone knocks at your door. You freeze. Nobody knew where you were exactly, nor the building nor the number of the room. So who was that ? A curse ? Kenjaku ? Your blood runs cold and ready to strike, you open the door, preparing yourself to attack.

That maybe was worse than what you imagined.

“Satoru… ?” you whisper, not believing your eyes.

Here he was, breathing heavily, face and clothes covered in red blood, eyes boring into yours, trying to eat your soul.

“I killed the higher ups. All of them,” he simply says. His first words to you, after months of avoiding you, getting sealed and then getting unsealed, were that. 

You open wider your eyes, shock written all over your face, mouth agape. He did it. He killed them. You actually were happy that the jujutsu world finally got rid of these corrupted people. But that meant he had to put more sins over his shoulders, more duties to carry as The Strongest. Something you knew he promised to not do. Something he promised Suguru back in highschool.

“Yuta told me to stop bearing the burden of being a monster alone anymore. But there’s nothing that can be done about that. Back then I was left in the dust. I had to catch up,” he starts to explain, looking at you, and wiping some blood from his pearly white skin. You knew he was talking about Suguru when he deflected years ago.

“I had to do it too, because they were the main reason why I couldn’t love you freely,” he finishes, staring at you. You shiver head to toe, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I missed you, y/n. More than anything. I’m sorry for everything,” he continues, stepping closer to you, but you can’t seem to talk. He was sorry, damned sorry. You try to hold back a nervous chuckle.

“I heard you helped the students to unseal me. Thank you,” he adds, trying to make you talk, and truthfully wanting to thank you for what you did. You stiffen.

“I did,” you finally pronounce. Silence, seconds pass, where the both of you stare at each other. The hands of Satoru twitched, like he was holding himself back. He takes a deep breath.

“I want to take you in my arms and hug you until I can’t breathe. But I don’t want to stain you with their filthy blood,” he whispers, stepping closer, yet still not getting too close. His heart was aching for this, and you bite the inside of your mouth looking at him.

Without uttering a word, you approach him. His infinity directly turns off, allowing you to touch him. You unzip his stained jacket, revealing underneath a clean shirt. Without waiting, you take him in your arms. Satoru feels like he can breathe again, wrapping his hands firmly around your body and finally having you close to his heart.

God, he missed this, so so so much. He can’t believe he managed to survive this long without your touch, without your voice, without your jokes, without you. The only thing that kept him sane was staring at his home screen, or the folder of photos and videos he had of you and him.

It’s suffocating, his hug. Crushing you in his embrace, never wanting to let you go. He stopped himself from burying his face in your neck. If he did, he would put the blood on his cheeks everywhere. He didn’t think about cleaning himself up once he finished exterminating the higher ups. He just wanted to go see you immediately.

“I don’t want to stop, but please, let me go wash my face. I truly don’t want to put anything on you,” he whispers, slowly stepping back against his will.

“What if after this I don’t want to take you back in my arms ?” Lies. You were aching for more. You just wanted to somewhat get back at him. It was mean, but you thought he deserved it.

“Y/n..” he says desperately. You look away.

“Go wash your face before I make you leave,” you turn your back to him. Lies, again.

“Yes ma’am,” he says, trying to lighten the mood. Typical behavior of his, even if it wasn’t the right moment for jokes.

You hear him going towards the bathroom, turning on the water of the sink and washing his face. You look at the window, staying in front of it, letting your gaze linger on the destroyed streets of Tokyo.

When will peace be back ? Surely only once Gojo would fight with Sukuna. But, will he come back alive from this ? Your heart throbs at this idea. Even if the past few months were chaotic, your relationship destroyed, Satoru was still the man you had loved for almost fifteen years. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

You then see him in the mirror reflection, standing behind you. You slowly turn around to face him, and the look in his eyes makes you weak. Longing, yearning, loving, desperate.

“I said I couldn’t love you, it was a lie. I love you, y/n. More than myself,” he admits, stepping closer, slowly, scared to make you back down and go away.  Your eyes shine as he says the three words you longed to hear, dreamed about day and night, even after he left you.

“I said I didn’t know how to love. That was right. But I just understood that I didn’t need to know how to love for loving you. Because it just became natural, since it’s as easy as breathing. I love you, y/n,” he continues, carefully taking your hand in his, scared that you wouldn’t accept his touch. But you did. And he was glad, because here he was peeling all the layers around his soul, destroying the walls around him, and putting his heart on a silvered plate just for you. Something he never did before, to anyone.

“I love you, y/n,” he repeats for the third time, like a pleading, bringing you closer and kissing softly your hand. You look into his eyes, that had tears in them. Gojo Satoru was crying. In front of you. Vulnerable like an abandoned dog on the road.

“I don’t care if you don’t love me anymore, if you resent me, if you hate me. But please, just let me love you before it’s too late,” he begs, falling on his knees and hugging your waist, his head buried in your stomach. You look down at him, and your hand softly cradles his cheek. He raises his head, his eyes red from the tears, lashes wet, like pearls decorating his irises.

“Earning my forgiveness shouldn’t be an easy task. But I can’t deny how much I missed you, hoping for you to come back. And I can’t deny how scared I was when you got sealed. But now, you soon will have to go fight against Sukuna, and just the mere thought of you never coming back- I.. I can’t just not make the most of our possible last weeks together. I love you, Satoru. So much that it’s dangerous, because I could surely forgive anything you do, as long as you’ll come back to me,” you end up answering, voice shaking from the inner turmoil you had. 

Life is brought back to his eyes, and before you can even react, he is on you, kissing you senseless. He is back on his feet, hands cradling your face, lips crashed against yours and molding together. Air enters your lungs like a salvation. Your soul just got healed back by the loving touch of his lips. You gasp, before wrapping your arms around his broader shoulder, and you realize that since the last time you saw him, he gained muscles. His body has changed. What else changed about him ?

As if he would die without your lips against his, he continues to kiss you like it was the last time. You fall on the bed behind you, and he gets on top of you, tilting his head to the side to deepen the kiss. His tongue swirls against yours, his left hand softly and gently caressing your stomach under your pajama shirt. You shiver at his touching, realizing how much you craved to feel his touch one more time.

You longed for this, and now you were having it. It was like a dream coming true inside this nightmare all around the two of you. But only this moment mattered right now, nothing else did. His burning fingers go higher, under your breast, and his knee slides in between your thighs to separate them, inching towards your core.

“I need you so bad, y/n,” he ends up saying, panting, his lips finding your neck and trailing burning wet kisses all over your sensitive skin.

“Me too- I can’t wait anymore,” you whisper in between a restrained moan as his knee presses against your clothed heat. You shudder, and his pupils blow when he hears you reacting to his touch like that. 

“Don’t say that to me or I will not be able to contain myself,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against your breast, lightly, like a feather. You bite your lower lip, and feel him sucking your neck, leaving a mark, before going down your collarbones.

“Then don’t. Don’t hold back, please,” you practically plead, he lifts his head to look at you in the eyes.

“Are you sure ?”

“More than anything,” you whisper against his lips when he kisses you again, his hand cupping your breast underneath your shirt, before unbuttoning it with his other. You let out a moan of pleasure, and he drinks it up happily, feeling like his heart would burst at finally being able to touch you like this. He dreamed of it, almost every night. It was sinful.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he mutters, opening the shirt to reveal your naked torso, half lidded eyes staring at beauty itself. His breath is caught in his throat, and his growing desire becomes unstoppable.

“Don’t say that,” you answer, caressing his cheek tenderly.

“I mean it. If I had to die, I wish it would be in your arms, against your lips. For me, that is Heaven,” he ends up confessing, looking deep into your soul.

And he meant every word of that.

Now, Satoru couldn’t wait to finally become one with you. After more than a decade of yearning for this, he would make love to you like he always dreamed of. He didn’t care about the consequences of crossing that line anymore. If he had to be doomed for loving you, then so be it. He’ll gladly accept it as long as he’ll have you. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ 

Part 4 (final part) is out !

I bet you guys didn't expect this fic to suddenly turn so angsty (oops, my bad), but hey, I actually love to write Gojo's angst. Nah, don't worry, next part includes the smut, and I know a lot of you are waiting for it. It’s like an apology. Anyways, See you !💋

Tag list : @just-another-idk

[mirisss]

Chapter 11

Stray Kids OT8 x hybrid! afab! reader

Warnings: some more spicy thoughts though nothing really explicit, descriptions of someone being shirtless, nightmares, anxiety, like on or two mentions of someone being tortured (not described how), lack of sleep, anxiety/panic attack, someone collapsing/falling unconcious, 

Wordcount ≈ 3.1k

Sorry for the long wait, life has been crazy during the last few months for me but here is the long-awaited eleventh chapter! I hope you all enjoy it! 

Please reblog! 

taglist, some tags aren't working and I don't know why 😭:

@ayoo-bangtan, @lose-lose07, @kingcarrot-thecarrotking, @starjane312, @reighlee-greaves, @hi-39024, @queenmea604, @septicrebel, @justayoungandwisefangirl, @imasimplol, @k-p0p-4ever, @detectivedoodle, @hehe-24-hehe, @jinnie-ret, @0325tiny, @borahae-reads, @shycreationdreamland, @kiaralynn3838, @blondechannie, @theydy-madamonsieur, @boi-bi-ahaha, @riri321, @3rachasninja, @kkamismom12, @yuki-sama6, @fun-fanfics, @turtledove824,

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 12

Changbin fell back asleep almost instantly, (Y/n) stayed awake for a couple of minutes but eventually, thanks to the warmth and the safety of his strong embrace, the dream world welcomed her as she fell into a deep slumber.

Third person POV

Once morning came, (Y/n) jolted from the bed as Changbin’s alarm set off, the bunny almost fell off the bed however Changbin’s strong arms held her up even in his tired state. “Morning, (Y/n),” (Y/n) looked up at the rapper, she had almost forgotten that she had fallen asleep with him in his bed, the hybrid thought she would feel ashamed at this but she didn’t. No, she actually felt happy and she yearned to fall asleep like this again.  

“Good morning,” “Did you sleep well?” (Y/n) hesitated for a second before she answered, “Very well,” Changbin smiled so widely that his cheeks began hurting, “I’m glad to hear that, now, how about some breakfast? We need to leave for the company soon,” “Can I have a smoothie? Like the one I got a while ago?” “Yeah, I’ll fix that for you, but you’re eating something more than just that, Minho-hyung won’t be happy otherwise,” “Maybe a sandwich as well then,” “That’s better, go get dressed, it’s a bit rainy today so dress a bit warmer,” 

(Y/n) got up from the bed and went over to Jeongin’s room only to find it empty so she headed over to Felix’s room instead but he too was nowhere to be found. Thanks to her hybrid senses she could hear Seungmin moving around in his room, so (Y/n) went to his door and gave it a tiny knock. “Come in,” Seungmin said from inside, (Y/n) carefully opened the door and peeked inside. “Hey, (Y/n)!” “Hey, um, I can’t find Jeongin or Felix, they usually help me with my outfits,” Seungmin looked a bit shocked, but then he nodded and smiled. “Innie had to leave earlier for a personal schedule so he left about 2-3 hours ago, he’ll meet us at the company after lunch, Felix is probably helping Minho-hyung with the breakfast. You have most of your clothes in Jeongin’s room right?” “Oh, he must be tired if he left that early, but, um, yeah, mostly with Innie and some in Felix’s room and a few things in Hyunjin’s,” 

Seungmin grabbed a hoodie from his wardrobe before he signaled to (Y/n) that they were leaving his room. They walked down to Jeongin’s room and went inside, over to the new wardrobe they had put up to keep (Y/n)’s clothes in. “Alright, let’s see, how about a hoodie and jeans? Or would you rather have yoga pants for the most comfortable outfit?” (Y/n) looked at Seungmin’s outfit, and then out the window, before returning her gaze to the wardrobe. She thought back to previous days at the company building, most people wore expensive and impressive-looking outfits, while she did want the yoga pants because they were comfortable, she didn’t want to make SKZ look bad because she didn’t dress up. “Wouldn’t jeans or something like it be the most presentable option?” 

Seungmin was a bit confused but then noticed how the bunny looked at his outfit and her wardrobe. “I mean, sure, if you were coming with us to schedules where you must appear on screen, then yes a more dressy outfit would be better but for a day like this, a hoodie and yoga pants, are perfectly fine to wear,” “But you look so much more dressed up than I would,” (Y/n) was pouting, which Seungmin thought was adorable. “I’m gonna stay behind after practice and go live for a little bit, hence, my outfit,” Seungmin thought that would be enough but then he thought about what the others would be wearing, “the others will be dressed more comfortably, well, I think so, we’re all so used to dancing in all different kinds of outfits so we sometimes wear jeans and stuff like that to practice as well,” (Y/n) admired how hard Seungmin tried to comfort her whilst also staying truthful to the fact that anyone of them could show up in a performance grade outfit. 

(Y/n) was thinking hard about this, should she choose her own comfort and risk making SKZ look bad or should she choose the presentable outfit and be uncomfortable all day? Some bad memories from the past began surfacing in her mind, choosing herself never ended well. But it’s different now, she tried to remind herself. Her family is not like the monsters from her past. (Y/n) took a deep breath, “I’ll take the yoga pants,” She was nervous to actually say it out loud, but once she had, it felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Seungmin smiled at her, “Then yoga pants it is!” Seungmin took a pair of black yoga pants out of the wardrobe and a light blue hoodie, along with a pair of socks. “Here ya go! Get changed and then come to the kitchen, breakfast should be about done,” Just before Seungmin turned to leave the room, he bent down and kissed (Y/n) on the crown of her head, and then he walked toward the kitchen. (Y/n) stood in shock for a second, her whole face was as red as a tomato. 

