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m-ilkiee · 3 months ago

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Monsters: Mikey Sano x Reader x Izana Kurokawa

Chapter 2: Shots Fired

series summary: your grievous sin was Emma standing up for you to her brothers. and now you’re going to pay the heavy price for destroying their perfect family dynamic.

chapter summary: Izana Kurokawa demands your attention and he doesn’t take no for an answer. Not even when his demands are outrageous.

cw: DARK CONTENT, MISOGYNY, NSFW, r*pe mention, religious guilt, depictions of PTSD and CPTSD, emotional incest, abandoment issues, violence, revenge porn, depression, filming without consent, drugging, implied domestic abuse, victim blaming, blackmailing, manipulation, gaslighting, mind break, psychological torture, use of firearms

r-18+ (not suitable for 17 and under)

wc: 11.6k

[masterlist] [chapter 1] [chapter 3] [taglist]

a/n: likes are nice, comments and reblogs with comments are superior, anons are also superior too and would make me update faster cause it means people like what i write. this chapter takes an entirely different turn from the old story, some scenes are similar but the context is different. i host polls after this so stay tuned. Edit 02/11/2024: this chapter's end has been edited and changed. I've indicated the edited point, so that you could skip other parts to read it. Thank you.

YOU haven’t been able to stay asleep for the past few days.

It’s easy to fall asleep after a hard and stressful day at school and your part-time job. Your limbs ache from all the walking and lugging a bookbag far heavier than what you could handle -since all your e-textbooks were on your (now destroyed) laptop and phones were not allowed during lectures. And working from 5pm until 9pm at a restaurant, serving food to rude, overbearing customers only to be paid in pieces was another added stress in itself.

Not to mention, studying until the words are bleary and just looking at a book hurts your eyes.

But then, in all your dreams, everything you’ve pushed to the back of your memory is at the forefront. Your dream starts typically, your normal school day, waking up, dressing in your cute little blue crop sweater and jean skirt with socks. You go to classes, and then you see Mikey’s car waiting for Emma.

Things take a different turn. He’s the one getting out of the car to meet you. It’s like a siren call, him holding out his hand for you to take despite someone screaming for you to stop. You try to reject him, try to run away like the voice said but you end up getting trapped. This time, he’s not using his hands. He’s fully sheathed inside you, robbing you of the thing you hold so dear while you kick, bite and claw at him until you wake up screaming, sweat soaked all over your sheets.

You consistently dream of being violently raped by Manjiro Sano.

The next few hours until sunrise were equally horrible. You’re quietly sobbing into your pillows, praying to God to forgive you for letting Mikey touch you in the first place, assuming your reason for having such dreams was God’s divine judgement for your grievous sin. You’ve lost count on how many Bible verses you stay up reading until your eyes are bleary and the sun comes up.

No matter how much you pray and how many times you recite psalms 127 before you sleep, you can never escape Mikey in the world of dreams. He’s a virus that has invaded your thoughts, corrupting every dream you had and twisted them into nightmares.

You don’t know how long you can hold on being this sleep deprived. It’s been impairing your school life, trying to find a way to stay awake during classes only for you to fall asleep and miss the rest of it. Even when you got notes from the person next to you, reading them was always difficult because your eyes hurt so much.

Work was even more taxing and stressful, rush week adding more stress than you could ever imagine. You found yourself spacing out more than usual when you were supposed to be taking orders. You were unable to keep up with the fast paced environment, your body feeling like a ton of bricks with every moment you make. Your eyes were heavy lidded, tired from forcing them open throughout the day.

You were so, so tired-

“Hello! Are you sleeping on me young lady?” A voice snapped at you.

Your eyes shot open and immediately you stood back straight. You must have been dozing off while taking the older lady’s order -the very thing you’ve been trying to avoid all day long. “No, not at all Ms-” you started to explain. “-I was just … what was your order aga-”

You flinched when the woman angrily slammed her fist on the table, shutting you up instantly! “So you were sleeping on the job! What kind of establishment allows this?” She screamed, attracting the attention of customers around. “I need to speak to your manager. NOW!”

You instantly began to panic at the mention of your manager. If he heard any of this, he was definitely going to fire you. You cannot afford to lose this job right now, with all your school expenses and saving up money for next session’s tuition.

“No mam!” you begged, keeping your voice even as you tried to reason with her. “Th-there’s no need for that! Please! Let me take your order and I’ll-” you racked your brain for an excuse, knowing fully well your establishment does not offer free meals. “- I’ll pay for your meal! On me-”

“So you’re trying to imply I’m poor?” She interrupted you again, her tempo even higher than before. “You disrespectful little wretch! How dare you? GET ME YOUR MANAGER RIGHT NOW!”

You started begging the older woman, trying to calm her down and de-escalate the situation, but each plea only fuelled her rage. By now, every customer, every employee and just anyone in that place watched you grovel and beg this woman to calm down, some people even videoing your altercation. Your body was trembling as she screeched in your ears, calling you all sorts of names while you relentlessly apologised to her.

“What is going on here?”

You winced at the sound of your manager’s voice emerging from the backrooms. You stood stiffly as he walked to your side, using his shoulder to nudge you out of the way. “Is there something wrong Ms.?” He asked the lady. “What happened?”

“This little wretch!” She practically screeched at you, her finger wagging straight at your hung face. “She was sleeping while I was ordering! And when I pointed it out to her calmly, she called me a hag!”

Your eyes snapped open. You can tolerate people yelling at you, but lying is out of the question. “I did not call you anything! That’s a lie-”

“You be quiet!” Your manager yelled at you, silencing you. He turned to face the woman again, apologising profusely for your so called rude behaviour. “I promise you mam, she will be dealt with accordingly. Your order is in the house, please take that as a token of our humble apology and forgive us.”

You stood there in shock as the woman smirked satisfactorily at her now free meal. “Well, you better get rid of her!” She snarked, eyes scanning you up and down, plopping back down on her seat. “Or you’ll lose me as a patron.”

“Of course mam.” He said sweetly before switching his countenance towards you into a more irritated one. “You, come with me.”

You lowered your head once again in disappointment as you started following your manager towards the back rooms, your head lowered in shame as the eyes followed your every move to your damnation waiting for you in the manager’s office.

Your skin crawled as you felt his penetrating gaze on you, as if judging you. “You know how many complaints I have received this week just from you, (name)? How many orders you’ve messed up?”

You shook your head no in response, not trusting yourself to say anything reasonable at this point. He eyes you up and down again before scoffing at you rudely. “I only let you stay here because you said you were desperate for a job. But apparently, you’re not even bothered enough to keep it.” He spat out. “Unfortunately for you, this is the end of the road for you here. Change out of your uniform and leave.”

“But s-”

“I said you’re FIRED. GET OUT.”

You sighed weakly, obeying your now ex-manager’s order and leaving the office. You ignored the eyes of everyone watching you exchange the too tight black jeans and green top uniform back to your white bohemian skirt and light blue top with your white jacket. Calmly, you packed your school bag and everything you owned with you and slung it over your shoulder, replacing the uniform back to the locker, dropping the key on top.

No one said goodbye to you as you left through the back door.

IZANA knows it's creepy to be waiting for Emma just outside her college, but it's not like he has a choice when she keeps ignoring any method he uses to contact her.

Mindlessly, he fiddled with his lighter with his back on the wall of the English department building and an unlit cigarette between his lips. Purple eyes scanned the people leaving the building one by one, hoping to find a mop of golden hair amongst the students. His hopes rose with each blond he saw, only for him to deflate when he realised they weren't her.

