#directing a fight they were not able to finish and are no longer able to wage themselves

[brachylagus-fandom]

I am rotating the concept of supervisors in my mind like a spherical cow

[nemesyaaa]

a long way from the playground // rafe cameron x reader

summary ; when you met rafe on the playground of the school, he was such a crybaby but you were there for him as his most beloved (and unique) friend until that accident which happened in high school.

seven years after that argument, you met him again. and mostly, seven years after, the crybaby that you know became the big boy that everyone knows.

genre ; childhood bestfriends to strangers to lovers (literally my favorite trope of the world), slight of angst, fluff, and smut. he fell first (and alone at first lmfao...)but she fell harder trope. one-shot.

warnings ; argument, family issues, mentions of cheating, smut, miscommunication, mentions of anger issues, fear of abandonment/being alone, jealousy, first time/virginity, past/present, violence ?( reader slapping rafe), being pogue/kook is not a big deal, mentions of rafe's mother.

author's note : it's 4k. was inspired by eighteen by one direction and to build a home by the cinematic orchestra. trying myself on something soft and kinda angst (but more in a bittersweet way.)

rafe was not always being the big boy everyone knew. it had taken seven years between the two of you for him to become stronger and more mature. when you met him, he was a whiny little boy who loved to fight, but cried every time you treated his wounds. you always managed to make him smile when you placed a bandage on the bleeding bruise and promised him that if he calmed down, the injury would disappear.

you started being there for him from the moment you were just seven years old.you understood that rafe needed someone in his life, because no one was there for him. you never understood why, but people loved to say, even the teacher and his family that there was something weird about him.

you heard the others spreading rumors about it a couple times. it was so easy to criticize others rather than judge yourself. at that moment, rafe didn't scare anyone. it was not because he had the prestigious cameron name that it made his classmates fear him.

he was like everyone else, there was no kook or pogue. everyone was too young to be different, the prey could be anyone in the group, but the leader always remained the same.

the first time you and rafe cameron were really close was on mother's day. the whole class had been assigned to make a gift and in the most saddest way possible, everyone had a mother to give their present to. everyone except Rafe, but you didn't know about that before the accident.

having finished making your own gift, you surprised your friend from behind and he dropped his vase on the ground. you had never felt so sad in your entire life when you saw the broken glass on the floor. you could clearly feel your heart cracking in your ribcage, your veins freezing, and your breath dying in your throat, the hot rush of tears inside your eyes.

"rafe, i'm really sorry. I...really, I didn't mean to..."

“it’s okay, y/n. I didn’t have anyone to give it to anyway...”

his voice cracked slightly in his knotted throat as he managed to not show you how hurt he was. he was trying to be strong, and not a crybaby — that nickname that you given him every time. and his eyes had become so full and wet with tears, the blue ocean of his eyes drowning in the hot little boy whines.

rafe cameron was a broken child, not just since you broke his vase. no, always. since he no longer had his mother. and you realized it in such a cruel way that you wanted to disappear.

he had so many tears, and you felt like they could flow down his cheeks forever, that even an eternity wouldn't be enough to wipe them away. and even if you had been a siren, you would never have been able to swim in water as salty as his present sadness.

"my mother...left me..." he admitted softly between sniffles, his nose red and leaky.

you felt bad but you took him against you in a tender hug, and placed your hand on his back to start caressing him gently, until he was soothed. "but you have me. and i will not leave. you know rafe, when i love someone, it's serious. i sincerely would like to make sure that you never feel alone again."

you looked into his eyes. you couldn't be more sincere.

and maybe it was from that day that rafe cameron fell in love with you, and he had never felt so good because he never thought that love could be so heartwarming and kind.

if you thought he would be the type to hide his feelings, or run away from them, you were wrong. it was the first time he felt this comfort, this happiness and he needed to show it to you. even for his family he did not have such great affection.

he loved giving you gifts. he had seen and heard that the girls really liked those kind of things so every day since Mother's Day, you received flowers, boxes of chocolates, photos of yourself accompanied by notes, volumes of your favorite book saga, CD's of your favorite singers. rafe couldn't let go of you.

since you didn't love him back, he fed on the affection and attention you gave him.

rafe took everything you had to give him - a look, a smile, a kiss on the cheek, a hug, an earphone for the two of you to share, a day in your room watching movies, a ride on the bike of your big brother, an afternoon playing in the sea.

there was nothing strange about him, nothing like the rumors could say.

“rafe, you didn’t have to give me that.” you exclaimed when you saw a necklace with his initials.

“but I wanted to. Don’t you like it?”

"I love..."

Rafe would have loved to hear that you were talking about him saying those words but he was also so impatient. every boy his age had a girlfriend, and he wanted you to be his. he was not an exception to the eager youth.

what was the point of being rich, of being able to have everything if you weren't included among his treasures? he wanted you, his only friend and the only girl who mattered to him.

But also, he was lost because he was experiencing one-sided love, because above all, it hurt so much not to be loved in return, to be in love with someone to love them to a point where it mattered more than himself.

the first time you kissed rafe cameron on the lips was in high school. you were drunk, you hadn't done it on purpose.

you threw up right after, but he never blamed you. he knew it was the alcohol, not him. he even held your hair while you vomited everything into the bowl. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I..."

"I'm not mad. you're just drinking too much. I should have been more careful. you know i can't be angry with you."

yes, rafe had anger issues, serious problems managing his hard feelings. sometimes he even scared you. sometimes you even felt like he would be able to kill someone.

rafe’s hands could be deadly but whenever they were on you, pressed to your cheeks, against your hips, on your thighs, inside your hair, on your neck, they were always calm and gentle.

after that, you would never have guessed that the first time rafe cameron had touched himself, it was thinking about your lips on his mouth, something so small and pathetic but it was enough to make him so vulnerable and unable to think about anything else.

he imagined your pretty lips around his cock instead of his useless large hand, your wet open mouth pumping him as your tongue covered every inch of his growing girth. and he hated himself for having impure thoughts about you, because you looked like an angel. he had no desire to make you dirty but oh fuck — he had cum on his stomach, spurting the warm loads painting his flesh. and god he wished you were there to make him pure again.

after that, rafe had tried many times to get you out of his head. he thought of porn. but he imagined your body, your voice, your moans in place of all these actresses, and that was the only way he could come.

dating girls but it never worked. you were always the one he wanted out of all the ones that existed.

distance from you but he always came back, because without you it had always been like being in the dark. and how could he lives in darkness without the one who gave him light?

but above all, you were the one who understood him best, who always managed to soothe him, and above all who never judged him in his moments of weakness.

you were his home, where he took refuge when he had a problem with his father, when he could no longer stand Sarah's presence, when Rose was getting on his nerves, when Topper and Kelce were behaving like idiots. because you were the only person who couldn't make his existence even more shitty.

— now it's been over ten years since rafe cameron was in love with you, but only seven since you disappeared from his life.

you had another life now, a boyfriend who cheated on you and who was always angry with you, and pushing you under and under. you were stuck with the wrong guy.

you had always dreamed of being an artist, you had specialized in painting in college hoping to pursue your dream.

rafe had always accompanied you in that dream, volunteering as a model for all your portraits but you always ended up throwing all the drawings away because you were too perfectionist. for you, it was never good enough. but for your best friend, it was a masterpiece, the work of a true painter.

you drew in your spare time, but each time, you ended up drawing rafe's face. you had no idea why he was your only inspiration even though you had a boyfriend, why it was always him who motivated you to continue painting.

it was strange how rafe had made a huge impact in your life, the only boy you actually had.

— a year later, on a huge impulse, you offered your art to a museum that regularly held exhibitions. you had made arrangements with the director and tried to find rafe's contact two nights after.

you searched for his social media, last names in the directory, asked his friends but nothing had helped you. you had spent a week trying to find it but it felt like you had lost him forever, that it was like a flower that you should have cherished instead of letting it perish.

you had been a monster. you abandoned him...like his mother. like everyone else.

every time you thought about him, you always ended up crying. if it wasn't love because you were sure you didn't love him, why did it hurt so much? why did it kill you so much?

rafe had never been capable of hurting you, and yet you had stabbed him without even looking at him. you had let him give you his heart, and you had stepped on it. and maybe that was why he couldn't fall in love anymore because you had ruined all his chances of being with someone else.

rafe had confessed his feelings to you while you were in his room, talking about everything and nothing, the future and the past like children. he had grown up. he was no longer the little whiny child you had known but a big boy, the one who now had big arms to protect you, hands to dry your tears, body to warm you.

“i feel like you want to tell me something, big boy. so say it, don't make me wait or beg for it.” you teased him by stopping the movie you were watching under the blankets.

"If you weren't so blind and stupid, I wouldn't have to be so embarrassed. i really have to do all the work all the time. "

“Come on, confess it. Do you want me to close my eyes?”

“ close that eyes, and shut that mouth too. ” he nodded, and the minute you closed your eyes, his mouth found yours to kiss you.

“what does that mean?”

“are you being stupid on purpose?” he replied. "It wasn't a mistake for me in the club...I mean, I really liked it like now. Don't make me say it, y/n. "

you were embarrassed. you didn't like rafe. finally you loved him like a best friend. he had always been the friend you dreamed of, not the one you wanted to end up with.

In contrast, rafe always believed that a girl could never break his heart. but you had shown him today that he was wrong, because you had managed to hurt his feelings, to make them so depressing.

you had this control on him that he had exactly over everyone else.

"Am I still the crybaby I was to you? I've changed. "

"that has nothing to do with it. rafe, you can't love someone and think that they will love you back. love doesn't work like that, and sometimes it doesn't even work. "

“you love someone else, right?” his tone was now louder, becoming more aggressive.

"I...n-n..."

"you love someone? who is it? tell me who it is? or don't tell me, I'll find out eventually. do you think that guy deserves you more than me ? "

“rafe, you’re scaring me. don’t yell at me.”

"why? you have the right to reject me but I don't have the right to raise my voice with you... let me laugh...since you like joking with me now.” there was a sick smile on his face that you hated, and made you shake.

"Rafe, I'm not rejecting you..."

“oh, y/n, please don’t lie to me. you’ve never been a hypocrite, so don’t be one now. don't be mean sweetheart because i would die rather than hurting you. just admit that you have someone, that you like playing with my feelings. do you think you're superior to me ? well, don't forget that i'm the only guy that give you attention so you're not that special. i made you special.”

"you win, rafe cameron. congratulations. i'm leaving."

you stood up towards the door but he rushed toward you and blocked your way.

“rafe. move.”

"asking like that? oh no, sweetheart. I've seen you be nicer than that, so you're going to give me the pleasure of asking me with better words."

“don’t make me push you. ”

he laughed so hard that your ego had been hurt. "because you think i'm still the weak, whiny cameron from the past that you used to manipulate ? tskk tskk, wrong. it's over. i hold the power in the relationship now. "

“rafe, I don’t want us to argue.”

“ oh yea ? so why do you want to leave? give me just one good reason at least !”

“you have to let me go.”

"and if I refuse? ah yes, I forgot, my family probably loves you more than me so they will surely come and help you if you cry or scream. so, please, show me how much my family hates and doesn't care about me. ”

you felt the sadness in his voice despite the loud tone, and the condescension.

"you can't leave. what kind of girl are you? the kind who likes to break hearts?”

it was your turn to be mad at rafe so you slapped him. louder than you expected because his face had turned against the door, and a red bruise had marked his skin. you regretted your action but you didn't apologize. because rafe had to learn to respect you.

" excuse me ? I was always there for you, when you were in pain, when you were angry with the whole world, when your father was so cruel to you that I had nightmares because I was afraid that will be the reason i will lost you one day, when you were crying, when you were fighting, I was there when there was absolutely no one for you, I was there when you were the little boy that no one wanted. You have absolutely no right to blame me for anything and consider this slap at the end of my sentence because I will not apologize. I have always been nice to you. so don't make me regret this. so yes, well done rafe, you managed to ruin everything. I'm sorry that you are in love with me and unfortunately I don't have this feelings for you, but now you lost me, and all the chances you had for us to end up together so you can sequester me here if you want, but know that even if I stayed in this room until the end of my days, I would still have no feelings for you, not a fucking single one. “

he was angry, his nostrils were flaring, and his fists were clenched against his thighs. you only had to see the swelling of his veins around his temples and around his neck to feel that it was literally boiling inside his body.

"you haven't changed. you've just grown. you'll cry when my back is turned.”

— back in the present, you wore a pretty dress to your art exhibition. you chose "blue eyes" as a subject with multiple paintings representing Rafe's gaze in different expressions. you had even managed to capture his look when he was in love with you.

so, you hoped that this evening he would come, that he had accepted your invitation, that your letter had arrived safely at its destination. you had received so many compliments but none had made you happy, none had managed to really make you smile, even those from your boyfriend who you had found in the hallway kissing someone else.

you didn't even cry because you knew it. it was just more horrible to see him in real life because he looked so happy.

“get out of here.” you reacted without even shouting.

“baby wait, I can explain everything….”

"explain what to me? your explanations are stuffed in this girl's mouth right now."

"I'm not going to leave." he replied.

“ oh yes you will leave. and if I see a single tear on her face, surely not alive. but yea, dare you to stay.” a cold voice growled and warned behind your back that you recognized it by heart.

you turned to admire rafe who stood in front of you, still just as handsome, and above all taller. you wanted to be a pure and shed tears just to see your ex-boyfriend suffer but you were too busy rejoicing in rafe's presence.

“Who are you?” your ex-boyfriend replied.

"oh if I told you, I think it would break your heart but you don't seem to have one so I'll be honest. I'm definitely the only boy she likes. i'm sorry if she made you think that she has something for you. but believe me, will be nothing contrary to what i will do to you if your ass is still here in those free seconds i let you run.. "

“raf…”

he shushed you with his mouth. "You'll have your moment, but wait. this is a conversation for boys, and unless you're hiding a dick between your legs, you're not in."

you smiled at his stupidity. the two boys had gone out, and Rafe had returned a few minutes later.

“Oh my god, you didn’t cry,” you teased him gently about his whiny past, clapping your hands.

“Was I crying that much?”

“Like a baby.”

"but I have changed...and..."

you felt like the words were really struggling to come out. his voice was blocked and he didn't look you in the eye. he scratched the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I was totally stupid."

“apology accepted.”

“does that mean I have the right to a kiss?”

When you were little, you always gave Rafe a kiss on the cheek when he apologized. the memory made you smile tenderly.

you stood on your tiptoes to reach his lips with your mouth, and he lifted you by your ass to help you.

“you were always mine, baby. even when you left, even when he was here.”

“ because it’s as much to love you as to hate you, rafe cameron.”

“Is that why you dedicated this entire exhibition to me? I’m flattered.”

“you didn’t leave my head even though you left my life.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you either. and I still think of you now. "

“ah yes? and what do your thoughts say about me?”

"that I finally have the girl I've always waited for. and that I still want her just as much."

"How about you show me how much...I mean...not with your lips, big boy. It's time to show me how much you've grown.”

you had gone to his hotel room after the party. he had accompanied you during the rest of the event, never taking his eyes off you as if he was afraid of losing you again. he even felt himself tighten his arm around your waist. he didn't keep his hands in his pocket, because you were there. and above all that you finally loved him.

it was beautiful. you had been the first person rafe cameron had loved, the first person he had broken his heart, and also, the first person who had loved him. you were destined to each others.

in his room, you were surprised to see how gentle he was with you, that he had softly placed your body on his sheets like a princess. he took off his t-shirt and you salivated just seeing his muscular chest, his arms turned into huge biceps, his flat stomach turned into voluminous abs with a magnificent v-line. “ It seems like you worked hard to please me. ”

“ oh babe, don't waste your drool on yourself when you can literally splash it on my dick. but maybe my girl wanted it dry”

“ you're really big now. ”

“ wait, something bigger is coming at you. ”

you were in love with the way your boy had become a man. you were proud of him, you undid his belt, and pulled him by the leather of the accessory before sliding it down and wrapping it around his neck to push him towards you and kiss him again. rafe was so desperate for you, he was hard in his pants to the point where it was painful, and even his tongue against yours was lost in a messy burst of both of you saliva.

he had spread your legs, and removed his pants, before pulling you against him by the thighs to bring you back against his hips.

“spit.” he held out his hand to let you spit on his palm and coated his hard cock with your drool, using your saliva as some kind of lube.

he started touching himself quickly, slowing up and down, a tight grip around his veiny and rocking length. you placed your fingers against his to accompany him in his movements, while devouring him with your eyes.

“fuck, you’re too good for me.”

“so make me as bad as you.” you responded by separating the two lips of your cunt with your fingers to show him the way. “fuck me. now.”

“did you have sex with him?”

“no…” you admitted shyly. “I’m still a virgin. Does that bother you?”

“I’ve already had sex, does that bother you?”

"no, because I'm sure you've never been able to cum without thinking about me. You're so obsessed with me.”

he pushed his leaking and wet tip against your soaked folds, rubbing himself lightly on them. “can I ?”

“oh rafe, it's only if you don’t do it that we’re going to have a problem.” you laughed gently.

and it didn't take more for him to split your pussy with his throbbing dick to startly making his way inside you. he had done it gently, partly because he didn't want to hurt you, but because you were incredibly tight. he held your hands, before placing his lips on yours, and driving you crazy with slow thrusts, his hips gently bucking against yours.

his cock stretched you softly, moving back and forth and sliding inside your canal that surrounded every inch of his dick. once he felt your body relax, he fasted up the pace, your moans automatically becoming louder. you had never been fucked until now, but you understood now, why people liked it.

rafe was completely buried in you from his tip, to the pelvis which was slamming against your thighs and the mattress. he couldn’t be more in love with you. you were perfect.

he loved hearing your screams from across the room, knowing that he was the only one to make you moans like that. you were completely wet, and your dripping pussy helped him pound you quicker, and especially harder. he couldn't get enough of your face completely ruined by tears and pleasure, but especially of your walls squishing him until he felt his own stomach twitching by your trembling body sticking to his, the way your part convulsing around him as the strokes went deeper and deeper.

the bottom lip of your mouth was covered in your own saliva, your back arched against the sheets, and your entire body stimulated, spasms covering it, and forcing you to squirm in every direction.

his blue eyes were lost in your gaze. you didn’t know how but he always managed to go further, hitting every sensitive gummy and soaked spot only to ram it again.

you let out a muffled and depraved sound when his cock slammed into your insides all the way to your stomach. you threw your head back, completely losing control.

“I'm never going to stop and you never going to leave if you keep giving me those eyes. don't feel dizzy now, it's just the beginning. ” he blurted out as he continued to pound you, making your pussy dripping even more all over him, leaving him no choice but to speed up his movements to avoid any waste of your fluids. “ i really want to fuck you all the night. don't make that face, you made me wait for more than fucking ten years, it's just now so fair. ”

you had already had an orgasm, but his energy had doubled. you didn't know what time you stopped, but when you woke up, you were completely exhausted like your body had been used all night.

you wondered how different your relationship was going to be now, and if rafe was going to take responsibility for everything he did last night. you had too many questions, and not enough answers. you took a shower while waiting for him to wake up.

when you finally had the chance to have the famous conversation, you asked him. “do you regret it?”

"that you didn't let me do this way before? yes. for doing it last night? no. another question, babe?"

"yes. well, it's not a question. I don't really know how long I've loved you. I mean, you know the day you fell in love with me. whereas I realized that when I didn't stop painting your face I thought it was your absence but it was stronger than that. when we were young, we were dumb and clumsy. but thank you to let me come back because we finally found the right moment."

“you know very well that you never had to ask for anything to get everything you want from me. all is yours. ”

— tysm for reading 🫶🏿‼️

[moni-logues]

What the cat dragged in

Pairing: Lee Know x reader (afab, she/her)

Genre: smut, angst, strangers-to-lovers (kinda); 5+1

Summary: You followed Minho home because you had nowhere else to go. Then you kept following... all the way into his heart, but not his bed.

aka five times you and Minho don't fuck and one time you do.

Content: reader is 16yo in the first section (nothing sexual or romantic happens but there are suggestions of it), couple of references to human/sex trafficking; the gang are useless crime idiots but this is only barely relevant; interrupted foreplay; attempted car sex; unprotected piv sex; fingering; a lot of kissing tbh

Word count: 13.5k

A/N: SO this whole thing actually started HERE in JUNE (jfc, I thought I'd been thinking about this since like, October or something but, no no, a full ten months!!!!). It has drifted from that somewhat but that was its beginning and, honestly, I'm kind of stoked about this fic. I really like how it came out and it's my FIRST MINHO. It's taken me SO long to get around to my bestest evil catdad.

Huge thanks to @violetsiren90 for beta-ing! and also for reading it half-finished when I really needed some encouragment. AND for the title

*~*~*

FIRST 

“Why don’t you fuck off?” 

The voice came from behind you. It was low and cold and threatening. It was directed at Shindong, the man in front of you, whom you were sure was this close to offering to take you home. You whipped around to see who had uttered it. 

Your immediate thought was that he was too short and too slight to be walking up with that level of aggression. Your second thought was interrupted by the spark that shot up your arm when he grabbed your hand. You’d have pulled it back, but his grip was solid and your arm didn’t budge.  

“What the fuck do you want, Minho?” your companion replied, all the charm sliding off his face, replaced with a loathing, arrogant sneer.  

“I want you to fuck off.” 

“She yours? Might want to keep a closer eye on her; she was just about to come home with me.” 

The stranger’s hand squeezed yours, so hard it started to hurt. He offered nothing in response.  

Both men continued to stare at each other. Shindong had inches on Minho – both height and breadth – and you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw him hesitating. He flicked his eyes between you and Minho.  

“What if I want to fight you for her?” 

“What if I told you she’s not legal?” 

Shindong hesitated, moved just a fraction backwards, no longer leaning in, looming over the two of you. He rolled his eyes and gave a heartless chuckle. 

“Not worth the fucking bother,” he muttered as he walked away.  

Minho, still a stranger to you, still holding your hand, who hadn’t even looked your way, pulled you sharply by said hand, storming off and taking you with him. You followed him into one of the warehouse’s many dark corners. He kicked out the couple who were two clothing items shy of a citation for public indecency, and only then did he let you go. Only then did he turn his dark, flaming eyes on you. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked.  

Shindong had been your lifeline. What did this guy think he was playing at? 

Your vehemence took him off-guard, surprise flashing across his face, until his scowl returned, worse than before. You understood now why he made Shindong hesitate. His gaze was fierce, penetrating, his jaw set, his mouth a taut, grim line. You would never show your hand to anyone, but a cold droplet of fear slithered down your spine. You straightened it, rolled your shoulders back, lifted your head. You wouldn’t let him intimidate you. 

“Do you know him?” he asked, voice still low, still threatening. 

Not personally. Not until that evening. But people like him came with a reputation that preceded them. A reputation that you were relying upon being based in fact. A reputation that had spread all around your school and beyond, but that you had heard from a source close to the truth. It was close enough that you were able to find him here, in a part of town you’d never been to. It was close enough that you were able to pick Shindong out from this crowd. Close enough that when you approached him and he laughed at you – young, naïve, foolish, all of those things you were sure he thought – you were able to drop his cousin’s name and he suddenly took you seriously. That was what you had been hoping for. A connection was all you needed to keep you covered for a night, at least. Just one would be something. 

And then this guy showed up. 

“I was about to.” 

Minho’s top lip curled, just a fraction, his nose barely wrinkling with the movement, but you got his meaning. Disgust. He could be as disgusted as he liked; that wasn’t your problem. Your problem was that his disgust had led him to chase away your only lead.  

Or was he? Was Shindong your only option? 

You changed tack. Realised that maybe you had another now. Minho, whoever the fuck he was, had approached you as if he knew you and scared off the competition. That must have been it. Despite the way he glowered at you, absolutely no interest or desire lurking behind his dark eyes, you figured you had nothing left to lose.  

You relaxed a little, pouted your lips, played up to the damsel in distress he might have thought you were. 

“But if he’s so awful, I guess I can only thank you,” you said, making your voice soft, your eyes a little wider. You lifted your lips in a tiny, shy smile and then put a hand to them, your thumb and index finger tugging a little on your bottom lip, hoping it made you look small, nervous, sweet.  

He gave you no reaction. He continued to glare, his stance unchanged, unmoving. So you moved. You stepped towards him: shy, little bird steps, until you were so close that he moved backwards. 

“Thanks for looking out for me. Your name’s Minho, right?” 

His eyes tightened minutely. He didn’t reply.  

“I’d like to thank you properly,” you said, sliding your body into his, pressing just one finger against his chest. You fluttered your lashes up at him. 

His face changed immediately. Eyes wide, mouth dropping, and he was stumbling backwards, pressing himself against the wall. 

“What the fuck are you doing? What are you, fifteen?” 

Embarrassment licked your cheeks like flames and your scowl returned. 

“I’m sixteen!” 

“Wow, big age. My mistake. By all means, let’s fuck, Sixteen.” 

His sarcasm was biting but you hadn’t given yourself up yet. 

“Don’t you want to?” you asked, innocently. “You must have sent Shindong away for a reason. If not this, then what?” 

He let out a sigh so aggrieved it was almost a shout. He rolled his eyes.  

“Jesus Christ, where are your parents?” he asked, but it was muttered, almost under his breath and you didn’t know if you were supposed to answer. You did anyway. 

“Dead.” 

His lack of reaction grated. He didn’t flinch. There was no surprise, no guilt on his face. He had robbed you of Shindong and now he had robbed you of your fun: getting a reaction out of people as a poor, orphaned, little Annie was as close as you got these days. Then again, he wasn’t a well-meaning aunt or nosy teacher. He knew what this place was; he knew, or at least knew of, Shindong. Maybe your hand-grenade was, here, little more than a snap. 

“And this is your great life plan? Offering sexual favours to predators?”  

He gestured widely to the room behind you, and you could only assume he did not mean to include himself in that group.  

Actually, it was your plan. Kind of… Insofar as you had any sort of plan at all. You would not be telling him that. You kept your mouth shut tight and jaw clenched, refusing to look down, to be the one to break the eye contact.  

“You know he’s a fucking bad guy,” he said, more softly than he had said anything so far but the hard edge remained.  

“And what are you, my hero?” 

“Absolutely fucking not. I do not want to have anything to do with whatever mess you are making of your life, but I’m not about to let that cunt take off with a child.” 

“I am not a child!” you shouted, right in his face.  

He took it, impassive, unimpressed even.  

“That’s exactly what a child would say.” 

You wanted to hit him. You wanted to smash him in his beautifully sharp jaw, or break that perfect, delicate nose of his. You were just about not stupid enough to try. How did he even know you were young? You knew you didn’t look it; you were always getting told you looked older than you were. How did he know? Why did he care? 

“Go on then,” you said, darkly. “Leave. If I’m not your fucking problem, why don’t you fuck off?” 

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t move.  

“Worried I’ll get murdered?”  

You lifted your hands to your open mouth, eyes widened, a mockery of fear.  

His face and tone were flat when he responded.  

“There are things worse than death.” 

Then he pushed past you and out of the door.  

You took one shaky breath and walked after him before you could talk yourself out of it. You decided that, one way or another, this guy owed you and it was time to collect. 

You followed him, not too closely, but not exactly hiding it, for over a mile. You wondered, at one point, if he was trying to lose you, if he was actually heading to his destination or just trying to outlast you. You’d show him. You were a long-distance runner at school; you were extremely confident you could keep up. 

So confident, in fact, so determined were you not to lose him, that you were too slow to notice him slowing, to notice him stopping, to very nearly not stop yourself walking into him.  

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, not turning to look at you. 

“I’m walking here.” 

“Stop following me.” 

“I’m not following you.” 

He raised his eyes skyward. He stood for a moment and you stood, too, waiting for him to continue – walking or talking, you didn’t know which. He finally turned around and looked at you, everything about him a little softer than before. Not soft, but softer.  

“You can’t follow me,” he told you slowly, emphatically. “I am not looking after you. I am not your fath-“ 

“I don’t have a fucking father.” 

He scoffed. 

“Yeah, that much is very clear, Sixteen.” 

“I’m not sixteen!” 

He frowned. 

“That’s what you told me.” 

“That’s not my fucking name! Stop saying it like I’m a child. How old are you anyway?” 

“Old enough to know better.”  

“What does that mean?” 

“Go home, Sixteen.” 

“I don’t have a home.” 

“Well you can’t have mine.” 

He turned on his heel and continued walking, a little faster this time, increasing his pace to a jog as he crossed the road. You knew he hoped you wouldn’t be able to follow, that the flashing green man would disappear before you could make it, but you’d been underestimated before.  

After another mile or so, you saw him take his phone from his pocket and put it to his ear. You couldn’t quite hear what he was saying but you thought it sounded like Japanese. Was he Japanese?  

It hadn’t missed you, the knowledge that you had no knowledge of this man. You understood that you were, as far as you knew, in as much danger following him home as you had been going with Shindong. But you literally had no other options. It was follow this guy somewhere or wander around on the street all night; it was too cold to stay out. You hadn’t thought beyond that when you’d left your house earlier that day. Hadn’t thought much at all, except about getting out.  

Now you were out. Mission accomplished. And you had no idea what to do next.  

You almost missed him ducking into a narrow side street, but you caught the door he rushed through just before it shut. He disappeared from view through another door, off to the left of the dingy, dimly lit corridor you found yourself in. You stalked up to it – it wasn’t even fully closed – but something made you hesitate.  

Suddenly the fear that you had been suppressing all night raised its head. Was this a lion’s den? A serpents’ nest? Was Minho playing some kind of long game, saving you from Shindong so you would trust him, so you would follow him here, so he could…? 

“Are you going to fucking stand out there all night?” you heard a voice call from inside. It had to be Minho’s but you wouldn’t have bet on it.  

You fixed your face, your scowl reappearing, and kicked the door open with excessive force. 

It was just a bar. Just him, sitting on a stool with a beer in his hand, and one other guy, standing opposite, looking at you with his eyebrows raised in the way a parent does when they catch their child doing something naughty. 

“You break that door, I’m going to make you pay for it,” he said, in an accent that you knew wasn’t local.  

And, just like a defiant child, you slammed it shut without breaking eye contact. He turned to Minho. 

“Thanks, man. You had to bring home a fucking streetrat.” 

“I am not a streetrat,” you spat. 

“No?” Minho chimed in. “Then where’s your home?” 

“Fuck off.” 

“I really wish you would.” 

You sat down in a booth just off to your left and stared him down.  

“She can’t stay here,” the stranger said to Minho, as if you were no longer there.  

“I didn’t bring her; she just came.” 

He, the newest stranger, looked between you and Minho for several seconds. He was looking at Minho when he spoke again. 

“One night. That’s it. And she’s your responsibility.”  

He heaved a box full of empty glass bottles into his arms and wandered away, through a different door, mumbling something about ‘strays’.  

“Who was that?” you demanded as Minho continued to sip at his beer.  

You realised that you hadn’t actually been introduced to him either. And he hadn’t asked for your name. You wondered if he would now. 

“None of your fucking business,” he answered, finally moving from the stool to walk behind the bar.  

He opened the cash register and took bags from a cubby just below it. He produced a tiny pencil from his pocket and tore off a strip of the receipt roll. He took out the cash and started to count. You watched his lips move silently as he flicked quickly through the notes, pausing to drop a stack onto the bar and write a number down. He picked up the next stack and repeated.  

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, not looking up, not even, apparently, pausing in his counting. “Even if you got your urchin mitts on it, you wouldn’t make it to the door.” 

You believed him, but you weren’t planning some kind of move. You didn’t need his money. You were just watching.  

You watched until all the notes and all the coins were accounted for, until they had been put into bags and those bags into a box and Minho turned to follow his friend. You stood from your seat and went after him.   

There were two doors, you realised. Minho took the left. It led to an office. The other guy must’ve taken the right because the room was empty except for furniture and, in the corner, a safe. Minho dumped the box before it and turned to you. 

“Turn around.” 

“Worried I’ll crack the code?” you asked with your eyes rolling back in your head. 

“Just turn around.” 

You did as you were told without a fight because, at that point, there was nowhere else to go. You couldn’t admit defeat and walk out of there; you weren’t sure that Minho wouldn’t make you do just that. It was a knife-edge, being the obnoxious, vile brat that you were. You’d stormed past boundaries before but, well, look where it got you. You were tired and worried enough now to decide you would stop pushing your luck. It had been stretched far enough already. 

There was a second of silence before you heard the beeping of the buttons pressed and the shuffling of bags, the clink of coins, the thunk of a bigger, metallic something against the walls of the safe. He didn’t tell you when he was finished, didn’t say you could turn back around. He just walked past you, out of the office, turning the light off as he went. As soon as you were out of the door, he shut and locked it.  