(Y/n) couldn’t understand the way she was feeling, kissing Hyunjin and Jeongin made her feel a little embarrassed and tingly but this, this kiss made her feel so weak in the knees from warmth that she thought she might pass out. After a minute, she managed to shake of the shock and she got changed before she walked out of the room and headed to the kitchen. 

The kitchen was noisy, (Y/n) could barely make out the 30 different sounds coming from behind the kitchen door with her enhanced hearing. She gently pushed the door open and walked inside, Minho and Changbin were rushing around making sandwiches, smoothies, and whatnot for everyone. Felix was sitting at the table, eating a sandwich in big bites, (Y/n) noticed his lack of a shirt and that he was wearing pyjama pants so he was probably eating quickly to then change into his work clothes. The hybrid blushed as she saw his sculpted, muscular back, she couldn’t even imagine how his torso would look. Suddenly, she was very grateful to the fact that he wasn’t facing her. 

Hyunjin sat in front of Felix, drinking what looked, and smelled, like coffee, (Y/n) scrunched her nose at the scent, it wasn’t her favorite. Jisung sat beside Felix, resting his head on the other's shoulder. He must be tired. (Y/n) thought. Bang Chan sat across from Jisung, drinking a smoothie, it looked delicious, making (Y/n)’s mouth water. Seungmin stood in a corner, looking down at the coffee maker, waiting for it to finish filling his cup. (Y/n) searched for Jeongin, but then she reminded herself that he wasn’t home, it felt weird, it felt a bit empty not seeing them all together. 

Minho looked up from what he was doing and noticed (Y/n) standing by the door. “Good morning bunny, come on, grab some breakfast, we don’t have long until we must leave,” (Y/n) walked over and grabbed a sandwich from Minho before she turned and looked at Changbin, she smiled expectantly at him, her eyes so wide and bright one could only describe them as puppy-like. Binnie chuckled at the realization, their bunny hybrid giving him puppy eyes. “Here is your smoothie, as promised,” “Thank you,” (Y/n) said as she accepted the glass from Changbin. 

The bunny walked over to the table and sat down beside Jisung, doing her best not to steal any glances at Felix’s bare upper body. All the boys at the table mumbled somewhat of a “good morning”, some had their mouths filled with food or drinks, and some were just really tired. “Hi,” (Y/n) answered back before she took a big gulp of the smoothie Binnie had made for her. It was full of delicious fruits, she felt mango and strawberries the most, and maybe a hint of peaches? “Mmmm,” “Was it as good as the first one you got?” Changbin asked before he emptied out his own glass that was filled with a smoothie. “Well, the first one will always be the best because it was the first one I ever got, but this one is really tasty too!” 

All seven boys who were in the room with the hybrid felt their hearts swoon at the happy smile that rested so naturally on the bunny’s lips and the spark in her eyes as she enjoyed her second ever smoothie. To think that there were people out there who had harmed such a beautiful and kind soul. 

“If you ever want another smoothie, just ask for one, next time, I might be able to teach you how to make one even, so that you can do it for yourself if we can’t help you,” “Thank you,” Minho walked over and looked down at the table, noticing that (Y/n) hadn’t taken a single bite out of her sandwich yet and neither had Jisung who was as good as asleep on Felix’s shoulder. Lee Know lightly hit Han on the head to wake him up and then he gently put his hand on top of (Y/n)’s head, making the bunny look up at him. “Eat your sandwiches, you two, and Ji, no sleeping at the table, also-” Minho turned to Felix, “you, go get dressed,” Felix gulped down the last of his breakfast before he stood up and walked out of the kitchen. 

(Y/n) couldn’t help her wandering eyes as she watched the dancer stand up, the way his muscles flexed and stretched, she felt tingly all over and she suddenly felt very thirsty but she thought that was because of the sandwich she was eating and not because of Felix. 

Both Hyunjin and Chan noticed the way that (Y/n)’s turned red, the sudden big gulp, the wandering eyes. No one can deny that Felix has a good body, and apparently, their little bunny finally noticed it too. Hyunjin felt his lips tingle a little as he remembered how soft the bunny’s lips were, and how he wished he could kiss her again, for real this time. Chan looked down to (Y/n)’s lips, seeing her tongue run over them to catch a stray crum from the bread, he didn’t want to rush her but damn did he want to feel her lips against his, would they feel as soft as they seem? Would she taste as sweet as she looked? He knew it might take a few days, weeks, months or even years before she would be comfortable to do things with all of them, maybe she wouldn’t ever want to be with all of them in that way, and that’s okay. However, he couldn’t deny the yearning that he felt deep inside for her. Her soul was so beautiful, so pretty, so kind and warm, not to talk about her looks, Chan sometimes forgets that she isn’t even human because she looks more like a goddess in his eyes. 

Jisung didn’t notice what everyone else saw, he was way too tired to even keep his eyes open. That night he had dreamt nightmare of (Y/n)’s past. He hadn’t even been there, experienced what she had gone through, but whenever he had closed his eyes, all he saw was dark shadows chasing (Y/n), they held weapons in their hands, eventually, she couldn’t run any longer, and the torture began, Jisung would jolt awake as he heard her scream. After the fifth or sixth time it happened, he gave up on sleeping. He wished he could have checked in on (Y/n), to see if she was sleeping, but he didn’t dare disturbe her or Changbin if they were asleep so he waited and waited until morning came to see if (Y/n) was alive and well. Deep inside he knew she was okay with them, but the anxiety from the nightmares clouded his mind with doubt of her safety. 

After a few bites of his sandwich, Jisung’s head once again felt heavy with exhaustion, he couldn’t hold it up anymore and eventually, he let it fall and it landed on (Y/n)’s shoulder. He fell asleep almost instantly as he inhaled her sweet scent, seeing her awake and smiling, hearing her talk and be so lively, so different from when they just met, he felt relieved, part of his anxiety slowly washed away as he rested on her shoulder. 

(Y/n) was surprised when Jisung’s head landed on her shoulder, but she welcomed the closeness, until she felt unease rush through her veins. His breathes were shallow, stressed, his body felt like it was burning up, her sensitive nose picking up something that smelled awful, she couldn’t even describe it, all she knew was that the scent came from Jisung, from inside him. (Y/n) gasped, catching the attention of everyone in the room. “What’s wrong, (Y/n)?” Seungmin asked as he walked over. “Jisung,” (Y/n) couldn’t form a coherent sentence, she was stressing, anxiety filling her own body. She didn’t understand what was wrong with Han, what if it’s something serious? 

Chan looked between (Y/n) and Jisung, only now noticing how exhausted and stressed Jisung looked, he looked sick. “What’s wrong with him? Can you feel something?” Chan asked. “I… I don’t…. know… um, scent, warm,” “Shhh, it’s okay, calm down, everything will be okay,” Minho immediately walked over to (Y/n) and enveloped her into his arms as Seungmin gently moved Jisung’s head away from the hybrid. “He’s burning up, hyung,” “This seems like a reaction to an anxiety attack, remember, he used to get like this often back when we just debuted?” Chan said as he too walked over to the younger rapper. Jisung was unconscious yet he seemed like he was in the midst of a panic attack, his breathing hurried, sweat forming on his forehead, body shaking and feverish. (Y/n) was shaking, her eyes couldn’t focus on anything, her temperature rising from the panic, tears silently falling down her cheeks. 

“Minho, and Jinnie, can you two take care of (Y/n) whilst Seungmin and Changbin take Jisung back to his room? I’ll go call the company and say that we might not come in today because of this, I’ll ask Felix to message Jeongin so that he knows what’s going on,” Everyone just nodded before getting to work. 

(Y/n) was shaking in Lee Know’s arms, so worried for Jisung that she internalized his own sickness onto herself. “This is similar to how she was when I found her, shaking, scared, confused,” Minho said as Hyunjin came over and gently scratched (Y/n)’s head, right by her long and soft bunny ears. Something she once mentioned calmed her down. “Yeah, it’s kind of how she got in the elevator too,” Hyunjin stopped his sentence to wipe away some of the tears from (Y/n)’s face, “it must be stressful to see someone in her newfound family collapse like this,” “(Y/n)? Should we at least move to the living room? So that you can sit down comfortably on the couch?” 

(Y/n) could barely hear what the two dancers were saying, it sounded like she was under water and they were above the surface talking. All she could do was just grip onto Minho’s shoulders just a little harder and hope that was enough of an answer to whatever question he had asked her. Minho tried to stand up as gently as he could with (Y/n) clutching on to him, Hyunjin helped with stabilizing the bunny and holding the door open for his hyung. They sat down on the couch, (Y/n) half in Minho’s lap and half on the couch, Hyunjin leaned over so that the hybrid was sandwiched between them and he once again began gently scratching her head. 

This had been one shaky morning, it started out so good but it quickly turned bad. Maybe a free day would do them all so good. The company wasn’t happy with them but they approved the sudden day off once Chan promised to work on some songs at home. Once Felix managed to reach I.N, the maknae hurriedly finished his personal schedule so that he could rush home as fast as he could. They all wanted to be there to comfort their family. When Jeongin got home, he found Minho, Hyunjin, and (Y/n) asleep on the couch with some low music playing in the background, Chan, Felix, and Changbin were sitting on the floor of Jisung’s room, half asleep as they watched over their brother, and finally, Seungmin was in the kitchen, cleaning up from the breakfast and prepping to make tea for everyone once they woke up again. Jeongin joined Seungmin in the kitchen, helping with the final pieces of the clean up, before he went to the living room, joining the hug-pile on the couch and letting himself fall asleep as well. Perhaps, the afternoon, will be kinder on all of them. 

And that was this chapter, I hope everyone enjoys it, what do you think will happen next? Will Chan get his moment to kiss our dear (Y/n)? Or will someone else perhaps steal her next kiss before him? Will Jisung be okay? I guess we will see, next time! 

[you-call-it-a-dude]

Call It What You Want Pt.3

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

Summary: You get together with your friends to catch up on life and they're skeptical about what you're doing with Regina. A house party at Shane Oman's house gives Regina the chance to prove them wrong

Pairings: Regina George x Gender Neutral/Fem Reader

Warnings: internalized homophobia, underage drinking, drug use (there's some coke involved, but nothing too crazy I promise)

Notes: Hi! Chapter 3 and I'm just having so much fun with these. Listen, I know there's another party, but it's college. I'm keeping it realistic lol but also, next chapter will be a small time jump and they'll get more well established. Just trying to have some fun and build it up and see how things are shifting I guess?? Anyway, I really hope you like this chapter as well and thank you all for taking the time to read. Also, slight mention of drug use, but just a little dabble. But TW just in case. But I kept it not super crazy and kinda light for that reason

///

You were at your desk with your headphones on, doing your best attempt to do the readings for one of your classes that was due tomorrow. You always had a tendency to wait until the last minute for things, citing the excuse that working under pressure helps you think better. College may be testing the limits of that theory, but so far you haven't failed anything horrendously. It's only been a month since classes started though so there's still time.

Two arms wrapped around you from behind, caressing your chest and collarbone. You shot forward in your seat, ripping your headphones off your head and whipping your chair around to confront your roommate for majorly crossing a fucking boundary when you were met with a laughing Regina instead.

"Chill out, it's just me. Your roommate let me in before they left."

You stared up at her waiting for your heart to calm down. Though, staring at her wasn't doing you much good cause now it was just beating faster in a whole different way.

She was dressed up, her oversized designer purse that she uses for her backpack was sitting by your doorway so you know she must have stopped here right after class.

Something about that makes you feel all warm and giddy inside.

You also try not to think about the fact that you haven't seen her in like almost two weeks though.

"What brings you by?" You leaned forward, resting your forehead against her stomach and closing your eyes when her hands find their way to your scalp, massaging softly.

"I wanted to see you. I've just been busy with classes and soccer stuff lately." She gave your hair a tug so you would tilt your head back and look at her.

"When's your first game?" You questioned, your hands finding the backs of her thighs because that's what was within your reach and you almost felt like if you weren't touching her right now, you would implode.

"We've already had like three games."

"Oh." You said, your eyebrows furrowed. The hands on the back of her thighs faltered slightly and you didn't realize how much you wanted to be present at one of her games until you basically found out you were probably never going to be invited.

"Why the face?" She frowned, rubbing her thumb between your eyebrows to essentially try to get you to fix your face.

"Can I come see you play?"

"Uh," her voice was a touch higher than normal and you knew whatever was about to fly out of her mouth was either going to be a lie or something you probably didn't want to hear.

"Don't worry about it." You shook your head and gave her a tight lipped smile, leaning back in your chair.

"Stop, don't be like that." She straddled your lap and you tightened your grip on the back of her thighs because the last thing you needed was for her to fall. "I just can't have any distractions while I'm there."

"No, yeah. That makes sense." You agreed for the sake of moving past this conversation, but you also weren't really looking at her either. She gripped your face with both her hands, forcing you to look at her.

"Stop, Y/N." Her tone sounded less playful and you knew you just needed to let it the fuck go. You nodded and she squeezed your cheeks, pushing your lips out and planting a kiss on your lips. You quickly caught her lips for a second kiss before she could pull away and you could feel her smile against your lips.

She slid her hands down and cupped your neck, deepening the kiss. You could feel her rubbing her thumbs along your jawline and having Regina George sitting on your lap kissing you has to be what heaven feels like.

"I have to finish my homework." You mumbled against hers lips, pulling her closer to you by the backs of her thighs. She responds by grinding down into you, shaking her head no. You gasped when her hips moved against you again and she wasted no time slipping her tongue into your mouth.

"Fuck your homework." She said before bringing you in for another heated kiss.

