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finelinefae · 1 month ago

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my darling

synopsis: a love triangle

word count: 10.8k

contains: angst angst angst, love triangle, mfm, best friends to lovers, boarding school, violence, unrequited love,

a/n: i wrote this for wattpad during the My Policeman era. I wanted to post it here after re-reading it. I remember this being one of the first pieces of fanfic i felt super proud of !! warning it is pretty sad

. . .

Then — 1996

Dear Diary,

Today we moved into our new home in Halton. It’s small, quaint, and quiet—very quiet. The kind of place where everyone seems set in their routines, the same patterns repeating every day. I already miss London. Mum says this will be good for us, though. Good to get away from the drama. Good to get away from Dad.

The house isn’t as big as our old one. I have to share a room with Delilah now, but it’s fine—I’ll be off to boarding school by the end of the summer. Mum says I’ll enjoy it since she went to the same school at my age, but I think she’s just trying to make me feel better. Who actually enjoys living at school?

It’s a three-hour drive from Halton, which feels like a world away. I’m nervous, excited, sad, and happy all at once. The feelings are so overwhelming they all blur together into something I can only describe as... heavy. Like my life is a snow globe someone’s just shaken up, glitter falling everywhere. It looks magical at first, but the reality is you’re stuck cleaning it up for weeks, finding it in the oddest places long after.

I miss my dog. I never got to say goodbye.

Dad cried when we left. I’ve never seen him cry before. He told me it wasn’t goodbye, just a "see you later." Mum always says Dad’s a good liar, but I don’t think he was lying this time. Maybe it was the tears—they don’t suit him.

Dear Diary,

Today I moved into my dorm at Southend Park School.

Mum was annoyed we had to wake up before seven to pack the car and drive me down, even though this was all her idea. She’s probably just tired—or maybe something else. I have a suspicion she’s met someone. I’m not sure how she moved on from Dad so quickly. Did she ever really love him?

My dorm has six girls, including me. I’ve mostly been talking to Ellis, who’s in the room next door. She’s fourteen, older than the rest of us, but only because her birthday is the 1st of September. Today’s the third, so her advantage is technical, but she likes to remind us.

Being alone here scares me, but it’s nothing new. Delilah always had loads of friends, and Dad was always working. Mum was usually out socializing, too.

Mum cried as we finished unpacking, promising she’d pick me up for half-term or that I could come home anytime. But I don’t want to go home. I hate it there.

Tomorrow is a full day of inductions, and I’m worried about making friends. Southend Park is a mixed school, and boys make me nervous. I’d rather have no friends at all than feel like I have to pretend to be someone I’m not.

I still feel like I’m picking up glitter from months ago. I wonder when it will finally stop.

Dear Diary,

I made two friends. You’ll never guess—they’re boys!

Their names are Harry and Dylan. They’re both thirteen, like me, but they feel older somehow. They even live in the same dorm and invited me over this weekend.

We met during lunch in the courtyard. I was sitting alone when Dylan walked up first, chatting easily and cracking jokes. Harry followed behind, much quieter. Dylan has blond hair and a small scar on his eyebrow from climbing trees back in Morston. Harry’s hair is thick and curly—I wanted to touch it but stopped myself because, well, that would’ve been weird.

Harry didn’t say much at first, though I noticed him glancing at me. When I met his gaze, he blushed and looked down at his extra-polished school shoes.

We didn’t talk much again until the end of the day, on the way back to the dorms. That’s when we compared timetables and realized we share four classes, including English Literature. It’s just Harry and me in that one, though.

I never thought I’d be friends with boys, but I like it. It feels different from being friends with girls—less pressure to act outgoing or girly. I hope we stay friends. I like them both a lot.

. . .

Then — 2000

“Hey, Harry,” Y/N called, running across the field toward the headmaster’s office where Harry stood, focused on his Nokia flip phone.

Harry glanced up, his expression softening when he saw her. He tucked the phone into his pocket and waved her over. Despite the end-of-day chaos, both were still dressed in their school uniforms. “Hey, baby.” He greeted her with a quick kiss, pulling her closer and wrapping an arm around her waist. He loved how perfectly she fit against him, as though they were made for each other.

“What’s going on? Aren’t we meeting Dylan to go to Ellis’ dorm?” Y/N asked, frowning slightly as she looked around for their other best friend.

Harry smirked, shaking his head. “We are, but Dylan got caught passing notes to Casey Becker in geometry. He’s stuck with thirty minutes in the headmaster’s office to make amends.”

Y/N chuckled, her laugh warm and familiar. “Again? He’s going to get himself expelled if he’s not careful.” She slid her hands under Harry’s blazer, warming them against his torso.

Harry brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting his thumb linger on her cheekbone. “How was your day?” he murmured, his lips brushing hers as he spoke.

“It was fine,” Y/N replied. “I scored three points in netball, and Tessa Riley gave me daggers in the changing room.” She giggled, leaning into him.

Harry smiled, pride gleaming in his eyes. “That’s m’girl.” He bent down and kissed her forehead gently.

“Oh, please, don’t make me sick,” a familiar voice drawled, breaking the moment.

“Hi, Dylan.” Y/N turned to see him strolling down the stone steps, his blazer slung over his shoulder and a cigarette dangling between his fingers. She leaned back against Harry, crossing her arms.

“Hello, my darling Y/N,” Dylan teased, his tone playful as he lit the cigarette with practiced ease.

“Seriously, Dylan?” Harry said, narrowing his eyes. “Do you really need another detention?”

“Don’t you smoke, Styles?” Dylan shot back, grinning. “Besides, Mary would love to see me again after our chat earlier. She’s got a soft spot for me.” He smirked, wiping his thumb across the corner of his mouth.

Y/N rolled her eyes, stepping away from Harry’s warmth. She was long used to Dylan’s antics—four and a half years of friendship had left little room for surprises.

The three of them had been inseparable since their first days at Southend Park Boarding School. Despite their differences in personality, they were like a family unit, supporting one another through the highs and lows of adolescence.

Dylan, the loudest of the trio, was notorious for his sharp wit and knack for trouble. Teachers despaired over his behavior, but students were drawn to his charm—especially the girls, who fell for his rebellious streak and the ever-present cigarette.

Harry, by contrast, was the golden boy: smart, polite, and beloved by staff. He balanced his role as student ambassador with captaining the football team, a position that made him one of the most popular boys in school. Dylan teasingly called him a “teacher’s pet,” but Harry wore the label without shame.

Y/N was the quietest of the three, rarely seeking the spotlight. She volunteered in the school library every Tuesday and spent her free time with her dorm mates. Still, Harry and Dylan were fiercely protective of her, and she often marveled at how lucky she was to have them.

The trio walked out of the school gates toward the housing blocks, their shadows stretching long in the late afternoon sun. Harry carried Y/N’s backpack on one shoulder, his free hand clasping hers. Dylan trailed behind, typing on his phone with an unlit cigarette between his teeth.

“Ellis doesn’t want you bringing anything to the party this time, Dylan,” Y/N warned, glancing over her shoulder. “You know what happened last time. If you pull that again, you’re getting kicked out of school.”

“My darling Y/N,” Dylan began with exaggerated sincerity, pausing for effect, “only for you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile.

When they reached her dorm, Y/N kissed Harry on the cheek and took her bag from his shoulder. “I’ll see you both later?” she asked, her eyes bright.

Dylan saluted her without looking up from his phone, while Harry smiled warmly. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too, Harry,” she replied before disappearing inside.

Harry and Dylan walked in silence toward their dorm. The tension was palpable, Dylan unusually quiet as Harry’s mind churned with unspoken thoughts.

“We’re going to have to tell her at some point,” Dylan murmured, his voice low as the setting sun bathed the path in a golden glow.

Harry’s heart tightened. “No, we don’t.”

“Harry—”

“Shut up, Dylan. Nothing happened.” Harry’s voice was sharp, cutting Dylan off before he could continue.

They stopped, staring at each other, the air between them heavy. Harry’s frustration burned in his eyes, while Dylan’s sadness hung like a weight on his shoulders.

“I love her,” Harry finally said, his voice trembling. “I’ll never love anyone else as much as I love Y/N.”

Without another word, he turned and stormed into their dormitory, leaving Dylan alone on the pavement. Dylan exhaled shakily, the ache in his chest unbearable.

. . .

Then — 1998

Dear Diary,

It’s been a month since my fifteenth birthday, and Harry finally asked me out on a date. It feels like a dream, the kind where everything is so perfect you fear waking up to find it never happened.

To be honest, I think I’m already in love with him. He’s always been so kind to me, much more than Dylan. Harry carries my bag to class when I have netball, and sometimes, during English Literature, I catch him staring at me. There’s something about the way his gaze lingers that makes me feel seen.

In art class, he taught me how to use watercolors for the first time, his thumb brushing against mine as he guided me. Little moments like that remind me how much I care for him—so much that the thought of being without him feels unbearable. Is that dramatic? Probably. But I can’t help it if it’s true.

Even when I’m talking to Ellis during lunch or before bed, my mind wanders back to Harry—his smile, his eyes, the way he laughs at my jokes even when they aren’t funny, and how he hugs me differently from everyone else.

It feels strange to be fifteen and falling so deeply. What do I know about love at this age? How much further can I fall?

I think I’m going to love him forever. I hope he loves me forever too.

Dear Diary,

Harry kissed me today. My first kiss—with the boy I love most in the entire world.

I knew it was going to happen. We’d just finished dinner in the dining hall when he asked if I wanted to take a walk in the gardens. Dylan wanted to come along, but Harry shook his head, saying he wanted it to be just the two of us.

I felt a twinge of guilt when I looked back and saw Dylan standing there, his expression heavy as he watched us leave. He kept staring at Harry, even as we walked past the window overlooking the gardens.

Harry brought me to the tulips because he knows they’re my favorite. He said my braid looked pretty today, and that’s when I knew—I truly, completely loved him. It was the worst braid I’ve ever done, but he still thought it was beautiful.

We sat on a swinging bench, listening to birds returning to their nests. When he said my name, it sounded magical, like it had been made for his lips alone. I turned to look at him, and that’s when he leaned in and kissed me.

It felt like a scene from a movie.

No one ever tells you what it’s like to kiss someone for the first time. The way their breath mingles with yours, the world fading away as you close your eyes and step into a place so tender it consumes you. It makes you wonder if you’ve ever been truly loved before.

We only stopped because we heard a rustling in the bushes. We looked around but didn’t find anything, so Harry walked me back to my dorm. He kissed me again outside the door, and I floated through the rest of the night, humming to myself as I got ready for bed.

But when I think back to that moment, I could swear I saw a tuft of blond hair sticking out from behind a bush.

. . .

Now — 2000

Y/N sat cross-legged in front of the mirror on Ellis’ floor, carefully applying mascara as Fiona Apple played softly in the background. Ellis sat nearby, painting her nails a deep red.

“I’m just saying,” Ellis began, waving the brush for emphasis, “you and Harry have been dating for two years, and you haven’t done the deed yet?”

Y/N flushed at the mention of sex, shifting uncomfortably. She hated talking about it, even with Harry. Maybe it was because she didn’t know much about it or because she’d never had a safe space to ask questions, but every time the topic came up—whether in conversation or during truth or dare—she wanted to run for cover.

“We’re waiting for the right time,” Y/N said evenly, her voice robotic as she repeated the well-rehearsed answer.

“The right time?” Ellis scoffed. “I’ve never seen a couple more in love—it’s nauseating.”

Y/N hesitated, her mind drifting to moments when she’d wanted to take things further with Harry. But he always stopped before it went too far. Sometimes it made her feel like she wasn’t enough—pretty enough, desirable enough—but then he’d kiss her softly and remind her how beautiful she was, stroking her cheek as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “We’ve done... things, but not that.”

“Is Harry religious or something?” Ellis asked, narrowing her eyes.

“No, I don’t think so,” Y/N replied with a frown. “He’s never mentioned it.”

“Maybe he’s waiting until marriage,” Ellis mused.

The thought of marrying Harry made Y/N’s heart swell. She’d dreamed of it ever since their first kiss in the gardens—walking down the aisle in a white dress, Harry waiting for her at the end, tears in his eyes. Maybe they’d both cry.

“I don’t mind waiting,” Y/N said, her voice soft but certain. “I love him enough to wait as long as he needs me to.”

Ellis groaned, grabbing a bottle of vodka from her bedside table. “You can’t say stuff like that when I haven’t had a single drink.” She poured herself a shot and downed it in one go. “Okay, continue.”

Y/N laughed and turned back to her reflection, humming Queen’s Love of My Life as her thoughts drifted back to Harry.

. . .

Then — 1998

Dear Harry,

Today we went to the beach—the three of us. Me, you, and Y/N. I know in most situations it’s you, Y/N, then me, but in these letters, it will always be me and you.

We’d been planning this trip for weeks. It’s a three-hour drive to the coast from school, and Y/N had been complaining about the journey the entire time. I didn’t mind. Is it wrong of me to want to sit next to you on a bus full of people not one of them knowing who we are for three whole hours? Our knees touching for three whole hours? Sand on your feet and your hair salty from the sea, inhaling your scent and wanting your hand to touch my thigh for three whole hours?

When we got there, the morning was overcast, but by the time we hit the sand, the sun broke through the clouds. It was perfect. The light caught your skin, making it glisten, and your eyes shone with that impossible sea-glass green. I wanted to look into them forever, but you were too busy looking at Y/N.

I tried to catch your attention—touching your shoulder as I passed by, reaching for the beach bag at the same time as you, brushing my fingers against yours. But it didn’t matter. You only had eyes for her, and I only had eyes for you.

When you kissed her in the gardens, a part of me died. I had been pining for you for so long, silently hoping you’d see me, but it was always her. I felt stupid, running miles afterward, the wind howling in my ears: You fool, you idiot, how could he ever love you?

I didn’t want to feel this way, Harry. I tried to bury it, to pretend it wasn’t real, but when I met you, everything I’d hidden about myself unraveled.

The day wasn’t without its drama. Y/N, distracted, stepped into the road thinking the approaching van was the bus. You moved so fast, grabbing her and pulling her back before the van could hit her. I watched the terror flash across your face, the way you held her afterward as she cried. You kissed her forehead, comforted her, showed her the kind of love I’d only ever dreamed of.

And I hated her for it.

I feel terrible admitting this because I do love Y/N. I truly do. But most days, I hate her, and only because she has you.

When we finally got to the beach, the three of us ran toward the waves, shedding our clothes as we went, laughing like we were carefree children. For a moment, we were. We left our troubles behind in the sand.

You swung Y/N over your shoulder as you splashed into the water, and I couldn’t help but admire the way your muscles flexed. You were a work of art, Harry, something meant to be admired in a gallery. And I was nothing more than an observer, longing for what I could never have.

Later, Y/N went to get ice cream. Before she left, she asked for your order, and I already knew what you’d say—mint chocolate chip. The way she looked surprised made me feel smug for a second, but that quickly disappeared when she said it was her favorite too.

While she was gone, I felt a cramp in my shoulder. “Let me,” you murmured, and before I could answer, your fingertips ghosted over my shoulder, pressing into the tight muscle.

I couldn’t breathe, Harry. You were so close, your breath warm against my neck. For a split second, I thought if I just turned my head, I could kiss you.

I’ll never forget that moment for as long as I live. Even if you do.

. . .

Now — 2000

Dylan and Harry were in their dorm room, preparing for the party. Harry stood in front of the mirror, anxiously gelling his hair back.

“I think I’m going to do it,” Harry said suddenly, turning to face Dylan. “I’m going to go all the way with Y/N.”

Dylan froze, his heart sinking. He lit a cigarette, trying to appear nonchalant as he perched on the windowsill. “Really? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” His voice betrayed him, tinged with irritation and jealousy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m just saying, are you sure it’s the right time to sleep with her? After... what happened?”

Harry’s expression darkened. “Nothing happened. It was a mistake.”

“You keep saying that,” Dylan said, standing now, his voice rising. “Like you’re trying to gaslight me into thinking I imagined it. But I’ve imagined kissing you enough times to know what’s real and what’s not.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching. “I was drunk, and you took advantage of me.”

The words hit Dylan like a slap, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Don’t try that with me, Harry. It might work in your petty arguments with Y/N, but it won’t work on me. You’re the one twisting the truth to fit your narrative.”

“I don’t care what you think,” Harry snapped. “I only care about Y/N. And if you can’t handle that, maybe you need to step away—from both of us.”

“Step away?” Dylan said incredulously, his voice breaking. “You want me to walk away from the only two people who’ve ever cared about me? You want me to walk away from you?”

Harry hesitated, guilt flickering across his face. “You know how I feel about Y/N. I love her. I’m in love with her. Even if I felt something for you, it would never compare.”

“You’re lying,” Dylan whispered, his eyes glassy. “If you loved her so much, you wouldn’t have kissed me in the first place.”

“You don’t know anything!” Harry exploded, his voice shaking with fury. “Do you know what would happen if someone found out? What it would do to Y/N? To us? I felt nothing! It was a mistake!”

“Harry—”

“No,” Harry cut him off. “Whatever feelings you have, whatever intentions, you need to get over them.”

“That’s not as easy as you think—”

“You have to.” Harry’s voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument. Dylan stared at him, shattered, as Harry turned and stormed out.

He left Dylan standing there, broken, feeling like Harry had taken his very soul with him.

. . .

Then — 1999

Dear Harry,

We’ve been assigned as partners in media class, and now we have to make a music video. Naturally, you asked Y/N if she’d star in it. You told her she was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen and that she’d be perfect for it. She blushed, of course, and said yes. Then you kissed her—so long and so deeply that I had to look away.

I imagined myself in her place, wondering what it would be like to kiss you in public, to have the world see how much I adored you. If it were allowed, I don’t think I’d ever stop kissing you.

Today, we filmed the music video. You wanted it to feel like a coming-of-age story. I’d wanted something more abstract, but I agreed to your ideas, nodding eagerly at every suggestion, whether it was brilliant or terrible.

We filmed in the gardens—my least favorite place in the entire school. That’s where you kissed Y/N for the first time, and if I could erase that night from my memory, I would in a heartbeat.

The sun was shining as you whispered into Y/N’s ear while I set up the camera. I tried to block out the sound of your laughter, the sight of her hand on your shoulder.

“Are we ready?” I called, my voice louder than I intended. You straightened up immediately.

“Dylan, why don’t you be in the video with me?” Y/N smiled warmly. She had that rare ability to make everyone feel seen, like she was radiating sunshine. It was impossible not to smile back.

“My darling, you know I’m not nearly as perfect as you,” I teased, watching her blush.

I don’t even remember when I started calling her “my darling.” The first time, I remember catching the flash of jealousy in your eyes. I liked that. I liked seeing you react to me, even if it wasn’t in the way I wanted. You’re used to it now, but sometimes, when I say it, I still see a flicker of something in your gaze.

The music video took all day to shoot. Every time Y/N nailed a scene, you rewarded her with a kiss. I worked hard too, Harry. Shouldn’t I have been rewarded in some way?

When Y/N left for her library shift that evening, it was just the two of us. You wanted to capture the soft glow of the sunset, so we stayed behind to get more footage.

“My mother wants me to go into politics,” you said as we sat cross-legged on the grass, the camera between us. “But I’d love to do this—be a director. I’ve always wanted to be an artist of some kind. It’s a silly dream, but I think about it all the time.”

I could imagine it. You had a way of leading people, commanding attention without being arrogant. You cared so deeply—for the art, for the people—that it would probably destroy you someday.

“It’s not silly,” I said. “It’s never silly to dream. My God, Harry, we only live once. Might as well do everything we can to feel something in the little time we have.”

You looked at me then, really looked at me. For the first time, I thought you might be feeling a fraction of what I felt every day. “I’ve never told anyone that before. Not even Y/N knows.”

“It’ll be our secret,” I whispered. And for a moment, I could’ve sworn you glanced at my lips.

Then, just as quickly, you diverted the topic. Grabbing the camera, you aimed it at me lying in the grass. “Looks like Y/N’s not the only model anymore,” you teased.

I tried to act indifferent, but I would’ve stayed there all night if it meant seeing you laugh like that.

It makes me wonder, Harry—do you know how much power you have over your friends? Do you know that you have two people who worship the ground you walk on? How does it feel to be desired? How does it feel to have a choice in who you love?

. . .

Now — 2000

“You’re here!” Y/N beamed, running into Harry’s arms and wrapping her hands around his neck.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, kissing her temple before setting her down.

The party was already in full swing. Students from across campus had crammed into Ellis’ dorm, the air thick with music, laughter, and the faint smell of alcohol.

“Hi, Dylan,” Y/N greeted, pulling him into a tight hug. “You’re dressed pretty smart. Planning on impressing anyone tonight?”

“Only you, darling,” Dylan replied, forcing a wink and a smirk despite the ache in his chest. Harry’s words from earlier still rang in his ears, but he pushed them aside.

Harry’s eyes darted to the cup in Y/N’s hand. “Have you been drinking?” he asked, his tone light but concerned.

“It’s water,” she whispered with a smile. Harry relaxed. She wasn’t much of a drinker, and he knew that.

“You look so pretty,” he said, marvelling at her dress. It was the one she wore for special occasions—one he had once told her was his favourite. A pang of guilt pricked at his heart as she looked back at him, her doe eyes filled with love.

“Come dance with me!” she said, pulling him toward the living room. “Both of you! My boys!”

Harry and Dylan followed her to the dance floor. The song Love My Way blared through the speakers, and Y/N moved between them, carefree and radiant.

At first, Harry danced with her, his focus entirely on Y/N. But then his gaze shifted to Dylan, who was swaying along with the music. Something unspoken passed between them, an invisible thread pulling them closer.

Harry laughed when Dylan moved towards him and for a moment they had forgotten everything around them. Dylan was just Dylan and Harry was just Harry, two boys who felt something they weren’t allowed to feel in the eyes of everyone else.

Harry was so close, their faces almost touching and for a moment Dylan thought they might kiss. But the blissful moment was broken as Harry stepped away, shaking his head, “N-No.” He whispered, “No, No, No.” He shook his head, his eyes frantic in search of Y/N.

“O-Oh, Harry,” Y/N yelped as he grabbed hold of her hand and lead her out of Ellis’ dorm and over to her own, three doors down from where the party was happening.

“What are you doing? Are you okay?” She cups his face in her hands and he exhales, trying to regain composure. This was the girl he loved, the only girl he could ever love and being in her hands felt like home. Didn’t it?

“Y-Y/N, I-I think I’m ready.” He presses his forehead against hers, kissing her bottom lip. “I’m ready.”

Her lips part in shock. She hadn’t been expecting this tonight and she wasn’t sure where Harry’s sudden desperation was coming from. He kissed down her neck as she tried to speak to him, “H-Harry, a-are you sure?” He nodded, his mouth leaving open mouthed kisses on her shoulder.

“I love you Y/N.” He looked into her eyes and she saw the sincerity behind them but also a hint of something else that she couldn’t quite place.

He started to peel her clothing off, his fingertips gently brushing against her soft skin. She tried to steady her breathing but her chest caved in and out as the oxygen in the room seemed to be escaping as he moved down her body. “Harry,” She whispered and he could hear the desperation in her voice. She reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers together.

Y/N was stripped down to her bra and underwear. This was the most skin she had revealed to anybody but she trusted Harry with everything in her, he was her best friend. He blew warm air over the thin material of her bra and her nipples hardened, an overwhelming sense of desire and lust flooding her insides. It was so new and overwhelming, her hands shaking as she ran her fingers through his hair and tugged on the roots.

“Baby,” He whispered, his hands cupping her thighs as he pressed kisses down her body.

“Harry, wait.” She murmured, his eyes looking up from where he was laying between her legs, “You’re still dressed.” She sat up and tugged on the hem of his sweater.

He laughed softly, as she struggled to pull the sweater over his head. She marvelled at the sound and kissed the tip of his nose. He pulled her onto his lap and she grinded her hips against his, “God look at you.” He whispered. “Don’t leave me Y/N. You can never leave me.”

“I’m never going to.” She said it like it was a promise.

His hands hooked the straps of her bra and he gently pulled them down, her breath hitching as the pad of his thumb brushed against the side of her breast. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in tightly, his face burying into the crook of her neck as he inhaled her.

This was going to be perfect, she thought, nothing could go wrong.

She grinded her hips against him again, a groan eliciting from his lip and a name escaping past the lips he had kissed her with so many times.

“Dylan.” Y/N froze. Her blood ran cold, and she pulled away as though Harry’s touch burned her.

“What did you say?” She pulled away, suddenly being naked in front of him didn’t feel right, being in a space alone with him didn’t feel right, everything she had ever felt for him before this moment didn’t feel right.

“Y/N,” He reached for her but she slipped away from him, slipped out of his touch, a touch she begged for just moments ago.

Harry’s heart no longer existed, wherever it was it had abandoned him and left him here in this terrible moment to fend for himself. He felt his eyes well up with tears as he watched Y/N try to pick up her discarded clothes. This wasn’t how it was meant to be, she was suppose to be picking up his clothes after a night making love to each other.

“Y-You said his name.” Y/N whimpered, she was panicking and Harry could do nothing but watch.

“Baby I-”

“NO.” She spat, “You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.”

Harry watched as she turned around and clutched at her head, her knees buckling as she fell to the ground. She sobbed and sobbed, his hear wrenching at the sound of it. He had never heard a sound so painful in his life and he wanted to die in this very moment.

“No, No, No, No.” She sobbed, her shoulders shaking.

“Y/N please just let me explain.” Harry tried, crouching down in front of her and trying to place a hand on her now clothed shoulder.

“NO.” She pushed him away and leaped back, her back hitting the wall.

Harry was broken. He was truly broken. This was something well out of his reach in fixing and nothing he could do or say could make up for the fact that he had hurt the two people he loved and cherished the most in this world, in the span of one night.

“Get out of my room!” She began to scream, “Get out of here!”

A knock at the door shattered the silence.

“Hey, you guys in there?” Dylan’s voice called from the hallway.

Before Harry could respond, Y/N lunged for the door, anger blazing in her eyes.

“Get out of my room!” she screamed, her voice raw with betrayal.

Harry caught her before she reached Dylan, her fists pounding against his chest. “I’m broken,” she whimpered, her strength fading. “You broke me.”

And for the first time, Harry knew what it felt like to be utterly powerless.

. . .

Then — 2000

Dear Diary,

You know those secrets so big they feel like they could swallow you whole? The kind you promise never to tell a soul for as long as you live? At first, they consume you, taking over every thought and breath. But over time, they settle into the corners of your mind, a quiet part of you that only stirs when something triggers it.

Well, today I made one of those secrets.

It was a Tuesday, the day I volunteer in the library after school. There’s something peaceful about wandering the empty halls when no one else is around—a stark contrast to the chaos between periods. Mrs. Ableton asked me to deliver a stack of books to the English Literature cupboard. Our copies of The Catcher in the Rye were practically falling apart, so we’d ordered replacements.

As I walked through the hall, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye near the classroom where Harry and I have English together. Curious, I paused, almost dropping the books in my hands.

Harry was leaning against a desk, and Dylan stood in front of him. At first, I thought nothing of it and smiled, reaching for the door handle to make myself known. But then Dylan stepped closer, touched Harry’s hand, and kissed him.

I froze.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The same lips that had kissed mine were now kissing the lips of my best friend.

I wanted to cry, but I was too shocked to do anything but stand there, watching. A part of me hoped I was trapped in a nightmare—that I’d wake up, call Harry, and laugh about how silly it all was. But when Dylan pulled back, Harry grabbed his arm and kissed him again.

That time, I couldn’t watch.

I backed away, the tears finally falling. My mind raced as I searched for somewhere—anywhere—I could cry louder, scream even, because this wasn’t something I could cry about quietly.

Harry was mine. But he was also Dylan’s.

By the time I went to bed, I’d convinced myself I would confront them. I’d tell them I saw what happened and ask if we could move on, pretend it never happened. But as the hours stretched on, I realized I didn’t want to speak about it. Talking about it would mean reliving it, over and over.

I didn’t want to remember.

I just wanted Harry.

So, this is a secret I’ll take to my grave. I’ll never tell a soul I watched Harry kiss Dylan in a way he never kissed me.

Even if it breaks me.

. . .

Now — 2000

“What happened?” Dylan asked. They were back in his dorm now, Harry pacing the room like a caged animal.

“She knows,” Harry muttered, his fingers pulling at his hair—a habit whenever he was upset. “She knows about us, what we did.”

Dylan collapsed onto the bed, his face pale. “How?”

Harry stopped and turned to him, shame written all over his face. “I said your name.”

Dylan’s shoulders sagged, and he buried his face in his hands. Images of Y/N, broken and sobbing on her bedroom floor, flashed through his mind. She had begged them to fix her, but they were the ones who broke her.

“It’s fine,” Harry rambled, his voice shaking. “I-I’ll give her some time, however long she needs. Then I’ll explain. I’ll explain it was a misunderstanding.”

“Harry,” Dylan said gently, standing to take Harry’s hands in his own. “I don’t think there’s enough time in the world for Y/N to get over this.”

Harry’s breath hitched, and a sob escaped him as he crumpled into Dylan’s arms. Dylan ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, resting his cheek against Harry’s head. “It’s okay, love,” he whispered. “Everything will be alright.”

“I hurt her so bad, Dylan,” Harry cried. “I love her, and I hurt her.”

“She was always going to find out,” Dylan said softly, the truth cutting deeper than any lie.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” Harry whispered.

Dylan sighed. “Why do you always talk about how things are meant to be? You act like your life was mapped out before you left the womb. Was it ‘meant to be’ that the three of us became inseparable? That you fell in love with both of us because you care so deeply? That I fell in love with you because you see art in everything? None of this was ‘meant to be,’ Harry. It just happened. And now we deal with it.”

Harry pulled back, tears streaking his face. “You still love me? Even after I pushed you away?”

Dylan smiled sadly, wiping a tear from Harry’s cheek. “I love you despite everything.”

Harry’s lips ghosted over Dylan’s, and for a moment, it felt like all their pain had been lifted. “Dylan,” Harry whispered, his voice trembling as he said the name again and again, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You can say my name as much as you want, love,” Dylan murmured. “I’ll always be here.”

. . .

Three weeks passed and the friends were no longer talking to each other, instead they acted as though they didn’t know each other as they passed each other in the hallway.

Harry had to try and not flinch when he saw Y/N scurry pass him, her eyes red and bloodshot as Ellis comforted her, glaring at Harry as they did. He wanted to speak to her but he was never given the chance to, rightly so considering what he had done to her.

Dylan and Harry, mostly Harry, thought it would best to keep their distance for a while. It killed them both to not be around each other but for the sake of their friendship with Y/N, they shared small moments of brief eye contact and touches throughout the day. Neither of them knew what was to come for the both of them but this limbo was enough for now.

Dylan ate lunch alone and as he did, he listened to the conversations of everyone around him. He wondered what it felt like for them to go about their day feeling like they belong in their own skin and not feel ashamed over who they love. He had never felt so alienated and so out of touch with himself.

He had been given an after school detention for an hour with Mr Henley after calling him sexist in front of the class. No one was around when he left the classroom until he saw a group of girls walking across the field.

At the end of the line was Y/N, wearing her netball uniform.

She must have caught sight of him because the next thing he knew, she was walking up to him. He had to check behind him to see he was seeing correctly.

“Hi Dylan,” She keeps her distance for reasons unknown to him but being around her again made him relax, he missed the friendship he shared right at the very beginning when they were thirteen and picking each other up from class to go to the sweet shop after school.

“Hey Y/N.” He offers her a smile.

“How are you doing?” He didn’t miss the way she gripped her bag like she was trying to stop herself from saying anything she really wanted to.

“I feel like I should be asking you that.” Y/N huffs, “I’ve had better days.” “Y/N-”

“Just tell me this,” She starts, “H-How long?”

Dylan decided he would be as honest and as straight to the point as he could be, it was what she deserved at least.

“Y/N the only thing we did was kiss one time. Harry stopped it because he’s in love with you.”

“And you’re in love with him.”

“Y-Yes.”

Y/N laughs incredulously, “We could never just be three best friends could we? It was always going to be complicated.”

“We could still be best friends Y/N.”

“But it’s not the same now is it?” She bit back and Dylan realised he needed to be careful with what he said. “Is he sad?”

“Terribly. Sometimes I hear him crying in his room at night.”

A silence fell between them which was strange. Y/N and Dylan has always had a brother-sister relationship, Dylan was always one to tease Y/N and make her laugh but right now it seemed all he was doing was making her upset.

“I’m moving schools.” Y/N confessed, “At the end of the term, I’m moving to Bridgewater. Mum’s moving in with her fiancee, and she wants me to be closer.”

“When were you going to tell us?” Dylan was shocked.

“I was given the choice. I could stay here or move to another school but if I stayed I’d have to stay at my dad’s during the holidays and I’m not in the mood to be lectured during my time away from school.”

Dylan didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t fathom the three of them not being together for such a long period of time. “I know what you’re thinking. I know I need to tell him but if we are going to have a shot at being friends again, I need to be away from you both.”

“Y/N,” Dylan shakes his head, “It doesn’t have to be like this,”

“You know I saw you when you kissed each other in the English Literature classroom?” She confessed, Dylan’s lips parting. “He kissed you in a way that he never kissed me. Everytime we kissed afterwards all I could think about was how different it was, how I desperately wanted him to kiss me the way I had seen him kiss you. I used to write in my diary about how I would die if I didn’t have him near me. I thought he would be the end of me but I didn’t realise you would be too.”

“I know he loves you Dylan and... I’m happy for you but I’m not selfless enough to stand beside you both and watch you fall in love when I so desperately love him too.”

“Y/N,” Dylan reaches out for her hand and takes it, “I’m sorry.” “I know Dylan, I know.”

. . .

Now — 2000

Harry’s leg wouldn’t stop jittering as he sat outside the school library on a Tuesday evening. He’d been waiting for this moment for weeks, replaying it over and over in his mind. He had spent countless hours rehearsing his apology to Y/N until it became a permanent loop in his thoughts.

When the library door swung open, he shot up immediately, brushing down his school trousers and running a hand through his hair. Y/N stepped out, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and her backpack slung over her shoulder.

She looked better than she had in weeks, and Harry’s heart ached at the sight of her. He would have carried her bag for her if they were still together.

Her expression changed when she saw him, her voice barely above a whisper. “H-Harry.”

“I came,” he said quickly, the words tumbling out. “I-I couldn’t believe it when I got your text. I’d have waited here for hours if you hadn’t shown up.”

Her face softened briefly, but she walked past him. “Follow me,” she said simply.

He trailed behind her as she led him to the gardens—the place where they’d shared their first kiss and filmed the music video for his and Dylan’s project. It was a space filled with memories of the three of them: Y/N doing homework, Dylan reading, and Harry strumming his guitar.

They sat down on the swinging bench, a familiar seat now heavy with unspoken tension. Harry noticed she kept her distance, and though every fiber of his being wanted to pull her close, he knew it wasn’t the right time.

“Who gave you those?” Harry finally asked, nodding at the flowers in her hand. A flicker of hope crossed his face.

“Debbie,” she said, referring to the school librarian. “It’s my last day working at the library.”

“You quit?” Harry frowned, his gaze flicking from the flowers to her face.

Y/N inhaled deeply before speaking. “I’m leaving, Harry.”

The wind seemed to leave him. “N-No,” he stammered, shaking his head. “You—you can’t. You can’t just leave. I won’t let you—”

“Harry,” she interrupted, reaching for his hand and holding it gently in her lap. “It’s what’s best.”

“How can you say that?” he asked, trying to pull his hand away, though her warmth made it impossible. “How can you say it’s what’s best? The three of us—we’re supposed to be together.”

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked at him. He looked thinner, more tired than she’d ever seen him, but she couldn’t help him—not anymore.

“Y/N, the thing with Dylan...” Harry began, his voice cracking. “I-I never meant for it to happen. We were just alone, I was stressed, and my emotions got the better of me. But I don’t feel the same way about him as I do about you.”

She shook her head softly. “Maybe that’s true, but not in the way you think. Dylan has always been there for you, Harry, in ways I never could. The way you look at him... it’s like he hung the stars in the sky just for you, like he tilted the sun so it would never blind you but still brighten your world.

“Maybe you do love me,” she continued, her voice trembling, “but love isn’t just about taking care of someone. It’s not carrying my backpack because it’s too heavy or doing my homework when I’m too tired after netball. Love is about being vulnerable. It’s about being taken care of, about laughing and crying and feeling like your heart is burning, and nothing can put it out.

“Now tell me, Harry. Did you ever feel that way with me? Were you ever vulnerable with me?”

Harry’s heart cracked. He opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words.

“Please, Y/N,” he whimpered, his voice breaking. “I can’t be without you.”

“You have Dylan,” she said, trying to be the bigger person even though it shattered her inside. “It was never going to be me, Harry. Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have feelings for him?”

Harry looked down at the ground, his silence all the confirmation she needed.

Her heart broke all over again, but she forced herself to stay strong. “Why do you have to go?” he asked, tears streaming down his face.

“Because, Harry,” she said gently, “what good would it do for the three of us if I stayed? You need to find out who you are, and so do I. Before me, it was you and Dylan. Now, it will end that way - with you and Dylan.”

“And what about you?” he asked desperately. “What will you do? Where will you go?”

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “But I’m grateful for what I’ve had. You and Dylan will always be a part of me. I hope one day we’ll forget this pain, and everything will be okay again.”

She reached out, brushing his hair back the way she used to. “I love you, Harry. I love you so much, I feel like I could burst.”

“I love you too,” he murmured. For the first time, he meant it in a way that felt true—not as a lover, but as a best friend.

“Be brave,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “And tell him you love him.”

Harry nodded as the tears fell freely, clinging to her like a child who didn’t want to let go.

She was going to love him forever. She now knew he wouldn’t.

. . .

“She’s gone,” Dylan said softly from the doorway of Harry’s bedroom.

Harry sat at his desk, a pen still in his hand though it hovered, unmoving, above the page. “Was she alright?” he murmured.

“She was better than we probably thought,” Dylan admitted, realizing how much they’d underestimated Y/N’s strength. They’d always thought it was their job to protect her, but she’d always been stronger than the two of them combined.

“Right,” Harry muttered, his voice hollow.

Dylan moved to sit on the bed, the springs creaking under his weight. “I was thinking we could have the leftover soup for dinner instead of going to the dining hall.”

“I’m not hungry,” Harry replied—a rare admission from someone who was always hungry.

Dylan frowned. “How long are you going to wallow in this? Can’t you see we’re both trying to do the right thing for your benefit?”

Harry turned to him, anger flashing in his eyes. “And what exactly are you doing?”