A few minutes passed and still no sign of Emma. Deciding that he didn’t want to stand around and gape, Izana lifted his lighter towards his cigarette, flicking the light twice and bringing the warm flame to his lips. Breathing in the familiar scent of nicotine, smoke filled his lungs as he tucked the lighter back in his pockets. His free hand took the cigarette from his lips and he exhaled, releasing plumes of smoke from his lips.

His smoking habit had gotten worse within the past week. Izana couldn’t help it, reaching for a light anytime he saw his gifts in the dustbin. Emma hasn’t been this angry at him before. Usually a new plushie was enough to wash his sins clean, no matter how grevious they were. Now, not even the most expensive shoes she’s been eyeing for months could satiate her anger.

All because of you.

Izana knows his little sister like the back of his hand. Like how she loved sleeping with plushies because it comforted her whenever their mother brought her gambling friends into the house and they were loud. Or how he picked up a guitar to learn multiple barbie songs because their mother had destroyed Emma’s CD that he bought with his money to punish her. He knew she liked warm tea during her periods and gentle back rubs to ease her pain. He’s not the best person to be around, with how fucked over he was by life until Shinichiro gave him purpose but he loved his sister a lot and everything he did was to protect her. Life hardened him, made him so jaded that the only thin thread connecting him to his humanity was Emma and he’d do anything to protect his humanity.

Only to watch it slip through his fingers.

First it was Mikey’s stupid friend, Ken Ryugi, who waltzed his way into Emma’s life. Izana didn’t like him one bit- didn’t like how Emma would bite her lip, waiting for him to reply and cry herself to sleep when he didn’t. Her heart was soft, fragile and that brute tore it apart by telling her he wasn’t interested in a relationship yet.

The only reason Ken wasn’t in an unmarked, shallow grave in the middle of nowhere was simply because Mikey was involved.

Now it is you, taking the space in her life that belonged to him and Mikey. You’re pushing both of them out of the equation, threatening their position in their sister’s life and everything they know.

Izana wonders how someone so insignificant was so important to Emma that she was willing to cut communications with her own brothers. It baffles him beyond understanding and at the same time enrages him that she could trust you so easily. That she was willing to turn against him in your name.

He took more puffs, skimming throughout the campus for any sight of her. It didn’t matter how he felt about it, as Kisaki had convinced him to ask Emma and you to go shopping, just to get back into Emma's good graces again. Apparently doing a nice gesture publicly for you would convince their sister to give them another chance again.

Especially because Izana had been the biggest opposition to their friendship.

“But Mikey was a little shit about them too.” he grumbles underneath his breath, cigarette in hand. “Why do I have to be the one to apologise? And why did Mikey get an out while I’m doing all the heavy lift-”

His thoughts were cut short the second he caught sight of a familiar blonde hair bouncing in the wind and stood up straight, tossing the cigarette to the floor and crushing it underneath his black shoes, before rushing to catch up to his little sister.

Izana pushed through the throng of people, violently shoving anyone that got in his way until he finally fell in step with her, slowing down to match her pace. Without wasting time, his hand curled around the girl’s wrist, stopping her in her tracks instantly and earning a shocked gasp escaped her lips.

“Get off me - Izana?”

Her free hand was fast to hit him, but her head was faster in turning around, only to recognize it was just Izana. Her hand stopped inches away from the smirking male’s face, the tension leaving her body and relief taking its place. It doesn’t last long, though as irritation suddenly crawls on her face, instantly displeased at his actions. “What the hell? I’ve told you to stop doing that.” she hissed at him.

A mischievous grin made its way to his face at Emma’s irritation. She always had a pout whenever she was angry at him and it made look even more adorable.

“Were you scared?” He teased, pulling Emma closer to him until she was practically smushed at his side, despite the glare she gave him in response. “You know no one would dare touch you.”

“Get off me. Your breath stinks like nicotine, I thought you said you quit smoking that shit.”

Ignoring Emma’s last question, he decided to change the topic. “Your lapdog isn't here with you?” he asked. Usually, you would be hovering behind her like a damn pest, so you not being around her was rather strange.

Emma is quick to shove him off lightly, putting some distance between the two of them, clearly still mad at him. "(Name)'s not feeling well, so she didn't come to class today. I'm on my way to get her medicine."

Oh, that's a surprise.

But with you out of the way, Izana could finally have Emma all to himself for today and hang out with his beloved sister. Maybe even make up for the party thing without apologising to you. Without you here, it’s likely Emma isn’t as mad at the whole situation and is playing it up to make you feel like you have someone on your side.

He knows you’re not going to protest if Emma says she’s in talking terms with her brothers again. It’s a win-win situation and he doesn’t have to grovel or ask for forgiveness for some joke that went wrong.

"So that means we can hang out?"

"Excuse me?"

"You don't have to keep pretending you're still mad at me now that she isn't here." He spews the 'she' with so much venom it could kill, before switching up with a sick grin, his hand stretched out. "We can go to Vivienne Westwood and get that Saturn necklace you like, what do you say?"

His words hung in the air as Emma trailed her pointed glare from his hand, back to his cheerful visage. She crossed her arms in response slowly, her yellow eyes burning holes into his face as her lips curled into a sick sneer.

“Are you insane?”

“What?”

“Don’t ‘what?’ me Izana! I just told you (name)'s ill and you're asking me to go with you to shop at Vivienne westwood? Are you nuts?”

Emma’s voice was loud enough to garner wandering eyes of other by-standers, watching the event go down. Izana kept his composure, despite his bubbling irritation beneath the surface of his skin, with a smile -albeit stiffer than before. ‘She’s just being emotional’ Izana whispered to himself, still trying to be rational. ‘Just take it easy with her’

“Oh come on, should I care about her-"

"You should be begging her to forgive you for what you did to her that night!"

"You can't still be mad at me for that shit that happened two weeks ago. And besides, it's not my fault she couldn't take a joke” his words were smooth, buttery, flowing out of his lips like it was the truth, digging his own grave. “I didn’t know your friend was that sensitive-”

“Are you listening to the bullshit coming from your mouth?” Emma roared, her voice echoing throughout the entirety of the department, her face red with fury. Izana had never seen his own beloved sister ever look at him with such disgust in her eyes, her teeth gnashing against each other and hands at her side, clenching against each other. “Is that what you think a joke sounds like?”

“Calm the fuck dow-”

“No wonder you’re fucking single, you’re such a piece of shit to anyone that isn’t Shinichiro!” Emma screamed, interrupting Izana once again, her temper fiery enough to burn a hole on the ground she stood with how heated she was. “How does anyone even stand you for so long? You’re unbearable!”

“Excuse m-”

He doesn’t like where the conversation is going, with how furious Emma was right now. He tried to raise a comforting hand to Emma’s shoulder to ease her tension but she was quick to smack it away from her hard, stinging his fingers a little.

“You’re so unpleasant, how do you even have any friends? How do they tolerate you? To think (name) wanted me to forgive you! Thank god you aren’t my fucking brother, I can’t imagine being anything like you!”

The words left her mouth before she could stop herself.

It was as if the world froze over for Izana. He stood there, wide eyed, his heart beating loudly in his chest as all the voices around him faded into the background. His hand extended weakly at his side, mouth drying up as a lump formed in his throat.

“I-I-i" she starts to stutter. It’s obvious that she can recognize what she had just said as he blankly stared at her. "I didn't mean i-”

He doesn’t let her finish, turning on his heel and walking away as fast as possible. People were quick to clear out of his way, not wanting to be his target of aggression. Emma followed behind, instantly, shouting his name at the top of her lungs followed with strings of apologies.