You followed him back to the bar and he did the same thing: turned off the lights and held a door for you (not politely, not because he was being nice), following you through it and locking this one behind him, too. You walked to the end of the corridor and he gestured you down some wooden stairs that creaked as if they would break under your weight. He turned the corridor light off, too, and locked the door at the top of the steps.  

This was it. You were locked in. There were at least two locks between you and escape. When Minho shoved past you to the left and opened yet another door, your stomach sank a little further. Three locked doors. He didn’t hold this one for you but he didn’t slam it in your face either, so you rolled your shoulders back, put on your game face and walked through.  

You almost regretted it when you saw where it led. It was possibly the worst place you had ever seen. It wasn’t messy, but there was something dirty about the room anyway. Outdoor furniture inside; everything vaguely brown in a way that you didn’t think it had been fresh out of the box; everything tired and worn and sagging; the naked lightbulb dim and humming as it shone; the fridge, scratched and dented and shoved into a corner, also hummed, managing to sound as well as look tired. It was bleak. It was grey. It made you feel like things were crawling on you and you’d only just stepped foot in it.  

You half expected your feet to stick to the floor when you took a few steps forward. They didn’t but the carpet was so old and worn that you had no idea what colour it was originally; in places, you could see the floorboards clearly through the threads. 

Minho pointed to the sofa.  

“There,” was all he said.  

Then he disappeared out of the room. You gingerly sat on the edge, wondering if you should be more concerned about your health or your safety. Maybe you were sheltered here, but you pictured a thousand and one diseases squirming on the cushions. It wasn’t fair to, because you could see that it was cleaned. The room wasn’t filthy; there were no crumbs or water rings on the coffee table; there was no rubbish littering the floor; the sink was empty and a stack of plates and bowls stood beside it, washed if not yet dried. Minho was clearly diligent.  

Minho and whoever else lived here. There were too many doors leading off this room for him to be here alone.  

Your curiosity was stopped in its tracks when he reappeared with a pillow and a towel. He threw the pillow wordlessly at one end of the sofa and then he raised the towel a little. 

“I don’t have any blankets. Don’t get cold.” 

You scoffed a laugh and were grateful that he ignored it. You weren’t indignant; you weren’t being a brat this time. You were dismayed. You couldn’t believe it. A house with no spare blankets. You were going to sleep under a towel. You glanced around you for a final time, tears pricking in your eyes, fingers at your lips, picking nervously. You weren’t going to die here, you told yourself. Probably. You were probably not going to die here and that was all you needed.  

You stood up, turned off the light, tested the door handle (not sure if you wanted it to be locked or unlocked), then returned to the sofa. You took off your shoes, took your bag from your back and hugged it tightly to your chest. You lay in the dark, in a stranger’s horrible house, alone, tired, more vulnerable than you would ever admit. You cried silently, reluctantly grateful for the towel, until you fell asleep.   

SECOND 

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to everyone! Happy birthday to you!” 

You only got one birthday a year. The whole group of you. There wasn’t enough to stretch to everyone getting an individual birthday, an individual cake, a day off. So the middle day of the year, 2nd July, was chosen and you all had a birthday together.  

One cake, one candle each, six people blowing them out. Most unsanitary, but, by now, there wasn’t much you hadn’t shared so a little spit didn’t even register.  

You were too drunk by far, which was stupid really. It wasn’t even your first time drinking legally (because your real birthday wasn’t until later in the year), so there was no reason for you to behave as if you had never had a drink before. You should have learnt a little self-control.  

But it was your birthdays. So you kept having one more and one more and one more. As did everyone else.  

“Nineteen!” Minho called as he fell into the booth next to you.  

“I thought I was Sixteen?” 

He shrugged. 

“You do still act like it.” 

You shoved him, almost hard enough to push him off his seat completely. He shoved you back. 

“Shut up, Minnie.” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, plotting death for using the nickname he loathed above all others, and you sent a simpering smile back at him.  

“You’re a little squirt, anyone ever tell you that?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“You, literally all the time, because you are for some reason desperate to sound like the oldest grandpa in the room.” 

He let out a growling sort of cry, dramatic because he’d also had too much to drink. Then he stood. 

“BYE, Sixteen!” 

If someone didn’t know the two of you, it would seem as if nothing had changed in the time since you met: both antagonistic, unlikable, as hard as you could make yourselves, forced together and barely tolerating it.  

Those who did know you, however, knew that things were very different now. Minho had, reluctantly, taken responsibility for you and, when you had grown up just enough to realise what that had meant, you felt all your hard resolve melt.  

They had very little, this ragtag bunch of kids (barely older than you) but they shared everything between them. Never quite enough to go around, money from legitimate enterprises never stretching far enough and having to be supported by money from less than legitimate means. You were a liability. In every sense. The only girl, a stranger, certainly not (at that time) a criminal. But Minho took responsibility and the others let you in.  

When you had learnt to see past your own nose, you saw the myriad ways in which they took care of each other. The silent, invisible way Minho cared for his friends. For you. You hadn’t forgotten the sting of electricity you’d felt when he held your hand way back when. Before you’d even seen him, before you knew his name, before any of this. You felt it all the time now. You were a live wire for him.  

No one in the group was stupid enough to refer to you as siblings or even joke that you acted like them. Your feelings for Minho were your most closely guarded secret but that didn’t mean everyone didn’t know. You were pretty sure even Minho himself knew. Not that he would ever act on it. He pretended not to notice, you thought. You had pushed close to the edge of being kicked out enough times to know that some things were still precarious. To know that he would never risk his weird family by acknowledging there was anything more than friendship between you. If it even was between you. He had given you very little reason to believe your feelings were reciprocated. So you did your best to ignore them.  

They became a fact of life. Like the fact that Minho was the only one Chan trusted to count the cash (not because the others weren’t trustworthy; they just weren’t accurate). Like the fact that Chan had the final say on everything. Like the fact that he would never abuse that authority and act for anything other than the wellbeing of the entire group. It just was.  

And it wasn’t like you were stupid enough to pine. You had some pride. Plenty, in fact.  

You stood from the booth and sauntered to the bar where your sometime-boyfriend, Johnny, was getting another drink.  

“Babe,” you whined, draping yourself over his back, hooking your chin over his shoulder.  

“Babe,” he whined back, copying, mocking.  

“Entertain me, I’m bored.” 

“It’s your party.”  

You pouted and forced him to join you on the makeshift dancefloor. You refused to notice that Minho left it as soon as you joined, his face dropping, looking only at Johnny and never once pleased about it.  

* 

Chan had cut off the booze supply hours ago and the sun was thinking about raising its head above the horizon, which meant that, far from being wasted and happy and giddy and passing out in your bed, your hangover was already crawling in and you were tired and irritable. Johnny had pissed you off sometime before the booze dried up and then pissed off entirely before you’d begun to sober up, so you’d spent the smallest hours of the morning making your bad mood everyone else’s problem.  

Everyone except Minho. Because whilst you were always determined, at these moments, to needle him, to want to get under his skin, to want to scrape it back and spit on it, he was never there. He managed to avoid your venom and, even when he didn’t, seemed immune. He would just slow-blink at you as if he were looking through you and turn away. It boiled your blood and he knew it.  

You stomped downstairs to the same shithole basement you’d walked into two years ago. Everyone else had either left or gone to bed already, you thought. You expected it to be empty. It wasn’t. 

“Fuck sake, Mouse,” you spat, using your usual nickname, his preferred one (… preferred being too strong a term; it was the one he allowed you to use without retaliation). “Why are you sitting on your own like a fucking loser?” 

“You know he treats you like a fucking loser?” 

He turned to lean over the back of the sofa, looking tired under his eyes but energetic within them.  

“Fuck off,” you returned. “As if you give a shit who I date.” 

“Date? That’s what you call it?” He scoffed, deliberately, exaggeratedly, as if you wouldn’t otherwise have recognised his scorn. “He treats you like dirt.” 

“You would know.”  

He was on his feet and in front of you before you could blink.  

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”  

You’d had about enough of it, you decided at that moment. Not enough sleep, too much alcohol, and just enough of this bullshit. You grabbed the front of his T-shirt and pulled him with force towards you. You took him by the back of the neck and kissed him, hard and like you meant it. Because you did. It only took him a second to push you back, hands firm on your shoulders, holding you away from him. His face had lost his usual mask – the blank, passive, flat-eyed one that he used to stare people out with unnatural stillness – but he was still keeping you out; it was guarded, flashes in his eyes being stamped out with every blink, his jaw held tight and his mouth shut.  

“That’s what I fucking mean, Minho,” you hissed.  

“How dare you?” he hissed back, voice so low in his throat you almost couldn’t hear it. “You have no fucking idea.”  

His blinks weren’t quick enough this time to hide all the anger burning in his eyes.  

“No idea of what? What?!” 

His lip curled and he let you go. He let his guard down around you more than he should have: shrugged you off and turned his back on you. You took both palms and pushed him. He tumbled forward, catching his foot on a side table, pulling it down with him as he hit the floor. Cat-like in his reflexes, he was on his feet before the table had stopped rocking. He charged straight at you and continued until you were pressed up against the door, until he was pressed up against you.  

“You want a kiss?” he asked and every part of you should have been screaming yes, because you did.  

You did want a kiss, but nothing about this was how you wanted it. It was a threat, not an offer. You’d been threatened with worse. You jutted your chin out a little, always standing up, never backing down. 

“You going to give me one?” 

His eyes flicked towards your lips, hovered there a second, like he was really thinking about it. They stayed there a little longer and doubt was picking up speed on its race to your consciousness. You thought he wouldn’t. You thought he would. You still couldn’t predict his behaviour. You thought you had him pinned and then he flipped you. You always thought you had him on the ropes, but you never really did.  

You were impatient, tiring of this, doubt and insecurity and embarrassment swelling up inside you and you opened your mouth to tell him to go away, to fuck off and die, to do something vile to himself. It was at that moment that his eyes met yours again, for a split second that sent a streak of ice through your blood, and then his mouth was on yours.  

You had never once looked a gift horse in the mouth, but even if you had wanted to, even if you had decided before he did it that you would push him off, return his rejection, you couldn’t possibly have done it now. His lips were soft, his hands still tight around your arms. He crowded you further against the door, your bodies pressing together as he swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, asking for entry. You gave it to him. Your hands snaked up his chest and into his hair; it was softer than you’d expected, silky. For a moment, you were disarmed by it. Soft. He never let his softness show if he could help it. Only rarely. Only when he felt safe enough to let his guard down did it ever come creeping out from its hiding place. But here it was, sprouting from the top of his head. Here it was, pressed against your lips, brushing your tongue. You felt weak at the knees. 

As far as kisses go, it was the best you’d had. Fire and ice fighting: goosebumps erupting on your skin as it flushed hot, making you shiver. His mouth was warm and wet and sweet and you were desperate for more, knowing that he was kissing you just right and that you weren’t doing the same. You were too eager, too greedy, too needy. This wouldn’t be enough. Couldn’t be enough. Just his lips on yours, his tongue rolling with yours, his hands still pinning your sides. You couldn’t stop here. You had to have him. All.  

You whined when he pulled back, when his grip on you loosened, and you opened your eyes expecting his to be soft and liquid, to be those sweet, round boba eyes he didn’t show enough of.  

They were hard and flat. He moved away from you in one, long step and back was that impassive blankness he loved so much. 

“Happy fucking birthday,” he said. 

He stalked off to his bedroom and shut the door.  

You stayed, glued to the front door, shaking. With anger, probably. With embarrassment, maybe. With something akin to heartbreak, but you would never admit it. The roaring in your ears, the screaming of invective at both yourself and Minho in your head so loud that you didn’t hear the sound of a key in the lock, weren’t aware that someone was trying to get in until they were shoving at the door, pushing you with it. 

“What the fuck?” came a quiet whine from the other side of it as he slowly pushed you away and got the door open. “Why were you trying to keep me out?” 

Jisung’s hamster cheeks were full of kimbap, the other half of the roll still in his hand, and his eyes were wide with that cute, pitiful look he carried off so perfectly. 

You ignored him. You stomped into your bedroom and slammed the door as hard as you could. 

THIRD 

Despite having your own bedroom (graciously offered up by Changbin and very ungraciously accepted by you), privacy in the small basement flat was an issue. Which is why you were huddled in the farthest corner of it, fists stuffed in your mouth, crying as quietly as you could in the dead of night.  

You lived with five men, but you had not yet found someone to date who would take the threat of them seriously. They did make threats, on occasion, when they had to. Because you had not yet found a man who could treat you as anything more than shit but you had, apparently, found the least bothered and most unfazed men in the city. The one before last had barely flinched when all five of them had battered down his door to come for you, when you had finally managed to get a message out that he was keeping you there.  

You never found out what happened to him. You didn’t ask and no one told you.  

This one hadn’t been that bad. That was the problem. You had thought he was nice. You had thought (as you had so many times before) that he might actually be the first to treat you right.  

You were wrong. So, you were crying in the corner of your room. You didn’t always cry. In fact, you didn’t often cry. Rarely, even. It meant that, when you did, the floodgates opened and you found it hard to stop. You found it almost impossible to breathe, desperately snatching air between sobs. Your head was already pounding, your face aching. It was total and complete the way it overtook you. So much so that you didn’t notice the presence of another person until they sat down beside you. 

You gasped, as much as you could amongst your shaking, shallow breaths, and were only slightly comforted that it was him. He said nothing. He pulled you towards him and held you like that until the storm had passed. 

You continued to sit in silence as your tears dried on your face, as your heartrate settled and your breathing became even. He didn’t make a move to let you go and you didn’t make one either. You were tired. You were sad. You were, though you wouldn’t admit it, a little bit heartbroken. This bit of comfort was exactly what you wanted.  

You didn’t want him to say anything. You didn’t want to hear it. That you’d done it again. That you’d never learn. That, somehow, you were gullible and easy to fool despite the fact that you had been hardening yourself against vulnerability of every kind since you were a child. That men just found a way to get beyond your defences—that bad men found a way. The good ones didn’t find you at all.  

“His loss,” was what he said. 

You lifted your head, tears still clinging to your lashes, drying on your cheeks. He had that look on his face that he saved for you: the soft, sweet one he gave you when you’d earnt it or when you needed it. The one that made your insides curdle, that even now made your heart skip a beat, that you wanted to fall into forever, that had sealed your fate so many years ago now. He blinked slowly at you, cat-like as always, and brushed your hair from your face.  

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came. Your voice was trapped in your throat because he was still looking at you like that but his eyes kept flicking down, then back up, then down again at longer and longer intervals until he closed them completely and brought his lips to yours.  

You didn’t have to think twice. Didn’t have to think at all. Your body did the thinking for you. Your hands pushed into his hair and your legs pushed you up so you could slot them down either side of his hips. His hands found your waist and then the soft skin on the other side of your t-shirt. 

This was nothing like the first time. You remembered it all too well: the electricity, the anger, the volcano of feelings you’d tried to suppress rumbling and threatening to erupt, to blow the lid off the equilibrium you’d found. The hunger, the desperation, your own neediness spoiling it all.  

You weren’t desperate anymore, for his approval, for his love, for whatever he would give you. You wanted it all, would lay yourself on the floor and kiss his feet if he asked, with no hesitation, but you always knew he wouldn’t ask. You’d got used to that.  

Except now he was kissing you – he had kissed you – and his hands were squeezing at your waist and it was slow. Controlled. Deliberate. There was nothing accidental about the way his tongue rolled over yours, the way his teeth bit at your bottom lip, the way his hands pulled you lower on his lap, pulled you closer to him until there wasn’t so much as a breath of air between you.  

“Mouse,” you murmured, quietly into his mouth. 

He shook his head minutely, a tiny hum swallowed by you when he pressed your lips together again. No talking. Fine. You didn’t need to talk. If he kept kissing you, kept touching you, you wouldn’t need to utter another word again. But you couldn’t stop the little gasp when he sank his teeth into the sensitive skin of your neck, the moan rising in your throat when he ran his tongue over the same spot, hurting then soothing. Like always. 

It made your brain turn fuzzy, static wavering in your mind, as all your conscious thoughts turned to liquid, melting into Minho’s mouth, swallowed down by him, eaten whole.  

Then the front door slammed hard. 

“Guys!” Chan shouted, in a way that he never did.  

You heard him pounding on doors, opening them, starting with Changbin and Hyunjin’s on the right.  

You sprang apart like two north magnets, instinctively repelled by one another, just in time for Chan to burst through the door and scan the room for you, too wired, too stressed to register that it might have been weird for you to be sitting on the floor like you were, certainly not noticing your kiss-bitten lips or heavy breathing or the way Minho’s hair was ruffled like it had just had a fist in it.  

“We’ve got to go,” Chan announced. “Like, right fucking now.” 

FOURTH 

No one wanted to up the ante. No one wanted to start getting involved with the organised crime lot. Your crime was… disorganised. It was local. It was just you doing the things you needed to, skirting around the law to survive. It wasn’t really crime, not if you squinted hard enough. Then the police raided the bar (which was illegal in pretty much every way that mattered) and you had nowhere left to go.  

There was just enough of the trust your parents left you (which you got access to at 21) to secure a new apartment (one that was not underground) and a small buy-in with a group of much larger, older, more experienced criminals. There was very little else you could’ve done at that point. Or so you all told yourselves.  

The apartment was an upgrade in every way but size. It was newer and above-ground which meant it stayed warm and didn’t get damp. It had windows which let the sun in. It had enough room for two sofas so everyone could sit comfortably. It had a gas hob which really only Chan and Minho cared about, but they cared a lot. It had two bathrooms with reliably hot water and good pressure. It did not get power cuts. It did not always smell musty. It was not brown and beige and grey. But it did have fewer rooms to be parcelled out between you all.  

The last one had four rooms that served as bedrooms. This had three. Between six. There had been furious arguments and endless straw-pulling and no one was happy with the results. It took a few weeks but eventually things shook out as they always should have.  

You shared with Minho because he was the only one who was willing. You both had reputations for being scary (in totally opposite ways: you the raging bull to his still, fathomless water); you loved to take your bad moods out on one another; he was the only one you ever willingly let see you when you were sad and small and vulnerable. Besides which, no one else would dare try to take the space at your side from him. So you shared a bedroom: two twin beds on opposite sides of the room, because Minho refused to sleep in a bunk bed and you refused to sleep together in a double. There was little room for anything else.  

You complained about the sleeping arrangements almost daily. You loved the hot water and the sunlight and the not-mouldiness of the apartment, but some days, you couldn’t bear the way you couldn’t get away from Minho.  

You’d thought you had it bad. This was even worse. 

Four days. Four days, so far, staying (squatting) in a vile, empty, dilapidated villa apartment, staring out of a window, waiting for something to happen. Just you and Minho and one room. For four days and counting.  

It was Minho’s turn to watch and he sat at the monitor, diligent, hard-working, as always, whilst you were supposed to be catching up on sleep. Instead, you were lying on what passed for a bed, tossing an apple into the air and catching it, over and over and- 

“You going to stop that?” Minho asked, with his trademark tone: both light and threatening.  

“Nope!” 

“Want me to make you?” 

You flicked your eyes over to him: he was studying the monitor seriously, but you were sure he had been looking at you.  

You hadn’t spoken about that night. Partly because you hadn’t had the time. You’d jumped up from the floor of your bedroom, grabbed as much stuff as you could fit in the first bag you could find and the six of you had legged it, making it out just in time to watch the police cars roll up and trash the place.  

“There was so much fucking money in that safe,” Chan had said, plaintively, staring at the sky. That was when you’d offered up yours.  

You had had to find somewhere to live, and fast. You’d all had to find jobs, something to do, some way to make money that wasn’t connected to the bar. You had been passing like ships in the night, meeting only to argue about shower time and sleeping arrangements. Then Changbin had come home with a suggestion. You’d argued about that, too, but in the end, it was unanimous. Go in with the bigger boys or – well, there was no ‘or’. That was the point. 

So you and Minho were working recon. You’d pulled the short straw in more ways than one. It was the longest you had spent together. Ever. Confined for days in this space. 

On the first day, he refused to talk to you at all.  

On the second, you made everything into an argument because at least you could get a rise out of him.  

On the third, he had seemed to thaw. Something had softened and you talked, like friends, like you used to. You laughed and joked and it wasn’t so bad. 

Now it was the fourth day and that ice had returned. He had frozen over, doubled-down on silence. No sooner had you had warmed up than he was giving you frostbite, chilblains. Whiplash. Those ten words were the first he’d spoken to you all day.  

“No,” you answered. “I don’t want you to make me.”  

You paused, wondering if the words you were considering were a sign that you were going mad, that being cooped up in this space had sent you a little doolally. The unbearable nothingness of your days passing like sludge forcing all those hidden thoughts forward, with nothing to distract you from them. The words were certainly risky, but Minho had shown his hand. He had kissed you. Like he meant it. And you knew he would’ve continued to kiss you had Chan not interrupted. He’d have continued to do a whole lot more than just kiss you. 

And you were bored.  

“I want you to fuck me,” you said plainly, catching the apple in front of your face and turning to look at him.  

He was still studying the monitor. Nothing on his face gave anything away: surprise, disgust, lust, laughter. Nothing. You were used to that. 

“We’re on a job.”  

“Yeah, and it’s boring and nothing is happening and who fucking cares? I would rather have sex.” 

He sighed and rolled his head to look at you. 

“Really, Sixteen? Now is the time you want to bring this up?” 

“Stop calling me Sixteen.” 

“I always call you Sixteen.” 

“You always call me Sixteen when you want to put me in my place or make me feel like a child. I’m not a fucking child anymore.” 

“I know you aren’t.” 

“Then why won’t you fuck me?” 

He laughed and your blood began to simmer.  

“There’s more that I look for than just ‘is not a child’.” 

“Don’t try to act like you don’t want to.” 

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to.” 

“Well then, shall we?” 

He smirked and the glint in his eye was new to you.  

“We’re on a job.” 

“Stop saying that!” you cried, stalking the three steps from your side of the room to his.  

You manoeuvred yourself into his lap, blocking the monitor from his view, and took his face in your hands. 

“We’re on a job and nothing is happening and nothing will continue to happen for ages yet, so why don’t we make it a little less fucking boring?” 

You knew he wanted to. Could see his pupils dilate. Watched his eyes flick to your lips and your chest and back up. This might have been all he wanted: sex and nothing more. You didn’t know. Weren’t interested in having that conversation. Were convinced that it didn’t matter either way. If he only wanted sex, you would give it. Give it until it was too late and he was in too deep to come back out. Hadn’t worked before but there was a first time for everything. 

But even that was beside the point. You were desperately bored and bored of being desperate for him and there was one stone that would kill both those birds.  

“Mouse,” you said quietly, keeping your voice low, as you placed a kiss on his jaw, as you spread your knees a little wider, sinking lower into his lap. “Come on.” 

His hands were on your thighs, neither encouraging nor discouraging, just holding tight. He didn’t respond as you continued to press kisses to his face, to his neck, grinding your hips over him slowly. You could feel his pulse beat fast, noticed the way his breathing was getting heavier, his fingers dipping deeper into your skin, until it hurt. Until he stopped pretending he was going to continue to work, stopped pretending that he could resist you.  

“Fuck,” he gasped, his voice hoarse. 

He gripped the hair at the back of your head and pulled you from his neck, tumbling you both to the floor. You didn’t want it to be fast, but you’d take it any way he’d give it. So when his hands pulled at your t-shirt, you let him take it off as you unclasped your bra. He didn’t give you time to fumble with the hem of his top, to discard it for him; he dipped his head straight down, swirling your nipple with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth; he rested his weight on one elbow and his other hand descended. You were grateful you had no buttons, no zips to contend with, just the loose, elasticated band of a pair of leggings that had seen better days. Minho’s fingers slipped beneath it and he circled his fingers around your clit, the fabric of your underwear dulling the sensation only slightly.  

This was moving even faster than you’d expected but you’d been waiting so long already. Blood rushed to the surface of your skin and your breath began to shudder. Underwear now pushed to the side, you gasped when Minho ran a finger through your folds, shivered when he moaned at what he found there. He brought his lips back to yours but you turned away to let his name drop from your open mouth. 

“Mouse...” 

“Shut up,” he said firmly as he sank two fingers into your slick cunt and stole your breath with another kiss.  

You couldn’t talk but you could moan. Could whine. Could whimper as his fingers moved inside you, as he ground his palm against your clit, as he made your thighs twitch and walls spasm. You tried not to lose your mind completely, to stay grounded, to stay present now that this was finally, really, actually happening. You reached your own hands down to Minho’s trousers; he hadn’t got the no-buttons, no-zips memo and your fingers fumbled with both. They shook with adrenalin as you popped the button through the hole and dragged the metal zip down. You pushed them away from you, off his hips, and had one hand in his boxers when the crackle of the walkie-talkie cut through Minho’s moan. 

You both froze.  

“Minho? What’s happening? Chan said they’re on the move?” 

You glanced at each other, for one more frozen second, and then the world lurched into overdrive. Minho clambered to the monitor with his trousers around his ankles and, as soon as he saw the screen, started swearing viciously, tugging at his clothes and throwing your t-shirt back at you.  

“What’s happening?” you asked, breathless for all the wrong reasons now.  

“They’re clearing out,” Minho reported into the walkie-talkie, ignoring you but answering your question anyway. “Two loads have left, a third on its way.” 

“Shit! How did you miss it? What the fuck were you doing?”  

“Nothing! We lost the feed for a minute but it came back quickly and then they were already moving.” 

He shot you a glance, something between panicked plea and angry admonishment. It wasn’t often he was caught on the hop, wasn’t ever. You, however, were used to being on the wrong side of things, so you re-dressed quickly and had already started packing your shit up. No matter how sideways this went, you could take two positives from it. One, you wouldn’t have to stay locked up here with Minho any longer. Two, he definitely, definitely wanted to fuck you. 

FIFTH 

You still hadn’t talked about it. You continued to share a bedroom, sleep there every night, wake there every morning but you had not once discussed the twice now that you had almost had sex. You were waiting for him to bring it up, even though you knew he never would. He wasn’t a coward, not ever, but if there was one word to describe him it was loyal and you knew he would protect your group with his life. And that also meant not pursuing whatever it was that was between you. Because it was a risk. It could jeopardise the stability of what you had established—what Chan had established long before you ever came into the picture.  

But you were digging your heels in this time. You’d already come on too strong. Your pride was being wounded with each day that passed, with each day that he continued to pass you up. You’d crack first. You knew you would. You always did. Minho was unbreakable. You weren’t. But you wanted to pretend, for at least a little while, that you could be. That you could be impenetrable, too.  

* 

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” Junho repeated as he slammed into the car, instructing Minho to drive before the door was even shut.  

Minho didn’t need telling twice.  

“Where to?” 

“Safe house,” he gasped, ragged breathing setting your teeth on edge. 

You didn’t ask what had happened. What had gone wrong. That didn’t matter as much as getting out. Getting Junho out. You were disposable, still. You knew that. Even Minho. You were runts; you also still had something to make up for given what happened on your last assignment. So you travelled in silence. Junho in the back, breathing heavily; you didn’t turn around to see if he was ok. You didn’t want to know. You assumed he wasn’t but as long as you could hear him breathing, you knew he was alive.  

Minho was facing forward, eyes scanning the roads ahead, reflexes allowing him to run red lights without accident – in this part of the city, no one would stop a flashy car like this for speeding, for driving recklessly. That was what they all did. His jaw was tense, eyes tight. He looked calm but you could see his little legs kicking under the water. You knew him well enough by now.  

You didn’t keep your eyes on the road. You kept them on him. Felt like someone needed to be watching out for him, too – not that there was anything you could have done to be helpful anyway. There were always two in the getaway car. That was the rule and you didn’t ask why because you didn’t want to know the answer.  

As a teen, you had thought you knew everything. You were old enough now to know not only that you knew nothing but also that you preferred it that way. Need to know basis. For everything. All the time.  

Minho slowed, driving more carefully as the car left the city, winding across hills, negotiating turns that you’d have driven straight over, plummeting you all to a miserable death. He turned the headlights off at the mile marker he’d been told about, one that you’d already forgotten, and crawled, slower still, up to the house, blanketed in darkness, hidden by an overgrown and untended garden.  

Junho grunted. 

“Thanks. Wait until I give the signal then get the fuck out of here. Do not go anywhere you’ve ever met with us. Ditch the car when you can; destroy the plates.” 

He didn’t wait for a response. You watched him stagger away and then waited until the light in the top right room flicked on and off and on and off again.  

Minho put the car in reverse and slowly backed out. At a further mile marker, he turned the lights on. He continued to climb, driving away from the city still, until the car reached the top of the hill. The lights from the city were so bright you almost didn’t need the headlights at all. It didn’t feel a safe place to stop. Too visible.  

Then Minho slowly and quietly backed the car into nook on the hillside. No doubt worn away from years of cars trying to pass each other on the narrow road, it barely contained the car, but it put it in some shadow and no one would hit you.  

He turned the engine off and let his hands fall to his lap. His head tipped back against the headrest and he sighed.  

“You ok?” 

You asked him all the time and he never gave a serious answer because he always was. And if he wasn’t, he certainly wasn’t going to talk about it. But you asked all the same.  

He nodded then turned to you. 

“You?” 

You laughed nervously, suddenly feeling the last twenty minutes as the adrenalin began to drain. 

“Kind of feel like I could hurl.” 

He laughed too and nodded again.  

“I feel like I want to sleep for a thousand years but also like I could run a marathon,” you continued.  

“I feel half-dead already but also fucking invincible.” 

He held his hand out and it trembled. You clasped it between yours and held it tight. He smiled; from where you were sitting, it looked like a smirk, but then he turned more fully towards you and it wasn’t. It was sweet. His eyes were gleaming. Your mouth dried.  

“Half-dead, huh?” And you knew you were going to say it. You always knew you would be the one with which it would raise its head. “How about a little dead? A little death, even?” 

“Sixteen…” 

His voice had that warning tone to it but the gleam in his eyes remained and you’d broken the seal now. Were going to push this as far as he’d let you.  

“Mouse…” 

You saw him waver. Absolutely, definitely, were certain that he was considering it. Until a car came over the crest of the hill and its headlights flashed in at you; at the same moment, Minho’s phone buzzed from the cup holder it had been thrown in. You jumped. He jumped. Whatever moment there had been was gone now.  

Minho took his hand from your grasp and checked his phone. Then he put the car in gear.  

“We’ve got to get out of here.” 

* 

You expected it to be quick. Expected it to be simple. It turned out to be neither. You had managed to destroy the plates and were very near clear of the car you’d now abandoned when you, once again, found trouble (‘why did it always have to be you?’ you had asked yourself fleetingly as Minho shoved you towards your own piece of shit car that had been waiting for your getaway; he had not waited for you to be fully seated or your door to be closed before he slammed a foot on the accelerator and squealed off). The two of you were screaming around corners, tearing out of the city in whichever direction provided the easiest escape. With the headlights off and the city lights streaming into the distance, you could barely see the road in front of you, had no idea how Minho was still driving straight. You trusted him with your life and it was just as well, because it was in his hands. His, yours, and potentially everyone else’s, too. 

The summer sun was minutes away from popping its head above the horizon when you were finally able to return home. 

You sat in silence for a few moments. You had moved beyond exhaustion into this kind of frayed, wired alertness. You felt your eyelids dropping even as your heart still hammered. Minho’s hand found yours.  

“Mouse,” you said, letting the rest of it fall away unspoken.  

“Yeah,” he replied but you didn’t know if that was his answer. “Just give me a minute.” 

You were too tired to argue so you let silence fall again. You were almost dropping off, head just beginning to nod, when he tugged on your hand.  

“Come here.”  

You turned. You leant. His other hand cupped the back of your head and pulled you closer. He kissed you. Electricity crackled and a surge of energy rushed through you. It was happening again. He was kissing you. You couldn’t let this time pass by.  

You scrambled in your chair, forgetting to undo your seatbelt, being pulled back by it and swearing coarsely when your lips broke from his. You clambered over the gearstick and the handbrake and fell with one foot heavily in the footwell as Minho slid his seat all the way back. You didn’t have time to care about the jarring in your knee or the bump on your head as it hit the roof. Could barely feel it. Didn’t matter.  

Well, it didn’t matter until it did. Until there wasn’t really room enough for you to straddle him. Until you were pressing yourself up against the roof so there would be room for him to get his hands to his belt. Until you lost your balance and fell backwards, landing with bump on the steering wheel, which blared out into the dark dawn street.  

“Fucking hell,” Minho muttered. “Get in the back.” 

More willingly than you ever had, you did as you were told. He moved his seat forward again, all the way, and you watched him climb through to you, hands reaching for him. It was no less awkward. Not enough room to lie down. Still not enough height to sit. Not space enough between the back and front to kneel. It was messy and uncoordinated, grabbing for anything, taking what you could get, knocking into the window and falling off the seat, kicking and elbowing each other in a tangle.  