It was tempting. God, it was so fucking tempting. The way she was grinding against you was making your brain short circuit so you know trying to get anything done would be impossible.

"Stay here with me and hangout." You pulled away from the kiss to look at her, pushing some stray hairs from her face. "Ren will be gone for a while. It'll just be us. I can order pizza, too."

"Ugh, I guess I could do some homework, too." She said begrudgingly.

"You probably should if you want to keep playing soccer."

"You probably should if you want to keep playing soccer." She mocked, rolling her eyes at you.

But the fact that she had her arms draped over your shoulder and had been twirling the hairs at the back of your neck around her finger really made you feel like she was not as upset about spending time with you as she was trying to let on.

"What kind of pizza do you want, beautiful?" You sneak in one more quick kiss because you just couldn't help it.

"Would you judge me if I just said cheese?"

"Never."

You both just stared at each other in silence for a few moments. One of Regina's hands moved to cup your cheek, her thumb swiping against your cheekbone. She leaned in and pressed a soft, slow kiss against your lips.

"I'm gonna change and get everything I need from my room. I'll be back." She gave you one more quick kiss before getting off your lap and you felt almost desperate the way you tried to keep your hands on her until she walked out of reach. So desperate that even having your fingertips on her felt better than nothing.

She took her keys from her bag and left it sitting against your wall. There was no question about whether or not she was coming back. When she closed the door behind her you hopped out of your desk chair and to to work on straightening up your room.

You fixed your bed, moved some clothes out of the way that were in the way. You had this bean-bag lounge chair thing that your mom got you and you pulled it out from the little space between the wall and your dresser where you shoved it because it took up way too much room to keep out daily.

You plopped onto the chair and called to order a large cheese pizza, opting to order from a nicer place instead of Dominos since Regina would be joining you. You got a soda for yourself and a sparkling water for Regina and added two cannolis for dessert.

Regina knocked on your door about twenty minutes later. She was dressed in comfy sweats and a crew neck, carrying a few books and her laptop and charger.

You smiled and stepped aside to let her in.

"Sooo, I have a paper to write that's due tonight that I forgot about. Where can I plug this in?"

"You can take my desk. Let me see." You looked at her charger and nodded. "We have the same one, just use mine and plug your computer in. I only have to do some reading and annotating tonight." You carefully took her charger from her and set it on her bag.

She set all her items on your desk and started to carefully move your stuff to the side, making sure to bookmark the page you were on and to put your laptop to sleep properly before closing it.

You grabbed everything she set aside and set in on your bed, grabbing on the book you needed, your pen, and a highlighter. You took everything to the beanbag chair that was situated slightly behind your desk.

"You're so far away." She commented, turning in your chair to face you with a small pout.

You chuckled and grabbed the back of the chair, dragging it to the small space between your desk and your bed and setting it there. You picked up your book and your pens and plopped down. Regina nodded in approval and turned to her computer.

After twenty minutes of straight reading your eyes needed a break. You closed your book and stretched, looking up at Regina to see her texting. Her computer screen split between an empty google doc and the school portal that actually signed her out for inactivity.

"Have you even started?" Nudging her leg with your foot.

"Hmm?" She hummed, waiting until whatever text she was working on was sent before looking up at you.

"Your paper."

"I will. Relax." She rolled her eyes and made a face at you before turning away. Which actually kind of pissed you off a little.

"Fine. Don't come crawling to me for any fucking help then." You adjusted yourself in the beanbag chair, opening your book again and continuing to read.

You could hear Regina typing every once in a while, but when you would look up you would see her doing online shopping or pretty much anything that wasn't homework. You continued to read for almost another thirty minutes until you got a call from the pizza delivery person that they were at the front desk of your dorm.

"Did you pay? Let me pay for it." She stood up, helping you off the beanbag first before attempting to go to her bag.

You pulled her back by her wrist and pulled her into you, wrapping your other arm around her waist.

"I've got it. Don't worry about." You kissed her quickly and patted her lower back before releasing her. "Get the tv remote off Ren's desk and pick something for us to watch while we eat. I'll be right back, babe."

You grabbed your keys and slipped on your shoes so you could head downstairs.

You returned a few minutes later with the box of pizza and the bag with your drinks and dessert.

Regina had cleared off space on multiple surfaces to make room for the food and for you both to eat. She was waiting for you patiently on your bed, laying comfortably against your pillows while scrolling through the streaming app of her choice.

You set the pizza down and got everything situated. Pulling out paper plates and napkins then making plates for the both you. Regina held both your plates while you pulled out the drinks and opened them.

"You got me a drink!" She said excitedly when she saw you pop open her sparking water.

"Yeah, baby!" You set the drinks on the edge of your desk and slid in to bed next to her, taking the outside once again.

You settled on watching Schitts Creek while you ate, having to talk her out of a Real Housewives show and reminding her that she was the one we with a paper due tonight.

You watched one episode while you ate and you watched a second one to 'let your food digest', both of you settling further into your bed. Regina had her head on your chest, rubbing the part of your arm you had wrapped around her that she could reach.

Your biggest mistake was letting her convince you to put on more episode for good measure. Actually, no. Letting her pull a blanket over the both of you was the mistake.

She was out within the first five minutes of the third episode, though your fingertips rubbing her scalp weren't really helping her stay awake.

You gave her until 8:30 before turning off the show and waking her up gently. You kissed the top of her head, calling her name after every kiss until her eyes fluttered open then back closed. She buried herself deeper into your embrace.

You found her cheek and kissed it repeatedly and obnoxiously until she got annoyed enough to wake up. It was a short nap, but you can tell it was a good one just based off the redness in her face from both how she was laying and how warm and comfortable she was.

You pushed hair from her face and handed her her drink, giving her just a few minutes to fully wake up on her own without being rushed.

When Regina was fully awake, you both made your way back to your designated homework spots. You sat more comfortably this time, your legs stretched out with your feet resting on Regina's lap. Something she had actually encouraged you to do which surprised you a little.

You had no complaints about it though. Since her deadline was creeping up on her she was actually doing her work, but whenever she would pause to read something or think about what she wanted to type out next, her hands would find their way to her lap and trace patterns on your shins and ankles to help her think.

She got her paper submitted about five minutes before the deadline. Did she almost have a few mental breakdowns? Yes. Was she cursing out her professor? Also yes. But as soon as it was submitted you could tell she was visibly relieved she got it done.

"When can I see you again?" You asked her, handing her her bag as well as a small ziplock of pizza.

"Tomorrow?"

"I can't tomorrow." You shook your head. "I'm gonna be seeing Ava and Isaac tomorrow."

"Who?" She raised her eyebrow.

"My friends? From North Shore? We are gonna meet up after classes tomorrow."

"Oh."

"What? What's wrong?" You asked, immediately detecting a shift in her mood.

"You're not gonna say anything, right?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You were obviously hurt that she didn't want anyone knowing, but also like if she wasn't ready she wasn't ready.

"Yeah, of course. Don't worry about it." You gave her a reassuring smile and despite the night you had together, she left without kissing you goodbye.

---

You met Isaac and Ava at a burger place near your campus that they had been wanting to check out. They both went to a different university in the city so it was nice that getting together wasn't impossible because of distance.

It was just impossible because of life.

You all greeted each other excitedly and ordered your food before getting down to the nitty gritty of your catch up.

Isaac had an STI scare and told you he finally got himself put on PrEP after you had been begging him since the school year started. His parents are also filing for divorce since he and his siblings are all 18 and over which he is actually pretty thankful about cause he was sick of them together. You and Ava were shown a multitude of different Grindr profiles of the guys he's been with, offering praises for the good ones and some reality checks for the questionable folks.

Ava hasn't been too involved in the dating scene. She has begun dabbling in some drugs that were a little heftier than what was usually provided at the house parties thrown by her brother. She did tell you that if you ever hear her mention meth or heroin, that y'all had permission to get her ass to rehab. But right now, it wasn't that serious.

You definitely made them share their locations with you indefinitely though.

"So, Y/N, drop the dirty details. What's been going on with you?" Isaac asked, taking a sip of his soda.

"I've been seeing someone. Maybe? Kind of?" You felt yourself blushing just thinking of Regina.

"What do you mean maybe, kind of?" Ava jumped in defensively. It was her and Isaac's turn to play the concerned friend role with you. "Do you have a picture?"

"I do, but she's not out yet."

"What does that matter we don't know he-oh, we fucking know her don't we? From North Shore?" You nodded and Isaac smacked the table. "At your school??" You nodded again and you could see him thinking, going through the list of everyone in your class that he knew of that went to your school. Which, was not a lot. "I can only think of like five people and two of them are boys." He held up three fingers, putting them down as he went through them. "Lupe Campos, Amira Harris, and Regina George." He put his three fingers back up and wiggled them.

You shifted ever so slightly when he said Regina's name and you and Ava made eye contact. She narrowed her eyes at you and you know you've possibly been found out.

"She doesn't want to be out. I'm not-I'm not confirming anything." You managed to stutter out.

"Shane is having a party tomorrow. My parents are out of town. He invited a bunch of high school people cause you know, he def peaked in high school and can't let that shit go. Are you coming?"

The notorious Shane Oman is Ava's twin brother. Two complete different personalities (almost), but unsurprisingly they're both pretty close to each other since they're twins. Apparently he had been struggling with life lately since graduation so this party is apparently his desperate attempt at finding purpose and popularity again.

"Yeah, I'm down. Could be fun." You shrugged.

"I heard he invited Regina and she will also be going."

Okay, well, see that you didn't know.

"Good for her." You nodded, playing with your fries before pushing your plate away.

"She didn't tell you?"

"Why would she?" Isaac interrupted before you could respond. Neither you or Ava spoke, but the eye contact between the two of you was enough for Isaac to finally connect the dots. He gasped before collecting himself. "Seriously? Regina George?" He said her name barely above a whisper, being conscious of the fact that you said she wasn't out yet.

You didn't tell them, technically.

"She's actually really great and just misunderstood."

"You could make the same argument about polar bears or crocodiles." Ava argued, pushing her hair behind her ear. "You don't think that her coming to her exe's house party and not saying anything to you is, I don't know, suspicious?"

"You never fall for the straight girl." Isaac piped in and Ava snapped in agreement.

"She's just figuring herself out." You defended.

"At your expense, babe! Come on! You know better."

"It's so different when it's only us. She's just scared." Ava gave you a look that could only best be described as pity and it didn't make you feel great.

"I get you, you know I do." Isaac reached across the table and grabbed your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. "Just be careful."

"No, yeah. I know. I am."

---

You took the Metra to Evanston early Saturday afternoon, bringing a bag with an outfit or two with you and deciding to stop by and visit your dad, step mom, and little siblings.

They all greeted you excitedly and you spent the afternoon playing with your siblings, two year old Levi and 9-month old Zoe. It gave your dad and step mom some time to themselves and it gave you time with your siblings, something you both appreciated.

You started getting ready to go around 7pm. Levi hung out with you until his bed time and when your dad came him to pick him up off your bed, he gave you the speech about being careful, to call him at anytime if you needed a ride, not to drive drunk or get in the car with anyone that has been drinking or doing drugs. Pretty much just covering all his basic before releasing you into the wild.

Isaac picked you up around 9:30pm and when you got there the house was already packed a vibrating. Definitely not to the capacity it used to be since it's a random weekend in the middle of the semester, but still pretty full nonetheless. Regina's pink jeep was parked in the driveway. She must have had the same idea as you and came to Evanston early to see her family.

The fact that she was parked in the driveway and not on the side street or the front lawn made you want to throw the fuck up.

You did particularly enjoy the fact that, as far as you knew, Regina did not know you were coming. You felt like you had the upper hand. You put extra effort into your outfit and your hair. You didn't expect her to talk to you tonight or even acknowledge you if she saw you tonight. But that didn't mean you couldn't make it difficult for her not to.

You walked into the party and past a bunch of people who have never bat an eyelash at your existence in high school. You pushed past the drunk, high, sweaty party goers with Isaac clutching your jacket and guided him through the crowed to the kitchen.

Regina was in that area, drink in hand, talking to Shane, Gretchen, and Karen. When she saw you it was like she saw a ghost. You could tell she didn't expect to see you there and that it threw her off.

You were at the counter where all the drinks were laid out, debating between a bright blue drink and a bright green one. Both looked equally questionable. You felt a presence beside you and you knew it was Regina because you could smell her perfume.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, filling up her own drink and not making any eye contact with you.

"Ava invited me. Shane's twin sister." You added for clarification.

"Shane's twin?" You turned to her to say something, but she looked at you briefly and could tell her comment annoyed you. "I'm kidding. I know he has a twin. I didn't realize your Ava and his Ava were the same." You just nodded, deciding to take a chance on the bright blue drink and putting your cup under the spigot of the cooler it was in and filling your cup.

"You look really pretty tonight." You told her before taking a sip of your drink. She blushed and pushed some hair behind her ear, topping off her own cup.

"So do you." She smiled and took a sip of her drink as well, still not turning to look in your direction.

Karen and Gretchen waved her over and Karen shouted for her to bring them more shots.

"I'm surprised you're talking with them." You made yourself look busy while she prepared their tequila shots.

"Shit is different when alcohol is involved. I miss them a lot sometimes."

"Need help?" You watched her finagle the three plastic shot glasses and the red solo cup in her grip.

"Got it." She moved past you, knocking into your shoulder and making your drink splash over slightly onto your hand.

How she prevented anything from spilling onto her was a fucking mystery.

You found Ava and Isaac in the garage with a few other people, passing around joints and bongs. You took a seat on one of the chairs Ava saved for you and she handed you a joint before your ass hit the seat.