“I’ve been keeping my distance,” Dylan snapped. “Acting like we’re strangers when we’re the complete opposite. Do you know how much it kills me to not be near you? To have to hide from myself?”

Harry stood abruptly. “And you think I’m not struggling? You think I haven’t been grappling with everything I feel?”

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit!” Dylan shouted, standing to meet Harry’s gaze. “You had someone who loved you for two whole years. You have everything, Harry—loving parents, the best grades, popularity. And you act like it’s all been taken from you because I kissed you!”

“Y/N is gone because of us!” Harry yelled back.

“No,” Dylan said fiercely, his voice rising. “She’s gone because of you! Because you’re too afraid to be honest about who you are! Because you care too much about what everyone else thinks. That’s why she’s gone!”

Their faces were inches apart, their anger radiating in the small space between them.

“How dare you? Can’t you see this is difficult for me to accept?” Harry shouted, his voice trembling with anger and frustration.

“What is?” Dylan snapped back, stepping closer. “What is so difficult, Harry? What’s so hard that you have to sit in the dark and ignore the only two people who’ve ever truly cared about you? Huh? What is it? Tell me. TELL ME.”

“I am in love with you!” Harry yelled, the words ripping out of him like they had been clawing to escape for years. “I am a fool, and I am in love with you.”

Dylan froze, stunned. His breath caught in his throat as the weight of Harry’s confession settled over him. The words he had dreamed of hearing for years hung in the air between them, impossible to ignore.

“What?” Dylan managed, his voice barely a whisper.

“I have loved you since the moment I met you,” Harry said, his voice softer now but no less raw. “And it’s been killing me every day since. I think of you—daily, nightly, every moment in between—and it tears me apart. Kissing you was the bravest thing I’ve ever done, and denying it afterward made me a coward. But here I am now, standing in front of you, a man stupidly, hopelessly in love with his best friend.”

Harry’s eyes were red and glassy, the weight of years of unspoken emotion etched into his every feature.

Dylan stared at him, speechless. He had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was real, the depth of Harry’s vulnerability left him breathless.

“Kiss me,” Dylan whispered, his voice breaking. “Kiss me.”

Harry didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, cupping Dylan’s face in his hands as though it had been crafted to fit perfectly in his palms. Then he kissed him—fervent and unrestrained, pouring every ounce of his love and longing into that singular moment.

Dylan’s world ignited. A piece of him that had been dormant for years finally came alive. His heart and mind, long at odds, now burned in harmony as Harry’s lips moved against his. He felt consumed, but in the most beautiful way, as if he could lose himself in Harry forever and never once regret it.

“I love you too, Harry,” Dylan whispered when they finally parted, their foreheads resting together.

“I bloody well hope so,” Harry murmured, a small laugh escaping his lips as tears spilled down his cheeks.

. . .

Now

Dear Harry,

I’d like to tell you a story that will more than likely make you happy.

One day, I was sat in a café, only a twenty-minute walk away from Southend Park School, which is closed down now and turned into a factory to fix airplanes. I bought my usual order of a decaf cappuccino and a slice of toffee apple cake. On this particular day, they added more sugar to my cappuccino, so I knew it would be a good day.

Across from me, a woman sat, her dog lying down at her feet as she read The Catcher in the Rye whilst sipping on a fruit tea. I didn’t think much of it, but I found it interesting the way she would read something and then shakily jot something down in the little notebook on the table.

Anyway, I had originally come to the café so I could write about our trip to Brighton. You were still complaining about the sand in your clothes just last night despite the fact that Brighton has no sand.

“It’s alright, love,” I comforted you, helping you put your pyjamas on.

“It bothers me, Dylan.” You responded, coughing into your handkerchief.

We don’t leave our small bungalow very often because you don’t like to leave the dogs and I don’t like change, but this trip to Brighton was one we had been planning for a year or so, so we didn’t really have much choice in the matter.

We spent a lot of time sat on the beach in the evenings whilst we were there, a blanket wrapped around the both of us as we fed the seagulls. I remember you saying you liked the sound of the ocean because it made you feel like we were seventeen again, running into the ocean without a care in the world.

You then proceeded to mention how worried you are about our Y/N, “I hope she’s doing alright, our Y/N.” You said and then went back to talking about a programme you watched the night before.

You had always worried about Y/N in the years after she left, always asking where she was or what she was up to despite the fact we never got in contact with her again. I also wonder whether or not she is okay, and I knew that if I were to see her again, I would thank her for allowing us the space to fall in love.

It was awfully difficult those months after we kissed in your bedroom. We were constantly berated by people we had never spoken to before, and I knew it bothered you for a while, but we overcame it just like we did every other obstacle in our lives... together.

Anyway, as I continued to write about our trip, the door to the café opened again and three middle-aged people walked over to the elderly lady in the corner. “Come on Mum, we’ve got to say goodbye to Dad now,” the man spoke to her, and she swatted him away. Something about that small action gave me a strong sense of déjà vu.

“Give me a moment,” the woman responded, and the three children sat at the table in the chairs around her.

Eventually, they managed to get her standing up. One of them placed her coat around her shoulders, and another handed her her walking stick. When she turned to look at me, I saw a familiar set of eyes looking straight at me.

The three people aiding her walked to the door and held it open for her. As she was about to step out the door, her walking stick fell out of her shaky hands and right at my feet. I quickly picked it up and handed it to her, her face brightening at the sight of me.

“Thank you.” Her voice still sounded the same all that time ago.

“No... Thank you, my darling.”

#harry styles fic rec #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry edward styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #one direction

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cupids-chamber · 1 year ago

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— " 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 " | Listen to this on loop for full experience.... ★. Content tags/warnings , 1.1k+ words, gender neutral reader, technically everyone x reader (including staff/not so much RSA), can be seen as both platonic and romantic, angst, mentions of food/eating less (reader no longer has an appetite), reader is tired, reader is having a really bad day, reminder: I haven't written in awhile.

Today was a difficult day, many days have challenged you in so many different ways, yet a keen feeling of gloominess had washed over you this particular morning. Your alarm rang blankly into the silent room, you let out a groan of displeasure as you sat up on your bed, staring blankly at the wall feeling a churn in your gut. The curtains were closed, a small ray of light shone through the empty space between your window and the fabric of the curtain; you took a moment to sit and stretch.

Mentally you cursed yourself, reaching a hand to shut off your phone alarm. Perhaps it was a bad idea staying up late after all, yet how could you resist the urge to finish that new Twisted Wonderland fanfic you found on AO3 recently; The reader resonated deeply with you, and the author's writing was just what you needed. Your eyes stung, you felt like banging your head into your headboard just to stop it from ringing and aching, not to mention you could practically feel the weight of your eyebags.—had you known your body would behave in such a way, you'd have slept at least a bit earlier—Well that's what you're saying now at least, you knew you'd probably repeat the same mistake tonight if another storyline enraptured you just as much as the previous did.

You began standing up, your whole body woozy from the lack of sleep, you found yourself stumbling over something you left on the floor. You recall how tired you were, too done with the day to be bothered to pick it back up. You walked right past it, 'today was going to end badly' you thought to yourself, since your morning had been a dead giveaway.

You pocketed some random snack, as breakfast; Running a bit later as per usual. You'd lie to yourself, saying that you'd get up a bit earlier tomorrow but you knew for a fact that unless a miracle happened, you wouldn't.

The rest of the day was but the same routine, you felt tired all throughout your morning classes, on edge. You would've fallen asleep but you tried to keep your eyes open, as your professor was going over some important project intel that you really didn't want to miss—though you were only half understanding what they were saying—their words felt like gibberish for your only half-functioning brain.

Lunch felt like a chore, despite it usually feeling like a break. You felt like something bad was definitely going to happen, which made you feel anxious; The churn in your gut made it difficult to eat, chew, or drink. Your lunches weren't all that gigantic, as you disliked the feeling of being bloated, yet you barely could find it in yourself to eat. You took a deep breath, you logged into tumblr, perhaps one of your favorite fanfic writers uploaded something new? Anything to distract this heavy mind of yours.

You checked @kalims page first, they hadn't uploaded in a while—It's been a couple days since they've posted; you figured they'd be busy with school… You pondered on the following page for a while, checking @spadecentral‘s blog, they were far more active then most other blogs you’ve been following and their soft and sweet writings was perhaps just what you needed in this tim—They haven’t uploaded in a while as well? You looked at your screen, maybe everyone was just busy with their finals and/or finishing up midterms at this time.

You hummed, scrolling frantically through your follows, you sighed softly, maybe today wasn't the day to read fluff, you started checking yandere blogs; ‘nothing like obsessive men to calm you down’ you thought as you clicked on @writingforatwistedworld‘s blog, you scrolled down..

‘Weird, nothing new..’, it was as if the whole world had conspired against you today, you took a sigh, perhaps @honey-milk-depresso had uploaded something new on her art blog, after all their wholesome tsundere ship art was just the perfect source of serotonin—And if you were just a bit lucky, perhaps she’s uploaded writing onto her main blog an—Oh.. She hasn’t uploaded either?..

Your brows furrowed letting out a tired sigh, maybe you should just listen to some music. ‘How bad could this day possibly go?’—you consoled yourself with those words, as you tried finishing up at least a small portion of your meal.

You forced yourself to clean up and change, crashing onto your bed afterwards. It always felt softer on these sorts of days. Like a welcoming warm embrace, that you didn't want to leave. You took a few moments to vent your stress onto one of your poor pillows, before getting nice and cozy with your warm blankets.

You laid down on your bed, burying yourself in the blankets, as you grabbed your device from near you, turning the brightness to the lowest possible setting, perhaps you should finish your general tasks on Twst before you take a nap..

10 minutes passed and you let out a groan, where did the app go? You never heard of an app disappearing randomly; perhaps you miss-clicked and hid it by accident? A few minutes passed, and you still couldn't find the Twisted Wonderland app, you desperately opened up your computer.. Typing in panic, and yet the official website was gone as well—perhaps it’s just going through some weird update?—Maybe this was only happening to certain servers. You logged into tumblr once again, checking your mutuals profiles and.. some of them were gone? Most of the blogs had nothing from Twisted Wonderland left, the tumblr tags for Twst were completely empty.

Two hours had only passed and your panic grew, it was odd. You scrolled through your mutual’s blogs for minutes on end hoping to find one post about the game which put a smile on your face on the daily... Yet none... You went on AO3 and even checked other websites which you'd only go to out of sheer desperation for content... Yet nothing...

You took deep breaths, your breathing pacing as you scrolled till your fingers began to sting from pressure and stress.. Your back arched, as you stared at the screen with an intense expression, desperately tapping away… finally you entered the app store hoping this was a weird dream or update, like those movies and manga’s and yet.. the app was gone. No mention of it.

You couldn’t even trace a single picture of the game down, not even on Pinterest where everything deleted was still sometimes somehow available.

'Were you crying? You couldn't quite tell, you felt tired, perhaps this fictional world was just something you created as an escape, yet you didn't think you'd get this attached to some characters on a screen, and now that's it's all gone you feel... kind of.. empty.'

‘Maybe it was all just a fragment of your imagination…’

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seokgyuu · 1 year ago

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part of the @svthub 70's collab

Lee Seokmin is a very successful and admired Detective in the NYPD. Up until now he has had no trouble catching the bad guys. But when an especially horrific serial killer starts roaming the streets of New York City and he faces perplexity for the first time in his career - his superiors send a unit from the FBI trained to profile Serial Killers, which contains none other than you - Seokmin’s High School Sweetheart.

Pairing: Detective!Seokmin x FBI Agent!Reader

Genre: Criminal Minds/Detective AU, exes to enemies to lovers, Serial Killer AU, angst, Smut (MDNI!)

Warnings: Serial Killer theme, description of violence, description of dead bodies, cult themes, mentions of suicide, mentions of blood, mentions of abuse, mentions of suicide, character death (none of the main characters); smut warnings: fingering, penetrative sex, dirty talk, usage of the word “baby”, begging, reader has female anatomy, unprotected sex, creampie

Wordcount: 15.8k

a/n: I finally made it!! after months and months of writer's block I finally finished this fic, and I am actually really happy with it. Please mind the warnings, as this goes into darker themes. I also want to note, that I am no expert in terms of criminal language especially during the 70s in the us. So, if you spot anything that isn't all that accurate, i apologize! I also want to thank @multi-kpop-fanfics, @bitchlessdino & @strawberryya for reading through this and telling me i, in fact, do not suck at writing lmao. ily guys!!

taglist: @the-boy-meets-evil, @wooahaeproductions, @wongyuseokie

Lee Seokmin was a proud man. Proud of his grades in school and university. Proud of the man his parents had shaped him into. Proud of all the cases he had solved as a detective. With pride comes vulnerability, though. Especially in cases like these when he doesn’t have the right to be proud of himself. When he feels lost and helpless and his superiors look at him as if he had never solved a single case in his career.

He knows. He knows he isn’t giving them or the people of New York City anything to go by. All he can do is say he needs more time. Time that no one has.

“More people will die, Lee.”

Seokmin hates Jeffrey Stolper. Hates him like fire burns. There is nothing he can do about it. Balling his fist under the table, Seokmin slowly raises his head. There is a certain emotion in Stolper��s eyes, an emotion Seokmin was happy to say he hadn’t seen many times before. His older colleague was gloating. While they were working together, their boss put Seokmin in charge because of the very obvious numbers differentiating them. Seokmin solved cases. Stolper left them cold. Seokmin couldn’t count the amount of times he had helped Jeffrey from drowning in his own misery, and this was the thanks he got. The older man was gloating because, for the first time in practically ever, Seokmin was lost.

“Thanks, Stolper, couldn’t figure that one out myself,” he mumbled, letting his free hand roam over his sweaty face. Scoffing, the older male with the slowly graying hair leans back in his chair.

“Not the hot shot everyone says you are, aren’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up, this is not the time.” Seokmin’s voice is quiet but sharp, and Jeffrey laughs, his chest heaving as he seems to be vibrating with the horrendous sound of his arrogant laugh. It takes everything inside Seokmin not to get up from his chair and punch the hell out of the man.

“Lee, Stolper.”

Both of them get up when their superior walks in, a big man with a receding hairline, a stubble on his strong face, and an old suit on his large frame. Frederic Bream isn’t much of an empath, but he does a good job.

“Captain.” Seokmin and Stolper speak at the same time, watching as the captain nods and then waves his hand, telling them to sit back down. Once all of them are seated, he clears his throat.

“I know you hate to admit it, Lee, but we have no leads on this. No leads and a new victim.”

Seokmin’s heart falls down to his feet. Fuck. Another dead girl? Who will it be this time? He feels sweat starting to form at the top of his head.

“Another one?” Stolper is serious and reaches for the case file Bream put on the table. Seokmin feels as if someone had dumped him in ice water, unable to move, shivering. He hates the fact that Bream is right - there are no leads. So far they haven’t gathered anything from what this monster does except that he always does it the same way.

“Lauren White, 23. Student at Columbia,” Stolper reads, his face in a grimace, “she was found near Times Square, too. Fuck, Lee, I told you to put more patrols out!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Even if we put every man we have on the streets, this city is huge, Stolper. He could just start moving them somewhere else.”

Stolper doesn’t respond. Instead, he shoves the file over to Seokmin, who takes it with his jaw tensed.

“This is different from before, boys,” Bream clears his throat, “this is a high-profile murder. She is the daughter of the district judge.”

Seokmin looks up from the file.

“Why is this different from the other four victims? Because she has an important dad, suddenly the tables turn?”

Bream sighs, pulling a hand over his red face.

“It’s not fair, I know that, Lee. But this changes everything. The judge is furious. Was a real fucking asshole about it too, even for someone who just lost his daughter. He wants the slasher to be caught yesterday.”

“Oh, and we don’t? Captain, please, this is bullshit!” Seokmin scoffs, throwing the file back on the table and glaring at his superior, who looks straight back at him.

“I know. We all know Seokmin. It’s a bad situation. But, some might say, it did bring something good.”

“And what’s that?” Stolper speaks up, crossing his arms. Bream clicks his tongue.

“We got sent help. From the FBI.”

Silence is what follows. Seokmin feels the ice inside his veins melt and instead get replaced by fire. He knows Stolper feels the same. Everyone here feels the same. The fucking feds.

“They can’t take this from us. We’ve been on this for months,” Seokmin hisses, and Bream nods again, licking his dry lips.

“They won’t take it from us, Lee. They are only here to help. In fact, they aren’t… our usual feds.”

“What does that mean?” Seokmin raises his brows, leaning forward, hands on top of the table.

“They are a completely new department. Focused on the behavior of criminals, analyzing them, trying to figure out what is wrong with them.”

“They are killing people. That’s what's wrong with them!” Stolper shouts, and Bream holds up his hand.

“I understand that you’re upset. God knows I am, too. But there is nothing I can do. Go talk to them. They just arrived.”

The ice is back, and this time it hits Seokmin right in the face. They are here already? Waiting for them? Embarrassment flows through his veins, mixed with an emotion he has never felt before regarding his job: failure. His legs are shaking as he gets up, but he tries to play it off, his body tensing when Bream leads them to the door and opens it.

The hallway to the main hall suddenly feels longer than it is. The walls are closing in on Seokmin, the gray concrete threatening to suffocate him as he walks over the horrendous blue tiles he never understood were placed in the first place. Nothing really seems to be matching in this precinct. Most especially Seokmin and the federal agents waiting for them downstairs. He doesn’t know how his legs lead him to the glass front that shows the inside of the busy station downstairs. Everything is the same gray color. Everything is the same horrible blue. The only difference is the people standing in the right corner of the room all gathered around the whiteboard Seokmin has so carefully put together these past few months.

His hands are sweating. This isn’t fair. This is his case. They aren’t supposed to be here and take credit for what he has done so far. What exactly have you done, Lee Seokmin? The voice in his head reminds him, and he balls his hands into fists as Bream opens the door leading to the stairs that will finally bring him to the federal agents he knows he’ll hate already.

The atmosphere in the room is tense. More tense than usual because everyone in it is unhappy with the current situation. As if it isn't hard enough that there is a killer on the loose, now there are FBI agents trying to take this away from the NYPD? This is his town, Seokmin’s town! No one knows it as well as him. He knows every corner, every store. Every good place to eat, every bar to avoid. The people know him; they trust him with this, and now he is just supposed to accept that he can’t continue what he started?

He doesn’t know how, but somehow, he does end up right behind all the agents and one of the other detectives, Jeanne, and doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he is bitter. His arms are crossed as he listens to Jeanne explaining what is on the board. She had been a part of this - just like all the other detectives had been whenever they could. It’s not like crime suddenly stopped in New York City just because a serial killer was roaming around. If anything, it just got worse.

“That’s about all we’ve gathered. I know it’s not much, but it’s all we got.” Jeanne closes her explanation, and Seokmin watches the backs of the agent's head nodding. Bream then clears his throat, making the others aware that they have joined and once the team of strangers turns around, Seokmin thinks someone has yet again taken a bucket of ice and dumped it all over his head. Because why on earth are you here?

You see him the second he sees you. It’s almost funny how your professionalism slowly slips out of your control, how seeing him makes memories flood your brain and almost drowns you. Why is he here? He, who had left you with a sour taste seven years prior to this moment? Why is he standing there in a well-fitted suit, looking the best he ever had in a precinct that shouldn’t have anything pretty inside it?

“Detectives, may I introduce you to agents Son, Song, Kim, Seok and Y/L/N. They were sent here by the FBI to help us with the investigations.” Jeanne smiles, but Seokmin knows it’s not an honest smile. You see it, too. When you had gotten the memo to go to New York City and help with the slasher murders, you had already known the detectives wouldn’t be too happy to see you and your team.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m the team leader, Hyunwoo Son.” You hear your boss speak, and you want to look at him, but your eyes are back to being glued to Seokmin. Lee Seokmin. The one who had taken everything from you when you were nineteen.

“You too. I’m Detective Stolper. This is Detective Lee.” Bream doesn’t sound sincere. For once, Seokmin is relieved his older colleague likes to speak over him. He doesn’t know if he would have been able to say a word.

Catching a serial killer is one thing. Catching him with someone you share an uncomfortable history with, another. You are sitting as far from Seokmin as you possibly can. With as many people between you as there are.

Hyunwoo is standing at the front with Matthew, explaining what your team has gathered as of now. The rest of the precinct is listening to the presentation, and you just know they are all biting their tongues. No one wants you here. All of them think you’re a fraud. While you understand where they are coming from, you also think it’s time for them to accept the newly found ways to analyze the behavior of killers like the case at hand: the Manhattan Slasher. The air is thick with sweat, and you are sure 70% of it is yours.

“We want to make clear that the work your precinct and especially you, Detective Lee, have done so far is incredibly helpful. We don’t want to discredit what you’ve done and we also don’t want to make you feel as if you’re getting kicked off the case. We aren’t your usual federal agents, Detectives, we are here to be of support to you. You still go outside and look at the crime scenes. You still get to do your work. We are here to assist, to see things we have been trained to see, things you cannot see, not for lack of smarts but lack of training.”

You had always admired Hyunwoo. How he spoke so clearly and calmly, how he never failed to make a person feel seen. You can feel the atmosphere shift. Some of the police officers visibly relaxing in their seats. You still don’t dare to look at Seokmin.

“Now, to what we have gathered. Dr. Matthew Seok will lead you through it.”

Seokmin wonders how old Matthew Seok is. He can’t be any older than 23. How on earth is he already a part of one of the newest FBI departments? And gets to be in charge of the presentation? And how does he already have a god damn PhD?

“Hi everyone, I’m Dr. Matthew Seok. With the help of the information you’ve gathered, we were able to come up with a profile for our unsub.”

Seokmin feels a scoff in his throat but manages to hold it back. A profile? What is he talking about?

“We are positive the unsub is a white man in his early to late 30s. He most probably grew up with an abusive mother, which explains why he only picks women as his victims. He doesn’t care about their race or social standing, which tells us he doesn’t hate one specific type of woman, but all of them. The age range of his victims is from early to mid twenties, meaning his mother had him young and gave him up around that time.”

You should be used to it by now. The reaction from the precincts. But it bothers you just as much as it usually does. The way they look at each other, the way they are already fed up with you being here. Your eyes wander over to the rest of your team, who you know are just as fed up as you, but they are better at hiding their emotions. Yuqi just stands there with her gum in her mouth, her arms crossed, and hoping she’ll get to go on the field soon. While she is an excellent profiler, she did train to become a field agent. It was pure coincidence that Hyunwoo had overheard her talking about this one case even Matthew had been struggling with. Jungwoo is the quietest one of your team, especially in situations like this. He just stands there, hands folded in front of his frame, eyeing the situation calmly. The team leader himself stands next to Matt still, his arms crossed as well and his gaze wandering over the crowd of people. A traitorous part of you envies him for being able to look at Seokmin without any repercussions.

“How the fuck do you know that?” A voice now erupts from the sea of people. You turn around to see the man who had walked in with Seokmin. Stolper, you think his name was. A frown appears on your face.

“It’s not our job to explain profiling to you,” you say coldly and the older man’s eyes find you - just like Seokmin’s do. You decide to ignore them and turn back to face Matthew.

“Uhm. Yes, well, we do ask you to look into certain… well, behaviors. People like our unsub aren’t exactly the most masculine. He is probably very thin and might even have a disability - perhaps a prosthetic leg or something that makes him feel inferior. Look into churches, veteran centers, see if you find anyone that could match the profile and-,”

“You mean to tell me that the killer could be a vet?” Bream now interrupts, his eyebrows raised. Seokmin presses his lips together. If his colleagues hadn’t been wary of your bunch before, they sure as hell are now. War Heroes? Their precious American patriots that fought for their country and won a war? How could you even dare to speak ill of them?

“No. He most probably didn’t serve. He tells people he did and that that’s the reason he has said disability,” Matthew continues calmly and you smile slightly. It was a reach, your reach, but so far all your reaches had been a shot to the bullseye.

Then there was a sudden thud somewhere behind you, followed by hurried footsteps and news none of you could pretend didn’t make you sick to your stomachs.

This feels wrong. It’s broad daylight, there are people everywhere. You stand next to Matthew, your hands buried in your pockets, and listen to the statement of the girl that had called the police.

“She was just next to me and then.. and then suddenly she wasn’t. I- I was confused and looked around and then I saw this- this man and how he dragged her by the arm into his car. No one did anything, no one- no one helped her and I- I didn’t-,” her voice breaks off and another set of tears well up in her eyes. Seokmin nods understandingly.

“Miss, you have nothing to blame yourself for. It is a busy street and you and your friend were not glued by the hip, alright? We will do our best to find her and you shouldn’t worry about what you could have done differently. You called us right away and that's the best thing you could’ve done.”

Tears are rolling down her face, sobs are erupting from her tiny body, and you wonder if Seokmin would ask her out if it wasn’t for the circumstances. The second the thought hits your brain, you freeze. What the hell? Why on earth would your mind go there? In a situation like this? You shake your head to yourself and look around - the police have put tape around the area where Kelly has gotten abducted. Her friend, Jean is being questioned, along with the few other people who claim to have seen something. But other than the witnesses, there isn’t much to go on about. The car he had dragged Kelly into had been an old one and Jean couldn’t exactly tell what kind. She also hadn’t been able to make out the license plate. So, all in all, it was all more or less useless information.

“Detective Lee, I will need you to go to the morgue with Dr. Seok and Y/N,” Hyunwoo is suddenly there, right next to Seokmin and you hear his voice and feel your stomach tighten. The professionalism has to stay in its place, you know that. There is no room for you to fall back into old patterns; that one silly thought you had earlier was enough. You can’t let it get any further.

But the tension is there and it's suffocating. You’re in the backseat of Seokmin’s car and Matthew is talking the man’s ear off with information you have heard millions of times before. Thankfully your friend and colleague doesn’t feel what you feel, what Seokmin feels, and for a short second you ask yourself how he even became the youngest member of your team - only for you to remember you have never met a mind as brilliant as his, with the exception of human interaction. He isn’t too good at those.

The morgue is just like any other you’ve been in. This one still feels different, though. Probably because of the young girls you know shouldn’t be dead laying on top of the examination tables with nothing but a thin blanket over their pale, lifeless bodies. You should be used to this by now, you think. But you doubt you ever will be.

Matthew is standing next to one of the women, the fourth victim, Fernanda Franco, with this look on his face you’ve seen many times before. You’re standing opposite him, your arms crossed and your eyes shifting over the body, wondering how much pain these women had been in.

“He did a thorough job with the cut,” the coroner says now; he is standing on the side of the room, holding a file, “my guess is he is good with a knife, maybe working with animals.”

“Right,” Matthew mumbles, a frown on his face as he leans forward, eyeing the victim from top to bottom. It’s somewhat fascinating how good he is at spotting things others haven’t seen before. Perhaps it had made you jealous a while back, but fortunately, that is over. Instead of being jealous, you appreciate his work and his abilities.

Seokmin, meanwhile, is also looking through files. Mostly from the crime scenes. How the women looked before the coroner took care of them. The fact that they are all still here, and not yet down under, no funeral held at this point, makes his stomach turn. He knows it’s wrong. But as long as they haven’t found the killer, as long as there might be more evidence on the bodies… Seokmin suppresses a sigh. He wants to give the families the chance to find closure so badly. If only by giving them the opportunity to put their daughters, sisters, grandchildren to rest.

The pictures are still hard to look at. The blood everywhere. The stained clothes. The signs of clear torture. Nothing sexual, at least. But then again, perhaps the killer doesn’t need to sexually assault them to feel arousal. That’s what Matthew said earlier. Seokmin closes the file and pulls a hand through his hair, his hat safely stored on one of the cabinets.

“Dr. Richmond,” Matthew’s voice makes Seokmin look over to where you are standing.

“Dr. Seok?” Richmond walks over to Matthew who is standing bent over the body, his hand holding… the victim’s ear. Immediately, you and Seokmin step closer, both of your eyes glued to the women’s earlobe. Something inside your stomach turns, goosebumps suddenly all over your skin and you feel your breath getting stuck in your throat.

“Why wasn’t this in the files?” Matthew now continues to ask, his eyes not leaving what he found. Dr. Richmond feels his face go pale and sweat starts to form on the palms of his hands. Blood is rushing through his ears and there is nothing he can say, nothing he can try to come up with because the bitter truth is-

“He didn’t know it was there,” Seokmin finishes the thought and Richmond swallows hard, hands wiping away at his lab coat. The detective is right.

“Do all of them have this?” You ask now, finally able to move away from Fernanda and move over to Jennifer Cartwright, who looks way too peaceful for what had happened to her. But then, you are happy she does. A part of you hopes she is feeling peace wherever she may be. When you reach for her earlobe, you already know it will be there. You take a deep breath.

“I’m- I don’t understand. I never… nothing like this ever happened, I-,” Richmond’s voice echoes through the room, but none of you pay him mind. The small crosses, carved into the soft tissue of the women’s earlobes, take all of your attention.

There were only a handful of people in the meeting room. Your team and Seokmin and his superior officer. It bothered you, kind of. More people had to know.

“These crosses, they have been used before,” Matthew is pacing through the room and Hyunwoo is right there at the front of it, his arms crossed and his thumbnail between his teeth. He is thinking, listening.

“This was in the late fifties, early sixties. A cult, they all followed this one man, Jonathan Brixley. He claimed to have somewhat superpowers, and while most didn’t actually believe him, he was such a good preacher, they followed him anyways. They weren’t known for being violent up until they seemed to vanish. Many thought they might have done a suicide pact, but no bodies were ever found. But what we do know is that whenever one of their own died, they would carve a little cross into their earlobe. Almost unnoticeable. Almost like a birthmark - it’s not even that surprising Dr. Richmond didn’t catch on.”

“He didn’t catch on that all of the girls have the same strange birthmark?” Seokmin frowns. You roll your eyes.

“We are all aware that this isn’t the ideal situation, Detective, but perhaps being bitter about it doesn’t make it better.”

It’s the first time you and Seokmin have directly talked. Or more like, the first time you had openly acknowledged each other's presence.

“With all due respect, Agent, I don’t care. I want to be bitter, I am allowed to be bitter. If we had known this weeks ago, we might have cracked the case by now!”

“I highly doubt that, Detective. With all due respect,” Matthew chimes in and the (unpleasant) moment between Seokmin and you is over.

“And why is that?” Seokmin’s superior officer asks.

“Well, as I said, the cult vanished. Finding out where the last remaining members are is almost an impossible task. If there even are any - I doubt they’d wanna be found. For all we know, they could be hiding in plain sight and we wouldn’t know.”

The atmosphere gets even more uneasy. If that’s even possible at this point. Seokmin scoffs and looks away, his hands in fists. You should know how to de-escalate but your head comes up empty. It’s almost as if there is an invisible barrier that forbids you from actually trying to be reasonable with Seokmin.

Just when Hyunwoo seems like he wants to say something, the door opens. One of the police officers, a woman with red hair you don’t know the name of, comes in.

“We have a situation,” she says and her eyes are full of something even you, a profiler, isn’t so sure what the meaning of is. It looks like fear, confusion, but also something like hope. Immediately, everyone gets up and follows her outside, where you spot the board with all the pictures of the victims on it… and a red thread connecting one of them to a new face.

“That’s the girl I talked to earlier.” Seokmin breathes and he looks over at Ruth, who nods.

“Yes, Detective. Jean told us that she knows one of the girls - Rebecca Twain. They used to go to the same church, same goes for her friend, Kelly, that she called in as abducted.”

Your eyes widen at that and you look over at Matt, who has his hand over his mouth, his face in a frown. A church. That fits the idea of the cult. All of you who were in the room earlier know that. This is good, this is an actual clue, one that might even lead to something after all!

“What church?” Bream now asks the police officer named Ruth.

“She wasn’t too sure. Said they haven’t been there in ages. She knew Rebecca when they were children and Kelly came to join them a few years later. But they haven’t gone to the church in at least 12 years. She said she would call us with more information, but so far she hasn’t.”

It doesn’t take a genius to understand why she hasn’t called the station yet. You sink down, leaning against one of the desks now, a hand rubbing over your face. This was bad. Seriously bad. Whenever a cult was involved in anything, it could only be so much worse than anticipated. Of course, her parents wouldn’t let her talk about it. Who would ever want to talk about something like this? Being part of a cult, if now or in the past - with everything happening these past years.

“We need to speak to her parents. Now.” Hyunwoo is already out the door, probably heading to his car and you look over at the rest of your team, who all seem more or less as lost as you. It turns out to be Seokmin who follows your team leader first and once you see his figure speed past you, you also begin to move.

The ride is quiet. Hyunwoo’s hands are white around the steering wheel. You sit next to him in the front, Seokmin in the back. All of this feels surreal to you and you are sure it’s not that different for Seokmin. Serial Killers were a constant part of both of your lives, but you - you haven’t been for a good amount of years. It’s like a bad taste in your mouth, as if somehow the food you would always cook perfectly suddenly went bad, had a foul ingredient in it, was cooked for too long. You’re not sure what it is, but it doesn’t sit right with you.

Seokmin, in the back seat, feels about the same as you. He is used to gruesome murders, to killers who don’t care about anything but themselves, but he isn’t used to having you around in all of this. Someone from his old life that he doesn’t associate with any of this. Never in a million years would he have predicted you becoming a federal agent. When you dated back in high school, you had always talked about wanting to go into politics, fighting for women’s rights, feminism, all that jazz. You had even applied to all the IVYs, wanting to study political science. So, how did you end up here?

“We will have to be careful.” Hyunwoo now breaks the silence and makes Seokmin and you look at him.

“The parents won’t be too happy to share their story, I can imagine. No one likes to admit they were in a cult, not after Manson.”

You nod and Seokmin scoffs, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms.

“One would think people wouldn’t even join any cults after Manson,” he says and Hyunwoo laughs bitterly, nodding slightly as he takes the next right at the intersection.

“Right. Sadly, it isn’t as easy as that.”

You look at Seokmin through the rearview mirror, watch how his jaw is tightened and how his arms are crossed, how his suit jacket is discarded next to him on the backseat. You wonder how long he has been part of this lifestyle, how long he’s been a cop. You hadn’t heard from him in years, not even when your friends offered to do some digging for you. It wasn’t because you weren’t interested. More so because you felt like you would get too invested. Looking away again, you straighten out your shoulders. This isn’t the time to think about the past, there are way more important things to focus your energy on.

Five minutes later, Hyunwoo finally parks the car in front of the house of the Roger’s and the three of you get out to walk over to the front door where Hyunwoo rings the doorbell twice. It only takes about twenty seconds before the door opens and a slim woman with bright red hair and red lips stands in front of you, an apron around her waist and a mitten in her hand.

“Yes?” She looks at you with blinking eyes and the three of you take out your respective badges. The woman’s eyes widen.

It is safe to say that getting information out of Jean’s parents is almost impossible. They are a middle class family with middle class friends, he works in real estate and she does her best to keep the house and children under control. They don’t want to talk about their past at the church, or more like, they try to deny it ever was a part of their lives. Talking to them comes close to talking to a wall, if the wall felt guilt and shame and was worried about its reputation. Only when you mention Jean for the third time, reassuring her parents that they aren’t in trouble and that no one was going to find out, that the only mission you had was to find the missing girl and find out who had killed the other innocent women - they budge.

Mr. Rogers gets up, a certain shake in his knees, and walks over to one of the dark hardwood dressers standing on the right side of the spacious living room, where he opens a drawer and takes out what looks like a little notebook. You, Hyunwoo and Seokmin look at him attentively.

“We haven’t talked to anyone from that church in years. Or well, we hadn’t. Up until a few weeks ago. You see, there used to be this… this farm. It was for retreats, we would go there every other month. Sing and pray, meet new people from other parts of the country,” he begins to explain as he walks back, reluctantly handing the notebook to you. Taking it with a small thank you, you look at the page he had opened it to and see a number and a name.

“This is the name and telephone number of the couple that bought the farm years ago. We- we haven’t been going to the retreats since 1961, but a couple weeks ago an old acquaintance from the church called us. Kathryn Anderson, she was pretty close to Pastor Brix-,” he stops himself mid sentence, “to, uh, to Mr. Brixley. She wanted to know if we knew who bought the farm.” “And what did you tell her?” Seokmin asks now.

“He told her no. That we were never interested in knowing,” Mrs. Rogers now answers the question for her husband, “you see, when we left the church it was mostly because of Jean. We figured after a while that perhaps this church wasn’t what we wanted for our daughter. So, we left. It wasn’t easy, but we did it. A couple months later, the whole thing fell apart anyway. Kathryn wasn’t around for that because she had been arrested about six months before we left the church. Got a good couple of years behind bars for attempted murder, the woman. When she got out, she couldn’t reach anyone - after all, the church didn’t exist anymore. Jonathan had perished, no one knows where he ended up and she was unsure what to do. So, she finally got a hold of us and wanted to know everything about the farm. But again, we told her we didn’t know who bought the farm. We just told her it was over and that she needed to find a different safety net.”

You look over at Hyunwoo, wondering if he thinks the same thing you do.

“But you obviously do know who owns the farm now.” He says calmly. The housewife swallows, then nods.

“We do. Paul actually sold the farm to them.”

How convenient, you think. Hyunwoo smiles and Seokmin clicks his tongue.

“I see. Well, thank you for the name and number, but now it would be great if you could also let us know the address.”

“I don’t understand,” you say, your arms crossed in front of your chest. Hyunwoo is sitting at his makeshift office desk, rubbing his temples.

“What exactly do you not understand, Y/N?”

“Why we need to go to the farm. Or no, why he and I need to go.”

“Don’t be stupid, Y/N. Matthew confirmed it, the cult used this farm back in the day. There could be a lead there. And you and Detective Lee are going because you’re my best agent and he’s their best detective. I also feel like you two need some bonding time. Honestly, I’ve got no clue what your issue is with him, but you’ll need to get your act together. This is a serious case and I can’t have you dislike the main detective.”

Dislike. That’s one word to describe it. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“So, you will drive to the farm with him and talk to the couple as well as check out the surroundings. See if you find anything that could be helpful to the case, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Hyunwoo nods, satisfied. He then waves his hand, telling you to get out and do your job. You suppress a sigh and instead walk out and almost into your newly assigned partner - Seokmin. He looks about as happy about the situation as you feel, but neither of you says a word while you walk out of the precinct and to the car that would take you the 100 mile drive to Schnecksville, Pennsylvania.

“You drive.” Seokmin’s voice rips you out of your thoughts and you thankfully react quick enough and catch the keys he throws at you. Rolling your eyes, you walk over to the other side and open the car, sitting down in the driver’s seat. The second your door is closed and Seokmin’s door is closed, his presence almost drowns you.