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Minho roared, in an uncharacteristic display of frustration. “No use. Not happening.” 

He sat back and sighed, trousers undone but still around his hips. He pushed his hands through his hair and you tried to settle demurely next to him, smoothing your own hair, zipping up your jeans, swallowing hard as you fought to accept that he was right. It was not happening. Not here. Not now.  

You stared through the car window and were sure you could’ve punched straight through it. You wanted to. It was the window, Minho, or yourself. Couldn’t effectively punch yourself. Knew you wouldn’t dare hit your mouse. Your fingernails pressed sharply into your palm as you squeezed your fists tightly.  

A hand covered yours. Gentle. You looked at Minho and there he was: your secret, soft guy. You unfurled your fingers and he linked them with his own. 

“Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s just go home.” 

FIRST 

You tramped into the apartment, bringing your bad mood with you. Everyone was sick of it by now – you were sick of it, but you couldn’t shake it.  

Minho was avoiding you. That much was clear. He had been avoiding you since you tried and failed to fuck in the car. You didn’t know why because you didn’t care. You had reached the end of your tether with the universe. Three times now. But still no cigar. You wondered – asked yourself a hundred times a day – what it was going to take to make this happen.  

Frustrated didn’t even begin to cover it. You could go out and hook up with whoever you liked. You could get yourself off just fine. But it ran so much deeper than that. If you pulled at the thread, it tugged on your heartstrings, all tangled up in knots. It hurt. It pulled at something so deeply interwoven with your very being; all anyone had to do was follow it to its source and they could destroy you. All anyone had to do was cut it and they’d cut you, too.  

You didn’t like that. Hated it, in fact. Hated that all this tugging and wiggling had opened up a hole and you could feel your vulnerability exposed. You could feel weakness leaking out of you, seeping from your pores, visible to the naked eye, for anyone to see.  

It made you bitter. Made you angry. Made you lash out even when you shouldn’t have. Because you were always on the defensive. Even now. Especially now. 

You knew the others were talking about you. About Minho. About the two of you. Knew it from the awkward silences when you walked in a room and the furtive glances and the group chat that had grown curiously quiet, leaving you to assume that there was a separate one you weren’t a part of.  

You were beginning to lose your patience and you were not starting with a plentiful supply.  

You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm your rage. You had woken with it, just like every other day this week, and it would not leave you. You breathed slowly and carefully and tried to think of difficult and boring things.  

You thought only of Minho.  

Then he opened the door. He hesitated – you could feel him standing there, assessing – and then shut it, leaving you alone. As the door clicked, you felt that tug. You felt the knots tighten, so impossibly tight now that the joins weren’t even visible. You jumped up and threw yourself through the door. 

“Stop fucking ignoring me!” 

You hadn’t meant to shout.  

Minho turned and looked at you. His stillness enraged you further. He didn’t say anything. 

“Are you going to fucking say anything?!” 

“What do you want me to say?” 

“ANYTHING! You haven’t spoken to me for weeks! You literally walk out of rooms if I’m in them! What the fuck is wrong with you?”  

“You think this is easy?”  

His voice was cold and sharp as steel. His head cocked lightly to the side and his eyes narrowed, peering at you, looking inside you.  

“You think I want it to be like this?-” 

“I don’t know what you fucking want!” 

His nostrils flared. This delighted you. He was annoyed and you loved it. 

“Not once,” you continued, still shouting because you couldn’t rein it in, “have you ever fucking told me. Not once have you ever actually said what you want! That you want me. Do you? Fucking do you? Because I don’t fucking know anymore! Every time we get close, you get further away from me! I’m not a fucking yo-yo, Minho. You can’t play with me-” 

“Play with you? You think I’m playing? What part of this is a game?”  

His voice was rising now, too, his perfectly blank mask slipping. 

“It’s never been a game, Sixteen! Not once in the entire time since we met has it been a game! How are you still not getting it? Junho almost fucking died and if he had, it would have been our fault! We all almost ended up in prison because of the fucking bar. The night we met you almost got yourself trafficked! It’s not a game! You act like life is so fucking simple! It’s not!” 

“IT IS! It can be that fucking simple! Stop overthinking! Stop taking everything so fucking seriously!-” 

“It is serious! That’s what you don’t get!” 

He was close now, had been inching closer and closer, and he was looking down at you, his eyes black as pitch, his jaw tight, his breath struggling through clenched teeth.  

“You don’t get it and you never have.”  

His voice was quiet, back to that steel that sent a chill down your spine.  

“Everywhere you go, I look out for you. Everywhere you are, I am responsible for you. It’s been nine fucking years, Sixteen, and you are everywhere I go.” 

Your vision tunnelled, stomach fell to your feet. You had to look away and hated yourself for it. You never flinched. You never backed down. You were never the first to retreat. Except for him. You couldn’t bear to look in his eyes, to see what loathing and disdain they held for you. Your embarrassment was on your cheeks already and pricking in your eyes.  

Then his nose nudged yours and he took more steps forward. He pushed you slowly against the wall and you cursed yourself for retreating to it. 

“You are in my life and in my bedroom and in my fucking head,” he whispered. “All the time. All the fucking time. And I haven’t been able to do shit about it because you are my job. You are mine to protect. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows I would burn this place to the ground for you. I would scorch the earth. I would drain the sea. For you. Don’t you get it? When it comes to you, I’m a fucking liability.”  

You risked it. A glance. Lifted your eyes for less than a second but you had to do it again. Had to stop there, be sure you were really seeing what you thought you were.  

Soft, round, liquid eyes. An openness in his face that he hadn’t let you into before. His mouth was still a grim line, turned down at the corners so slightly, had it been anyone but you, it would have gone unnoticed.  

“Mouse...”  

You tried to whisper but could barely manage that, his name creeping out on a hoarse gasp.  

He moved his face closer to yours, lips almost touching.  

“Don’t you get it?” he repeated.  

You got it. Because everything he said was true for you, too. You’d started out as a liability, for sure, but you had continued to be one because Minho was your north star. Not Chan. Not the group. Not whatever sense of purpose you might have derived from the life you had cobbled together. If he said jump, you wouldn’t ask a thing. You would jump. You’d been following him since day one and, then, it might have been desperation, a lack of options. Now... well, there was still desperation: a desperate need for him, a desperate desire to be wanted by him, kissed by him, touched by him. You had other options. Options you would never take, not as long as he existed. You would stop existing before you ever thought of leaving him.  

You nodded, feeling more like a foolish, vulnerable 16-year-old than you had when you were foolish and vulnerable and 16.  

He sighed, breath sweet with the pudding he could never resist, and you were closing your eyes, tilting your chin up, expecting him to give in.  

He turned away. You watched him, mouth agape in disbelief, as he pushed his hands through his hair.  

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” you screamed, bringing your hands down on his back in something that was half-shove, half-slap.  

He had whipped around before you could lower your arms and you found your wrists caught in his hands.  

“You don’t fucking stop, do you?” he hissed.  

“Why would I stop?! I don’t want to stop, Minho! And nor do you! You can’t say you don’t! Because I KNOW. I KNOW you want it. I know you want me. And I’m fucking throwing myself at you. Take me! TAKE ME!” 

His eyes were hard and dark. His fingers pushed so tightly into your wrists that you could feel your pulse against them. He was breathing heavily, nostrils flaring but lips shut tight, pressed together in a thin line.  

“Take. Me,” you repeated, level and firm, not sure if he would, but sure that, if he didn’t, things would never be the same again.  

You couldn’t do this a fourth time. Couldn’t put yourself in his hands, have him take you, and then... Not. And then stop. And then act as if you didn’t exist. That thread between you, tied up in your heartstrings, was taut, stretched, at its limit. And so were you. 

The pause was painful. Excruciatingly long. Adrenalin coursed through you, making you hot, making you shake, making your heart beat so hard against your ribs you thought they might break. Thought your heart might break. Hadn’t been willing to admit how fragile it was but it felt like venetian glass now. You could already feel the cracks forming, the web extending, the shards- 

He kissed you. Pulled you roughly towards him by your wrists and kissed you. Put his hands on your hips, then slid them under your top, and still kissed you. He was kissing you. It took a few seconds to slip back into your body, to feel it, the soft petal of his lips against yours, the sharp bite of his teeth, the wet warmth of his tongue. You forgot your shattering heart and grabbed his T-shirt, using it to pull him closer, to drag him into your shared bedroom. 

Not that he needed dragging. You stumbled over each other’s feet as you tried to kiss and walk and grope all at once. You tumbled backwards onto his bed and took the brief separation as an opportunity to lose your top, to unclasp your bra. Your hands were in the waistband of your joggers when Minho climbed over you, topless now too, breathless as he mirrored your actions, pushing his trousers and his boxers over his hips. He huffed a frustrated sigh as you giggled, as he stood back up to take them all the way off, to kick them off his ankles and take yours away, too.  

He didn’t give you time for admiration, for appraisal. He lay his body over you and his lips pressed against yours, quickly, firmly, before trailing them across your jaw and down your neck. He was every bit as vicious as you thought he would be, teeth nipping at your sensitive skin, sinking into your soft flesh. You wanted him to mark you, wanted the proof of it to last. You scraped your nails down his back and he hissed when you broke the skin. Hissed but didn’t complain. Hissed and moved his mouth lower, swirling his tongue around your nipple, sinking his teeth into that, too.  

When you tugged on his hair, he pulled off, looked at you, his face an open question. You shook your head. 

“It’s fine,” you panted. “I like it. I just want to pull your hair.” 

He laughed and clamped his teeth over your breast again, harder this time, so you keened and your back arched into him. You twisted his roots in your fist and he moaned, eyes flicking up to yours as he kissed across the valley of your chest.  

“Do that again.” 

“Fuck,” you gasped, tipping your head back, doing as he had asked and tugging hard.  

The ache you felt for him had ballooned inside you, taken up all your hollow spaces. There was your flushed skin and your fluttering heart, your rushing blood and your deep, persistent ache for Minho. Nothing more. Nothing less.  

“Mouse,” you whispered, voice tight with desire. “Touch me, please.”  

You never asked. You didn’t beg. If you liked a guy, you let them do what they wanted with you, and if you didn’t, you took what you wanted. It was always one-sided.  

But this wasn’t. It was Minho. It was the fathomless depth in his eyes as he lay his mouth all over you. It was the slip of his fingers through your soaked folds as he sucked sweet bruises against your neck. It was the sound of a moan caught in his throat when you wrapped your fingers around his hard, leaking length. It was mutual. It was reciprocated.  

It was burning you up, hotter and sweeter than you’d ever felt before. His fingers sinking into your core made you shudder with delight. The twitch in his cock as you brushed your thumb over his head made your mouth water. The sound of his mumbled sweet nothings pressed against your skin, whispered in your ear, licked straight into your mouth, made you dizzy.  

“So soft,” he said. “So wet... Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful... I’ve wanted this for so long... Wanted you...”  

He used your name, your real one, the one he didn’t learn (didn’t ask for) for months after you met. You returned the favour, ‘Minho’ tripping from your lips, until he shook his head. 

“Mouse,” he murmured, mouth still pressed against yours. “‘Mouse’ is yours.”  

“Mouse,” you echoed and he nodded before kissing you so that you could say nothing at all. 

* 

You barely spoke, couldn’t catch your breath enough to form the words, couldn’t engage your faculties to find any to say. Minho spoke, though, more than you had ever heard him speak: praise and exclamation and remembrance and, yes, even admonition, but it was all so sweet, syrupy, dripping from his tongue like honey. You’d never heard him speak like this before, never had him melt in your hands or in your mouth, never felt him as easy and pliable as this.  

It wasn’t just his body. It wasn’t just the perfect smoothness of his warm, soft skin. It wasn’t just the stretch, the fullness, he made inside you, the insistent rhythm of his hips thrusting his cock tightly into your slick, waiting warmth. It wasn’t just his wet, sugary mouth, at your lips, at your jaw, at your clavicle. It wasn’t just all these things he was doing to you, all the things you were doing to him. 

It was his open eyes, round and shining and fluttering closed as your walls clenched around him. It was the tenderness in them, the depth he was letting you see, for more than just seconds at a time. It was the gentle tracing of your face with his fingers, even as he fucked into you, even as his teeth drew blood beneath your skin. It was Minho, the entirety of him. Yours. Finally yours. Finally giving in to you, giving himself to you.  

You got it. You had said you did and you had, but now, beneath him in his bed as he loved you, you actually understood the magnitude of it. His feelings for you. Yours for him. Held back behind a dam for so many years and now, the dam had broken. Now came the deluge that would flood the world, could drown everyone in it.  

To hell with them, you thought. To hell with anyone else. You found what you needed almost a decade ago. He found you. You found each other, somehow, by some miracle.  

When the pleasure swelled up in your core, toes curling, back breaking, you cried out with all the breath you had in your lungs, felt tears sting in your eyes, and the following inhale wobbled and shook. Minho paused, pressed his forehead against yours, kissed you lightly, didn’t have to ask the question out loud.  

You nodded and kissed him again, then again, each time hungrier than the last. You didn’t want to stop. Didn’t want to feel anything but this, but him. He moved slower now, though, hips rolling smoothly, lips not leaving yours, even when he spoke, even when he murmured how fucking good you felt, how much better than he’d imagined, how hard he was trying not to come, how he didn’t want this to end.  

You couldn’t take it. Thought you really would cry, thought you would collapse entirely under his weight, under the weight of everything you’d been carrying around, all these feelings: all this love and fear and frustration. He pushed you to the edge again without even trying, your red thread thoroughly tangled, inseparable now, and pulling a greater ecstasy from you than you had ever known.  

He couldn’t hold out either, his final, sharp thrusts filling you with his sticky release. You held him there, as close as he could be. He kissed you, so light it was barely there, his fingers grazing your face as he pushed the hair from your brow. 

“Mouse,” you choked, tears threatening your waterline.  

He kissed you again, that little butterfly kiss; you’d never seen him be this gentle.  

“Sixteen,” he whispered and, for possibly the first time, it didn’t sound like disdain, didn’t come accompanied by a smirk or an eye-roll; it was hushed and secret and just for you.  

As it had always been.  

* 

You lay on his chest, bodies pressed together in the small, single bed, as they would have been even if the bed were bigger.  

“I want some water,” he said, lips against your forehead before he manoeuvred himself out from underneath you. “Want a drink?” 

You nodded and he smiled down at you as he fetched clean underwear and pulled a T-shirt over his head.  

You watched him go, watched him open the door, and then heard the sound of party poppers, whoops, and applause.  

The apartment was empty. Had been empty when you entered your bedroom. In the midst of everything, you had failed to notice the gang return home. They had not failed to notice you and Minho.  

“Fucking finally!”  

“You mean, they finally fucked?” 

Laughter resounded from the living room. Minho turned around, closed the door, and climbed back into bed without a word. 

[quietstormxr]

No Need

Here's a Xaden x Reader that was a message request.

Slight Iron Flame Spoilers

Summary: You were Xaden's Wingleader and sent to Chakir. You discovered the venin and rebellion and want to fight, but don't want Xaden to know. You fight at Pavis and are injured.

Angst to Fluff

Hope this covers the request. I had a lot of fun writing it!

Word Count : 4.7k

Getting used to the idea that you were now considered a ‘traitor’ would definitely take some time. As you walked up to the entrance of the fortress of Riorson House in the warm August heat, you couldn’t help but take in the brutal beauty in front of you. 

As you walked, you kept your steps measured, but your head held high. Your latest intercepted intelligence told you that this is where you would find the new instance of Fen Riorson’s original rebellion. Even though you no longer exchanged letters with Xaden, your heart knew you would never be able to let innocent people die for the lies Navarrian leadership would spin.

As you walked up to the fortress, someone with close cropped auburn curls came walking out of the doors. You honestly couldn’t believe they would let you get this close before taking you down, but you had just shrugged your shoulders and kept moving. 

“What is your business here, rider?” The man in front of you asked in an accusatory tone, leaving no room for niceties. 

Knowing there was no reason to beat around the bush, you began to explain. 

“I’m here to offer my services to the rebellion. I have deserted my post at Chakir and want to join the fight against the venin.” You said with your shoulders squared, chin high, and a tone of conviction. 

“What is your name, Lieutenant?” The man asked looking at the ranking on your flight jacket. 

“I am Lieutenant L/N. I was a wingleader of Fourth Wing two years ago and Xaden Riorson served as a squad leader under my leadership.”

The man kept looking at you as you explained, a flash of understanding flew across his features.

“Ah, yes. Lieutenant Riorson spoke highly of you. However, I’m sure you are aware that you will need to be questioned before your intentions can be ascertained.”

You nodded your head, while he began to lead you to an open room. 

As soon as you entered, you were overwhelmed by the stares directed at you. There were five other people, obviously older than you, that were looking as if they had just broken from a heated discussion. 

The man that ushered you in, gestured at a chair at the other side of the table and you took a seat. 

“I am Lieutenant Colonel Brennan Aisereigh. I know from Lieutenant Riorson, that you may have suspected that our operations existed. However, now that you are here, please help us get to know you by confirming how you learned of our existence, the venin, and any other current knowledge you can share.”

You gave a curt not before immediately starting to explain your reasoning for being there. You explained your close relationship with Xaden, leaving out the fact that you had been involved while you were at Basgiath. You explained how you came across the correspondence that led you to Aretia and the way you had come across the venin while on a patrol in Chakir. As soon as you were finished explaining everything you could, you were ushered out of the room and to another room.

You looked around and realized this must have been someone’s office, as there was a desk with papers and maps strewn about. You took a seat in one of the plush chairs lining the walls and got yourself ready for the long waiting game ahead as the members in the other room decided your fate. 

As you sat there, you couldn’t help reminiscing over the relationship that you and Xaden shared. You remembered the stolen moments you had taken in your room as the Wingleader of Fourth Wing, the nights spent together talking and laughing while looking up at the stars, and even the fights that always seemed explosive. 

You both had kept in touch when you first left Basgiath, but as distance does, it seemed that you both drifted apart. You still thought of him often and even remembered the touch of his hands on your skin. But, with all the rumors that you received at your post, you were more than aware that Xaden had moved on more than once at this point. 

 You took a deep breath and sighed, knowing that line of thinking wasn’t going to help you in any way. But before you finished exhaling, the door to the study opened. 

“Lieutenant Colonel, have you all come to a decision?” You asked as you stood to mark the respect to the rank of the man in front of you.

“Yes, the Assembly has confirmed that you are welcome to serve with us in this rebellion, if you so choose. However, if at any time your loyalties are called into question, you will have to face a tribunal.” He says his face stern to convey the gravity of what you were taking on. 

Without an ounce of hesitation, you say. “I understand completely. I am more than willing to prove myself of service to the Assembly and rebellion. However, if I may, I have one request.”

He looks as you with confusion and gives a quick nod for you to continue.

“As I’m sure you are aware, Xaden and I have history. I would like for him to be kept in the dark as to my involvement. I understand that this is his house, so I would like to find lodging somewhere else. I want to be just another name on the rolls of Lieutenants for you to command as you need.”

He looks at you with a face of slight confusion. “How do you intend on him being unaware if we use your name?”

I give a small smile and continue. “I would like to use my grandmother’s maiden name, in place of my last name. I don’t believe he will know who is on the rolls by just my first name. I also ask that if he ever returns to the rebellion full time, I am put on any other squad. I do not wish to be a distraction.” You say knowing that you may be the one that is distracted. 

“Otherwise, I will report to duty and such as normal.” I finish.

He gives me a look as if trying to discern something but nods his head in agreement. 

Months pass and your new routine continues to develop. You had moved into a small cottage near the fortress and were able to successfully avoid everyone in the fortress for the most part. The only people you saw regularly were Brennan, as you now knew him and Felix. 

Brennan had found you were a good sounding board for him and helped with strategy when things were constantly shifting. 

You didn’t mind either as it kept you extremely busy. You were constantly learning the movements of the venin, helping to research more on how their powers worked, and were even brought into negotiations with Poromiel. It was a whirlwind on how you infiltrated into the inner workings of the rebellion. 

As you are packing your bag for your next assignment, you hear the roar of wind hitting the windows of your cottage. You look out the window to see the largest riot you’ve ever seen flying overhead.

You scrunch your nose in annoyance though when you see Sgaeyl is leading the whole riot. 

‘Can we leave before Sgaeyl sees you?’ You ask Fenrir, not wanting to get caught up in explanations or reunions. 

‘I’m ready when you are Ferocious One.’ He confirms back.

‘Let’s go. I’ll meet you to the west of town, since I assume the riot will be flying to the valley.’

You hear Fenrir huff in agreement and quickly finish your hair and grab your pack, while sprinting out the door with a cloak drawn to hide your features. 

                                ____________

Not long after getting to the outpost you’d been stationed at near the Medaro Pass, your squad gets the information of the new arrivals at Riorson House.

You also received a personal correspondence from Brennan confirming that Xaden was still unaware of your involvement and that he would take great care to make sure you were stationed apart. 

You took comfort that at least you would still be able to fight this war without the distraction of Xaden in front of you. 

Neither of you had called your ‘relationship’ off, but you had just stopped sending him letters. It wasn’t for lack of him trying, but as you learned of different things, you couldn’t help the way you felt slightly betrayed. 

First you had found out he was betrothed while you were stationed in Chakir and then you learned of Violet Sorrengail and the saga of mated dragons. Both new realities made you sure that it wasn’t worth the fight or confrontation, so you were just going to let it lie. 

It helped that the rebellion was stretched thin, so there were already so few riders available to man outposts. The days that you were home in your cottage, Brennan confirmed that Xaden was on patrols. 

It felt as if you would finally be able to stay apart, but still be able to help those in need. As time progressed with the rebellion, you started becoming more reckless. You figured that there wasn’t much you had left in the world, so if you could make the ultimate sacrifice to save someone else, then why not. Fighting venin was never going to be predictable anyway.

                        ____________________

It didn’t go to plan. Then again, since you arrived at Basgiath, did anything really? You may not be as Basgiath any longer, but that didn’t mean the unfortunate incidents didn’t follow you around. 

Sometimes you wondered if the Assembly really knew anything about the movements of the venin and apparent army they had. It didn’t take more than ten minutes before the entire city was overrun. 

You were only caught off guard for less than a minute, but those precious seconds cost more than you were willing to admit. One minute the sky was clear and the next you were rushing to your dragon, strapped with every dagger you owned and hoping you could help as many people as possible. 

‘Fenrir, we need to draw the attention away from the civilians. Let’s cause a scene.’ You thought to your dragon, knowing that none of your fellow riders were going to approve of your plan. 

You were known for being a little bit reckless with your own life, but you figured that it was always better to save the masses, even at the cost of yourself. 

Your riot that was watching over the city was only you and two other Lieutenants, all of which has seen little as to actual combat. You were the only one that had previously dealt with the venin while stationed in Chakir. 

Knowing that you had the most experience with these creatures, you searched the horizon with Fenrir to see how many venin you would be dealing with. 

‘Ladon confirmed there are only two venin with this wyvern horde.’ Fenrir confirmed. 

‘Then let’s hunt the two. Can we get the attention of the most powerful one?’ You asked back hoping to draw the one with the most power your way.

‘Let’s hunt, Ferocious One.’

You let a menacing smile cross your face as you braced yourself on Fenrir’s scales. As soon as he got you close enough to the first venin, you let your hand fly with an energy whip flying to lash out as it flew past you on a grey wyvern. 

You were only slightly wrong on your calculation of what the venin would do, so you weren’t expecting when it willingly flew back to your side on Fenrir. The second of distraction was all it took for the venin to swipe a blade across your arm. You felt a searing pain lance through you, one that you had never experienced before. 

But you weren’t going to let the damn thing win that easily. Before the venin could register your actions, you pulled the energy taut again and slammed the alloy dagger into its chest. The screech that it let out caused you to immediately loosen the energy tearing at its waist. As soon as it dropped, you turned your attention to the other venin.

However, you were shocked to find there were now several more than before. Although wyvern seemed to be dropping out of the sky, there were more than you and your two other squad members would be able to take down.

‘Can you spot the next most powerful one? We need to keep drawing them away from civilians.’ You thought fiercely. 

‘I can, but you are hurt Ferocious One.’

‘I don’t care Fenrir. I will not let these people die.’

Fenrir gives a huff of exasperation, but you know that he will not let these people die either. 

‘There is additional backup coming that Ladon has called for coming now.’

You send a wave of confirmation, so Fenrir knows that you’re aware of what he said, but you’re focused on staying on his back and trying to push past the burning in your arm. At this point, you know that if this is your end, you will go down fighting as much as you can for the continent. 

As you fly forward chasing the next venin, you see the flash of blue scales that you had been dreading to see all these months. You know that there is no way Xaden doesn’t know who is on the back of the red swordtail in front of him. However, you don’t spend much time dwelling on that as you are in a collision course with another venin. 

You stand again on the back of Fenrir with your good hand grasping the scales in front of the pommel and make another lasso of energy ready to tear across the next venin. You go to lash out, but you hear a screech from next to you and turn to see a patch of desecrated land, where just a moment ago was a rider and her dragon. 

Turning fast, you decide to create an arrow of energy and launch it straight at the venin’s throat that just killed one of your fellow riders. You aim and it strikes true through its throat. You let out a breath as you watch as the civilians that were fleeing that area now have more time to evacuate. 

‘We’ve been told to retreat.’ Fenrir relays to you.

‘Why? There are still civilians at risk!’ You snap back, aggravated that you can’t continue to hunt these heartless monsters.

‘You can take that up with your leadership when we return to Aretia.’

“Ugh!” You can’t help the yell of frustration that rips through you at the idea that you will leave innocent people behind.

On your way back to Aretia, the adrenaline and fury of the fight is starting to wane. As you get closer to Riorson House, your body feels like every nerve ending is alight with fire. The absolute agony shooting through you is making it hard for you to keep your grip on Fenrir’s seat. 

‘Can you bring me back to the cottage and ask Marbh to get Brennan?’ You ask Fenrir as a particularly stinging pain comes searing through your body. 

You let your grip loosen slightly and tear the sleeve of your jacket open more. 

“Damnit!” You look down at your arm and see black spidering across your skin. 

‘I’ve been poisoned Fenrir.’

‘I know Ferocious One. I saw. I have relayed the message to Marbh and told him to get his rider there now. We will be back in just a few minutes. Hang on.’ He says as I feel bands wrap around my legs to keep me from falling. 

You silently thank your dragon as your body seems to want to dance in and out of consciousness. 

The next thing you know, Fenrir is landing in front of the cottage. 

“Y/N.” You hear a male voice call. You look up and see the auburn curls you were hoping for. Relief washes over you and you fall towards Brennan.

“Bren, poison.” You manage to rasp out. Your eyes flutter in and out and you could swear you see a swath of navy-blue fly above you and rope of shadows drop a figure to the ground. As you begin to finally cave to the acidity of the poison floating through your system, you think you hear a familiar male voice.

“What the fuck is going on Brennan?” The voice asks and you feel yourself getting yanked into a different pair of arms and against a hard chest.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?” You can’t mistake the anger in the way the person says your name before you fully give in to the darkness.

You wake slowly blinking away the exhaustion that still seems to still be pulling you under. Your body only now feels warm, instead of the feeling of fire racing through your veins. 

The two male voices that you remember are now still talking in hushed angry tones.

“Why the fuck would you let her join and hide herself?” One of the voices hissed. “Then you send her to one of the most active fucking outposts. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I did as she requested when she came here.” The other voice volleyed back. “You already know that you aren’t privy to all of the decisions of the Assembly yet, especially before you came back with an entire untrained riot.”

“I don’t give a shit. You wouldn’t have accepted her terms if it were one of your sisters.” 

“She’s not your sister, so I don’t see how your decisions have any weight regarding her choices.” Gods, that had to be Brennan, at least your foggy mind thought that’s who it was.

“I don’t fucking care what you think! She’s not to be put on an active border like that again.” The other male voice roars. 

You hear one of them blow out a breath before continuing in a calmer tone. “That’s not for you to decide. It’s her decision when she wakes up how she wants to proceed. She has been invaluable for the movement and has provided guidance on movements and killed more venin than anyone else. It’s her life and her decision to make.”

“Over my fucking dead body.” The other voice says back, a dark imposing tone highlighting every word. 

“Look, she needs to rest, and you need to get yourself under control. I’ll stay with her tonight. You go back to the fortress and get yourself in order. And before you ask, that’s a damn order, now move out.” Brennan tells the other male.

You hear a frustrated growl rip through the air before you hear boots retreating from the cottage and slamming the door. At that, you fall back into unconsciousness as sleep takes you again.

A few days later, you slowly blink your eyes open and are greeted with the bedroom that you’ve called home over the last few months. You take a deep breath, the first that you have been able to take since the battle began. 

It’s with that realization that you jolt fully awake remembering the fight and staggering from Fenrir. 

‘Are you alright Fenrir?’ You ask unsure about what happened once you returned home.

‘Of course, Ferocious One. I’m glad to know that you are awake.’ He says in reply, a wave of affection surging through your bond. 

You slowly sit up and place your feet on the floor, shivering at the cold that has settled in the air. However, it looks as though someone had recently been at the cottage as the remnants of a fire are still glowing in the small fireplace. 

You grab a sweater from your small closet and toss it around the pajamas that someone seems to have changed you into. You walk into the small living room and find that someone has obviously been making themselves at home in your cottage. There are some food items on the counter and there’s a blanket spread across the couch that looks like someone just got up. 

As you continue to shuffle to the front door, you shake your head trying to clear some of the fog that has seemed to settle in your mind. You can remember hearing voices arguing but can’t seem to remember what they were arguing about. As you go to open the door, you feel the knob turning in your fingers and your brow furrows. 

The knob turns fully, and the door is opening with the full light of the sun spilling inside. You squint and blink your eyes several times before you can focus on the person in front of you. 

As your eyes finally acclimate to the lighting, you look up and take a full step back when the man in front of you comes fully into focus.

Xaden.

You continue to stare back in surprise and watch as you see the same emotion reflected in his eyes. 

“Gods.” He breathes out and the next thing you know, you are being crushed into an embrace. 

You let out a small squeak in surprise at the gesture which causes him to immediately pull back to look down at you. You watch as his gaze roams all over your body as if looking for a place that you’re hurt. 

You slowly step back out of his arms and watch as his expression turns blank. 

“Wh – what – what are you doing – here?” You stammer out as your voice croaks with disuse. 

“I should be asking you the same thing.” He says with a firm tone to his voice.

You scoff incredulously at the tone that the man in front of you has taken. It’s amazing how fast this man can get on your nerves, especially after you just woke up from being poisoned.

“I never asked you to come into my home.” You spit back at him. “And you can’t control my actions as a rider trying to protect the people of the continent.” 

“I beg to differ. If I don’t want you on the front lines, you won’t be. Just watch me.” He snarks back viciously. 

“Ugh.” You say as you turn away from the infuriating man in front of you. “I either fight with the rebellion or I fight alone. Your choice. I made my decision regarding the side of the war I am on, and you can’t change that.”

“Oh, I won’t.” He says lowly while stalking towards you. “But I can guarantee you won’t be going back to Draithus or anywhere near there.”

You look back at him incredulously. You can’t honestly believe this man would punish you for simply joining the rebellion without telling him.

“And why not?” You snap back with your blood now boiling in your veins.

“Because I can’t fucking lose you!” He roars at you, his chest heaving along with his panting breaths. 

You whirl your head to face him with shock written all over your face. Your entire body has gone instantly still trying to process the words that just came out of his mouth. 

“Wha – What – What do you mean?” You stammer in a whisper.

You watch as he prowls towards you before grabbing your face in both of his hands.

“I came for you. I went to fucking Chakir looking for you and no one knew where you were. I’ve spent months wondering if you were dead because I didn’t know what happened to you.” He rushes out with hands still attached to your face.

“Then when we came back here and I didn’t see you on the rolls of current active riders, I thought I lost you. I had people all over Navarre searching for you. I constantly asked Sgaeyl if she had seen Fenrir.” He huffs out a humorless laugh.

“Then we are called to help defend Pavis and what is the first thing I see, but your energy whipping a venin down to Fenrir and you kill it. But the damn thing sliced you before you landed the killing blow. I watched your face scrunch in pain before you put your mask back on and flew with Fenrir. I didn’t even know if you saw Sgaeyl on that field.”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I saw Sgaeyl, she’s beautiful and hard to miss. Especially with you as her rider.”

“Then I flew back towards Riorson House after, and you weren’t in the group that came back. Again, I thought I lost you before I found fucking Brennan holding your almost lifeless body in front of this cottage.” He continues to explain as he gestures around the small cottage with one hand.