“Izana, wait please-” she screamed from the crowd of people, tears streaming from her yellow eyes. He continued to ignore her as he hopped on his bike, sliding in the key and revving up the engine before she could reach him.

Izana zoomed away, turning Emma’s cries into background noise, her words repeating in his head.

“I didn’t mean it! I’M SORRY-”

YOU don't know which was worse, the feeling of helplessness that came with the reality of your life crashing before your very eyes or the splitting headache you've developed after crying in your room for a week straight. Laying on your bed all day, huddled up in a blanket and sobbing uncontrollably was unhealthy, but it was all you found the strength to do these days.

In all your years of being alive, you've never felt this pathetic. Not when you would be pushed outside in the pouring rain if you made a mistake in making dinner, or had been beaten with a belt in front of Yuzhua and Hakkai because you failed your catechism test. You could protect yourself from your brothers when they got violent. You could run and hide when your dad was really angry and wanted to take it out on you.

Unfortunately, no one told you what to do when your life is falling apart.

Ever since that day, you couldn't find the strength to go to class or do anything for that matter. It was like your entire energy was sucked out of you, leaving your body an empty husk with nothing left to give.

You only have yourself to blame.

You drag the blankets closer to your body, sniffling a bit. The worst part of all of this is that after this month, if you don’t find a job that pays you quickly, you are going to be broke. It’s times like this that makes you regret leaving your family. You know it’s wishful thinking, but you wonder if you would be forgiven assuming you return home in tears and repentant of your sin of disobedience like the prodigal son in the bible. Life is too hard to live in the outside world without the help and guidance of a parent. You miss your old life, with your own bed and guaranteed food, as long as you did as you were told. You miss how sometimes your parents took you and your siblings to eat out after church.

You miss your mother. You want to go back to her. Life is hard, and dealing with being jobless with nowhere to turn to is harder. You could ask Emma, but she’s already taking care of you and there was no way you would bother your friend about your money problems.

"Hey babes, I got the medicine for you."

Emma's soft voice rouses you out of your self-pity session. The wood creaks underneath her heels as she walks to your bed and takes a seat besides you, the mattress dipping underneath her weight. The scent of her Vivienne Westwood wafting through your nostrils fills you with a sense of warmth, familiarity and at the same time, dread.

You feel guilty. Perhaps it's because you don't know how to tell Emma what exactly is wrong with you. It's easier to give her the half-truth that you caught a stomach bug than say everything. If you even as much as hinted that Manjiro had something to do with the real reason you were a sobbing mess on your bed, you're sure she would overreact and fight with her brothers again.

But still, not telling her meant you were keeping secrets from her. Something you both promised not to ever do as you two became best-friends.

‘It’s for her own good.’ you try to justify it. ‘It’s better I keep my mouth shut.’

Pushing that thought at the back of your mind, you roll over to her direction, pulling down your blanket just a little bit to see her properly. Your heart drops at the sadness etched onto Emma’s face, a forlorn look in her eyes. You hated seeing her down, yet all you’ve been doing for the past few months since you came into her life was causing her pain. You know how it feels to lose family, no matter how bad they were to you and Emma is no different.

“Hey”

Your voice is hoarse from your constant crying, but Emma doesn’t mention it as she reaches a hand to caress your face. “You look better than yesterday. You up to eat?”

You nodded briefly, realising how hungry you were. You’ve barely had an appetite to eat anything, so your rations had been smaller and compact until you regained it back bit by bit, thanks to Emma’s constant care. Pushing yourself up, you sit up and yawn, quickly covering your mouth the moment a bad stench emanates from it. Emma’s face quickly grows sour as well, probably smelling it too.

“You haven’t showered.”

“Uhhh-”

You knew there was no excuse for that one as Emma put the food and medicine away before yanking you off the bed while talking about how gross you were for not showering throughout today. “You’re a girl (name), don’t do this to yourself, c’mon-”

“But-” you start to whine, trying to defend yourself. “I was tired-”

“Nope!” she retorted, pushing you towards the bathroom. “No excuses! I swear you’re acting like Mikey when he’s in one of his moods-”

The room falls silent at her words, the cheerful aura dropping the second Emma realises what she’s said, a wave of guilt washing over her face as she lets go of your hands.

“Fuck- I’m sorry (name)...”

Your heart aches at how heartbroken she sounds right now and shatters even further at the fact that everything, every problem they were experiencing right now was all your fault. You saw it deep in Mikey’s eyes how much pain and suffering your presence in their family had caused, and how his anger reflected that action towards you. You’ve been so entrenched in your own problems that you forgot the mess you made in their family.

“Emma, you miss them don’t you?”

‘It’s not too late.’ You mutter to yourself, your heart in your throat as you steel your resolve. You couldn’t let her make that mistake you made by leaving your family aside. You don’t want Emma to be like you.

“(Name), please don’t-”

“You can’t keep ignoring them forever.” You cut her short, speaking directly to her now. “You can’t keep ignoring Draken either too. You’re miserable.”

“I’m fin-”

“Emma no.” You snap at her, finally having enough of her stubbornness as anger swells up in you. “I see how sad you look everytime you look at your pictures with your big brothers and Draken. Do you think that it’s healthy to keep ignoring them like this?”

“You were the one they hurt, you shouldn’t feel bad for them-”

“It doesn’t matter! I don’t matter!” You yell desperately, now pulling away from her grasp in an attempt to put your foot down. “They are the ones who matter a lot. Those are you family members! People who love you and have protected you for years! Just talk it out with them! They miss you for god’s sake!”

“What the hell do you mean you don’t matter?” Emma roars back at you, suddenly enraged by your outburst. You nearly stumble back at how angry she sounded, fear creeping into your skin as your verbal claws retract. “You matter to me! You mean the world to me as any of them do! You’re my best friend and I love you and if they don’t understand that then there is nothing to make up for!”

By the time she was done yelling, her breathing was heavy and her eyes so intense you couldn’t even stare at her. Your eyes quickly flickered to your feet instead; scared of seeing the disappointment on her face and terrified of her anger. You didn’t like it when Emma yelled, it reminded you of your mother getting angry at you, something you hated doing to her.

Eventually, she took a deep breath and took a step closer to you, her hand intertwined with yours. “Come on, I’ll help you shower.”

You silently follow behind her, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped.

PERHAPS Izana should be angry at Emma.

It would be justified after the words she said from her mouth, but he can’t because he knows the truth. Emma was just angry as well and she didn’t mean any of the words she had said to hurt him. She said them because of you, however and he realises that every fight they’ve had is over your presence in her life.

Which meant that the true culprit was you.

People may believe in love at first sight, but from the first day Izana set his eyes on you, he could only feel hatred towards you. You were just there, sitting awkwardly while Emma tried to involve you in their conversation and it irked him.

At first, Izana thought it was the fact that the both of you were clashing personalities that made him feel that way, but then you keep getting in his way and ruining things for him. He hates everything about you - the way you picked your finger when you were nervous. Your bright smile you gave to only Emma and how easy it was for her to like you. Just your mere presence in general was enough to set him off because of how simple it was for you to be close to Emma while you barely knew her. It felt like he was losing his only sister to a stranger, and now the Emma who stands in front of him is a mere mockery of his real sister.

And that’s the frustrating part. He can’t do anything to hurt you. He’s smart enough to know that if he does, Emma would never forgive him.

“... Kurokawa, are you here with us?”

Izana snaps back to reality as Kisaki taps the table three times to get his attention. ‘I might have spaced out.’ He thinks to himself before facing the entirety of the table; Tetta Kisaki, the rather shrewd and ruthless dealer sitting, his equally irritating lap dog Shuji Hanma and the little shit that he called his younger brother, Mikey.