“I was always better at reading maps than you,” he mumbles next to you and you feel your cheeks heat up and your stomach turn and you decide to ignore him and instead start the car.

Seokmin presses his lips together, the map on his lap and his heartbeat loud and clear in his ears. Bream really thinks he did something. Putting Seokmin in a car with you for the next two hours. Apparently, your little bit of tension did not remain unnoticed and now this was his punishment. But what was he supposed to do? Tell Bream that you were his ex-girlfriend from high school who he had left seven years ago with nothing better than a pathetic letter goodbye. It hadn’t been his finest moment, but god, he was nineteen. Back then, he had enlisted in the army after high school, something he was bound to do anyways, and being cowardly as he was, he just hadn’t felt like telling you in person. Then, when he had been discharged, he had signed up for the academy and here he is now. He knows he should say something, apologize for the way he left you. But his pride and the shame don’t let his lips move, don’t let the words come out. And so he just looks at the map and waits to give you instructions. That’s what he can do. That’s how he can cope with being next to you.

The drive is long and quiet and you turn on the radio at one point, listening to quiet music almost soothing. The highway is wide and the city is behind you and you wonder how long you’ll have to be in this car before your head starts to actually fume from all the thoughts running around.

When you see the sign for Schnecksville, you almost sigh in relief. Seokmin tells you which exit you have to take and you follow his instructions, wondering how you actually got through this drive without any actual communication besides his directions.

Schnecksville is filled with nothing and a gas station. You also pass a motel and a convenience store on your way to the farm that is a few miles away from the city center. Once you finally arrive, you can’t get out of the car quick enough, shoving the keys into your jacket when the car is locked. The farm is bigger than you had anticipated and Seokmin, who has discarded his jacket and hat on the backseat, looks just as surprised as you.

“Guess we have some ground to cover. Come on.” He takes the lead and you follow him, even though a part of you feels the need to run ahead. You don’t. You’re not a child.

The woman who opens the door is in her early sixties with graying hair and a cat in her arms.

When you and Seokmin introduce yourselves and show your badges, she gasps slightly.

“Oh, you know, my sweet peach always runs out when I open the door, she is sick, can’t really find her way back when she gets out. Come on in, agent, detective.”

Her name is Mabelle Travis and her husband is Keith Travis, but he isn’t at home right now. He is getting some groceries for them.

“How kind of your husband to help you with that,” you say as you sit down on the couch in the pastel colored living room. Mabelle nods, letting the cat back down.

“Oh, he is the one with the driver’s license, dear. I can only go grocery shopping if he comes with me. Or our son is in town.”

You nod and look over at Seokmin, who is looking at some of the family pictures on the dressers by the door.

“Your son doesn’t live with you, ma’am?” He asks and Mabelle shakes her head as she sits down on one of the horrifically green armchairs.

“No, Detective. He used to, you know, live with us. But that was before we bought the farm. My husband always dreamt of having a farm. When he retired, he thought it might just be the time.” She laughs and looks from Seokmin to you.

“But, what can I do for you?”

“Well, we were wondering if you’d be alright with us looking around the farm? We don’t know if you know, but the farm used to belong to a church before you bought it.”

“Ah, yes. We did know. I think that’s why we got it cheap. What exactly are you looking for, agent?”

“We’re not sure. But we think the church might have some connections to a case we are currently working on.”

Mabelle nods, her face in a frown.

“Oh my. Well, you’re in luck then. We bought the farm years ago, but only recently moved in. So, most of the barns are still untouched. Only this house has been through some construction,” the cat jumps up on her lap and Mabelle smiles down at it, her hand carefully caressing its fur.

“That’s good news, Mrs. Travis. We’ll go take a look then.” Seokmin nods his head towards the back door and you smile at Mabelle before getting up and following Seokmin outside. There are three barns in total - one is large and two are on the smaller side, leaving the two of you with enough ground to work with for the next few hours. You exchange looks and decide to check out the smaller space first, a barn that is completely bare except for a wooden table at the far right that holds a few blueprints. Seokmin checks them out, his eyes scanning them for anything out of the ordinary. You, meanwhile, begin to knock at the wall, listening for hollow spaces, but also come back with nothing. The barn seems as normal as a barn could be.

The second one is a little trickier. It’s not empty, instead it’s filled with boxes that, after checking as good as each and every one, all seem to be empty. You check your wrist for the time, wiping your forehead with the back of the other hand. You’ve really been at it for the last two hours.

“I think we should move on to the last barn. I doubt the rest will hold anything of worth. Come on.” Seokmin is next to you all of a sudden and you flinch, looking away from your watch and at the man, who has sweat dripping down his temple. His eyes are set on your face and you wonder if you look just as exhausted as he does. Clearing your throat, you nod and turn away from him, walking out of the barn and to the next one.

Seokmin sighs, following you outside and grabbing your arm once he catches up with you.

“Y/N, I am just as delighted about doing this with you as you are with me, believe me. But perhaps we should at least try to do our job.”

His words sting more than they should have and you are well aware of that. Funny to think that such wounds would have healed after seven years. You shake off his hand and turn around to face him.

“Oh, is that right, Seokmin? You’re just as delighted as I am?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “As far as I can remember, Detective, you left me with nothing more but a joke of a letter.”

Seokmin bites down on his tongue. You are right. Maybe it wasn’t right of him to compare the two of you.

“I know that. I know I hurt you. And I should have apologized for that years ago. I was young and-,”

“Let me guess? Stupid? That is in fact correct, Seokmin. But I don’t care about an apology, at least not anymore. I just want to get this over with, not have chit-chat with you about the past which neither of us can change anymore. So, will you go to the third barn with me so we can finally leave this stupid town?”

Seokmin watches you walk away, his heart heavier in his chest than before. He really should have reached out sooner. Pulling a hand through his hair, the detective suppresses another sigh and finally follows you to the third and last barn for you to check.

The Travises invite you for dinner and Seokmin and you are both too polite to decline. Thankfully Mabelle is incredibly talkative, loves telling you all the tales about their son, Henry, and how they used to live in the city but then moved to a smaller town. She is excited about her husband’s birthday coming up soon and Henry coming over to visit, and basically her favorite topic to discuss is him. You try your best to resist the urge to look over at Seokmin next to you, to see if he is as amused about this as you are. He is not your ally, not your friend. You shouldn’t be looking for his gaze, shouldn’t be curious of his thoughts.

“Does your son visit you often?” Seokmin now asks after taking a sip from his glass filled with tap water.

“Not as much as we’d like.” Mrs. Travis sighs and pats her husband’s hand.

“He is busy with working in the city, not always available.” Mr. Travis now explains and Seokmin and you nod. That makes sense. You try to remember the last time you had time to visit your own parents. You couldn’t even really remember.

“If there is something we want to check again, would it be alright if we came back?” Seokmin asks when you finally stand at the front door, saying your goodbyes. The Travises nod, allowing you to come back whenever. After waving at them you walk back to the car, Seokmin now getting into the driver’s seat. As you sit down on the passenger seat the atmosphere quickly becomes tense now that you’re alone again. The second your doors are closed, a familiar sound is heard.

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking.”

Rain. It’s starting to rain. What starts with a few drops on the windshield turns into a full on piss of rain that has the both of you staring at the scene for a few seconds. When a second later you hear thunder so close it almost shakes the car, Seokmin reluctantly starts the engine.

There is no way in hell you can drive home in this weather. As much as the both of you hate it, you’ll have to stop somewhere and wait out the storm. Seokmin suggests the motel you had seen on your way here and you nod, knowing there wasn’t much else you could say or do. Having to stay somewhere with Seokmin, somewhere you couldn’t just flee from, seems like the number one worst scenario you could find yourself in. You look at him from the passenger seat, trying to my sly about it but of course he notices your eyes on his face.

“Believe me, I would rather not do this either, Y/N. But I’d rather be safe than drive on the highway in this weather.”

You don’t answer him. Mainly because you would have to tell him he is right and that’s most definitely not going to happen.

“What do you mean by that?” Seokmin looks at the bored looking woman in her fifties. She sighs and shoves the one room key towards him again.

“I mean, Sir, that there is only one room left. We are fully booked. Have you seen the rain?”

It’s very obvious a rhetorical question but Seokmin is about to go on a rant to tell the woman that, of course, he has seen the rain but how on earth does this justify there only being one room in a god damn motel miles away from any big city?

“We’ll take the room,” you quickly interject, handing the lady your credit card that she looks at with a straight face.

“Honey, you’re in the middle of nowhere. Do you really think we take those things?” You feel your cheeks heat up, retreating the card again.

“That’s 16.50$ for the night,” she continues and you hand her a twenty that she takes without a word, shoving the change over the wooden surface, “have a pleasant stay.” She shoves down the small plastic window and you and Seokmin exchange a quick look before making your way to the room you will now have to share.

There is only one bed. You stare at it and so does Seokmin. Because - of course there is. How could you have not asked the woman at the counter? But then again even if you had… there wasn’t much you could have done about it. Maybe a saw, you think, just saw it in half. The two of you stay silent for a good minute, before Seokmin finally sighs, pulling a hand over his face.

“Looks like we can’t do much about this. Just… it’s just one night, alright? We can do this.”

You don’t really understand why he would say that. Why he would speak for you, when you both know it isn’t okay and you most definitely can’t do this. You take a deep breath, throwing your bag onto the very dirty looking armchair next to the door.

“Whatever,” you respond, rolling your eyes as you make your way into the bathroom, if only to get away from Seokmin for a short while. His presence is stressing you out more than you thought it would. Perhaps that had been foolish of you - thinking this wouldn’t be the absolute worst thing to ever happen. But at the same time, it’s not like Hyunwoo had given you much of a choice. He had straight up told you to get your act together and yet… You sigh, the door closed next to you. The bathroom isn’t even half as bad as you had feared. It’s small and the shower could need a scrub (or three), but other than that it’s decent. The toilet looks clean and the mirror hanging over the sink shows you your exhausted face. Dark circles under your eyes that you touch with your cold finger tips. You remember how you looked back in High School. How much you smiled, how happy you were almost every single day. And all because of him. He, who promised you the world only to rip it away when you needed stability the most. It wasn’t fair. Him being here, him playing such a big role in something so important to you. Finding this killer that took lives like it was nothing. Seokmin is here with you and he sure as hell isn’t going anywhere else. The effect he has on you is annoying, to say the least. You don’t want to feel this way, feel insecure and small and like you need to prove yourself to him. He isn’t worth your energy, your thoughts. Not him as a person at least. Him as a Detective is a different story. Another deep breath followed by some water that you splash into your face, is what finally makes you step out again and face your ex-boyfriend that has taken a seat on the bed, the case file spread next to him.

He is handsome. High cheekbones, perfectly shaped eyebrows. His hair is styled back, but slowly the front strands are falling into his face. His face is in a small frown as he looks at the documents, as he tries to make sense where you all fail to find any. Your heart betrays you by skipping a beat, by suddenly sending a wave of sadness over you. He never told you why he left. He just did.

“Anything making more sense now?” You ask cautiously, walking over to him with slow steps. Seokmin looks up slightly before shaking his head.

“Not really,” he mumbles, “it doesn’t make sense. None of this. Why is he curving the crosses into their ears? Why is he choosing these girls specifically?” You sit down on the other side of the bed, gnawing on your lower lip.

“Well, Matthew told you our theory. Abusive mother, hatred towards women.”

“But why- why would he just go after any woman if his mother was a certain type?” Seokmin looks up at you and you feel a sting in your chest. You shrug.

“You’re right to question this theory. It’s not perfect and it will take a few years until we can really say that we have a high percentage of accurate profiles. So far we’ve been good, very good. But not as good as we can be. This unsub is unique because he doesn’t have a type - it almost seems random. Like he goes out on the street and sees a girl and just takes her,” you lick over your lips, letting your eyes wander to the window, the storm on full display, “he is violent, but he also kills them quickly. No signs of sexual abuse. It’s odd and not like anything we’ve seen before.”

Seokmin listens to you speak and allows himself to actually listen. The whole profiling thing - it most certainly hasn’t been something he trusted so far. But now, hearing your words, seeing the look on your face - he almost feels ashamed of his earlier suspicion.

“It’s just-,” he begins, his hand pulling through his hair, “it’s confusing. Why would he not go for people who look like his mother? Why is he not taking revenge on her over and over again?”

You feel your thoughts stumble over that sentence for a good thirty seconds. Seokmin is right - why wouldn’t he take revenge on his mother over and over again? Why would he kill women that look nothing like her? Without really noticing, you get up, your feet carrying you over to the window, staring at the rain outside, hoping it would give you the clue you so desperately need right now.

“You agree, don’t you? That it is odd!” Seokmin gets up too, only to turn around and look at the files again, his arms crossed, eyes scanning all the pictures and clues the team has gathered so far.

“Yes, it definitely is odd,” you mumble, heart racing in your chest.

“Okay. We’ll go over this again. There has to be something we’re missing. A connection between them, a club they all go to. Anything, just… fuck, it feels as if there is clue right there, hidden in plain sight and we are missing it because it’s too damn obvious!”

Hidden in plain sight. You blink against your reflection in the window. Hidden in plain sight. Matthew had said the same thing back at the precinct.

For all we know, they could be hiding in plain sight and we wouldn’t know.

You swirl around, eyes wide and Seokmin looks at you with a confused expression.

“What?”

“The barn,” you breathe, eyes flickering to the table, where the car keys lay right where Seokmin left them, “we need to go back.”

Seokmin tries to stop you, the storm still howling outside, but you’re not letting him. This is too important, too obvious. You want to kick yourself for not realizing it earlier. For seeing something that was right there, but not actually seeing it.

You run to the car, soaked from head to toe when you sit down on the driver’s seat. The door to the passenger seat opens and Seokmin plops down, just as drenched as you are.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, will you tell me what the fuck is happening right now?”

Instead of answering, you start the engine, the wipers doing their best to clear your view.

“Y/N!” Seokmin repeats loudly and you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

“It has to be in there! In the barn. All those god damn empty boxes. One of them has to have something in it, something they don’t want us to find. Fucking hell, we could have had the whole team here by now, Seokmin! If only we hadn’t been lazy!”

“Wait, hold on. So you think the Travises have something to do with this?” Seokmin asks and you shrug.

“Honestly? I don’t think they do. But it’s still their property now. And most of these boxes are theirs. I’m sure we’ll find something there. We just have to look at every single box.”

You’re almost in a haze, Seokmin thinks. Your eyes have completely changed and the way you drive this car would have been scary if only you weren’t so damn impressive. You have been impressive the whole day, Seokmin thinks. He would never say it out loud (not to you at least) but this job seems to fit you like a glove. Never did it cross his mind back in High School that you’d end up in the same field as him. He gulps down the nostalgia and instead looks out the window, wondering if the rain will stop anytime soon.

It hasn’t been long since the two of you left the Travises and yet, when you arrive, the house is dark. Checking your watch you see it's already after 9pm.

“They said we can come back whenever.” You say more to yourself than Seokmin, but the latter still nods, cursing under his breath when he steps out of the car and into the horrible weather. You run alongside him, passing the house and first barn, setting foot in the one you had a hunch about with both of you drenched from head to toe. Ignoring the cold creeping up, you begin examining the boxes once again. There is nothing extraordinary about them. They are the usual cardboard boxes one uses for moves, all over the country. It’s nothing you haven’t seen thousand of times before and-

“Y/N, look at this.” Seokmin’s voice fills the silence that has only been accompanied by the sound of rain and thunder before. Looking over at him, you see that he is holding up two different boxes upside down. There is a green dot on both of them. Your eyes widen. Quickly, you check your own box - but nothing. There is no dot. Confusion mixed with frustration begins to rise within you and you throw the box to the side, pulling clam hands through wet hair.

“There has to be a system,” you mumble, closing your eyes as you try to calm yourself down. Seokmin hears your words and looks around the room, trying to make sense of how the boxes are lined up. They all look the same. They were all stacked the same when you came in earlier today. There isn’t anything about them that makes one different from the other - except for the dots he had discovered. His brain is working at full speed, his eyes roaming from one side of the room to the other. Only when he looks down, does he see something.

“Y/N, look,” he puts the two boxes he held up to the side and crouches down, your figure standing over him a second later. There were clear lines painted on the floor. He looks up at you and you feel your eyes beginning to shake, as you move as quickly as possible, shoving more boxes to the side and focusing on the floor. And yes, only a few moments later you find yet another line, one that contains boxes with more dots - orange ones. But it doesn’t stop there. Seokmin finds another line and boxes that, once again, don’t have a dot. He wants to pull his hair out, but once you begin looking at the boxes with him, your gaze full of determination, he calms down. Together, the two of you turn over every single box until, after what feels like hours, you let out a gasp. The box you’re holding now doesn’t only have a red dot on it - it also contains something. Seokmin is next to you right when you pull out the small key that makes both of you almost jump in glee. Your hunch had been right. Now all you had to do was find where the key belonged. Your eyes met and without words, Seokmin went to the left side of the room and you to the right one, both of your hearts beating at rapid speed at this point. Neither of you wants to or will leave this place until you find whatever door is hidden behind the wooden planks decorating the walls. Your hands flew over them, knocking to hear a hollow sound, anything that would indicate there being a hidden space. Nervous sweat was now mixing with the rain on your face, the earlier cold all forgotten thanks to the adrenaline you were feeling.

“I got something!” Seokmin suddenly yells after a few minutes and you immediately turn and run over to him, seeing him break the wall free of the plank. Just that there is no wall. It is a thin wooden door with a small lock that looks like it was made for the key safely stored inside the pocket of your jeans. Without any hesitation, you move forward, key back in your hand after pulling it out, and reuniting it with its lock - the door clicking open a second later. Seokmin and you look at each other again before you push the door with your hand, it easily swings open for you and Seokmin to see a narrow hallway led down by an old looking staircase. There is a string hanging down from the ceiling which Seokmin pulls on, lighting up the hallway for you to see more clearly.

“Well, let’s go,” you say and Seokmin nods, both of you with one hand on your gun belts as you walk down the stairs, all the way down to a door that, thankfully, isn’t locked. Pushing this one open as well, you are met by another hallway, longer this time, with three doors leading to different rooms on each side. You feel adrenaline rush through you as you begin walking, Seokmin right behind you. The first two doors lead to empty storage rooms, you taking the ones on the left, Seokmin on the right. Your hands feel clammy and your senses are all heightened as you continue to the next door, opening it at once and checking the insides carefully, gun in your hand. No one is in there - but it’s also not empty.

“Seokmin!” You call out and the man is beside you right then, eyes scanning the room. It’s an office, or at least it appears to be. Right on the wall across from you hangs a portrait of a beautiful landscape and only barely hides a very obvious closet of some sorts. You shove your gun back into your belt and walk straight up to it, while Seokmin goes to examine the desk standing at the left side of the room. He pulls out a pair of gloves from the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls them over his fingers before he begins to open each and every drawer.

“There isn’t much dust around here,” you suddenly say and Seokmin looks over at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Someone comes here regularly. Cleans it of dust, keeps the floors clean.” You look around for a moment, then your focus is back on the painting hanging over the closet. Your hands are also wrapped up in a pair of gloves and you move slowly as you grab the edges of the frame to heave it off the wall. It occurs to you that the last time someone was here, they hadn’t succeeded in putting the painting back into its usual spot. You can tell because it comes off the wall without any problems, having been crooked from the beginning on. Now, you lean it against the wall next to you, before your hands open the closet.

“Is something in there?” Seokmin walks over to you now, nothing interesting inside the desk.

Once he comes to a halt next to you, he feels himself gasp. There is a whole shelf with files that seem to be alphabetically organized. Your heart beat speeds up once more as you grab a random file (Br-Bu) and open it.

“That-,” Seokmin’s eyes widen. As you continue staring at the page, he moves to pull out more of the files. He brings them over to the desk and opens them one by one, until he finds all the names he has been looking for.

“Broshard, Cartwright, Franco, Rogers, Twain and White.”

Seokmin and you are staring at the files. It was all of the girls’ parents. They had all been part of this cult before. It made sense, of course it did. And yet, having it here, black on white, was still a shock. This meant their connection had been right there, so easy to grab, and none of the parents had thought about sharing this with the police. You lean against the desk, hands pulling through your damp hair. Seokmin’s hands are propped on his hips, his eyes reading over the names over and over again.

“We have confirmation now,” he states, “we need to call the precinct.” He looks over at you and you nod, your hands still resting in your hair. Worry rushes through Seokmin and he finds himself standing in front of you a second later, his hands around your wrists to bring your hands back down softly.

“We will get him,” he says then, eyes boring into yours, “we will get him and he will be punished, Y/N, I promise you.”

It’s unprofessional, he knows it and so do you. You don’t ever promise to catch a killer.

“Why didn’t the parents tell you?” Your voice is quiet and Seokmin sighs, shrugging. His hands are still holding you.

“I don’t know. Shame, fear? Whoever is doing this is a cold blooded murder, Y/N, they were probably scared he’d take even more from them.”

“More than a child?” You look up at him, letting the feelings that you’ve been holding back finally crack through.

“I guess so? We will find all of this out tomorrow, we just need to get back to the motel and call the precinct.”

He says the words but doesn’t move. Neither do you. You both stay right where you are, your eyes locked on each other. The air around you shifts, the exhaustion mixes with something you only have faint memories of.

“You are incredible, do you know that?” Seokmin whispers finally, “the way your brain works - it’s incredible. Admirable.”

His body heat engulfs you, makes you feel hot and cold at the same time. You swallow down your doubts and instead let your heart do the talking.

“You’re just as incredible, Seokmin. All the work you’ve done in this case already… if it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

Seokmin feels himself holding his breath as his one hand moves from your wrist to your fingers, interlocking them with his own while the other moves up, cupping your cheek, thumb caressing the side of your chin. He feels your skin, the softness he remembers better than he wants to admit.

Neither of you is sure who does it. Who dares to close the distance. But you’re kissing, his lips warm and familiar on yours. Your arms move by themselves, wrapping around Seokmin’s neck as he deepens the kiss, his tongue licking over your bottom lip slowly, asking for entrance that you give him without any hesitation. He kisses better than he did back in high school and his hands are more experienced, moving down and up to grab your hips and hoist you on top of the desk, standing in between your legs now. You grab his face, your tongue licking against his, feeling the stress and discomfort of the day leave you with every touch of his skin. The kiss grows more and more desperate, both of you panting against each other and only after a good five minutes do you part, his hands in your hair and yours on his nape.

“We should get out of here,” he mumbles against your lips then and you nod, letting him help you down the desk.

This time the drive isn’t awkward. It’s filled with something else, something you haven’t felt in so long. Not just regarding Seokmin - but in general. Your work is your everything and you and your team travel around the country more than you don’t. Wanting someone, feeling wanted by someone, this hasn’t happened to you in a while. Your gaze keeps wandering to the driving Seokmin, to the man that had once hurt you so much and now was the only thing you could concentrate on.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that I will park this car on the side of the road and not give a fuck about anyone seeing what I want to do to you, Y/N.”

His deep voice made your insides turn deliciously, the heat between your legs rising as you licked over your dry lips, eyes shaking as you nodded, averting your gaze from Seokmin’s intoxicating frame. As much as the idea excited you it also seemed like a stupid idea considering the motel really wasn’t that far away.

It doesn’t take half as long as it usually would with Seokmin speeding down the road, finally parking the car in the parking lot, getting out of the car and opening the door for you, his hand around yours in no time as he leads you to the door, both of you drenched again when you step inside. But even with all the tension between you two, Seokmin walks over to the telephone on the wall, passing a young man who just seemed to have left his room to go outside. You present him with a nod when he smiles at you, quick to look at Seokmin again who is now dialing the number of the precinct.

When he explains what you found, he speaks quietly and rushed, you by his side the whole time, holding his fingers between yours. The tension doesn’t subside, it only gets shoved to the side as Seokmin talks to his superior, who was still at the station at this time, waiting for your call. Your head feels dizzy, the situation bizarre but also somewhat addictive. The second Seokmin hangs up, knowing his colleagues will leave for Schnecksville as soon as the storm gets better, he wraps an arm around your waist and leads you to your room with hurried steps.

The door falls shut behind the two of you and your body is pressed against it, Seokmin’s one hand skillfully wrapped around both of your wrists, pinning them over your head as he dips down to kiss you, his thigh pressing between yours. A moan escapes you, your hands wiggling under Seokmin’s grasp. He kisses you with the same desperation as before, his free hand underneath your shirt, fingers pressing into your skin.

Nothing is inside your head except the need for him. You don’t want to feel anything but his touch, his kisses, the way his tongue feels against yours - hot and wet and perfect. He moves his arm around you again, picks you up as if you weigh nothing, carrying you over to the bed where he drops you, your eyes wide as you stare up at him. There is no light in the room beside the one coming from outside, making him look angelic. His carefully styled hair is falling into his face now, his lips red from your kisses. His pupils are blown out and the look in his eyes runs shivers down your spine. You watch as he gets rid of his jacket and belt, following his movement as you sit up a little bit, skillfully opening the belt with your gun and leaving it on the floor next to the bed, feeling the mattress move the next second as Seokmin lowers himself onto the bed. Your hands find his nape once more just as he presses his lips against yours again, hands roaming from your hips to your stomach and under your shirt, gripping your breasts one by one and moaning into your mouth when his thumb feels the stiff nipple underneath your bra.

His tongue licks against yours again, your back arching against him as he moves to kiss down your neck, biting and licking and kissing all the same. When he hears your sounds, he feels himself growing harder, his composure almost breaking as he takes off your shirt with your help, shoving the cups of your bra to the side to dip down and suck your nipple into his mouth, your legs wrapping around his waist as you push him closer to you, teeth sinking into you bottom lip. It feels like electricity between you, the way he touches you sends shocks through your body in the best way possible.

“God, I can’t believe I have you under me again, fuck,” Seokmin breathes against your neck now, his breath tickling you. “Been thinking about you so much, you know? About how much more I know now… how I can make you cum, baby, eat your sweet pussy and have you scream my name.”

His words send another wave of shivers down your body and you nod, wishing for nothing more than for your and his clothing to land on the floor.

“Seokmin… just want you to fuck me, please, need you so so bad.”

He groans, cock twitching and he finally moves to open his pants. It’s all hurried and a little bit frantic, the way you pull on his shirt next and the way your bra basically gets ripped off your frame by him. It drives you crazy, how he kisses you, pushing you further up the bed, your head hitting the pillow as he devours your lips and tongue, his hand squeezing your tits over and over, his stiff cock right there between your legs, still caged in by his briefs.

“How bad do you want it, hm?” He breathes out, his fingers now moving downwards, ending up over your clothed pussy, making you squirm.

“Fuck, so bad, Seokmin. Please.”

He sucks on the skin underneath your ear and lets his fingers shove your panty to the side, sliding through your wet folds and moaning against you. You’re so wet, wet and ready for him.

“I wonder if you still taste the same, baby,” he mumbles, continuing to let his fingers glide through your lips, letting one of them sink into you. Your pussy practically sucks him in, eager to feel him inside. Seokmin kisses you again and your nails are dragging along his back as your hips move against Seokmin’s digit inside of you.

“M-more, want more of you,” you cry out when you come up for air and Seokmin nods, letting a second finger slide in too, fully finger fucking you now as he smothers your neck with more kisses, preceding to suck marks onto the sensitive skin of your breasts, your whimpers becoming more and more frenzied. You need his cock and you need it now. So, you let your hand wander down, grabbing around the wrist of his hand that is currently fucking you.

“Want your cock, Seok… fuck me with your cock.” His eyes meet yours, gaze almost crazy as he curses under his breath, nodding before pulling his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth to suck them clean - making you whimper in the process. He licks his lips after.

“Still so tasty, baby… all for me.”

He kisses you one more time, deep and emotional and dizzying, before finally ridding himself of his briefs and you of your panties, hand pumping his length a few times. You watch and swallow, remembering how he had felt back then. He had been your first. And now he was going to claim back what he had made his so many years ago.

When he sinks into you, both of you cry out in pleasure, his arms on the mattress next to your head and his lips kissing your cheek, chin and lips. You are still hugging him close, fingers pressing into his nape and back. His first thrust is deep and slow and your eyes roll back, a long moan escaping your kiss-bruised lips. He can’t keep going slow, he knows that. As hard as he tries - he knows he won’t be able to control himself. Which leads to his thrusts becoming faster, to his moans becoming louder and your pussy clenching around him more often. It’s hot and wet and quick, it’s making you feel like you’re in a dream, his teeth sinking into your flesh, your cries spurring him on. Your legs are around his hips, his cock hitting you right where you need it to with every thrust and when you feel his hand sneaking in between you, thumb pressing down on your clit, rubbing it in perfect circles, you know you won’t last long.

“You feel so good, baby, take my cock so fucking well.” He moves, on his knees in front of you now, your legs over his shoulders the next second. The new angle makes you see stars, especially with his thumb still on your clit.

“F-fuck, Seok! I’m so close.” Your cry makes him smirk, his movements becoming less and less controlled, as he is chasing both of your releases. You give up on keeping your eyes open, enjoying the way he feels, the way he hits you right where it feels so incredibly good. Your body is on fire, everything feels more intense and if you had the capacity in your brain you’d probably worry about exploding.

And you do - you explode only a few seconds later, your orgasm hitting you hard, leaving you to cry out his name, nails back in his skin, leaving clear marks that he will be proud of later.

“That’s right, baby, look at you, so pretty coming on my cock, fuck,” Seokmin feels you pulsate around him, feels how your pussy clenches over and over, milking him for all he has and there isn’t anything he can do but reach his own high, cum shooting out his cock and into your spent core. He collapses on top of you, your legs falling off his shoulders, spasming at the intensity of your climax. His breath is right there in your ear and you finally open your eyes again, fingers moving to stroke through his hair. You stay like this for a while, just catching your breath, feeling him so close after so long. Only when he slips out of you, laying down next to you, his lips pressing a kiss to your cheek, do you regain some senses. Smiling at him, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.

When you come back out, Seokmin is asleep. Chuckling, you pick up his shirt from the floor and slip it over your head before laying back down, cuddling into his side and letting yourself drift off into a dreamless sleep.

For Seokmin it’s not a dreamless sleep, though. It hasn’t even been two hours he’s been asleep when he wakes up, cold sweat covering his body. He looks down and sees you peacefully sleeping right beside him, one of your hands on his bare stomach, the other under your own cheek. In any other case he would have loved to look at you for as long as he could, but this isn’t like any other case.

The man, he thinks, the man we saw yesterday. Seokmin gets up, careful not to wake you up, grabbing his underwear from the floor, just like his pants. You’re in his shirt so he has no other choice but to leave the room with his chest still bare. His feet carry him out the room and to the small entrance space, right to the phone where he dials Bream’s number again. The second someone picks up, Seokmin begins talking.

“It’s the son, Sir, the Travises son - he’s the unsub.”

The area in front of the farm hasn’t been this busy in years. There are cop cars everywhere, a S.W.A.T team is about to arrive. Seokmin has his hands pushed into his pockets as he talks to his superior officer. You are standing further away next to Matthew and Yuqi, listening to Hyunwoo’s orders.

Seokmin had recognised the son, Henry, from the pictures at the house. You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner.

“Don’t linger on those feelings, Y/N,” Hyunwoo says, “it had been a long day.”

Yes, a long day that ended with you being too horny to do your job properly. You don’t tell him that of course. Instead, you press your lips together and just nod.

Henry is inside the barn now, the barn you and Seokmin found the secret door in last night. His parents and the missing girl, Kelly, are with him. It’s a classic hostage situation and yet even your team is at a loss of words. It all doesn’t make sense right now. Why is Henry doing this? You let your gaze flicker over to the barn, wondering what he is doing to them right now.

The head of the S.W.A.T team is walking over to Hyunwoo now. They apparently arrived just now

“We are ready for your orders, Sir,” he says, shaking Hyunwoo’s hand. Your boss nods.

“Alright, thank you. I’ll let you know when you can go in.” The man leaves again after that and you look at Hyunwoo, unsure.

“We need him alive, don’t we?”

“In theory, yes. But it’s not always easy, you know that. Whatever is going on inside of him, we will only find out if we get him out, but we need to look at the bigger picture. We need to figure out what his deal is.”

Just then, Jungwoo arrives at the scene, carrying a white box.

“You won’t believe this,” he says, putting the box on top of the police car next to you. Seokmin is suddenly next to you, his arm brushing against yours and making you shiver. You ignore the effect once again.

“Henry Crawl, 36, was adopted by the Travises when he was 9 years old. It says here that his mother committed suicide and the Travises took him in - Mrs. Travis being is paternal aunt. She felt responsible for him, considering the father left right after his birth and his mother died.”

“So, they aren’t his biological parents. They didn’t mention that.” Seokmin frowns.

“Which means that there is a chance his mother was part of this cult. Is there an autopsy report for his mum?” You take step closer to the box and Jungwoo nods, handing you the document. Scanning it, your eyes widen as suddenly the reason for all of this is starting to make sense.

“There were signs of abuse - of years of abuse. Scars, bruises, internal damages.” You shake your head, “he isn’t killing women because he hates them. He kills them because he is avenging his mother.”

“She was part of the cult, probably around the same time as the parents of the girls. They probably knew about the abuse and he somehow figured it out.” Matthew chews on his bottom lip as he shoves his glasses up his nose.

“We need to talk to him. Need him to let the girl go as well as his parents.” Hyunwoo looks over at the truck where all the special units are gathered. He excuses himself and goes over to them. The atmosphere shifts, there are nervous droplets of sweat running down your face. The storm might have stopped, but it’s still slightly drizzling down on you. Seokmin’s hand finds the small of your back. You flinch, your head turning to look at him wide eyed.

“It’s gonna be okay, we’re going to get them out of there,” his voice is soothing you, as much as you hate to admit it. You swallow down whatever you’re thinking and shake his hand off, before walking over to Hyunwoo and the special forces, leaving Seokmin behind.

“I want to talk to him.” Your voice breaks through the conversation Hyunwoo is having with the captain. Both of them look at you, eyebrows raised.

“Y/N-,” Hyunwoo starts, but you interrupt him.

“You know it has to be me. I am roughly the same age as his mother was back then. I am a woman. I know what is going on inside his head. Please, Sir, let me do this.”

If there had been more time, maybe they would have argued with you. But there isn’t any time. And so, they nod. As much as it makes you nervous, you also know that you’re right. You’re confident that you can do this, that you have the ability to save this girl and Henry’s parents. Taking a deep breath, you look over at Seokmin, who’s eyes speak more than a thousand words. He knows why you walked over there and he knows that you are the only one for the job. The smile on his lips reassures you more than you want to admit.

Not even five minutes later you have a walkie-talkie in your hand. The other one landed in the barn roughly a minute ago. Now, you’re waiting for Henry to respond after your first attempt at contact. The rain is still falling softly, the sun nowhere to be seen in the sky. It’s early, you’re not sure how early, but you estimate it to be sometime after 6 am.

“I won’t let them go!” The voice coming from the device in your hand brings you back to the here and now, blood rushing in your ears.

“Henry, hello, it’s good to hear your voice,” you say softly, looking over at one of the windows of the barn, wondering if he is watching you.

“I don’t- I won’t let them go,” he repeats and you lick your dried out lips.

“Okay, Henry. I hear what you’re saying, alright? You don’t want to let them go. Could you tell me why?”

“They need to pay for their sins!” It’s not hard to make out that he’s enraged, crying, but still hurt and confused.

“What are their sins, Henry? Can you tell me?” You look over your shoulder at the rest of your team, Hyunwoo nodding at you and you nod back.

“You- you really want to know?” The shift in his voice tells you that your question had been exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Yes, Henry. I want to know, I want to understand.”

There is silence on the other line for just a few moments. You remain calm and don’t ask again. It’s important you give him space, important for the hostages as well as to earn his trust.

“They- they knew about my mum. My adoptive parents. I heard them say it. They knew why the police came to visit. It was because of her, because of mum. She was tortured by them, by the whole cult! And everyone who knew about it and didn’t do anything needs to be punished.” His voice is shaking as he speaks and you wonder if the hostages are in the room with him or if he has them hidden underneath the barn in one of the rooms you found last night.

“You’re doing this for your mum, Henry? You’re avenging her life?”

“Yes!”

“I understand. You did well, Henry. You hurt them the way they hurt you. They should have never taken your mother from you, Henry, that was wrong of them,” the words leaving your mouth aren’t what you’re actually thinking, but they will do the trick. Henry will trust you, he will listen to what you have to say.

“I- I did this for her. I wanted her to know I never gave up on her. B-but-,” he stops and you hear a sob, sure now that he is indeed crying.

“But? You can talk to me Henry, I am here for you.” You bite your lip, hoping you’re not pressing the matter too far.

“B-but…,” Henry starts again, “but he- he betrayed me. He told me- he told me they were the only one’s at fault. He told me he wanted to avenge her too…”

He? You once again turn to your team, all of their faces in frowns.

“Who is “he”, Henry?”

No answer. Henry isn’t responding. You feel a slight panic arise inside of you.

“Henry, it’s okay. You don’t need to tell me, okay? Just- tell me about you, about your mum. You must miss her dearly, right?”

“My mum deserved better than what she got. She shouldn’t have killed herself, she should have fought through it! But she couldn’t. She was so scared of what they had done to her, what he had done to her! I wanted them all to suffer, wanted them all to know what it feels like losing someone they love. And I did that, I did that to him too!” He gets louder with every word.

“Henry, you’re frustrations are valid. But, please, it is enough. You’ve showed them, you’ve hurt them. Enough people have died, Henry. Let your parents and Kelly go and you will be free.”

Henry is silent for a short while again.

“If he doesn’t respond, we’ll go in,” the S.W.A.T team’s leader is now saying to Hynwoo and latter holds up his hand, as if to signal to give it more time.

“Henry? Can you do that for me?” You ask again. Everyone is growing more and more uneasy, the more time passes. Your hands are sweaty and you feel like the rain isn’t the reason for why your clothes are damp again. Just when Hyunwoo is about to take his hand down, to let the special unit do their job - the doors of the barn open and Kelly runs out, the Travises right behind her. They all seem completely out of it but there are clear signs of relief on their faces. Seokmin and Stolper run towards them, helping them when they see, that Mr. Travis is limping and both women are spurting wounds on their face. You close your eyes and take a deep breath before pressing the button to talk again.

“Henry? Henry, are you there?”

“My parents always loved me. They raised me when mum died. But they knew, you know. They knew! Which means, they need to suffer, too.”

Your heart skips a beat when you throw the walkie-talkie to the side and run towards the barn, your team right behind you. You don’t think you’ve ever run as fast as you do right now. The air is tight around you and its rough to breathe.