You vibed in the garage for about two joints until Ava pulled out a small bag of coke. That cleared the room quite fast honestly. Only you, Isaac, and two other people stayed with Ava.

She offered it to everyone and Isaac refused immediately. You hesitated to say no and she smirked, asking you if you were interested. That she would make sure it was a small bump and you would be totally okay.

Sure, you had only been drinking and smoking weed prior.

You were too scared to snort it, Isaac calling you 'so real' for that. Instead you were taught how to rub it on your gums and how to let it sit under your tongue instead.

The first fifteen minutes after were great, although seeing your best friend who was like this innocent band nerd just a few months ago snort a line? That was not anything you would want to see again.

You were fine until Gretchen and Karen came in to the garage Regina-less. Something about that had you start to feel a little bit anxious.

They came in asking Ava some question about where something was and she questioned where her brother was and you were out of that room once you heard he was in his bedroom.

You felt anxious, like your heart was going to fly out of your chest. Also, weirdly enough, you felt like you could totally fight someone and win right now.

You made your way to Shane's room and saw the door closed. You turned the knob and it was locked.

"Fuck." You sighed, pressing your head against the door briefly before pulling away.

You dragged your feet down the hall to Ava's room, opening the door and shutting it quickly when you saw the room was already occupied. You made a mental note that you would hopefully remember to tell her to wash her sheets.

You were kinda feeling sick and you didn't want to go back downstairs so you walked to the very end of the long hallway by the window. It was quiet and secluded and you sat with your back against the wall so you could watch all these assholes at the party.

You weren't sure how long you had been sitting there, maybe ten minutes max. You thought it was starting to wear off, but seeing Regina coming down the hallway arguing with Ava, and Isaac hot on both of their heels, had you thinking you were hallucinating.

You leaned forward and the three of them rushed to you, Regina shoving past Ava to get to you first. You heard an 'ooop' escape from Isaac's mouth and you met his gaze with a smirk. He winked and gave you a nod.

Regina was on the floor, kneeling in front of you with your face cupped between your hands.

"Hey, are you okay? You've been missing for a fucking hour." She titled your head up to look at your eyes in the light.

"I've been up here the whole time."

"Well we asked around trying to find you, but got conflicting information. Turns out, people are fucking stupid." Ava jumped in and Regina whipped her head around to give her what you assume was the most foul look both her and Isaac had ever seen judging by their faces.

Clearly Regina and Ava have not been getting along. You squeezed your thighs together at Regina's protectiveness over you then raised an eyebrow at Isaac. He shook his head and gave you a look that told you you'd talking about it at some point later.

"I'm so sorry, guys. I had no idea. I didn't mean to scare you." You still sound a little dazed and confused, trying to figure out how that hour passed in ten minutes.

"What happened?" She asked softly, her hand under your chin and her eyes searching your face.

You thought it over, trying to remember why you even came up here in the first place. You looked around the area and your eyes bounced to Shane's bedroom door. You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to get your brain working again. Regina didn't come from Shane's bedroom. You have confirmation that she's actually been trying to find you for the last hour.

"I don't remember. It's nothing." Your eyes bounced between her face and Shane's door once more and she knew exactly what your thought process was.

She shook her head no and let her thumb brush over your bottom lip quickly when she was pulling her hands off your face. She stood up and helped you up.

"Do you want me to take you back to your dad's?" Isaac asked as soon as you were on your feet.

"What? No. I'm good. Should we get another drink or something?" The last thing you wanted to do was be more of a vibe killer than you already had been. Especially for Regina.

"Yeah! That's what I'm talking about, baby!" Ava exclaimed and gave you a high five. "Want some more?" Ava teased, giving you a playful nudge and you both laughed. She was teasing you, you knew that. Joke or not, Regina didn't like it and you could tell by the way her grip tightened on the back of your shirt. "Seriously though, you should go home. Your eyes are fucking crazy right now."

"Where's my phone?" You asked when you noticed your pockets were feeling a little light.

"I have it. Let's go." Regina tugged your shirt and nudged you forward. "I'll bring you home."

"Nobody has to bring me home. I will take an Uber or call my dad. I'm not ruining anyone's fun. I feel fine guys, honestly." You lied. You felt nauseous and dizzy. Your heart was also racing crazy fast and you aren't sure if it's from the coke or Regina's fingertips against your back. "Also, Ave, people were fucking on your bed. Before I forget."

"Ugh, what the fuck!" She stomped and busted into her room. It was empty now, but very clearly, uh, used. She abandoned you to take care of that mess and you honestly don't even blame her.

"I'm gonna take you. Let's go." She repeated, clearly eager to just get you the fuck out of there.

"I'm gonna walk out with y'all. This party just ain't it for me, honestly." He held his arm out for you and Regina nudged you toward him. You hooked your arm around his and he walked you down the stairs, Regina trailing not too far behind you. "Let me tell you something." He said when Regina was out of earshot after letting you know she was going to get her purse and say goodbye to people.

"Hmm?"

"I thought Regina was gonna beat Ava's ass, girl. She was pissed." He shoved past the last few people on the front porch and led you to Regina's car.

"Really, why?"

"Well, I ran after you trying to find you. You were like a fart in the wind. Just poof, gone. Could not find you. I swear I went upstairs and you were not there, granted, I didn't necessarily look down. I came to Ava to get her to help me find you. Mind you, at this point, Regina came in to look for Gretchen and Karen cause they were still in the garage fighting over some stupid shit with her. Regina came in and overheard I couldn't find you. Ava was dismissive at first, said you would be fine. Regina kept her cool, kept it together. But then," he rested you against her jeep. "But then she said 'it was just a little coke. They're fine.' Honey, if you didn't tell us y'all were sneaking around, she would've gave it away then and there."

"Get the fuck out. What did she do? Wait, shush she's coming." You readjusted yourself when you saw Regina approaching with her bag, a bottle of water, and her clunky keys in hand.

"Talking shit?" Was the first thing out of her mouth as soon as she got close enough, sending a smirk your way while she unlocked the car. "Thank you, Isaac." She said as he helped you get situated in the passenger seat.

"I don't even feel it anymore, guys. I really think I'm fine."

"Mmm mmm." He shook his head, reaching across you to hand Regina your seatbelt to click in. "You need some sunglasses or something you look scary."

"Goodnight, Isaac." You rolled your eyes and he pressed a kiss against your cheek. "Text me when you're home?"

"Of course. You, too, please. I'm calling you tomorrow, too. Night, Regina." He waved at you both before closing the door and making his way to his car.

You both watched in silence waiting for him to get into his car safely.

"You're gonna come to my house tonight." She stated, putting her car in drive and not really giving you an option. She pulled your phone out and handed it to you. "Text your dad. I'll bring you home in the morning."

You unlocked your phone to see a bunch of texts and calls from Isaac, Ava, and mostly Regina. You can tell at some point, they all found your phone or realized you didn't have it because the messages stopped around the same time.

The final message Regina had sent you on their quest to locate you, after a slew of semi annoyed ones, or about how it wasn't funny, or that she was actually worried, was simply just 'baby please'. You stared at the words for a minute, letting the words burn into your brain before you were pulled from your thoughts and asked you if you texted him.

"Oh, yeah. Yes." You shot him a quick message and he responded almost immediately. He must've have been awake watching tv or playing a video game, but he's always been a night owl like that. Especially on weekends. He told you to be safe and to call if you needed anything. "Are you sure it'll be okay that I'm there? I can go home. I really think I'll be okay."

"Stop."

"Okay, sorry." You settled into the seat, turning your knees away from her. You felt bad about ruining the party for her, ruining her night, making her feel like he has to bring you home with her and take of you.

You were probably overthinking and maybe still slightly paranoid, but it just wasn't a great feeling.

She clicked her tongue in annoyance and reached across your seat, grabbing your knee furtherest away from her and giving it a tug so they were back facing her direction. She kept her hand planted firmly on your knee until she pulled into the drive way of her mansion. Which, yeah, understandable.

She parked in what was probably an eight car garage and led you inside of the house. There was a light left on in the main stairway for her, but otherwise it seemed the rest of the house was asleep. When you tried taking your shoes off at the door so you weren't too loud, she told you everyone took their sleeping pills for the night and would be too knocked out to hear a damn thing.

She led you up to her room and closed the door behind her. Your eyes widened, taking in the space. It felt bigger than your mom's apartment.

"Here." She was smirking when she handed you a pair of clothes to wear for the night. A grey long sleeve t-shirt and a pair of pink sweatpants that had 'slut' written on the back.

"You think you're so cleverrrr."

"I do, actually. And funny. Plus, I think I deserve it for what you put me through."

"I want to lay down so bad I'm not even going to fight you on it." You wouldn't admit it aloud, but they did look comfortable.

"And I want a picture."

"Okay, don't push it." You gave her a pointed look. She laughed and kissed your lips once, then a second time. She let the second kiss linger a little longer, her hand resting on your cheek and her body melting into you.

"I'm gonna shower. I don't care what time it is, I'm taking advantage of my big shower before going back to school. Will you be okay?" She swiped her thumbs across your cheeks and you nodded.

"In that big ass bed? Yeah I'll be so good."

Regina left to the attached bath to take her shower and you changed your clothes. You folded your clothes and put them on her chair. You changed into the clothes she gave you and hummed at how comfortable they were.

You climbed into her bed and picked the side you thought would be correct based off how everything was situated. You layed on top of the covers and sighed when your head hit the pillow. The beds at the dorms sucked, but this bed was also comfier than any other bed you've been on.

You closed your eyes, listening to the sound of the water coming from Regina's bathroom. You heard her come out of the bathroom at some point. She was walking around the room, doing a bunch of things but you were too lazy to open your eyes and see what.

The bed dipped and you felt her slide into the space next to you. The smell of her floral body wash and shampoo flooding your sense.

Her lips pressed against your cheek and her hand found it's way up your shirt to rest on your stomach to trace patterns around your belly button. You smiled and squirmed a little cause it tickled. You felt her smile against your cheek and she pressed a quick kiss to your lips before pulling away.

"Hey." You mumbled in protest, cracking an eye open to see she was adjusting the towel for her hair.

She laughed at your impatience and got herself comfortable again, supporting her head with her hand to keep it off her pillows for now. Her other hand found its way to the waistband of your pants, twirling the drawstring.

"These look good on you. Pink is totally your color." You grunted and she laughed through her nose. "I definitely need to see the back in action though. Give me a little turn." She nudged your hip and you let out a loud laugh, turning on your stomach for her. "So gorg, babe!" She was laughing with you, her hand coming down to smack your ass cheek a few times, which sent you both into a fit of giggles.

She wrapped an arm around you and buried her face between your shoulder blades. You tugged her arm to pull her closer to you and laced your fingers together. She shifted behind you and the towel on her head went zooming across the room. You settled deeper into her chest and her grip around you tightened.

"Will you need a ride back to school tomorrow?"

"I was just gonna take the train back."

"Ew, no. I'll take you to get your stuff from your dad's and we can go together

"Cool, thank you." You nodded, feeling yourself start to fall asleep. Regina kissed the back of your head and began to pull away.

"I need to do my skin and hair routine. Get under the covers and go to sleep."

"S'fine." You mumbled, already too far gone and making no effort to move whatsoever.

[imliterallyf7ckin9crazy]

“ℑ’𝔩𝔩 𝔤𝔢𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔶𝔢𝔱, ℑ’𝔳𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢”

Squid game season 2

In-ho x f!reader

Warnings: in ho is obsessive, stalking, poverty, cannon violence, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, loss of sanity, reader is an absurdist, childhood abuse, obsession, sad stuff.

NOT PROOF READ OR EDITED. This will also be a THREE PART SERIES bc quite honestly I can’t write much at one time smh. Also do not take reader too seriously she crazy as hell.

Also sorry reader and in-ho barely interact this chapter bc I needed to set the scene so you know what I’m talking abt. Pls read still tho bc I think it’s cool :3 you’ll need it for part two and part three.

TLDR: this is gonna be long af. So basically the reader is previous winner like gi hun only she went kinda crazy after her first game. So she gets like mentally locked in the games so to speak and so after she wins she doesn’t pay any of her debts and actually tried to accumulate more so she can be recruited again. She gets her card and when she talks to in ho he is like “why would u do this” and she’s like “bro bc i think I understand you and shi” and he’s like “if you can win again we can talk lol” and she is like bet. Only he tries to rig it against her. But she is dead set on winning.

A/N: am I projecting? Maybe. Also this shit is LONG sorry it took so long

————

Sometimes, when you find yourself winding through random back alleys or when you lie your head to rest at night, you can still hear the screams..

You can still feel the reverberation of each gunshot fired into the innocent flesh of desperate people. The wetness of the blood that splatters your face as others die before your eyes and you can’t quite tell if the screaming your were hearing was theirs or yours.

And sometimes you can still make out all the promises that were made in the dormitory. The faint memories of the voices of friends you made. The exact sound of their voices lost to time, but the faces of their lifeless bodies remained unchanged in your mind. Some of them were at the hands of players and some of pink soldiers.

And one at your hands.

Life had been cruel to you long before being convinced to risk it all. To say your early life was messy would be an understatement. Years of falling to sleep bloody and bruised, countless hours of begging for basic needs, and endless attempts to run away and make it better. Trying anything to make you feel whole. Like nothing ever happened at all. Once you got a job your parents kicked you out and left you to fend for yourself. At first it was great, you didn’t feel like you were being suffocated anymore. Until you got fired.

The place you worked at was shut down due to the owner embezzling the money and getting caught. The business soon went down at for lack of funds. And the reality of life became clear to you once again. Over time the hope you had to escape your parents and live the life you dreamed of as a young girl was drained from your soul. Ever since then you’ve been doing this. Wandering the streets aimlessly, almost as if you had never been in your home city a day in your life. You can’t even see the faces of those around you. Every face is replaced by one of four faces… ever since then that is.