Speaking of Mikey, ever since that day he made that phone call and revealed his brand new plan of accepting you into their friend group, he’s been very quiet. Even throughout today’s meeting, he hasn’t said a word, aside from mentioning that Draken was going to be absent and asking where Kakucho was before the meeting began.

And knowing his brother, a quiet Mikey is a suspicious Mikey.

Now that Izana thinks about it, he’s noticed that Mikey, who was on his side initially had suddenly switched to trying to apologise to you. Which was weird, considering how egocentric Mikey could be on the topic of apologising. Izana has his suspicions, but then again Mikey is unpredictable due to his rather dark impulses, so he couldn’t really say anything yet, until Kakucho came back from his task.

Izana cleared his throat and faced Kisaki again, deciding to be as honest as possible. After all, it’s their fault that he’s in this mess, might as well remind them. “Just thinking about how Emma practically called me a bastard and I’m supposed to be okay with it.” He said nonchalantly and the air in the room shifted into an uncomfortable silence for the upteenth time this week ever since that unfortunate day. It isn’t surprising to anyone as to why though, Izana’s complicated relationship with the Sano’s is a sore topic that no one ever dared to bring up.

From Kisaki’s tight lipped expression, Izana is sure that the younger male is picking his words carefully in his head. Even Hanma who would have laughed or said something to intentionally piss off Izana remains silent. Eventually, Kisaki lets out a resigned sigh. “The audit would be done another time.” He states in a cool tone, putting his laptop aside before facing the two brothers. “It’s obvious we’re not gonna do anything useful until you resolve this issue with Emma and her friend.”

“Really?” The white haired male mocks, causing Kisaki to shift in his place, an irritated frown creasing his face. “would you like to hear my pla-”

“We’re not going to kill a civilian and draw attention to ourselves, Izana. I’ve already told you what to do.” Kisaki snapped back, his yellow eyes darting from Izana to Mikey, before narrowing in irritation. “Both of you. Just apologise to (name), it’s not that hard. You don’t even have to mean it, the girl won’t even know the difference-”

“Ah yes, cause that went well the last time.”

“And whose fault is that? I clearly told you to say “I’m sorry” and all you did was make things worse!”

“I’m just brutally honest.” Izana spits back. “And you can’t blame me because I tried, compared to Mikey who sits on his damn ass and has done nothing-”

“I wasn’t the one who called her a cheap hooker!” Mikey interjects defensively, sitting upright after staying quiet from the start of this meeting, finally saying something.

“Oh, so you can speak.” Izana retorts back, his voice cold. Mikey is so good at shifting blame onto others for actions he has a hand in, especially when he knows it would reflect badly on him. Unfortunately, Izana has been in this game longer than his little brother. “I thought you had gone mute with the way you don’t want to talk about the issue beyond pushing me to apologise to her.”

“You don’t make it any easier with how you talk to people.” Mikey hisses back, his tempo rising with each word, but Izana can hear the slight shake in his voice, almost as if he’s hiding something. “How am I supposed to do anything if you keep saying shit like you’re glad (name)’s gone?”

(Name)?

The entire room falls silent at Mikey’s sudden outburst, or rather what Mikey had just said. No one says a word as they all stare at Mikey in shock, eye wide and mouth hanging open like he’d grown two heads. There’s a glimmer of confusion in the dark eyed male before the realisation of his mistake washes over him, his facial expression changing into a mixture of guilt and pure terror.

As if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

It’s unmistaken. Izana knows his brother is hiding something and it has to do with you. “You’ve never,” he starts slowly, never taking his eyes off Mikey, gauging his facial expression. “called her by her name. You only call girls who you had something to do with by their name.”

“I-”

“You fucked her, didn’t you.” it’s a statement, not a question. Mikey grows pale and it's more of a sure answer than anything else at all.

“I didn’t do anything bad… she’s still a virgin-”

“What.” Kisaki, interjecting as well, cuts him off, his voice cold. “Did. You. Do?”

Mikey is silent. It’s brief and doesn’t last long as he finally seals his fate with a quiet voice. “It’s not my fucking fault, she wore a short skirt and she was asking for it-”

At the side, Kisaki crumples back onto the dining table seat, his head in his hands muttering a quiet “Oh fuck, I should have stayed with Osanai.” as he shakes in disbelief. Hanma just sits there, clearly perturbed, not knowing how to react but at the same time, not really interested.

“Glad to know I’m not the only screw up.” Izana scoffs as well. Despite how cheery his voice sounded, the furious look on his face says a different story altogether. “Since apparently you’re just as stupid as I am.”

Mikey runs a hand through his golden locs, frustration evident on his features. No one has ever seen him look so frantic, like a little kid who broke something and is trying to hide it. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Sure she said no at first but I knew she wanted it when she relaxed in my touch-”

“That’s not what Emma’s gonna think, you idiot!” Izana barks at him angrily, his temper finally off the rails. “You practically threw away your entire plan before it even started! All for what? Mediocre pussy you could get from some other girl? And you know how Shin is about this shit. If Emma finds out and tells him, we’re screwed!”

There’s a mixture of emotions swirling in Izana right now. The urge to punch Mikey was strong, for daring to not only lie to his face, but also making him look like a fool to cover his ass.

Then again, he knows it’s really not Mikey’s fault but yours. You must have done something to make Mikey hurt you because he knows his little brother doesn’t hurt girls. You have this effect of turning people into worse versions of themselves, making them disgusting, evil and hateful.

You turned Emma against them and now you made Mikey’s dark impulses come out.

It’s you that’s the problem.

“So what anyone find out? They won’t believe her” Mikey snarls back, irritated. “She can’t blame me, I told her to fucking leave but she didn’t listen! She was practically begging me to fuck her-”

“ENOUGH!”

Kisaki’s voice is loud enough to silence the two brothers, ending their argument instantly as they breathe heavily from their prior screaming match. Izana slumps back on his seat as Kisaki sits up straight, eyes narrowed. Mikey does the same as Izana, his jaw tightly clenched as he crosses his arms on his chest, feet crossed. The younger male clears his throat, and starts to rationalise the situation.

“It’s obvious that we’re going to switch gears since this happened. We all have a curated reputation that we need to protect so that people don’t nose into our business.” He turns to Mikey who is still glaring hard at Izana. “Your brother has a point, you fucked up our plan by not telling anyone what you did-”

“You judging me too, Kisaki?”

“Can you stop being defensive for once Mikey and just listen!” Kisaki scolds, just about done with everyone making things more difficult for him. “I don’t care what you did to her, whatever affection or lust you have for her is a you problem. I just want this situation to be in our favour.”

The statement makes Izana scoff in dismal fashion, but he decides to ask out of curiosity regardless. “And how do you intend to turn this situation around? Cause right now she has leverage over us and any careless move can put us in a tougher spot than we can handle.”

Kisaki turns his attention fully towards Izana again, a knowing look on his face as he asks. “Is Kakucho done searching Mikey’s car?”

‘How did he know?’ Izana blinks, but then catches Hanma smirking and doesn’t bother to ask his impending questions. Kisaki always had a nasty and suspicious habit of continuously tailing him specifically, and usually it doesn’t go over Izana’s radar when it happens, apart from this instance. Which meant someone was being a rat in his group.

He’ll deal with that later.

Mikey raised a brow in confusion as well, opening his mouth to protest the invasion of his privacy when Izana’s phone suddenly rings. He picks it up, attempting to step out to answer it when Kisaki raises his hand to stop him.

“Answer it here.” Kisaki said, ignoring the way Izana looks at him like he has two heads. “and put it on speaker.”