Henry is right there at the back of the barn, holding a gun to his head. You scream and Hyunwoo shoots forward to tackle him down - but it’s too late. The shot is heard but your eyes are closed, your knees growing weak but you stay standing. Henry is dead even before he hits the floor and there is nothing you can do.

The hostages are free, so it counts as a win. The Manhattan Slasher is finally caught. He lays there, dead on the ground. He is getting carried away now, by two coroners who present you with a nod as you wait for Matthew and Jungwoo to come back upstairs. You hadn’t felt like you could go downstairs and see whatever Henry had left for you to find.

You're sitting outside now, seeing Seokmin approach you, with a file in his hands. You look up at him, blinking against the rain. When he stands in front of you, it’s almost like the sun showed its face after all. He isn’t smiling, though. He just radiates this energy that immediately gets your spirits up.

“The judge,” he says, handing you the file, “it’s all in here. He was the one controlling Henry. Told him all those parents were the reason his mum suffered. And while it’s not all a lie - the judge himself was the actual perpetrator.”

With a slightly shaking hand, you reach for the file and open it, reading through what is evidence of Seokmin’s words. Now, this was something neither you nor your team has predicted. You swallow down a set of tears.

“He used Henry. But for what?”

“My guess is as good as yours, but, if I may try myself at your job: They probably got fed up with his shit. Told him they would rat him out to the police if he didn’t turn himself in for abusing that woman. He began killing their children as a way to keep them quiet. My guess is, that he has been keeping them quiet ever since Henry’s mum committed suicide and they all only recently began to wonder if maybe this was wrong.”

Seokmin’s words reach your brain and they make sense as much as they don’t. You’ve been working this job long enough to know that there will never be something as full closure. People act irrationally all the time, do things no one understands. There is nothing you can do about it but wait it out, wait for the injustice to die down within you. In the end there is no point to try and understand people like this. Not that these parents deserved to have their daughters get killed.

You thank Seokmin with a small nod and he sits down next to you. Next there will be the arrest of the judge. Then the parents will be questioned, and will get a punishment of their own because they didn’t stop the murders when they had the chance. You know they couldn’t because they were scared, but the law is clear.

You feel Seokmin’s hand capturing yours and you look over at him. The business around the farm isn’t done yet. Boxes get carried and there is more forensic personnel than you’ve seen in a while, probably taking apart the basement you and Seokmin had found. It should be relief you’re feeling but right now you’re just tired.

So, when Seokmin pulls you against him, arm around your waist, you don’t even try to stop yourself from laying your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes.

header by @wongyuseokie.

#svthub #svthub.collab #lee seokmin fanfiction #dokyeom fanfiction #seokmin fanfiction #seokmin x reader #dokyeom x reader #dk x reader #dk fanfiction #svt x reader #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen smut #svt smut #dk smut #dokyeom smut #seokmin smut #lee seokmin smut #ksmutsociety

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muffinlance · 6 months ago

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State of the Muffin Report 2023-24

Happy belated birthday to my fanfics! Little Zuko turned six back in March. <3

Behold, my annual roundup stats, because you can get fanfic from the math teacher but you can’t get the math out of the fanfic:

[id: Screenshot of an excel spreadsheet showing my 2023-24 word counts. Important info is that over six stories, I wrote 104k words, for a monthly average of 8.6k and a daily of 284 words. End id.]

Fanfic:

After not touching the birthday fic itself since 2019, Little Zuko v the World is finally finished! Woooo.

Otherwise, a slow-but-steady sort of year on the fanfic front.

Serious Face Writing & RL:

Li’s Friends has now raised $4,206.21 USD for wildlife charity, not counting gift matches. <3

Finished the second book in my original fic series, Fox’s Tongue; The Skin Stealer’s Son officially launched yesterday! (Affiliate link, so that if you happen to buy it, Amazon pays me extra money for the privilege.)

I also created a secondary tiny human, and she is a DELIGHT. She was last seen a half hour ago crawling after her brother like a particularly aggressive tripod, Hop on Pop in one hand, and slap-screaming at it until he read it to her. My children. <3

Year Six (2024-25) Goals

Fanfic:

Gonna finish the new case of Dark Night in Ba Sing Se. Gonna finish it so good. (This is a donation fic for the winner of my Fandom Trumps Hate charity auction and is therefore due by the end of the year, so woo artificial timelines! Ah external motivations, how I missed you from my school days.)

I’m incredibly excited for Blindsiding Badgermoles, and have that same lovely external motivation in the form of my sensitivity reader, so planning to focus on that this year.

Finish the current book of Towards the Sun. We’re currently on the final field trip, so that should be very doable. —I say, using the exact same wording for the third year in a row. Honestly this one’s less a goal than a joke to see how many years it’s actually going to take me. And hey, I’ve been making progress! We now have the delight that is Lady Jun! Third year’s the charm?

Serious Face Writing & RL:

Get a solid start on Fox’s Tongue Book Three, Face of the Wolf King.

Get out large print editions of the first two books.

Continue raising children.

Special thanks this year goes to First and Secondborn, who blessed me with the ability to still manage over 100k in a year, which is way more than I anticipated at this time last year.

Cheers,

MuffinLance

#state of the muffin report #avatar the last airbender #atla #fox's tongue and kirin's bone #writing stuff

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freakspectors · 1 year ago

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PAPER SOLDIER.

A Fyodor Dostoyevsky | BSD x Female Reader x Dazai Osamu | BSD Smut Fanfic.

warnings ; smut, pussy slapping, fingering, threesomes, degradation, biting, praise if you squint, orgasm denial if you get a magnifying glass, not proof-read.

author's note ; hihi !! sorry for my absence, im getting ready for school next week, and my birthday was this weekend :) im working on a fic that was dedicated to myself rn, so have this tiny fic. enjoy! funfact: all my fic titles are songs that i like ;p !

“Look at her, clenching around nothing. Pathetic, is it not?”

Dazai and Fyodor laughed with each other, degrading you as if you weren’t right in front of them. You knew not to speak unless spoken to, afraid of the punishment that would ensue if you had. After the two radiant men in front of you finished joking about your neediness, the Russian knelt down between your shaking legs.

“Do tell, Moya lyubov, how bad do you crave to have both of us inside of you?” he asked. Fyodor caressed your thighs, his breath fanning against your warm, sticky core. Instead of answering, you scoot yourself towards the demon's mouth, begging to have his tongue ravage you.

Disappointed, Fyodor pulls away from your legs and sits on his knees, giving you an insincere frown. You looked at the raven haired man confused, unsure of where Dazai went or why he was upset with you. Before you could even process he was now beside you, the brunette man’s hand smacked down on your cunt, making you jolt and yelp.

“We don’t want to do this, Bella. You’ve been such a good girl until now—” Dazai murmured. Using his middle and ring finger, he spreads you open, shooting a wicked smile at Fyodor; which he returns to him.

“—But you hadn’t answered my question. Disobeying orders results in a punishment; I thought you knew that well,” the rat keened. As if he read his mind, Dazai removed his fingers from your pussy and gave it another rough slap. Tears started to form; but all the two men did was chuckle.

“Wanna give it another go, hun?” the detective asked. He kissed your shoulder, resting his free hand on the other to massage you. “Maybe Fyodor’ll give you another chance..”

“Oh, but her teary, desperate eyes are gorgeous..”

“Indeed. But I’m sure she’s ready to redeem herself.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want to fuck her?”

“So what if I do? If you didn’t want to as well, you wouldn’t be here,” Dazai teased. Listening to them bicker over you only made you wetter, which hadn’t gone unnoticed.

With a hum, Dazai kissed your cheek and slid his fingers back through your slit. You moaned, arching your back at the sudden pleasure. He moved his digits up, rubbing tight circles on your sensitive clit. “C’mon, baby. Answer his question,” he whispered.

Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Fyodor back between your legs, kissing and biting the inside of your thighs. Just the sight of him and Dazai’s fingers could make you cum, but another punishment is the last thing you want. You open your mouth to speak; but a whine leaves your throat instead.

“You’re not fucked dumb already, are you?” the Russian questioned. “We’ve barely even started, kukla.”

“It’s just a few words, belladonna,” Dazai said. His fingers dove inside you, slowly pistoning them in and out of you, “say what he wants, and we’ll make you feel amazing.”

“Here, I’ll even ask you again:” Fyodor starts, “how bad do you crave to have both of us inside of you?”

“S-So bad.. I need both of you to fill me up..” you mumble. Fyodor tutted you and shook his head with another frown. Sighing with dissatisfaction, the brunette pulled his fingers out of you. The tears that were in your eyes finally fell, hot salty streaks going down your cheeks.

“I’m afraid you need to be louder, darling. Just a little more, I swear to you,” the rat said. Dazai shushed you and wiped your tears while Fyodor kissed and nibbled on your thighs like a mouse with cheese. He always got so close to your quivering pussy, yet pulled away each time he did. “Go on, love.”

“So bad, Fyodor.. I-I need the both of you to cum inside me s-so much I pass out..”

“See, was that so hard?” Dazai teased, a punchable smile plastered on his face. If you weren’t in your current situation, you’d glare at him.

“Khoroshaya rabota, moya dorogaya,” Fyodor praised. “Now, get on your hands and knees..”

“It’s time for your reward.”

@ HELUVAKU 2023 . do not share or repost .

#⁺˚⋆✩₊ heluvaku works .#bsd smut #bungo stray dogs smut #bungou stray dogs smut #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #dazai smut #dazai osamu smut #fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky smut #fyodor smut #dazai osamu #bsd x reader smut #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader smut #bungo stray dogs x reader

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candycandy00 · 11 months ago

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The Doll House - A Gojo x Reader Fanfic Part 2

You sell yourself to the Doll House to pay your mom’s medical expenses, only to discover your trainer is the guy who bullied you relentlessly in high school: Gojo Satoru.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read Geto’s Part Here!

Read Toji’s Part Here!

Read Nanami’s Part Here!

Read Sukuna’s Part Here!

Read Choso’s Part Here!

Note: Please remember that these stories don’t take place at the same time, or even one after the other! Consider each one its own timeline. So if you see Geto and Toji with other dolls, don’t be alarmed lol. I had to do it this way because if I don’t, by the time I get to the last trainer, there won’t be any other trainers left to interact with!

AU! Each trainer will get their own story! This is Gojo’s. If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged! Any feedback whatsoever is adored!

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Chubby Reader. Dubcon. Pet Play. Bullying. Collars/Leashes. Fingering. Anal sex. Vaginal sex. Blindfolds. Bondage. Anal plugs. Humiliation. Oral sex. Gojo being an asshole.

The next morning, Gojo wakes up early, too eager to begin Chubby Bunny’s real training. Last night was just testing the waters.

He keeps a stock of new items ready and available, in various sizes and themes, so he’s well prepared. By the time Chubby Bunny wakes up, he has his bed lined with cute outfits for her.

She gets to her feet, stretches, and walks over to look at the clothes, the chain on her leash clinking. “What is all this?” she asks, picking up one of the pieces.

“It’s your wardrobe,” he tells her.

She doesn’t seem to like them. Her face scrunches up as if she just saw something disgusting. “These are all way too small. They won’t fit me.”

“Of course they will. I picked them specifically to highlight your best features!”

She glares at him, like he insulted her terribly. Why does she always react that way to compliments?

“Try something on,” he says, walking over and unhooking the leash from her collar. “You can change in the bathroom if you don’t want to do it here.”

She sifts through the items, holding several of them up and looking increasingly upset. “Why are there holes in the ass of all of these?”

Gojo laughs. “For your tail, silly!”

She looks confused, but eventually chooses an outfit and goes to the bathroom. He hears the lock click into place and thinks it’s cute that she’s so shy. When she emerges a little while later, she’s holding her pajamas in front of herself like a shield.

“I was right, it’s too small,” she says, hovering near the bathroom door.

“Come on over and let me see,” Gojo tells her.

She doesn’t move. “It looks awful on me. Can I just wear something else?”

Gojo rolls his eyes. “Chubby Bunny, I saw you completely naked last night. I’ve already memorized every single inch of you. So stop being bashful and let me see.”

He meant the words to be reassuring, but she looks horrified. Regardless, she steps further into the room and slowly drops the pajamas.

Gojo doesn’t think he’s ever gotten hard so fast in his life. She’s wearing the outfit that covers the most, but it’s still super revealing. It resembles a pale pink one-piece swimsuit, with high cut areas for the thighs and tiny spaghetti straps at the top. Her lovely, pillowy tits are barely contained, threatening to pop out at any moment. The matching pink thigh high stockings, which she probably put on to cover a little more, only make her look more erotic. The way the thick flesh of her thighs sticks out a little over the top of the stockings drives him wild.

She’s looking away from him, crossing one arm over her chest, not realizing that only squeezes her tits together and makes her look even sexier.

He stops staring long enough to remember the outfit isn’t complete yet. Not without the finishing touches. He grabs the bunny ears and puts them on her head, and hooks the leash back onto her collar. Finally, the tail.

When he brings it to her, he makes sure to open the sealed package in front of her. He wants her to know this is a new item, not something he used on a previous doll. It’s a fluffy, round white bunny tail, connected to a shiny silver butt plug. “Get on the bed, on all fours, and I’ll put your tail in.”

Her eyes flick between the tail and his face, frantic, like a frightened little rabbit. She really is the cutest!

“You can’t be serious,” she says.

“This is part of the training. I said I wouldn’t give you special treatment, remember? All my pets have to have a tail.”

“How long do I have to wear that thing?”

“Until I take it out,” he says.

She’s still looking at the tail as if it’s some dangerous weapon he’s going to use to attack her.

“Look, it’s way smaller than my dick, so it shouldn’t hurt at all.”

She looks down, lowering her voice as she says, “But I’m still sore from last night.”

Somehow, hearing her say that in that shy little voice turns him on even more. He pulls the leash, forcing her to come closer to him, and gently rubs her head. “It’s okay, Bunny. I’ll lube you up really good. Once you get used to it, I promise you’ll like it.”

She finally nods and climbs onto the bed, her ass pointing at him. Fuck, she’s hot. He has to resist the urge to fuck her again right there. He controls himself, and opens the lube, dripping it into the hole in her outfit, right over her asshole. He massages it in, enjoying the way she quivers and jerks away. He slides his other hand down and finds her clit, giving it a few quick strokes with his fingers. She makes the cutest little squeak he’s ever heard, her whole body jolting. He’s never seen a woman with such a sensitive pussy before, and he loves it.

She looks back at him over her shoulder. “A-are you done yet?”

“Nope,” he says, holding the tail up to his face, running his tongue over the plug. She watches as he coats it thoroughly with his saliva, her face looking more and more embarrassed. “Now, relax your body. I’m putting it in.”

She turns away, facing forward again. Her hands are gripping the sheets tightly. He wishes she would just relax. But he can’t wait forever, so he spreads her cheeks with his fingers and lines the tail up with her hole. It slides in easily, and she only makes a few quiet whimpers. The hole in the outfit has a cute bow attached at the back, which fastens around the tail, keeping it securely in.

“It’s in,” he says, stepping back.

For a few seconds, she doesn’t move an inch, then she gradually moves off the bed and stands beside it. She keeps trying to turn and look at her ass. “It feels weird,” she tells him.

“You’ll get used to it,” he responds. “Turn around and wiggle your tail for me.”

She gives him another one of those looks, the kind she used to give him in high school when he swiped her notebook from her desk and made her beg him to give it back. It riles him up even now.

Still looking half angry, half mortified, she turns to face away from him and gives the tiniest shake of her ass.

“Oh come on, you can do better than that! Wiggle!” He gives the leash a little tug, just to urge her on.

She glances back at him again, then sighs and bends over slightly, showing off her round ass. Then she wiggles it properly, the bunny tail wagging in the air, her thick thighs and ass jiggling in the cutest way.

Fuck, he can’t hold back. She’s way too fucking adorable.

He jerks the leash, pulling her to him, right up against his body. Ah, she’s so soft! But his cock is so hard it feels like it’s about to explode.

“Get on your knees,” he says, almost breathless, “and open your mouth.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, a blush creeping over her features. But she’s an obedient pet, so she carefully lowers herself to her knees, making sure not to disrupt the tail. By the time he has his dick out, she’s waiting with her mouth open, just like he wanted.

She’s perfect.

There’s no hesitation when she wraps her plump lips around his cock, her wet tongue gliding over his tip. She has one hand at the base of his shaft, stroking to the same rhythm as her lips, and the other hand gently squeezing his balls.

Gojo can’t help but groan. “Holy fuck, how does a virgin learn to suck cock like this?”

She pulls back and looks up at him, strings of saliva connecting her mouth to his tip. “I’ve done this before,” she says, then goes back to sucking him off, taking him so deep he hits the back of her throat.

He can’t take his eyes off her, watching her head bob back and forth, hearing the wet sounds she’s making. The girl he’s wanted for so many years, the girl he’s been crazy over, is on her knees in front of him, deep throating his cock. It’s the best feeling in the whole world.

It’s occurred to Gojo that she’s not aware of his feelings for her, now or even back in high school. He’ll tell her at some point. Right now, he’s kind of turned on by the idea of her thinking it’s a one-sided thing, of her pining away for him. It makes teasing her so much more fun.

“You must be loving this,” he says, grinning when her eyes shift up to his face. “The guy you thought you had no shot with has his cock in your mouth.”

She lowers her eyes, but doesn’t stop. He liked it better when she looked up at him, but her tongue on the underside of his dick feels so amazing, he can barely think straight.

He holds out as long as he can, wanting to stretch this out for as long as possible. She just looks so hot like this, submissively pleasing him, the bunny tail sticking out behind her, those huge tits bouncing as she moves her head back and forth. But her mouth feels way too good.

“Ah, fuck, I’m gonna cum in your mouth!”

He doesn’t feel her try to pull away, but just in case, he grips the leash and holds her in place while he fills her mouth.

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

You don’t struggle as Gojo’s warm, sticky cum shoots down your throat. This is the one sexual act you have experience with, so at least it doesn’t shock you.

Glancing up at him, you hate just how physically perfect he is. Why does this asshole have to be so beautiful? He smells wonderful, his scent almost intoxicating. Even his cum is delicious.

He uses the leash to pull you upwards, to your feet, then he rubs the top of your head, between the white fluffy ears, and says, “Good bunny!”

This is degrading. You feel like crying, and you feel deeply ashamed that you actually enjoyed sucking his cock. It even made you wet. What is wrong with you? Maybe some weak, pathetic part of you really does feel lucky that such a beautiful man is even wiling to touch you.

After the two of you clean up, Gojo says, “Let’s go get breakfast.”

“Okay. I’ll get dressed,” you reply.

He gives you a strange look. “You’re already dressed.”

You look at him with horror. “You want me to wear this?! Where other people can see?!”

“Why do you think I had you put it on?” he asks.

“But… the tail…”

“What about it?”

You squirm uncomfortably. “It’s hard to walk with this thing in.”

He grins. “Pets don’t walk around on two legs, silly Bunny.” Then he jangles the leash.

“Please don’t tell me I have to hop,” you say, exasperated.

“No, not hop. I tried that once with another bunny and she pulled a muscle. Poor thing. But you do have to crawl,” he says. Then he smiles brightly. “Suguru and Nanami will be so surprised to see you!”

“Oh God, I forgot about them! I can’t wear this out there! I look gross!” Your voice is getting more panicked. This is hell. The three hottest guys you went to school with are going to be seeing you in this skin tight outfit! You cross your arms over your chest and stomach, feeling hideous.

Gojo tilts his head as he looks you up and down. “Gross? But you look so squeezable! They’re gonna be jealous!”

There he goes, being sarcastic again. He must think this is funny. “It’s too embarrassing,” you say.

“Oh don’t worry about that!” Gojo says with a laugh. “Suguru makes his doll walk around stark naked! She doesn’t even wear socks. Now that’s embarrassing!”

“That sounds awful,” you say, reconsidering your earlier assumption that Geto would have been better.

“We have this little game we play when he gets a new doll. I pretend to harass her and try to touch her so he can swoop in and be all, ‘Don’t touch my doll!’ and make her think he’s protective.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize he’s such a manipulative person,” you tell him. The Geto you remember was a fairly nice, chill guy. Maybe he just seemed that way compared to Gojo. Not that you knew him all that well.

“Nanami lets his dolls wear whatever, but he makes them call him Daddy and he spanks them with his belt when they misbehave.”

You shudder. “Ugh, cringe.”

“I know, right?” Gojo laughs.

You snicker too, and then catch yourself. Why are you standing here talking to him like he really is an old friend?

If he notices the shift in your mood, he doesn’t let on. He’s still grinning like an idiot as he opens the door. “Okay, get on your hands and knees like a good pet.”

You sigh dejectedly and get down on the floor. This is going to be humiliating, but at least everyone here is used to Gojo and his bullshit, so they won’t be surprised. And at least you’re not totally naked.

He leads you down the hall, walking slowly to give you time to keep up with him as he holds your leash. Luckily the hallway is carpeted, so it’s relatively soft under your knees, but the tail still feels strange in your ass. You dread reaching the dining room, being seen by strangers and old classmates alike. But you don’t have a choice, so you might as well get it over with.

In the dining room, Gojo leads you past a few tables, past a few strangers who don’t even glance at you. He stops at a table where Geto is sitting with his completely nude doll. Her face is bright red.

“Look who’s here,” Gojo says, pulling up the leash so that you have to raise up slightly. “It’s Chubby Bunny! You remember her, right Suguru?”

Geto looks surprised. “Yes, I remember her,” he says, his gaze shifting from you to Gojo.

You hear Gojo calling Nanami over, and soon the blonde man is standing in front of you, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“She’s my new doll,” Gojo announces cheerfully. “Isn’t that funny?”

Nanami gives you a pitying glance. “I see. How unfortunate for you,” he says to you before walking away.

Geto and Gojo are speaking quietly to each other, and you hear Geto say, “This is a bad idea. You can’t control yourself when it comes to her and you know it.”

“It’s fine,” Gojo tells him. “I’m being professional.”

You shudder. What sort of bullying does Geto think his friend will put you through?

Gojo eventually leads you to a table and then gets food for both of you. He puts some food, steamed vegetables, in the palm of his hand and holds it out to you. “Here, eat.”

You think this is weird, but you reach out your hand to take a piece.

Gojo pulls his hand back. “No no, eat out of my hand.”

You grimace, but realize he’s not going to let this go. So you lean forward and use your tongue to scoop some food into your mouth. Gojo watches you with a pleased expression. “Don’t worry, when we’re alone in my room, you can eat whatever you want. We’ll just do it this way in the dining hall.”

So this is just about embarrassing you and making you feel low. You’re not surprised. You spend the rest of the meal eating out of Gojo’s hand, wondering when he’s going to eat anything himself. When it’s over, he leads you back to his room and hooks your leash to his nightstand again.

“I’m gonna go grab us some real food,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

With no other option, not even able to sit down with the tail in, you stand there in his room while he leaves.

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

In the kitchen, Gojo is grabbing a double armload of snacks when Geto confronts him.

“Are you out of your mind?” Geto demands, his hand on the counter. “You’re not supposed to get attached to dolls you train, and here you are training the girl you were in love with in high school!”

Gojo is clutching the snacks. “Suguru, I’m keeping her.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not. She’s everything I dreamed she would be. She’s so soft and cute and you wouldn’t believe the blowjob she gave me this morning! Her tongue is like magic!”

Geto frowns. “I’d rather not hear that kind of stuff about two of my former classmates. Anyway, keep in mind that she has the right to refuse. It’s in her contract.”

“She won’t,” Gojo says quickly. “Why would she? She admitted she liked me in high school.”

“In high school, not now. And even then it was probably only before you started bullying her.”

Gojo scoffs. “That wasn’t so bad. I just teased her.”

Geto narrows his eyes. “Satoru, you tripped her in the hallway and made her fall in front of everyone. Among many other things.”

“I tripped you and Haibara all the time! I was just joking around!”

“It’s different with girls,” Geto says. “Remember when you tripped Shoko?”

Gojo looks down with a pouty expression. “She smashed my sunglasses.”

“Yeah, and she was your friend.”

Gojo looks back up. “That all happened so long ago. I’m sure Chubby Bunny is over it by now.”

“Just try to think things through,” Geto tells him. “From her perspective, she’s now the sex slave of her former bully. This is probably a nightmare for her.”

Gojo smirks. “It didn’t seem so nightmarish when she was moaning and cumming last night.”

Geto turns around. “Alright, I’m done. Just think about what I said.”

Several days later, Gojo still hasn’t popped Chubby Bunny’s cherry. He knows she wants him to. In the heat of some of their intimate moments, she’s asked him to. He wants to literally more than anything, but he wants her to beg for it. The very thought of it makes his dick throb.

Presently, he has her spread out on his bed like a buffet. She’s wearing nothing but the collar, bunny ears, and a pair of thigh high stockings, the rest of her on display for him. She’s lying on her back, her hands tied behind her. She’s blindfolded, and her legs are spread far apart, bent up at the knees, her body partially folded.

She’s twitching as he pumps a large pink dildo in and out of her ass. He loves having her in this position, her tits jutting out and bouncing as she jerks, her pussy totally exposed and defenseless. With his free hand he runs his thumb up her slit, loving the way it glistens with her arousal. When he parts the flesh and strokes her quivering clit, her body nearly jumps off the bed. She’s so so so sensitive! Playing with her body is the most fun Gojo has ever had.

Being blindfolded, all her other senses must be heightened. She’s breathing hard as his thumb continuously rubs her delicate little nub, her mouth making the sweetest cries he’s ever heard.

“Does my cute bunny want me to fuck her tight little cunt?” he asks, still plunging the dildo into her other hole.

She nods, her body shaking like a leaf.

“Want my huge cock stuffed into this virgin pussy?”

“Y-yes!”

He keeps rubbing her clit, watching her come undone, the pleasure overtaking her. She’s at her cutest like this, so overwhelmed by stimulation that she starts crying. He can see tears leaking out beneath the blindfold.

“You’re gonna have to ask for it, Chubby Bunny,” he says, lowering his voice.

She squirms under his touch. “Please,” she whispers.

“Please… what?”

She lets out a sob. “Please… fuck me!”

He grins. “I’m already fucking you. Be more specific.”

“Please… fuck my pussy with your cock!”

He stares down at her trembling form, thinking it’s the most beautiful sight on earth. The woman he’s craved all this time is crying in his bed, begging for his cock. He has to be inside her, soon, or he just might cum in his pants.

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

You’re a complete mess. Gojo has reduced you to this. You’re lying here, shaking, tied up, totally helpless, your body being pleasured relentlessly while your heart is tormented. You don’t even know who you are anymore. The most pitiful, disgusting side of yourself has emerged, desperate for this man to fuck you.

You feel him pulling off your blindfold, and your breath hitches. You wish he’d left it on. You don’t want to look into those haunting eyes anymore. But the blindfold is gone, and you open your eyes to find his face inches from yours, looking like a heavenly being.

He’s not smirking or grinning right now. He’s staring at you, his perfect lips slightly parted, his hair messy, his cheeks slightly pink. He looks into your teary eyes and then kisses you on the lips, gently. Then he slides down, pulls the dildo out, and tosses it aside. He leans his face down, holding your slick folds open with his fingers, and begins licking your clit.

You jerk, arching your back, screaming in ecstasy. His tongue glides all over it, his saliva mixing with your arousal, making you absolutely drenched. And when you’re right on the edge of cumming, he stops and pulls back. You look at him with pleading eyes, and he gives you a kind, warm smile. It’s not the smug grin he usually wears.

“I had to make sure you’re nice and slippery,” he says. “I don’t want to hurt my Bunny.”

You know what that means. He’s finally going to fuck you for real! He scoots back onto his knees and opens his pants, hurrying to pull out his massive cock. Then he moves closer to you, pulling your legs onto his shoulders and bending you even more.

You gasp as you feel his cock begin to enter you. At first it’s going in easily, but at some point it starts to hurt. It’s not unbearable pain, but an ache that spreads from your pussy and up to your lower abdomen. And he’s still going deeper, as if he wants to fuck directly into your heart.

You squirm beneath him, and he puts a hand on your face, making you look at him, at those damned eyes. “Feel it? Feel me inside you?”

“Yes,” you squeak out. “It… it hurts… it’s too big.”

You feel him push even deeper in, and then he groans. “Fuck… I’m all the way in… so fucking tight…” Then he locks eyes with you again. “Now that I’m in, what do you want me to do?”

“Ah… f-fuck me…”

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice so lovely in your ear. “If I start fucking you now, I might wreck this poor little pussy.”

Your mind feels cloudy. You don’t care anymore. You don’t care if he hurts you. All you want, right now, is to be fucked by him. “Wreck me,” you say between ragged breaths. “Ruin me!”

You hear him inhale sharply, and his eyes seem to shimmer as he looks down at you. “I’ll ruin you,” he says huskily. And in a voice so low you can barely hear him, he adds, “Because you’re mine.”

He fucks you then, plunging in and out of you, stretching you to the limit, holding your face still with his hand to make you maintain eye contact while his other hand squeezes whatever flesh it can find. Your brain can barely process whether it hurts or feels amazing. His hard body is pressed against you, his skin creating friction against your sensitive clit as he pounds into you, flooding your senses.

You hear his voice, saying something incomprehensible. It sounds like, “You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine”. He kisses you again, devouring your mouth, and pulls back in time to watch your face as you cum, staring into your eyes. When he cums minutes later, he does so deeply inside you.

He pulls out slowly. His pretty pale cock is coated in a thin layer of sticky red blood, mixed with your cum and his. He pants for a minute, still staring at you, like he can’t take his eyes off you.

Still in his bed instead of the pet bed, you fall asleep before even cleaning up.

Over the next few days, Gojo fucks you constantly, in one hole or another. Your body is growing to crave his touch, crave the pleasure he gives you. But your heart is in turmoil.

One day, as you’re stepping out of the bathroom in your pajamas before bed, you start to feel dizzy, lightheaded. You’ve had spells of anemia for years now, and you groan as you grip Gojo’s dresser. You don’t want to faint here, in front of him. You hate showing him even more of your weaknesses. But the room is going dark, and you feel like you’re falling.

You hear Gojo’s voice. It sounds distant.

“Chubby Bunny? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Hey!”

You think you feel two strong arms wrap around you as the room goes completely black.

Tag List:

@suguguro @kaedear @onyxsphynx @poopoobuttsy @butterskyy @collectionofdolls @akaotv @witchbybirth @bloofinntoona @wasurenagusaa @tclbts @tojirin @lucyrocks86 @badbyeyoongi @97britt @aydene @lzaj19 @lyn-lotte @missthatgirl @peachedtv @ladytamayolover @nanam1nx @deegausserr @voids-universe @hinata7346 @maflorex @issracollen @xkittiecatx @ryumurin @emrys3456 @mysecretesc8pe @typicalloser3

#gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo smut #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jjk smut #x reader #gojo x you

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quinnyundertow · 5 months ago

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I may just delete this in a few hours but fuck I feel like I need a break from JJK. At least until the manga is totally finished. With Gege and his preference for twists over plot I never know where I stand. He’s brought characters back just to kill them again multiple times and honestly as stupid as it sounds this shit stresses me out. I need a final verdict on Choso, Yuta and Gojo. I have a feeling Choso and Gojo are gone for good but he never mentioned Nobara for years and she popped back up after she had a gaping hole in her head.

Everytime he brings up Gojo or Choso I get sad all over again. I want closure, I want to mourn and then I want to write fanfics where it’s not depressing anymore.

Also, something unrelated that’s really bothering me. If you don’t have anything nice to say when commenting on a fic, just don’t? I feel like indieotterxoxo was one of the best fic writers out there and she deleted everything from rude comments. I know I’ve had a massive writers block and insecurity about writing after I got some comments saying they found my recent chapters disappointing and a let down. It really hurts spending hours writing only to read stuff about how the plot is starting to suck or you don’t like the authors choices. We just write for fun when we aren’t working or going to school and dealing with real life bs. I’m not having fun anymore. I’m just stressed I’ll disappoint people.

#Quinny needs to stfu #quinnyspeaks #ignore me #jjk rant

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badbatchsprincess · 3 months ago

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Heated ~ pt.25

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18 ~ Pt.19 ~ Pt.20 ~ Pt.21 ~ Pt.22 ~ Pt.23 ~ Pt.24 ~ Pt.25

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake.

Warnings: literally 11.6k of smut. #imnotsorry Dom!Crosshair, Dom!Tech, Soft!Hunter, Dom!Hunter, Soft!Wrecker, mating rituals, about dynamics, smut smut smut, and more smut, actually filth, I need to go to repent, biting, mentions of blood, aftercare is important...Anal.... hehe.

Announcement: I'm actually so sad to be writing this, but there's only going to be one more installation after this chapter. Ahhh it's been a ride, I started writing this halfway through season three and I miss the boys everyday. I just wanted to say that I'm so thankful for everyone and this community you guys all make my day everyday. I love interacting with you all and I appreciate it so much. I will be continuing to write so please submit anything your interested in my writing about (no matter for debauched) (no shame on my page bb) I'd love to get your requests for literally anything. Anyways, enjoy my friends and I can't wait to finish up pip's journey.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Hunter held your hand as you two walked back inside the monastery. Your entire nervous system was beginning to finally settle, feeling his warm skin against your own. All you ever wanted was your alphas with you. You didn’t want to ever fight with Hunter ever again.

When you made it back to the main hall, Tech and Wrecker were waiting eagerly where you left them, only to become even more excited at seeing you reconciling with Hunter. Wrecker practically threw the table aside to pick you up again and swing you around like his Lula.

You barked feeling him squish you and you vaguely heard Tech begging him to be gentle with you. When he set you down, Tech gently brought you into his chest pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as a silent apology for earlier. It was obvious they didn’t want to fight with you either.

“Good to see you’re finally seeing things correctly.” Crosshair’s signature drawl made Hunter look up from where he stood.

Hunter scowled, “It was a lot to process all at once.” He couldn’t let his little brother challenge his ego. You had to stifle a giggle.

Crosshair scoffed before smirking and looking down at you, “Told you.”

You rolled your eyes playfully leaving the other three miffed. They had no clue as to what Crosshair was referring to.

“Y/N! Can you come here and take a look at this?” Rex called to you from the center of the room.

You trotted over to him settling to his left, “What’s up?”

“We’ve been trying to make sense of this all night but we don’t know what it means.” Rex pulled up the hard drive from the holodisk.

“It’s medical jargon and obviously that isn’t our speciality.” A Commander you didn’t recognize said from the other side of the table. He looked exhausted with sunken in eyes. His tattoos over his right eye was unfamiliar to you.

Hunter’s voice cut in, “Well you’re in luck, Pip graduated top of her class from the Coruscant school of medicine.”

You nodded feeling a little flushed at his nonchalant bragging.

You took over the controls from Rex and started reading through the reports.

The further you read, the more your eyes widened and your heart began to race from excitement.

“What is it, Y/N?” Wrecker asked noting the way your body language changed suddenly.

You shook your head, “I can’t believe it…”

Everyone stared at you.

You looked up to face Rex and the other Commanders around the table, “Nala Se gave me the instructions on how to reverse the accelerated aging in clones.”

Wrecker’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

Tech pushed up his goggles and looked over your shoulder, “You mean to tell us that there is a way to alter the genetic structure in fully developed clone specimens?”

You nodded and tilted your head up to look at your alpha, “Yeah. With this, you all could live very long healthy lives just like the nat-borns.”

Everyone took a healthy pause taking in this information. You continued reading through the research along with Nala Se’s personal notes. This was a step by step in altering their genome.

Rex then turned to look at you, “What do you need in order to do this?”

Hunter stepped forwards with a hand raised, “Wait a minute, I promised my mate she’s out of the fight. Rex, I know this is important but she’s already been through too much. I need to take her away from all of this. I have to keep her safe from the empire.”

You stood up on your tip toes, “Wait! I know what I said, but if you’re right about this green place, what if we set up the homestead there and I can work on the research and be safe. There’s no reason why Rex couldn’t come to check-in.” You looked to your alpha, “Please Hunter. I would give anything to make sure I can spend the rest of my natural lifespan with you all.”

“Is she talking about the planet in the outer rim?” Rex asked.

Hunter nodded.

Tech then looked up from his data pad, “There is ample room on the unmarked planet. We can build her a laboratory for her to conduct her research, and any of the clones who wish to live with us most certainly can. We can’t possibly be the only ones wanting to escape this war now that we have an opportunity.”

You heard a few clones in the background agree. You knew the ones mated on Naboo would be more inclined to keep their omegas safe in a secure location far from the empire’s reaches.

“It sounds like a plan to me.” Rex agreed, “Tiny, what supplies do you need to complete something like this?”

You looked to Rex and then to Tech, “It’s going to start with a trip to Bracca…”

“Seven standard rotations.” Rex confirmed setting his chronometer to align with Tech’s.

“I will send you the coordinates in a scrambled hex code once we arrive. We will be awaiting the supply vessels.” Tech looked to Rex, “And due take the time to ensure everything on that list is onboard, we will be needing construction droids if we wish to build a larger scale community assuming you’ll be bringing the refugees.” Tech rattled on about the list you had drawn up.

You tightened the jacket on one of your old uniforms as the boys loaded up the Marauder with all the supplies you’d need for the week on this new unmarked plant before Rex would be arriving.

According to Hunter it rained often there, so you made sure your GAR issued uniforms were up to par for the weather ahead.

You counted the medical supplies along with enough rations to keep you all fed.

Crosshair handed you a gun along with the side holster they had made for you all those moons ago. You slid into the leather straps and secured the belt around your waist.

“How many rotations until we get to the coordinates?” You asked Hunter.

“Two.” He kissed your cheek before grabbing another box of supplies.

“Gonk! Gonk!”

You squealed, “Gonky!”

Wrecker carried the droid from the base’s charging port onboard making sure he was fully charged to keep you all comfortable on reserve energy for the next few days.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and you spun around to be face to face with Commander Wolffe, “You better take care of those guys, alright little omega?” He smiled.

You nodded dutifully, “You’re going to be coming too right?”

He shrugged, “Unsure, I’ll meet you out there after the seven rotations to help get everything settled, but I think my fight might be with Rex. I can’t rest until I know all of our brothers are safe.”

You nodded, “Well if that’s the case, can you do something special for me?”

He raised a brow.

“There’s a medic named Kix. Rex said he went missing before the end of the war. He was my only friend for a while during my first few days with the 501st. Can you please try to find him for me?”

Wolffe nodded, “I’ll try my best.”

“Thank you.” You smiled touching his shoulder.

“You don’t get to leave without saying bye to us!” Bolt and Stunner came jogging over to tackle you with a hug.

“Me too kid.” Grim walked up throwing himself on top making you giggle.

“I thought you all were coming too!”