His fingers had at some point started stroking your cheeks in a soothing motion, although you were unsure if he was trying to soothe you or himself. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were here? Why did you stop writing?” He asks quietly. His tone of voice has now turned quiet almost as if he speaks too loudly the dream he is in would disappear. 

You turn your eyes down breaking his gaze, knowing that you don’t want to have this conversation. 

“Talk to me. Please.” He says pleadingly.

You look back at him with resignation in your eyes. “While at Chakir I found out about your betrothal and then about General Sorrengail’s daughter. I figured that you’d moved on. I didn’t feel like there was any reason to update you on my whereabouts any longer.” You sigh. “I didn’t want to bring in any additional complications for you.”

You look into his eyes and see regret and sadness. “My whole life I’ve never thought I’d have a choice on who I could be with.” He pauses before continuing. “I may have been betrothed and now tethered to Violet Sorrengail, but there’s only one person that I really want.”

You feel as one of his arms wraps around your back and the other hand rises to your neck and tilts your head back. 

“I couldn’t breathe when I saw you limp in Brennan’s arms. I nearly ripped his throat out for touching you like that and knowingly putting you in danger.” He whispers. “I haven’t felt whole since you left Basgiath. And I’ve only been looking for you.”

You can’t help the way you feel like you’re falling into the onyx depths of the eyes of the man cradling you close. 

“Please don’t shut me out. I’ve been here the last four days hoping against hope that you would wake up. I need you.” He continues.

“I won’t stifle you. I never could.” He says with a sad smile crossing his face. “But I want you to be with me. I don’t want to hide this anymore and I want you to fight with me.”

You continue searching those onyx depths and see nothing but sincerity and truthfulness. A small smile breaks across your face. 

“I’ll fight with you.” You say as his arms tighten around you. “But you may have to catch up. I’ve been counseling the Assembly in strategy for the last few months.”

A smile breaks across his face. “So, I’ve heard. From what I can tell, the Assembly is very impressed with you.”

“Well, I didn’t make wingleader just because of my pretty face.” You sass back playfully.

“That may be true. However, your beautiful face just makes all that wonderous talent even more deadly.” He says moving his face closer to yours, before turning serious again. 

“Will you be mine? No games, no hiding. Please.” He asks pleadingly.

You smile back at him before rising and kissing his lips lightly. For a moment he doesn’t respond, but once he realizes, he’s tightening his hand on the back of your neck and bringing you closer. His lips crash harder into yours, which causes yours to part slightly. He takes advantage of it and licks your bottom lip before claiming your entire mouth. You continue to share heated kisses before you are both panting and gasping for breath, resting your foreheads together. 

“You’re going to need to up your game if you’re going to surpass your girl with the Assembly, Riorson.” You tease him. 

He smiles brightly before replying. “No need. I’m more than fine backing up my girl and standing by her side.”

[captainsophiestark]

Did I Forget to Mention?

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Day Twelve Prompt: "Did you hear that?"

Summary: Nik's SO *might* have forgotten to tell their Mystic Falls friends about their relationship with a certain hybrid. But it's not going to stay secret for much longer.

Word Count: 2,381

Category: Fluff, little bit of Angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Okay, I'm calling it! Semesters suck, I'd give anything to be on a quarter system if it meant not having homework on spring break."

My friends laughed, even as I groaned and collapsed back into the couch. I got one week to take a break from school, and a small window to reunite with my friends back in Mystic Falls who'd all gone to Whitmore. We were supposed to spend the whole week having fun starting tomorrow morning, but they'd surprised me by showing up at my house tonight to get the party started early. Unfortunately, a few of my classes had given me homework, and I couldn't give in to spring break until I took care of it.

"I have a feeling you're gonna be singing a different tune in May when you're out of class and we've all still got another month left," said Bonnie with a smile.

"You're just lucky we want to enjoy the break with you," Elena added. "Otherwise we'd be getting payback for you showing up to campus during finals week to 'relax and tan'."

"Hey! I also showed up as moral support, thank you very much!"

"How was that morally supportive?" asked Caroline.

"I brought you coffees! And I was exemplifying the light at the end of the tunnel for you guys, when you finished your tests and could join me in summer fun!"

"Oh! Okay, of course," said Caroline in a tone that I knew should make me concerned. "I forgot, you're right. We'll go make some drinks and leave you to finish this, maybe play some music, so we can model that spring break fun, light at the end of the tunnel for you."

"No," I whined, flopping back onto the couch again. "Point taken, and I'm sorry. Just please don't leave me to this homework alone."

"We won't," Elena reassured me, reaching out to rest her hand on my arm. "But... the three of us might make drinks anyway."

I groaned, grabbing a pillow and burying my face in it. Finally, I sighed, sitting upright again.

"Fine. You know where all the stuff is. Just... try not to get so buzzed you tell me to edit a bunch of ridiculous stuff into my paper, okay?"

"No promises!" chirped Caroline as my three friends all stood. I sighed, but before they could get any further out of the room, a loud thud came from the direction of the kitchen.

All three of us froze in our tracks. We'd spent way too much time dealing with supernatural headaches not to go on high alert after something like that.

"Did you hear that?" hissed Caroline. We all nodded, so I gestured for the four of us to head towards the kichen and check it out.

If it was a vampire, it had to be one who'd already been invited in. If it was a different kind of supernatural creature, between the four of us, we should probably be able to handle it. Still, it never hurt to be cautious. Surprises happened all the time, and they could be deadly.

We took up positions just outside the kitchen, then Caroline counted us down with her fingers. When she dropped the last one, all four of us whirled around the corner, ready for action.

I stopped dead at the sight of Klaus Mikaelson hovering by my kitchen island, my heart dropping in my chest. Caroline and Elena both looked ready for a fight, but Bonnie beat them both to it. She raised her hand, and Nik dropped to the ground, holding his head.

"Stop!" I cried, rushing forward and yanking Bonnie's hand down. She stared at me, shocked, outraged, and confused, but to my relief I saw Nik stand up out of the corner of my eye.

Silence settled over the kitchen. Every single person was looking at me, my friends all with incredulous looks and scowls, Nik with a faint smile. For my part, I actually found myself wishing I could go back to my classwork. Just as long as I could be anywhere but here.

Unfortunately, I didn't get my wish. Nik took a deep breath in, and I knew if I didn't speak quickly, he'd take over the explanations for me. As bad as this situation was, I knew that would only make it worse.

I'd been invovled in the Mikaelson drama with the rest of my friends while they'd been living in Mystic Falls, but once they left, I hadn't really given them much more thought.

That is, until I ended up going to college in New Orleans. Klaus and I had run into each other at an art exhibit, and it functioned as a kind of neutral territory. We were both pretty opinionated, and we'd ended up spending the most of the day together, first talking about the exhibit but quickly moving on to other topics, too. We'd had a strange kind of reconnection, although we hadn't really been connected in the first place, and within a few weeks he'd asked me on a date and I'd said yes. We'd been dating since that freshman fall, and recently, I'd caught myself thinking the word love more than once. But I'd been serioiusly, seriously putting off telling my friends back home.

I'd managed to dodge telling them for two whole school breaks now. But apparently, with spring break, my luck was finally running out.

"Alright," I started, holding up my hands before Nik could jump in. "So... Nik and I have been... together... for a while now. We ran into each other again in New Orleans and just kind of hit it off. I didn't want to tell you guys becuase, well... I didn't think you'd take it well."

No one said anything for a moment, like my words were on a slight time delay. Then, all three of my friends started shouting at once.

"Are you kidding me?"

"What were you thinking?"

"Out of every single person in New Orleans, in the world, why the hell did you pick him?"

Nik stepped up beside me as all three of my friends had their reactions. Honestly, I couldn't blame them. It was a justified reaction, especially after how seriously they'd been blindsided. Nik didn't seem the least bit phased as he wrapped an arm around my waist.

"I'm sorry, love," he muttered into my ear. "I didn't realize your little friends were over."

I just sighed. "It's not your fault, Nik. I should've told them a long time ago. Don't worry, they'll be fine."

As one, our attention returned to my friends, who were now glaring at the two of us. I grimaced, but Nik seemed to enjoy the negative attention. He grinned and pulled me in closer to his side.

Bonnie looked on the verge of using magic again, and Caroline seemed about two seconds away from charging Nik to start a fist fight, so I gave his shoulder a squeeze and gently stepped away from him.

"Guys... I'm sorry. I should've told you a long time ago, and I shouldn't have put you in a situation to find out like this."

"Or, how about you shouldn't be dating the guy who tried to kill us all in the first place!" Caroline shouted, unable to contain herself anymore. I grimaced, but didn't step any further away from Nik.

"That's... a fair reaction. But seriously, I'm happy. Happier than I've ever been. And it's not like he's trying to kill any of us anymore-"

"At least not right now," chorused Nik and Bonnie in sync, with two very different tones to their words. Bonnie fixed him with a fierce glare, and I winced.

"Okay, maybe we should all sit down and talk," I said. "Or the four of us can talk, and I can ask Nik to come back later-"

"No way," said Caroline, raising her hands and taking a few steps back as she shook her head. "If he's staying, I'm not."

"Caroline-"

"I need a walk."

With that, she turned and vamp sped out of the house. With a look at me, Elena followed her. Bonnie started drifting in that direction, too, but she paused first, with a scowl at Nik before giving me a slightly less hostile look.

"I'm glad you're happy. Really, I am. But you might want to consider the cost that happiness is coming with."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room. I sighed the minute she was out of sight, slouching against the corner and sighing. That could've gone much, much better.

"They took that better than expected," mused Nik from beside me. I groaned, and I heard him huff a laugh.

When I straightened up and met his eyes, however, I noticed the slightly guarded expression behind his eyes. It had taken a lot of work to get good at reading Nik, and I still couldn't do it with 100% accuracy. But even so, I knew he wasn't nearly as calm and unaffected as he looked right now.

I sighed. My friends weren't the only people I needed to have a serious conversation with.

"Nik..." I started, taking his hand and settling into one of the stools at the kitchen counter. I pulled him onto the one next to mine, scooting closer until our knees were pressed together and I could keep him close for this conversation. "I'm sorry. I should've told them a long, long time ago. And I want you to know... I didn't tell them because I didn't want to deal with the reaction I knew they'd have. Not because of anything to do with you."

Nik's eyes flickered, scanning my face. I gave his hand a squeeze, but I could tell we weren't out of the woods yet.

"Isn't their reaction everything to do with me?" he asked, his voice low and serious. I recognized the edged glint in his eye as something that usually spelled trouble. I sighed.

"Their reaction is because they don't like you, yes. But my decision not to tell them had nothing to do with you. I would've been just as hesitant to tell them I was dating a guy they didn't like in our class at Mystic Falls. But with you... I should've told them earlier."

"And why's that? You wish they hadn't found me in your kitchen? Wish you could've told them while I was a few states away, so no one would have to face the reality of the two of us being together?"

"No, Nik. I mean, yes, I wish they'd found out differently than this. But I should've told them earlier because... because I have serious feelings for you. And they're serious enough that I don't want to hide them or you. Ever."

Nik raised his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth lifting up in the faintest hint of a smile. I smiled too, recognizing the shift in his mood.

"And what, exactly, might these 'serious feelings' be?"

His tone was mostly teasing, but I decided to take it seriously. I took his other hand, then pulled both into my lap, holding them tight. I met his eyes, making sure he understood just how much I meant my words.

"I love you, Nik. I've been feeling that way for a while now. I'm honestly happier than I've ever been, and you're a big part of that. I love my friends, and I know they'll come around eventually, but until they do? That's their problem. You mean the world to me, and... I mean, yeah, like I said. I love you."

A smile had been growing on Nik's face, and by the time I finished, it was a full-on grin that I only got to see from him every once in a while. He pulled me closer, off of my stool until I stood between his legs, chest to chest with him.

"You love me, do you?"

"Yeah." I nodded, my heart beating out of my chest in my rib cage. I felt pretty confident that Nik returned my feelings, but that didn't take away any of the nerves. "Can't you tell? You're supposed to be able to hear heart rates, aren't you?"

Nik chuckled, pulling me even closer to him for a kiss. I melted against him, happy to feel him smiling against my mouth as his arms wound around my waist. After a few breathless moments, Nik pulled back just enough to speak.

"I love you too," he said, his voice low and his breath fanning against my lips. "Don't worry for a moment that I don't. I would do anything for you. And it's a bit ridiculous how much I mean that."

I smiled, closing the distance between us again as I kissed him.

"I'm glad you came to visit me," I whispered when we paused just long enough to take a breath. "I'm glad my friends know. I'm glad you're here with me. I'm glad you know I love you."

"I agree with all of the above," Nik said with a smirk. "And I'm glad your friends are gone, and that we have the house to ourselves."

Nik leaned forward to deepen the kiss, but I leaned back. I put one hand on his chest and grimaced. He raised an eyebrow.

"Is there a problem, love?"

"...I may or may not have a paper to finish. Tonight."

"Are you sure it has to be done tonight?" asked Nik, his voice low and silky smooth as he ran a hand over my hip. I just sighed.

"Yeah, babe, I'm sure. But... if you can help me get it done, then I'm all yours for the rest of the night."

Nik pulled back quickly, looking at me with one eyebrow raised and an eager expression on his face. I put a hand to my mouth to stifle a smile at his 180 degree mood shift.

"Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's get that paper finished, love. I've got quite a few ideas for tonight."

I just laughed as I followed Nik into the living room. I had a feeling we were in for a rough ride the rest of this spring break dealing with my friends. But I really did love Nik. I was happy with him, and if we could find a way to stay together in our own little bubble of bliss despite the crazy supernatural shenanigans in New Orleans, I knew we'd be able to figure it out in Mystic Falls, too.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

[niningtori]

violets are blue: a hanahaki au | oneshot

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, choi yeonjun x you

summary: you love beomgyu, your best friend, so much it makes you sick. literally. like, sick in the sense that your days are numbered as you try to fight off the hanahaki threatening to kill you every time he breaks your heart with his loving girlfriend, so you decide you'll try getting over him with the help of his girlfriend's friend, yeonjun.

genre: ANGST, melodrama, romance, hanahaki

warnings: lots of clichés, serious illnesses, and mentions of death

word count: 5.2k

notes: surprise! i didn't think i'd get this out just yet but here it is <3 please don't be mean (i'm fragile) and feedback is always appreciated!

it’s a bearable sort of pain, but it’s still painful, nonetheless. bearable is a very loose term, too, because you know if and when things continue as they are, you will no longer be able to write your symptoms off so casually. and as you lean over beomgyu’s toilet and watch purple petals stained with crimson red blood swirling down the drain, you know it won’t be long before your pain crosses from “bearable” to “hellish”. 

still, you manage to flush the evidence of your dying heart and take a good look at yourself in the mirror. your lips are nice and bloody, your makeup nice and smudged. you calmly take out the emergency mouthwash and makeup from your bag and get to work. after you’re finished tidying up, it’s almost like nothing ever happened. with a shaky smile and slightly reddened eyes, you leave his bathroom and prepare for the worst.

and the worst, it is. you just so happen to walk in to beomgyu’s living room while he plants a kiss on his girlfriend’s cheek as she giggles like mad. suddenly, your chest hurts even more than it already did and you find it hard to breathe. well, back to the bathroom you go.

-

you wish it were like the stories. you wish you could get some magical surgery to remove the flowers from your lungs — yes, even if it meant forgetting beomgyu. if you were a better person, you would say you’d rather die with your love than forget him; but as you’ve come to find out, you guess you’re not that selfless. actually, with the way things are now, you think it’d be better to forget. but unfortunately for you, there is no such solution in this world. 

as it stands, the only way for you to cure your illness is by finding another love, which you have been too stubborn to try, but as you die a little more and more every day, you realize you have to do something. beomgyu is getting more serious with his girlfriend with every passing day, and even before that, he never once looked at you like anything other than a best friend — which you thought was killing you at the time, in a figurative sense, but now it’s killing you in the most literal of ways and you’re desperate. 

you want to tell yourself that beomgyu needs you, and maybe he does, but he does not need your love the way you need his. the proof of this sentiment being that one of you is, at present, dying for the love of the other, and it’s not him. 

-

it’s hard to hate beomgyu’s girlfriend when she’s so fucking nice, so you stopped trying to hate her long, long ago. in another life, you might even call each other friends. in this one, though, it’s a quiet sort of dance where you neither push nor pull her too hard. if she’s there, you greet her with a smile on your face. if she’s not, you don’t ask about her. it’s a delicate little charade, but one you play the part in flawlessly. beomgyu commends you for being “so cool” with her, but you have no other choice. if you veer too much in one direction or the other, you run the risk of losing him for good. 

so she is, understandably, very surprised when you wait for beomgyu to go to the bathroom before asking her if she has any single friends.

“oh my god, really? i thought you'd never ask!” she exclaims, and you paste on a smile so sweet it’s sickening.

turns out, she has a lot of friends, unlike you, and many of them are, in her words, handsome. she pulls up a picture of a few of them and your eye is caught by one in particular. 

“who’s that one?” you ask, pointing to a black-haired boy with an undercut. 

“that’s yeonjun,” she grins. “oh, i just knew you’d like him. you’re totally his type, too. he’s gonna freak when i set you two up.” 

“what’s going on?” beomgyu cuts, and your short-lived giddiness is shot in the head almost instantly.

“baby, you’ll never believe it. she’s interested in yeonjun,” she declares, still as excited as ever.

beomgyu turns to you with a look you can only describe as odd. you never talk about dating with him. like, ever. you don’t even seem interested in the idea to the point where he very earnestly sat you down one day and asked you if you were asexual, to which you spent a very arduous few hours awkwardly explaining that you are not. honestly? he didn’t really believe it at the time, but he’s beginning to now, if only because you seem so incredibly flustered at the moment. 

“really? that’s great,” he says after a slightly off-putting pause, but thankfully, nobody catches it. “you know, for a second there, i thought you were gonna be our future kids’ single wine aunt forever. i’m glad you’re finally putting yourself out there.” god, he doesn't even know how much he hurts you, but he hurts you all the same. he’s spoken about marrying and having children with her, but to think that you fall into the “fun aunt” role in his future with her just makes you feel sick. you’d better pray that this shit with yeonjun goes well, because your lungs are starting to ache just as the thought.

“this is great,” she says, breaking you out of your trance. “how about this: we’ll go on a double date. that sounds fun, right?” 

“actually, i think i’d like to meet him on my own first, if that’s cool with you,” you say. the last thing you need is for the love of your life to be there on your first date with another man. what if things go wrong? or worse, what if things go right? beomgyu can’t be there for that. you can’t do that to poor yeonjun.

she looks disappointed at your words, but beomgyu cheers her up by pinching her cheeks and promising that you’ll all have plenty of chances to go out together if things go well. you try to smile, you really do, but you’re not sure if what comes out looks anything even remotely close to one. luckily, it seems like they’re too absorbed in each other to notice.

-

you haven’t talked much with yeonjun before tonight, opting to meet him in person to see if the chemistry is there before wasting any time with just “talking”. you simply don’t have the time to spare, and yeonjun seems equally as eager to meet you for reasons unknown. so now you sit all dolled up and glammed out at the back of a dimly lit restaurant as you wait to meet the boy you can only pray will save you. he must have no idea how much you need this. 

when you first see him, you’re taken aback by how handsome he is. you see beomgyu every day, and he’s the handsomest man in the world to you, but something about yeonjun is different. when he introduces himself and you get to know each other, his charisma charms you in a way you sincerely did not anticipate. he’s funny and goofy, which is just how you like them. you haven’t been on a date in god knows how long, but you’re starting to think that maybe this previously incomprehensibly doomed situation may not be so inescapable after all. that is, until he’s taking you home.

it’s dark outside and he graciously gives you his jacket like the gentleman he is, and you’re walking notably close together on the sidewalk, bodies brushing each other every few steps when he tells you something that just might change your life.

“listen, i really had fun tonight,” he says nervously, and it’s like you can feel the rejection before he even says anything more.

“but to be honest with you, my intentions aren’t exactly pure.” your heart drops. does he just want to sleep with you or something? that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but it’s not what you need. you need to love someone and for that someone to love you back so you don’t get sick beyond salvation. the only way to get over beomgyu is by getting serious with someone else.

“then what do you want?” you question feebly. he stops walking and turns to look at you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“i want to fall in love with you, and i want you to fall in love with me. i want us to be together forever. i need it, actually.” he says eerily seriously, and you’re confused for a few moments before it dawns on you. 

“you’re sick, aren’t you?” you ask, and his face hardens for a second before he nods.

“y-yeah, i'm sick. if you don't wanna see me again after this, i understand. i just —”

“it's okay. i am, too,” you say with a small, reassuring smile.

“you too?” he asks, eyes comically wide and pouty lips agape in an “o”. 

“yeah,” you tell him, and he’s quiet for a few moments before he laughs. it’s a cute, pretty little thing, and it makes you join him, too. 

“wow, maybe meeting each other was fate,” he says between giggles.

“maybe,” you reply. and for the first time in a long time, you think you might really make it out of this alive.

-

“and you won’t believe it, but he told me he spent the whole night with her!” beomgyu’s girlfriend says proudly. 

“... what?” he mumbles dazedly. 

“he said he went over to her place and stayed there all night, and on the first date, too!” she babbles. “now, he didn’t tell me what they did, but if i know yeonjun, i bet they —” 

“stop,” he cuts in. he doesn’t know why, but he feels that if he hears one more word about it, something will feel horribly wrong. it already does feel wrong, in a way, but he can’t quite put his finger on why. 

“why? aren’t you happy for them?” she asks confusedly. 

“i… i am. it’s just weird, y’know? she’s like… like a sister to me. nobody wants to hear about their sister’s private life,” he reasons, and she nods in response.

“i guess that makes sense,” she says. “but still, i’m so happy for them. especially him. he’s actually had a rough time, lately. i don’t know why, but he’s been acting kinda weird with me, so i —” 

“you’re here!” beomgyu says as you walk through his front door. he’s been expecting you. since your first date with yeonjun, he’s been eagerly texting you about it. you haven’t responded much, but he’s been chalking it up to how busy you must be with your new, well, whatever yeonjun is to you. he’s excited when he thinks about how he’ll get to see how you two interact with each other tonight since his girlfriend suggested you all hang out together, but part of him feels off about this entire situation. what he told her was the truth: it is weird to see you with someone, but maybe he’s just not used to it. you’ve never been openly attracted to anyone before, so it’s brand new territory to navigate. 

you greet him with a soft smile and not much else, which strikes him as odd, but yeonjun trails in after you, and all other thoughts go out of the window. 

“hey, man! nice to see you. it’s been a while,” he says, and yeonjun reciprocates the same excitement, going in for a side hug. 

beomgyu’s girlfriend goes in for a hug, too, and yeonjun freezes for a bit, but it goes unnoticed by everyone besides you. you look at him with as much reassurance and understanding as you can muster, and he replies with a grateful, shaky smile.

honestly, you weren’t terribly surprised when he told you that the object of his affections was the very person who holds the heart of the object of yours. she’s a bubbly, lively kind of girl, and it’s easy to fall in love with someone like that. if anything, it just makes you think that maybe yeonjun was right when he said meeting each other was fate.

the night is pretty fun, all things considered, and you find yourself not wanting to die while spending time with the loving couple, but that’s only because yeonjun is sitting next to you. when something particularly devastating happens, you grab each other’s hands and squeeze like you’re the other’s only lifeline. in a way, you kind of are. without him, you’d be on a one-way train to certain death, and without you, he’d be the same. 

things are pretty light, though, until beomgyu says he has an announcement to make.

“we’re moving in together!” his girlfriend cheerily cuts in before he can do the honors, and that’s enough to make any hard-earned progress go out the window. you feel your stomach churn and you’re finding it hard to breathe. you look very visibly ill, and while yeonjun is not doing much better, you definitely take it a lot harder.

“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you guys!” yeonjun chirps. 

“yeah. sorry, i think i need to go to the bathroom,” you mumble, and yeonjun concernedly looks at you before you subtly shake your head. in that brief look, you have an entire conversation. he asks if you’re alright and if you need him to come with you to spill your guts out, and you tell him you’re not, but you’d rather go alone.

while his girlfriend may not catch it, beomgyu certainly does. that odd, silent conversation that only yeonjun and you seem privy to. the fact that you two seem to have a level of understanding with words unspoken makes him feel suffocated, and there’s an unknown sharpness in his chest. 

he tries to join back in on the banter, but he can’t shake the uncanny feeling he has, so he excuses himself and follows you to the bathroom. 

now, he knows this is really fucking weird to do, so he almost doesn’t do it, but the sound of you retching makes him abandon all consideration of right and wrong. he presses his ear to the door and hears hushed sobs in between hacks, and it makes his eyes widen in horror and concern. 

he’s not sure how much time passes, but he hears the heartbreaking sounds die out, and then he hears the water run and you clearing your throat. he takes the cue to stop pressing against the door, and before long, you step out of the bathroom while looking perfectly put together. you flinch almost imperceptibly when you catch him right outside the door. 

“are you alright?!” he exclaims, but you just nod and begin to push past him, murmuring something about being fine, but that you and yeonjun need to leave because something came up. he didn’t even know you could move so fast, and he finds that he’s borderline chasing you to the living room where his girlfriend and yeonjun look up in surprise at the scene before them.

“do we need to leave?” yeonjun asks carefully.

“yeah,” you say shortly, and you’re booking it out of the door and onto the porch before beomgyu grabs your arm and spins you around to face him. his girlfriend hesitantly follows yeonjun outside and watches the entire ordeal as puzzle pieces begin to fit together in her mind.

“are you alright?!” he repeats, and you just face him with a withering, humbling look.

“i’m okay. i just don’t feel good tonight, but i’ll be alright. congratulations on everything, i’m sorry i can’t stay to celebrate.” and normally that would be enough to throw him off of your scent, but beomgyu remembers your muffled cries, and he won’t be swayed so easily. 

“what’s wrong? no bullshit. just tell me,” he demands in a way that is uncharacteristically solemn, but you can’t answer that. the only way to get him to forget about you is for you to distract him with the person he loves most.

“but your girlfriend —” 

“don't even start. what’s wrong?” he, well, asks isn’t even really the world, is it? there’s no room for negotiation in his tone. 

“i… i’m sick,” is all you can really say. 

“sick how? sick like you need me to take you home?” and he doesn’t really believe his own implication that it’s something so easily fixable, but he has to try. 

“i’m… i’m really sick. sick like i’m dying, sick,” you manage to croak out, and it’s everything he feared and more.

“what’s wrong?! do you need to go to the hospital?!” he panics, and you feel an overwhelming sense of dread. this is what you wanted to avoid because he can’t help you. nobody can. 

“baby?” the soft voice of his girlfriend pipes up from behind you. his gaze is torn away from you for just a moment, but that’s enough to make you ache.

“not now!” he snaps before turning his attention back to you, but it’s too late. you feel the sharp stems scratching at your lungs, causing a scorching sort of pain you can’t even put into words. slowly, you begin to cough — choke, really — and beomgyu is helpless to watch as you clutch your chest and hack up a mess of bloodied, tangled flowers. his eyes widen as he takes in the blood seeping from the corners of your mouth. 

“who?” he asks shakily as you finish coughing up the last of the petals, and you know he’s asking who your unrequited love is, but you don’t reply. you can’t reply. 

“who is it?” he asks again with more edge to his voice, but you still can’t muster up the courage to answer him. you could lie like you usually do, but you’re so tired, you just can’t anymore.

“baby?” his girlfriend repeats.

“what?!” he snaps, unable to help himself from losing his temper as he turns to look at her.

“it’s… it’s you,” is all she says, and his scowl drops and morphs into incredulity and dread.

“that's impossible,” he whispers, but one look at you and your twisted expression is enough to erase all doubt. “m-me? listen, you know i love you, but i —” 

“it's alright,” you coax, trying to placate him. even in your darkest moments, you're still putting his feelings first, and the thought alone is suffocating him. “i know. i really, really do. you don’t have to explain it to me.” and your “comforting” smile would be more convincing if it weren't stained red. 

“but you’re sick! you —” 

“i’ll be alright,” you whisper, and he’s at a loss for words at how calm you seem to be. how can you be so resigned? he looks at you — really, truly looks at you — for the first time in god knows how long, and he finally notices how different you are. your frame is lighter, your cheeks are more pronounced, and there are violet bags underneath your bloodshot eyes. how could he have missed so many signs? you’re dying, no way around it, and he was so busy playing house with his girlfriend, he had no idea just how much you were — are — suffering. it’s unforgivable, but he can tell you’ve forgiven him, anyway. how long have you been forgiving him? since the start of his current relationship? or even before that? 

“we should go,” yeonjun cuts in tentatively. you just tearily nod, and before beomgyu can say anything more, you’re in yeonjun’s car and driving away.

-

he calls and texts for days on end, but you don’t respond. at some point, he resolves to come see you in person. the way you looked the last time he saw you haunts him viciously. he just has to see you. he just has to be sure.

but when he shows up at your doorstep, you just look exhausted and even worse for wear. you don’t greet him, even, you just sigh and walk back to your bedroom before plopping down into the bed and looking at him with a look he can only describe as unreadable. 

“i just h-had to make sure you’re okay,” he stammers.

“i’m okay,” you reply gently. “i just need some time.” 

“b-but maybe if i —” 

“it won’t work. the only way out of this is for you to love me back, or for me to get over you. yeonjun is helping me, so it’s going to be alright, i think.”

“what if i —” 

“you can’t make yourself love me, beomgyu,” you say softly, the slightest tinge of a reprimand in your voice. 

“i… i can try,” he whimpers.

“yes, but i don't want you to. you have a girlfriend,” you patiently reply, but your seemingly unshakable patience just makes him more desperate.

“then what do you want me to do? i’m killing you!” he exclaims, and you wince as a sharp pain strikes your temples at the noise. he notices your response, and he just wants to die from the guilt.

“i don’t want you to do anything. that’s why i didn’t tell you.” how could you not want him to do anything? how could you possibly ask that of him? 

“h-how can you say that? how can you just expect me to watch you die?” he whines, tears spilling down his cheeks as he looks to you for a perfect solution that will never come.

“i’m alright,” you tell him again, but the way you wheeze afterwards suggests otherwise.

he goes to grab you, maybe to pat your back or maybe to hold you, he’s not really sure, but you feebly put your hand up to stop him before he gets too close. it’s an innocent gesture in and of itself, yet it somehow feels like you just smacked him across the face. 

“don’t touch me,” you say, but it’s more like a plea than anything else. “it’ll just hurt me more.” with that, your words devolve into a coughing fit and all he can do is watch as splatters of blood and stems stain the tissue you cough into. he never, not in a million years, thought that his touch would hurt you. it’s supposed to soothe you like nothing else. you know, the way your touch soothes him.

“i think you should go,” you suggest after your coughing has died down. he can see the aftermath of his mere presence etched into the tired lines on your face, and he feels less like a person and more like the scum of the earth. 

-

“what are you thinking about?” a sweet voice says, effectively pulling him out of his reverie. beomgyu is currently supposed to be cooking dinner with his girlfriend, but he’s spending more time spacing out than actually cooking the noodles he’s meant to be stirring.

“n-nothing,” he sputters, but her knit eyebrows and frown let him know he has to elaborate. still, he pretends he doesn’t notice her silent urging and returns to his task. 

he can feel her stare on him as he watches the pot, and it’s not very long before she sighs and says her next words.

“you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” 

“what? n-no! i just —” 

“yes, you are.” and her tone isn’t accusatory, but it’s filled with a sense of knowing. “it’s normal to think about her, you know? she’s dying and —” 

“don’t say that! why would you say that?! she’s not going to die!” he yells, slamming down the fork he was using to stir and turning to face her. he’s visibly shaking with rage — which makes no sense given that he knows, she knows, and even you know that her words are true. 

“she’s going to die,” she repeats. “you need to accept that.”

“how can you expect me to accept that?! you two just expect me to be okay with her fucking dying! well, i’m not!” he cries, tears streaming down his face as his words get louder and louder. 

“... i think you need to take some time to cool down. i’ll stay with my parents, so do what you need to do. when you’re ready, just call me, okay?” she says, and he only sobers up after he hears the front door slam shut.

-

beomgyu stays in an odd sort of purgatory. he’s constantly torn between contacting you and leaving you alone like you so obviously want. he tells himself that you’re his best friend, so of course he wants to see you and comfort you, but it feels much deeper than that. like there’s something unsolved and untouched that he just needs to dig a little deeper to figure out, but as for what that something is, he can’t seem to quite grasp. 

with this in mind, he never, not in a million years, anticipated that you’d be here on his doorstep. but here you are. you look even worse than before, somehow, which he is surprised by seeing as how things with yeonjun seem to be going well if yeonjun’s instagram updates of the both of you mean anything at all. he invites you in and offers you a seat, but you refuse. 