The first face is younger you, battered and bruised to all hell. You see her face on usually younger people. No matter what they’re saying or doing the expression she gives is always the same. Glosses over eyes and facial features set in a way that screams both “why would this happen to me” and “what the hell became of us”. You cant even begin to answer those questions.

The second is the face of your father. Almost every man looks like him now. Though you haven’t seen him in years, since the game he’s come back to haunt you. To remind you there’s more wrong with you than what happened in those couple days. That there’s more broken about you. His expression stays angry. Tense like he’s going to hit you. For this you almost never interact with men and if you do it always end poorly.

The third is the one drives you insane most.

There was this beautiful, kind girl you once knew. Growing up she was the only thing that made living worth it. You were picked on quite a bit at school, be it because you never really spoke or because you had to be such a goodie two shoes to stay out of trouble at home. But she always stepped in at just the right time to save you. Even though her own home situation was much less than desirable she still found time to comfort you when you were in shambles or got into trouble to defend you. You both told each other everything, both pillars in the other’s lives. But after being kicked out you were forced to lose contact, solely because you couldn’t contact her or get to her part of town. That was until you joined the games at your lowest possible time to try and get some money to keep your loaners from finding you and gutting you for profit. Guess who you saw.

The girl that meant everything to you was suddenly standing before you. Deep You both scolded each other for getting into so much debt you had to meet here. Giving each other shit, like you used to. Looking back you almost chuckle at that for the nativity you both had. You watched people die together. Sprayed and stained with so much blood you didn’t now who’s it was. She kept you alive in there, with out her keeping you calm you probably would have died or quite frankly killed yourself. Against all odds you made it to the final three together against a man who needed the money for his family. She told you it was “okay “to take his life in his sleep after the final dinner because he would have done the same if either of you if you had fallen asleep. That morals in this situation would only get you both stuffed into a gift box. And so you both took his life for the sake of yours. You can still feel your stomach dropping as he pleaded for his life while you and your friend stared down at him cruelly, begging falling on deaf ears as you tore him to shreds with dirty steak knives.

Of course after that it was final two. When the last game was revealed, squid game, you remembered only one could leave. Actually, the both of you used to play squid game in school. Even if it’s typically a “boys game”, she was great defense and you were quick enough for easy offense. Genuinely, those were one of your fondest memories. Of course you’d be pinned against each other for the last time. Though you didn’t know it, the VIPs plans were to be able to watch an animalistic death match. However, you and your friend came to an agreement. No weapons, no fist fights to the death. You both knew you couldn’t kill each other, so you decided to simply play the game for the last time. The loser would take their lives themselves, with honor. And so you did. It became your last good memory. You were laughing for the last time, giggling like you were back to being school girls beating the popular boys at their favorite game. You still roughed each other up, nearing the end you both couldn’t ignore you were fighting for the death. That one of your lives hinged on this moment.

At the end, it was you who had won. You told her that you could both just back down and go home. You tried to convince her but she was set on this being the end, regardless how much you cry. You still remember what she told you before she slit her own throat clean open with her steak knife right before you, blood mixing with the mud and rain of the arena.

She said “I can’t go back there. Not without that money. I’ve had more fun here with you than I ever did my whole life. I got to be a little girl again with you. I can’t go back. This is the way I want to go, y/n.” And gave you a smile with tears turned invisible because of the rain. But you knew she was crying. “I love you”

then she was gone. As you rushed to her side, screaming her name until your throat was raw and starting to bleed you noticed her face. This look of bliss on her face, this twisted look of satisfaction graced her features as she bled from her self inflicted wound and stained your clothes and soul forever. You see that face on almost every woman. Eyes wide in ecstasy, faint smile and whole face covered in bright red blood. How badly you wished it was you instead of her, how badly you wanted to feel the contentment in life she had in those final not. That day you decided when you died it would be like her on that day.

Lastly, the fourth one you weren’t sure if it really counted as a face. It was the black geometric mask of the man who supposedly put you there. After you won you got to speak with him on the way home. Blindfold sure, but you found a tiny sliver where you were able to make out what he looked like. It was less soulless than the pink guards you had seen. It actually looked like a face, only it was made of many shapes. No one ever has his face, but you see him everywhere, more than any of the others. He’s always in the corner of your eye, you can make out his mask in the shadows of buildings, swearing you can see him watching you through your house window at night. No matter where you are you feel him watching.

For those reasons you almost never go out during the day, preferring to slink around and waste your hard earned murder money on stupid shit or alcohol. After all, why not? It goes without saying you were never the same after the games. It became all you thought about, every waking hour became ‘how was that possible? Who was really behind it? Why would they do this?’ So many questions swirled in your mind. You had theories for each of those questions already sure, but physically no way to know for certain. That not knowing sunk so deeply into your blood and poisoned your mind you came up with a new question to silence the voices that screamed at you and the faces you saw.

‘How do I get back?’

You became obsessed with many insane schemes and ploys to get yourself back in. Countless hours poured into the optimum plan to weasel a way inside the game again and truly figure this shit out. So you went back to the basics

Question: how where the games possible? Answer: clearly it was a high budget operation, meaning the money was coming from somewhere. But I mean come on-that’s too much money for just one person not even including the cash prize! So it has to be multiple people funding the whole thing. Thats theory #1

Question: who is really behind it? Answer: Ties into previous theory. If it’s multiple people, then who? Who’s setting it up and then who’s paying? Clearly that masked man is the leader or else he wouldn’t be so reclusive… but who is he throwing these games for? He said it’s just to give people a second chance but that just can’t be true but it can’t be just for him. There has to be people watching, that’s theory #2.

Question: why would they do this? Answer: clearly it’s not just for helping the poor- that much is obvious. Now here’s the theory you have that will be impossible to prove without going back. You were thinking about the games…. Kids games and team games. Like ones you would see on tv. Then you remembered how many cameras were everywhere. LITERALLY everywhere. Could just be security but it feels like more. Then the amount of cash and not everyone has that much money. What if there was a couple people paying to watch? Honestly you couldn’t tell if you were onto something or on something but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched by something bigger. Theory #3

And lastly and the most important question.

“How are you getting back?”

Why did they pick everyone? Because you had crazy amounts of debt. How did they get you there? Played games in train stations, then got picked up in a car and gassed out.

After months of speculation and planing this was what you could come up with. You had already paid off all of your debt and had so much left over money. You started spending recklessly, at one point just handing out money. People looked at you crazy but you didn’t even know it. You were in your own world let alone had the courage to look at their faces…

You began taking out extremely large loans with no intentions of paying anything. You were going out of your way to accumulate as much debt as possible. Consciously double crossing dangerous people. You kinda hoped sometimes that all these people would be able to find you and put you out of your misery but you were just too good at playing life threatening games. As the year went on you continued to pour so much money into the drain in hopes to be put back on the list for the games. Until that fated time of year came, when you remember being kidnapped.

You eventually realized no matter what you did you’d probably never run out of cash. One very late night after a particularly rough day you decided to gather all your money and dump it into your fire pit and set it all on fire. The tears running down your face contrasting with the wide smile on your face. It was a very bittersweet feeling to watch all the money you killed and almost died for burn in front of your eyes. The money 455 people fought and were slaughtered like animals for being reduced to ashes. But it also felt so good to lose it all and return to at least one about your old life. The time of recruitment was drawing near. You kept wasting money and hiding for your life until you gained even more debt than you had the first time. Honestly you were kind of impressed with yourself- think about it! You were able to accrue more debt in one year than you did your whole life up to this point.

It did briefly cross your mind that if this doesn’t work you literally burned all your money and multiple gangs and organizations wanting to harvest your organs for a quick paycheck. If you don’t get back in this year the chances of you trying again next year before one of many catch and kill you are extremely low. Oddly enough you didn’t mind living on the edge anymore, living within an inch of losing your life daily became so normal to you it almost felt fun. You started to see the world much differently the closer it came to hunt for that elusive recruiter. You think you’re starting understand the whole point of the games themselves.

The more you lived the way you did the more of humanity you saw. The lows of the human experience and the ugliness that controlled the heart of every person alive. And you noticed that the grand majority of these horrors revolved around money. Now that money had lost all value to you it became silly to see all these people just like you were so desperate for just enough money to save them to come along. To be fair it gets to a point where all you can do is pray it will work itself out.

But you watched people run themselves in circles for cash. Kill and be killed for cash. Lie, cheat, betray all for money. You see that no amount of money can take away the wrongs you did for it. All it really is is paper with no actual value. That money doesn’t really mean anything, it’s all an imaginary system people made themselves. All people do to become rich means nothing but they are greedy enough to put money before life. The money means nothing, the actions mean everything.

So then what’s the point of living? If it’s all based off a make believe value system built to extort and corrupt. If everything is rendered meaningless because people put values in the wrong things. If humanity is rotten to the core and unable to see what really matters then what the fuck is the reason to exist?

There is none. Isn’t that beautiful? All that you strive to do in life will not matter once you die. At death a successful man is as poor as a homeless man. In 100 years whatever you did in your small, insignificant life will be forgotten. There’s no point!! You could go and burn all your money, kill someone, lie and cheat and you’d STILL be on the same level as the richest person in the world. That revelation changed your whole view of the world and yourself.

Then the same day came again. The same exact day a year ago when you were suddenly approached by a man with a suitcase full of money and two pieces of paper. You went to the same train station at around the same time as you did before. Your mind was completely fogged with anticipation as your heart raced. You could barely walk straight or hear anything. You had to actually look at people to see if you could see that man, and every face was one you always tried to run from.

You breathed heavily and tears started to prick your eyes as they darted from person to person. You, your dad, your friend. You, your dad, your friend. They were everywhere. You felt as though you were going faint or throw up or both? You knew the people in the station had to be judging you even if you couldn’t quite see them. You felt like a fish In the ocean wandering without a reason. Eventually after you didn’t even know how long you chose to sit down on a bench and you just started to cry into your hands. You heard people mumble about if they should help you or not. Unsurprisingly no one did.

This wasn’t working and you were so fucked. But even as you cried you still believed this suffering was just a drop in the bucket. It didn’t really matter. Not anymore

Just as you were about to call it quits and go back home and hide until you couldn’t anymore you heard a voice so familiar it sent a shock through your whole body. Your head snapped up and a gasp was ripped from your throat

“Ms.(last name). I hoped we’d never have to meet here again”

Your eyes widened as you saw his face. It was the same man who came to you a year ago. You could actually see his face, the first real face you’ve seen on a person since you’ve gotten back since the game. All you could do is look up at him from your spot on the bench with wide delusional looking eyes.

“May I sit here?” He asks politely, to which you responded with a fast nod. He looked at you with this look of… pity? You figured you must look pretty pathetic nowadays. You have maybe 3 outfits total and you really haven’t been eating well. He smiled. before speaking again.

“Your debt has increased since the last time we met, but you knew that correct?” He asks. You nod again. You planned everything but what to say. “Why haven’t you payed it off?”

“Well I uh… kinda did? Most of it now is all new” you said with a shaky voice. He raised his eyebrows and chuckled a bit, finding it at least amusing. You knew it was an impressive feat. “I also set all my money on fire maybe a month or two ago? I’m actually not sure when…” you trailed off, trying to pinpoint the time when it dawned on you that you actually have had no true concept of time. You just know it’s been a year since you returned home. You can only really remember events but the time not so much.

“Ah, grown bored have we?” He mused. You knew that wasn’t quite it but seeing as you didn’t really know what’s made you do everything you have so far, only you knew you had to do it. You gave him another nod. He kept the same customer service type smile as he reached over and opened his case. It was set just as you remembered with the money and the ddakji. You sighed a bit before speaking “do I have to play again? I already know what happens and I don’t really want to be hit right now” you said, not really thinking. You didn’t know if you were in a place to be making requests but here you are.

You got another laugh from him, you didn’t know you were just so passively comical. “You dont have to, no. But maybe it will bring you back to your senses and you’ll live life how you were supposed to”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. ‘Live life like I was supposed to’. Is there any way someone is supposed to live? You didn’t think that way. You weren’t supposed to live any type of way, you should have died in that arena and-

“Are you sure this is what you want to do. What are you trying to gain?” His voice sounded pressed now, clearly trying to guide you into walking away. But if that was going to work you would have kept your money and moved far far away. You didn’t like being talked to like you didn’t know what’s made you were doing. You knew better than anyone you had lost your mind. You knew the things you were thinking, feeling, and thinking were most likely wrong. But you had no other option. No treatment for whatever illness is controlling your life.

“Im not trying to gain anything. I lost what I lost and I want it to stay gone…Please, just give me the card” your eyes were looking dead into his, voice wobbly with both terror and excitement. You held your hand out and you couldn’t even tell it was shaking. You couldn’t tell anything from anything. He lightly shook his head before reaching into his suits breast pocket and pulls out a brown business card. Upon seeing it you almost felt as if you were going to throw up right there. Your throat itched to scream and your legs twitched as if you were about to run away.

However when he placed the card into your hand all you did was close your fingers around it. Whole body shaking as you thanked him for the opportunity, just as you did when he gave it to you the first time. You both stood up and got ready to part ways for the second time. Right as you were about to bow your head he stopped you.

“Don’t become too full of yourself. Just because you won before means nothing the second time. I’ve seen many winners over the years, you will be no different than the other pieces of trash when you die in there. Is that really what you want?”