He had no reason to comply, but he wanted to see where Kisaki was going with whatever plan he had. With a wry smile, Izana put the phone down on the table and slid the answer button, putting it on a loudspeaker.

“Did you find anything Kakucho?”

Ever loyal, Kakucho clears his throat and starts to speak, his voice sounding strained over the phone, as if he’s struggling with something. “Yes boss.” He answers, a twinge of nervousness coating his tone. “There’s a dash cam on the mirror and a spy cam underneath the compartment facing the passenger’s seat…”

Mikey grumbles under his breath something about fucking Kakucho up if anything ends up spoilt or missing in his car but Kisaki holds his hand up to his lips and shushes him. Izana continues once he’s sure his brother is done complaining. “And did you confirm the anonymous tip that we got?”

He can hear Kakucho shift uncomfortably, the silence on the other side of the phone drawn out until he finally says. “Boss, it’s too … I don’t think we should use this against her.” He tries to reason. “I think we’re going too far-”

“Perfect.” Kisaki chimes in, now looking at Izana with a satisfied smile. Kakucho is about to ask why Kisaki was there but Izana cuts him off instead. “Bring it back. I’ll explain once you come to the house.”

“Okay boss.”

The phone line dies and Kisaki, fairly confident in his plan, looks at Izana once again. “I’m sure you know where I’m going, right?”

Izana may think Kisaki is a pathetic brat who just happened to be smart, but right now, it’s like the both of them are connected and in tune with their thoughts. The tanned male stretches his lips into a smile, one full of malice and at the same time, glee, his eyes light with mirth when he realises what Kisaki was thinking.

Finally a plan he could follow along with.

“Alright, I’m all ears.”

THE walk back to your dorm was quiet.

By the time you managed to catch a bus after spending the entire day looking for a job and getting back to campus, it was already late in the night. Save for only the street lamps that were beginning to dim, everywhere else was darker than usual.

You had read that there was going to be a lunar eclipse tonight between the hours of 10pm - 00am. The time boldly written on the bus’ digital clock before you got down was 10:45pm, so you already assumed it was the cause of the unnatural darkness tonight.

A long time ago before the world weighed you down, things like this would have made you excited. You loved watching the stars when you were young, trying to check on the papers your father bought to see if there was any space news available. You remember borrowing your immediate elder brother’s binoculars as a makeshift telescope, trying to piece out the stars in the sky or see if you would catch a glimpse of the comet that was said to pass through that week.

Unfortunately, you were young and foolish. Wanting to impress your father, you told him all about your book of constellations that you drew up, detailing the first star that appeared every evening, down to your crazy childish theories about aliens and space.

“Can you show me the book?” your father asked calmly. You should have known it was dangerous for your father to be this calm, but you were too blinded by excitement to think and you gave him the book, a bright smile on your face.

Your smile fell as his large hands ripped your book into shreds, before telling you: “Women don’t dream.”

Maybe that was the day you realised the love you craved from your father will never be given to you. You were so young and impressionable, all you wanted was for him to be proud of you, like he was with his sons. Now, you can’t even look at the stars, the memory leaves a bitter taste in your mouth and you try to shake it off as you continue on the path.

You wondered what grievous sin you’ve committed to be so down on your luck like this. Today had been one disappointment to another

You passed by Emma’s dorm building, a sigh escaping your lips. She told you that Draken wanted to take her out for dinner tonight, which shocked you because friends with benefits - according to what Emma herself told you- don’t go on dates or do lovey dovey stuff with each other, to avoid complicated feelings from budding.

Then again, their relationship is based on the fact that they both have feelings for each other, but Draken was not interested in a relationship.

It was already complicated before it began but at least she's taking your advice and talking to them again.

Your eyes darted up to her window, hoping her lights were on. Whenever she was alone, Emma hated sleeping in the dark. She said it reminded her of the times her mother would lock her and Izana in a dark room whenever she brought her customers in. Anytime she was in a darkened room, she told you she could still hear the sound of her mother moaning and a man grunting. Izana would try his best to distract her, playing games or even stealing an earphone and plugging it to his own so that she would listen to music instead of what was going on.

A frown graced your lips when you saw two bodies from the curtain, one tall figure you recognize as Draken and Emma’s smaller dainty figure perched on him, kissing. You quickly averted your eyes and walked faster, ignoring the unfamiliar pang in your chest. Maybe you’re jealous because you needed your friend’s comfort right now and she wasn’t available. You felt greedy for this, after spending a week with her, you should let her be free.

‘She has her own life to live. And I have mine’ you muttered to yourself as you trudged along the path, slowly dragging your feet. ‘I have to stop being so dependent on her.’

Eventually, your thoughts drift back to your reoccurring dream. Losing your job made you realise that if you didn’t do anything about it, your tiredness would eventually catch up to you and ruin everything else you’ve worked for. With an important test scheduled for tomorrow, you knew you could not afford to take another loss this week. You had to power through your sleep tonight, even if it traumatised you.

‘Maybe I should pretend that I like it. Pretend it’s okay and enjoy it so that I won’t have to wake up.’ You shook your head, cursing as you drew closer to your own dorm building. ‘Oh God, how far I’ve fallen. Look at me trying to enjoy a disgraceful act-’

You paused in your tracks at the sound of a leaf crushing. You quickly turned around, trying to ascertain who could be lurking there behind the bushes. Your palms started sweating, your nerves firing at the thought of being watched.

Silence.

You decided to continue walking, assuming that maybe you were hearing things and there wasn’t anything at all. Nighttime always had a way of making you nervous, especially with all the horrible stories you heard about innocent women being attacked around these times. Besides, looking around for whatever may be lurking was a dumb idea.

You should just get out of here.

Eventually, you make it to your dorm house in record time, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. ‘Maybe I’m being paranoid. But at least I’m safe now.’ You think to yourself as you push the door open, closing it behind you.

Weary from the day’s stress, your body starts to give up on you but you push through, trying your best to just make it to your room. You’re sure you would just collapse on your bed the second you got there and forget about anything else.

But as you reach for the handle, a feeling of dread washes over you, the same one you felt when you were outside. ‘I really need to let this go. There’s no harm waiting for me. It’s just my room.’ You mutter to yourself. Your overthinking has cost you a lot, from your job to your academics and right now, you really need it to stop. Pushing whatever feeling was keeping you away, you walked into the darkened room.

You finally make it to your room, about to rummage your bag for the keys when you notice the door was unlocked. ‘Oh? Ami must have come back rather early, since I barely see her until 2am.’

(From here is edited)

The first thing that greeted you was the stench of some kind of smoke -weed, the kind that Ami liked to use whenever she was in the room. You always hated the smell and you recall telling her to leave the windows open whenever she wanted to smoke. Coughing, you quickly covered your nose and mouth with one hand and reached to turn on the light with another. “Ami, how many times have I told you to open the window whenever you smoke? You know I don’t like the smell-”

Your blood turns to ice the moment light floods the room, your mouth dry as you stare at the man perched on your reading chair, a leg crossed over the other, the weed blunt hanging between his tanned hands. His lips are stretched into a sick grin, showing all his teeth, purple eyes shining with an odd mirth as he glances at you up and down.

Izana Kurokawa.

‘Run’

You don’t need to be told twice, quickly discarding your bag and running towards the direction of the door, only to hit someone hard, standing tall in your way. You look up fearfully to see mismatched eyes, a scar running down his face and flinch backwards in reflex. It’s as if he gazes at you with pity, but quickly switches to a blank stare as he stands between you and the door.