“come on, sit down. you must be tired,” he urges, but you wave your hand. 

“i don’t need to stay here long,” you dismiss, and it hurts his heart. “i just need one thing from you, and i’ll be out of here.”

“you need something from me? sure, anything! w-what is it?” and he sounds so hopeful, so earnest. maybe there’s a way to undo what he’s done. maybe he can help you after all. no matter what it is, he knows he can do it.

“... i need you to reject me,” is all you say, but the words ring in his ears. reject you? how can he reject you when it looks like a breeze could knock you over?

“b-but why?” he stammers, and you sigh.

“i finally figured it out. i just need to hear you tell me that you don’t love me, then i think i’ll be able to fully let you go for good.” usually, you’d have a soft smile on your face in order to comfort him, but your face is blank except for your eyes, which seem more desperate than anything he’s ever seen. but your words confuse him.

“let me go for good?” 

“yeah. i think if i can just hear you say it, i won’t need to see you anymore. i won’t ask for anything else, i just need to hear it from you,” you say determinedly. but he’s stuck on “i won’t need to see you anymore”. what could you possibly mean by that? 

“what do you mean you won't need to see me anymore?” he asks, voice devoid of any ill intent, but filled with genuine confusion.

“i mean, yeonjun doesn’t like me seeing you for obvious reasons, but i told him that i think i’ll be okay after this.” his confusion turns into dread. things that were a mystery to him suddenly make perfect sense.

“i can’t,” he chokes out, and you’re visibly stunned before anger explodes inside of you. 

“you can’t? what the fuck do you mean you can’t? why can’t you?!” you seethe. you’ve done everything for beomgyu, you even almost paid the ultimate price for him just so you wouldn’t have to make him uncomfortable with your feelings. you’re quite literally dying because of him, and he can’t offer up a meager sentence for you?

“i… i can’t say it. please don’t make me say it,” he pleads. “i’ll do anything else — anything, i swear to god!”

“beomgyu, there is nothing else. this is the only way. i’m not asking you for much, just say it, then i’ll be okay.” but he can’t do what you ask of him. not when he’s realized what he just realized. 

“b-but i… i do love you. i’m sorry, i just didn’t realize it until just now, but i do. a-and if you’ll have me, i —” smack! and his pathetic speech is stopped by your hand meeting his cheek. 

“you are so fucking selfish,” you spit, voice low, but vibrating with rage. “more selfish than i will ever be able to understand.” 

“w-what do you —” 

“beomgyu, you have a girlfriend. a girlfriend who loves you. what about her? huh?” you ask, and his previous momentum falters, but you’re not even finished yet. 

“and if she gets sick, are you gonna leave me and tell her you want her instead? you can’t do that, beomgyu. i won’t accept that. i won’t accept your love just because you feel sorry for me,” you declare, voice cracking as thick, hot tears roll down your cheeks. he’s still speechless, so you somehow find it in yourself to continue.

“i’m not doing this with you right now. call your girlfriend, tell her you’re sorry, and tell her she doesn’t have to worry about me anymore. and even if i’m gone, don’t you dare tell her what you told me today, okay?” and it’s not really an ask as much as a demand. 

“i can’t do that,” he whispers, and you’re not sure if the ache in your heart comes from the briars encircling it or from how pained he looks.

“i know i’m selfish. i know i’m a bastard. but seeing you with yeonjun, or worse, not seeing you at all? that’ll fucking kill me. i just can’t do it. i don’t want to hurt her, but i don’t want to lie to her. or you. or myself,” he says shakily.

“what are you saying?” you ask. this is not how you anticipated things would go. 

“i’m saying that if you leave me, i’ll be sick,” he says shakily. “j-just the thought of that makes me…” and it’s a surprise to the both of you when he coughs like crazy, and it’s to the horror to the both of you when a pretty, blood-stained violet petal escapes his mouth.

“oh god,” you whisper. “you can’t do this.”

“i can’t help it!” he exclaims. “i didn’t know before, but it’s true. i just didn’t realize it. i’m just — i’m just sorry i didn’t realize it.” 

“beomgyu, it’s going to kill her,” you say, dread evident in your tone.

“i know,” he says tearily. “but it’s you. it’s always been you. we can’t change it.” 

“i can’t do this to her. it’s wrong,” is all you can say. 

“i can’t live without you, and you can’t live without me,” he replies. “w-whatever happens, can we please just figure it out together? i don’t think i can handle another day without you. i think it might really kill me.” he pushes your hair off of your sweaty forehead, and you know as you feel your heart lighten that you have no choice. if not for you, then for him. whatever happens with his girlfriend, you will try your damndest to make sure she doesn't have the same fate as the two of you. 

“okay?” he asks. 

“o-okay,” you tell him, because what else is there to say? 

notes pt. 2: lorddd i know this ending will be polarizing but what can we do... it is what it is :(

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[tmwcs]

MIND GOING BRR AT THINKING ABOUT HOW SEX WITH HUMAN HEESEUNG AND IMMORTAL YN WENT,did she....act like a succubus or was as clueless as the mortal yn

And it went down exactly like this….

Warnings: Smuuuuuuuuuuuut central here. Y/n gets deceived, y/n is a bad girl, y/n gets it, heeleads swap y/n’s, alternate universe, mention of the word ‘r*pe*, devil baby eating people, unprotected smut, non-con/sub-con smut, heavy noncon smut vibes, time space continuum, time space travel, different worlds, kind of a marvel vs dc vibe. This is an aftermath from the Drabble “Somewhere in Time”.

You stood firm, crossing your arms while doing your best to remain ignorant. Knowing that this wouldn’t end well for you, you braced for impact, expecting for him to grab you from behind and twirl you around. There had been a handful of times that you and Helel had little arguments, but with him being the devil and ultimate powerful, many would deem it pointless to even try and throw a fit. Perhaps you were just too damn stubborn and prideful to submit, even knowing that the white flag would be waved in a moment….he always had his ways.

Facing the side of the mortal realm, you waited for the moment where he’d take you to bed by force. It would be a repeated act where you’re on the bed underneath him, taking in the rape as it slowly progresses to submission. As per usual, he’ll get you to the point where you’ll stop fighting, and beg for more until you can’t take it any longer, in which he’ll have you back to screaming for mercy. What a sicko. But, he IS the devil after all…and you’re married to him.

It all started after you returned home with him. You thought all would be well since a spark arose within you after Helel and his alternate souls rescued you and your own counterparts. For so many years since he’s taken you, you fought physically and emotionally against the idea of accepting his love. But your pride grew weak and you started to fall for him….no doubt it was a result of a disorder enforced by his own method. Anyone suppressed by a kind captor will eventually fall for them.

Upon the return to Hell from the most recent endeavor, you grew angry in seeing baby Helan sitting there, tearing the pieces of mortal flesh. You stood in total shock as the toddler tone of “mommy! Mommy!” Came out from those bloody lips. The red stain smeared his face and clothes as he sat there reaching up, closing and opening his fingers enthusiastically, waiting for you to pick him up. There were bits and pieces of limbs, fingers, organs and all sorts of fleshy parts you refused to look at. That innocent smile on your child’s face was a facade; behind it was pure malice and grotesque evil, enabled by his father.

“W-what-…!!” You stutter as you trembled, falling to your knees as your baby rushed over and hugged you. “Mommy! I missed you!”

Your eyes remained wide in horror while your hands stayed glued to the stone floor, you couldn’t think or react, not even to return the embrace of your own child.

Later that evening, you spoke to Helel about it begrudgingly.

“I thought we had an agreement that I don’t want Helan to do things like that.”

Helel scoffed as he finished sipping on his wine glass. A faint gulp slides down as he sides-eye you. Placing it down on the table, he reaches and began loosening his collard tie, smirking an adoring look over to you. “It was hardly an agreement. You mentioned your complaints and I listened.”

Here we go. This is the part that of which you hate. “Darling, he’s a growing boy…and not like the ones from where you originated. He needs flesh and blood in order to grow. Once he reaches a mature age he will be able to live without ever requiring the need for sustenance.”

You shook your head. “No…no I don’t like that. There has to be another way. I don’t want my baby to do monstrous things.”

He looks you over. “You? The Goddess of Hell—“

“HE’S MY BABY TOO!” You yelled, fierce anger in your eyes as you sphered them in his direction. His affectionate smile slowly starts to fade and his hand drops as he releases his tie. With a raise of a brow, his eyes wide and you knew, you crossed the line. A

He slowly walks over calmly, surprisingly. Whenever he was upset with you he’d immediately became forceful, teaching you a lesson while reiterating how much he loved you, and that it was all for your own good. But this time, he truly was pissed off. Not that you were justifying him, but a slight bit of you could understand his position. Your son is the offspring of the Devil after all, and the latter had just went through Heaven and Hell, visiting multiple worlds in gathering a league to save you and all versions of you. In his eyes, you were coming off as ungrateful.

His silence was more frightening than anything. He stood, watching as you tucked your chin and stared at the ground in shame. He peers down his outstanding height and just looks at you….sternly, with rage. What was more unusual was that he merely took a piece of your hair, and rubbed it together. He was being so tender and gentle, despite his eyes violating you through every hole in your body.

He sighs. “Bad girl.” Was all he barely whispers with a slight deep tone.

You shook as the shive stabbed your spine. You were going to get it this time.

“I-I—“ he cuts you off as he places a finger over your lips. “Shhhh…don’t fucking speak.”

You trembled. “Go to the bed, and stay there.”

You did as he demanded and tucked yourself away under the velvet bedding. He was being odd and handing this situation differently. God, it scared you so much.

He quietly leaves the room. You knew better than to try and follow or leave. The man has eyes and ears everywhere; it is Hell after all.

You were so scared that the fear took an emotional strain out of you, exhausting you. You drifted off to sleep immediately, unaware of what was coming.

………

“Geez, what is it now? Why are you here?”

“Ah—collecting the savoring morsels for your lovely girl, are we?”

“Isn’t there a lovely girl of your own that you should be feeding?”

“Precisely why I’m here.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Helel grins as he converses with his identical alternate.

“Be truthful. You love her.”

“Duh.”

“You love her so much that you also adore ALL flavors of her…don’t you?”

……

Heeseung stares sternly at his Devil counterpart. “Is there a point to this?”

“I am saying, o’hostile college-pretty-boy, that you and I are same. We love and kill for our brides. We are the only ones that love and care for them…all of them.” Helel crosses his arms. “You’re not the type to share…but is it really sharing if it is…you? “

Heeseung’s eyes sparked in rage, yet the devil continued. “And don’t you…want to experience your pretty baby in a different light?”

His counterpart calmed down. There wasn’t any denying the fact that the moment he saw you…other versions of you, his mind went wild. For you, he lives and breathes; it was blissful to have you in his life…what could be better than to have multiple duplicates of his precious girl?

“If we do this, just know that I’m not going to be restricted by any means. If I’m fucking my girl, regardless if it’s an alternate variant of her, I’m going all in.”

Helel smirks. “Relatable.”

“I can take who’s next.” The cashier spoke as the two remained facing each other. Both flaring a deadly smile.

……………..

You woke up, still in bed. Helel didn’t come back? Was he really that angry? What was he doing? This was too terrifying to deal with. You can’t believe you were saying this but in a sense, you’d wish he’d just rape and fuck your brains out already. At least you’d find some pleasure and resolvement from it….but this…this sense of unknowing his intentions was too dangerous. He always says he’d love you too much but is there a line that even YOU cannot cross with the Devil?

The e door gently opens, and you hear the foot steps walk around the large platform bed frame. “Helel?”

“Mmhmm.”

He walks over, and doesn’t say anything more as he moves his fingers, signaling for you to crawl closer towards the edge of the bed. He had a soft smirk. It was strange, though. His aura seemed off-putting. Your senses could feel there was something different but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Abiding by his non-verbal signal, you crawl over on all fours and allowed those two fingers to caress your chin. “You’ve been a bad girl?”

He spoke in an inquired tone. You assumed it was him being antagonizing in his demeanor, since you recognized the signs of sexual tension rising. “Yes…I’ve been bad..” you softly responded. You knew what he wanted to hear. You knew that he intended to punish you.

“Well, let’s do something about that.” He sighs out, leaning down as he grips your jawline. His elegant attire of black satin and white chiffon just made him so classy and irresistible. He kisses you, and to your surprise it was warm and tender. “Take it off.” He whispers, staring into your eye with an aloof but soft expression.

You began shedding off your undergarments, leaving just the garter and thigh high, damask stockings in place. “Good. Now take mine off.”

You undress him, beginning with his tie. Once you got the undershirt unbuttoned, he slowly pushed your head down, dragging your cheek against his entire abdominal muscles. You took the hint and undid his trousers, reaching to release his throbbing muscle; and it was throbbing. It was breathing to you.

“Put that bad little mouth on it.”

His voice was smooth and airy. Deep and dark. God, this man was so fine. Why the hell did you yell at him in the first place?

You lavished his cock with your saliva. Smoothing the moisture up and down, you dragged your tongue and traced every bit of vein and inch of it. He grits his teeth, enjoying this so much more than you expected. He slaps his hands on your arms as he flings you on your back. You yelped from the sudden change of motion as the level of force you recognized started to appear. Here it is…here is what you were both, dreading and looking forward to.

“H-Helel…” you whispered. “Wrong name baby.” He responded back as he kisses you, shoving his hand in between your thighs. You gasped out into his mouth. “Heeseung! Heeseung!”

It wasn’t odd to you, after all he went by both his original title and the name he adopted, the one that his brothers often called him by. Normally, however, during his deliverance of his punishments, he’d force you to call him Helel. But it seems he may have cooled off and wasn’t as angry anymore.

“Heeseung!” You gasped as he ravished your breasts with his tongue. This was all enough to get you ovulating, you swore to yourself.

“Come here…bad girl.”

You nod as he started to incorporate more force, aggression, and roughness as he lines himself to your center, all while placing one thigh on his hip as the other rested against his bicep, extending the leg up and over his shoulder. You were left wide open for him to take you…

He slides in, slowly. Sloooooooowly.

“Ah!! Heeseung!” You yell, gasping for air as your pants increases. He makes you watch as he continues to go in…slowly. When he finally was all in, he grinds his balls against your taint as he leans forward and fully hovers above you. “Let’s fuck the bad out and full you with some goodness.”

You furrow your brows in worry as you await for the ultimate pounding to occur. Fuck he is going to ruin you.

He slides out, the relief of the tight fullness dissipates as he gets all but the tip out, when suddenly….

“AHHH!!! FFFFUCK!!! SSSSTOP!!”

You can’t recall him ever going this brutal, it was as if he was starving for you. The only time you ever felt him this needy was when he took you for the first time. Thrusting, pounding, and reaching depths of your interior that was enough to make you drool and pass out, you lay mercilessly and took every bit of his thunder.

“Yeah? Fucking beg! Bad fucking girl, come on! Beg!” He grits out as the beads of sweat start to form on every inch of his smooth skin.

Screaming, crying, and panting, he gets you dumb-fucked until finally you reach that peak that took time to build up. Through all the pain and rough aggression, it finally pushed through and to his pleasure, you begged for him to keep going.

“Oh please! Please…don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop…fffffucking me!”

He smirks as he picks up the pace and goes faster. Your body bounces rigorously against the bedsheets as he slams into you. What a delightful scene it was to see you helplessly taking his cock and shifting in wild motion as he pumps you repeatedly. In fact, you were bouncing so much from the impact, he had to hold you by the neck to hold you steady as he enhanced momentum.

Gritting his teeth and flinging his head back, you watched as his naked body knelt before twitches while he releases. “Fuck!”

He pulsates and fills you, and for a moment the softness that came after had you thinking he was done…but he wasn’t.

The tightening of his grip around your neck said otherwise. His hips regain the thrusting motion, starting off slow and picking up pace. “Heeseung…no!” You gasp as the pleasure remained but the pain was starting to sting.

For who knows how long, he pelted you over and over again. Words in between of “let me enjoy this…” were harshly whispered into your ear as he changed positions and flipped you over, turn you onto your side, and even had you on top, while he still carried the rhythm and controlled the movements. Fucked left, right, up, and down, you realized that he was indeed punishing you as he went beyond in delivering overstimulation and pain.

By the time he released for the sixth or seventh time, you begged with barely any air in your lungs. “N-no more….p-ppplease….”

Your body was lifeless as he catches his breath. “Fuck that was better than I imagined.”

He quickly dresses, still somewhat sweaty which was surprising, considering he never really eluded such human traits. “I…I’m sssso-rry…sorry…”

You barely got it out of you but you managed to apologize, hoping that he would allow you to rest fully tonight. “Aw baby.” He whispers as he leans in and kisses you. His hand grabs hold of yours and he interlocks your fingers together as he massages the back of your palm. Breaking the kiss, he tells you…

“I’ll let him know. Wish I could stay, but I gotta get back to you.”

What?……

You didn’t have the energy to respond, but it suddenly clicked. The change in his aura, the sweat beads, and the way he ferociously fucked you with starved hunger in his eyes.

“H-Heeseung…” you gently spoke out as you recognized the figure from the incident. The one who belonged to the youngest version of your being. You watched as he smirked. “Wrong name baby.”

You looked him from the side as your hair is messily plastered to your face, and your body drained. You couldn’t even form the confused expression in your eye as he spoke his words. He smiled and there, you witnessed one inhuman trait among this man. His eyes darken, his grin becomes sinisterly devious as he bites down his bottom lip. “Be sure to name one of the kids after me. Little Ethan has a ring to it.”

He kisses you once more and takes his leave.

Moments later, he comes in…Helel. With an offensive smirk, he notes your exhausted body. You barely could move as you moaned, struggling to regain composure. Standing side the bed, you heard the disheveling spill of cloth as he sheds off his attire, piece by piece. You felt his hand grab you waist as he turns you fully over to your back as he crawls on top of you. Gently wiping the pieces of sweaty stands from your forehead, he admires your face as his fingers tap against your cheek and the corner of your lips.

Oh no….

“Now, let’s hear that apology, hm?” He smirks against your ear as he lines the tip to your worn and beaten entrance. “Let’s hear how sorry you REEEEEAALLY are.”

“Nnngh….nnmph!” You moaned as you struggled to gain a breath in, he’s pushing into you. Your legs begin to shiver and your spine jolts from the hypersensitivity levels that radiates from your core. “Now that I had some time to blow off some steam, I figure this is more than an appropriate time for you to show daddy how you’re going to make up for your mistake, hm? Let’s turn you back into a good girl again.”

The worst and best night of your entire afterlife. Two of the same men pile-driving you. So this is why he was so calm earlier…what a devious man he was. You knew you had already lost, and you were about to lose even more. Since that’s the case, you thought it be fitting to get a word in, knowing he wasn’t going to go easy, despite his demeanor.

“Ethan…”

“Pardon?” He widened his eyes as he lifts a stern brow. “N-next child….i brrrring in…name is…E-Ethan…”

He smirks. “Ah…Ethan. Right.” Kissing you, he pulls away as he pinches your chin. “If it’s a bunch of heathens you want, no problem. I can give you loads of them.” He snaps his fingers.

You saw them walk in. The sight put your breath on hold and caused your eyes to sting in despair as you watched each fine, nude form stand around the bed, stroking their cocks at the sight of you. “How about a godly descendant, a pair of twins, and a nations most wanted? Sounds like you’re eager to be a mommy again, and you know I aim to please you…darling.”

With a dark chuckle, he spoke as the others closed in.

“Let’s fuck her boys.”

No…NO! NOO!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

- Fin

Taglist: @enheene , aiden2001 , @heeseung-min , @lathan1510 , @rayofsunshineeee , @hoyeonheeseung , @rayofsunshineeee , @yohanabanana , @sunoosrightbuttcheek , @jaeneohee , @icydawon , @silcry , @iamliacamila , @nikstrange , @enheene ; @nuriicata , @en-happiness @lisaaannna @en-geneisaxx

[d34dlysinner]

Can you do one where Satan is fcking us in his demon form?👉👈?☺️

(Amazing. I assume you mean this with "his demon form"😭✨️🧎‍♀️)

"Wha-", was all you could say out of shock as you felt two unusually strong arms wrap around you.

"Satan?" You asked as you tried to turn your face towards him, but you stopped turning when you heard his deep voice get deeper: "I heard one of your little fantasies was something about a monster form. We should make that fantasy become reality." He said with a chuckle as you felt warm air being blown your direction.

The voice and the air was enough to make you shiver as you started thinking about his words.

"Monster form?...", you mumbled as you were turned around to see a big grey entity with a dangerous aura surrounding him holding you.

He stared down at you as his arms move to hold you tighter. "Are you ready?", he asked while chuckling at your stunned reaction. You could almost see his usual smug face he makes while always teasing you.

You nodded before challenging him. "I am ready, but are you?", you said looking up at him with a confident demeanor. He would burst out laughing as he always does when you make things interesting.

He lifted you up to kiss you deeply and you returned the gesture. You felt his long tongue intrude your mouth, fighting against yours. The passionate kiss turned into you softly biting his lip as a way to try and overpower him in the kiss. You could feel him smile in the kiss as his hands started to rip off your clothes, one of his hands hovering over the skin of your ass before giving it a spank. You gasped at the sudden impact resulting in you detaching from his lips, a string of saliva being the only thing that connected your lips. You felt him lick of the string before he moved down towards your neck, biting and sucking harshly on the skin, only pulling away from your neck to admire his work. He slowly pushed you towards the bed as he continued his work on your chest. You felt his hand roam towards your private area, teasing you by only grazing the skin down there.

You felt as if you would go insane if he continued this for a while longer so you tried to fight back by stimulating him. You grabbed his horns and started to slowly pump it, resulting in a low groan to be heard from him. "That's a cheap trick...", he says as he pulled away. He placed his fingers against your lips before pushing them into your mouth. You sucked around the fingers, swirling your tongue over them before he took them out of your mouth. You felt him place those fingers against your hole before he slowly pushed in, moving his fingers in and out. You felt every single digit move to different directions as he was preparing you to take his dick soon. You moaned softly, or you tried atleast, at the feeling of the big fingers moving inside of you until he started kissing you again. It felt as if he was devouring every moans you produced as he almost didn't allow you to breathe.

You panted as he pulled away for a second before capturing your lips again.

You felt dizzy at the stimulation and the lack of oxygen as your hands also started to travel too. You tried to wrap one hand around his dick, barely being able to make the tips of your fingers touch. You slowly pumped his dick, trying to match his rhythm. At times you'd tease him by softly tracing over the veins or the tip of his dick before you'd start pumping it again.

He noticed you slowly arching your back as you started to feel close to cumming, only to have the feeling disappear the moment he pulled his fingers out. You whimpered in protest and reached your hand down, trying to finish what he started. He stopped you from doing that by holding your wrists down. He eventually pulled away from your lips and hand before lining himself up with your hole. "Seeing how you're so desperate to cum I'll just make it easy for you.", he said in a teasing tone as he pushed his tip against your hole. You moved against his dick asking him to push into you. He chuckled his hand letting go of your wrists to hold your legs. He pushed your legs towards your chest and pushed in slowly. You gasped at the size as you started to feel full. "I'm not fully in... stay relaxed.", he groaned as he felt you tense up. The feeling of your tight hole making him dig his nails into your legs as a loud moan left his lips. He continued to try and push in the rest of his length without hurting you too much. You felt his balls press against you for a second before he started to thrust into you softly. You moaned softly as you felt his pace quicken resulting you to become louder with every thrust.

The bed started to creak softly. He bends down, pushing you into a mating press. His claws gripping the mattress beside your head.

You'd hear him growl softly with every thrust as he kept his pace steady. He stared down at you as if he's observing you. You started to feel close again only to be teased again by him pulling out as rubbing his dick against your leg. You started to tear up at being denied from cumming.

"Don't stop-...", you say as you tried to rub against him. He chuckled as he kept you down as he rubbed against your hole again.

You were so close at release that you started asking him 'nicely' "Can you continue?... I want to finish. Satan-", you asked as you felt him continuing to tease him. He kept silent and looked at you as if he was trying to mock you for being so well behaved. It started to annoy you.

You tried fighting against his grip. Pushing your hands against the massive shoulders, but he didn't budge. You tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let you go. "Satan. Continue." You started to demand in annoyance, but he only chuckled as a response. You glared up at him as you spankee him to try and get another reaction out of him. He just smiled as if he was watching a good show unfold before him.

"Satan you don't continue I'll Agh-", you were interrupted by him pushing himself in again this time thrusting harshly with an insane smile on his face. "You're cute when you're angry.", he said laughing.

He watched you frown up at him as he continued pushing in and out of you. The sound of his balls slapping against your skin almost echoing in the room. You felt close again and tried to wrap your legs around his waist, not wanting him to escape again.

He was still smiling down at you and you started to become suspicious. "Don't you dare pull out again.", you said to which he responded with: "I'm not going to."

You looked at him in confusion at the way he said those words, that's when you felt something else filling you up. You came soon after and gasped at the sensation as your legs tried to close. "That's not going to happen... are you ready to take all of me?", he says playfully, but you could notice that he was being serious about his words.

You trembled when he slowly started to thrust again. "Are you ready to take all of me?", he asked again sounding demanding for a proper answer.

"Yes-", was all you could mutter before he started plowing into you harshly again.

He chuckled at your shock which was accompanied with a loud moan. Your mind started going hazy with pleasure as you tried to pull him down again for another heated kiss.

"Greedy for more?", he teased before he returned your kiss.

[wordsarelife]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: you agree to theo’s ask, on your on terms, and the tension continues to rise

warnings: height difference mentioned, i have zero idea how to play a guitar or how hard certain songs are to play so just act like anything i say is the truth haha

notes: i really love them so much! i haven’t been inspired by writing in such a long time! i hope you like it as much as i do!!

previous part | masterlist | next part

you had wiped away the tears as soon as you had walked out of the hospital, straightening your back and thinking about which direction would be smarter to walk in.

you would come home no matter what, this small town was basically a circle, it was just the question of which way would be faster. you weren't keen on walking longer than necessary.

"forgot the way home?" a voice beside you made your head turn.

"what do you want?" you asked annoyed as you saw theo walk closer to you "i'm leaving, okay? you don't have to try to get rid of me anymore"

"pixie, i didn't mean it like that" he sighed and tried to touch your arm, but you turned your body away from him.

"i know exactly how you meant that" you protested "and i don't know what you still want now. you won, okay? you won ages ago, but you're the one who always picks a fight"

"pixie" theo muttered and you could hear the regret in his voice.

"don't call me that"

"y/n" he said and you looked up in surprise. you couldn't remember when your name had last left his mouth. "i'm sorry"

you raised your eyebrows. "you're sorry?" you repeated, almost laughing. "i don't think i ever heard you say that before"

you wanted to go home, so you just decided on a random direction and started walking, to your luck, theo was following you.

"okay, get to the point, nott" you demanded "what do you want from me?"

theo sighed once again, understanding that there was no way he could trick you into agreeing, he just had to ask. "i need your help, i mean, we need your help"

"you need my help?" you repeated skeptically. "is that one of your awful pranks again?"

"no" theo shook his head. "i promise it's not"

"okay, then lets hear what you need"

"enzo can't play the concert"

"i know as much"

"yeah, sorry" theo brushed a hand through his hair, unsure how he should ask you.

"there is that word again" you pointed a finger to his face. he gently pushed your hand away. "i could get used to this"

"yeah, don't flatter yourself" theo mumbled aggravated.

"there he is" you laughed sarcastically.

"we need a guitarist" theo came straight to the point "april says you play.." he paused, unsure how to finish his sentence "good"

"you want me to play guitar for you?"

"not for me" theo tried to rephrase it "for the band, the boys"

"why should i do that?"

"i know you hate me, pixie. but you don't hate them, do you?" he almost sounded like he was pleading.

"thanks to you i'm not really friends with them anymore, theo" you remarked bitterly "they were my friends just as much as yours and they still sided with you"

"it's my fault, okay?" theo said helplessly "is it that what you want to hear? that i was childish enough to poison your relationships?"

"that's just it, theo" you shook your head "i don't want to hear anything from you anymore, but you keep on talking, keep on writing songs. why can't you let go of things?"

"you know i need to write to cope"

"yeah, i know" you nodded your head "but anytime i hear one of your stupid songs it physically hurts. you might be able to cope through your writing, but i will never be able to do that"

"it's one song, pixie" theo rolled his eyes.

"so you admit that you wrote pixie dream girl about me?"

"that's not the point" theo argued.

"oh, yes it is" you laughed, while you quickened your steps, so theo had it harder to keep up with you, even if he was taller.

"okay, fine" theo sighed "pixie dream girl is about you"

"i know" you smiled "what about daddy issues?"

theo send you a painful look, almost as if you were torturing him with your question.

"do you want me to play guitar or not?"

"daddy issues is about you too" he finally muttered.

"thank you. now, was that so hard?"

theo send you a look. “will you help us?”

"i'll think about it" you patted theo's shoulder, before you continued walking away. he thankfully caught the hint and stayed where he was.

"not too long" he called behind you and you just raised your hand, showing him your middle finger.

✦•〰〰〰〰〰★🎸☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

theo ran into april when he walked back to enzo's room.

"you're leaving already?" he asked surprised.

"yeah" april shrugged "i want to look after y/n and enzo's coming out this evening, i'll come back to his then"

"okay"

"what did she say?"

"she'll think about it"

"she didn't say no?" april wondered and theo shook his head "huh, i thought she would, after everything.." she shook her head, as if to get rid of that thought "you should feel lucky, theo"

"i do" he quickly nodded. "see you, april"

"bye, theo"

✦•〰〰〰〰〰★🎸☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

you were staring at the ceiling as the sudden sound of the door made you look up.

"hey" april smiled, as she closed your door behind her "your mum let me in"

"did she get up for once" you nodded with fake impress.

"y/n" april sighed and you could hear the pity in her voice.

"don't" you shook your head and effectively shut her up "how's enzo? how much longer does he have to stay in the hospital?"

"he's coming home tonight" she let herself fall on the chair in the corner of your room. "maybe you want to come and visit him with me later?"

"after everything that happened today? i'll pass, but thank you"

"enzo promised that it'll be just him and mattheo"

you sighed "i'll think about it"

"i really see no reason why you and the rest of the boys just can't stay friends, y/n"

"theo is the reason we can't" you noted "i think it's better for all of us if we keep a distance between us"

"that's gonna be hard if you play for his band"

you sighed deeply "you're in on this too?"

"actually it was enzo's and my idea" she admitted as she looked anywhere but you "you're the only one who is as good as him and you're able to play most of the notes"

"yeah" you sank back down "but i don't know if i really want to. i mean theo is still theo, he can try to be nice all he wants, but he will never get out of his skin"

"the rest of the boys will make sure that he behaves himself" april promised "mattheo told me himself"

"mattheo told me the same today and you know how it ended"

"sometimes you two are a real mystery to me" she muttered "you know each other so well, well enough to know which buttons to push. he can make you cry with only a few words, it's scary"

"you said it" you pointed your hand in her direction "he never knows when it's enough"

"and you do?" she laughed "you're just as bad as him. you should've seen the look in his eyes as soon as you left the room. it's like you both can't be with or without the other"

"i don't know what you're talking about" you shook your head.

"you always say that you just want him to stop speaking to you, but i can see how much you enjoy these discussions, even if you're just fighting. you missed him and this is the only way you can spend time with him"

"that's not true, april"

"yes it is, sweetheart" april said softly "why don't you just tell him that you miss being his friend? everything could just go back to normal, if just one of you makes the first step"

"it's not as easy" you argued "too much happened, things you don't know, things i can't speak about. it's too late to rekindle anything"

"y/n, if it's about le-"

"please just let it go"

"okay" she nodded, accepting your wish "but what are you going to do? will you help them?"

"yes" you nodded "i mean the rest of the boys didn't do anything, right? and i don't want to poision your and enzo's relationship before it even began"

april smiled while her cheeks turned bright red "i hate you" she laughed and you just shrugged, before you stood up from the bed and took the blog, writing a message for theo.

i'll do it. but only under certain conditions. mattheo will receive the list later

"happy?" you asked april, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"yes" she giggled "now let's sort out your conditions"

it didn't take you long to come up with the things that had to change for you to start helping them. april had, surprisingly, a few ideas herself, (april is allowed to watch the rehearsals), making your list three points long.

you accompanied her later to visit enzo, which was, admittedly, a bit unnecessary considering she had already visited him in the hospital, but it seemed like both her and enzo deemed it important for his survival.

luckily, april had been right. it had only been enzo and mattheo. they both were smiling widely as you told them that you would help. enzo promised you to be there for every rehearsal (let alone because april would be) to help you learn the songs the way he played them.

mattheo seemed to enjoy the way you were nicer to him when theo wasn't around. you had always liked him, he was easy to get along with, but the last year you had learned not to enjoy his teasing and joking personality. you apologized for the day before, realizing that you had been quite harsh and that he really thought you would find the song funny.

maybe you would’ve had, but a lot had changed and mattheo understood that you couldn't find humour in it right now.

they promised to show your list to the rest of the band and tell you in school how and when rehearsals would start.

april and you left after two hours and you could tell she was beaming. in her opinion, playing in the band meant that all of you would be friends again and the hope alone was enough for her.