“We are!” Stunner stood up, “But we gotta pick up all your things first!”

“It’s only seven days!”

Bolts shook his head, “Too long kid. We’re pack now!”

“Huh?” You looked to Wolffe.

He just closed his eyes and shook his head with a sigh, “Don’t even get me started.”

“These two decided so.” Grim gestured to Bolts and Stunner, they smiled, “So naturally we all agreed.”

You felt giddy, “Well thank you, and I look forward to seeing you all very soon.”

They left you to make your way back to the Marauder to make your departure.

As you crossed the landing platform, you saw Howzer speaking with some other soldiers. You felt your stomach drop slightly anticipating a disapproving glare, but you were surprised and relived to see him give you a friendly nod. You repeated the action watching his return to him conversation, leaving you climb the rest of the stairs to the Marauder and into your old quarters.

Once inside you looked around suddenly feeling home. You breathed in the stinky air happy to feel something normal again.

“The smell came back.” Echo groused.

“I love it.” You sighed settling into your jump seat.

He looked at you horrified but opted to ignore it while getting comfortable in the co-pilot seat.

“I just finished crosscheck, we’re ready for takeoff.” Tech announced walking into the main galley.

He placed a kiss on your cheek as he passed before finding his way into the pilot’s chair.

Hunter pointed to the hatch, “Wrecker, shut the door and let’s get a move on.”

Wrecker walked to the door hitting the locking mechanism.

Crosshair came to sit next to you in the other jump seat, securing your harness before fixing his own. Once everyone was seated and secured, Tech began the take off sequence. You’ve never been more excited to hear the engines of the ship start up and that familiar rumble vibrate through the cabin.

As the Marauder pulled away from the monastery, you watched the pink Teth skies turn into deep blackness as Tech flew you all through the planet’s atmosphere.

“Almost at hyperspace cruising altitude.” He said steering the ship expertly to the hyperspace lanes. Once in place, he pushed the hyperspace lever sending the ship hurtling through the galaxy at high speed.

You all jolted at the acceleration before the ship leveled out and you were cruising smoothly through empty space.

You were giddy. For the past few hours the only thing you could think of was the green place. You hoped it was lush like Kaashyykk.

Your daydreams were taking over you didn’t even register that Hunter was talking to you.

“Mesh’la.” He said getting your attention.

You looked up with wide eyes.

Echo suddenly stood up, “I’m sure you all have a lot to catch up on,” grabbing a ration pack he headed for the back of the ship, “I gotta check something in the hyperdrive.”

You watched him leave before turning back to your alphas with a questioning look.

“Hunter asked what you were thinking about?” Crosshair repeated drawing little lines on your pant leg. You shivered as he teased his finger higher periodically.

You were starting to feel something warm and low vibrating through the bond.

You looked up to Hunter, “I was imagining what the green place looks like.”

He smiled crossing his arms facing you.

Wrecker cut in, “It’s beautiful Mesh’la, just like you!”

“Awh, Wreck.” You smiled.

“But thats not all that I, we, wanted to ask you.” Hunter looked to Tech.

You looked at him with peaked interest.

“We want to ask you how you feel about completing the bonds before we reach Zyphora.” Hunter said, his voice deepening.

You felt the heat start to grow through the bonds, they were growing more turned on by the second. You too could feel your scent glands heating and radiating your pheromones through the air.

“Y-You want to mate?” You stuttered feeling the heat in your cheeks and the hope rising in your chest.

Hunter smirked and tilted his head playfully.

You noticed Wrecker’s sweet gaze and Tech’s heady eyes boring into you that sent a shiver down your entire body.

Crosshair interjected, “Right now?”

Tech narrowed his eyes at his brother, “Problem?”

Crosshair just looked at his twin, “It might be a little overstimulating for her having all three of you bite her.” He explained.

“Why is that?” Hunter challenged. That jealousy must be a genetic trait at this point.

Crosshair petted your knee, “She was so far into subspace when it happened.” He looked at you, “Just don’t bite her all at once.”

Ever the protector.

You looked back up at him questionably, “What’s subspace?”

He smirked tugging at your lower lip with his thumb, “It means you’re so cock dumb you’re barely coherent.”

Your face flushed immediately at his lewd wording. You heard Hunter chuckle darkly.

Tech clarified, “That’s not the exact definition.”

“She gets the point.” He wet his lip looking down at yours still under his thumb.

“Is that alright with you Mesh’la?” Hunter softened his eyes getting your attention back on him, “Are you ready for that?”

You took a deep breath trying to still your now racing heart, “Are you?” You could feel the wetness starting to gather in your panties. The heat uin the bond was starting to become unbearable, the simmering turning to boiling.

He chuckled, “You’re the only one for us ad’ika.”

They nodded in agreement.

You nodded too, “Then yes. I’m ready to be mated, Hunter.”

You wish you had a recording of the look Hunter gave you. The adoration in his grey eyes made your insides flutter.

“Aw yeah!” Wrecker flew up from his seat to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder bouncing you a few times making you squeal.

“Okay, Wrek easy with her.” Hunter chastised standing up.

Crosshair stood plucking the toothpick from his mouth and pointed it at his three brothers, “So how does this work. If one of you looses it, and tries to overwhelm her with a bite, I’m stunning you.”

Tech stepped forwards, “I have a plan but we all have to agree.”

Everyone looked to the analyst, “We go in age order, just like we agreed to months ago. We haven’t all been together since Mimban, so we’ll have to remember to stay in control if this is to work. We’ll give pip enough time to recover in between so she’s not overwhelmed.” He looked to Crosshair to make sure he was in approval. Crosshair gave him a pensive nod.

“So then, Hunter first?” Wrecker asked squeezing your ass. You used your hands to perch yourself up on Wrecker’s shoulder blades to look at the others.

Crosshair still looked a little hesitant and unsure.

Hunter looked to his little brother, “Don’t worry Cross, we’ll be sweet with her.” He looked to you with a devilish smirk, “Right mesh’la?”

You fought back the whimper that threatened to escape your throat, but you couldn’t fight the pulsing in your core that nearly crumbled your resolve. Wrecker seemed to pick up on it and massaged the backs of your thighs making you even weaker under his strong hands.

“Alright, since everything is settled.” Tech gestured for Wrecker to set you down. He gave your ass a loud spank before setting you down on the ship’s durasteel floor.

You stood on wobbly feet letting Hunter steady you while Crosshair and Wrecker disappeared into the bunk to set up the mattresses again.

“C’mon Mesh’la.” Hunter placed his firm hands on your shoulders steering you into your old bunk.

When the doors slid open to find the mattresses all pushed against one another just like on Mimban, you shuddered at the memory of all of their hands on you and the feeling of being knotted over and over for days on end and the delicious delirium that accompanies those memories.

Crosshair coughed feeling the heat in his own face. He looked up at you with a playful look making you hide your own smile. He definitely saw that one through the bond.

Hunter spun you around to press a sudden kiss to your lips knocking the wind out of you. Then it was like something snapped inside you. The scents of all of your alphas in one location again was making you absolutely feral with need.

Without breaking the kiss, you started to scramble to remove Hunter’s armor, “Off,” You mumbled into his mouth reading for his shoulder latches to unclip the chest plates.

“Someone’s eager.” Crosshair chuckled starting to remove his shirt and tossed it to the side before plopping down on the mattress to watch as his other brother started stripping. The sniper placed his blaster to the side with the switch set to stun just incase.

Piece after piece began to fall to the ground in disgruntled piles as you continues to make out with Hunter practically tearing his clothing off. As much as you loved that teal henley you wanted to tear the offending thing to shreds.

Tech dimmed the lights inside the bunk as you pulled on his shirt revealing Hunter’s beautiful tanned and tattooed chest. You broke away to admire your sergeant as he pulled the fabric the rest of the way over his head before tossing into the pile with Crosshair’s. You audibly sighed before launching forwards to run your hands greedily over his entire smooth chest feeling every ridge of sinew muscle.

Hunter started on his burgundy wrist wraps removing the material seductively slow, while your hands traveled south to start working on his leather holsters.

“You all wear too much clothing.” You growled unclasping the weapons and letting them fall to the ground.

They all chuckled at that knowing you were telling the truth.

Then you attacked the closure of his pants. You remembered buying him these pants on Ord Mantell. You bought them because they made his ass look fantastic. You pulled the khaki colored fabric down revealing his black under clothes and the hardened length begging to be freed.

You didn’t hesitate yanking them down to reveal his rock hard cock making both of you groan as you firmly grasped him and began pumping slowly to relieve the pressure you knew he must have been feeling.

Then you felt hands on your back making their way down to your waist and you knew it was Tech from the feel of his fingers.

First he peeled off your jacket forcing you to release Hunter making you whine as Hunter then moved to dispose of the remaining pants and boots situation.

“I get to warm you up, little one.” Tech whispered in your ear making you shudder.

He pulled at your shirt throwing it into the pile before he saddled up behind you and began removing your holster and pants too. His sensual hands traveled down your thigh and belly to release the clasp holding the leather around your leg before slipping the rest of the material from your waist.

The other hand undid your pant button before pulling down the zipper frustratingly slow. Then his lithe fingers slid underneath the waist hand of your panties tracing small lines into your skin but not hitting the spot you really wanted him to go. Such a tease.

You squirmed into him, feeling the hardness of his cock underneath his boxers as well.

Tech then used his hands to yank down your pants while Hunter pulled off your boots one by one. Together hey liberated you from the rest of your clothes except your little panties.

Crosshair gave a satisfied groan as he settled into the mattress having to readjust his own cargos to be more comfortable, “Take it off Tech!” He drawled from the side.

Your hands went behind you to rest against Tech’s thighs as his hands went to the thin waist band of the barely there material.

You looked up to see Hunter’s hungry stare along with Wrecker’s, watching you from the center of the room.

You struggled to breathe as Tech’s skilled fingers looped inside the band teasing everyone slightly by tugging on it playfully.

“Tech!” You whined feeling the material teasing your frustrated clit making you pant.

“Rip it off.” Hunter ordered with a husky voice that made you drip between your thighs.

Tech leaned forwards and bent down to nuzzle your ear, “Yes, sarge.”

In a flash, your panties were snapped in two as the offending material remained in Tech’s hands, “For Cross.” He tossed them at his twin who happily snatched them out of the air to keep with a sexy smile.

Kark.

That kriffing panty snatcher.

You felt like you were going to faint if someone didn’t make you come soon.

“Go to your alpha.” Tech smacked your butt, urging you forwards.

You scrambled forwards not trusting your legs to hold you up as you practically threw yourself at Hunter. He happily brought you into his arms straddling you over his thin waist.

He snaked his fingers through your hair and gripped the base tilting your head up for him to kiss again as you felt Tech settle in behind you pressing his sturdy weight onto your ass.

“And I thought we’d need the lube.” Tech ran a finger up your folds making you squeal into Hunter’s mouth, “But our little omega is already soaked.” He settled into rubbing your clit which had you arching your back deeper into Hunter’s chest.

“Fuck.” Crosshair bit out flopping onto his back with his arm thrown over his eyes.

You all turned to look at him as he seemed to be feeling what you were feeling through the mate bond.

“Interesting.” Tech said experimenting with various pressures to see the way you and Crosshair mirrored each other.

“He can feel that through their mate bond?” Wrecker asked

“It would appear so.” Tech analyzed while slipping a finger inside your sloppy hole making Crosshair thrust into the air.

You mewled pushing your hips back into Tech while scooting backwards just enough to reach for Hunter’s boxers. You pulled down his waist band and leaned forwards to lick his tip making him buck and lean back to give you room. You worked down the fabric just a bit further so you could wrap your lips around his length before sinking down on him taking him inside your waiting mouth.

“Fuck ‘mega.” Hunter growled fisting your hair to guide you along his length.

Tech continued his ministrations adding a second finger before adding a third.

“Good girl.” He began scissoring his fingers to open you up.

You bobbed your head against Hunter taking him as deep as you could possibly go without choking.

“Atta girl.” He praised rubbing your cheek feeling himself inside your mouth. You fluttered around Tech making the pilot scoff, “She likes that.”

“Likes what?” Hunter asked with a teasing smirk and a head tilt.

“A praise from her Sarge.” Crosshair gruffed trying to keep himself under control despite feeling your pleasure radiating through your shared bond.

You squeezed Tech’s fingers again as he pulled out to your dismay.

You and Crosshair took a deep breath feeling the pleasure dissipate and your bodies calm once again. You kept Hunter in your mouth until he decided he couldn’t wait any longer to claim you despite how good your heavenly mouth feels on him.

Sitting up, Hunter pulled your greedy mouth away from his length before shifting you both around, until he had you pinned beneath him. You whined craving something in your mouth while Hunter spread your legs.

Crosshair grumbled, “She wants your cock in her mouth.”

You looked at him shocked that he would know that. He just looked smug in return. The damn bond…

“Later, omega.” Hunter replied grabbing your chin and redirecting you to look at him, “Promised I’d be sweet with you, little one…You ready Mesh’la?” He asked lining himself up with your swollen and clenching core.

“Yes alpha.” You nodded eagerly making him smile.

He surged forwards slowly entering you with a slight stretch. Hunter was thick and you cried out as he bottomed out inside you. He bent forwards until he was leaning over you on his elbows caging you in under his firm muscular body, totally encircling you with his warmth.

“Gonna make you mine ‘mega.” He grumbled into your skin.

You clung onto his biceps as he began a slow a gentle pace getting you warmed up to being fucked faster.

You cried out feeling him drag along your needy walls feeling every ridge and bump of him as he started to pick up the pace.

When he felt your cunt relax and finally adjust to his size, he sat up placing a hand on your belly as he thrusted quicker. You bounced on his cock and reached up to run your hands over his abs and tattoo loving the way his muscles flexed in order to fuck you. Hunter was so hot it made your mind turn to mush.

You loved his possessive hand on your belly, you could feel him rubbing even more intently inside you as he applied that delicious pressure.

Your cries and moans filled the room as the two of you brought one another true pleasure… but something was missing.

You cracked your eyes open to see the way Crosshair leaned against the wall stroking himself trying to breathe through the sensations he was receiving. He locked eyes with you feeling your desires morph into something darker.

Then you looked to Tech who leaned a shoulder against the wall next to Crosshair. He watched you with hawk eyes behind his goggles showing off his height and sinew muscles.

You clenched around Hunter clawing at his abdomen making his growl and lean forwards to tend to you. You stuck out your neck and mewled just like you did with Crosshair trying to tempt him into biting you. The omega in you was beginning to beg to be claimed. You were starting to need it more than oxygen. You wanted Hunter to take you. Make true on his promise, and claim you. Make you his.

He nuzzled the spot where he planned to sink his teeth in, teasing you. You whined and wrapped your arms around his neck to claw at his back trying to portray your desperation for him.

“Please alpha!” You whimpered pushing your neck into his mouth.

He ignored you and continued to thrust rocking the two of you closer to completion, but you wanted more… You needed the hunter… The wildness only Hunter could channel.

A new rebellious streak you didn’t entirely recognize with Hunter seemed to itching its way up your neck.

Bratting was only something you did with Crosshair and Tech, but you couldn’t seem to help yourself.

You huffed locking your legs around his waist to urge him to be rougher with you, but it wasn’t working. He was too responsible and he had promised Crosshair to be gentle… kark.

You looked to Crosshair who shot you a challenging look. He raised a brow almost daring you to do something bad.

You looked back to Hunter forcing him to look down at you. You brought your hand up to his cheek looking deeply into his eyes with affection. They were soft and full of love, but you ached to see that darker side of him you hadn’t seen since Mimban.

It was becoming a need not a want. You wanted him to let go of his control.

With a devilish smirk on your lip, he looked down at you almost confused, before the hand on his cheek went to his neck and you roughly flipped the two of you over with a thump.

You pinned him by his neck before you started riding him with no abandon. Leaning down, you snagged his mating gland between your fangs making him snap at your attempt at dominating him.

With a snarl, he ripped you off of him and threw you to the side before he flipped you onto your stomach where he barely pulled up your ass to mount you again. You felt the air press out of you from his weight and the slide of his cock punching inside you again.

“Alpha!” You cried out taking his brutal thrusts with a satisfied shit eating grin on your face.

“What a bad girl.” Crosshair chided with a smirk. You looked up at him.

He just smirked and looked to Hunter, “Poor Sarge was trying to be sweet with you little girl, and this is how you thank him?”

Tech raised a brow and crossed his arms, “Look at her. Smiling and all after being so ungrateful.”

“Brat.” Crosshair watched his eldest brother absolutely fuck you into the mattress.

“Brat.” Tech repeated in confirmation.

Kark.

The look on their faces told you they were conspiring. You were karked.

Hunter however, leaned down to fist your hair and wrench your head up almost painfully, “Is that right Mesh’la? You want me to be rough with you? Fuck you like a disobedient little whore?”

“Fuck!” You moaned at his lewd words. You felt yourself get even more wet making the squelching sound take over the room as Hunter abused your cunt.

“Seems like she likes being fucked like a whore.” Tech smirked pushing up his glasses.

“Ahh!” You held onto the sheets for dear life, but Hunter grabbed both of your wrists and locked them behind your back in his firm fist and pulled you up so you were ass up as he pounded into you at a ridiculously hard pace. The sound of his muscular thighs slapping against your own was making your brain short circuit.

“Ahh! Hunter!” You cried into the mattress feeling the uncontrollable drool start to wet the mattress under your face as you bit the sheets.

“Now I see why Crosshair mated you.” Hunter snarled into the back of your neck, “Just can’t control yourself can you?”

“Please Hunter!” You begged, you could feel yourself nearing the precipice but you just needed that last little bit of stimulation to get you there.

“Tell him what you want, omega.” Tech ordered.

You whimpered before turning your head to look at Hunter from the corner of your eye, “Please touch me alpha, please!”

“I don’t think she deserves to cum.” Crosshair crossed his arms now standing next to his twin.

You whipped your head around to look at him with pleading eyes.

“Please!” You cried out, “I’ll be good I promise! I’m sorry!”

“You’ll behave for Tech and Wrecker?” Crosshair raised a skeptical brow.

You nodded your head vigorously hoping they’d take mercy on you.

“Fuck I can smell you getting wetter mesh’la.” Hunter growled out pushing his nose into your hair and inhaling your scent like a fucking animal. He reached down sliding his fingers between your thighs, finding your clit and rubbing small precise circles. Hunter nearly choked when you clamped down on his throbbing cock with a vice like grip.

“Swear you’ll behave little one.” Crosshair reminded you.

“I swear!” You cried out rutting into Hunter’s touch.

Crosshair hummed and you were lost in Hunter’s presence again. Back before the events on Mimban, you had often fantasized about Hunter chasing you down in the woods. It was one of your favorite little late night fantasies. Letting him unleash his true wild side and have his way with you like a little prey animal caught in the predator’s jaws. It always made you cum on your fingers without much effort.

You could feel Hunter slip into his alpha side as he yanked you up further and kicked your knees apart forcing you to spread and arch for him even more. He put you into the most submissive position for an omega, making you nearly cum on the spot. Fuck he was rough when he wanted to be.

“Hunter!” You yelped as he used his free hand to push your neck down into the mattress and holding you there as he stroked you impossibly deep with his throbbing cock like he was trying to breed you. You were certain he was reaching your cervix making you squirm.

He growled and bent forwards snagging your unmarked shoulder gland with his fangs before leaning forwards and sinking his teeth in making you both groan. When the skin broke and the alpha’s venom began to seep in, your entire body spasmed with an explosive orgasm before going entirely lax under Hunter as the bond snapped into place with a blinding fire sensation. It wasn’t the same as bring under the influence of the SRA, but damn, did it feel like heaven. You were certain your ears were ringing as your body thrummed.

The sergeant collapsed on top of you, blood dripping down his chin, still throbbing inside you as he pumped his cum deep inside your walls.

You both sagged into the mattress still connected together trying to find yourselves. You purred as he pulled you into his chest wrapping a protective arm around you.

Crosshair smiled seeing his brother happy, and feeling the contentment of another piece of your soul righting it self between the two of you.

Wrecker grabbed a nearby blanket and draped it over the two of you as you both returned from the bliss of post-mating. Hunter’s chest raised and lowered aggressively being sedated by his orgasm finally. His wildness, for now, had tampered down.

Tech knelt over you both grabbing his pen light to flash it into your eyes to check for responsiveness. When he was satisfied you were still conscious, just swimming in post fucking endorphins. He settled back with Crosshair waiting for you both to become coherent again.

“I told you, it sends you to subspace.” Crosshair said watching Hunter come back first, blinking rapidly trying to understand the new sensations swirling inside him. Crosshair could feel the delirium, dulled, but still present in you. He watched you carefully curled into Hunter’s side trying to regain your normal breathing.

“It’s the alpha venom and mate bond.” Tech info dumped, “The chemicals Hunter released into her blood stream makes her docile. It’s an evolutionary response, so the omega is too tired to leave the alpha and the alpha is too tired to leave the seeded omega. It’s to ensure impregnation to further the species.” Tech nodded, “And to ensure she’s pregnant.”

Crosshair looked at his twin wondering how in the hells he remembers all this stuff.

You wriggled around making a cooing noise forcing Hunter to lean over to tend to you. He ran his fingers over your flushed cheek with a soft smile giving you soothing little pecks and touches.

“What’s she doing?” Wrecker asked watching you get fussy again under Hunter.

“She needs to complete the bond.” Tech said, “It’s her instincts making her restless.”

Hunter heard his brother, and flopped onto his back pulling you on top of him. You straddled him and leaned forwards mouthing at the same place you teased him before. This time, he tilted his head to the side allowing you to have access to one of the most vulnerable parts on his person. You licked a stripe up the gland gathering his scent in your nose before pressing your incisors to the sun kissed skin and biting down harshly like a little rancor.

You broke skin and he couldn’t help but yelp as you licked and sucked at the wound cooing quietly. He nearly had to pull you off, before he too felt a sense of utter exhaustion as the sensation spread through his overstimulated body. He cursed quietly settling into the blankets.

“And that would be the omega venom making him too tired to leave the seeded omega.” Tech watched diligently, “Fascinating.”

You wriggled on top of Hunter softly grinding against his thick thigh as he rubbed your hip soothingly as you both came down from the mating high.

“Ad’ika, how are you feeling?” Crosshair checked in with you.

You sat up groggily looking at your other mate, “I’m feeling good Cross.” You smiled looking a little loopy. He could sense the endorphins in your system and looked to Tech, “I think she’s alright to continue.”

“Good.” Tech bent down to the mattress and grabs your ankle to yank you down to him and off of his older brother.

You squealed as you slid towards the other twin.

Hunter just lay still feeling lethargic as the mating bond sealed in place in his body, taking over his entire nervous system momentarily. Crosshair watched him for a moment recognizing the feeling. Hunter groaned and covered his eyes with his forearm letting the sensations take over.

“Because someone’s been very, very naughty.” Tech knelt down between your ruined legs spreading your legs to cage in his hips. You whined feeling his calloused hands make their way up your thighs, then your ribs, then finally one squeezed your tit while the other wrapped around your neck and she applied enough pressure to make you moan.

You squirmed under your other alpha, enjoying Tech’s calculated roughness.

“Egging Hunter on until he turned feral on you,” Tech clicked his tongue disapprovingly, “When he was trying to be so gentle with you.”

You whimpered looking up at Tech. He ran a tongue over his left fang looking down at you with a hunger you had never seen before. You itched with greed to feel it pierce your skin again.

With a moment of contemplation, he released you and sat up, “Present, omega.”

Stunned, you stared up at him owlishly. He wants you to… present? You felt a rush of heat throughout your entire body.

You whined baring your neck submitting to him, hoping he’d accept that…

But this was Tech, he just raised a brow and crossed his arms waiting for you to behave properly.

You sat up and flipped over onto your hands and knees before lowing your head to the mattress showing off your cum covered pussy to him. You widened your knees and arched as prettily as possible hearing Crosshair let out a low whistle from the side.

Wrecker groaned, “That was hot.”

You felt your cheeks redden again the longer Tech took to move. You felt extremely exposed, but also extremely turned on.

His silence was making you anxious as you tried your hardest to hold still for him. But you couldn’t hold back the anticipatory shakes that started to settle into your system begging for him to do something soon. You were about to beg for anything, even just a touch. You needed Tech in a way you had never needed him before.

Never had you presented for an alpha… ever… The instincts in you told you to arch as far as possible to meet his approval, but that wasn’t necessary. Tech finally reached forwards trailing a knuckle through your dripping entrance making you nearly spasm from sensitivity.

He tutted behind you, before stroking your clit making you jump in his grasp, “I’m going to let Wrecker have his turn and you’re going to be very, very good for him omega.” He teased your hole with the tip of his finger making you bite your tongue, “Then you’re mine to have my way with, little one… Someone needs to teach you manners.”

You swallowed nervously making Crosshair chuckle, “She understands.”

“I thought it was your turn, Tech.” Hunter groaned sitting up on his elbows to find you bent over at his feet and he looked down the slope of your back.

“I want to take my time with her.” He stood up leaving you arched and alone on the mattress, “Go on, Wrecker.”

You squeaked feeling his massive hands encapsulate you and pluck you up from the mattress before tossing you in front of him. You bounced a few times on the mattress before he rolled you onto your back positioning you how he wished.

You looked up at him with pleading eyes.

“On your back, like a good little omega.” Crosshair sneered crossing his arms to face his twin.

“Make Wrecker cum and we’ll lessen your punishment for being a brat.” Tech instructed.

You nodded eagerly, not wanting to disappoint them. You were also a little terrified of the two of them being together again. The had edged you so many times on Mimabn you had broken down in tears when they finally let you cum. You really didn’t want to go through that again any time soon.

“Don’t worry ‘mega.” Wrecker smiled, “I’ll take care of you.” He must have sensed your trepidation.

“I know, alpha.” You smiled grasping onto his massive biceps with a giddy smile.

Tech snorted from the other side of the room. He really doubted that you could override your omega instincts and behave. When you looked up at them, you gasped. Tech turned to face Crosshair obviously discussing your punishment sending a shiver down your spine.

You felt Wrecker chuckling above you before he grabbed your left wrist. He brought it up between the two of you, “I’m going to mark you here ‘mega. Is that alright?” He thumbed your glad making you shiver with lust and effectively distracted you from his conniving brothers.

You nodded, “Should I bite your left, or your right, alpha?” You asked watching his thumb slide against your skin, “Should we match?”

“Yeah baby, Let’s match.” He smiled down at you.

You shimmied under him trying to make his hips flushed with yours. His heavy cock swung back and forth between you before he settled it against your belly, hot and thick. You gasped seeing how far it would be inside you from this position, reaching your bellybutton, butterflies fluttered through your entire body realizing how much you’d have to stretch to take him.

“Are you stretched enough, pip?” He asked rutting his thick cock through your slippery folds teasing you with little bits of stimulation.

“Yes, alpha.” You answered sweetly.

“Are you sure?” He looked down for a moment, “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You spread your legs as far as possible and brought your knees up and grabbed the back of your knees, “I promise, alpha.”

“Atta girl.” He angles himself to push his fat tip to your dripping hole. He rubbed it back and forth gathering the remaining cum Hunter had pumped you full of before pushing forwards and filling you with his hot and thick cock.

Hunter’s cum squelched out the sides as Wrecker filled you to the absolute brim.

You cried out making the others turn to watch as Wrecker made a couple small experimental thrusts.

You held onto him for dear life abandoning the grip on your knees to dig your nails into his arms as he stretched you to your limits. Fuck it has been a while since you’ve done this with him.

He felt like a knot just like this, it made you shudder like a leaf beneath him.

He reached down running his thumb between your legs to rub your clit slowly making your cries turn into sweet mewls as pleasure surged through you both.

Both Hunter and Crosshair groaned feeling the bond and they watched you closely as Wrecker very carefully, fucked you to another orgasm.

“Make him cum, Omega.” Crosshair tutted from the corner.

You whined looking up at your two alphas for approval. The twins both cross-armed, mirroring one another, as they discussed you with straight faces.

You looked back to Wrecker who smiled down at you. His weight on top of you felt delicious. You ran your hands over your belly feeling him rocking inside of you before you trailed them up his sides and back. You traced over some of his old battle scars before reaching his neck. You tickled your nails over his mating gland making him twitch inside you with a shudder.

“Fuck, pretty girl.” He murmured into your collarbones.

You bit your lip before wrapping your hands around his head giving him the hint you wanted him to kiss you.

He did.

When he pressed his lips to yours, you deepened it, sliding his tongue against your own in a wet messy kiss.

He huffed into your mouth and whimpered feeling his orgasm approach. You felt the changes and clenched down as best as you could fighting off your own climax to obey Tech and Crosshair to the best of your ability.

When Wrecker was finally feeling himself fall over the edge, he grabbed your left wrist and brought it to his mouth where you felt his incisions pinch the skin. You did the same grabbing his arm and brought it to your mouth before he growled and stilled inside you before sinking down into your flesh.

You howled throwing your head back and arched aggressively into Wrecker’s chest when you came violently from the mating bite. His thickness making you squirt all over the place and his cock. He moaned in satisfaction loving that he always got that reaction from you.

It was his favorite.

When you both finally came down, he flopped to the side, sliding out of you with a squelch before he could crush you. You laid there closing your eyes feeling absolutely boneless as the world began to slip away into a hazey cozy mist.

You barely registered Hunter’s arms under you sliding you over the mattress and Tech checking your vitals with your kit scanner. You just felt fuzzy and warm inside, hearing Tech mumble something about the mating venom again.

You hummed and curled into Hunter’s chest rubbing your face into his scent searching for the comfort of your alpha.

You felt something being pressed to your lips and you fluttered your eyes open to see Crosshair holding your tooka mug to your mouth urging you to drink with his slightly anxious expression.

When you finally responded to them, you were showered with a series of praises and good girl’s. Then you faded back into the bliss.

“She needs rest.” Hunter rumbled rubbing your skin and covering the both of you in a blanket.

“Is she okay?” Wrecker’s concern was evident. He was trying his best to fight against his own drowsiness.

“She’s okay.” Crosshair explained, “Just probably a lot of toxins in her blood. She’ll need a bit to go back to normal. I can feel her through the bond.”

“Wrecker may have had a larger dose given his size and their size difference.” Tech reasoned, “She’s very docile.” He was right, you were floppy. Similar to when Crosshair gave you too much pain numbing on Mimban. Hunter could feel how relaxed your muscles were under his own.

“She looks how she did during her heat.” Hunter soothed you with gentle touches, watching you purr and gently respond to his fingers on your skin. You would preen quietly before trying to mouth at his skin.

“Let’s give her a few minutes and flush her system.” Tech decided letting Hunter cradle you, “I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

You felt so safe and snuggled up against Hunter’s warm chest. He breathed smoothly as he and the others had drifted off to sleep for a quick cat nap.

You had awakened a little later still feeling blissed out from the two mating bites.

As you felt yourself starting to return to normal, you couldn’t help but trace the dark lines on Hunter’s pectorals. Alpha was so strong. You admired the hardness of his battle conditioned body and the spicy scent radiating from his skin. He reminded you of the sun.

You couldn’t help yourself, you leaned forwards licking a stripe up his collarbone to his neck. Your alpha stirred in his sleep snuggling you closer with his warm arms. You purred and repeated the action licking over his pec, trying to get his scent further in your nose.

“Mmm mesh’la.” His voice was even more gruff as you woke him.

He kept his eyes closed, sighing as you continued to press heated kisses to his skin.

You heard Crosshair and Wrecker stir on the mattresses beside you, no doubt sensing you both through the bonds.

When you poked your head up from the blanket cocoon Hunter had you wrapped in, you noticed Tech reclined leisurely, sitting with his data pad, reading something casually with his sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips. You felt your blood start to heat and your core begin to stir the longer you looked at your tall alpha. His sharp hip bones and v-lines accentuated by the light of his screen made you lick your lips.

His skin was taut around his lean muscles just like Crosshair and it was making you swoon. The star map charts tattooed all over his right shoulder and ribs was beginning to make you pant. Gods he was beautiful. All your alphas are, but Tech is unique in his sharpened beauty.

Hunter shuffled under you, running his nose through your hair before sitting up slightly to lean against a pile of your neatly folded nesting blankets propping you both up.

“What’s got you all flustered, sweetheart?” He whispered in your ear.

He looked in the direction he had caught you staring and smirked, “Oh, is it Tech?”

Tech stopped typing on his data pad for just a moment seeming to be responding to his name, but he didn’t look over. He then continued on like nothing was amiss.

You nodded before rubbing your nose affectionately against Hunter’s cheek.

The sergeant situated you so your back was pressed to his front. He kept the blanket around you two and you let your head lull into the base of his neck.

Tech then stretched a bit, flexing his abs while he reached above him. Then he tilted his neck from side to side cracking his bones. You began to pant seeing his glands just right there in front of you just begging for you to lick and touch. You swallowed thickly.

Hunter chuckled quietly, “Poor little omega, three alphas not enough for you Ori’Sol?”

You sucked in a breath as his hand slid over your ribs and down your belly, parting your leg and swinging it over his own knee keeping you spread open for him.

“I wonder how he’s going to take you, little one.” Hunter whispered in your ear trailing his finger tips teasingly back down your leg to your core. He briefly dipped into your hole making you squirm as his fingers then found your clit and he began rubbing slow steady circles, “Think, he’ll take you on your back? Just like Wrek? Or make you present for him again. Keep it traditional?”

You moaned quietly getting flustered at Hunter’s words. You tucked your head further into him feeling your cheeks turn a ruby hue.

“Yeah, you liked that huh?” Hunter nibbled your ear making your skin break out in goosebumps, “You like when we’re dominant with you? Put you in your place mesh’la?”

You nodded feeling his fingers apply a little more pressure making you bite your lip to not make a sound.

You started to squirm, clenching around nothing, making Hunter inhale, “I can smell your close little one.” He smirked and licked at his mating mark on your neck making you jolt, “Wanna get you nice and ready to take Tech, you’re going to need it sweet thing.” You shuddered feeling the pleasure begin to precipice.

“Fuck, I heard what he and Cross have in store for you baby, I can’t wait to see you.”

You whined baring down on his hand canting your hips.

“Hmm. Little thing can’t seem to get enough, huh?” Crosshair’s raspy sleep ridden voice made you clench and arch against Hunter’s chest.

“What a greedy girl.” He chided slipping around to your front where he peeled your blanket off exposing you to his greedy eyes.

He hummed in approval before reaching forwards to trace the opening of your dripping cunt. He surged forwards pushing two fingers inside you while Hunter still rubbed your clit steadily. You yelped as Crosshair set similar pace bringing you to completion.

You strained against Hunter’s thighs, but he out muscled you, keeping you pried open as the touches were becoming more and more overstimulating by the second.

“Look here, pretty girl.” Wrecker’s voice and touch surprised you, as he dragged your chin over to face him. He leaned forwards bringing you into a searing kiss that threw you over the cliff into a numbing orgasm.

Your voice cracked as you moaned out and shuddered in Hunter’s lap.

“Good girl.” Hunter praised, “Such a good girl for us.”

He kept his slow touches as the other two withdraw making you twitch and spasm in his lap as you heard Tech finally rise and set down his data pad.

You struggled to keep your eyes open despite the overstimulating touches that Hunter continued to make not wanting to miss a second of Tech’s mating. You watched as Tech nodded to Crosshair who disappeared from the room while Tech made his way over to you.

He bent one knee to get on your level before he grasped your chin in his fingers, “Are you going to be a good girl, Y/N?”

You swore your heart skipped a beat. You nodded.

“Use your words.” Tech replied.

You swallowed thickly trying to find your voice, “Yes, alpha.”

“Good.” Tech released you and moved to shed his sweats from his body. He was bare underneath sending a fresh wave of slick to your core. Hunter relished in the squelching wetness as he began to finger you now just like Crosshair had.

“Is she ready?” Tech asked Hunter who just smirked and responded with a yup.

Tech settled on the mattress leaning back on his hands. He gestured for you to come, which you obeyed immediately. Hunter released you and you crawled on your hands and knees over to your waiting alpha.

“I want you to ride me, omega.” He said and you licked your lips looking at his hard and dripping cock. You so badly wanted him in your mouth, to taste his precum, but you knew better than to push him anymore.

You looked at him pleadingly, “Yes, sir.”

You heard Hunter and Wrecker move across the room where they reclined against the spare blankets and pillows watching as Tech maneuvered you over him. You reached down grasping his firm length and brought it to your core where you wiggled down until he was breaching your entrance. You bit back a groan as he took hold of your hips and guided you down onto him fully.

You mewled at the stretch finding him just as long as Crosshair as he nudged your cervix.

“Go on, ad’ika.” He urged and you happily started your bouncing. Placing your hands on his tanned pecs, you felt his taut skin under your own, making you impossibly hotter. He ran a hand up to your neck where he grasped you and dragged you down closer to press a kiss to your lips.

You hungrily returned the gesture letting him slip his tongue inside your mouth and explore.

The door to the room whooshed open and Crosshair returned making you giddy that he was going to be watching you ride Tech too. You adored the way his sharp eyes took in every detail about you, it was exhilarating.

He seemed to sense this through the bond and smiled at you mischievously. You turned to look at him with a raised brow before Tech snatched your attention back by your chin.

“Focus, omega.”

You doubled down not watching to displease him and continued to bounce up and down. He slid a hand up between your breasts before settling on the right one and squeezing. He teased your nipple with his thumb making you stutter in your actions just slightly before resuming your pace.

His hand then continued back up to your neck where he grasped you firmly, “Come here.” He guided you down to press your chest against his, as his other hand wrapped around your back stilling your movements firmly.

Tech then began to thrust upwards making you moan into his skin and claw at his chest as he drove impossibly deep inside you from below.

“You may begin, Cross.” Tech said making you want to whip your head around to look, but he kept you pinned. Tech slowed his movements down to a very, very shallow thrust that had you itching for more and anxious to see what Crosshair was up to behind your field of vision.

Then from somewhere behind you, you heard a click and a gooey squirt noise before you felt the mattress dip behind you.

Then a cold finger pressed up against your ass making you squirm away against Tech.

“Relax, omega.” Crosshair cooed squirting more gel onto your ass making you cry out.

Oh fuck.

You couldn’t believe this.

Was this…

Kark.

Crosshair was going to fuck your ass…

Kriff.

You stilled nearly entirely as he began to massage the tight ring of muscle protesting against the new intrusion.

“I can feel you clenching, relax little one.” Crosshair gently corrected.

“Tech?” Your voice raised in worry.

He just looked up at you, “Do what Crosshair says, and you’ll be alright sweet thing. He’ll make sure you feel really, really good.” Clearly you weren’t getting out of this one.