You know him from hanging around Emma a lot in the Tenjiku frat house, Kakucho. He’s always around Izana and only loyal to him for some reason that you don’t know. He doesn’t listen to anyone else, not even Mikey. You realise that he might have been the one that was following you when you were walking home.

Begging him to let you pass would be futile.

“Don’t worry, I’m just here to have a little chat with you. I’m not going to hurt you.” His tone is calm, but it doesn’t bring you any comfort. If Mikey could hurt you without any remorse, then there’s nothing stopping Izana from doing worse to you. “And as much as your backside is as interesting as your face, I prefer talking to someone who is looking at me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” The words fly out from your mouth before you even think of a more appropriate response but it doesn’t seem to give him any form of reaction other than a dry laugh.

He scoffed. “I don’t care. Turn around.”

Reluctantly you slowly turn to face him again, your body trembling as your fear filled eyes lock with his. Your heart drops to your stomach when you hear heavy footsteps walk out of the door, shutting it behind you, locks turning and trapping you with Izana.

‘Oh God oh God oh God.’

Your fear doesn’t go unnoticed by the white haired man, and he only chuckles at how stiff you were. Between the two brothers, you know Izana thrives in fear, using it to his advantage and it’s not unfounded. Notwithstanding his backing from Black dragons, Izana had taken Tenjiku from a down and out frat house, to a den of crime that holds power, trickling right into the administration of the university. Even his men know better than to ever get themselves in his bad books, because no one can ever escape him, no matter how much you try to run.

It was only a matter of time until he would make you pay for causing him problems, but you didn’t think he’d come by himself. You felt stupid for thinking he wouldn’t care about you or he’d forget how angry he was at you and leave you alone, especially with Emma still not on speaking terms with them.

He motions with his bunt for you to come closer to him and you comply, taking careful steps until you’re standing right in front of him. He eyes you again with a tepid frown. “When you meet a king, you don’t stand before him, you kneel.”

Kneel. You want to assume he’s not serious but you know better than to question him and go down on your knees, focusing your gaze firmly on your lap. It’s humiliating the way he has you at his mercy, without even moving an inch but it’s better to be compliant than to aggravate him even further by being disobedient.

You’ve learned the hard way what could happen if you resist.

From the corner of your eyes, you watch as Izana puts out his weed blunt on your reading table leaving a sorching mark on the table, before reaching behind his waistband. Your mouth grows dry the second you see the gun, your heart pounding against your chest as he presses the barrel to your head.

‘Oh god.’ You gasp as he presses it further against your head, until you’re sure it would leave an indent. ‘He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me…’

“That’s odd,” He murmurs. “Usually, other people would be begging for their lives when met with a gun to their head, but you’re quiet. If not for the way your hands are trembling, I’d think you weren’t scared.”

This time, with a gun pointed at your head, you’re careful with your words. “Y-you said you won’t hurt me.” Your voice shakes with fear but you continue. You know men like Izana, he reminds you of your older brother who ruled the house apart from your father, with fear and control. Sometimes, when you were able to stroke his ego, he’d go easy on you. Maybe that would work on Izana too. “That you want to talk.”

“And what if I changed my mind? Pulled the trigger? That’ll make my life easier, yeah? I won’t have to fight for my sister’s love and affection with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat when you hear the safety go off and watch as his finger curls around the trigger. ‘Oh God, he’s going to kill me. He’ll shoot me dead. I-i have to say something- I don’t want to die-’

“I-i trust you not to do it.” You reply, your lips trembling as you struggle not to think of your head scattered into pieces on the floor if he chooses to kill you. “You’re a man of your words.”

There’s another complete silence that engulfs the entire room, until you hear a click that makes you flinch for a split second, waiting for the bullet that would end it all. Instead, it’s him putting the safety back on, and chuckling at your reaction.

“You trust me? How foolish.” He laughs, tracing the gun from your head down to underneath your chin and forcing you to look up at him. You’ve only read about people with empty eyes in stories, but seeing it in person was so terrifying. “Is that why you ended up with Mikey in his car?”

All the blood rushes from your head to the tip of your toes. “H-how do you kn-”

“I have eyes and ears in this school, (name).” You’re sure it’s the first time you’ve heard him call you by your name and despite being in a life or death situation, you couldn’t control the shiver that ran through your spine. “You wanted him to touch you, right?”

“T-that is not what happened!” You suddenly cried out, trying to explain your own side of the story. Of all the people who know your dirty and shameful secret, Izana is the worst pick, just your luck. “It was a mistake! I tried to tell him I didn’t want it but I couldn’t-”

“Ah ah -” Izana cuts you off, tilting your chin higher with the gun. “Don’t lie to me. You must have planned the entire thing to make Mikey look bad”

“No! I wasn’t trying to do anything, I just wanted to talk-”

“Really? Cause Mikey told me an entirely different story-”

“No, no I- didn’t… -”

“You were dangling yourself like a piece of meat for him to fuck and he’s a man, you know. He has urges and it's hard to resist temptation.”

“That’s not true-” your lips start to tremble at his words, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. You didn’t want to be assaulted, you just wanted to talk to him about the Emma issue and you wanted to apologise. “That’s not true-”

“Oh but it is.” He said firmly, now leaning in closer to your face until there’s barely any inches between the two of you. “And now Mikey feels like a piece of shit because he couldn’t stop himself.”

“No-” your voice is small, trying to defend yourself but even you are beginning to doubt your own credibility with how he keeps twisting the narrative around until you begin to actually believe him.

‘No! Don’t let him make you think you’re in the wrong! You know what happened!’

“He even told you to leave but you refused to. You were baiting him to just do something to you so that you can tell everyone how bad Mikey is and make yourself get more sympathy points. Am I wrong?”

“No! I would never do that to Mikey!” You don’t realise your tempo had suddenly gotten high or that tears had started to drip down your face, but Izana did. He doesn’t point it out, staying quiet as you start to shout at him. “I would never bait him into hurting me! I just wanted to make up with him because I felt that I overreacted at the party I swear! And then he touched me in the car -”

“And you never reported him to the school authorities? Why? Did you want to blackmail him for money-”

“Because I love him!”

The words flew out of your mouth before you could even stop yourself from saying them.

Your heart drops as a mischievious glint appears in Izana’s eyes. His smile drops slightly, still maintaining the gun on your chin. “You love him?” He says slowly, testing out the words on his lips. “Love? Mikey?” He looks so deep in thought, like the concept sounds so foreign to him that he almost can’t believe it. His gaze falls back to you again, a quiet scoff emanating from his lips. “You really have no shame, do you?”

Unable to maintain eye contact with him, you break away from his gaze, biting down on your lips to prevent yourself from falling apart. When you don’t respond, Izana takes your silence as an opportunity to keep talking. “If you love him so much, then what’s wrong with what you both did in the car that day? It was what you wanted, wasn't it?”

“Not like that…”

“But you claim to love him.” Izana is calm and cool, while you’re stuttering on your words, making you look like you’re the one who is wrong. Like what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense to begin with and he’s the one saying something of reason. “And yet, you didn’t even notice he wasn’t himself that day. Or did you take advantage of his fragile state of mind?”

“I would NEVER-”

“You would, because you get to be the so-called victim and he gets to be the villain in your own story. Do you really know the implication of your actions?”

“That’s not right.” You don’t even realize how quiet you’ve gotten, your voice full of uncertainity. “I didn’t … it’s not…”

“Shut up.” He cuts you off again with a firm tone, tapping the gun on your chin gently to enunciate his point. “The reason why I haven’t put a bullet through your head as much as I want to is because I love Emma. I love Emma so much I’d kill for her and I’d resist the urge to kill for her. That’s how Sano’s love. That’s true love. That's something you'll never ever experience.”