You opened your mouth to retaliate when he lifted his hand to stop you. “Have a great life, young miss. I hope you make the right decision” he says with his signature smirk and bow he walked in the direction opposite of the way you had to go. Presumably off to recruit more clueless individuals down on their luck. You had to hurry home now, you’d been out far too long and you knew people had people looking out for you. Waiting to catch you and make you pay. You quickly got out of the train station and started on your way back to the shitty, cheap hotel you’ve been hiding in. You’d been in that danm station for so long the sun had began to rise. The sky looked more pigmented, the air felt cleaner and you could actually think without hearing stray gunshots or phantom screams. You looked down at the small card in your clutches and flipped it over, revealing the number you had to call.

For the first time you hesitated in your plan. You were really about to go back to the place that ruined you. You missed the old version of you, when your real personality existed and you had a life. All you do all day is cry and shake and bang your head until you can form a thought. You were nothing like you remember being.

Maybe that’s what pulled you back there. The old you bringing you back to the last place she existed. A part of you actually did die in there, the part that still believed in people. She died right there with your friend, you left your soul in that dirt plot. And maybe you could find her again.

Once you got to the door of your room and got yourself inside you dialed up the number on your card and hit call. It rung a few times and when it picked up the automated voice command the same statement as before.

“If you wish to participate please state your full name and date of birth”

The words got stuck in your throat as you held the phone up to your mouth. This was your last chance to find something within you to back away.

“Y/n, D/O/B” you barely got it out fully as your stomach sank. This is what you wanted. This is what you asked for. Nothing matters. Nothing matters. Nothing-

“Player 444.” That’s him. That man with the black mask, that’s his voice. Hearing your number made you hold your breath and lose your balance. It’s been so long since you’ve been called that name. You knew it was him because his voice changer was a slightly different pitch than the other workers. “What is the point of this?” He asked with a serious voice, bordering threatening. You had an answer for this. “There is none. Get it? If there’s no reason to do it there’s no reason not to.”

He only hummed in response. Seemingly understanding at least a bit of what you said. “I have questions for you” you continued. This is what you’ve been waiting for. This was the point. You just needed to know

“questions?” He repeated. You guess he’s never been pressed by someone before. Small amounts of amusement was in his voice as if shocked anyone would speak to him like that

“Yes questions that’s what I said. Who are you and how are you able to get our information. Where did you take me. What is the point of-“

“I’ll tell you what” he cut you off in the middle of your frantic questioning. It’s probably for the best of you would never had stopped talking for him to even answer. You waited on bated breath, hanging on his words as you kept the phone pressed flush against your skin. Compartmentalizing his voice and how he talks into a file in your mind. “You want to play again because you want to know if your right, is that correct”

what he said caught you so off guard you didn’t even reply when he gave you a chance to respond. Every word got stuck in your throat to the point all that came out was strangled starts of a sentence. “You must have many theories in that little mind of yours. You’re coming because you think you’re smart enough to figure everything out, don’t you?”

Well… like kinda yeah that is what you think. You didn’t really know what to say, he hit it right on the head. You did think you could figure it out, actually you think you already have most of it. Not even his taunting could pull you out of that.

“Let’s play a game. If you can win again we can have a talk and I’ll tell you all you need to know. Only if you’re the last one standing.”

You knew it could never be that easy. With an operation of this scale and price you knew you would never get an offer so open. ‘If you can win again I’ll tell you anything’ they must believe you lost your brains when you lost your mind. Suddenly you did feel like you really didn’t know what you were getting into. It feels like a trap has already been set for you, it feels like they knew you were going to return all along. You struggled to breathe until you manged to force out a “okay”.

There was a muffled chuckle you could barely hear. There was something different now. You weren’t so sure about your plan anymore. He hadn’t said anything out right threatening or scary yet you knew he had something in store for you or else he never would put so much on the line. You just made a deal with the devil.

The original phone opera voice came back to tell you where to be picked up and that it would be this night. The phone hung up after that. All that remained was a deafening silence. It was done. You got what you had so badly wanted. But why doesn’t it feel as good as you wanted. Why don’t you feel fixed? Why hasn’t the old you come back to fix everything? That sinking feeling started bubbling over as you stood there with your phone in your hand. Beginning to hyperventilate you make your way to the crumby hotel bathroom and splash water in your face. You keep from looking in the mirror because you know what you’ll see. It will either be your friend or younger you. It used to be a huge problem when you first got out. Every time you’d forget and see them staring back at you you’d have another break down. Now it just puts you on edge, but it would be best if you just refrained from looking. You keep telling yourself that you can figure it out, you keep telling yourself it doesn’t matter if you live or die in there, you keep believing there’s no point in running from what would free you of your pain. Something deep inside tells you that you are close to seeing what the people who run this game do. That the epiphany they had to come up with this would make it all worth it. All you wanted was to see the bigger picture.

You could die happy and content dying just like your dear friend if it meant you could understand what it was all for. It’s on the tip of your tongue waiting to said and recognized.

You spend hours mulling over thoughts similar to these ones while you counted down the time before being relocated to what might as well be hell. You knew at this point you were walking into a death trap made just for you. You were going to either be granted the privilege of seeing the greater purpose of your suffering. You believed there had to be a reason, someone had to have figured out something huge to make them come to this.

Finally the fateful time reared its ugly head and you tugged on your coat. You looked at your room for the last time. You stood in the door way as your eyes brushed over all you had been. Papers scattered about, bottles of alcohol strewn about and random belongings resting in odd spots. It was time to say good bye once again. You are willing to leave it all behind and relive everything if it meant finding a purpose.

Eventually you arrived to you meet spot, an extremely expensive looking limousine was parked and waiting for you exactly where the phone operator said it would be. It was shiny and black with completely tinted windows. The anxiety you felt caused you to raggedly pant as you approached the car with unsteady steps. You gently opened the car door and stepped inside. The interior was white and luxurious and in front of your seat laid a golden pig. You sighed and closed your eyes waiting for the gas to kick in and claim your consciousness. Tears rolled slowly down your face as every even that happened in the games flash before your eyes. The blood, the screaming, the bits of brains and guts dried onto your clothes, and most of all the severed neck of the only friend you ever had. And to even your surprise you began to smile and giggle as you saw what happened to you play out like a movie in your minds eye. The gas started to be deployed into your enclosed car as your giggles became louder and more deranged. Sobs and laughter being mixed together as everything became hazy and burred.

Right before you black out you hear the masked man’s voice come from the little pigs speaker, loud and clear

“Welcome back, player 444. I hope you are happy with your decision”

_______

Sorry the friend is gonna remain nameless so you can imagine whoever. But next chapter when you get in the games there will be named characters. Again sorry you and in ho barely talked I just needed to get the exposition out before writing the main bits. Thank you sm gang and the next part will be out soon.

Also sorry end is kinda rushed I’m tired

[chrissv4mp]

— I COULD CHANGE YOUR LIFE -

chap 1 , get that girl. — | — ...back — | — next...

summary: the interaction at the diner hasn't left his thoughts, and chris just can't help himself when it comes to your beautiful presence, so he follows you home.

pairing: stalker!chris sturniolo × singer!reader

warnings + topics: cursing, stalking, murder, weapons, blood, obsessive behavior, suggestive moments, breaking & entering, crying, arguments, chris is crazy, choking, drowning, first person, second person, etc. more than half of these topics are mentioned in later chapters.

author's note: if the person reading this is sensitive to any of the topics listed above, please do not read this. i am not responsible for your own media consumption, and will not change any aspect of the story for your own pleasure. (this will be the last time i will state this, please scroll if you're not comfortable.)

author's note 2: he's giving joe goldberg!! this chapter is written mainly in 1st person, & the first half is chris' perspective! i'll clarify that throughout the story.

author's note 3: you guys are getting this a little earlier because i couldn't wait to post it🗣🗣

word count: 2.8k

why are you walking home alone, y/n? it's not safe out here, especially late at night. what if some creep tries to attack you? i know you're smarter than that.

and you're on your phone, clearly unaware of what's going on around you. you're lucky i'm here to keep you safe. i'll always be.

i reach behind my back, grabbing my hood to throw it over my head. if she saw that i was the one following her, she probably wouldn't watch me anymore. she would think i'm a weirdo.

i hear her laugh, and god, i wish that sound could just repeat in my head for a lifetime. it's such a sweet, soft sound, just like her personality. sweet.

"jamie, don't be such a dick. you know the deadline is coming soon and we have to finish the album." i hear her say, and i can't help but flinch at the sudden noise.

who is she talking to? who is jamie, and why is he being a dick to her? nobody should ever even speak a filthy word to her let alone treat her badly, she's such an angel.

her head turns, and i finally get a glimpse of her earbuds. she can't hear me. no wonder why she hasn't turned back every time i step on the gravelly sidewalk. it's such an annoying sound, always calling me out.

y/n sighs, rubbing her temple with one hand as her free one holds the phone up to her ear, "it's like you don't even care if we descend the charts! maybe ask yourself why you're doing this before you go and screw everything up."

she's tense, i can tell from the way she groans under her breath. i can hear jamie's voice, it's quiet but i can make out what he's saying.

something about rerecording background vocals and going over lyrics again. then, he says something inaudible, and now y/n is on video call with him.

she taps a button, and now i can hear him loud and clear, "just listen to this, it really needs some touch-ups."

i can see his face from the way y/n is holding her phone, and suddenly his eyebrows furrow and he looks directly at me.

the music pauses, and y/n stops in her tracks. she's in the middle of the crosswalk, and i'm just a few feet behind her.

"y/n... who is that?" my eyes widen as i realize he's talking about me. she only laughs nervously, shrugging the uncomfortable feeling off.

don't look back, "stop fucking around and just show me the chorus." she huffs out, another laugh leaving her plump lips.

his eyes are still on me through that screen, and i just continue to walk, hoping that my cover won't be blown.

"no, y/n, look behind you. there's a man following you!" he finally yells, and i curse under my breath as i hear y/n's breathing pick up.

her head whips around, and that's when i panic. fuck, why did her house have to be so far away? damn you, jamie.

my first thought is to just rush her, tackle her to the floor and throw her phone on the ground, but i don't because that would result in hurting her. so, i take the second best option, running to my right and into some bushes.

i hear y/n scream from behind me, and then i hear her footsteps finally run off the crosswalk and across the street. my foot gets caught on a stick, and i fall face first into the dirt.

my knees hit the ground, and i groan at the sharp pain of rocks on my flesh. my hands sunk into the mud beneath me, getting the hem of my sweatshirt sleeves dirty, "dude, what the fuck?"

i stand up again, shaking my hands out in front of me in hopes of getting the mud off. some of it does, and a small amount of damage is repaired, but there's still cuts and bruises forming on my lower half.

my eyes wander, looking down at my bloodied knees. why did i even wear jorts today? it's boston, it's not supposed to be hot after 6 pm.

my hands clench into fists, and anger begins to boil under my skin. it feels like it's 90° now, snd i just want to punch something. why do my plans always fucking fail? no matter what i do, the outcome is horrible.

not this time. no, i'm not gonna let this silly little thing mess up my plan. this is just a setback, and there's always downs in life, don't let it get the best of you, chris.

"breathe." i mutter, closing my eyes and taking a few deep breaths. i wish matt was here, he would know what to do. he would console me and tell me everything's gonna be alright.

he would tell me to keep going, get the girl. and that's exactly what i'm gonna do, whether jamie likes it or not. because this is just a minor setback, nothing will stop me from getting y/n. no one will stop me.

"you're starrin' in my dreams,

in magazines,"

it's the next day, and now matt is dabbing the large cut on me with a cotton ball. the hydrogen peroxide stings, and i flinch as he puts a bit more pressure.

"matt!" i groan, reaching for his hand. he swats mine away, looking up into my eyes with a stern expression.

i shut my mouth and just look away, trying not to focus on the pain too much as my brother pushes it against my knee. i hear him let out a long sigh, and then my attention is back on him.

he gives me a knowing look, and then he speaks, "what'd you do this time?" my eyebrows furrow in offense. i never do anything, it's not always my fault.

i scoff, looking around at anything but matt. how could i explain that i was following the love of my life, that doesn't know she's the love of my life yet, home, and then got caught and threw myself into some bushes? he would think i'm a maniac, and that's the last thing i want my older brother to think of me as.

"i tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. it was hugeee, matt, you really should've seen it." way to go, chris, that's so believable.

he shrugs, a smile coming to his face as he laughs, "i'm not even surprised." that was very believable, chris. way to go!

"not surprised is crazy." nick chimes in, and both mine and matt's heads whip up in the direction of his voice.

he's leaning against the door frame of my bedroom, a smug smirk on his face as he squints his eyes to see my knees better, "wow, chris, who pushed you off the slide?"

i just flip him off, they're treating me like a child. i'm smarter than that, i'm tougher than the both of them. well, maybe not nick, but i'm close!

"actually go choke." i groan, throwing myself back against the mattress as disappointment washes over me. if i had just thought before i followed y/n then maybe i would know where she lived, and whoever the fuck jamie is. such a snitch.

matt peels the plastic seal from the bandaid, and then he sticks it onto the cut on my knee. he inhales sharply before getting to his feet again, "alright, you're fine now. take the bandaid off when it stop bleeding, 'kay?"

i only hum in response, my emotions all over the place and getting the best of me. this entire situation is so idiotic and childish, i don't need a bandaid.

nick walks out after matt, making sure to shut the door. wow, he's finally learned after all the times i've scolded him about not closing it.

there's still mud in the crevices between my fingers and under my nails. it's uncomfortable in more than one way. i just want the memory of that night to be gone, erased from my memory for my entire life.

but i'm not ever gonna forget it, and it's gonna be hard to forget when the girl i want is a constant reminder of that incident. it's whatever, though. in the end it will pay off, all the things i'll do for her attention will pay off. i know it will.

my feet begin to swing as they dangle off the edge of my bed, and then they hit something. i finally sit up straight, looking down at where my feet are planted. the box, that box full of magazines and letters, prints and various drawings of y/n.

i look toward my door before grabbing the box and placing it on my bed softly. my fingers hook under the top, and it falls to the side, revealing your face on the covers of multiple magazines.

i never missed a day when rolling stone, variety, and even vogue came out with new magazines that featured y/n on the covers and in all of the pages inside. i even bought some that had her on only a single page, then i cut them out and threw it in here.

nobody could call themselves y/n's biggest fan with me still alive. they don't know her like i do, even if we just met for the first time on—no, even if we just reconnected for the first time in forever yesterday.