You looked to Hunter and Wrecker for assurance. Hunter gave you a reassuring nod and Wrecker looked mesmerized at the site in front of him like it was nasty holoporn. But this was real, Crosshair and Tech were going to fucking you at the same time, and in the ass.

Fuck. This was the punishment for trying to mess with Hunter. You flustered at how excited Hunter had sounded earlier. He was waiting to watch this, and you could feel it through the bond. He too was glued to the sight in front of him.

You took a deep anxious breath before willing yourself to relax. Tech’s continuous thrusts helped a bit as Crosshair breached your hole gently with his trigger finger just gently testing you.

You bit down on your own hand feeling the foreign stretch. It was like nothing you had ever felt before. It was a mix of pain and pleasure that had you vibrating in Tech’s hold as he kept up his rocking pace.

You were recalling Crosshair’s promise to you back on that base in Naboo. Clearly he hadn’t forgotten, and neither had you. Crosshair wanted to claim something else of yours tonight too, and now you knew what that would be…

“Good girl, keep breathing.” The sniper praised using his other hand to massage the flesh of your ass, spreading you even wider.

“I can feel you inside her.” Tech narrated and thrusted a little harder. His words had you moaning and producing slick like you were in heat at the thought of Tech’s cock feeing Crosshair massaging your insides.

Crosshair added a second finger making you arch your back and groan. The feeling was so strange, but you didn’t want him to stop no matter now intense.

He began to scissor his fingers stretching you even further before adding a third making you cry out again.

Fuck it felt big, even though it wasn’t even his cock yet. You swore under your breath knowing that was going to be even bigger.

Something was communicated between the twins because Tech then moved to gather both of your wrists together in his hand as Crosshair shuffled behind you. Another sound of the lube squirting from the bottle had you trembling as Crosshair applied a heaping amount to himself before squirting more onto your puffed up hole. You whimpered again feeling the cold before it was replaced with the searing heat of his cock tip.

His tip rubbed up against the relaxed entrance making you suck in a deep breath. The anticipation was absolutely killing you.

“Take him, pip.” Tech ordered looking down at you as he pinned you to him.

Crosshair surged forwards sliding inside and breaching your entrance, effectively taking your anal virginity.

You cried out and hissed as he pushed forwards wanting to metaphorically rip the bandage off and get the worst of it over with.

Fuck he’s big.

And fuck it was a damn stretch.

Your voice cracked again as he sunk in even deeper making Tech have to wrangle you a bit to keep you flat and relaxed and your ass on display for his twin.

“Fuck you’re tight mesh’la.” Crosshair groaned placing both hands on your hips to grip you.

You felt Tech’s free hand slither between your legs to rub at your clit sending delicious pleasure through your body as Crosshair finally sunk in to the hilt.

All three of you took a deep breath at the sensation of finally all being together. You could only imagine what your mated alphas were feeling through the bond as you adjusted to the new sensation of double penetration.

“She’s even tighter like this.” Tech kept rubbing you until your hips began to grind against both of them.

“So beautiful Y/N,” Crosshair’s hand ran against your spine making you preen into their touch, “I told you this would be mine.” He leaned forwards tapping your ass cheek, and teasing his mark on your neck with his teeth making you shudder.

Tech and Crosshair gave you a moment to get used to them both being inside you at the same time, before they both began to test out their experimental thrusts.

You moaned feeling the two of them moving at their own pace inside you. It was a sensation you couldn’t even have imagined without experiencing it first hand. You felt unbelievably full. A fullness you couldn’t describe. It was glorious and actual omega’s wet dream.

You mewled as Tech resumed his more aggressive pace while Crosshair slowly began to match up with his twin’s. Where ever they might be, the battle field for the bedroom, they always managed to fall in line and work together as a team.

Once he was certain you were alright, Crosshair kept pace with Tech making you nearly scream with pleasure as they fucked you full.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned out into the room struggling against Tech’s grip as pleasure over took your senses.

Having two cocks inside you felt like heaven. You couldn’t imagine ever not feeling this full again. Something triggered the most deepest parts of your omega brain at the sensation and you felt yourself absolutely submit to them, letting them have their way with you.

You felt boneless in their grasp. You didn’t even move when Tech released you to grab at your waist to thrust harder into you.

“Such a good girl,” He moaned into your ear and you purred in response letting him fuck up into you, “letting Cross have your ass like a perfect obedient little omega.”

Crosshair slid his hand up your spice again before dragging his fingers into your scalp. You felt his grip the base of your strands before pulling you up to be flush against his chest. You cried out at the change of angles feeling them even more viscerally inside you. You pawed at the air before gripping onto Crosshair’s arms as he held you up to fuck you harder.

“Hmm,” Hunter smirked from the side where he watched, “I think she like’s being fucked in the ass. Isn’t that right sweetheart?”

You moaned but Crosshair wasn’t having it. He used his grip on your head to face you towards his brother, “Use your words to address your Sergeant.”

You whimpered and struggled to not babble, “Y-Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir what?” Crosshair snarled.

“Yes, sir. I love being fucked in the ass.” You cried out squeezing at Crosshair’s forearms. Tech chuckled darkly from below you.

Crosshair huffed, “Say you're sorry for taking advantage of Hunter’s kind consideration.”

“I-I’m s-sorry Sergeant for taking advantage o-of your kind c-consideration.” You babbled trying to look at Hunter but it was impossible. You felt your resolve dissolving by the second.

“Are you still going to be a brat?” Crosshair punctuated his words with particularly hard thrusts that had you clenching down on both of them. Tech’s fingers on your clit still hadn’t let up making you absolutely dumb with pleasure.

“No, Sir. I won’t be a brat!” You whimpered leaning into Crosshair’s hold as your head started feeling too heavy to hold up yourself.

Tech snorted, “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Crosshair smirked before releasing your head to flop back down against Tech’s chest.

You sighed absolutely turning to mush as they continued to pummel you. You heard yourself babbling against tech muttering filth and nonsense as you drooled on Tech’s skin.

“I think we fucked her stupid,” Crosshair bent down to look at your face, “is our omega a little cock dumb whore?”

He heard you whimper and mutter something that sounded like an agreement making him smirk with satisfaction, “Fuck.” He choked out feeling himself near his end.

“Gonna fill this ass with my cum sweetheart.” Crosshair leaned down biting into your neck again agitating his mark making you clench down on Tech making him groan and fidget.

Crosshair made a deep grunt sound before his hips stuttered and you felt a rush of heat filling your insides. He came, pumping his seed deep inside you feeling the way Tech was still moving inside you. He had to pull out suddenly from overstimulation and stumbled backwards to catch his breath.

“Fuck.” He sighed in contentment. You could feel like pleasure and satisfaction through the bond making you purr. You preened at the thought of pleasing your alpha in this way.

Tech then grunted again and you cracked open your eyes to see the sweat gathering on his skin giving him an etherial glow as he fucked you. You laid your head back down on his chest letting him have his way with you, before he suddenly flipped you both over wanting a different angle.

You yipped, being pressed into the mattress once again, on your back for you alpha.

His pace picked up again as he found himself renewed with energy. He grabbed your knees as pushed them upwards to you shoulders where he put you in a mating press. You cried out feeling him impossibly deep inside you and you struggled against him feeling overwhelmed with his menstruations.

You were beginning to feel yourself peak and you started to get squirmy again making Tech look down at you, “Are you going to cum?”

You screamed and nodded vigorously forcing yourself to speak clearly, “Y-Yes! T-Tech!”

He then made for your unmarked wrist, grabbing it firmly before turning it to bring to his mouth. He pressed his wrist up to yours as he felt you cresting around him. He pressed his wrist to your mouth letting you lick at his scent gland.

“Tech!” You screamed as you came, then you screamed again as he finally bit you. You had to force yourself to breathe or else you would have passed out.

The fourth and final pice of your soul was finally set into place. Tech’s aura surrounded you in a warm blanket along with the others who were just out of reach, but near by.

Everything finally felt balanced and right.

You were snapped out of your omega subspace when you heard Tech calling your name softly.

You blinked a few times hearing the ringing in your ears dissipate before you regained your awareness.

All four of your alphas were looking down at you with varying looks of unease.

“Come here sweetheart.” Tech cooed, “Come back.”

You blinked before you felt a strange itch in your chest.

“Shhh. Shhh it’s alright, here you go.” You smelled Tech’s skin under your nose where he had used his other hand to guide you to his scent gland. He cradled your head as you weakly found his arm and brought it even closer to your face before you smushed it to your lips and chomped down on him.

You tasted his iron blood making you turn to lick the little wound.

You didn’t even notice when Tech yelped and Crosshair had to pry you away from his arm.

“Fuck, she was in deep.” Hunter said petting you.

You smiled before they let you flop back down on the mattress totally debauched.

The longer you lay there, you were starting to feel the soreness in your body and the wear in your holes. Especially your ass. You didn’t dare move knowing you wouldn’t be able to sit right for days.

When Wrecker brought you your tooka mug, you greedily sucked down the water finishing off the cup.

Thats when you realized you were still connected to Tech. The pilot gently moved the two of you ignoring you groans of protest to keep you on top of him. He yanked a blanket up and over the both of you keeping himself plugged inside you and his cum snuggly within your warm walls.

The post mating haze settled in once again, but this time there was no reason to move.

You sighed feeling at peace and whole… and full… very very full…

Hunter must have switched off the lights at some point, as the four of you drifted off into some much needed sleep for the remainder of the ride through hyperspace.

There was an exciting future on the horizon on Zyphora. Any trepidation you might have had was now resolved. It didn’t matter where you are in the galaxy, as long as you had your mates you knew everything would be okay.

Sleep quickly over took you and your exhausted body. You snuggled into Tech’s warmth like a sunning lizard as he wrapped a protective arm around you.

“I love you pretty girl.” He whispered before drifting off into some much needed peaceful sleep.

Your heart fluttered, “I love you too, Tech.”

You couldn’t wait for what tomorrow would bring.

Pip has had some good times on the Marauder...

Hope you guys enjoyed their little reunion and little... union... hehe

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Taglist: @substantial-exposure

@rains-on-kamino

@minimissmoo

@z-and-the-batboys

@aynavaano

@9902sgirl

@sideofhorny

@sxftiebee

@booksandtitts-blog

@subbing-for-clones

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knightyoomyoui · 8 months ago

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KNIGHT'S ALL-TIME FAVORITE TWICE FANFIC STORIES OF GREATNESS: PART 1

Heyo, Knight here! I mentioned from my previous post days ago that I decided to share some of my favorite TWICE fics that I finished reading since I reactivated my Wattpad account back in 2020. I just feel like my fellow TWICE AU authors who made these deserves much appreciation and recognition, so I made this. If you haven’t checked them out, oh you better do so. There will be more for me to share, so for now, take a look at these five stories that will be included here.

1.) "Adore You" | Mina x Nayeon by Nabongsbunny (Fluff, Smut, Angst) (2020)

I remember when this was my very first TWICE AU that I'd read after months of getting introduced to TWICE back in 2020. A friend of mine requested that I read this one after I asked her about fanfiction that features K-Pop idols, which I learned that other people were also doing it too. And my God, when I gave it a try... Although I was shocked at first at the unexpected lesbian smut that greeted me (and through the rest of the story, which my friend shyly apologizes to me for not making me aware of, lol, but I didn't mind it that much since I'm just in for the story), but all I can say is that the narration is so beautifully written, and all of the characters, especially Nayeon and Mina's, chemistry was carefully built through their backstories, moments, and decisions in life that actually can be put into real-life situations in which, despite being disappointing, you can't help but not blame them for it because... well, it's love. Also, this story was the reason that got me into listening and loving the song "Adore You" by Harry Styles. This one serves as like the official soundtrack if this would be an entire film, but you won't be surprised why the author perfectly chose this song to fit for Minayeon's story. A little glimpse to give about the story, if I remember correctly (it has been more than a year since I read it, but I'm planning to give it a reread because of how perfect it is), Nayeon is the bratty CEO of her company when she met Mina as the team leader who was appointed by her parents to take care of her as they send her to LA to enter a boarding school. There, she realized that this isn't actually their first time meeting each other when Nayeon finds Mina familiar, which brought her to recall where it all began, and the rest is one hell of a rollercoaster ride of emotions. Give it a read for yourself if you are fine with reading TWICE AU that features a ship or pair and doesn't mind a girl-to-girl relationship. I'm probably sure it would end up as one of the best TWICE AU stories you'll ever read. No wonder it became an iconic fanfic in the community. Try to ask a Minayeon fanfic to others; I bet this would be the first or one of them to be mentioned.

2.) "Move On" | Nayeon x Female Reader by @vorrentis (heavy Angst) (2018)

Is it a bit ironic that I'm not really into reading female reader x member if I'm a guy who's gonna read it yet I also read stories that features a ship in TWICE, which members are both female? Well that would be my case of not attempting to give this one a read from Vorrentis' goated TWICE one-shot book on Wattpad. Quick fun fact: Vorrentis is one of my favorite Twice AU authors and my inspiration for starting to write fanfics on my own. Okay, now back to what I was saying, thank goodness my curiosity finally had me check it out by myself a few weeks ago. The summary of this story would be Nayeon and YN, two ex-couples who broke up after Nayeon mysteriously disappeared, and YN didn't know where she went until she found out that she'd be marrying Jeongyeon, whom they both know as a friend of theirs. If you give it a read, you will see how YN would almost curse Nayeon's life to the depths of hell for breaking her heart after what she did. Beware, this story contains LOTS of strong languages because, like I said, it's heavy angst filled with confrontations and arguments. What I love about this is how the author did a great job on making the dialogues felt so real, as if when you were reading it, you can feel the intensity because it's like you're sharing the same room as them as a nosy spectator or let's say you are their child (lol). And oh, since I mentioned about how Nayeon's sinful act devastated YN's vulnerable heart brutally, here comes the mindblowing double twist that would be thrown to you as it reaches the climax. Had me gaping my mouth in shock at the back and forth of revelations.

3.) "Stuck In Fairytales" | TWICE x Male Reader by ZAKY14 (Fluff, Angst) (2020)

I found this one pretty interesting because it reminded me of "Knock Knock"'s storyline in the MV, minus the theorized creepy twist that ONCEs put in there, and when I read it, I was so entertained throughout the chapters. The author, Zaky, is known on Wattpad for writing a bunch of Twice fics, some of which feature other idols too. The story of this one is centered on "Lao Bang," the name of the reader here, who accidentally discovered an ancient storybook. He opened it and got sucked in there to be part of every story it contains inside, explaining why this book has arcs that feature some of the popular Disney fairytale characters that TWICE would be portraying as. This one has a sequel by the way, and it will continue to tell Lao Bang's story after he successfully escaped the book.

4.) "The Life I Never Had" | TWICE x Male Reader by Mashimuno (2020)

If you love superheroes and some action/comedy genres like me, this one is definitely for you. “The Life I Never Had” tells the story of YN, a guy who got teleported off Earth since he was 5 years old and grew up to be trained as a bounty hunter in the planet he got thrown at. One day, during a mission he got beaten up badly with his sidekick and forced to retreat onto a nearby habitable planet , and there he ends up at the Earth where he was born which is also where TWICE would be living also in this story (they're still portrayed here as idols, just like in real life, btw). It also has a multiverse concept that we usually see in Marvel and DC films. Read it if you want to see how YN would meet the girls and how his connection with them gets stronger, and it will teach him how to live an unparalleled life that he never experienced in the universe he used to live for his entire life as they get to know themselves more throughout the chapters while facing YN's adversaries from the other planet.

5.) "Sociopath" | Nayeon x Male Reader by @nichuuu (Fluff, Angst, Smut) (2023)

Back in February, I tried to search for some TWICE one-shots on Tumblr because not gonna lie I get tired of seeing bunches of smuts and nothing new in my feed. Then I found this one. Me loves tsundere because of how often I see them in animes, and the way the author made it possible by writing Nayeon's character like that in this story where she is the CEO of her company, famous for being a... well, let's say she is an evil boss who is a huge antisocial until she meets YN, who applied as her 25th secretary (insane, right?). The story is basically about how a devil meets an angel who will slowly change her perception of the reality of life, and through the people around her who will result in her change of heart. The more she also begins to fall in love with our male lead here, they also face some challenges that are related mainly to Nayeon's tragic past that brought her hostile side to emerge and live with it. The prologue was effectively hilarious when I first read it, and I knew right then that I would be reading such an awesome story. I even finished the whole chapter in just a day! It's truly one of the best rom-com TWICE fics I've read, and I highly recommend it.

#twice oneshot #twice fanfic #twice au #twice #twice x reader #kpop oneshots #kpop fanfic #kpop au

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just-1other-nerd · 1 month ago

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Okay so I know it is strange to become a Voltron reboot fan in the year of 2024 but here I am.

I don't really know why I didn't watch it earlier given that I really, really liked the She-Ra reboot back in 2020 and Netflix recommended Voltron to me and comments on Catradora edits said Klance walked so that Catradora could run. And now I wanted to watch it and finally did so because it's about to be taken down and I desperately needed to know what Klance was about as long as I still had the chance and I just knew that I'd regret not watching it. It's shitty that Netflix is pulling this good show that was exclusively on their site and I am mad af about that.

I liked the series overall but Klance is endgame to me so after finishing season 8 tonight I watched some edits. Also earlier this week I read a 57k fanfic with this ship in less than 24 hours on a school day, I did not get much sleep that night.

#klance #voltron #voltron legendary defender

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potchi-fics · 1 year ago

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One look

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ one look is all it takes. one look and you don't know how to function, your brain stops working, your palms start getting sweaty, and all those cliché things you read in a story where a character starts falling in love. but you don't believe those. you don't believe that someone could make you experience such sappy things, i mean--this is real life, no?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

you look at the clock hanging on the wall, its hands saying that it's thirty minutes before you start closing your cafe.

you saw that right, your cafe--your very own. it always has been your dream to work on one, to manage one, and to own one. your business bloomed the moment you opened it. of course, you're thankful for your customers, but every once in a while, you enjoy the peaceful of the place when it doesn't have many people in it.

on rare days, your cafe would be completely empty, and it's one of those days.

you were so lost in the ambience of the place that you didn't notice the soft creaking made by the entrance door being opened. hearing a gentle voice call out to you makes you snap out of your trance.

"excuse me?" the person called out, "are you still taking orders?"

quickly straightening yourself up, you finally see their face. it was a woman, a beautiful woman, you think inside your mind. your eyes meet hers.

one look.

one look is all it takes just for you to be proven wrong.. so so wrong. you feel the world around you two goes into blur, the time seems to slow down. are you losing your mind?

the woman's oreo themed hair suits her so much, her oversized and baggy clothes make her more appealing, and her height.. makes your palms sweaty, your brain stop working, and your knees weak.

"i'd like a caramel macchiato and a glazed donut, please."

jesus, her voice trances you like some hypnotized human. hastily ringing up her order, you thank her and informed her that you'll just call her name.

"i'm gonna need a name." you're surprised when your voice comes out stable.

she smiles, her eyes seem to disappear when she does, "bada."

and with that, your interaction ends. before you start working on her coffee, you take a moment to calm your beating heart. what's happening to you?

all the while making her coffee, you keep stealing glances at Bada. her aura makes you nervous and excited.

should you ask her her number? or is it too soon..

shaking your head, you finish her order and say out her name.

"for Bada?"

you see her figure stand up and walk towards you, it makes you more nervous.

she reaches for the coffee from your hand and her fingers comes into contact with yours; you feel electricity running throughout your body, your chest feels so tight like your heart is about to burst out of your body.

Bada smiles again, "thank you."

after she walks away, you lean back on the counter, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

this is real life. you don't experience those things, and yet.. you're standing there like a high school girl who just got her first crush.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

over the course of a few weeks, Bada continued to go to your cafe nightly. your impending crush weighing on your very soul, and you swore that you're gonna talk to her tonight.

as usual, Bada comes in and makes her order.

you look at her, and you just can't bring yourself to talk to her. her stare roots you on your spot, she makes the words you want to say get stuck in your throat. but before you could say anything, she beats you to it.

"do you want to come and sit with me?"

your cheeks flush red, "i.. yeah, i would love to."

Bada smiles triumphantly, like she just won a contest.

and just like that, you're in your own movie.

✮⋆˙♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧🦭✧˖°

thats it for my very first fanfic here on tumlr, i really hope you guys enjoyed reading even though its so short huhu. also, english is not my first language guys so sorry for the mistakes..

૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

#bada x reader #bada lee #swf2 x reader #fiction #oneshots #writing #imagines #swf 2 #female reader

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pbandjz · 5 months ago

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𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 • 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: pdh!gene x fem!reader

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: angst/comfort, fluff, romantic/suggestive tension.

𝐜𝐰: slightly suggestive (its GENE.) but majority sfw. 16+ !

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 2nd year at phoenix drop high, youre a sophmore. You run into ivy causing a mess and getting on her SUPER bad side. keeping ivys bullying to yourself from your friends, you get into a situation with the shadow knights.

DISCLAIMER

ive never writen a fanfic before so if this is cringe or too many unnecessary details and horrible spelling mistakes i am so sorry...pls give me a chance..(pls give me feedback on how to improve my writing. pls be nice.)

CHAPTER 2.

As you park in front of the girl's house, you pull out your phone to send her a text.

_______________

Aphmau ^^

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx

You: alright !! :) I'll pick you up in the morning! Goodnight!!1

Aphmau: Okeyyy! :3 Goodnightt!

Read 10:23

-monday-

You: hey i'm hereee

Delivered 7:20

_______________

You stare at your phone as you wait for her to respond. Dead panning at the front entrance after 5 minutes. Looking back at your phone and sighing, you unbuckle yourself and open the door to your car. You walk up to the front door of Aphmau's house and knock on the door. To your surprise you can hear shuffling from the inside and a yell from what sounds like an older woman.

The older woman swings the door open and smiles brightly at you. You’ve met her before but briefly. “Hi mija! Are you here to take my baby to school?” She holds her hand together waiting for your response. “Yes ma’am! I'm here for Aphmau” you finally respond with a nervous smile. She whips around and walks towards the stairs before turning to you for a moment. “Come in mija!” she says while turning back to the stairs and yelling up the stairs. You close the door behind you and wait for the black haired girl at the entrance. You wait about two minutes before watching the short girl wave at you from up the stairs. You smile at her and wave back as she rushes down the stairs. “Sorry for the wait” she exclaims. She runs up to you and throws her bag onto the floor and gets on the floor to shove her feet into her shoes. Picking up her stuff, you look at her holding the door open for them to leave. She yells her goodbyes to her mom and shuts the door and locks it. She turns to you and smiles tiredly. You smile back and head towards your car. You get into the car together and start playing music.

_______

at school

You look down at your phone as you finish climbing the stairs up to the front entrance of the school. You both give each other a side eye remembering that they have the doors locked for the first day. You and Aphmau both agree after staring at the doors that you would find the others before the bell rings. Looking around you make eye contact with kawaii chans sparkling orange eyes. You giggle to yourself about how happy she is to see you and Aphmau. You guys make your way over to Kawaii chan who is standing with Kaitlyn and nicole.

You don't seem to notice someone out of the corner of your eye while checking your phone for the time causing you to crash into one another. You fall to your knees in slight pain, looking up covering your sore nose to see Aphmau's terrified face and then slowly looking to see who you had the unfortunate fate of bumping into on the first day. You lay your eyes on an edgy looking teenage boy. His ashy blue eyes slightly covered by messy black hair stare down at you with disdain. You look back at aphmau and she looks down back to you while reaching her hand out for you. Picking yourself up with the help of your friend you look back to where the black haired buy was a moment ago. He’s gone. You look around and see he’s only a few steps away so you watch him walk away into the corner join a few other edgy looking kids. You roll your eyes and look back at aphmau who is nervously smiling at you. “Who was that..?” you finally break the silence. She’s startled by your question. Although, now you were good friends, last year you weren't too close. So you don't have any knowledge of the boy and Aphmau's history. “...is he an ex?” You ask, making aphmau's jaw drop and deadpan to the group of friends that were waiting for you. You turn to look at them and to your surprise they looked shocked. Kaitlyn looks almost pissed and disgusted and Nicole's mouth is slightly open in awe. Kawaii chan on the other hand…you can tell something stirring up in her little meif'wa mind. She has the fattest smile on her face that makes you cringe and hide behind Aphmau as you collectively walked towards the group.

As you near them, passing the fountain, you can feel the stares of other students. They're not necessarily BAD stares but it was awkward. “Are you ok?” Kaitlyn asks, turning her head and staring menacingly at the boy that didn't seem too apologetic for knocking you down. You glance over to the group and the heat rushes to your face when you catch him staring and you. He smirks before looking away and continuing his conversation. “y-yeah..I’m fine,,why?”. You face the 4 friends in confusion. The four of them look at you with concern or nervous smiles. Nicole leans in and cups your ear and whispers, “Well, last year Aphmau had a few problems with that group. They’re called the Shadow Knights. They’re just a group of delinquents. They just skip and tag the place up while no one watches. They haven’t done anything too bad after what happened last year with them getting caught skipping in the back of the school. But they still seem to like picking on some students. It's best not to associate with them in any way for the better of your safety.” she pulls away and smiles. You look to aphmau with a worried face. “So his name is Gene?” You ask. “Yeah. The one you bumped into is gene, the white haired girl is sasha and the brunette is Zenix.” Kaitlyn says with a hint of hate in her voice.

As you turn to speak to Aphmau the bell rings and all the students rush into the building after the doors open. Youre about to walk into the crowd when KC grabs you and pulls you back into the group. “Kawaiichan thinks its best to be the last to get into the building so we dont get lost..” You shrug and nod in agreement. To your suprise, when most of the students made it into the building you see Gene and his friends start to sneak away. Kaitlyn being petty and nosy, calls over Teony. She’s been holding the door the entire time, you couldnt see her behind the swarm of students. Nonetheless she makes her way to you and the other girls before glancing at the group of delinquents trying to make their escape. “Sorry ladies..” she says sweetly before storming towards the students and scolding them and dragging them into the building. You start making your way into the building aswell. Catching another glimpse of an even more angered trio, you cant help but let out a small giggle while passing them, earning a glare from Zenix.

_____

☆

In class

You dont have any classes with any of your friends for your first class so you sit at the seat near the back window looking out into a hall. Your eyes travel across the room before stopping at the now opening classroom door. You watch the black haired boy grumbling to himself as Teony drags him into the class. She waves at you before explaining to the teacher that he had gotten lost. Obviously a lie. Teony was a saint when it came to saving even the bad kids. She leaves after waving you goodbye. TThe teacher looks at the boy with a soft smile. She looks around the room and lay her eyes into you. Smiling, she gestures over to you with her hand. “There. You will sit there for the semester. Maybe sitting next to a top student will help you get your act together." she says gently with a bit of disdain in her voice. He looks into the direction the teacher was pointing with zero emotion on his face. Until he lays eyes on you. He furrows his eyebrows and groans while shuffing his way towards the seat next to you. Placing the bag onto his desk before standing there next to his new seat glaring. You can smell the faint smell of cigarettes poorly covered by cologne, making your nose scrunch in disgust. You give him a weak and fake smile as he sits. Making him smile just as, if not more obviously fake, in response.

_____

☆

After a nerve-wracking class, you stop near the door of the class to look at your schedule. You can smell the cigarettes again. You felt someone shove past you in the alomst empty hall. You look up in confusion and see Gene walking away. You stare at the back of his head. “Asshole.” You mutter under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear over the sound of werewolves playing around in the next hall. He stop in his tracks, turns his head to look back at you with a shit eating grin. You return the smile back as if you said nothing. Walking past him before he can get a word in. You can feel his gaze burn into the back of your skull, making your face flush red in fear of what you just got yourself into.

#aphmau #aphblr #fanfic #minecraft diaries #mystreet #mystreet gene x reader #gene x reader #phoenix drop high #aphmau fanfic #aphmau shadow knights #romance #gene

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hopeswriting · 2 months ago

Note

Top KHR fanfics

hi nonny, thank you for the ask!

okay so i obviously haven't read all the khr fics out there, so this will be by no means an exhaustive list. but from the ones i've read? *crack knuckles* let's go through my bookmarks in no particular order!

also adding this after i finished answering the ask, but this just ended up being a list of arco fics and/or tsuna fics (+ the 10th gen and/or reborn). but like. are we surprised zfsdfdsf.

on ao3:

flip a coin [head for villain, tail for hero] by petroltogo

Superhero/Supervillain AU: All Sawada Tsunayoshi wants to do is help people. Considering his occupation as a Vongola Inc. superhero, you'd think that wouldn't be much of a problem. You'd be wrong. [Of course 'people' isn't supposed to include wanted supervillains. But it's hardly Tsuna's fault that the training manual doesn't specify that, is it.] Along the way, he learns to help himself.

this series is just so, so good! all the works in it are simply *chef's kiss*. the worldbuilding is amazing, the characters so in character and complex and with so many layers and depth to them. also it's obviously planned down to the last detail, so it's incredibly fun to follow along and try to piece the puzzle along with the various characters' pov.

The Boy in the Ice by eloquentelegance

A mysterious pillar of ice drops out of the sky and fuses with the grounds of Yuuei. It's not the strangest thing to happen, especially for this school. But the boy, frozen within, is strange - yes, very strange indeed.

haven't read chapter 2 yet, but i have no doubt it won't disappoint whenever i'll be able to get to it. as for chapter 1? a fucking masterpiece. it's a khr x bnha crossover, and i don't usually read crossover, but boy, am i glad this is one of the few i gave a chance to haha.

Yugen by Little_Miss_Bunny

In one world, Tsuna sacrificed his life to save the Arcobaleno. As soon as he drew his last breath, he opened his eyes again to see beaten students cowering in front of him and a bloody hammer in his hand.

it's been a while since i've reread this one, but i still have the reaction of "oh, this one was so, so good!!" whenever i come across it lol, so yeah. what i do remember is i absolutely love the depiction of hibari in this one as well as his dynamic with tsuna. also little miss bunny is one of my favorite khr writers, they're so good at crafting the different aus they come up with and making them feel real while still keeping the characters in character, i love it.

Target Acquired: Wicked Jester by poorasdirt

Colonnello has always been a military man. He understood what led to him being cursed. He understood why the others had been cursed. Or, well, why most of the others had been cursed. Skull's motivations had always been a mystery to him. Now that the curse had been lifted, Colonnello could finally sit back and try to puzzle it out. If only it were that easy. Or Colonnello's instincts were telling him something wasn't right and curiosity only kills cats.

i know for a fact i've already recc this one before, and i'm doing it again because it's just that good. <3 it's another one heavy on worldbuilding, which is funny because usually worldbuilding isn't exactly my thing, but how can i say no to them when they're all so well written like this. anyway it's a skull-centric fic through nello's pov, so of course i was all for it zfsegfdsds.

Starstruck by Little_Miss_Bunny

All Tsuna wanted was his siblings to be happy. So, he didn't see a problem attending a fan signing for one of the hottest bands to date, even if he had no clue who they were. He did start seeing a problem when more idols started appearing in his life. It got even worse when they just wouldn't leave him alone.

i love this one so, soo much! this is my favorite work of theirs. it's currently at 153k words tho, so not too sure how to summarize it lol, but just trust me on this one! it's more on the lighthearted one compared to their other works, tho still touch on serious stuff and do it well, but i'd still consider it a comfort (and funny) fic.

Scorching Ember by Little_Miss_Bunny

When the revered Sky Priestess suddenly passes away, everyone mourns. However, the world is soon engulfed by darkness, giving rise to creatures that seemed to only exist in folktales. With the gods mysteriously absent, there is no one to keep everything from descending into ruins—until a hunter finds a curious object in a barren creek.

another one from little miss bunny that i love so much!! maybe or maybe not because nello is the first arco to appear, so there's certainly no shortage of nello & tsuna interactions. more seriously tho zrfsdfds, this is another one where the worldbuilding has obviously been given a lot of care, and the characters are written so well, tsuna first of all, and it's just super fun to read.

Forever Family, Forever Vongola by AnimationNut

They're a group of insane, energetic, destructive and hyper people. But they also love each other, whether some are willing to admit it or not. Family sticks together, through thick, thin, and crazy.

the ultimate platonic/familial khr fic! with how many chapters it already has (57 for 195k words), you're bound to find more than one you'll love. some are connected, most are not. some are lighthearted fluff, some more on the heavy, serious side of things. but all chapters are written so well, and at their cores it's all about how much these guys love each other.

The Hottest of Flames can Melt the Strongest of Chains by Luki (KelpieCodyne)

I'm not a liar, but I close my eyes a lot by Seito

another incredible series that is just so, soo good! it's about tsuna not wanting to become vongola decimo and doing what he can so it won't happen. no happy endings yet, but the series isn't marked complete yet either, so we'll see.

It started with bang. A bullet casing falling to the ground; the clatter echoing off the walls. It started with Tsuna putting a bullet through the head of his enemy, unflinchingly. Blood spattered, flying, rolling down Tsuna's cheek. Brown eyes burn with orange fire, yet so, so, so cold. In another world, Reborn would have smiled. In this world, Reborn flinched.

i haven't reread this one in a long while, so i honestly... don't quite remember how it goes zqdsfds, but i still remember it was an amazing read all the same!! i mean, the summary alone is so good? also this writer is one of the best in the fandom imo, so yeah.

ozymandias was a punkass bitch (but he had the right idea) by Seito

“You want Vongola? You can have it,” Tsuna says serenely.

loved this one too! badass tsuna is always a treat, and i always love to see it.

last to fade by Trilies

Mammon's last breath is of rain and gunpowder. Before they make their choice, they consider lives lost and the options they have. There's not a lot. Set during the Millefiore timeline.

a look at what mammon's last moment could have been like. super well-written.

Striking Once by istilllikekhr

A peek into the universe where Nana Sawada was given the Lightning Mare Ring.

this one has an unsual pairing (byakuran & nana), but you'll be missing out if you don't give it a chance because of it. i also didn't have a clue what to expect when i first clicked on it, but when i tell you it did not disappoint. and the ending? oughhh. please give this a chance!

Sunny Skies Ahead by Ourliazo

Reborn is not yet the world's greatest hitman, not quite a proper Sky, and definitely doesn't want these ridiculous Guardians that he keeps running into.

sky arco reborn who does not want to be the sky arco? it's just as chaotic and funny as you might think zqefdddsf. the interactions in this are absolute gold, and it's just such a fun ride to see all the bonding happen despite reborn's best efforts lmao. also ourliazo is another one of my favorite khr writers. the way they write the arco and tsuna (and every other khr characters tbh)? absolute peak. and then you add their humor, and i will simply never be tired of their writing.

Sincerely, Scattered Shards by You_Light_The_Sky

Tsuna’s the foolish type to give a bit of his heart to anyone he meets. No one ever wanted his ugly heart shards until he met his Guardians. No one ever treasured his heart shards until them either. Hints of All27 and R27.

heartbreaking and heartwarming all at once. i actually had forgotten i had this one in my bookmarks, as well as the fic as a whole tbh 😅, but it all instantly came back to me like a punch in the gut. there's so much love in this one guys. the kind that hurts and the kind that heals and the kind that makes it all worth it in the end.

Forgotten Memories of a Broken Soldier by Maintenant

The Arcobaleno arrive at their collective house after their yearly meeting turned mission. Skull had been left there to cook them a warm meal for their return, seeing as he is useless in a mission, but it is not Skull they find when they return. Rather, it is, but it is not. For this Skull has cold eyes and harsher threats, and he doesn't know the rest of the Arcobaleno. Perhaps more importantly, the Arcobaleno find, is that they don't know Skull.

i love this one for the ending and the build up to it. it's a wip, but the first chapter can be read as a one shot (imo) so it works well. it's a skull is harry potter fic, and like i already said i don't usually read crossover fics, but this is another one i'm glad i gave a chance to.

Never Will Forget by Squoxie

Tell the ones, the ones I loved I never will forget

a song fic about skull surviving the rest of the arco. the summary alone always pulls at my heartstrings whenever i read it.

Beginnings And Middles But No Ends In Sight by Ourliazo

A compilation of the various chaotic missions that the Arcobaleno take on pre-curse - as well as the many dumb things they throw themselves into even without being paid for it. [Fon tries to trap a cockroach with a tissue, but it runs up his sleeve. Reborn watches as Fon flips his shit, rips off his sleeve, and punches the cockroach to death. Reborn is still laughing by the time Fon comes back from disposing of the corpse and washing his hands. "Thank you," Fon says pointedly, rather upset by the entire experience. Reborn is crying.]

this is the daily life arc - arco version fic as i like to call it. an absolute fucking ride as you can imagine. love it to fucking bits.

don't look at the child underneath the floorboards by Kosaji

Happiness is based on a just discrimination of what is necessary, what is neither necessary nor destructive, and what is destructive. - The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas Ursula K. Le Guin In which truths are realized and a choice is made.

the one where tsuna is freed from vongola thanks to his guardians. love it a lot.

Those Last Few Memories by Ourliazo

In one future, the Arcobaleno band together and try to fight off the Anti Tri-ni-set radiation.

the way my heart squeezes whenever i think of this fic. so heartbreaking and so well written. and the ending? oughhh. you just have to read this one!

on ff.net:

Rage Vs Hope By: ariathal2410

The order was to kill anything that moved, the city was too far gone to hope for survivors. But if there was one thing Colonnello didn't sign up for, it was killing kids. (28 Weeks Later AU, eventually merges into a semi-au) eventual all27?

zombies au that is both nello and tsuna centric! alternate between both their povs too. there's other canonical characters as well as ocs, but they're written well and enjoyable to read about too.

How to Survive the Fae By: MikeLamp

As the trees around them collapse, Tsuna's eyes don't stray from the human trembling before him, "So tell me," he hisses, eyes glowing, "where is your King now?" She whimpers instead of answering. In a world where the fae haunt the overgrown forests and angels control the cities with an iron fist, Tsuna doesn't want to just survive anymore.

another fantasy au that still manages to keep the characters true to themselves and is super well written. it's arco27 (seems to be anyway), with skull and who is likely fon in the last chapter being the only arco who appeared so far. and the skull & tsuna interactions in this? *chef's kiss* i love them.

Just Another Tuesday By: ariathal2410

Tsuna doesn't know why all this supernatural shit started happening in his life, but he'd really like it to stop now please. Mild Arco27

this is one of my favorite khr comfort fics. funny and fluffy with just the right amount of protectiveness and possessiveness from the arco (as well as flirtiness tbh lol).

come get me By: MakeItVoid

Reborn waits a little impatiently for someone to come get him. He doesn't know what to do now. The fire is creeping closer. (Reborn doesn't want to die like this.)

this is imo one of the best written reborn i've ever read about. maybe even the best one? either way i just love so, so much the way he's written in this fic, i couldn't not have added it to this list.