You stay silent, trying to understand what exactly Izana was calling love. He leaned closer, making you feel even smaller. “If Emma finds out, she’ll think Mikey intentionally hurt you and she will hate him. But I guess that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Never. I don’t want her to hate him” your inner voice telling you it’s not your fault, is nothing more than a whisper, the feeling of guilt and shame overtaking you until you’re almost suffocating. “I just want them to be happy…”

“Then you know exactly what you’re meant to do, right?”

Of course you know what to do. Ever since you were child, it’s been drilled into your head. Whenever your brothers hit you a bit too hard or your father went overboard with his belt and you ended up in the hospital, your mother would take you aside to issue a warning that still rings in your head. That had terrible consequences if you refused to follow through with it.

You nod weakly. It really doesn’t matter what is right and wrong when it comes to the Sano’s, but what they want. Izana taps the gun on your chin again, shaking his head. “I need a verbal answer.”

“I won’t tell anybody what happened. Especially not Emma.”

Satisfied, he withdrew his gun from your chin and your face falls onto his lap, unable to support your head any longer. You feel a hand reaching down to pet your head, like you were a dog who had just been tamed by her new owner. The strength to push him off or stand up had left you, feeling drained as the weight of guilt settle down on your shoulders, heavily. You know you shouldn’t believe anything Izana says, but then again he does have a point. Maybe you should have been more receptive of Mikey’s touch or at least be polite about declining him instead of shoving him off and hurting his pride.

You feel so utterly powerless. Despite being wronged, you know there’s nothing you can really do to save yourself. You don’t think you can bear the traumatic experience of being an outlier again.

Mikey. You don’t want to hurt him. You don’t want anyone thinking he’s a bad person over a singular action.

'Maybe it’s not as bad as I think, I did enjoy it mid-way, so it should count as something. Right?'

You feel sick just trying to think about it.

“You know, if you’re this obedient, we can get along just fine.” He hums, breaking the silence as he pets your head gently. You hate yourself right now. How easy it is to do whatever it is that you’re told because disobedience is not an option. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to know what I’ll do to you if you break your promise.”

“No” your voice is quiet. You feel tired, sick maybe, you don’t know. Maybe it’s the weed he smoked earlier affecting your judgement and reasoning. Or it’s the lack of sleep that has made it difficult for you to think straight or stand up. Either way, you don’t care. “I don’t.”

“Good girl.”

Bonus:

You know he’s mocking you, but you accept it, like you do with every circumstance thrown at you.

IZANA looks down at your sleeping figure with a curious gaze.

For a moment, he almost pities you. Despite the faint glow of the room lighting, he can see the dark circles underneath your eyes and how stressed you look. For someone who is actively working to pay her fees while sustaining herself with no one caring for her, it must be hard being abandoned by society.

He can see why Emma picked you to be her friend, she always had a trait of picking up stray animals who had no one because she wanted something to protect. It’s no different with you, the way she’s so fiercely loyal to you and why she wanted you to be accepted by their family. No wonder she was hurt when you were vehemently rejected by them.

If he had a conscience, he’d feel bad for you. You love Mikey, of all people, someone who only saw you as a nuisance and to push the blame of his actions onto. All those times Mikey was cruel to you must have hurt the most because you truly cared about what he thinks about you.

He’s careful when he lifts your head from his lap, not wanting to wake you up. He puts your head on the chair and turns to leave, already overstaying his welcome. He’s done the thing he was supposed to, ensuring you stayed quiet about Mikey’s actions and there’s no need for him to be here any longer.

As he walked to the door, his mind goes back to you. In a way, you and him were similar. All alone, unwanted, with nobody in the world to care about you, cold, uncaring parents who didn’t think twice in terms of abandoning you both. The only difference between you and him is that he grew a backbone and you haven’t. You’re like a kicked dog who continues to stay on the ground to get kicked, in hopes the person kicking you stops eventually.

As long as you stay on the ground, people like him will keep kicking you.

He knocks loudly on the door and the locks turn. Kakucho opens it for him, peering inside with a worried gaze, his eyes settling on your body slumped over a chair.

“Did you hit -”

“I didn’t touch her.” Izana snaps at the taller male, stepping out of the room properly. “She’s fine, physically at least. Emotionally she’s a mess. But that’s Mikey’s problem to fix.”

“Huh?”

It wouldn’t hurt to tell Kakucho your little secret. “Apparently (name)’s in love with my dear brother Mikey so she’s keeping quiet what he did to her.” a cruel smile stretches across his face. “How pathetic.”

Kakucho frowns at Izana’s statement, but as usual he doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, his eye darts back to your form again, taking a good look at you, his eyes softening. Ever the gentleman.

“She shouldn’t really stay like that Izana, she’ll get a stiff neck-”

“Kakucho.”

That was enough to end the conversation.

special thanks to: (please turn on your mentions in 'settings' before filling the form.): @officiallyjaehyuns @haikyuusboringassmanager @ilybbg @merrymerrykiss @cockonoi @Rindou24689 @short-cxke @kokoch4n3l @GenAwi @ryuguji-sana @nuyoo @reiners-milkbiddies @kiwixpi @gh0stgirl333 @brisssaaa009 @fushiqruo @kawaiikoalagarden @damidamimongalam @raven-nevra @ilovetwodmen @kodzubaby @straightfromheaven @manchie55 @pikibee @tomeyano @matchamilktea-05 @tenjikusstuff4 @m0onz1 @hapikiou @rainnyzz @Lovelyartistz @lik0 @maraya-007 @thisismarisaaa @reeyy0-2 @littlemisspropaganda @cherie026

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marymary-diva17 · 21 days ago

Text

Promises between friends

Promises are always made some of them being very true to heart, and other built on lies and betrayal. There are times when promise are built on happiness and truth between, the ones who make these promise pledging not to break these promises that were made.

y/n " ......." it was late at night as you are fast asleep when you felt, someone shaking you awake gentle. You had soon slowly opened your eyes, to see Orion pax standing there with a smile on his face.

y/n " orion"

Orion pax " good you are up come on we have to go get D-16"

y/n " umm okay" you are half way asleep and half way awake, as you soon followed after Orion pax as he went towards D-16 sleeping quarters.

y/n " you know I care for you orion and cherish you but do you think, it the best to do whatever you are doing right now"

orion pax " it will be worth it trust me y/n"

y/n " okay I trust you and you are going to need me for keeping D from hurting you" The pair soon reached the sleeping quarters of D-16 as Orion pax had went to go awake him up.

Orion pax " good you are up come along there is something I need to show you and tell you"

D-16 " huh" the two mech had come out of the room and soon meet you in the hallway. orion pax had lead the pair towards where he went to take them, soon showing them the Icon 5000 glowing signs by the statues.

y/n " the night is always so beautiful but there are times I wish to see, what life is like on the surface"

Orion pax " one day that shall happen and I along with D-16 will come with you, and we will all see the surface with everyone else here"

y/n " promises"

D-16 " do we ever break promises with you"

y/n " no so orion tell us what you need to show us as if it important to you, it will be important to us as well"

Orion pax " we should enter the Icon 5000"

D-16 " I'm going back to bed you have gone glitch y/n care to come with me" D-16 had looked at his friend trying to understand what, orion pax was planing right now. He soon looked at you ready to head back to bed.

y/n "I ....."

orion pax " no hear me out"

y/n " okay tell us Orion"

D-16 " oh come on don't tell me you are encouraging this behavior"

y/n " well like the promsie I made years ago I always encourage my friends, and stand with them when they need help"

d-16 " that is so like you"

orion pax " come on this will be wonderful it will finally give us the chance to show everyone we are more, then some coug less miners we can do something grand D-16"

D-16 " look orion we can try but it will not work we can't transformer, how will we enter that race without having the ability of flight of driving"

y/n " ........"