✦•〰〰〰〰〰★🎸☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

"here it is" mattheo held the folded piece of paper in theo's direction.

"be honest, mate" theo said "is it manageable?"

"it is" enzo said. he was sitting on the stone wall in the middle of draco and blaise. mattheo was standing next to theo in front of them.

"okay" theo sighed, before he unfolded the paper. "y/n's conditions under which she will safe theo's petty little-" he held the paper in mattheo's direction "i'm not reading this"

mattheo giggled, before he cleared his throat as soon as theo send him a look. "y/n's conditions under which she will safe theo's petty little-"

"you can skip the beginning" theo interrupted "just get to the point"

"fine" mattheo rolled his eyes "rule one: april is allowed to watch the rehearsals"

"yeah, fine, whatever" theo nodded, while enzo was practically jumping up and down. "anyone has a problem with that?" the three other shook their heads and mattheo continued reading.

"rule two: theo is civil”

“can you do that?” enzo wanted to know and theo nodded reluctantly.

“okay and the final rule: we can’t play pixie dream girl”

“sounds alright” blaise shrugged.

“what do you say theo?” draco asked as he noticed the priors facial expression.

“we can’t do the third one” theo explained between clenched teeth.

“what?” enzo asked “why not?”

“when i talked to mr fraser on the phone i showed it to him and he made me promise that it’s one of the tracks we play”

“okay” mattheo shrugged “then you just call him and tell him that we can’t play it”

“he said it’s important that we play it because it’ll impress his boss. we got many streams on the song and it’ll make us stand out against the other bands”

“fuck” draco jumped from the stone wall. “can’t you find a way to play?”

“yeah” enzo shrugged "i'll just play with my feet, no problem, draco”

“let’s all calm down” blaise said, trying to diffuse the situation.

"it's seems important to her that we don't play the song" enzo remarked.

"yeah" mattheo muttered.

"okay, what if we just not tell her? i mean six weeks is a long time, maybe she'll say yes when we ask her later?" blaise suggested.

"that might not be the worst idea" mattheo nodded "maybe if we'll be able to be friends again, she might play the song"

"it's worth a try, right?" draco asked in theo's direction.

"i don't know" enzo shook his head "she will absolutely hate us when she finds out we lied to her. she'll feel betrayed"

"it's just a song" draco crossed his arms "what's her problem?"

"i am" theo shrugged "and the song reminds her of that. fuck" he groaned.

"what do we do, boss?" mattheo asked "do we lie to her? she might understand it once we tell her it was our only chance"

"i tell her we accept her rules" theo nodded as he gripped the paper from mattheo "not one word from any of you, you hear me? this is our only chance to get that stupid record deal and if it means to work with the enemy we will do that"

"the enemy" mattheo rolled his eyes "you're getting dramatic again, theodore"

"you know what i mean"

before anyone could agree to his terms, april and you walked up behind the boys.

"hey" april greeted and immediately stepped into the emptys space next to enzo where draco had sat.

"hi" you said, a lot less happy "how does it look?"

"we accept your rules" theo nodded "rehearsals are every tuesday, thursday and saturday at five. we have to rehearse a lot if we want that record deal"

"great" you nodded "how much time will we have on stage?"

"fourty-five minutes" theo answered "i'd say we try to rehearse all ten songs before we decide on those that we want to play"

"not including pixie dream girl, right?"

"right" he nodded.

"great" you smiled "then we have a deal" you held your hand in his direction, so you could finalize everything with a handshake.

"yes" theo nodded "do you have a guitar or do you need enzo's?"

"i have one" you nodded, before you excused yourself, so you would be on time for your first class of the day.

the next time that you saw all of them was during the first official rehearsal on saturday. you had spent the entire friday searching for old notes forba few of the songs that you still owned somewhere. theo had given you the missing ones when you had stood in front of his door in the evening and you had tried to play as much as possible and it was admittedly not working bad.

"hey" you greeted the boys when april and you walked into the garage. april slumped down on the couch next to enzo as if someone had held a gun in her direction and you looked between draco and blaise. "where should i stand?"

blaise directed you to the empty space next to the microphone stand.

"where are matt and theo?" april asked and you perked up. you would have rather died than asked yourself, but you were still wondering.

"they're on their way" draco answered "mattheo made a few cds to hand out to people and they are getting them right now"

"cool" april nodded impressed.

"you're only now making cds?" you asked surprised "isn't that like one of the first things bands normally do?”

"generally, yeah" enzo nodded "but in a time like this, most people only listen on streaming platforms so we never really saw the need for it"

"now that we're getting more known, it's more professional" blaise added.

"okay" you nodded "i get it"

"bonjourno" mattheo waved as soon as him and theo entered the room a few minutes later.

"french?" enzo wondered.

"that's italian, sweetheart" you could hear april mutter next to him. you giggled into your hand as you noticed the lovesick look enzo was now sending in her direction.

"you're so smart, april"

"are you ready?" theo asked you, once he took his stance behind the microphone.

"sure" you shrugged, before you took the guitar and plugged it in.

"we'll start with blood//water. the notes should be relatively easy to play"

theo counted and pointed in your direction as soon as it was time for the guitar part to set in. just shortly after, theo began singing. you of course had heard him sing before. you had listened to the songs, but you had never heard him so clear, so raw.

we'll never get free lamb to the slaughter what you gon' do when there's blood in the water? the price of your greed is your son and your daughter what you gon' do when there's blood in the water?

you switched your fingers, picking up the pace of the melody as soon as the pre-chorus set in again. mattheo was changing between playing the bass and clapping his hands. draco was making quick movements on the keyboard, changing the setting to let it make different sound effects and blaise was hitting the drums so hard, your ears almost blew off.

but despite all that you could only focus on theo and the sound of his voice. the way it looked so effortless and hard at the same time. as the pre-chorus ended and the chorus set in, he was full on screaming into the microphone, the veins on his neck showing the strength his voice was using.

i am the people, i am the storm i am the riot, i am the swarm when the last tree's fallen the animal can't hide money won't solve it what's your alibi? what's your alibi? what's your alibi?

when there's blood in the water

when the song ended, april began to clap. "that was amazing!" she complimented "blood//water is my favorite song on the album"

"thank you" mattheo smiled "you were really great, y/n"

"thanks" you nodded "i think this one is one of the easier chord compressions"

"the next song would be daddy issues" theo looked in your direction expectingly.

"do we have to play that one?" you asked "i mean it's so slow and you won't probably play it anyway"

"she has a point" mattheo shrugged.

"i think we should play all the songs" theo argued "so that we can change the setlist until the last minute"

"good point" blaise nodded.

"come on, guys" enzo, who saw the discomfort on your face added "y/n is right, it's way too slow"

"boss?" mattheo looked to theo.

"we should at least play it this once" you sighed as you noticed that theo wasn't going to budge.

"okay" mattheo nodded "you ready? i think the chords are quite easy for this one too"

you were looking straight across the room, but nodded at his words.

theo counted again and you started playing the chords on the paper in front of you. maybe this wasn't as bad as you thought. you would just have to concentrate and blend out theo as much as possible.

take you like a drug i taste you on my tongue

theo's voice almost made you shiver. you moved your fingers along the guitar.

and you might have to tell me again it's crazy what you'll do for a friend

you had listened to the song about a million times after it had come out, but now it was like you were hearing it for the first time. and the softness in theo's voice was going to break your heart, you were sure.

you didn't know if the rest of the boys knew the song was about. you were guessing that only enzo was slowly getting the idea, as he was the only one who had noticed how uncomfortable you had gotten once theo mentioned it.

you doubted that the others new. theo wasn't one to run around and tell everyone what the meaning behind his songs were. you were sure they knew only half the things theo knew and you were glad for that.

go ahead and cry, little girl nobody does it like you do i know how much it matters to you i know that you got daddy issues

you thought back to days in the backyard of your house. how theo came climbing up into the treehouse and would just sit next to you for hours.

when you felt brave you would cry in his lap, but sometimes you weren't able to and theo understood you in a way that no one else did.

he had brushed your hair aside, whispering about the future, wonderland, something that did not sound like it could be real, at least not to you.

he told stories about a world in which your dad was better. a world in which he loved you as much as you loved him, as much as he loved-

go ahead and cry, little boy you know that your daddy did too you know what your mama went through you gotta let it out soon, just let it out

maybe there had been a time where he hadn't planned to use that song against you. a time where he wanted to show it to you so it could console you and your pain. now it just felt like ammunition in an ongoing war.

you were still staring at the wall across from you as a few tears slipped over your cheeks.

and if you were my little girl i'd do whatever I could do i'd run away and hide with you i know that you got daddy issues

you took off the guitar as soon as the song had ended, breathing a shaky breath. "could we take a break?" you asked theo, who, if you weren't mistaken, looked a bit guilty now that he saw the look on your face.

"sure" mattheo answered, while theo continued to stare at you. "are you alright?" he touched your shoulder and it took everything in you not to start full on crying at the gentleness in his voice.

"let's sit down" draco sighed.

"do you want to see the cd?" mattheo smiled and you nodded as you quickly wiped over your eyes.

he held it in your direction and you smiled as you recognized the cover that they had used on spotify. "it looks amazing"

"turn it around" mattheo advised and you did as you were told.

your breath hitched as you saw the photo on the back.

theo cleared his throat at the lack of reaction from you "that's"

"leo" you finished "i know" your fingers gently moved over the boys back. you recognized the white shirt, the black trousers and the bracelet on his left arm. you were wearing a matching one.

"the photo is from last year" mattheo explained "from when theo and leo wrote most of the songs. i thought it would be the perfect one to show who we are"

"it is" you nodded "thank you" you looked up at mattheo and he gulped as he noticed the tears in your eyes. you held the cd in his direction before you stood up. "i need a breath of fresh air"

you walked out of the garage and sat down on the bench in front of the lake. you sat there for ten minutes before you decided it was time to return back inside. 

mattheo had told his friends to settle down and end the rehearsal for today, much to theo's dismay, who basically tried to kill you with his eyes when you came back inside. 

"i don't get why we have to stop" theo muttered "we only got through two songs. what got your knickers in a twist, huh?" he turned his head to look at you, but instead of rushing away, you returned his angry look. 

"you" you said with a roll of your eyes "the rule was to be civil and you're acting like an idiot, theodore" 

theo laughed at that and you were even more angry. 

"fuck you, mr rockstar" you held up your middle finger. 

"i'd love to see you try, miss stuck up" 

you looked at april betrayed when you heard her giggle. 

"even your friend agrees with me" your head snapped to the side. 

you stepped closer to the boy, until you were only a few centimeters apart. the others watched you with big eyes. "do you want to repeat that, darling?"

you could see theo gulp at the proximity, before he quickly caught himself and smirked down at you. "are you trying to kiss me, baby?" 

"no, but seems like you are thinking about kissing me, sweetheart"

mattheo sighed loudly and both you and theo turned your heads, only realizing now that you were the center of attention. 

"that was kinda hot" blaise muttered under his breath and was immediately elbowed by draco, who did not take his eyes off of theo and you. 

"shut up" theo said quickly and you had the sudden need to defend blaise, just because it would get a rise out of theo. 

"seems like your friend agrees with me" you crossed your arms and smiled provocatively "you totally have the hots for me" 

"i hate you"

"finally something we can agree on" you grinned, before you turned around and grabbed your bag. "bye" 

the rest of the group said goodbye while they were still astounished at how you had basically won a fight against theo. 

"oh shut up" theo said quickly, when you had left the room and blaise opened his mouth. 

taglist:

@7s3ven @madi-potter @shereadsandcries @getosbeloved @mischieftom @wolfstar-jpg @t00thfairy20 @chcrrysblog @aestramjackson @elina3011 @kr1nqu @hopeless-y @mitskiswift99 @fallingblackveils @ahead-fullofdreams @helendeath @schaebickel @chubbychasermattheotruther @punkprincess03 @subparslytherin @girlbooklover555 @sakanelli-afc @cobrakaisb @ellen3101

[sweethischier]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥 | 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

word count: 5.9k

warnings: idk some angst, misunderstanding, swearing, drinking, kissing

note: im not like super happy with this but oh well! this is my first time writing for the nhl so dont judge toooooo harshly lol. request more if you'd like!

The sun filtered through the cracks in the curtains, gently stirring you from your peaceful dream, eliciting a quiet groan as you were quite enjoying said dream. You dragged the blanket over your head in an attempt to go back to sleep, but that proved worthless as you heard Jack shout your name from down the hall. You could hear his footsteps nearing your room, and you tightened the grip you had on the blanket so that he wasn’t able to rip it off as easily. You just wanted to stay in bed a little longer and then maybe you would get up.

“C’mon, sunshine. Time to get up,” He laughed as he managed to pull the blanket off your body. The way you were curled up in a ball as you tried to shield yourself from the sunlight made his heart swell, but it was a sensation he was used to when it came to you.

For the last six years of his life, you had been present for anything major in his life. Sometimes it was over facetime, but you had still always made time for him and he made time for you. When you had finished college a year early and worked yourself into multiple panic attacks a day because you were scared about what you were going to do from there, it was Jack who suggested you move to Jersey with him. It was Jack who helped you get on your feet and start your career.

In turn, he got to have you there with him. You were there at every home game, smile wide and eyes bright as you cheered him and his team on. You were there to comfort him when he felt like he had let everyone down because had an off game. Nails scratching his scalp as you let him rant about how he felt like he was under too much pressure. He was there for you, too. He was there when you felt like a failure and nothing was going in the right direction. More importantly, you were both there for each other when everything did go right, and that was when Jack felt himself start to fall in love with his best friend.

“Go away,” You whined, “It’s too early to be awake.”

Jack gently grabbed your arms that were covering your face and pulled them down so he could see you. Your eyes were squeezed shut and your nose was scrunched, refusing to welcome the daylight without a fight. “It’s nearly 11:30. Luke and I are already back from morning skate,” He teased, thumbs softly tracing circles on your arms.

You peeked at him through your barely open eyes, meeting his own as he waited for you to get out of bed. You were never able to resist his pleading eyes and childlike pout, and it was quite pathetic just how easy you caved when it came to the boy in front of you. All he needed to do was breathe around you and you would do whatever he asked, but of course he didn’t know that. That was a secret you intended to keep in order to maintain the best friendship you’ve ever had. 

“I hate you,” You grumbled, ignoring the way his touch lit your skin on fire. The action wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but it made you silently yearn for more all the same.

“No you don’t. Now let’s go or I’ll go get Trevor and we’ll drag you out of bed.”

You let Jack pull you out of your very comfortable bed, and followed him down the hall to the kitchen where Trevor and Luke were bickering over Lord knows what. You sleepily sulked behind your best friend, wanting nothing more than to turn around and go back to bed. The boys had kept you up until nearly four in the morning catching up, and arguing about whose hockey team was the better of the two.

“Y/N,” Trevor’s smile beamed once he took notice of your presence. He left his dispute with Luke and wrapped his arms around you in a hug that nearly crushed you. 

“Trevor, you literally saw me last night,” You feigned annoyance as you wrapped your arms around his neck to return his affection.

Luke watched as his brother’s body tensed; jaw clenching, fists briefly balling into fists, and eyes narrowing in on his two best friends. The nineteen year old rolled his eyes at his brother's obvious, and unearned, jealousy. He lightly slapped Jack on the shoulder, breaking his attention away from the two of you, and raised his eyebrows as he silently asked what was up. Jack rolled his eyes at his younger brother before turning to find something to eat for you.

Trevor knew what he was doing, but he wasn’t doing it because he was trying to be mean. He was trying to motivate Jack to get his head out of his ass and finally admit that he had feelings for you. Making him jealous probably wasn’t the best idea, but none of his other ideas had worked. His encouraging talks had only frustrated Jack, so he was taking a different approach for his short visit in New Jersey. 

“Thank you, J,” You smiled up at Jack as he placed the bowl of cereal on the dining room table you had to beg the boys to get. Jack knew that, even though it was nearing lunch time, you had just woken up and you were going to want breakfast.

“You guys are too cute,” Trevor couldn’t help but tease, falling into the chair on the opposite side of the table, “You need to put us all out of your misery and just date each other.”

“Seriously, Trev? How many times do I need to tell you that we’re just friends and that’s all we will be,” Jack clipped, giving his friend a warning glare as he walked back into the kitchen.

Despite knowing that Jack only ever thought of you as his best friend, the way he said that made your face fall and your chest tighten. You kept your eyes trained on the table in front of you as you blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. Trevor glanced between Jack and you, eyes filled with worry and guilt once he noticed the way you refused to look up and how red your cheeks were.

“So,” Luke started, trying to diffuse the obvious tension, “You coming to the game, Trev? I know Y/N is because she wants to see Barzal.” Luke also knew what he was doing, and he was doing it to be mean.

Trevor let out a laugh as you defended, “Excuse me, I go to all of your home games! Being able to see Mat Barzal is just a bonus.”

The sound of a cabinet aggressively slamming shut made all three of your heads turn to the kitchen where Jack stood with his back turned to everyone. He mumbled an irritated apology before he finally decided to take the seat next to you. Luckily, Luke’s change in topic was enough to stop yourself from crying, but Jack mistook your reddened cheeks for a blush that was elicited by the mention of the Isles center.

“As long as you’re wearing a Devil’s jersey, look at whoever you want.”

“Why wouldn’t she wear a Devils jersey,” Jack spoke, voice laced with a hint of panic at the thought of you wearing the other team's jersey.

“Because she’s in love with Barzal. C’mon Jack, keep up.”

“Okay, first of all, she is right here and she is not in love with Mat Barzal, he’s just very nice to look at,” You gave the two boys across from you a pointed look before passing a soft glance at Jack, “And I’m wearing a Devils jersey like I do every game.”

The conversation fell back to a less awkward strained topic and the uneasiness between you and Jack faded until it was normal again. The boys still have a few hours left before they have to head back to The Rock for the game, so you all opted to hang out and watch TV before then so they could relax. You were pressed into Jack’s side, his arm slung around the back of the couch as they talked.

It was the small moments like this that made you feel like Jack liking you back was possible. The way that he would pull you back close to him if you scooted even an inch away from him. The way that he would subconsciously trace patterns on your skin because he had to keep himself occupied in some sort of way. It made you feel hopeful, but you were quick to bring yourself back to the heart shattering reality that it meant nothing to him.

To Jack, though, these moments were everything.

-

“Y/N,” Jack’s voice was soft as he knocked on your door, “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” You called out, filtering through your clothes to find something to wear tonight.

Jack was anxious; his heart beating out of his chest and hands slightly shaking as he walked into your room with a piece of fabric in his grasp. He had a jersey with his own name and number on the back , and he was going to ask you if you would wear it tonight. He wanted something that labeled you as his even if you weren’t. Yet.

“What’s up,” You turned to face him, eyes briefly darting down to the jersey in his hand.

“I know you wear just a plain jersey to the games because you don’t want me or Luke to feel left out, but do you maybe want to wear my jersey tonight? It’s totally okay if you don’t want to! Actually, you know what- forget I asked. It was stupid,” Jack rushed out, panic clearly written everywhere on his body as he started to rush away.

“Jack,” You grabbed his hand before he could run away, “I would love to wear your jersey.” You’re not quite sure what exactly possessed Jack to give you one of his jerseys, but you were absolutely not going to say no. To you, the gesture meant everything. A step in the right direction.

Jack searched your face for any sort of doubt, but all he saw was the same small smile and sparkling eyes he saw every time he looked at you. Every part of him wanted nothing more than to kiss you and tell you that he was yours and you were his. Not Mat Barzal’s.

Painfully aware of how close the two of you were, butterflies swarmed your stomach. The way he was looking at you made your heart soar into the clouds and hope filled your veins as you let yourself drift to the possibility that maybe he did feel the same way you had for the last few years. 

“You better get going. Don’t want you to be late,” You whispered, suddenly feeling sheepish because you swear you saw his eyes glance at your lips for a few seconds.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll see you at the game.” With a chaste kiss on the cheek, he was out the door, leaving you there to overthink the entire interaction.

-

You and Trevor had found your seats, and it was just the two of you since Ellen and Jim were at Quinn’s game. You watch as the team warms up, and, no matter how hard you tried not to, you found yourself mainly focusing on Jack. The way he glides across the ice never fails to amaze you. He belongs out there.

“Nice jersey,” Trevor commented, eyes staying trained on the ice with a sly smirk on his face.

“Shut up,” You rolled your eyes, “He asked me if I wanted to wear it so I said yes, but I’m not sure why- Oh my god, look! It’s Mat!” You gripped Trevor’s bicep as you squealed and subtly pointed at the man who just stepped out onto the ice. 

“That’s why,” He shook his head, “Your comment about how sexy Barzy is made him all jealous and moody.”

“Oh, whatever. He doesn’t care about that,” You dismissed as you broke away from the teams to look at Trevor.

“Is that why he’s looking at him like he wants to slam him into the boards before the game even starts,” He nodded his head towards Jack.

Jack had looked in your direction as soon as he heard the Isles come out, and he wished that he hadn’t. The way your face lit up as you pointed at Barzal made his skin crawl and his chest burn with jealousy. He was standing off to the side with Nico as he tried to go over some of their game plans, but his eyes were now focused on number 13 on the opposing team. He tried to not let his personal life interfere with what he did on the ice, but he’s not so sure that was possible tonight.

The first period was aggressive, to say the least. The Devils were down by one and Jack spent his fair share of time in the sin bin for boarding a certain Isles player. Luckily, all of his penalties were minors so he was still able to play in the game, but you’re not so sure the refs would keep letting him off if he continued the stunts he was pulling.

“Trevor,” Your voice was laced with anxiety as Luke pulled Jack away before he initiated an actual fight and got another penalty. You know hockey is an aggressive sport, but you’ve never seen Jack play like this.

“It’s okay. It’s not all his fault,” He tried to comfort you as your grip on his hand tightened, “They’re starting to play just as dirty. Hopefully intermission will calm everyone down.”

You nervously bit at your nails and lip throughout the rest of the game. Both teams were still being unnecessarily hostile, but it wasn’t as bad as the first period. In the end, Jack managed to get the winning shot, and the cheers that erupted shook The Rock. You threw your arms around Trevor's neck as you let out a breath of relief; thankful that the agonizingly long game ended in their favor.

You and Trevor waited for both Hughes boys, talking about what exactly the plan was going to be tonight. He, of course, wanted to go out and celebrate their win, but you weren’t entirely sure if the boys would still be up for it after the game that they had. Players startled to slowly trickle out of the locker room; most of them stopping to talk to Trevor before they went on their way.

You were engrossed in a conversation with Dawson and Trevor when Luke finally came out of the locker room. He makes a playful glance at your jersey, wiggling his eyebrows as you ignore him and ask him about how he feels like the game went. He goes on about how he wasn’t super proud of their performance due to the obvious, but he was happy that they came out on top despite that. You beamed about how proud you are of him, and then you saw Jack coming out of the locker room.

His damp hair stuck to his forehead and you could see the faint start of a nasty bruise on his left cheek. He looked defeated and annoyed, and that was enough to tell you that he got an earful from Lindy and the media asked the wrong questions. He hated talking to them in general, and he especially hated it when he played like he did. You wanted nothing more than to pull him in and comfort him like you used to often, before Luke moved in.

With an encouraging shove from Luke, you met Jack in the middle and immediately pulled him into your chest. He was quick to wrap his arms around your waist, drawing you in closer than you already were. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, wanting the moment to last forever if it was possible. You didn’t mind the wetness on your skin, but the way Jack was hugging you was not making anything easy for you. He held you like you were the only thing grounding him to Earth.

“You played like shit,” You quietly teased as you forced yourself to pull away from him before you read too much into it.

“Maybe, but we still beat ‘em. Guess Barzal isn’t that great after all,” He slightly puffed his chest out before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and walking to the others.

You furrowed your eyebrows at his last comment, and it made you wonder if you saying that you found Mat Barzal attractive really did upset him. After the way he played towards him, it would make perfect sense. Still, you can’t piece together just why that would bother him enough to make him let it out on the ice like that. You weren’t naive enough to believe that it meant that Jack was jealous because he had feelings for you. You’re positive that it was something else. It had to be.

After everyone had agreed on a bar to meet up at, they all went separate ways to go back home and quickly change. You and the boys knew you were going to go out already, so you were all dressed and ready to go. Once you were in the car, you peeled the Devil’s jersey off you to reveal the red tank top underneath.

“Damn girl,” Trevor whistled, eyes shamelessly darting down to your exposed cleavage.

You playfully smacked him in the chest and rolled your eyes, neatly folding the jersey and placing it in the middle seat of the car. Jack cast a stormy glare back at Trevor, who shrugged and gave his best friend an innocent smile.

“Bye, Lukey,” You leaned over the center console to kiss his cheek, “Next year you can join us and not have to be the driver.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He rolled his eyes, “Give’s me time to sleep without you all bothering me. Have fun and call me if you need me to come get you.”

The three of you pushed your way into the loud and crowded bar. Jack quickly announced that he was going to hit the bathroom and he would meet the two of you at the bar. You gently held the back of Trevor’s shirt as he led you through the horde of people. You got the bartender's attention and ordered a round of shots for the three of you, but when you had turned back to Trevor, he was already engaged in a flirty conversation with a pretty blonde girl. 

Letting out a quiet chuckle, you moved your attention back to the bar. You waited a few more minutes for Jack to come back, but he had yet to make his reappearance. Deciding you were going to see if you could spot him, you placed your hands on the sticky counter, feet planting themselves on the footrest of the barstool to stand and look around the bar. Your eyes bounced across the sea of people in search of Jack, but when your eyes landed on him you felt the entire floor come out from underneath you.

There he was; leaning against a wall with his stupid bright, perfect smile plastered on his face as a girl animatedly talked to him. Every breath you took as you watched them felt like razor blades slicing into every inch of your body and your heart ached like it never had before. Blinking back a wave of tears, you downed the three shots in front of you. They were slightly warm, but the burning sensation they brought to you was a feeling you welcomed with open arms.

“Woah there, Y/N,” Nico’s deep, slightly accented voice cut through the loud music.

“Nico,” You cheered, pulling him into your side for a hug, “You did so good tonight.”

“Thank you,” He lightly laughed, hand staying on your back to steady you as you teetered on the stool, “Your boy was playing a little dirty tonight.”

Nico didn’t miss the way you stiffened at the mention of Jack, and he pulled his brows together in confusion. He had seen the two of you in an intimate hug right before he had left, so he assumed that things had developed between the two of you. While you ordered another two shots, the captain looked around for his teammate. He let out an understanding breath once he found him, still in deep conversation with the girl you had seen.

“Y/N,” Nico tried, “Are you o-”

“I’m going to dance,” You interrupted before he could ask the one question that was certainly going to bring you to tears.

Nico sighed, but he had been around you enough to know that you were not the type of person to push. That was a recipe for disaster. Instead, he opted to keep a close eye on you in case something were to happen. 

You lost count of how many drinks you had at about five drinks, but you’re certain that you were past your limit. Sweat covered bodies bumped into your own as you danced to the loud music, ignoring the bleeding pain in your chest. You refused to look in Jack’s direction for the rest of the night, fearful that what you saw was going to further break you. 

Eventually, you got tired of everyone bumping into you as you danced, so you climbed up onto a table that was littered with half full glasses and empty beer cans. You closed your eyes and let the music guide your body, hips swaying and hands salaciously running the curves of your body.

“Y/N,” A familiar voice yelled over the music, their hand coming to grasp your calf, “Get your drunk ass down!”

You looked down and met Trevor’s worried gaze, though he was quite a bit blurry courtesy of the copious amounts of alcohol you had consumed. Shaking your head at him, you continued dancing and ignored his continuous calls for you to come down from the table. It wasn’t until you heard the one person you were trying to forget that you stopped your movements.

The way Jack was looking up at you with anxiety swirling in his eyes made you want to scream. He had no right to be concerned about when he was the cause of it. Though, he had no idea that he was.

“Y/N,” Jack repeated, taking note of the drunken glare you gave him, “Please come down.”

You tore your glossy eyes away from him, and held your hand out to Trevor so he could help you down from the table. Jack felt his heart crack at your blatant dismissal of him, but he tried to not let it get to him because he knew you were drunk. Still, he hated how you latched onto Trevors side, leaning your head on his chest as he steadied you. He was always the one you clung too, and he doesn’t like the way it feels to be on the outside of that.

“We should call Luke, yeah,” Trevor suggested as he soothingly rubbed your arm, “You need to get home.”

“I can call him and we can go back together,” Jack was quick to offer himself up. 

“No,” You moaned out, shaking your head against Trevor’s chest, “I don’t wanna be around you.”

Jack’s already cracked heart completely shattered inside his chest, the sting from it bleeding into his veins. The despondent look that was slapped on his face would have been enough to send you to your knees had you been looking at him, but you knew better than that. You knew that you would cave in to Jack like you always did, but that’s not what you needed. It was clear that you were never going to have him the way you wanted, and you needed to forget him. Even if it was just for a night. 

“Jack,” Trevor sighed, his own chest burning for his best friend, “I texted Luke before I came to get her and he should be here soon. I’ll make sure she gets to him, okay?”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, all Jack could manage was a nod and move out of the way so Trevor could guide you out of the bar. His entire heart left with you, and he was left staring at the floor wondering what had happened for you to not want to be around him. In order to keep himself from crying in front of his teammates, he made a beeline for the bar to get drinks of his own.

The first thing you felt the following morning was the deadly pounding in your head, and you prayed to any God that would listen that you could just go back to sleep for the rest of your life. Your head was shoved underneath your pillow as you attempted to push back the consistent waves of nausea, but the feeling grew. Before you could truly comprehend what was going on, you were on your feet and darting to the bathroom.

“Y/N,” Trevor called from the other side of the bathroom door, “I’m coming in.”

You tossed him a bleary look as he walked in with a cup of water in hand. The pitiful smile he gave you in return surely would have made you vomit again had you not already emptied all the contents of your stomach. You could see the apprehension clearly arranged on his face.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” You mumbled against your arm that was acting as a barrier between your face and the toilet.

“I didn’t even say anything,” He let out an airy laugh as he searched through the cabinets for some Advil, “Since you brought it up, though...”

“Trevor,” You warned, trying to give him a mean glare, but it hurt your head too much to strain that hard.

Despite how much you drank last night, you were still excruciatingly aware of what had caused you to get that way. The feeling that consumed your entire being when you saw Jack with that girl was still something that was eating away at your heart. You knew that your emotions were going to get the better of you one day, but nothing could have prepared you for when it did.

“Take these,” He ordered, “What happened last night? I’ve never seen you like that, especially not towards Jack. I don’t care that you don’t want to talk about it. If you don’t, you’ll let it take over and you’ll fall into the same hole you did when Trent broke up with you.”

You knew that he was right, but it still annoyed you that Trevor Zegras, of all people, was right. You also knew that he was going to see through any lie you told him. In spite of his reputation, he was a very observant and caring person, especially when it cameto the ones he loved.

 “I saw Jack with some girl last night. That’s all there is to say, really. You know how I feel about him, so it just really sucked. And I guess I let myself read too much into certain situations,” You admitted, taking the pills in hopes that they would help the headache subside.

He sharply sucked in a breath, understanding washing over his body like a wave. He knew the girl you were talking about; Jack had mentioned something about him being ambushed by the bathrooms. She was going on about how her girlfriend was one of his biggest fans, and then Jack had somehow, yet unsurprisingly, managed to bring you up in the conversation. He had told Trevor that the girl made fun of Jack for being a little bitch and not telling you how he feels, which Trevor happily agreed with.

“Y/N,” He sighed, squatting so he was eye level with you, “You need to go talk to him, and don’t say no. It will be better, for both of you, if you talk to each other. Watching the both of you pine over each other is really grinding my gears.”

After a not so lengthy argument with Trevor, partly because he just kept repeating himself and partly because you were too tired to argue, your feet were gently padding down the hall to Jack’s room. Your breathing was quick and uneven as you anxiously squeezed your hands together, moreso the closer you got to him. Taking a deep breath, you gently rapped your knuckles on his door.