"pretty girl." i whisper. even if she can't hear, i know she knows that. she's the prettiest girl in the world, who wouldn't compliment her?

i grab the first magazine, my eyes darting all around her beautiful body and facial features before putting it to the side and admiring the next one. it should be a crime to be this gorgeous, she shouldn't even be allowed outside.

what if something happens to the girl? her security wouldn't care, but i would. the things i'd do for that girl i can't even explain. i don't need her love for that, though, because i can just protect her even when she's not watching. i need her love because that is the only thing that keeps me going.

her interviews where she says how much she loves and appreciates her fans, that keeps me going. that night at the diner when she said she watched my videos, oh, that's gonna keep me up for a long time.

who would've known that night would take a turn because i sure didn't. i thought it would go smoothly and that i would make it all the way to her home, surprise her. but no, it went horribly all because of that fucking dipshit jamie.

he's the one who ruined our romantic walk, he's the one who ruined my chances of getting her to fall for me. jamie ruined everything, and fuck, i just want to strangle him until his head pops. i just want to watch him as he gets ruined, as his life gets ruined in front of the entire world.

i don't even realize that i'm crushing a page of her magazine until i hear a crunch, and now suddenly, i'm back in my room as i stare at her beautiful, crushed face. panic spikes in my heart, and my free hand comes up in an effort to smoothen down the paper like it was before. no, this was a special magazine, it couldn't be ruined.

my breathing hitches, and i huff out as i just throw it back into the box. my hand reaches for the other one, and i place it gently atop of the crumpled paper before closing the box and setting it under my bed again.

i kick it further under the bed frame until i hear it hit the wall with a quiet thud, and then i let out a breath that i didn't know i'd been holding in. i'm letting my anger get a hold of me again, just like it almost did last night.

"deep breaths, chris. just breath." i tell myself, grabbing the sheets and running my thumbs along the fabric as i breath in through my nose and out through my mouth.

if i let anger get the best of me i'll ruin my plan for y/n, and then she'll never want to speak to me or even see me again.

"you're looking right at me."

pov = second person...

you smile at the boy across from you, giggling at the stupid knock knock joke he had just told you, "that wasn't even funny, it's just your laugh, jamie!"

he scoffs in faux offense, putting a hand to his chest as he takes a sip of his coffee. before speaking again, he swallows, "don't try to convince yourself that i'm not the funniest guy you've ever met."

you only roll your eyes at the blond, looking away from him to admire your surroundings. you and your producer came to this small coffee shop to talk about work and how you both needed to finish the last few songs on your upcoming album before the deadline, and now here you were, laughing at his jokes.

jamie felt like a brother to you, being there for all your highs and lows all throughout these past few years as you grew on the charts. he was always by your side, protecting you from crazy fans and even crazier haters. jamie also treated you like a member of his family, and he said that he'd protect you with his life.

the laughing dies down, and then you hear him sigh. your head turns to look at the boy again, and his eyes meet yours in an instant, "i hope you're being safe out there, y/n. seriously."

your face contorted into a look of happiness and maybe even guilt as you tilted your head, "i promise you i am."

"what about last night, then? you could've gotten kidnapped if it wasn't for me pointing out that creep. he was most definitely following you home, y/n!" he exclaimed, quiet enough that nobody else could hear but loud enough that only you could.

a look of worry was on his face, an expression that you hadn't seen that much of lately. he really was scared for you, especially in the last few months. you were growing in popularity fast, climbing up the charts every week or so.

at your silence, jamie exhaled, "sorry for snapping, you just... you keep me on my toes at all times, and sometimes i don't know what to say." he gives a smile full of sympathy before he takes another sip of his coffee.

you nod, eyes wandering again as you mutter, "it's okay." you knew all he wanted was the best for you, "i should've just gone to liv's apartment. the walk to my place was further than i thought."

your eyes darted all over the small plaza, looking around at all of the different people that walked by. one person in particular caught your eye, and you stared for just a little longer.

chris stared right back at you, hair covering his face along with his black fresh love hoodie. he found you again, and this time he wasn't gonna fuck up.

he saw the way your eyebrows furrowed even from the fountain across from the cafe, and he laughed at your concentrated look. you were trying to figure out who that was.

the brunette couldn't lie, he was a bit jealous of your producer. i mean, he was sitting right across from you and making you laugh. chris should be the guy who makes you laugh!

he'd been watching no less than 15 minutes as you both chatted, cheeks flushing at your perfect smile and beautiful, silky hair that fell over your shoulder just right.

maybe his obsession had grown after that night, but he wasn't some deranged stalker who tracked your every move. that would be insane, and chris would never put himself under that category. maybe.

chris cursed as jamie's head turned in the direction of chris, and the brunette just turned and quickly walked away. his brothers were probably wondering where he was, and the vlog would have to be scrapped if only 2 of them were in it.

jamie's eyebrows furrowed again, and he stood up and quickly grabbed your hand, "we're going, y/n. now."

as he dragged you out of the cafe, you couldn't help but think. who was that mystery guy? was he the guy from last night? why was he following you?

you had so many questions, and yet there were no answers to any of them. not quite yet, anyway. you were gonna have to wait for the right time, and chris had the whole thing planned out already. you'd just have to be patient.

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[lot-of-nothing]

Entwined (Ch. 5)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

A first date???

Warnings: Sexual innuendos and working through internalized homophobia

Author’s Note: No beta but this chapter took me wayyyy too long. This week was crazy with getting a new apartment states away and defending my thesis 😵‍💫

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4

Jacob nervously slipped into the kitchen as Melissa waited expectantly for a ziti you requested to finish baking. He attempted to keep space between himself and the Italian - for his own safety of course. The space between the two roommates had grown after he confronted Melissa a few nights ago about seeing her kiss you. Tonight he was looking to mend the bond between them. 

He leaned on the kitchen island, hands clasped and eyes studying the countertop, “I wanted to, uh... apologize for what happened a few nights ago. I shouldn’t have been so abrasive.”

The redhead only offered him a momentary glance which was harsh and skeptical. It was clear she wasn’t interested in having any conversation about the events Jacob witnessed. While Melissa continued giving Jacob the cold shoulder, he wanted to make it clear he was there to support her, “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you.” “There isn’t anything to talk about.” Melissa quickly responded in a monotone with her back to Jacob so she could go about her business of pulling the ziti from the oven. She placed the baking dish on the top of the stove, and took a deep breath as she pulled the oven mitts from her hands and tossed them onto the counter. Spinning to face her roommate, she cocked her head and forced herself to make peace with the young man, “Thank you, Jacob.”

“I found a new puzzle for tonight... if you would like.” The young man gestured towards the dining room where he left the puzzle, earning a smile from the redhead.

With a flick of her hand, Melissa turned off the oven and folded her arms over her chest, “I would like.”

--

When Melissa picked up your phone call and wedged her phone between her ear and shoulder, she had no idea you were sitting outside her house. Before she could get a word in edgewise, you spoke - trying your best to sound smooth and collected so she couldn’t tell you were fearful of her rejection, “Let’s go, Schemmenti.”

“What?” She leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes to hide her enthusiasm from Jacob who sat across the table with his head cocked, staring at her in curiosity. They were about half way through their 3D puzzle of the statue of liberty when you interrupted. 

After opening your car door, you step out and lean against the car door frame, smirking as you catch a glimpse of her red hair through the front window. You doubled down on your mission of taking Melissa out, giving her an order rather than asking, “Come on out here. I’m taking you on a date.” 

“What makes you think I’d go on a date with the likes of you?” Melissa tittered as she tried to hide how she enjoyed flirting with you from her companion. 

You reply sarcastically, feeling a sense of excitement wash over you when you make her laugh, “My good looks and sense of humor. Or perhaps my love of long walks on the beach.”

Melissa finally lifted herself from her seat so she could make her way to the front window where she pulled aside the sheer blinds to catch a glimpse of you. Your cheeky smile melted Melissa’s icy exterior as did the way you leaned your cheek on your forearm as you gazed at her. She had one hand on her hip as she stared you down, “Where are ya’ takin’ me?” 

“I’m still trying to decide between the Olive Garden or some chain sports bar where we can watch the Cowboys play.” You joke, grinning wildly as you watch her lip curl.

She turned her back to you, looking around the room for her purse and shoes, “Are you tryin’ to get me to say no?”

“Just testing to see how much you like me.” You quip as you watch her curiously. More than anything you hope your joking wouldn’t turn her off from the date you had planned. 

“What’s the dress code?” The redhead asked, glancing down at her comfortable outfit of old jeans and an Eagles shirt. She had been ready to slip on her shoes so she could meet you, but she began to second guess herself. 

“Something easy to take off.” Your quick wit made the redhead stifle a laugh as she clumsily began gathering all of her belongings. Her pacing made her seem a little too eager to Jacob, causing him to arch his brow in amusement. You could see her grabbing her leather jacket and purse which caused you to remember the ziti you asked her to make just for this occasion, “Oh, and did you make that ziti?”

“Well, yeah.” She scoffed, almost offended you would question her willingness to cook for you. 

“Bring that too.” 

— Melissa folded her arms over her chest and watched out the window as she skeptically wondered where you could be taking her so late in the evening. When you turned into the stadium parking lot of the Lincoln Financial Field, she glanced over at you with a look of pure disbelief. She didn’t believe you could get her into the Eagles home stadium for a single moment, “And how do you think you are gettin’ in here?”

“I know a guy.” You shrug as your eyes sweep the parking lot for the entry point your cousin told you to find. 

Melissa was all heart eyes in the passenger seat, watching you with complete amazement. Her chest swelled with pride when you ended up handing over her ziti to your cousin whilst telling them she is the best cook in her family. And the cherry on top was how you gave a subtle threat to your cousin to make sure they would return Melissa’s baking dish to you. In a period of five minutes, you tapped into three of her love languages: having connections, bribery through food, and not-so-subtle threats. 

—

Melissa was like a kid in a candy store as you gave her free reign of exploring the sports complex. As a night security guard, your cousin had agreed to give you access to everything as long as you set him up on a date with some girl you knew from high school and Melissa’s cooking was just the icing on the cake. 

The redhead was in her happy place when she settled on the Eagles sideline bench and grinned up at you, “You didn’t have to go to such great lengths to get me to sleep with ya’.” 

“Who said I was trying to sleep with you?” You cock your head as you stare down at Melissa, your heart jumping into your throat as you consider sharing your true intentions for her. While every fiber of your being was screaming for you to stay quiet, you remembered you were conducting your relationship with Melissa on your own terms rather than giving her all of the power. 

You popped yourself down on the bench next to Melissa, stretching your legs out in front of you as you stated your intentions with confidence, “I’m gonna get you to fall head over heels for me.”

“Oh, is that so?” Mel perked up in faux excitement as she loved to challenge anyone when they were filled with a noticeably high level of confidence. Her heart stalled in her chest at the notion of you trying to get her to fall for you - in a way it felt like too much too soon and a long time coming all at once.

You nod, staring out across the field with your chin held high, “Indeed it is.”

Melissa allowed a few moments to pass between you before she spoke again. While the prospect of a new relationship was frightening for her, she was determined to give a romance with you a fighting chance. She leaned into you when she spoke, giving your arm a loving pinch, “This is a good start, but if your guy can get us into the locker rooms, things will go a lot quicker.” 

—

You shifted the car into park outside Melissa’s house and a silence fell between you. The date had gone well, but now there seemed to be a new energy between you that had yet to be felt by either of you before. It was almost as if there was a palpable mutual yearning that expanded far beyond sexual desire. 

This feeling terrified Melissa.

“Everything is going to change.” When she spoke, you felt the need to do a double take to see if Melissa had been replaced with a 16 year old version of herself. Her tone was the same as when she told her father she wanted to be a teacher rather than the next Effa Manley - fearful of disappointing loved ones.

You shifted in your seat to more readily face the redhead. Cocking your head, you tried to give her an encouraging response, “Why does everything have to change?” 

“Didn’t everything change for you?” She asked as she chewed her lip, one hand lifting to her miraculous medal to rub the image of the Virgin Mary with the pad of her thumb. 

While it wasn’t easy coming out when you were teenagers, you remembered the support you received from your family and Melissa. At the time it was all you felt you needed, but of course, after telling Melissa about your attraction to the fairer sex, you did gain a sexual partner - the thought of which made you grin, “Mostly life was better. It helped having good friends.”

Melissa hummed to acknowledge your response before falling deep into thought. She wouldn’t even know where to start. Jacob would be easy, but Barbra? She felt sick at the thought of even discussing the matter with her. 

You broke up her swirls of anxiety with your own question, “Why did you say yes to this date?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Melissa retorted as she was briefly filled with relief of a lightened mood before realizing you were completely serious. Her face fell once more as you left her in a heavy silence to respond to your question. Her reasoning stemmed from your spat that occurred months ago, “When you told me you remembered that night before the wedding… I forgot how you asked me to give you a chance and I never did.”

“I said a lot more than that.”