Gokudera Hayato By: rynoa29

It hurts more than you think it would, but your face can't help but to beam with pride.

a look at gokudera and his dynamic with the key people around him throughout his life. a lovely and well written exploration of his character.

and that was the last fic of the list! by which i mean there's actually more haha, but these are the cream of the crop among my favorite khr fics.

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr #khr fic rec #khr arcobaleno #vongola tenth gen #sawada tsunayoshi #khr reborn #asks #Anonymous

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aokuro-san · 5 months ago

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Recommending fanfics (III): In progress or incomplete.

It's been 84 years or something like that… But today I woke up wanting to recommend fanfics, so I continue with this small collection that started with:

Complete fanfics: https://www.tumblr.com/aokuro-san/714582391192272896/recommending-fanfics-i-complete-fanfics?source=share

and continued with

One-shots: https://www.tumblr.com/aokuro-san/723176474909327360/recommending-fanfics-ii-one-shots?source=share

And before continuing,

I want to remind you that… In general I like to read fanfics x reader (or with inclusion of reader) because I enjoy imagining that I'm inside the story, however, you'll see that there are some that I didn't take that way and I still love them.

I hope you like it!

Part 3: In progress or incomplete.

shiratorizawa antics, by mooshys

(Haikyuu!!) AO3

I said it at the time and I'll say it again: SHIRATORIZAWA is my favorite Haikyuu!! team, and this was one of the stories I was most eager to recommend; not only because it was one of the most elaborate ones I read on the subject, but because it's a great slice of life that's worth reading, even if it's not finished, that deals -again- with the experiences of the fictional Shiratorizawa manager with the peculiar members of this team. In general, stories full of light humor, but that can also deal with more human/adolescent themes such as fear of the future and what we will be in it.

Anyway. A little gem that I always come back to and that can even be read as if it were an anthology related to each other (I think?).

26/28 (at first, because the author always changes the final number of chapters, haha).

Belligerence, by SecretPuddin

(Jujutsu Kaisen) AO3

Apparently, while I was "away", this fanfic increased its number of chapters and seems to be about to end. But, since it is not yet, I will take advantage of it and recommend it to you here (in fact, I just noticed that the last publication date was in 2023, but, well, that should not discourage anyone either). Because, like everything I recommend to you, in general and in my eyes, it is more than worth it!

In this case, the story is presented as a story of love, violence and family found between the reader (male, in this case), a lover of fighting with good feelings (typical shonen protagonist, but with hidden depths and a traumatic past as the plot progresses) and the unfortunate Junpei Yoshino, while the parents of both have their own romance in the middle; which, inevitably, complicates and uncomplicates things at the same time.

It is… BRUTAL. I mean, when you start reading this story, you certainly don't know how much it will impact you and how well the author will treat the themes and her characters (within the context she offers us). Especially Junpei, who always seemed like an interesting character to me and…, for those who were left with a bitter taste with his ending in the original story, this fanfic could be the answer!

However, keep in mind that it deals with topics, perhaps taboo, perhaps controversial, perhaps tricky, depending on the reader's sensitivity (which is excessively high lately xD) and there is some sexual scene involved (especially when the healthy relationship between the reader and Junpei inevitably turns into these areas), so, unlike me at the time, I would tell you to read the story tags to get an idea of what you will read… or not.

21/24 (again, for now).

Vivisection, by death13

(Blue Lock) AO3

Ok, maybe I'm taking a risk here, but it won me over after just one chapter and I think it deserves to be included in this post. Also because it's rare to find fanfics that include or are, directly, horror (my favorite genre) and that, in addition, start in such a potential way as this one (that it catches your attention and is good, let's say).

The plot introduces us to the new manager of her high school's football team, where weirdos seem to abound, and the tension and bad vibes (or feelings) are present almost at all times! Even if you can't pinpoint exactly what's wrong, you know something's wrong, the protagonist's friend knows something's wrong (and her last sentence is quite revealing (although also prejudiced)… And this is just the first step of what seems to be one of the best horror fanfics that could be born around here. Well, as I said, I can't say much because only the first chapter is available… But I think it was worth including it for the reasons already mentioned.

1/15 (in principle! The truth is that it's the one I hope continues the most of all, haha).

PS: I don't know why the suggestiveness of certain Shirley Jackson stories, mixed with the typical j-horror, came to my mind… So, there you have it! If you like both things, I think you'll appreciate it even more.

Well, look, for now we'll leave it like that. I know that there are fewer fanfics than the ones I usually recommend… But, in general, most of the stories I read are usually complete, so I didn't have much material, although, it's true that I have more unfinished stories out there. However, right now it seems risky to recommend them, since, when I go over them, they don't seem as good to me anymore or I feel that, despite the good story, the protagonist is somewhat weak compared to these three here (even within their simplicity). So we'll be content with these three (the best of the best, haha, and what will be easier for you to find).

Well, I'll see you later (if I feel like it and I'm not busy with my own work, lol)! 😇

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probssomethingorother · 9 months ago

Text

Next of Kin: A TLOU fanfic

This is really long and hopefully kinda sad. Don't look too close cause I got tired of editing and didn't get a beta.

Pre-Tlou, Sarah's birth story, big sad, canon compliant-ish

Sarah, Joel, Claire (OC)

Rating: Teen

“This is on you, boy. So you march back in there, you take the reins, and you do right by that child. You hear?” He only manages to nod his head, but Mr. Johnson finds it’s enough, and he is released with a final shove. In the silence that follows, a lifetime passes. He stops being a kid, walks back in, and tends to his child. ------- The day Joel becomes a dad and how he deals. Slight canon divergence where his wife dies instead of leaving.

ONE SHOT - Words: 15,929

Live laugh love, comment subscribe reblog - that's how it goes right??

Read on AO3 here or down below ⤵️

He becomes a dad on one of the worst days of his life.

July 20, 1989.

*** ʚїɞ ***

It’s a slow morning until it isn’t.

Soft light pours into their tiny bedroom through sheer polyester pom-pom studded blue curtains, relentlessly shining onto his face until finally, Joel cracks open his eyes. He inhales deeply, sucking in air against his pillow as he withdraws his arms from underneath and stretches until he takes up the entirety of the bed. It’s just a full - it’s not hard to fill the space, but usually, there is someone else keeping both his arms from hitting the sides.

Claire.

Head popping up as he blinks away the fuzziness of sleep, he catches the time on their bedside clock, and then promptly flops back down.

8:47 AM, Thursday - class.

She is halfway through some advanced design course right now, stuck in an architecture studio with a bunch of kids who don’t know how to hold a hammer.

“You’re voluntarily going to summer school?” he had teased, a mock frown puckering his forehead.

“You’re not going to be able to build ‘em, if I can’t design ‘em, buddy,” she shot back with a grin.

They don’t have many concrete plans, but they do have a little dream to start up their own building company - her designs with his construction, in-house everything from start to finish.

Several months ago, it looked like that dream was gone. He came home to her sobbing on the floor of his bathroom, clutching three positive pregnancy tests, blubbering about how it wasn’t supposed to happen, how her parents would be so upset, how her life was over, and how she didn’t think she could be a mom.

After the shock abated—the overwhelming drumming in his ears subsiding to a disconcerting tapping and his heart slowing to a crawl—he descended to the bathroom floor to be beside her. With a deep breath, he slid down the putrid yellow wall, intertwined his hand in hers, and exhaled every ounce of air in his lungs. Then, with a sweet peck to the top of her hand, breathlessly he told her, “I don’t know nothin’ ‘bout kids….but I do know… if one’s gettin’ you for a mom - they’re goin’ to be pretty amazin’.”

Much to his chagrin, his words only brought on a fresh wave of tears and sobs. He didn’t know what part of what he just said was wrong, but he couldn’t handle seeing her cry. As he frantically scurried on the tile floor to sit in front of her, he missed the subtle shift in the way her shoulders shook, angst turning to something lighter.

Tenderly, he nestled her head in his hands, and hastily sputtered:

“No no no, please don’t - I didn’t mean - we can do this is all. Ain’t the end of the world. You’ll be a good mom - and I think maybe... I’ll be a good dad - teach him all sorts of stuff about buildin’, and football, and my abuela’s tamales...And he’ll... and I know we don’t got much right now, but that’s just right now - we can have ‘em -“

And then Claire let out a snot-soaked chuckle, mouth twitching up at the sides as she wiped her wet face against his arm, leaving a shiny residue.

“Him? What makes you so sure were havin’ a boy?”

With a sigh of relief, he sat back as her tears came to a trickle; and with a curt nod and a smile, he dropped his hands away from her face.

“Well yeah,” he drawled, “Miller’s only have boys - me, Tommy, all the primos- not a girl in the bunch.”

Two days later Claire met with her counselor, rearranged her course schedule, and made a plan to enroll in the summer semester, freeing up her fall for the arrival of the baby. At the start of term, she crossed her fingers and prayed to God that the little nugget would stay inside long enough for her to make it through to finals.

It’s her last week. So far the plan has worked.

Normally, he’s navigating the morning rush to drop her off at UT Austin before he heads to the relentless buzz of the construction site, but this morning he’s on the late crew. He has nowhere to be til noon, and the extra hours of sleep are nice, but he also would rather be working.

He had asked for more shifts to make extra money before the baby comes, but Asshole Andy didn’t take too kindly to the request and did the exact opposite - slashed his hours by six each week, snarkily advising him he could “probably use more time at home prepping from the arrival of the rugrat.”

He had brooded over the whole ordeal for a couple of weeks, but now it irks him less, especially since Claire has given him a laundry list of things to complete before the little man comes home - assembling the crib, buying a bottle warmer, installing his car seat, cleaning the kitchen, and the bathroom, and the floors, and the couch, and pretty much every surface in their dinky 700 square foot apartment.

The list starts its relentless nag on his mind right as the last dredges of sleep scurry away, and the morning light, now too bright for any more excuses, floods their matchbox of a bedroom. It leaves Joel with no choice but to begrudgingly abandon the comforts of their bed, and rolling to its edge, with a small groan he begins his day.

Shuffling out of their room, his feet catch and peel away from the warped parquet floor with a faint, sticky noise that echoes in the quiet morning. It's one of the many quirks of their aging apartment that they've come to accept- its "charm," as Claire loves to say. Their living space is a hodgepodge of second-hand furniture, DIY fixes, and cheap decor. They have tried to make it look better, but even with all of Claire’s design knowledge only so much can be done to distract from the place's age and size.

He flicks on the TV - an old set, the screen slightly too blue- and flips to Sport’s Center to catch the Astros’ game highlights.

Taking a few moments to himself, he plops down at the tiny table wedged in the corner of their kitchenette with a hefty bowl of frosted flakes before the day's duties demand his attention.

His spoon pauses mid-air, startled, as the front door swings open and bounces against the wall. He’s halfway through breakfast, but wasn’t keeping track of the time.

Claire comes barreling through, her presence like a sudden storm, backpack haphazardly dropping with a thud as she crosses the threshold. She’s always been a bit of a tornado, bouncy brown curls trailing her like a dust cloud as she whips up small messes in her wake.

“Need to pee!” She announces as she hurries past Joel, her movement more of a rapid wattle, one hand cradling her swollen belly. She’s three weeks out from her due date and feeling and looking like “Veruca J, Veruca!” - as she likes to lament to him at least once a week.

Despite the urgency, she tosses him a small smile as she slips inside the bathroom and shuts the door. With a small smile of his own, he gives his head a little shake and returns to his cereal.

“You eat?” He calls with a full mouth, attention on the screen in the far opposite corner, a little too enthralled watching the Astros get smashed by the Mets. The question is thrown casually over his shoulder, a formality really because he knows the answer. She never eats before class, opting to take the extra few minutes of sleep over fixing up something, but still, he has to go through the routine: he asks, she grumbles, he says the baby needs food, and then there is a slight pause before she crosses her arms and says he’s right.

But when its usual pattern unfolds with no reply, he lobs another question towards the bathroom, “Wan’me to pour you a bowl of this?”

And that’s when everything speeds up.

She emerges from the bathroom with stark panic etched across her face, its complexion losing color by the second. Her deep brown eyes, wide and unblinking, lock onto Joel's like a silent scream.

Her shorts are off, her underwear is red, and blood spreads down the tops of her inner thighs.

He’s on his feet in a fraction of a second. As he darts up, the table jostles violently, sending his breakfast airborne in a chaotic slew of cereal and milk, and the bowl slips off, splintering against the tile of the kitchen floor. The high-pitched clatter of it all is nothing compared to the sudden ringing now filling his head.

Tears begin to pucker her waterline as he rushes to Claire, his footsteps quick, his hands hovering before they gently, firmly, grasp her shoulders.

A thousand words are interchanged between them, but none break from either of their lips.

With a shared nod, they split—Joel to the chaos of their bedroom for clothes, Claire to the phone.

“Mom?… Momma? Can you n’Pop meet us at the hospital?” Her voice is shallow and cracky, but Joel can hear it as clear as day as he rushes to throw on a t-shirt and wriggle into a pair of jeans.

“No St. David’s ..” she chokes out, as he stumbles over his own feet as they enter his pant legs, leaving him to careen into the closet door. As he pops back up, he catches her trembling voice ending the call: “Okay, love you, see you soon.”

The phone crashes to the laminate countertop with a sharp clatter, clearly not rehooked, as he snatches his wallet from the dresser and scrambles to find his keys.

If he wasn’t fighting to suppress the panic quickly growing inside him, frustration over the search for the pesky things would have been all-consuming. He rummaged through three pairs of pants, and checked under the bed, in the couch cushion, in the kitchen, the bathroom, and pretty much every other inch of their apartment, before finally lifting Claire’s backpack strewn in the entry to see the car keys discarded beneath.

Within seconds of his eyes landing on them, they are out the door, and the worst and best day of Joel’s life begins.

*** ʚїɞ ***

“Joel?”

“Right here, baby, right here.”

“I - I- please, don’t let - we need to - now-”

“I know, I gotcha.”

Her fragmented pleas, broken by sharp intakes of breath and muffled by cascades of tears, repeat incessantly in his head—louder and more urgent with each echo. Joel can’t get it to stop - much like his leg moving in an equally incessant rhythm, bouncing up and down as he sits in the rigid chair. The compulsive movement is matched by his hand - right anxiously twisting his watch band back and forth, rubbing it deeper and deeper into the rawing skin of his left.

“There’s so much blood.”

“Just focus on breathe’n now, we’ll be there soon, alright?”

Dried remnants of it cling stubbornly to the crevices of his knuckles and dirty the spaces in between his fingers, staining them a brownish crimson. He could clean it off, but it’s a piece of her - and if he can’t see her, at least he can still look at this bit, no matter how gruesome.

Almost an hour has passed since he’s last seen her.

By the time they reached the ER, she was too dizzy to walk. She’s not much smaller than him, but Joel had scooped her up with urgency anyway and charged through the sliding doors. The muted blue walls of the hospital corridor blurred in his periphery as he zeroed in on the signs leading them there. As he burst through the doors, they rebounded off the walls with a loud slap, and the collective gaze of the waiting room pivoted toward them.

His arms burned from her weight, but he dug his grip in more, fingertips pushing into her thigh hard enough to bruise.

"Something’s wrong with her," he blurted out to the quiet room, his blown-wide eyes locking onto the woman’s at the admittance desk.

It took no time for the nurses to descend on them, ushering Joel out of the waiting room and back toward a bed he could finally let her down on.

Claire was barely coherent, face ashy, breathing labored.

“What’s her name, son?” A sweet older woman with box-dyed red hair asked, gently moving him aside to better attend to Claire.

“Claire,” She took his name officially a few months back, but he’s known her longer as - “Claire Johnson,” - it just flows right.

“Okay Claire, we’re going to take good care of you. How many weeks are you, hun?”

When her head lolled to the side, lips moving but no words coming out, he felt like someone was squeezing the air out of his lungs while simultaneously filling his head with cement.

He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus. His eyes bounced from her to the monitors, from the nurses to doctors, from the needle being pushed into her arm to the cross on the wall, from the strap being secured around her belly to her beautiful curls getting crunched beneath the oxygen mask, and then finally, to a calendar hanging crookedly above the corner sink -

His gaze had lingered there for a long moment.

Claire had put a magnet on the fridge to track the weeks, a little pink and blue calendar. He thought watching the time tick by was a little silly at first, but this week, when she flipped it to “3 weeks from baby!” he got a little flutter of something in his chest.

“37,” he muttered, brain distantly doing the mental math as a nurse dispensed a healthy glob of ultrasound jelly onto Claire, bottle squelching with the brute force of the squeeze.

Only 37 seconds later, a decision was made: she needed surgery immediately. Her bed rails snapped up, she was disconnected from the machines that beeped and blinked with a detached urgency, and wheeled away swiftly. Someone tried to explain something about the placenta and an “abruption” and that she was losing more blood than her body could handle, but all Joel could focus on was keeping pace with the gurney so her hand wouldn’t slip from his.

But eventually, it did - had to.

She was pushed behind a set of doors he was not allowed to go, held back by a physician’s firm hand. “Take a seat, someone will come talk to you,” they said.

That was 37 minutes ago, and nobody has come to talk to him.

The flickering of the fluorescent light overhead is now the only thing keeping him sane. It mixes with some sun strips crossing the blue tile floor, and when everything hits right, it looks like beams of light dancing at the bottom of a swimming pool. He finds himself fixating on it, forcing himself to take a breath every time a glowy strip appears. Everything else around him just fades into the background, the ring of the hustle and bustle of the hospital becoming muted as if caught beneath the waterline.

Claire once told him blue is used to evoke calm, but surrounded by the hospital’s blue walls and blue floors, it only makes him feel more and more like he’s drowning underwater.

Claire loves the water.

She’s lived in a landlocked city her entire life, but give the girl a chance and she will talk about the ocean. She’s only been a handful of times to the coast- just Padre Island, yet, you would think she’s dipped her toe in each of the seven seas. Sand and sunshine, blue skies and blue sea - she could never get enough.

They had almost escaped there for the Fourth.

“Come on, J, one last hurrah,” she had pleaded, her eyes alight with the prospect, her voice threaded with excitement as she bounced around their small living room. “It’s called a babymoon - everyone’s doing it now,” she had tried to explain, doing her best to convince him to sit in the sand and watch fireworks explode in dazzling arrays over the Gulf.

But he had to say no. There was no time, no money, and his old car, which creaked and groaned even on short drives, would probably not survive a four-hour trek in the boiling Texas heat.

It’s a little silly - especially now - but all he can think about is her and him, and how they really should have just taken the goddam trip.

*** ʚїɞ ***

There is little to say to her parents when they arrive and find him waiting, his hands slick with sweat as they approach. He gulps hard and clears his throat, scrambling for words that refuse to form. But before he can try to speak, Mrs. Johnson pulls him in for a hug.

Her hand gently brushes the back of his head, and the precipice of any words dissolves into a shaky exhale into the crook of her neck. She smells like a blend of lavender and vanilla—just like his mom used to. When she breathes, "Oh honey," her voice cracks with maternal warmth, and for a moment, Claire’s mom is his mom, and he doesn’t want to let go. Arms, heavy and trembling, slowly rise around her, his body deflates, and for a flash of a second, he doesn’t feel like he’s stuck underwater.

But he only gets in one breath before he slips back under.

Claire’s father, a big burly man - an old-fashioned Texas rancher- interrupts the moment, hand going firmly to his wife’s shoulder. He tugs her back, guiding her to a nearby chair with a look of the eye and a twitch of the head.

Mrs. Johnson’s eyes, already weary and tinted red, spare Joel one final sympathetic look before taking her seat and turning to the ground.

Mr. Johnson takes his wife’s spot, leaning in close. His breath is hot and has the stench of musky cigars as it puffs into his face. “Nurse at the front told us what’s goin’ on,” he gruffs with a dagger-like glare, a look that Joel has only seen once before when he caught them one late night junior year fooling around in the back of his Tio’s truck.

If it hadn’t been for Claire coming between them—literally—Joel’s pretty sure Mr. Johnson would have killed him on the spot.

Unfortunately, he’s lacking her protection now.

On shaky knees, he sinks back down in his seat as Mr. Johnson takes his own next to his wife, who has already brought out her Rosary and begun the Litany.

For a long while, he watches her fingers glide across the beads. Her umber tone makes the milky cream of the tiny glass orbs and the gold-plated cross shine in her grip. Head bowed, her voice is hushed, a whispered prayer—delicate, but intentional.

He’s never taken much to religion, but it was important to his mother, so he never missed a Sunday. It was just a hollow obligation then, but in this moment, he can see why people are drawn to it.

There is a comfort in knowing what to do, what to pray, who to ask for help.

He follows along in his own head, punctuating her efforts with his own hard “Amens”. He pushes his anxiety into each prayer, hoping the Mary up there will take pity on them, see herself in Claire, and protect their son.

They only make it three decades deep.

Perhaps if they had finished it, things would be different.

He barely registers the doctor’s approach. When he slowly looks up, he can’t miss the hollow defeat that hangs heavily in the woman’s eyes as she comes into focus behind the Johnsons.

Time stops.

He goes rigid, fidgety anxiousness leaving his body as dread pushes in.

Seeing the change in Joel's expression, the Johnsons twist to face the doctor, their bodies stiffening as they stand. He tries to rise, but his legs betray him, and he remains half-seated, peering through the narrow gap between their shoulders. The doctor, flanked by the nurse from before with the coppery hair - “Judy” he remembers off a name tag - looks exhausted, face drawn tight, almost like a different person then who she was in the ER.

"I'm sorry," the physician offers, each word measured but heavy, carrying a weight that squeezes out all the little remaining air from the waiting area. "We did everything we could, but..."

The words that follow blend into the sterile air. Something about complications, a clot to the brain, a loss too great, a life gone as a new one gasped its first breath.

His knees buckle and he’s back in the uncomfortable seat once more. His fingers find the sides and wrap around, knuckles going white as he holds onto the plastic like it’s a preserver in rough waters. Every hair on his body stands to attention as a wave of goosebumps runs from his head to his toes. Saliva pools in his mouth and his throat constricts tight and his lungs feel like they are vacuumed sealed shut.

They say when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. What they don’t tell you is that it happens just the same when they die.

Claire.

She’s eleven years old, escorted into their church camp room, and placed in a seat next to him. He was dared by Freddy Bower to yank her ponytail so he gave the new girl a gentle tug. In return, she picked her nose and wiped it on his arm. Everyone teased him the rest of summer that she had given him her cooties.

She’s in his homeroom when school starts in the fall and the rivalry is instantaneous, competition whittling down to their days of birth - and of course, she’s three days ahead.

And then she’s thirteen and leaning across the circle, the tip of the soda bottle pointing towards him. Even though she unabashedly wiped him off her lips, he didn’t mind the way her strawberry chapstick lingered on his. He wanted to remember his first kiss with a girl, even if it was with her. At the same party the following year, they are stuffed in a closet for seven minutes in heaven, but they stay several inches apart - “Miller if you think I’m goi-” - “Oh, like I would even want you to.”

And then they are freshmen, and she’s not in any of his classes or clubs and he kind of misses her, but convinces himself it's just the competition that he craves, and has nothing to do with how she’s bubbly, and witty, and pretty, and fun.

And then it’s the summer and they are stuck in the back of a hardware store together, wearing neon green vests, racing to stock shelves, tallying who knows the most paint codes, and the competition is back and now he doesn’t want to let it go. So he doesn’t.

He makes her start to hate him less, and they get paired together in home-ec, and when they both get dragged to church by their parents they go to the pew in the back and fold all the hymnal pages into geometric patterns. They get close enough for his mom to start packing her a tamale in his lunch, teasing “para su amiga,” with a wiggle of her brow, and for Claire’s older brother to start snagging him packs of Marlboro Reds from the corner store on Park before away games, because “since you she fights with our Pops less.”

And even though she laughs in his face when he asks her to Junior year homecoming, it’s official - they are together - and they stay together.

She cries with him when his mom dies and he holds her tight when her brother meets the same fate five months later. She gets accepted to NYU, but decides to stay in Austin for school - “I’m not doing this for you - me and Tommy are buds now, can’t leave him.”

And although she lives in the dorms freshman year and he takes the couch at his Tio’s, they still make it work. When he saves enough to rent a place of his own, one night a week becomes several, and then she’s with him full-time. And she decorates the place with seashells and butterflies and they laugh and dance in the living room, and burn things on the stove, and watch marathons of shitty movies, and flood the bathroom trying to fix the sink. And he pops the question one silly night under the sheets, and puts a peach ring on her finger, and he’s in love, and they are making plans, and having dreams, and having a -

"Hun?" The gentle intrusion startles him as it slices through his life with her. Judy’s auburn hair flashes infront of his eyes before her kind gaze takes its place. He nods mechanically.

“Why don’t you go see your baby girl?” She chirps soft and smooth, as one of her wrinkly hands comes to his elbow while the other wiggles her fingers under his and unlocks his grip from the edge of the seat.

With another shaky nod, he forces himself to his feet, each step hesitant as he follows the Johnsons out of the waiting area.

Only once he’s at their backs do her words hit his brain, but by then he’s not sure he’s hearing anything right - hoping he’s not hearing anything right.

*** ʚїɞ ***

Things go a little hazy for a while, like wandering through a dream that both makes absolute sense and none at all.

Despite being behind the doctor, her parents set the pace- a quick stride, nipping at the physician’s heels, pushing her to lead them down the winding corridor at a speed Joel finds wholly unmanageable. He can’t quite put his finger on the feeling, but his brain is telling him that it’s strange to be rushing - inappropriate- to be speeding this along.

With every five tiles, he falls a step behind, his pace slowing incrementally until the echoes of their footsteps fade and he’s alone with nothing but the empty stretch of corridor to navigate.

Distance.

Minutes ago, he had wanted the space between them to disappear; now, he wishes the hallway would stretch a little longer, the doorway be a bit further - hell, if he could move her room to the other end of the hospital, that would be best.

Space is time, and he needs time before this moment finally catches up with the next. The next that’s tainted by a cruel reality waiting on the other side of that door.

When he finally steps in and sees her, color already gone from her face, he feels small, like a little kid - he is a kid - and she was a kid - and now they have -

He doesn’t remember walking over to the clear plastic bassinet, but then he is there looking down at the thing that took his first love from him.

Her tiny fists wave in the air - clearly a fighter from her first breath- and then her teeny nose wrinkles up as she lets out a piercing cry.

The shriek, is timed perfectly with a deep wail from Claire’s mother.

The sounds are like the gun at the start of a race, his feet moving before he thinks.

He has no control over his body as he rushes back into the hallway, his heart pounding, breaths shallow and quick. His chest feels like it’s on fire as he slides his body down the wall, sinking into the floor, much like he did several months back when Claire broke the news - although this is light years more jarring.

“Why don’t you go see your baby girl?” Plays back in his head like a cruel joke.

It’s a girl.

He should be happy that at least one of them made it out, but all is brain can grab a hold of is the fact that the one that did, is not his girl - not Claire.

The commingled cries leak under the door and waft into the hallway, giving him no reprieve. His hands slide over his ears as he tucks his knees into his chest and digs his forehead into the denim of his jeans.

He thought he knew what grief felt like. When his mom died, years ago now, it was like someone rearranged his insides and forgot to put his heart back into the right place, stuck somewhere near his stomach, perpetually sunk. And back then, he knew it was coming - a monster in the closet that would eventually come so he left the door ajar. He slowly grieved the loss of her for months and months before the cancer finally took her, and it hurt, but not like this.

This was different.

He wasn’t prepared for a monster to come and take everything, and certainly not on today of all days.

He thought they would rush to the hospital and get settled in a room and figured the worst thing that could go wrong was Claire squeezing his hand maybe a bit too hard - maybe even enough to break it, he had heard that could happen - and then after a few grueling hours, they would leave with arms cradling a boy, a strong little fella with Claire's bright eyes and his big’ole nose.

They would go home as three.

He knows there’s two of them now, but he feels like he’s just one.

He can’t do this.

With a clack on the tile, feet halt in front of him. Raising his head slightly off his knees, dark brown cowboy boots come to fill his view as they grind into the ground. With a firm hand - an angry clench that squeezes his bicep- Claire’s father hoists him up roughly, feet slipping on the smooth tile as he’s forced to stand and face him.

His eyes are all fire when they meet Joel’s and his grip intensifies as they bear into him. He’s heard stories about Mr. Johnson’s anger - never would touch a woman, but Claire’s told him about how he wouldn’t hold back on her brother Mike. For a moment, he’s sure he’s about to experience what he can do, but instead, he’s slammed against the wall.

“Stand up. Act like a damn man,” he growls, his voice a strident whisper.

It’s harsh, but expected. Her dad never liked him, thought he was derailing his daughter's future, and that was before getting her pregnant. Five years of pent-up anger and disdain are channeled into the vice grip on his arm. He winces, but he also knows he's fortunate it's only his arm taking the brunt of it.

“This is on you, boy. So you march back in there, you take the reins, and you do right by that child. You hear?”

He only manages to nod his head, but Mr. Johnson finds it’s enough, and he is released with a final shove.

In the silence that follows, a lifetime passes.

He stops being a kid, walks back in, and tends to his child.

His child: Sarah.

That’s the name they had picked after thumbing through a far too large book rented from the college library. Claire had wanted something with meaning, “classic, but strong,” and landed on Alexander and Sarah - a warrior and a princess.

He didn’t think they would be needing the girl's name - “Miller’s make men” he had begun to chime every time Claire’s eyes veered toward something pink or purple for the baby. But perhaps it was mother’s intuition because here she is.

Sarah

She was supposed to be their princess. Now, she’s just his, and that fact weighs his body down like an anchor, planting his feet next to her bassinet, forcing him to stare into her big brown eyes that go as deep as the ocean.

Claire would have loved her baby’s eyes.

A warm hand settles between his shoulder blades, and he pushes his gaze away from her, blinks rapidly to clear away the tears pooling in his waterline, and turns toward the source. A nurse with a yellow scrub cap that matches a tweedy bird pin clipped on her pink scrubs offers him a quaint but sullen smile and drops her hand away.

“You picked a name out for her yet, sugar?” She asks bending over the bassinet clipped to retrieve the name placard at the top of the small crib.

The powder pink card boasts “It’s a Girl!” in a cursive font with flowers and a cheery teddy bear with a bow. Beneath it, are all the important things, like “Mother: Johnson”, “Weight: 6lb 1oz,” “Length: 17 ⅛. In.” and “Time: 10:27am.”

The spot for the name is glaringly empty.

Joel nods with a sniffle.

“And what’s the winner then?” The clipboard in her grip swings around to her front, and she balances it in a crevice of her stomach as she uncaps a black felt tip marker with her teeth.

Mouth dry, he swallows hard. The last time his throat pushed out words was when he whispered “you’ll be okay” into Claire’s ear as she was pushed away from him through those doors off the ER bay. He hates that his last words to her were a lie, but that’s neither here nor there now.

“Sarah,” he says slowly, listening how it floats through the air.

“Middle?”

He knows what Claire wanted - what they had planned - but his eyes flick across the room and find her blanched face obscured by a tube and surrounded by monitors, and he just can’t go with it.

“I think it should-,” he pauses, pondering it again for a fraction of a second, “-Claire.” He nods, “Sarah. Claire. Miller.”

He hopes she doesn’t mind.

*** ʚїɞ ***

The hours begin to bleed together.

The mechanical whispers of the hospital - the soft beeps, the muted shuffles of footsteps, the low voices of doctors, and nurses, and administrators weaving in and out the dimly lit room - it all becomes one giant mush after a while.

Someone had offered to wheel Sarah away, and put her in the nursery with all the other newborns - “are you sure? fathers ain’t normally the ones watchin’ them like this” - but despite being utterly terrified, he shook his head at the offer. He planted himself in the corner of the room on a small maroon plastic couch, rolled her bassinet firmly in front of him, and kept her small form at his eye level.

People come in to evaluate Claire, but when nobody veers toward their own little space to check on them, he wonders if it’s the wrong decision. She seems perfectly fine, but his leg bounces nervously with the possibility that she isn’t - silently slipping away because he doesn’t know anything about babies.

His gaze rarely leaves her even as conversations swell around them, constant low-murmured discussions about what comes next.

They frame their words carefully, tiptoeing around the inevitable, trying to present things as if there are options to be made, but there aren’t options - there is just one option :

When to let her go.

She’s already gone in all the ways that matter. Her body is there, but her brain is not. She’s never going to wake up. She’s not going to go home and dance in their apartment, or wiggle her toes in the sand, or blow bubbles in her drink, or call him “Joel Michael Miller” when he tickles her too much.

And she is not going to hold her baby, or hear her giggle, or see her take her first steps cause Claire is not going to be stepping out of this hospital.

He knows it, but the Johnsons haven’t quite gotten there yet. So he just watches from the corner of the room as her parents ask all the same questions over and over again, yet hope for different answers.

Earlier, someone had tried to explain what happened was rare. That when the placenta detached her body kicked into overdrive, blood clotting excessively. As little Sarah was being pulled into the land of the living, Claire slipped the opposite way, a clot traveling up to her brain and cutting off blood supply for too long.

A one in a million chance.

“Exceedingly rare,” they had said repeatedly, and, “no way to know this would happen,” as though those two things could somehow soften the blow.

Soft enough to knead it into something it isn’t.

For her parents, “rare” became synonymous with special, and “no way to know” mutated into defying the odds, and both together turned into a false hope of an impossible reality.

“She just need’s some time - we’ll wait- our Claire - she’s a strong one - patience is a virtue.” her mother told the room, aiming the words at nobody in particular.

And waiting is what they have been doing. They hover by her bedside, chairs drawn close, bodies hunched over and slipping out, practically on their knees as they tightly grasp Claire’s hands and pray.

Their words to God fill the space between beeps and breaths, and he doesn’t really believe in Him like how they do, but part of him also want’s to get down on his knees and ask Him why.

When the hours tick by, they start to beg for a miracle.

And Joel doesn’t believe in that sort of stuff either, but the longer he spends with Sarah the more he thinks that God has already delivered. He could have taken them both, but he left one behind.

Wrapped snuggly in a hospital blanket, she stirs slightly, her tiny hands balling into fists against the underside of the blue and pink striped fabric. He holds his breath until she settles.

He’s been doing that a lot.

The door groans softly on its hinges, inching open just wide enough for someone to slide through. The Johnsons pivot toward the sound, and they nod in recognition, gesture returned politely by the nurse slipping through. She then shifts focus, surprisingly shuffling back toward Joel tucked away in the corner.

It’s Judy again - that nurse from the ER who seems to be trailing them throughout the hospital. She pauses beside him, her gaze softening as she looks down at Sarah, and then back to him.

“May I?” Her voice is a hushed whisper as she gestures to the cramped couch that has become his home for the last several hours.

Anxiously his hands had been wedged beneath his thighs, but he slides them out, and scoots an inch to the right, making room for Judy to settle in beside him.

“I know I’m not one of the gals in pink, but I thought I would come and check on ya’ll.” She adjusts her sea foam green scrub top, smoothing out some wrinkles, and untangling her hanging ID badge that’s gotten caught in the chain of her glasses draped around her neck.

She’s so nonchalant about it all, it's a little strange, but also a little comforting hearing someone talk to him like normal.

"How are we holdin’ up?" she asks her voice a gentle coo. Joel pauses, caught off-guard, unsure if her words are meant for him or the baby nestled in front of them. He goes with the former, but manages only a shrug, expression a bit hollow.

“Well, that’s expected,” she murmurs back.

“I don’t know what to do,” he confesses, his whisper barely audible as he brushes his palms back and forth against his thighs.

He’s been thinking it for hours, hasn’t dared to utter it outloud, but something about Judy has him spilling his secrets.

“Do?” She angles toward him, her brow bunched together in a soft frown.

“With her. I don’t know what I am supposed to be doin’.”

A reassuring touch lands on his knee. “Oh hun, nobody really does at first. But you’ll get there,” she encourages. With a hopeful tilt of her head she suggests, “Why don’t you start by holding her?”

Joel balks, his voice stuttering. “No I don’t - I don’t -,”

He’s thought about it, but she’s a tiny little thing - swears he’s seen potatoes at the county fair bigger - and he’s petrified of someone how smushing her. He’s fairly certain his hands will cause more harm than good the second he reaches for her.

He hasn’t, so he won’t.

“ - I can’t,” he begins, but Judy halts his efforts with a raised hand.

“Nonsense,” she dismisses as she stands, couch squawking with the change in pressure. Her hands are cool as they touch his arms, sending goosebumps up his skin the moment she bends and positions them. The reaction has nothing to do with the iciness of her touch though; his heart bounces into his throat before settling back into his chest and hammering against his ribs.

“Yep there ya’go,” she softly assures as they become a cradle. Silently, he shakes his head - every part of his body telling him he shouldn’t do it, but Judy pays no mind.

"It’ll feel more natural than you think.”

Staying petrifyingly still, his eyes acutely track her as she turns towards the bassinet and slips her hands under Sarah’s small form. “Hand under her head now, like where mine’s at,” she instructs, catching Joel’s nervous eyes and waiting for him to return a nod before proceeding.

He’s not ready, but he doesn’t think Judy would let him stop even if he asked; he suspects her bright red hair matches her personality in that regard.

He bites down on the inside of his cheek and gives her a curt confirmation.

He’s going to have to be ready.

Sarah's tiny head fits into the crook of his elbow, and for a moment, he's too afraid to breathe. Her weight settles against his chest, and although a rush of warmth floods through his heart, physically he can’t seem to meet the feeling halfway, body clenched up tight.

Filled with apprehension his eyes flick up to Judy. She’s giving him a hearty smile, the crow's feet at the corner of her eyes turning into deep valleys as they crinkle up.

When Sarah begins to squirm and fuss, it has his heart starting to beat nervously fast. He didn’t realize he could be any more tense, but his body constricts even more, shoulders darting to his ears, spine curling, feet pushing hard into the ground; it's all in a futile hope that if he stops moving, she will too.

He holds his breath.

“Relax, she’s a baby, not a brick,” Judy whispers, careful not to aggravate Sarah anymore as she bends in close. “She feels what you’re feelin’ honey just -” Her hand settles on his upper arm and brushes down it.

He forces himself to take a breath, urging his body to comply with Judy’s coaching. Slowly, his shoulders come away from his ears and his chest sinks back against Sarah, and he lets out a shaky, but unburdening breath.

Sarah settles too.

When he looks up to show Judy, he discovers she has retreated several feet, busying herself with something on the back countertop. His heart catapults into his throat again as he realizes he’s holding her alone. His eyes widen with concern as they snap down to Sarah. He gulps hard, adam’s apple pushing down to the bottom of his neck and then climbing back up. His muscles are threatening to constrict again, but he tries to keep all that at bay.