“Go away, Trevor,” His voice was muffled, quiet, and defeated.

“Jack,” You softly called as you opened your door and peeked your head in.

“Y/N,” You watched as he jumped up in his bed, pillow falling off the bed and blanket pooling around his waist, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just- Can I come in?”

He eagerly nodded his head, scooting back so he was leaning against the headboard. Trying to keep your eyes from wandering his naked chest was proving difficult the closer you got to him. It felt highly inappropriate given the circumstances. The air was awkward and sticky as you took a seat on the edge of his bed, and you hated that. Things should never be like this with Jack.

Jack knew you so well and he had spent so much time memorizing everything about you that it wasn’t hard to tell that you were nervous, and exhausted. Your lip was red from chewing on it and the skin below your hand was irritated from you pinching yourself, both nervous habits you’ve had as long as he’s known you. However, you also had dark, stormy clouds of exhaustion hanging over you. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his bed and hold you until you fell asleep. 

“How are you feeling,” He asked, eyes flitting from your face to his lap.

“Honestly, I feel like I got hit by a bus,” You laughed, feeling some of the nerves dissipate, “But, I wanted to talk about something. Well, Trevor’s forcing me to do it, but I also think we should talk about it.”

Jack’s already high anxiety skyrocketed. He has no idea what you were going to say, and that terrified him. His mind wandered to the worst possibilities, all of which involved you telling him that you were leaving and never wanted to see him again. He’s not sure he would be able to survive that blow.

“What’s up,” He played it cool as if his heart wasn’t beating so hard and fast that he thought it was going to burst out of his chest.

“I want you to listen to me entirely before you say anything okay,” You started, tucking a leg underneath your thigh as you turned to fully face him. You continued after he gave you a shy nod, “I’m really sorry about last night. About telling you I didn’t want to be around you. I was upset, and hurt. I was waiting for you at the bar and you were taking a while, so I tried to look for you.

“And I saw you talking to a girl by the bathrooms, and I guess I got a little jealous. I got jealous because I- I don’t know, it’s kind of obvious why, Jack. I let my emotions get to me and I reacted terribly, I’m sorry. And it’s okay that you don’t feel the same way that I feel. Just promise me it won’t change our friendship?”

His heart, still beating erratically, was doing flips inside his chest as he let your words fully soak in. Jack knew he wasn’t a Harvard scholar, but it didn’t take much to figure out you were saying you had feelings for him without actually saying it. All those hours of Trevor trying to convince Jack that you liked him back flooded his memory, and he felt stupid for not believing him. Now Trevor was kind of an airhead, but if something was that obvious to him, Jack should have known it was true. 

The silence that hung in the air was daunting, but you were giving him time to think about what you had said to him. Springing a half-assed love confession on someone who looked just as hungover as you were probably wasn’t the best idea, but it was Trevor’s so it made sense. You refused to make eye contact with Jack as he, presumably, found a way to gently let you down. You decided to focus on picking at your fingers while you waited, a habit you thought you had broken

“I was jealous too, you know,” He started, moving his body so he was sitting in the same position as you. He delicately took your hands in his own before you picked so hard you drew blood.

“Of what,” You frowned.

“The whole Barzal thing. You said you thought he was hot, and I guess I got a little insecure because he is an attractive guy,” He explained, his voice laced with apprehension, “Trevor and Luke kept talking about how you’re in love with him or whatever, and then I saw how excited you got when he got on the ice and I don’t know. It really bothered me.

“And the girl at the bar? We were only talking because she said her girlfriend was a big fan, and then I started talking about you, like I always do. She basically told me I was a pussy for not telling you how I felt, and she’s right.”

You snapped your gaze to meet his own, and you knew you were royally screwed. He was looking at you like you hung the stars and the moon, and it was in that moment you realize that he’s looked at you like that for a while. You were just too naive, and scared, to let yourself believe it was anything other than friendship.

“I love you, Y/N, and not in just a friend way but an “I-want-you-to-be-my-girlfriend” way. And I really want to kiss you.”

“So do it.”

In an instant, he was pulling you into him, his soft lips meeting your own in a messy kiss. You moved your hands to the nape of his neck, fingers carding into his hair as he pulled you onto his lap. His hands found place on your lower back, scared to wander any further out of fear of making you uncomfortable, but you had waited far too long for this moment for him to not explore whatever he wanted. However, the sound of Jack’s door opening caused the two of you to separate your mouths.

“Are you two going to come ea- Oh my god! They’re having sex,” Trevor screamed, quickly turning around and slamming the door shut, “Luke! Don’t go in there!”

Jack’s forehead fell to your shoulder as he let out an amused, “Fucking Trevor.” (iykyk lmao)

“You know, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but we actually owe him,” You let out a breathy laugh.

“Yes you do!”

“Go away!”

[justwinginglife]

hi!! may I request something again?^^

may I request soshiro found out that you can turn into a Kaiju or see you transforming into your Kaiju form. a little Angst but with happy ending please:›

You may always request something again! Also story note- for this fic, Imma just ignore that Kikoru Shinomiya exists, sorry yall, you're taking her spot now.

Half Human

Your whole life was one big irony in that your life's mission was to kill kaiju and yet you owed the very breath in your lungs to them. Your father, the Director General, Isao Shinomiya, had already lost his wife and he'd be damned if he was going to lose you too. He secretly brought a kaiju back to base alive and had several talented doctors and scientists exchange its core in place of your failing heart. The doctors weren't even sure it could be done, but when the abomination that was you was finally finished, they were all sworn to secrecy. You were to be the first and the only kaiju transplant survivor.

After all, if word got out that it was possible to enhance the human body directly with kaiju organs, without use of a suit, there would be chaos. For one, the suit industry would take an immense hit and the black market would reign supreme. Not to mention how much ungodly human experimentation could come about from failed attempts to successfully recreate the transplant. It might even make the Defense Force's job more difficult- trying to take Kaiju in alive was significantly more dangerous and strenuous than just killing them.

With all these things in mind, your father kept the tightest lid on the situation. No one but you, your father, and the team that had worked on you knew this secret. But today, one more would find out.

Your father always carefully monitored your vitals in case you ever rejected the organ, and you were always reminded to keep your emotions in check so as to not set off the kaiju side of you. You thought that you'd learned to keep most of your emotions at bay, but apparently that control you had did not apply to anything even remotely related to the Vice Captain.

One time you'd heard someone shit talking him and you accidentally stabbed through your own tongue because your anger had called your fangs to emerge. And it didn't help that the Vice Captain glimpsed the blood dripping from your lips and tried to help you. You always wondered if you'd be able to feel human emotions anymore since you no longer had a human heart, but he quickly put that fear to rest because every time he reached for you, touched you, cared for you, you felt like you could feel your nonexistent heart beating rapidly. It felt like he was the only thing grounding you in your humanity.

Your father must have caught onto this at some point because he'd frequently make excuses to call you to headquarters when he felt like you might be getting too close to Hoshina. Today was one of those days.

You had gotten the summon early this morning and you were annoyed but you knew you that as much as you wanted to rebel against your father as his daughter, as a soldier in his Defense Force you couldn't very well disobey a direct order from the Director General. Especially when no one knew the reason you were called to headquarters so regularly. So you went to him.

By the time you finally concluded your business with your father it was late (you refused to stay the night in his division and let him have anymore hold over your life as it was) and you were waiting for the next train back to the Third Division when you felt your comms buzzing in your pocket. You thought it was strange as everyone should be either asleep or going to sleep soon, but you popped the comms in anyway, eager to hear what was going on so late at night. The base was under attack. It was a Daikaiju. The Vice Captain was fighting him. And losing.

You start to get dizzy. Sweat trickles down your forehead. The world seemed to be blinking in and out. You shake your head trying to get ahold of yourself but you know it's no use. You still haven't learned to get your kaiju side under control and on the rare occasion when you slipped and went berserk only your father could bring you back from that place of darkness. You clench your fists, straining, and gripping onto what was left of your humanity but your lower half had already started to turn.

"No- don't. He needs me. I can't be rampaging in another division right now." You beg the beast inside you.

It doesn't listen.

You feel the transformation reach your neck, a growl already starting to rise up your throat.

"I said stop! Damnit, st-"

Your voice is no longer your own. All that's left of you is one half of your face now, and the beast is slowly closing in on it. It's hungry. It hasn't been let out in awhile.

You look up at the moon, blinking back tears, thinking it might be awhile before you see it again, before you're yourself again. You wonder how long it will take your dad to find you and you wonder if he will even be able to change you back this time. He was getting older, getting weaker. What if you killed him this time?

And what if when you woke up, if you ever woke up again, the Vice Captain was dead? What would you do with your life if you weren't listening for his footsteps in the hallways or listening for his laugh in the air? If he wasn't telling you a joke or complimenting your stance, would you make it through the day? If you went through life not ever having told him how you felt, would it still feel like you were living?

You start to spiral in your own dark thoughts as the transformation spreads across your face, but right before it hits your ear you here the comms crackling.

"Vice Captain! Come in, Vice Captain! Sir, please respond!" Okonogi. She's yelling for the Vice Captain. Something must've happened.

Your vision starts to go red. You punch the lamppost beside you, but you're surprised to find that it's your fist that hits the metal. Not the beast's. You look down. Only your legs are still transformed.

You actually laugh out loud. "That's more like it. Time to go." You jump once, and it propels you into the sky. You use the momentum to launch yourself towards the Third Division. Somehow your legs are faster than a moving train, bringing you bounding towards the training grounds in what seems like no time at all.

Before you can even think about the consequences of being half transformed on base where the officers are literally trained to kill kaiju like you, before you can even think about how your father will probably kill you himself for revealing the secret he's worked so hard to protect, you're already jumping in front of Hoshina as you transform your arms and block a blow that could've been deadly.

He doesn't even have time to be stunned, you're injured.

He jumps to his feet, concern on his face, as you spit blood. You've not fought anything in your kaiju form before (the most you've done is scare the shit out of some pigeons before your father found you and changed you back) and it takes some getting used to.

"Well fuck. That actually hurt, damnit!" You yell at the kaiju. It laughs at you. You raise an eyebrow. It seems to understand you. You're astounded but you don't care to think too much about it before you launch a punch at its abdomen.

It groans but then it chuckles. "Is that the best you've got?"

"Ah so you do talk. That's fucking creepy, not gonna lie." You punch its chest this time.

It staggers backwards and Hoshina takes advantage of the opening, slashing at its legs. It lands on its back.

You hurl yourself high into the air and then crash down hard on its head with a deafening blow that splits its skull. But it starts to slowly regenerate and it shakes you off of it. You land at the ground by Hoshina.

"So are we ever going to talk about the whole 'you being a half kaiju hybrid' thing?" He asks you, eyes still trained on the shuddering beast in front of him.

"Really? Now? We're a little busy Hoshina."

He laughs- he actually fucking laughs. "Oh really, because here I thought we were having a nice little tea party."

You roll your eyes but you can't help but smile at his poor comedic timing. "I'll treat you to some tea if you tell me where the damn core is."

He points to its back. "Lil fucker is hiding it in there."

You nod. "Got it."

The kaiju rises to its feet, ready for another round.

"Do me a favor and be bait, yeah?" You tell Hoshina and then before he can protest, you charge its back.

The kaiju swings at you but you duck.

"Oh I'm the fucking bait? Real classy." Hoshina grumbles but he complies, charging at its front, slashing at it and keeping it busy while you circle behind it.

You run up the stairs of a nearby building and when you reach the top, you launch yourself from the roof.

"This one is for making Hoshina bleed." You mutter under your breath before sending its organs flying as you rip through its flesh and pummel its core to bits. The aftershock sends you flying and you don't have time to land properly. You smack the floor on your side, tumbling in circles until you finally slow.

Your ribs feel like they're caving in but at least the kaiju is down for good. You lie in the dirt, coughing painfully and looking up at the night sky. You're fully human again, like the beast inside you curled up and went to bed, letting you feel the full force of the pain alone.

Hoshina rushes over to you. "Oh my god, are you okay?!"

You cough again. "Not sure if I'm up for that tea party anymore. Might've fucked up a lung or two."

He rolls his eyes. "You would make a joke at a time like this."

"And who was the one asking me stupid questions mid fucking fight?" You tease.

He laughs.

"So... are we going to talk about it now?" You swallow, wondering how he'll react to this new side of you.

He thinks for a moment. "Talk about what? As far as I know, a human saved me from the kaiju. And it looks like," He chucks a rock at the nearby drone, "The rubble badly damaged any footage that might've been captured."

You sigh, relieved, and relax against the ground.

"But... if there's anything you want to tell me later... when you're ready, I'll listen."

There were so many things you wanted to tell him and you being half kaiju was the least important of them. But you'd save that for another day, maybe when less of your limbs hurt.

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

"By the way, did you really brutally murder the kaiju just because it made me bleed? Your comms were on."

"Shut up, Hoshina."

[fandomfucker]

Hi can you do a judgment day x reader where they all go to a club to celebrate a win or something and the reader goes to get more drinks and a guy comes up to her flirting with her and she politely tries get away but he keeps on but then the judgement day comes looking for reader and protect her and just fluff when she thanks them and them saying they will always protect her or something like that? Pls💕

Word Count: 1,127

Reader's POV

The bright lights shone above, reflecting off of my metal jewelry in flashing colors of light. The atmosphere was humid with the smells of sweat and alcohol. Music blared from the speakers placed strategically around the room, causing the walls and floors to vibrate with the bass.

Bodies pressed up against me from every side but I didn't mind too much since they were the bodies of my four partners. Yes, four. How on Earth I got lucky enough to score all four of them simultaneously I'll never know but I'll cherish them forever.

The colorful flashing lights illuminated each of my partners' faces as I danced between them all.

Rhea held my hips from behind, grinding on my ass as Dominik held my waist, swaying his hips and singing along to whatever song was playing in front of me.

Damien and Finn were off in their own little world as they grinded against each other next to us, occasionally bumping hips with us as we all swayed to the music.

My face and neck were both flushed with sweat as I danced the night away with my partners. We were celebrating Dominik winning his NXT North American Championship Title back.

Covered in sweat and panting slightly, I gently pried myself away from the sandwich my two partners had put me in.

"I'm gonna go get drinks!" I shouted to the two of them as I pointed towards the bar. It wasn't too far away but with the amount of people in between it felt astronomical.

"Be careful!" Rhea shouted back before closing the space between her and Dom, the two of them now grinding on each other instead of me.

I giggled happily to myself as I made my way towards the bar. I had to dance my way around crowds of people along with individual couples so I wasn't met with a hand to the face.

Reaching the bar, I laid my hands atop the counter as I waited for the bartender to finish what he was doing. His movements with the bottles captured my attention, captivating me as I watched in awe.

"Hey, beautiful. Whatcha drinkin'?" An older man with scraggly, peppered, facial hair saddled up to my right

"Just water," I replied, turning my attention briefly to him before turning back to watch the bartender. Just trying to nicely tell him to get lost but he didn't seem to be getting the hint.

"Lemme buy you a drink, baby." His slurred voice rose to be heard above the music, only spreading the smell of his beer breath further into my face. He raised his hand and started whistling at the bartender, who, on the other side of the bar, couldn't hear or see him.

After a second or two of not being acknowledged he gave up and focused his undivided attention onto me. His beady eyes stared straight into my soul.

"No thank you. I'm actually here with someone." I smiled politely, taking a subtle step back away from the man. I did a quick sweep of the dance floor, trying to find my partners, only to see the four of them all in the exact same positions I had left them in.

"Hey, now. I don't see anyone." He did an overexaggerated look around us at the crowd as he leaned forward even closer to my face. I tried to step back again but found myself up against a stool and no longer able to move away.

The man only pushed further towards me, effectively caging me in. My heart started to race as I started to panic.

I wouldn't be able to beat a literal child in a fight, much less this drunk grown-ass man.

"Yeah, well, they're right over there." I pointed in their general direction, refusing to take my eyes off of the man in front of me though lest he try something when I'm not fully paying attention.

"Come on, sweetheart. I don't bite." He gave me a toothy grin as he laid his hand on my arm. Before I could even yank my arm out of his reach, his arm was ripped off of me by someone else.

"Yeah? Well, I do." Rhea stood behind the man, his arm gripped tightly in her fist as she glowered at the man.

Damian stood next to her, also death-staring the man as Dominik and Finn gently pulled me away from the situation and behind Rhea and Damian.

The two of them were without a doubt the most menacing of the group. Damian with his combined height and build and Rhea with her build and her overall aura. They were especially terrifying when even slightly peeved, never mind totally pissed.

I would hate to be in that man's position right about now.

And by the looks of it, so would he. He stared up at the two of them in horror as a wet spot grew along the front of his pants, trickling down and onto the floor, making my partners all take a couple of steps back.

Dominik waved over a bouncer to escort the perv out of the bar as Rhea continued to scowl disgustedly at the man as he was dragged out.

"I see you again, I'll do a lot more than just make you piss yourself." Rhea threatened making the man's face lose all color before she turned around to face me.

Her expression immediately softened as she gripped my face in her hands, turning my face every which way examining me for any harm the man might have caused.

"You alright, chica?" Damian checked up on me, resting a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"I'm okay," I reassured my partners. "Just a bit shaken up is all."

Finn shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders, rubbing them as he steered me towards the exit. "Let's get you home, Lass."

Dominik held my hand the whole way home, rubbing small circles with his thumb, and then carried me out of the car once I fell asleep.

Laying in bed later that night surrounded by my four partners I realized just how so incredibly lucky I am. "Thank you guys for being there," I mumbled in my sleep-dazed head-space.

"Anything for you, mami," Dominik replied, giving my forehead a kiss as Rhea squeezed my middle from behind. Finn and Damian each gave one of my hips a kiss as well.

"We'll always be here to protect you Y/n," Damian added, receiving confirmation noises from my other two partners.

My partners are my protectors and nothing and nobody will ever change that. I fell asleep feeling loved and safe, encompassed by their warm bodies saving me from all kinds of harm.

[hxney-lemcn]

Tension — Farmworld! Finn Mertens x gn! reader

summary: reader becomes more incorporated in the kids lives. they even try to give some fighting tips, only to end up sparring with Finn.

tw: sparring (?)

a/n: I'm...not too proud of this one, but I wouldn't say it's terrible. I just think I made it kinda run too long. Also...I'm bad at writing fighting scenes 😭

wc: 1.1k

Chapter Three

Master List | Chapter One

I looked down at Bonnie as she tugged on my arm, drawing my name out in a whine. “Can you tell me a bedtime story?”

I noticed how Bonnie seemed to cling to me the most, constantly wanting to hear more stories about my world. The others weren’t as pushy, probably used to their dad’s antics surrounding magic. Bonnie was the youngest though, so she probably had more leeway. 

“Only if your dad’s okay with it,” I replied, looking towards said man. 

“Fine,” He huffed.

“Yay!” Bonnie cheered, pulling me up to her room. This wasn’t my first time up here, as a part of my chore list would be to help the kids clean their rooms. The upstairs only held one hallway that led to only four rooms. It was two kids per room, then Finn in his own room. 

All the other kids had headed to bed, but tonight, Bonnie wanted me to tuck her in. She pulled me all the way into her room before bouncing on her bed, laying down and looking at me expectantly with a toothy grin. Stormo was already laying down, the soft light of the lamp illuminating the room in a warm orange tone. I walked over to Bonnie, taking her blanket and tucking her in gently. She wiggled excitedly, patting next to her for me to sit down. 

As I sat down, I tried to think of a story to tell. I felt even more put on the spot with Finn who stood in the doorway, watching over the scene with his arms crossed. 

“What kind of story do you wanna hear?” I asked, looking down at the blonde girl who wiggled her head onto my lap.

“How did you meet daddy in your world?” 

I smiled, “I actually helped save him and Jake. So I was flying back home when…”

I told her about how they were attacking a beast to obtain an ingredient for Princess Bubblegum, but odds didn’t seem to be in their favor. So I swooped down and distracted it, giving Finn clearance to knock the beast out. Him and Jake invited me to tag along and hang out sometime, and the rest is history. By the time I finished, Bonnie was passed out, sleeping soundly on my lap. 

Not seeing a way out without waking her up, I inched lower into the bed and under the blankets. Slowly moving her head to lay on my chest. Thankfully, my injured wing didn’t need to be bandaged anymore, and the scab was healing quickly. With one wing, I draped it over the two of us like a second blanket. I then realized that I wasn’t able to turn the lantern off. 

Finn thankfully, was there to save the day. He blew the lantern out, only to pat my head gently before exiting the room. I felt my cheeks flush, staring at the ceiling. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, my thoughts seemed to be rushing a mile a minute. Finn was closed off, a bit cold and standoffish. And he’s only been warming up to me. I’ve noticed how his stare directed towards me was no longer the harsh untrusting look, but a warmer, more accepting one. He started to talk to me more, taking in my input and sometimes even using my advice. Now, it seemed to even seep into a more physical form of caring. 

Letting out a quiet sigh, I closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep. 

…

The next day, as I was busy carrying a bale of hay into the barn, I caught sight of Finn teaching Stormo some self defense. I hurried with my task, setting the hay bale in Bartram’s stall. I gave the donkey a quick pat on the head before exiting back outside. 

I took a few minutes to catch my breath. Watching as the two Mertens sparred. I was slightly surprised that Finn was willing to teach them how to fight, but on the other hand, I understood why. With gangs who prey on the weak, to the mutant creatures I’ve heard about that prowl outside, they needed to know how to protect themselves, and each other. 

“You need to straighten your posture,” I spoke up, noticing how Stormo slightly hunched his shoulders in. “And widen your stance.” Walking over to the two, I fixed Stormos' posture and smiled in satisfaction as he seemed more confident. 

This time, he did better during their spar. Finn didn’t seem to put his all in it, but still managed to win. I sighed as Stormo seemed to keep letting his guard down, which let Finn get hits in. 

“That was a lot better,” I praised, clapping slightly. “But you gotta keep in mind your openings. With every attack, you gotta think about what you’re leaving vulnerable. Make sure you protect your head and torso.”

“Perhaps a demonstration could help,” Finn spoke up. 

A mischievous grin morphed onto my lips, “I don’t know…don’t want the kids thinking I’m stronger than their daddy.”

“Try me.”

Stormo handed me the stick and I got into a defensive position, waiting for Finn to make the first move. A fierce spar it was, as we both got hits on each other. Sweat ran down my forehead as I focused on disarming the blonde haired man. We watched each other intently, and I felt like I was in my element. The urge to flutter my wings and sore around was strong, as when I sparred with my world's Finn, anything was allowed. But I kept myself on the ground, knowing it would be an unfair advantage to use. 

Then suddenly, it all seemed to happen so quickly. My breath was knocked out of my lungs as Finn had managed to tackle me to the ground. Both our wooden stick swords fell…who knows where. The atmosphere grew tense as we both panted, sweat covering our bodies. Our gazes were interlocked, and I could feel his breath hit my face. 

A few seconds felt like hours before Finn lifted himself off of me. He offered me a hand and helped me stand back up as well.

“It seems like you still need some practice,” He stated. But even with him speaking with his usual monotone, his eyes expressed the tease to that sentence. His lips barely quirked up, before he went back to his stoic expression. 

My heart seemed to stutter, not able to make eye contact. A wave of embarrassment hit me even worse when I realized Stormo had just witnessed the entire encounter. 

“I went easy on you,” I grumbled, my pride winning me over. “If I were in a real fight I have the high ground.” I fluttered my wings slightly so he understood what I meant. 

“Then let’s try again,” He offered, picking up the swords and tossing me mine. “This time, don’t hold back.”

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[thescarletnargacuga]