“So did I.”

When you opened your door to a red eyed Melissa, you were literally taken aback by the redhead pushing her way into your arms. It was the night before she was set to marry Joe - some loser firefighter she had met while tailgating at a Eagles game. You hated him since Mel told you he wanted to take her to a strip club on the first date. 

While you would never tell her ‘I told you so’, you knew he wasn’t the right person for her. You kept your mouth shut, hugging her to your chest and guiding her further into your little apartment so you could close the door. 

She told you through teary eyes and angry hiccups that the rehearsal dinner had gone terribly and that Joe was a complete pig. You didn’t offer an opinion, opting to let the redhead rage as you settled on the couch together. She would wave her hands over her head and curse in Italian while you nodded along, only deciding to pull her to your chest once more when hot, angry tears began rolling down her cheeks. 

Rubbing Melissa’s back was an easy way to settle her anger, but her tears continued to fall regardless of how many times she wiped them away with her sleeves. You held her face to your chest and spoke softly, hoping she wouldn’t turn her anger onto you, “Maybe you shouldn’t be marrying him if all of this is happening and you aren’t even married yet.”

“My parents have already paid for the wedding. I can’t back out now.” Melissa nuzzled her cheek against your chest. She was in absolute despair yet she wasn’t willing to actively do anything to solve her issue. 

“But if you do, then… maybe we could be together.” It was unavoidable for you to sound like you were begging. You wanted this so badly. You wanted her so badly. In the brief moment where she didn’t respond, you couldn’t stop yourself from trying a little harder, “Come on. Give us a chance, pretty girl.”

Melissa only peered up at you, and her furrowed brows and sad eyes broke your heart. “I want to… I just-”

You held a hand to her cheek, brushing her hair from her face. You were desperate for Melissa to come to her senses. Couldn’t she see that you were meant to be together? Your voice was barely above a whisper as you moved to press your lips to her forehead, “I love you, Melissa. Please.”

The redhead eyes lit up at your words - like you had ignited something within her. Without a moment’s hesitation, Melissa shifted to sneak closer so she could press her lips to yours. She kissed you over and over - each kiss was filled with so much desperation it left both of you breathless. 

She pulled away only for a moment, her forehead resting against yours, “I love you.”

From there you fed off one another’s passion and energy like frenzied sharks. You ended up making love on your living room floor, clinging to one another as if you would be separated forever if any distance formed between you. Only if you would have known that distance was fated to form regardless.

Melissa’s face was unreadable. You couldn’t tell if she was reliving that night with regret or fondness - perhaps it was a combination of both. You watched thoughts run through her mind and her green hues were pleading when she spoke, “Have your feelings changed?”

“Never.”

Melissa both feared and adored your response.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes longer, spiraling at the omissions of love and not wanting your time together to end so soon. It was finally Melissa who made the move to leave, followed by your immediate reaction to open your door as well. You felt the thrum of excitement as you circled the car and walked the redhead to her door. 

She stopped when she had a hand on the door handle and glanced back at you, noticing you were at the bottom step with no intention to go any further. Her brows furrowed in confusion, “Aren’t you coming inside?”

“No. I’m just walking you to your door.” You shrug, craning your neck back to watch her with a cocky smile. 

“Chivalrous.” Melissa’s dry humor emerged as she abandoned the door handle to stand a step above you - her hands sliding up to your shoulders while she stared down at you. After years of being entwined with one another, you wouldn’t have thought her next words would make you so nervous, “Do I get a kiss at least?”

Wrapping your arm around her waist, you pull her into you, relishing in the feeling of her body weight pressing against you. The feeling of her green eyes staring intently down at you was overwhelming, especially as her focus on you was unwavering. Glancing back and forth, you whispered with a shyness that made you want to swallow your words, “Aren’t you worried about the neighbors getting the wrong idea?”

“Hadn’t crossed my mind.” She whispered in return - a white lie meant to soothe any concerns you may have about her intentions. Melissa had no interest in her neighbors knowing more than they needed to about her personal life, but she chose to wrap her arms around your neck and press her lips to yours regardless. 

You could have sworn you felt Melissa Schemmenti moan as she leaned into you more to deepen your kiss. This wasn’t any moan, however. This high pitch, quiet moan was a ‘please dear god keep kissing me’ moan. It made your heart race and your stomach twist into knots - so much so that you pulled away.

“Goodnight, pretty girl.” You lingered close as you whispered your farewell, ghosting her lips with your own before you gingerly took a step back.

Melissa swayed where she stood, her flushed cheeks hidden by the dim lighting of the streetlights. She folded her arms over her chest, shrugging as she hopelessly attempted to find a way to bid you goodbye that wouldn’t rob her of her ‘tough guy’ style. The redhead suppressed a smile and watched you through heavy lidded eyes - she was smitten and hated every bit of it. “Yeah yeah yeah. Get off my lawn before I have to turn a hose on ya’.”

—

Melissa settled onto the couch next to Jacob and was stewing with mixed emotions she didn’t know how to process. For years she hadn’t given you the chance of letting you in emotionally, and the very second she let her walls down, she was tripping over herself to get your attention. She found you to be a perfect balance of everything she wanted in a potential partner, successfully making her feel remorse for how much of your time she had wasted by not pursuing this sooner. Mel was fearful of how you would move forward together, but god she wanted it terribly. 

Jacob interrupted her thoughts with his own - knowing full well he was treading on grounds that could quickly earn him a place on Melissa’s ‘Perpetually Ignore’ list. He was shockingly plain and confident with his words, “I know you are going through something right now, but don’t... hurt your friend in the process.”

Melissa sat in his words, truly taking them to heart. She wanted to do better by you and she knew where she needed to start, but she was fearful of taking that leap. The redhead stared down into her lap as she began picking at her nails, “We aren’t really friends...”

Tears formed in Melissa’s eyes, but she wasn’t about to let Jacob see how scared she was to admit those words aloud. She hadn’t even truly come out to Jacob and she was feeling entirely overwhelmed at the prospect. Jacob wasn’t phased, rather he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him. He rubbed her arm gently as he spoke, “I know, Melissa... I know.”

Link to Chapter 6

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore

[cactus-cuddler]

Chapter 2: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝?

Series' masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Word count: 1,5 k

Summary: you and Bucky said your goodbyes and you faced a grueling night shift. However, the next morning your now favorite customer returns.

Warnings: drunk men * men who touch you without your consent * Simply... warnings are men

Tag list: @mcira @robynanthonystark @sofiaavarga13

(if you want to be added write to me)

ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ <3

You're in bed after an exhausting night. After Bucky left, the bar gradually filled up completely, both inside and outside. Both you and Megan worked those hours; alone, it would have been impossible. While you were working, some men took the liberty of touching you without permission, and you can still feel their touch imprinted on your skin. You hate this job more and more, and knowing that you have to return in a few hours doesn't console you at all.

The next morning, Bucky was already there at opening time. He helped you set up the bar by bringing out the tables and chairs, then positioned himself in the same spot while you washed the counter.

“Same drink?” you ask him, and he shakes his head.

“What’s the point if you don't let me get drunk?” he chuckles. “I'd like a coffee,” he adds. With a smile, you prepare it for him.

“How many glasses do you need to get drunk?” you ask curiously. A normal person would be drunk after just two glasses of your strongest drink, but Bucky, even after five, simply felt more vulnerable.

“Too many,” he replies, focusing his gaze on your sweet face.

As the bar gradually fills with people wanting breakfast, you serve everyone with a smile. Bucky watches your every move intently, and under his gaze, you feel embarrassed, wishing he would leave and come back when the place isn’t so full. You know the skirt of your uniform moves too much, and you’re afraid Bucky might turn out to be like the other pigs who frequent the bar. Yet, you want to trust him. As soon as there are no more customers to serve, you return to Bucky.

“Isn’t working in a uniform like this suicide?” your favorite customer asks, and you nod. He understands. He knows what drunk men do to cute girls like you at the bar.

“But I know how to defend myself,” you tell him with a wink. He raises an eyebrow, unconvinced.

“This bar, and you, need a bodyguard, don’t you?” he suggests.

“You’re kidding. No, I don’t need one!” you laugh at his words. He seems too serious, so when the next day your employer announces Bucky as the bar’s bodyguard for night shifts, you’re left speechless.

“You’re crazy,” you tell him with a smile during your morning shift, him sitting in the same place and you behind the counter.

“But now you won’t have to be afraid anymore,” he replies. He’s completely right. With someone to defend you from other men, you feel safer and the job seems less burdensome. You place your warm hand on top of his.

“Thank you very much,” you say sincerely, offering him a coffee and a brioche. Although he isn’t crazy about sweets, he decides to eat it to avoid hurting your feelings and shares it with you. He feeds you a piece because your hands are dirty with soap, and seeing you get dirty with chocolate cream makes him smile, a cute smile that will remain imprinted in your mind.

Today, Bucky stayed less, and during your second shift, he only stopped by to say hello before you saw each other again at night. He’s dressed in a tight black t-shirt, revealing his vibranium arm, with the bar's logo, and simple sweatpants. When you saw him, you were transfixed by his irresistible charm. He greets you and Megan, who wonders if having a bodyguard will make shifts calmer, without men touching you inappropriately.

“Good evening, stud,” Megan says in her usual flirtatious tone, which for some reason bothers you. He returns the greeting with a wave.

“Do you prefer me to position myself inside or outside?” he asks, his hoarse voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Stand at the door and keep an eye on both inside and outside,” Megan replies. You agree, so you don’t say anything else. Before starting your shift, you and Megan usually share a chocolate bar. Today she brought it, gave you your share, and then went to the counter, leaving you alone with Bucky for a few minutes.

“It’s our custom,” you tell him, showing your piece of chocolate with a smile.

“A lucky charm?” he asks, and you nod, breaking your part in two and giving him a piece, which he accepts with thanks.

“Luck will be needed by those who watch you,” he says, and you blush, giggling. You hold up the piece of chocolate as if to toast and then eat while looking at each other. Your gaze focuses on him as he swallows, showing his Adam's apple.

You let him go, and he positions himself at the door, watching both inside and outside without losing sight of you.

“That man is crazy about you,” Megan whispers in your ear while eating her chocolate. You blush and shake your head.

“He’s just grateful because I didn’t let him get drunk,” you reply and then take table six’s order. Megan doesn’t say anything else and goes back to serving her regular customers, flirting for tips.

You take a tray, place the drinks on it, and head towards the table with your usual smile. You see Bucky’s eyes on you and give him a reassuring smile. That table starts whistling as you approach, and your smile fades.

“Is your number included with the drinks?” someone asks. You ignore it and serve the drinks as quickly as possible. One guy puts his hand on your thigh, and before he can go further, Bucky is behind you.

“Having a nice evening?” Bucky asks in his deep voice.

“We wanted to have fun with this little doll,” the customer replies, tightening his grip on your thigh.

Your bodyguard pulls you close, making the guy's hand slip away. Your back is against Bucky's chest. You feel his chest rise and fall with his breath, his scent filling your nostrils. You think you’re about to faint.

“Go to the counter and don’t move,” he whispers in your ear. Blushing, you do as he asks and prepare the other orders. From there, you see Bucky still talking to that table when one of them stands up and punches him in the face. Bucky remains unfazed, touching his lip where you see a small wound. He then walks away, leaving the drunkards behind. “It was a pleasure talking to you too,” you hear him say as he walks away.

“How are you?” he asks you.

“You’re the one with the bloody lip,” you giggle, wetting a washcloth to dab his wound.

“Why didn’t you hit him back?” you ask.

“My job is to protect you, not kill anyone,” he answers. “Trust me, if I wanted to, I could kill him right now,” he adds, and you smile. He got punched just for you. Before returning to his station, he asks if you’re okay and if you need anything. How can a man be so thoughtful after only a few days of knowing each other?

The rest of the evening goes peacefully. No one else dares approach you after seeing Bucky protect you. With that arm, it’s not a problem for him to send someone straight to the afterlife. You’ve never had such a peaceful and pleasant evening. Men limit themselves to compliments, women ask for Bucky’s name, but you (for some reason) pretend not to know him. Megan can’t help but notice the connection between you.

When closing time comes, your colleague leaves in a hurry. You change into something more comfortable for walking at night. You thought Bucky was already gone, but he’s waiting for you at the door.

“I’ll walk you home,” he says. It’s not a polite question but an order. But you don’t mind.

“Has anyone ever gone further?” he asks, walking next to you. You nod, shivering at the memory of certain creeps.

“Luckily, they never got too far. I have many precautions,” you assure him. He had already imagined scenarios of you being abused, but knowing they didn’t succeed makes him feel better.

When you arrive at your house, you notice his lip has worsened. You force him to come upstairs and sit on the armchair while you fetch the first aid kit. You carefully disinfect the wound. He feels a bit of pain but tries not to show it to maintain his mysterious demeanor. You put a band-aid on him, and he thanks you for your kindness.

“Thanks to you. I’ve been working at that bar for months, and today was the first time I didn’t feel in danger at every table I served,” you confess. You accompany him to the exit with regret, suggesting he stay over since it’s late, but he flatly refuses. Before he leaves, you kiss his cheek to say goodnight.

“Goodnight, pretty girl,” he answered and giggling you slowly closed the door. Now every time you hear "pretty girl" you can't help but think of Bucky.

Outside your door, he touches his cheek where your lips had been, and the memory makes him blush and a smile appears on his lips.

Thanks for reading! If there is something you want to tell me about it feel free to tell me. I would also like what you think and how you would like it to continue <3

I remember that if you want to be added to the tag list, just write to me or a comment here or in messages (it's also good as an excuse to talk, I love meeting new people knowing that we have common interests!♡)

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