Relax, relax, relax

The anxious flutter only settles when he sees Judy returning.

“Chart says she’s fit as a fiddle, and due for another feed soon. Did the nurse show you how to give her a bottle?” she inquires, peering at him over her purple glasses.

Joel shakes his head.

“They show you anything?” she presses, her tone gentle as she moves her readers and sticks them into her bushy hair.

Again, he shakes his head, and then at the same time both their attention moves toward the Johnsons, still ensconced in their silent prayer at Claire’s bedside. A mutual understanding passes between them then, both knowing that other things have taken precedence in this room besides teaching a new dad how to be just that.

“Well, I ain’t no labor and delivery nurse, but I’ve had five of my own. Reckon I can get you sorted,” she declares, settling back onto the couch. With practiced ease, she adjusts Joel’s hold on Sarah, her hands confident and caring. Unprompted, she continues, “You remind me of my youngest - and I’m not going to ask you where your mama’s at - but if my little one was havin’ his own little one, and I wasn’t there for some reason, I’d hope that somebody would have some mercy on that clueless kid and step’n for me.”

It’s true, he is a clueless kid.

He doesn’t know how to hold her, or feed her, or change a diaper, and he’s not sure what cry is fine and what sound should have him racing to find a nurse.

Not to mention any of the parts about her being a girl and what to do with that. He might have been able to push through if life with this child was going to be mud and dinosaurs and football and little boy things, but he has no idea about pink and princesses and dance class and being a girl.

And part of him knows he still wouldn’t know any of this stuff if Claire was sitting next to him, but at least she’s made for this.

Was made for this.

He’s not.

Yet, as if reading his mind, Judy offers: “You’ll figure it out.”

Sarah’s small lips pucker and then croak out the faintest yawn, before flattening into a little smile.

“See, she like’s when you hold’er,” Judy chimes while playfully bumping her shoulder into his.

Goosebumps cascade down his body again, but this time they are warm—soft and bright, like Sarah's smile. The fear still lingers, rattling in his chest, but he can’t help but mirror her expression. His mouth twitches, the corners lifting into a smile of his own.

The longer he looks, the more he realizes he’s seen that grin before.

Lost in the moment, he looks up to show Claire.

*** ʚїɞ ***

“No reason to keep her here, you’re all set to leave,” the pediatrician tells him as he unhooks his stethoscope from his ears and gently places Sarah’s blanket back in place.

His tone is light and optimistic, but his volume is hushed, matching the somber ambiance of the room. Everyone’s been quite cognizant to keep quiet with the Johnsons holding vigil at the other end.

“Leave? To another room?” Joel whispers, swaying on the balls of his feet, hands crossed tightly over his chest.

With a small snort and shake of his head, the doctor tries again, “No no, your baby is being discharged, you can go home.” There is a beat of silence and then he adds, “get out of ..here.. for a bit, get a break from this, son.”

Joel’s eyes drift over to Claire’s parents, and a weight that’s been looming in the background suddenly settles on his shoulders. He rakes his hands down his face and they settle in front of his mouth, palms touching like prayer hands.

He knew this would come, but he hadn’t let himself consider how it would play out. A shiver slips down his spine and he drags in a long breath.

He’s not sure he can do this part, but then again, he didn’t think he could do any other parts of the day either.

“Talk with ‘em, but I think it’d be best if she goes home tonight,” the physician encourages as he departs, giving his shoulder a small squeeze before smiling back at Sarah and taking his exit.

The talk is a mess.

It’s a charged volley of raised voices and differing views.

They can’t believe he is considering leaving, but the doctor is right, there is no reason to stay lingering by and waiting in a place seeped in gloom and dread when Sarah’s life should start with something much brighter.

They tell him a mother and child aren’t supposed to be separated.

They aren’t wrong, but they aren’t right. He holds his tongue to what he could say, and the conversation pivots, anyway.

He asks them to revisit what the doctors said, that she will not be waking up. Gently, he tries to convince them that Claire wouldn’t want to live as a shell hooked to monitors and breathing by way of an air tank -that this isn’t what she would want - that this isn’t her.

But they don’t get it. They tell him God can work in mysterious ways, that He will choose if she goes.

He tells them that God made his choice, and now it’s their choice - his choice, he corrects. He has let them take charge this entire time, but their ceremony at the courthouse in March makes this his responsibility.

It was just a little thing with a borrowed suit and a white dress from the thrift store, and a Clerk named Alvin as their witness, but he wants to uphold the vows he swore to her that day.

With a scoff, they tell him that it wasn’t before God, that it wasn’t in a church, that it might have well have been two kids playing dress up.

They say she’s still their responsibility. And he knows “responsibility” for them is really “she’s our baby,” - and he now has a glimpse of what that means - but still, he can face what they can’t.

He tells them they are making her suffer.

They tell him he’s going to hell.

He doesn’t necessarily disagree with them.

*** ʚїɞ ***

When he shakily thumbs through some paperwork - meaningless words on a page that don’t stick in his brain - and then signs his name at the bottom, he somehow feels too young and too old at the same time.

His signature is a janky mess that anyone would be hard-pressed to decipher if it came from the trembling hand of an eighty-year-old or a fourth-grader learning cursive for the first time.

Her dad had told him to be a man.

It hurts, but that’s what he’s trying to do.

*** ʚїɞ ***

When the nighttime air hits his face, he takes a breath, dragging it in slowly through his nose and holding it until his lungs beg for mercy. He thought a few moments away would feel good, but it just seems to have highlighted a new type of anxiety that’s prodding at his insides.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind tells him he’s forgotten something, but he knows it isn’t true.

Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, it whispers.

He tries to picture exactly where she is, tucked safely in the hospital minded by nurses, but the nagging feeling stubbornly remains.

Anxiously, he twirls a pair of borrowed scissors in his fingers as he walks across the parking lot toward his car. Every step further elicits one more repetition of her name, louder and louder.

Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, Sarah.

He pauses halfway across the parking lot, the urge to go back stopping his stride. As he drums the blade of the scissors against his palm, he considers it for a moment. He wants to have her where he can see her, but shaking his head, he dismisses the idea and continues on.

It’s strange how they’ve only been together for a few hours, and already he can’t seem to let her go—not even when he tries. He hopes that’s normal.

His keys twist into the back lock and the trunk pops open with a loud click, catapulting open and up as soon as it's unlatched. Having seen far better days, the ‘78 Wagoneer is chronically temperamental. He’s normally fluent in its weird behaviors, but he’s not on the ball today.

A second too slow at catching it, the edge nails him in the face as it comes up. It doesn’t hurt all that much, but it’s embarrassing, and he quickly turns his head around the parking lot to check if anyone’s noticed. But the only thing staring back at him is the washed-out face of a smiling baby plastering the side of the car seat box in his trunk.

It was bought over the weekend from Walmart, but hasn’t been touched since. Getting it sorted before the baby was born was supposed to be on the list of things for him to do.

Obviously that didn’t happen.

With a hefty sigh, he drags it closer and flicks open the scissors to slice at the packaging tape. Every inch of the orange handles and silver blades are heavily plastered in sharpie with “Nurse Stat. 7” to an absurd degree.

Asking for them wasn’t easy.

His request was simple at first: “Ma’am, do y’all have a pair of scissors or somethin’ I could borrow?” The woman at the large, curved desk glanced up, giving him her full attention. He probably didn’t need to say more, but her direct gaze made him nervous, and he found himself rambling.

And that’s when things got hard.

“We just had - I just had -” he stuttered before stopping in his tracks, trying to find the words that felt right to explain what had happened that day.

They did just have a baby, but they weren’t a “we” anymore, yet saying “I” felt dishonest—he hadn’t done anything. She had done everything. Gave everything.

And he knew the other half of his “we” was gone. He knew it, but verbalizing that reality outside the confines of her hospital room felt like he was spreading a lie, leaving a bitter, acidic taste in his mouth. So he decided to omit it—“if you have nothin’ nice to say, don’t say nothin’ at all,” he reminded himself, as though he was a kid back on the schoolyard, stopping a pesky rumor from spreading.

He wished it was just that.

With his hands buried in his pockets to hide their shaking, he instead managed, “My baby came a bit early and were gettin’ ready to go, but they say she needs a car seat, and her’s is still packed up in the back of my trunk.” The words came out awkward and uneven, voice cracking as if he was just a kid.

She was light on the sympathy when she handed the scissors over, slapping them into his palm with clear directions not to run off with them as if she’d heard his story several times before.

Maybe she has.

He dumps the pieces out haphazardly and arranges the array of lightweight muted grey awkwardly shaped plastic parts across the flatbed. The only bits he can definitively identify are a curved handle, a lightly padded fabric liner in blue, and two thin woven nylon straps for her seatbelt. Frustration comes on quickly as he fails to snap together two parts that look like they should fit, finds nothing that seems to anchor another, and every time he looks at the pieces scattered about, it feels like the pile has doubled in size. The minutes start to tick by quickly, and he’s no further in the process than when he started.

The little voice in his head is getting louder and louder screaming Sarah, Sarah Sarah!

He’s not really an impatient person but he can’t take it.

With an exasperated breath, an unlucky piece flies from his hand, arcs through the air, and crashes against the interior of the trunk, ultimately landing back among the sea of discarded parts.

Leaning heavily against the back bumper, his clenched fists dig into the rusty metal, knuckles going white. His chin hits his chest, defeated. Of all the things to make him unravel today, he can’t believe the goddamn car seat is somehow a fighting contender.

He thought he would be good at this - capable of building something - it’s what he does day in and day out, but this is a puzzle, not a construction project. He can build a house, but he has no idea what fits where in a seat that doesn’t even look like it would hold a toy doll, much less a living breathing child.

His gaze lifts reluctantly to the box, and with a deep sigh, he straightens. Dragging one hand through his hair the other plunges back into the box and retrieves a small white instruction booklet that mocks his competence. He slams the trunk shut with a dissatisfied breath.

Coming around front, the window slips down a healthy inch as he forces his car door open with the usual two hearty tugs. The leather of the seats are cracked and chipped, and whenever he slides into the driver’s side, his jeans always snag as he gets settled. Today is no different.

The car smells like her - sweet and floral with a hint of salt from that spray she likes to put in her hair. Claire always said it was to help with her curls but knowing her, Joel thinks it was just to smell a little like her favorite place.

He leaves the door open, allowing the nighttime air to cycle through the cabin and chisel away at one of the last remnants of her.

Lingering in any memory of her for longer than a heartbeat hurts far too much.

He cranes and contorts his body to catch a sliver of light, but it helps little. Even the big bold letters on the front - “Joy Ride Infant Seat Manual” - fade into the darkness and when he flips to the first page, squinting does nothing to help decipher the instructions.

With a sigh, he tosses the booklet into the passenger seat and moves his keys from the cup holder to the ignition. The clunker sputters to life, and Joel slams his door shut, the window pane sneaking down another half inch as the metal frame rocks with force. He drives it up two spaces, putting it under the white light of the parking lot pole lamp, and then gets out, and tries again.

The instructions do wonders for making progress.

The seat begins to take shape, but its frame is lighter and more fragile than he wants it to be. Each piece snaps and clicks into place with an unsettling ease that doesn't inspire confidence in the slightest. His hands grow clammy as he flips back and forth through the instruction booklet, doubting each step.

"Right?” he asks with skepticism to the air, picturing how it should look, glancing at the flimsy thing, and then back to the box and booklet. Truthfully, he had been worried about the quality even before putting it together:

“It’ll be fine, we didn’t even have them when we were kids, and look - we made it through,” she had tried to assuage his fears as they waited in line with it by the register on Saturday. Doubt about their choice started settling in when he picked up the suspiciously light box and it rattled with the sounds of several small pieces.

Several pieces that are now somehow a car seat.

“Right,” he mutters reluctantly, shaking his head at the final product. It hardly looks like it will keep her safe, but he’s pretty sure that is the result of choosing the cheaper option - of being two kids on a shoestring budget - and not his poor assembly skills.

He was always the worrier, Claire was always the one to talk him down.

“Go with the motion of the ocean, dude” she would always kid, dropping her voice low and slow, pretending to be some surfer boy Kyle from San Diego.

He wonders if she would stay as cool about 'the motion of the ocean' if she saw the seat's concerning sway, despite being securely fastened into the backseat during the short drive through the hospital parking lot. His ears can’t help but to zero in on the sound of its rocking as he maneuvers the Wagoneer from the dimly lit lot to the harsh fluorescent light under the hospital’s awning.

Coming to a stop, the engine idles with a rhythmic purr that mixes with the steady blink of his hazards, and for a moment, it feels nice - just him alone.

But it doesn’t last long. Alone makes him feel guilty.

Sarah! The voice in his head screams again.

As he reaches to turn off the car, his fingers brush against his keychain, causing the baubles to jingle. He pauses, the sound drawing his attention to the beaded orange and black monarch and a tiny bleached conch that knocks softly against the other keys.

Claire had "spruced them up" one afternoon, hoping to get a funny rise out of his coworkers at the construction site. After the teasing, he took off most of the other girly keychains and pink ribbon, but he kept around the butterfly and small sea shell.

He wishes he kept all of it now.

With a deep breath, he retrieves the scissors from the dash and goes to collect his daughter.

She is fussy and more squirmy than he thought a baby should be when he eases her down into it. Her tiny limbs flail against the stiff plastic sides and each time he tries to snug her in, she wriggles, face scrunching in displeasure. The straps are working against him too, twisting up as he fumbles with the buckles.

His hands tremble as he attempts to adjust the plastic chest piece, sliding it up, then down, never quite finding the right spot. He knows he’s doing something wrong, but he’s not exactly sure what - other than maybe being too gentle, but he’s not sure how to change that either because he’s determined to keep his touch feather light with her; keep it all soft and gentle so he doesn’t scare her more than she already looks to be.

He glances back at the assembly booklet, but the part about actually putting your child inside is light on details - just one page out of a hundred.

Sarah’s cries escalate, echoing in the backseat and slipping out to fill the air in the hospital entry.

His heart races as he imagines the eyes of every passerby on them, judging his clumsy attempts. A car honks loudly, startling him, and he pops his head up just in time to catch the driver shaking their head in disapproval as he swerves past.

“Work with me Sarah, come’on baby girl.”

He holds his breath as he hears the sound of the sliding doors behind him, and his hands still as he bears down and waits for someone to yell at him to get a move on.

He steals a quick glance over his shoulder, catches the eye of the woman coming through, gives her a pleasant but curt nod and then turns back toward Sarah in the car. He hopes the gesture will stave off the inevitable complaint heading his way.

“Excuse me.”

He sucks in a breath but doesn’t reply, unsure of what to say. He knows he’s been at this too long, he doesn’t need a stranger reminding him of it too.

A gentle hand lands on his shoulder.

"Need some help with that?" she asks.

His face must convey his answer, cause she doesn’t wait for his reply, pushing in next to him. Part of him wants to resist the help, too proud to need it, but the better part of him lets his hands back away and hers take his place.

“First time’s always hard with these things,” she tells him as her hands untangle and unclip the twisted straps. Her nails are painted purple like Claire’s before - like Sarah’s mom’s that morning - and that’s all his brain can seem to focus on as she moves things around. He almost misses her undoing the straps completely and resetting them- apparently he anchored those upside down when he put the thing together.

With a final click of a buckle, she’s gone as quickly as she came, giving him a pat on the back before climbing into the car that honked at him just moments ago.

He didn’t get the chance to say thank you.

*** ʚїɞ ***

It’s a short drive home, but it's a spotty blur of lights in the dark - some greens and reds, but mostly whites - bright headlights that burn into his retinas from the rearview as he takes far too many long and hard glances toward Sarah in the back seat.

With every mile, his grip on the wheel tightens and his arms stiffen, and by the time he’s pulling into the apartment complex he might as well be a statue in the front seat. And even though it prolongs the stiffness even more, he takes the curve into the apartment complex at a crawl and keeps the speedometer unreadable as he glides gently into his parking space.

His foot moves slowly as it eases off the break, car bobbing back ever so slightly. His hands release the steering wheel, knuckles aching as they straighten and flood back to color. His right-hand drifts stiffly down, fingers curling around the ignition key. With a deep breath, he pauses, gaze going to the top of Sarah’s car seat just visible in the corner rearview, and then with a decisive twist, the rickety engine that had been her lullaby shudders to a halt.

Mercifully, she doesn’t wake.

He exhales a long breath as the car settles into the stillness - quiet, yet far from peaceful.

Drawing another breath in feels like inhaling sludge, oxygen to thick to gulp. Suddenly his body is feeling again, bringing out every worry and fear that he pushed down in their drive home. They are trying to crawl out of his stomach, digging into the sides of his throat as they climb their way up and out.

He can’t breathe.

The car is totally stopped, but he feels like any move he makes now will somehow send them into a tailspin, he won’t be able to steer them out of it, and they will crash, and Sarah will end up in the same place as Claire.

She’s home safe and sound - “home safe”, he repeats over and over in his head - but he can’t get his brain and body to sync up.

He knows it's all irrational, but he feels lightyears away from safe.

His fingers grip the top of his thighs, pressing down hard and deep as his breaths come in choppy and labored through his nose, jaw clenched up tight.

He knows what’s happening, but it makes little difference in stopping it. His mother used to call it "emociones fuertes" when he was a child, but he hasn’t had a true one in years - really not since living with Claire.

“Stop it Miller, Stop it.” He grates, trying to find something to focus on to push away the feelings of overwhelm. His eyes land on the only thing in view, the parking sign at the head of his spot, and he traces the number 12 over and over again with his eyes.

Down, around, across, over. Down, around, across, over.

Failing to find relief, he takes a long breath in and collapses forward, forehead pushing into the top of the wheel as he closes his eyes hoping the sparkly specks and blurry colors behind them will be a better distraction. Instead, his mom’s voice comes drifting through his head, a brief vision of her flashing behind his eyelids: "Mira, mira, mijo, mira a mí. Inspira - uno, dos. Suelta - uno, dos."

He does what she says.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

He repeats over and over again.

When he peels himself up and away after an undeterminable amount of minutes, his eyes first go to his rearview mirror and catch Sarah’s car seat, and then go to his dashboard and land on the green numbers of the clock. It reads 10:27, just like the placard on her bassinet at the hospital - a strange coincidence that has his anxiety twitching, threatening to come back in full for no apparent reason.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

He cracks open his car door, but almost slams it shut - a roaring sound of buzzing cicadas wafting into the car. He holds his breath and pauses, hand not even off the door handle. He waits and waits for her to start fussing and crying -bugs should make babies cry right?- but Sarah stays quiet, blissfully asleep.

And she remains that way by some small miracle as he detaches her car seat and locks the car with a loud resonant chirp.

The flight of stairs up to the apartment is taken at a sloth's pace, anchoring both of his feet into each concrete step and pausing before moving on to the next, all while holding the car seat fiercely level with two hands as if the slightest dip will have her slipping out.

When he reaches his front door, he does everything in his power to minimize the sway of her seat as he shifts to hold her with one hand and muffle the jingle of the keys as he unlocks it, petrified of waking her.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

With a creak, it falls open and an unexpected, staticky voice from a distance halts him on the threshold. His eyes track the sound to a very faint blue glow in the far corner and the realization hits harder than it should - TV’s still on, left unattended in the rush this morning.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

Shaking his head, Joel sighs heavily and steps inside. His gaze flits to the light switch but then back to his hands glued firmly to the car seat, and decides not to engage with it, forgoing the juggle it would take to get them turned on. The door closes with a push of his heel, and the apartment entry plunges into darkness.

A jolt of panic rips up through him as he stumbles, feet tripping up on something on the floor. He catches himself in a rush of awkward steps, and looks back to see the culprit. Squinting against the dark the outline of Claire’s backpack comes into view.

Swallowing hard, he tears his gaze away, focusing on getting Sarah settled.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

Embarrassingly, his arms are already aching, and that makes his heart pound with worry, fearing somehow they will just give out without his permission. It’s maybe only ten steps, but it feels like he is crossing the entire length of the small apartment as he rushes to put her down.

But then she’s on the coffee table and he finally lets out a real breath.

Fumbling in the dark, he attempts to flip down the car seat handle, hands blindly feeling out the button, but he can’t get it to budge. “Okay, baby girl, okay,” he coos in a whisper as Sarah begins to let out the tiniest mewls as her resting place is disturbed. Promptly, he removes his hands holding them up until she settles.

He steps back, pauses, then scrambles to find the remote control and flips off the TV, pushing the space into stark silence.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

With a deep sigh, he sinks into the couch in front of her. A sliver from a street light outside slips through a small opening in a window curtain, hitting her car seat at just the right angle. The orange hue brightens up the darkness just enough for Joel to see her small little face as she settles back into sleep.

It should make him feel better, being able to see her, but the more he stares, the more anxiety fills his body.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

He isn’t supposed to be doing this alone.

Twisting his watch band back and forth, his mind races with all the things he doesn’t know, all the things he’s going to have to learn, and everything he has to do. He grates his molars together as the list grows and grows.

He’s going to fail at this.

He is going to fail her.

His chest is feeling tight again, and his breaths are coming in choppy no matter how many times he tries to coach himself into breathing. Desperate for relief, his hand leaves his watch and goes to rub it against his sternum. It’s an unseasonably cool day by Austin standards for July, but the apartment is starting to feel unbearably hot and all too small. His shirt is growing wet, sweat making it uncomfortably cling to his body, and he wants to just rip off the constricting material and get out of this too-small space, and run away.

But that idea hurts his heart more than helps. An image of her alone in the dark stabs at his insides and aggravates all the dread swirling inside him.

He stands abruptly and crosses to the window, bats at the curtain to push it aside, and cracks it open to let in some of the night's cooler air.

The sounds of the city at night drift in - a car alarm in the distance, the low hum of traffic, and of course, the buzz of the summertime cicadas. He leans against the wall next to the window, allowing the slight breeze to cool his face as he listens.

He didn’t realize how suffocating the silence was until his heart rate slowed and his lungs grew lighter as he basked in the distant rumble of Austin. Back in the hospital, there had always been a constant backdrop of sounds—machines beeping, footsteps, conversations - all a distraction for his brain to digest instead. When it’s too quiet there is nothing to keep his anxious thoughts at bay.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

He could stay standing in the spot all night long- fall asleep upright - but his heart is tugging him in a different direction after just a couple of minutes. Feeling more steady, he pushes off the wall and goes back over to Sarah, already worried he’s done something wrong by taking his eyes off her for just a few moments.

When he settles in next to her this time, it's on the floor beside the coffee table, wanting to be as close as possible. He leans his head on the wood table top as he gently reaches inside her car seat and lays his hand atop her stomach.

Feeling every one of her tiny inhales and exhales calms some of his nerves, but doesn’t wash away all his fears. He pushes himself to match her breathing.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

*** ʚїɞ ***

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. And he certainly doesn’t remember moving off the scratchy rug on the floor to the old green tweed couch, but he has.

His eyes snap open as the sound of her wails jolt him awake, body jerking and almost tumbling off the side, back to the floor where he thought he had been.

Still dark, his eyes take a long moment to adjust, only seeing the outline of her car seat and her squirmy body, while his brain also races to catch up with his sudden awakening.

But then her small little body emerges from the dark, pushing against the confines of her seat, and he’s dropping to his knees infront of the coffee table in an instant. His hands make quick work of unclipping her buckles, but come to a slow as they reach inside for her - making sure his big clumsy hands are delicate and careful with her as they slip under her tiny arms and around her back, pointer fingers nestling at the base of her head as Judy had aptly shown him.

The moment she is free, her body curls into a tight ball, knees drawn to her chest. Her face mirrors, scrunched tightly as she cries, eyes squeezed shut and mouth wide open, her tiny chin trembling with each wail.

"Shh, baby girl, I got ya," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep and laden with worry. Carefully, he draws her close against his chest, rocking gently as he kneels on the floor. His hand sweeps down her back in a soft caress, followed by a tender pat, repeating the process in a rhythmic lull. But it does nothing to soothe her.

Her cries continue to pierce through the silence of the apartment, and each sob compounding the worry and anxiousness filling up his gut.

One of them is shaking - he’s really not sure which one - but as her cries persist and stab into his ears, he thinks it might be him more than her.

“C’mon, Sarah, tell me what’s wrong,” he pleads softly as he slowly rises to stand with her.

Pacing the room, he rocks her gently, his lips pressed to her forehead in a silent plea for calm. "Shhh, it's alright, nothing to cry about," he murmurs, the words meant as much for himself as for her.

It’s a little startling how easily her tears have triggered his own. They slip down his face in one hot wet line, and he feels horrible for allowing them to drip onto the crown of her head, but he can’t move his hands away from holding her to brush them out of his eyes and off his face.

“Please stop cryin’.”

The cries only swell.

The ring and echo in his ears, muddling his thoughts into a desperate slurry of “please stop.” He hates himself for it, but he places her back in the car seat, digs the heels of his hands against his eyes the moment they are unburdened, and groans hard in frustration.

“Wet, hungry, tired. That’s all you got to figure out, capiche?” Judy had told him.

He repeats it now, despite his doubts about the simplicity: “Wet, hungry, tired.”

Gritting his teeth, he wipes the back of his hand to his eyes, clearing away the tears, and carries her to the kitchen - not exactly sure why, it just feels right.

The tiles are cool under his bare feet and the overhead sconce flickers before coming alive and bathing the space in a soft yellow light.

He pauses with her in the carrier, looking at the mess of spilled breakfast still on the table, and the minuscule space of countertop that barely can fit a pan on a good day. He taps his hand against his thigh as he thinks about his options, but her cries are like a timer pushing him to make a decision.

They hadn’t gotten around to setting up her crib yet or a changing station of some sort, and the space seems the only feasible option for them right now.

So the floor it is.

He drops to the ground with her, tugging down two dish towels looped over the oven handle as he descends. A faint odor of rancid milk and soggy cereal wafts up from the tiles, leading his gaze to the shards of a broken bowl scattered beneath the table, remnants of this morning's chaos. He contemplates moving, but her cries are growing louder. Wincing, he pushes the stench to the back of his mind, and then with an exacerbated exhale that puffs out his cheeks, he wipes his forearm across the floor, checking for bits of bowl. When he feels none, he lays out the two towels atop each other like a little mat, hoping to provide her some comfort.

“Please stop cryin’, please Sarah I'm tryin’,” he whispers as he finds the snaps on her onesie - a powder pink and thin cotton thing given from the hospital, plain as can be. “Please baby girl I'm tryin’,” he begs softly against her hard cries that echo and bounce off the tiny kitchen, growing in strength each time they ricochet into his ears.

But his quick work is all for nothing, cause he straightens up on his knees and realizes he has forgotten the most crucial bit - a diaper.

His heart sinks and he lets out a dejected rumble at the realization of where it’s at. The hospital had handed him a 'goody bag for dad,' as one nurse had cheerfully put it, filled with enough supplies to last until he could make a proper store run. Grateful, he had nonetheless tossed it onto the floor of the passenger seat, his mind too preoccupied with other things to pay it any attention, until now.

Sitting back on his haunches, he contemplates a quick dash to retrieve it, but the thought of leaving her alone, even for a minute, claws at him.

With a resigned sigh, he bundles her back into the car seat - forgoing her onesie - it’s warm, it will just be a minute. Cursing under his breath, he heads to the car with her in tow.

The journey downstairs and back is torturous, each step deliberate, trying not to jostle her too much and worsen her cries. The thud of his heart pounds in his ears, synchronizing with each of her sobs.

He’s not sure if it's just the contrast of sounds, but it seems quieter out than before, and he wonders how late into the night or how early into the morning it actually is. He bites his lip with a grimace as they pass the neighbor’s door, Sarah of course letting out a particularly loud wail right in front, certainly disturbing their sleep. If he wasn’t already feeling guilty, that surely sealed it. He makes a mental note to send them an apology, as he come back inside to the apartment and drop the bag onto the kitchen floor.

With a deep breath, he resets, and begins the process again.

It’s his second time ever changing a diaper and it’s no better than the first horrid attempt at the hospital. Somehow the sticky side wings bunch up together and pulling them apart ruins the whole thing, tearing at the materials and making it wholly unusable. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes at the mistake, chucking the collateral damage of his inexperience far across the kitchen as she continues to cry and cry.

Things bode better with the second diaper, satisfaction flicking across Joel’s face as he fastens up the last snap of her onesie and her cries recede.

But the quiet is short-lived, gone before he can even sigh in relief. She starts to whimper and then they escalate into another bout of full-on cries, face scrunching up in discomfort.

She really does have a set of lungs on her.

"Alright, not wet, then. Hungry, huh?" He asks scooping her up into his arms as he debates what to do. He eyes the carrier and then settles Sarah back into it, standing with her in the middle of the kitchen for a long moment. It seems like the only safe place to have her when he’s up and moving.

“Hungry, we can fix that, just we gotta -,” he narrates as he takes a long stride forward to the counter. He attempts to place her on it, but the top of her carrier hits the underside and cabinet, preventing him from doing so.

Shit.

He fumbles momentarily, trying to figure out where to put her, to finally deciding on the sink. The stainless steel double bowled sink was something they used to make fun of, size out of place in the rest of the tiny apartment, but he’s never been more thankful for it now. Her carrier balances perfectly on one of the sides, resting atop like a colander would.

He lets his hands go from it hesitantly, murmuring, “Okay, just stay there,” as he slowly backs away to retrieve the brown bag of supplies from the floor.

“We’ll get you a bottle then,” he tells her, throwing the words over his shoulder as if she can understand. Her reply is only more piercing sobs.

His hands are shaky as he pulls out the formula and a bottle and he can’t help but stare at them with wide eyes as they linger in the palms of his hands. The transfixion breaks at the sound of a particularly rattled shriek that claws up from her throat.

He carries the supplies back to the counter and instinctively reaches into his pocket. Relief washes over him as he finds the small piece of paper he stashed there hours ago still safe. Carefully, he pulls it out and smooths the crinkled paper against the countertop edge.

“Can I write this down?”

“Sure thing, let’s um - here,” Judy offered, ripping out a blank form from a chart, flipping it over to a blank white back, and passing it to him with a click of a pen.

It’s his writing, but it’s barely recognizable chicken scratch.

Reading the instructions aloud to himself, his voice is hesitant and shaky, but he tries to ground himself in the steps, eyes casting over to Sarah every other second.

Her face is red and glistens, soaked in tears.

He can’t help but tell her, “workin’ as fast as I can baby,” as he lowers his head down to the bottle and makes sure he is pouring the exact amount of water into the measuring line. The formula tin opens with a scratchy metallic sound as he tears away the top. His fingers dig inside for the scoop - he made a note that Judy said it likes to hide - and when they find reach it he quickly uses the plastic shovel to ladle the powder into the tiny bottle.

It’s not a particularly clean process - rushing, excess powder spills onto the counter every time he taps the scoop to the lid of the bottle to get the formula in. He probably should be more careful with it, but Sarah’s screaming for him to hurry.

He slides infront of her as he shakes the bottle, using his free hand to wipe away the tears drenching her cheeks.

“Almost there, almost there,” he coos half to Sarah, half to himself, as he clings to small talk as if the words could bridge the gap between panic and calm while gently rocking her seat.

Raising the bottle toward the ceiling, he uses the light to check the formula is all dispersed and seeing it is, he turns quickly to offer it to her, and the nipple grazes her mouth her pulls it back quickly.

He forgot to warm it.

Quickly, he flips the faucet handle up and over, hot as it can go, and holds the bottle under the stream. The heat begins to sting his hand, but he holds it steady and waits for the warmth to seep into the milk.

Sarah’s cries lull to a sputter, and her tense expression eases into a prolonged frown.

There is only one thing that’s changed:

“You like the water huh?” he asks glancing back and forth between the tap and her face.

As he holds it under, the redness in her face fades begins to fade, and a tentative smile begins to form on Joel's lips. "You know, your momma loved the water," he distantly murmurs, watching her visibly relax.

With the rush of the faucet filling her ears, Sarah stops crying abates, and he slips the bottle out from under it.

“You get that from her.”

It’s a melancholy whisper that he knows she can’t understand, but he hopes it somehow it roots in her heart like his. Catching a glimpse of Claire in her - getting a reminder that she still is her daughter too, and not just his, has a certain type of flutter kicking in his heart.

He tests the temperature on his wrist like Judy showed and, then hesitantly takes a sip himself just to double check—it’s lukewarm at best, but it will have to do. He keeps the soothing rush of the tap on for her as he gently slips the bottle into her mouth. When she takes it without protest, his shoulders droop, relief washing over him. He watches her drink, the soft rhythmic sounds of her sucking mixing in with the white noise of the water beside her.

"There you go, baby girl. That’s it," he murmurs, a smile blooming full into his cheeks.

He’s not sure what does, but suddenly he’s feeling like nothing can go wrong.

As she takes the bottle at a chug, her plump cheeks rise and fall, appearing even fuller and irresistibly adorable. Her long eyelashes, mirroring the rich brown mop of hair atop her head, flutter gently as she settles more comfortably. And even after crying her little head off, remnants of her screams and tears still clearly on her face, he can’t help but think that she is one of the most beautiful babies out there.

Which isn’t a surprise cause she looks like Claire and she was one of the most beautiful people out there.

"We can do this," he whispers.

*** ʚїɞ ***

“3 weeks from baby!”

The small little calendar magnet stares him down. His eyes are glassy and bloodshot from a night gone without sleep, but he holds its gaze harshly. Gently swaying, Sarah rest against his chest, her tiny form curled securely in his grasp.

He’s not sure what to do with it.

Never once has he changed it - it was Claire’s thing - and it still feels like her thing- but the morning light peaking through the crusty blinds in the kitchen is hitting it perfectly, spotlighting it in a warm glow, and it just feels like the world is telling him to fix it.

He stops his sway, coming to a slow as he heaves a sigh. With one hand, he carefully removes the magnet, flips it to the last page, jostles it in the air as the thin pages catch on the cheap spiral binding, and slaps it back onto the fridge.

“Baby is here!”

It’s up for all of three seconds before it flies across the kitchen.

It clangs against the metal sink, sliding down with a scrape, and settling ominously at the bottom drain.

Fixed somehow feels infinitely worse than wrong.

Sarah stirs, a soft whimper breaking through as she senses his tension. He exhales slowly, relaxing his clenched jaw, and resumes his gentle sway, hoping to soothe both her and himself.

Now, the black fridge door hosts only a lone neon butterfly magnet, its wings pinning a small card beneath them - a phone number, an address, and an army insignia.

His heart moves from somewhere beneath Sarah to the floor.

Tommy.

He had been gone most of the summer at basic training, and at the start of his ten weeks, Claire had put up the address to make sure she knew where to send his letters. They were two kindred spirits, the same type of recklessness and bubble - her little brother just as much as his.

He never asked what was in the letters she sent, but he’s certain Claire was keeping Tommy up to date with her pregnancy, especially because in his own letters from Tommy, he would be nagged about not buying Claire enough chocolate-covered pretzels and salt n’ vinegar chips- her two favorite snack cravings.

He deserves to know.

Plucking the card from the fridge, Joel shuffles over to the wall-mounted phone, the cord stretching and coiling like a reluctant snake. He sinks into a kitchen chair, cradling Sarah more snugly as he dials the number, each press of the button sharper than necessary. Calling during training isn’t really a thing - “only write me” Tommy had explained once, but this isn’t something that could wait. After an agonizing series of redirects and brief conversations with faceless operators, his brother’s familiar voice finally crackles through the speaker.

“Joel? Everythin’ alright?” He asks immediately.

His eyes are on Sarah, balanced in his arm supported up by a bent leg in a figure four. His foot is wiggling anxiously, but she seems to like the motion as it vibrates up his leg. “She’s here” is what is at the tip of his tongue, fighting to come out, but that’s barely half the truth.

The feeling like he is about to spread a lie is back, guilt settling heavily in his chest. He can’t find the words to say Claire is gone.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

“Joel? You there brother?” Tommy presses again.

His eyes drift up to the butterfly on the fridge and suddenly the truth is tumbling out in a hurried stream, details of the past day pouring out so quickly he barely catches his breath. He’s not even sure he says it all in the right order, and he knows the sprinkles of things the doctor said, and mentions of Claire’s parents, as well as his laments about not having anything ready, probably don’t help with clarity either. By the time he finishes, the phone is pressed hard against his ear, digging into the cartilage to an uncomfortable extent and the acidic taste from yesterday is peaking into his mouth from the top of his throat.

For a long moment there is only the echo of Joel’s winded breath.

In - one, two. Out - one, two.

“Hermano,” Tommy sighs, breathy air pushing into the phone and transmitting as a loud crackle in Joel’s ear. The static subsides back into silence, and both are unsure of what to say.

“Brother I’m s -,” he begins, only to stop to shush some ruckus in the background of his line, “I’m goin’ to request some leave - come home, be there by day after next.”

“That ain’t -“ Joel begins to protest, but Tommy cuts him off.

“-don’t start with that, I’m comin’, this is family.”

His eyes wander down to the bundle in his arms, and immediately they well up with tears. He sniffs them away - no time for that, he chastises himself - and nods his head before letting it fall back, gaze turning up toward the blotchy ceiling, letting gravity take care of the rest of the water pooling in his eyes.

“Joel?” Tommy asks against the prolonged quiet, voice tugging him back from the brink of tears. He comes back to attention, clearing away the tightness growing in his throat with a closed-mouth cough.

“Yeah sorry.. I’ll see ya’ day after tomorrow then.”

“Day after tomorrow,” Tommy parrots, almost absently, trailing off with another despondent sigh. “Howaw is he?”

“He?” Joel pauses, confusion wrinkling his brow.

“Your son.”

“Oh,” Joel says with a small snort, a hint of a smile forming. He wedges the phone into the space between his ear and shoulder, and holds it firm in place as he readjusts Sarah. She’s starting to wake, lips twitching up and little eyes fluttering. He gently brushes his pinky down her soft cheek.

“Well you ain’t goin’ to believe this, but he’s a she.”

“A girl?”

“Yeah, a girl…Sarah.”

Sarah who looks like Claire with beautiful brown eyes and thick hair, and loves the water like her mama. Sarah who has a sweet little gurgle but cries like a coyote cause she’s strong and knows what she wants. Sarah who has been with him topside less then a day, but has already made his heart grow two sizes bigger.

“Well I’ll be dammed..baby girl Miller...ain’t that somethin’.”

She is. She really is.

#tlou #the last of us #tlou fic #tipsy bison #ao3 fanfic #joel miller #joel and sarah #sarah miller #oc #Claire Miller #tommy miller #Joel becomes a dad #Dad Joel #my fic #my writing #Next of Kin #sad stories #sad shit #single parent Joel

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