SHADOW PUPPET

PART 4 OF THE UNSEEN SERIES: A HARLEQUIN AU FANFICTION

Harlequin AU credit: @tadc-harlequin-au @iamespecter

Shadowblade is my OC and NOT CANON

Featuring MOTSI, OC by @paper-fowl

WARNING: swearing, nightmare imagery, PTSD

~~~

"OW! Are you sure you know what you're doing!?" Jax loudly complained as Pomni mended a crack in his arm.

"I'm not Caine, shithead. You're lucky I'm even attempting this. Now shut up, so I can concentrate." Pomni focused her energy into the mending tool, slowly soldering Jax's wound closed. It was messy, but at least his inner workings were no longer exposed.

They sat with Shadowblade in the middle of the ruined warehouse where their epic battle with the silver beast ended. The beast's body laid headless, purple fluid congealing around it. Jax was badly wounded from using a powerful energy attack that finished the beast off. He could still fight if he had to, but energy was out of the question until he had more rest. Pomni wasn't too bad off, the only serious thing was some shrapnel in her left leg. Shadowblade needed serious repair, the giant dragonesque puppet had gone into shutdown and was unresponsive.

The sky was still dark. It was hours before dawn. Pomni had her mask to help her see in the dark while she attempted minor repairs. Jax bared the pain of the unprofessional work by occupying himself with conversation.

"Hey, is your pet going to live?" Jax nodded to Shadowblade.

"They better, or getting back home will be a bitch. I don't want to deal with you more than I have to." Pomni commented sarcastically to distract herself from her worry over Shadowblade.

"Ditto." Jax deadpanned. "You gonna call your boyfriend for help? They're pretty messed up." He looked over Shadowblade's torn torso and wings. If he hadn't arrived when he did, they would likely be dead.

"He's not my boyfriend." Pomni grumbled. "But, yes, I'll have to call him. Shadowblade's damage is too severe for me to even attempt to fix. We're going to be here for a bit. Even with his blink, I don't think he could get here faster than we did, and it still took us a whole day."

Jax rolled his eyes. "I told you we'd end up stuck here. Why don't you-.... Uh....why don't..." Jax collapsed.

"Jax??" Pomni put down the tool and double checked what she did, seeing if she damaged him in a way that would make him fall over. "Jax! Wake up! That's not funny! We need to-!!!!" Pomni felt it. An overpowering aura that made the air feel dense. She could sense the direction it was coming from but couldn't see anything yet. She instinctually reached for her sword, but her hand shook too much to unsheathe it. She couldn't stand, her body refused to move from its kneeling position on the floor.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Rhythmic tapping of a heavy metal cane echoed from the far end of the warehouse. Pomni's eyes went wide with panic. Not him. Not now. Please, if there is a god...

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

A towering, suited humanoid figure emerged from the darkness, within range of Pomni's night vision. The seven foot, bullhorn-head puppet walked slowly but with purpose. He was going straight for the silver beast.

Pomni hyperventilated. The Patriarch was going to kill her. She was defenseless and miles from Caine. She internally cursed herself for not even being able to draw her sword. She watched the imposing figure hold the end of his cane to the silver beast's chest. Firey red energy blazed down the cane and made the end white hot, burning through the beast's armor.

The Patriarch cut a hole over the beast's core with one circling movement of his cane, then held his hand out as though expecting something to be dropped into it. The purple crystal within the beast's chest cracked and shifted out of place before the very core of it shot out and landed in the Patriarch's palm. He closed his fist and pocketed the crystal before slowly turning his head to Pomni.

Pomni gasped, her heart going wild with fear. Everything inside of her screamed to run, but she fought it to stay with Jax and Shadowblade. Even under distress, she would not abandon them.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

The Patriarch approached calmly, completely unbothered by anything around him. Then, in a burst of fast forwarded motion, he was directly in front of Pomni, staring down at her.

Pomni would have screamed if she could breathe. Instead, she scrambled backwards; managing to find the strength to back away, at least until she was against Shadowblade. She stared into the Patriarch's single bright red eye, knowing it would be the last thing she would see before the void.

"You have something I want." He held out his hand. His voice clear and derisive, but with a threatening undertone.

Pomni put her arms out against Shadowblade, covering their exposed core like she could stop him from harvesting it too.

Instead, an object in Pomni's vest jumped, drawn in by the Patriarch's telekinesis. She tried to hold it down, but the journal from the basement safe flew away from her and into the Patriarch's waiting hand.

"Thank you." The Patriarch gripped the journal and turned to leave.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

Pomni's mind raced as she stared into the back of the Patriarch for as long as she could see him, half expecting him to turn around and put his cane through her heart. The air still felt oppressive even after he was long out of sight. She felt like she was holding her breath for eternity when it finally stopped. She gasped and held herself as she trembled against Shadowblade.

Jax groaned. "Fuuuuck, my head...what happened? What did you do to me?" He sat up, rubbing his head. His chest felt weird as well, like his soul had been disconnected from his body before coming back suddenly. He saw Pomni curled up against Shadowblade with a thousand yard stare. "Hello, I asked you a question."

Pomni didn't respond.

Jax got himself to his feet and dragged his tired frame over to her. "Pomni?"

No response.

Jax has never seen her like this. Something spooked the Harlequin into silence and it was freaking him out. They couldn't wait any longer for reinforcements. He extended his arm to reach into the saddle bag. He rummaged around until he found a communicator. They were outside of radio range, but the distress beacons were detected by the W.A.C.K.Y watch no matter where they were. He activated the beacon and sat next to Pomni. For once, he was fine with the silence. He didn't know what to say anyway.

~

Caine was roused from sleep by a pinging noise from his watch. "Huh..?" His vision swam as he struggled to focus on the noise. "Wha-.. woah!" He rolled off the bed, nearly hitting his head on the nightstand on the way down. He groaned and searched his pocket. His watch continued to ping loudly and a distress marker was lit up in the City of Gears. He got to his feet and hastily grabbed his things. He was about to start blinking when Gangle and Ragatha came in.

"Caine! What are you doing out of bed??" Ragatha fussed.

"Pomni's activated her distress beacon. I need to go." He tried to blink outside but his heart lurched from the overexertion, causing him pain. He grunted, clutching his chest.

"Absolutely not! You're in no state to travel." Ragatha put her foot down, trying to guide Caine back to bed.

"Unhand me!" Caine pulled away, stumbling into the bed post. "Pomni's in trouble!"

"Then we'll send others!" Ragatha argued, scared for his well-being.

"No...no... You won't get there fast enough. None of you can...oh god." Fear gripped Caine soul. He barely felt strong enough to stand, let alone blink all the way to the City of Gears. He cursed himself for holding on to the void for too long. Now Pomni needed him and he couldn't get to her.

"I'll take you." Gangle said quietly when there was a silent pause between Caine and Ragatha.

The two looked at Gangle, surprised. Caine steadied himself. "Have you learned to blink?"

"No...but I am more comfortable with my soul magic and I....can fly."

"Since when??" Ragatha gaped.

"Not long. I figured out I could do it when one of Kinger's stick bugs wouldn't come down out of a tree. Next thing I knew I was floating." She giggled lightly. "Caine, If you need to get to the City of Gears, I will take you as fast as I can."

Caine put a grateful hand on Gangle's shoulder. "Thank you. We need to leave immediately. Grab anything you may need."

Gangle swept out of the room and Caine double checked his pockets for tools. Ragatha sighed. "It's going to be dangerous. You're so low on energy, you're stumbling around like you've been drinking all night. Let me go with Gangle. Let us handle whatever's got Pomni down."

"With all due respect, if Pomni has activated her distress beacon, you wouldn't be able to handle what made her do it. She and Jax, and possibly Shadowblade, could all be downed. They'll need an expert healer. I can rest on the flight there. By the end I should have enough energy to at least help them, even fight if I must. Try not to worry." Caine adjusted his coat on his shoulders, as ready to go as he could be.

"Impossible, I'm afraid. Everyone here has come to mean a lot to me. Including you. Please, don't push your soul too hard. It can only take so much. I'm sorry if I'm being overbearing, I just...."

"You're a wonderful friend, Ragatha. The world needs more people like you. I'll be careful." Caine reassured.

Ragatha nodded solemnly. "That's all I ask...oh, before I forget, I found some information on the crystal that I think you'll want to know." She took the fragments out of her pocket. "This is piezoelectric quartz. It's used as a power source for marionettes. It comes in a variety of colors, but they all generally come from the same place. The City of Power."

Caine remembered what the Master said about the existence of a D.I.E in Shadowblade. "Within...oh my god."

"What?" Ragatha asked.

"That's how he did it. The rat bastard fused a D.I.E with a large marionette's power source and then used a charm to maintain control. The process required to do such a thing.... I'm sick just thinking of it." He gripped his cane hard.

"Who...?" Ragatha stood confused.

"I spoke with the foul soul responsible for Shadowblade. Why do you think I'm so tired?"

Ragatha took the reformed control charm with S.B's initials out of her pocket. "Here. I don't know if it'll be of anymore use, but you should have it."

Caine took it as Gangle rushed back into the room, wearing a small cross body bag. "I'm ready!"

"Let's go then." Caine turned on his heel, marching to the door. "Hold down the fort, Ragatha."

Gangle and Caine went outside, where the sky was showing only the slightest bit of light from dawns approach. Gangle nervously held her arms out. "I, um...have to carry you."

Caine jumped into her arms without question, eager to get going. Gangle securely wrapped her ribbons around Caine legs and torso, carrying him as though he were her bride. She was the only one even slightly embarrassed.

Gangle focused on the gentle breeze lazily wafting by. A silvery glow emanated from her heart, traveling down the ribbons she stood upon. The wind rushed around with force, becoming gale force in an instant. Gangle's ribbons caught the air and gained lift. Caine watched with fascination as they rose from the ground. Gangle leaned forward and she started flying quickly, due east.

"Well I'll be dipped. You're soul magic uses the wind! That's incredible!"

"Heh, thank you." Gangle smiled with a tiny blush.

"Now we just need to find someone who can influence water, and we can make our own weather." Caine joked.

~

Birds chirping in hazey morning light gently stirred Shadowblade. They were in a comfortable human bed, wrapped in warm blankets. The smell of food in the air.

Shadowblade sat up, feeling very light and strange, their body not moving in a way they were used to. Removing the blankets, they saw a fair skinned human hand. They gasp. Two hands. Dainty and young.

Slowly, they get out of bed, standing on two legs. They look down, lifting their long nightshirt to see two human feet. Ten toes. Cold against the hardwood floor. They take a step forward. Then another. They balanced as though they had been walking on two legs their whole life.

Shadowblade looked around the room. It was small; only a bed, small vanity and wardrobe. The sunlight pouring in from the window gave everything a warm glow. They go the vanity. A crystal clear mirror reflects their chest as their head stood just out of its sight.

Shadowblade's hand shook as they reached for the top of the mirror. They tilted it...to see a young woman wearing a bonnet staring back. Shadowblade touches the human face, staring wide eyed at the reflection. The face was that of a young adult woman. Bright hazel eyes. Light freckles dotted pale skin. They grasp the bonnet, pulling it off to reveal long dark red hair that spilled over their shoulders. The hair curled lightly, a bit frizzed in the morning humidity.

Shadowblade touches the hair. The thick locks slide between their human fingers. It was the softest texture they'd ever experienced.

"You awake in there?" An unfamiliar woman's voice called from beyond the bedroom door.

Shadowblade jumped, staring at the door like a startled cat. "Coming, mother!" They said involuntarily. They gasp and clap their hands over their mouth. Their voice was soft, melodious even, like Gangle's.

Their eyes went back to the mirror and they looked different. They wore a simple brown dress and their hair was tied back. They felt compelled to leave the room, so they went out to find "mother".

The house was tiny, a bit ramshackled, but cozy. Floors boards creaked with each step. They only had to turn a corner to see a woman standing at a stove, her back to Shadowblade.

She was humming to herself, stirring a small pot of porridge. Shadowblade approached tentatively, jumping again when the woman looked back at them.

"Good morning, dear! You slept late. Have a seat, breakfast is nearly finished." Mother said with a smile.

Shadowblade sat stiffly as they were served a meager meal of porridge and a slice of bread. They kept their eyes on Mother, not trusting to take their gaze away from a stranger.

"Wh...where...am...I?" Shadowblade said slowly, not knowing their own voice.

Mother sat next to Shadowblade at the table with her own food and gave a warm smile. "You're home, silly. I certainly wouldn't mistake this place for anywhere else."

"I don't... understand...how..?"

"Where else would you go when you are hurting? You've been in a lot of pain for a long time. I'm glad you finally made it back. I've missed you."

~

Jax eyed the shrapnel in Pomni's left leg. "...you gonna get that?"

Pomni still wasn't responding. She stared emotionless at the floor, lost in a daze.

Jax gripped a piece of metal sticking out of Pomni's leg and yanked it out.

"AH! SON OF A FUCK THAT HURT! WHAT THE HELL!?" Pomni gripped her leg, glaring at Jax.

"There you are." Jax tossed the shrapnel. "What happened to you? You got all weird."

"Nothing." Pomni said stiffly.

"Bullshit."

"I'm not obligated to tell you anything."

"You are if it puts me at risk. I pass out for no reason and then you start acting like scared child?"

Pomni picked at the remaining pieces of shrapnel in her leg, carefully removing them. "You wouldn't understand even if I told you."

"Try me." Jax said firmly.

Pomni locked eyes with Jax in an intense stare for a long moment. "...fine. Are you familiar with an entity referred to as The Patriarch?"

"No."

"I may be the last combat Harlequin, but I am not the only Harlequin. This self proclaimed Patriarch has been following me ever since I defeated Kingr. I've seen him everywhere... I don't know how he gets around so fast."

Jax paused, thinking. "...maybe he isn't real."

Pomni went ridged, looking about as mad as she could be. She pulled the collar holding her bell away from her neck, exposing an ugly scar. "He did this to me, just by LOOKING at me. He's real. I don't know what he wants... Some times he hurts me. Sometimes he doesn't. Nothing and no one can stop him."

"Caine hasn't fixed that?" Jax pointed at Pomni's neck.

"I never take off the bell... He doesn't know about it."

"Damn...what did The Patriarch do this time?"

"He took part of the core of that thing." Pomni pointed at the deceased silver beast. "And he stole the journal. I don't know what he would want with it, but I can't imagine anything good. I'm just glad he didn't take Shadowblade." Pomni looked over her damaged companion.

Silence fell between them once again. The only sound being the soft rhythmic hum of Shadowblade's core. Pomni took off her mask, morning light giving her enough to see.

~

Gangle zoomed across the sky as fast as she could. Making much better time than expected. Caine took the time to meditate, rejuvenating some of his energy on the flight. His watch pinging louder as they grew close to the City of Gears broke his trance.

"We're here already?" Caine checked his watch.

"I found a jetstream!" Gangle proudly announced. "Where are they?"

"Down there. The warehouse with the big hole in the roof."

Gangle gracefully descended through the roof, bringing the wind with her and kicking up dust. Pomni and Jax were on their feet, expecting a fight. Caine almost blinked to Pomni, but saved his energy. Gangle released him, feeling his anxious squirming.

Caine ran up to Pomni, checking her for injuries. "We came as fast as we could! What happened!?"

Pomni embraced him. "I've never been so happy to see you."

Caine stood stunned, looking to Jax and Shadowblade's body, but gradually hugged her back. "I'm glad you're safe."

Jax avoided looking at the hugging duo. He was more interested in why Gangle was so far away from the manor. "Well, look who decided to leave the manor walls for once. Enjoying your field trip?"

"Indeed, Sir Jax. The air is so fresh up high." Gangle was transfixed a moment, then looked away shyly. " Master Caine needed to get here quickly. So I helped."

"Descending from on high like an angel? That's one way to get my attention." Jax chuckled.

Gangle squeaked. "I didn't- I'm not- oh my..." She hid her face, emotive patterns on her mask changing wildly.

Caine wished Pomni wouldn't let go, this was the most contact he's had with her that didn't involve fighting in a long time. His very soul sang in her presence.

"Shadowblade isn't doing good." Pomni said quietly. "And...he showed up."

Caine's blood ran cold. "The Patriarch?"

Pomni let go of Caine and pointed to the silver beast. "He took the core of that thing that attacked us. I thought he was going to take Shadowblade's too, but he didn't. He just...left. Even thanked me. Condescending bastard."

Caine could see the broken core and blood of the beast. "...the traitorous son."

"Huh?"

"Later. Shadowblade." Caine started evaluating Shadowblade's condition. The torso and an entire wing were torn apart. Heavy damage to the neck as well. They lost a lot of fluid, the core was dim and cracked. "Void preserve me, this is going to take awhile." He puts a hand on Shadowblade's face, drowning at seeing no signs of life.

"You can fix them...right?" Pomni asked with worry in her voice.

"Enough to get them back to the City of Circuits, but even that's going to be hours. You'll want to get comfortable."

Gangle and Jax came close to hear Caine's take on the damage. Gangle gasped, staring right at the core of Shadowblade.

"Oh my goodness...I can see them."

"Yeah, they're kind of hard to miss." Jax snarked.

"No, I mean I can SEE them. They're soul... This creature is a puppet!?"

"Hey, that creature has a name." Pomni glared.

"I-I'm sorry. I never thought-...Poor soul." Gangle stared, transfixed. The energy from the soul escaped through the cracks of the crystal containing it's D.I.E. She read what came through. "You saved them..." She looked at Jax.

"What?" Jax looked behind him, like Gangle could be talking to someone else.

"The last memory they have is you stopping the silver beast from killing them. You're a hero."

Jax blinked. "You know what? We haven't had a chance to secure the perimeter. I'm going for a walk." He turned on his heel and made for a side door outside.

"Jax?" Gangle called after.

"Let him go." Caine said, not looking up from Shadowblade.

"I think I insulted him. I didn't mean to." Gangle said.

Pomni huffed. "I'll have to remember that the next time I don't want him to bother me."

~

"Am...I...dead?" Shadowblade asked Mother.

"Not in a way that matters." She cryptically responded. "Won't you eat? You need your strength."

Shadowblade looked down at the bowl and considered eating but something blocked out the sun coming through the window. Shadowed mist poured in through every window and under the door and even the cracks. Shadowblade stood so fast, their chair fell over.

Mother didn't react, watching Shadowblade solemnly. "I wish we had more time..."

Shadowblade breathed heavily, they had no means of defense. They were small and weak and fragile as just a human. Ominous mechanical growling came from outside, from all sides of the tiny house. The mist filled the building, choking Shadowblade's throat and stinging their eyes. They fumbled blindly for a door but found nothing. The building they were in was gone. There was only darkness.

A golden light shined down on them. Two large eyes peered from the shadows. Shadowblade ran, but no matter how fast or far they thought they went, they couldn't get away from the eyes watching them. Ever nearer.

They ran until the eyes were on them. A beaked maw large enough to swallow them whole descended upon them. Then, they were the eyes. Feeling tall and powerful...and cold.

The mist dispersed to reveal an unknown battlefield. Human bodies by the hundreds were piled and rotting. Puppets torn to uncountable pieces littered the landscape. They knew this was their doing. They never failed a mission. Obey the Master. Seek and destroy.

Behind the stoic mechanical eyes was horror beyond comprehension. Shadowblade was realizing for the first time the true weight of what they'd done. All those people, humans and puppets alike, dead by their hand. The blood that stained their soul would never wash away.

~

Caine focused hard on putting all of his energy into healing Shadowblade, mending vital systems first. Pomni stood watch, keeping a com handy if Jax reported something. Gangle sat with her eyes locked on Shadowblade's core, taking in as much information as she could gather.

"Shadowblade is a she..." Gangle commented.

"Do you know her name?" Pomni asked.

"Not yet. Their a lot of memory to sift through and...most of it is as this form. She's been a puppet much longer than she was a human."

"Fucking hell..." Pomni grimaced.

"She fought in the war." Gangle added. "Against her will."

Caine tossed Gangle the charm. "You can thank this for that."

Gangle examined the ruinic stone. "SB... Shadowblade?"

"No, but an amazing coincidence." Caine answered. "Probably why they liked the name to begin with."

Pomni's com came to life with Jax's voice. "Hey, you bonzos wanna see something cool? Go outside, south side of the warehouse, and follow the ramp down."

"Really? You want to look for more trouble?" Caine guffawed. "We're lucky this place isn't swarming with marionettes."

"I'm sure that silver beast over there took care of anything troublesome a long time ago. I need to stretch my legs." Pomni left to go see what Jax wanted to show them.

Gangle stayed, putting a sympathetic hand on Shadowblade. "What will we do when she wakes up?"

"I don't know..." Caine answered honestly. "Figure out how to communicate, that's for sure, but otherwise, I'm not sure what we could do for her."

"Maybe a new body? Like the rest of us?"

"If that's what she wants, but I'll have to figure out how to safely extract the D.I.E from the crystal. This is all unique technology and I don't want to risk severing her soul from the mortal plane."

Gangle frowned, seeing more of Shadowblade's memories and state of mind. "What if she wanted you to do that?"

Caine paused. "Then I would understand." He left it at that.

~

Pomni met Jax on a subsection of the warehouse. They were in what looked like a massive subway tunnel system, but there were no rails. A tunnel to their left was collapsed, a train buried in the debris. To their right, an open tunnel with an odd looking train intact and waiting for passengers that would never come.

"We need to work on your definition of cool, Jax." Pomni looked around, bored.

"You don't know what these are, do you?" Jax forced open a hatch near the front of the complete train.

Pomni saw writing on the side of the nose of the train. "Mobile Operative Transport, Sector I."

"Exactly! It's a MOTSI! One in good condition, too. These living trains took people back and forth across and to other cities super fast. I rode more than a few in my time. Always fun."

"Living..?"

Jax activated a power stitch in the front car and the train came to life with a loud hum. As it shifted, the front of the train shook debris off its head raising it slightly from the ground. Bright yellow lights shined in Pomni's face.

"Ha! It still works!" Jax cheered. "We just got our ticket out of here."

The MOTSI train was more snake-like now that it was active. A faded white and red paint job was down the entire length of it's body. The hatch Jax had opened shut him inside and the train went off through to the only available opening in front of it.

Pomni stepped aside, avoiding being accidentally crushed against the wall. The movement of the giant train made the earth beneath it rumble. It forces it's way out of the smaller entrance, under Jax's direction, and breaks free of the underground railroad.

All the noise got Caine and Gangle to rush outside, prepared to fight, only to see a massive metal snake coil itself around a building. Jax popped out of the top front section, behind the head, and jumped down. "I got us a ride home. You're welcome." He smirked.

The snake stayed put, watching Jax.

Pomni joined the others. "This is getting ridiculous. Why can't we find any small pets."

"I was about to ask the same thing." Caine stared up at the snake train.

~

Shadowblade tore at their body. Their claws ripped away armor and spikes and cut into vitals. They tried to speak, only roars and rumbles of anger and agony came out. All they could hear were their own thoughts.

I am not a monster.

I am NOT a monster!

I AM NOT YOUR PUPPET!

I AM ME!!

They dug their claws into their chest. The crystal cracked under their grip. The pain was immense.

YOU DO NOT CONTROL ME ANY MORE!!

Shadowblade roared as mist poured from them. It formed a shadowy silhouette of their form, glaring back with the same golden eyes.

YOU ARE NOT ME!!

Shadowblade crushed their own core. Golden shards fell like stars from their chest. A white light beamed from the center of the crystal, piercing the shadow. It scattered in the harsh light.

I am...me.

Shadowblade's mind felt clearer. More memories came, but they didn't hurt. They flowed freely like a river that had been dammed for too long, washing away the barrier that held them back from feeling human.

~

Caine went back to Shadowblade alone, the others entertained by their new pet. He was about to continue repairs when a sharp sound from the core for his attention. He watched in amazement as thin black tendrils sprouted from the center of the crystal, forcing their way out through the cracks.

The new flesh wove itself into Shadowblade's inner workings, spreading across the entire body like vines. Shadowblade's eyes slowly brightened as she came to consciousness.

Caine smiled softly, putting a hand on Shadowblade's head. "Welcome back."

Shadowblade rumbled, happy to see a familiar face.

~~~

To be continued...

[bloatedandalone04]

In The Way I Need You | Part 4

Series Masterlist

➪in which clay becomes more and more aware of his feelings for you, and you grow more and more attached to both him and joey.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Clay Beresford: Stuck at work for a bit longer today. Are you able to get Joey ready for bed again? 

You glanced up at the kid who was sitting on the living room floor, his head propped up on a pillow as he skimmed through a picture book. You had babysat a lot of kids throughout high school, but Joey was by far the cutest and sweetest child you had ever met. You had grown so attached to him in so little time, and you were beginning to fear that maybe being around him and his dad so much would end badly, but you didn’t want your time with them to ever end. 

Clay was so kind and not at all like the stereotypical rich guy who just cares about his job and money. He adored his kid and had a close relationship with his mother and so obviously cared deeply about those around him. You met him because he had helped you out with directions, surely making himself late for work because of that, but never rushed during the entire time you and him talked. 

He was about to single-handedly ruin your standards for men.

Of course I can. He just finished dinner, so I’ll let him relax for a bit before putting him in the bath. 

Clay Beresford: Thank you. I’ll pay you extra again for the trouble. Just tell him I’ll be there before he falls asleep so I can say goodnight to him. 

No need to pay extra. Got more than enough last night, Mr Businessman. I’ll let him know. See you later. 

You set your phone down and got off the couch. Sitting on the carpet next to Joey, you ruffle his hair a bit and smile at the laugh that escapes him. “Would you like me to read to you before your bath?” You offer and he nods, sitting up and moving onto your lap. 

You wrap your arms around him and begin reading The Kissing Hand. Once you are done, Joey leans back against you and plays with the charms on your bracelet. “That book is like my dad and I,” he says and your heart swells and breaks at the same time. 

The Kissing Hand was a book about a mother raccoon and son raccoon, and you were once again reminded that the sweet kid on your lap was robbed of his own mother at such a young age. 

Not because she tragically died or anything. No, she willingly left both him and Clay as if she thought she could live a better life somewhere else without them in it. 

Your eyes stung a bit as you leaned down and kissed the top of his head before you began to really think about it. “You love your dad, huh?”

He nods and looks at the picture on the front of the book. “He’s my best friend,”

You blink away the few tears that formed as you stand up with him in your arms. “You’re sweet, you know that?” You murmur as you carry him upstairs and into the bathroom. “Do you want a lot of bubbles or only a little?” You ask as you turn the water on and look at him from over your shoulder. 

He gives you a crooked smile from his spot on the footstool. “Grandma puts a lot in. Daddy doesn’t,”

You smile back as you stand up. “Looks like you’re getting a lot tonight,”

After letting him sit in the bath for a while and then helping him change into his pajamas, you sit next to him on his bed as he tries to decide what book he wanted you to read to him. “Read this one?” He held up Lullaby Moon and you were powerless to stop yourself from agreeing. 

You were both tired by the time you finished reading it, and you had to fight off a few yawns as you set the book aside. “Did you have a good day?” You asked as you smoothed out his hair. 

Joey nodded and snuggled closer to your side. “I like it when you’re here,” he mumbled and your heart swooned a bit. 

“Yeah?” You hum with a grin. “I like it, too.”

He closes his eyes and holds onto his teddy bear. “When will daddy be home?”

“Soon, buddy,” you answer, looking over at the clock on the wall and seeing that it was nearing eight thirty. Clay must’ve gotten held up even more since he said he would be home by now, but you honestly didn’t mind sitting with Joey when he was all sleepy like this.

He was ridiculously cute and was practically Clay’s twin, and you were quickly realizing that you would rather be here with them than anywhere else. You were becoming too attached to them far too soon, and you knew you needed to get a hold of yourself. 

“He always tucks me in,” Joey whined quietly and you think your heart physically cracked a bit at that. 

“He’ll be home soon, Joey,” you promised, standing up and tugging on his covers. “It won’t be as good as the way your dad tucks you in, but can I try? See if it helps you get more comfortable?”

He nods and you take it upon yourself to gently shove the blankets under his body and position his pillow so his head was resting on it a bit better. 

“How’s that?” You ask as you kneel next to his bed. 

“Good,” he smiled and reached out to grab your hand.

“What?” You asked when you saw that his eyes were open again and he was staring up at you. “What’s the matter?”

“I miss daddy,” he answers and you could hear the quiver in his voice. 

You pout down at him and lean in to kiss the top of his head. “I know you do,” you murmur. “He’ll be back soon. Would you like me to stay with you until he gets home?”

When Joey nods, you move so you’re sitting on the carpet next to his bed, your back against the side of it and your hand locked with his smaller one. 

And as you waited for Clay to get back, the soft sounds Joey made as he fell asleep slowly but surely had your eyes shutting and your own body giving into sleep as well. 

-

“Yes, mother, I’ll let her know,” Clay muttered as he entered the house and quietly shut the door behind him, despite knowing that no one would have been able to hear it, anyway. “I’ll see you next week.”

“You’ll take care of yourself, right?” Lilith asked and he could hear the worry laced in her voice. “Maybe you should have Y/n stay over to keep an eye on you.”

“Jesus, mom, I’m twenty seven years old,” he grunted as he shoved his keys into his pocket and ascended the stairs. “She’s here to look after my kid, not yours.”

“I just worry about you, Clay,” she said quietly, making him sigh as he poked his head into the living room. He knew he wouldn’t find Joey or you in there, but he still checked anyway. 

He had gotten home much later than he expected to, and he was a bit annoyed at how his meeting went today. At about four PM he was ready to call it a day and he wanted nothing more than to go home to his kid and maybe chat up his babysitter a bit before having an early night in, but clearly that didn’t happen at all. 

“Don’t stress yourself out,” he said in a much calmer tone as he looked in the kitchen as well. He found that it was once again spotless, and his mood lifted considerably at that. His eyes narrowed at the pots drying on the dish rack, a small smile forming on his lips as he realized that you had made pasta. Joey’s favorite. “I’ll be fine. You have a nice trip, alright?”

“I’m here for business, Clay. I’d hardly call that a trip,”

The call ended not long after that as he made his way up to the third floor and peeked his head into his son’s room. While he was expecting to find Joey asleep, what was not expecting was to see you sleeping right next to him with your head on his bed and your legs folded on the floor. 

The position you had fallen asleep in would surely result in a stiff neck tomorrow, but even that didn’t seem like a good enough reason to wake you. Joey’s fingers were tangled with yours, and you both looked so peaceful, it felt like Clay’s heart had skipped a beat. 

Or he was having another heart attack at the scene in front of him. 

It was perhaps the sweetest sight he had ever seen, putting aside all the times he’s watched Joey fall asleep, and he truly didn’t think he had the strength to wake you up. 

He knew he needed to, and he knew he would begin to feel like a total creep if he were to wait any longer, so with a quiet sigh, he makes his way over to you. Kneeling down, he smiles at his son before reaching out and gently shaking your shoulder. “Y/n?” He called quietly, pulling his hand away when he saw your eyes open. 

Your gaze met his and he watched as your eyes filled with a bit of confusion. “Clay, hi,” you mumble, sitting up and looking behind you at Joey. You turn back to Clay with wide eyes and a nervous look on your face. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry I fell asleep. I put him in bed and he wanted me to sit with him until you got home then I accidentally fell asleep somehow, and-”

“Hey,” he cut you off with a laugh, getting off his knees and crouching next to you instead. “Why are you apologizing? It’s okay.”

“It’s unprofessional,” you corrected as you rubbed your face roughly. “What if I forgot to lock the door and someone broke in? Or something else happened to Joey and I missed it because I was sleeping? God, this is so embarrassing.”

Clay laughed quietly and gently took your hands in his when you kept them pressed against your face. “It’s fine, Y/n, really. Joey’s fine,” he assured you, pulling your hands away from your face. “You fed him, got him ready for bed and stayed with him until he fell asleep. I don’t care that you fell asleep, too. The door was locked so you weren’t being unsafe or anything. It’s fine.”

His hands were still holding yours, and he hesitantly pulled them away after realizing that - though he really didn’t want to.

You give him an embarrassed smile. “Okay,” you reluctantly murmur, watching as he stands up to his full height and holds his hand out to you. You take it and he pulls you up with little to no effort at all. “Thanks.”

He smiles down at you, his mind begging him to be selfish and say something that would get you to stay a little while longer. “Any plans after this?” He asks and you shake your head, lifting your shoulders in a form of a stretch. 

“No, I was just going to have an early night in,” you say with a shy smile.

Clay knew he had no business asking you what he was about to ask you, but he didn’t really care at the moment. He just witnessed you and his son in the cutest scene ever, his brain was a fuzzy mess at this point. “Would you like to stay for a bit? Other than the day we met, you and I haven’t talked much. You know, one on one. Maybe we can get to know each other better,” he suggested, his eyes a bit wide as he looked for any clues that would indicate you were uncomfortable. For safe measure he added, “Only if you want to.”

Your smile grew a bit at his words, and suddenly he felt less nervous. “Yeah, I’d love to,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”

And that was how he found himself sitting next to you on the couch in his living room. Yeah, maybe he was a bit too close to you, and yeah, maybe this lighting was making you look like something straight out of heaven, but Clay was still well aware of the fact that nothing could happen between the two of you. He was your source of income, for fucks sake. Nothing can happen.

“So, I graduated at the top of my class then moved as far as I could with the money I had saved up. They don’t tell you how expensive places are in the big city until you’re stranded in it,” you say as you lean back against the couch, a pillow placed on your lap like last time. “That’s how I found myself scrambling to find a job. I lucked out when I ran into you, oddly enough.”

Clay grinned at that as he believed that he was the lucky one. His kid adored you and it was clear you adored his kid. You were kind and genuine and you thought about both him and Joey. His mind went back to the first night you made him dinner, and the cute note you left with it. 

The same note that was still stuck to his alarm clock right now.

His mothers words echoed in the back of his head and he debated on whether or not it was too soon to ask you if you are able to stay the night so you can get Joey ready in the mornings. “I think Joey and I are the lucky ones,” he says instead. “That kid loves you already.”

You grin over at him with that pretty smile of yours and Clay felt the heat rush to his face, feeling like he didn’t really deserve to be at the center of your attention right now. Sam really fucked him up and he knew it would take a long time for him to feel whole again now that he didn’t have her anymore, but it didn’t seem so bad ever since he met you. You, for some reason, made everything seem a bit easier. “I’m glad,” you say quietly, despite Clay moving the two of you downstairs and into the living room so you wouldn’t wake Joey up with your conversation. “You’ve got a cute kid, Clay. He is far too sweet for his own good.”

Before Clay could stop himself or think about his words, he blurted out, “You and him have that in common,” he knew how inappropriate that sounded and he also knew he needed to take it back somehow or find a way to make it sound less…weird. 

But you just smile again and look away. “Well, I don’t know where I get it from, but Joey for sure gets it from his dad,” you responded and Clay had to turn away as he felt his face heat up once again.

He debated on whether or not he should just go for it and ask if you are available to stay over for a few nights. Fuck it. What’s he got to lose other than a really great babysitter? “Hey, uh….are you able to stay over from Sunday night to late Wednesday? It’s just my mom is out on this trip and I would be late for work if I were to try to get Joey ready for school on my own. There’s a guest room a few doors down from mine,”

You studied his face for a bit and he could see the smile you were fighting off as you leaned back against the couch. “Sleepovers with the Beresfords?” You tease with a small grin. “I’m honored.”

Clay forced out a laugh as he scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, you help out so much around here, and Joey would be so happy to have you around for that long,” he said then quickly added, “If you’re not able to or already have plans that’s fine. I’ll figure something else out-”

“Clay, I think we’ve already established that my social life is lacking severely at the moment,” you laughed and leaned over a bit, giving him a hint of the sweet vanilla scent of your perfume. “I’d love to stay over and help get Joey ready for school. Hey, maybe I can even help clean up this place. It’s pretty messy.”

You laugh again when Clay looks around the damn near spotless living room before he shakes his head with a smile. “Have at it,” he said back then met your eyes. You looked so pretty right now, the lamp on the side table illuminating only half your face, but you still looked so pretty. He could kiss you right now. He wanted to. Fuck, did he want to. 

Professional, Clay. Keep it professional. She’s your kid’s hot babysitter, get over it. 

He could tell himself that all he wanted, but it wouldn’t make him any more interested in actually pursuing it. “Thanks,” he said in response to your agreement. 

You smiled again and Clay felt himself leaning closer to you just slightly. He could do it right now. Say fuck it and see what it felt like to kiss you after imagining it from day one. 

Nothing can happen. Nothing can happen. Nothing can happen. 

You were a mere few inches away now, and you were clearly waiting for him to make the next move. He wanted to, so badly. 

But he waited too long. He thought about it too much and now you are pulling away with a sheepish look on your face. “It’s getting late,” you say quietly as you stand up. “I should get going.”

Clay made a move to stand up as well. “I’ll walk you to the door,”

You nodded and allowed him to guide you out of the living room and down to the first floor, where the two of you fell into your routine of him wishing you a goodnight and requesting you to let him know you got home safely before watching you get into a cab and head home.

-

Shorter chapter since I am drowning in assignments, but sleepovers are next ;)

[cosmicjoke]

Could It Be That We Finished Our Mission Way Back Then?

I think people often grossly misunderstand and often twist Levi's sense of directinlessness after Erwin died to fit some sort of interpretation of his character as being solely motivated by or only caring about Erwin, whether that's to badmouth his character as being Erwin's "sidekick" or to push this agenda of some sort of romance between them.

But as usual, with these sorts of interpretations, people cherry pick and ignore context.

The above panels are vital to understanding Levi's sense of directionlessness after Erwin's death.

He says

"Could it be that we finished our mission way back then? When we got those brats to the sea? Did the part we had to play end there?"

Levi feeling lost and without direction after they retook Wall Maria has to do with the fact that the nature of the problem they were facing completely changed. It went from freeing the people of the Walls from the threat of the Titans to suddenly facing the threat of entire nations and other countries and people.

Levi was recruited into the Survey Corps to begin with because of his exceptional skills on the ODM gear, and thus, his exceptional ability to kill Titans.

But after they retook Wall Maria, the Titan threat was pretty much eliminated. Levi's skills and the specific abilities he brought toward the end goal of attaining humanity's victory over the Titan's were no longer required. The thing he brought and was able to give humanity, his incredible physical prowess in killing Titans, was rendered basically obsolete.

His sense of directionlessness and uncertainty has to do with the fact that he no longer feels he has a role to play in saving humanity, because the problem facing them has completely shifted. He muses above about whether "their mission" was to get "those brats", meaning the younger generation, to the sea, and wonders if "the role they had to play" ended there. He's talking about attaining freedom for these kids from the Titan threat and, that being the mission of the Survey Corps, feeling like, in that moment, their own role, the veteran scouts role, was complete. Levi talks during the Uprising arc about "choosing the hell of people killing each other over the hell of being eaten", and again, he's talking about eliminating the threat of the Titans so that people can actually have a choice in how they live, even if how they choose to live is its own kind of hell.

Levi never believed in a utopian world. He just wanted people to be able to live and choose for themselves how to live. And the way he was able to help them do that was by killing Titans and ending the threat of the Titans against them. Without Titans serving as a threat, he doesn’t know how his abilities can be used anymore to help people.

Levi's sense of directionlessness after Erwin dies has got nothing to do with Levi fighting for Erwin, or this idea that, without Erwin, he doesn't know what to fight for.

He still knows what to fight for, he's still fighting for humanity and for his comrades, but he doesn't any longer know what he's supposed to do in that fight, because, again, the nature of that fight has changed, and he feels like maybe all he could do to help the younger generation attain freedom has already been done.

And particularly in relation to Erwin, it was Erwin who first showed Levi how he could best utilize his abilities to help people. It was Erwin who directed Levi in how to use his strength to free humanity, and Levi relied on that direction from Erwin toward that end. Without Erwin there to direct him, again, Levi became unsure of how his abilities could or should be used to fight for others.

So, again, his loss of direction wasn't because he lost the thing he was fighting for. He was never fighting for Erwin. He was fighting for humanity, for his comrades, for "those brats". His loss of direction was because he no longer knew what he could do to continue to help people, when the way he'd helped people was by using his great strength to eliminate a threat that, at that point, no longer really existed. Remember what Levi says to the dying soldier at the beginning of the story? "I swear to you, I'll kill every last Titan". And he promises that soldier that he'll use his sacrifice to give him strength toward that end. He makes the promise to that soldier to kill all the Titans, because that's what that soldier sacrificed his life for. It's the same promise Levi makes in his quest to kill Zeke. He makes the promise to accomplish it because it's what all those soldiers in Shinganshina died for. It's something Levi can accomplish for his comrades. It's something he can achieve to help them. Like I'm always talking about, it's not for the dream itself that Levi fights, but for people, for his comrades, and for humanity as a whole.

Being able to kill Titan's gave Levi a clear directive in that drive to help people. Being able to kill Zeke also gave Levi a clear directive in how to help his comrades.

All Levi ever cared about was helping as many people as he could. It wasn't that Levi was fighting for Erwin, and without Erwin, Levi didn't have anything left to fight for. It was about fighting for people. About helping people. He knew how to do that when the only threat they seemed to be facing was the threat of the Titans.

When the nature of that threat changed, Levi no longer knew how to help.

That doesn't mean he didn't care about helping people, or humanity. Quite the contrary. His general uncertainty and doubt in the aftermath of the RtS arc, and, subsequently, his strong desire to kill Zeke, is reflective of how much he still wanted to help others, is reflective of him searching for a way, for a clear path, toward that end. Killing Zeke was a concrete goal he could cling to in that regard. A concrete way for him to apply his abilities toward helping his comrades, particularly, the comrades that had given their lives for the goal of Zeke's death, when everything else for him was left ambiguous and unknown. When he no longer knew how he could help, even as the deep, driving desire to remained.