D-16 " look it getting late and we should all be in bed we can go see the race tomorrow, as friends it will be fun and we also have the day off as well"

Orion pax " okay" D-16 soon walked away heading back to bed as you looked at orion pax, you soon placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

y/n " I believe you and everyone else here will be able to change the world orion"

orion pax " thank you y/n"

y/n "Your welcome now come on let's head to bed tomorrow is a brand new day" Orion had nodded his head as the pair had soon went back to bed, not knowing tomorrow will be chnaging their lives. As both orion and D-16 had taken part on the race, and almost ending winning the race. They did help make change as they had imspired the miners and other cougless bots as well. That will soon ended up with them being sent to lowerl levels, meeting B-127 and finding a message from alpha trion.

hours later

Elita " I can't believe we are stuck all the way out here" you and elite had ran into the three mechs, as they were on the raining head to the surface. Which had lead on to many other events that lead to all four bots, being on the surface for the first time ever.

Orion pax " oh come on elite it can be fun"

elita " coming from zero from my last accident"

y/n " elita you have all reason to be mad right now, but right now we need to clam down and work as a team to get to primes and soon home as well"

Elita " fine I will work you with pax all because of y/n but if this fail I'm dragging you and two go bot back home, and you will give me a good view that highlight me in a good light and y/n as well"

orion pax " deal"

y/n "See when we work as a team everything will work out perfectly"

B-127 "it's so great to be out here with new friends" you had nodded your head at B-127 words as the group had started walking, with B and Elita at the front.

Orion pax " see D-16 everything is working out perfectly"

D-16 "yeah"

y/n "See if we promise to stay together when we are out here, everything will be fine as we need to stay united when we are out here for the sake of cyberton and the matrix of leadership" Two mechs had smiled at you as the trio had started walking, as they were following the map.

Orion pax " y/n is right as always, we have each other back out here we will be okay like we do in the mines"

Orion pax " Now come on, let's get going we are really doing this"

D-16 " I'm so glad to be out here with you with both this waa. great idea" you had nodded your head as the group soon started walking, on the journey that waa going to change all their lives from here on now. The promises that they had once made might never be the same, as eveyrone will go on different paths from here on now, relationships will not be the same either for most. Just maybe there might be some promsies and relationships will stand strong, even after that will come in the future.

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thecurlyhairrodimuslover · 27 days ago

Note

I was wondering if you can write a Bumblebee(B-127) x Cybertronians!reader, where B-127 was staring at trash burning, and the reader fell out of the trash chute, and he saves the reader just in time before the reader went in the fire, and we help him build Steve?

AWHHH RAHHH I LOVE I LOVE HIMMM (I’m in my bumblebee onesie as we speak)

I LOVE ITTY IGHHFKDSKSKDKFKFKFIGIG

B-127 x cybertronian! Reader

Spoilers for Transformers One if you haven’t seen it.

gnreader, mentions death, injuries, and angst, not edited.

"I don't want to go back up there, anyway..."

I listened to Chihiro and Ocean Eyes while making this lol.

You were a miner. A very low-ranking miner.

You had tried to be happy. Sometimes it didn't work.

You always ended up frowning, doing your job.

You had a [Preferred paint color] paint job and were always covered in scratches or dirt. It was rough. It was so rough.

You were always tired, always looking pitiful. You didn’t know why you did. You were working towards saving Cybertron.

You weren’t treated with much respect. You were always being taken advantage of. By anyone. The bots who worked aside you, your superiors, everyone. It seems cliche, but it does.

Doesn’t everyone get stepped on, especially in this environment? Well, you could argue yes, but it sure was damn different.

You already had a dangerous job, and felt so invisible and treated with such disregard. You were by yourself, always by yourself.

Sometimes, on little breaks, you thought to yourself. You thought to yourself a lot; Too much for a little ol’ bot with a low-ranked job. It was hard to find your reason in life and who you were.

Sometimes you’d question why you had no cog or were not of high rank. You’d question why you even had to mine for Energon anyway. Why were you always mining for it? It was hours on end.

No sleep sometimes. Barely, if you’re lucky.

One day, you were working on putting packages and boxes together to send to the other bots to put on the transport.

You were leaning over the edge of the conveyor belt, even though you shouldn't have, to make sure some of the packages were sealed correctly. It is true that some slack and rush, and don't even check if it's right or corrected.

something had happened in which all the bots had to evacuate for something.

You tried getting up from leaning over the edge, but instead, you got shoved and pushed.

You had fallen in. It happened so fast. It's like you fell sideways but you went downward.

You or anybody else didn't have time to react. Did they even care? Probably not. Maybe some did.

You hit the side of your helm and it felt like you blacked out. You blacked out on what seemed like the conveyor belt to the...To the trash chute!?

You were barely even conscious. You really just look up and then close your eyes. You couldn't think much about anything. All of this happened too fast. You felt a cold liquid run down your face (do they even bleed? or. would I say leak?)

That's really beside the fact.

You did hear "Oh my primus," a couple times from the bots above you, but really it was kinda late to grab you or get anyone to save you.

Now to B now!

Bumblebee was simply watching trash. Trash that goes into the burner.

He didn't really get the point, but at least he could keep this assignment.

Sure he felt lonely, but again, it wasn't like he didn't fully enjoy his job. He could just hang by himself all day.

All B was was just a bot who was by himself a lot. All the time. No one even came down there.

Yeah, sometimes he wanted someone who he could talk to, or hang out with. It felt like hell. Maybe it was. I mean he did work near the trash burner on one of the lowest levels. It might as well be.

Even trying to be optimistic, he would find himself frowning at the trash like this.

( LMAO THIS POOR BABY)

Anyway, he really did try to stay as sane as he could.

when he heard a sound coming from the trash chute, he couldn't help but wonder what it could possibly be.

"Do they just send anything down here now?" he went.

"It can barely fit down the chute," he continued, getting closer to it.

Once whatever was in the chute got close to the end, it came down fast.

With a BANG, you fall on the conveyor belt, limp.

"Oh my Primus, it's another bot!" he said, quickly acting, pulling your limp frame off of the conveyor belt before you could reach the trash. He stopped the machine and placed you on the ground.

You look kinda conscious but definitely not responsive.

He took off his protective helmet and tried to figure out your situation.

"Are you alright?" He tries to speak to you.

All you could do was move your eyes. Little by little you realize you were on the ground.

"Do you need help?" He asked again, panicking, especially after realizing you had a cut or a bruise of some sort on your helm.

"Try getting up, maybe I could help you if you get Energon running through you again," he suggested.

You blink a couple times.

You try to recognize where you are. You couldn't Though, was that really the most of your worries. You fell into the conveyor belt and almost died for crying out loud.

You groan and put a servo on your helm as you get up slowly.

You rub your face plate and look back at it. Dirt, dust, and-- shit you're leaking.

You put your servo back and down and look around. Everything through your optics felt so saturated. It felt not normal. You hadn't even noticed the bot next to you, looking just as concerned for you as you were for yourself.

You could honestly care less about your surroundings or who this other bot was. At least for now. Not in a mean way. You just felt hurt. Your frame felt numb and so did your face plate.

"Y-you fell down the chute..." He began, looking at you.

You rubbed your helm a bit more and looked at him then at where you would've ended up if he didn't do anything.

"Thank you," you said simply.

"My pleasure," he replied.

"I'm guessing don't have many.. uhm options to get back up there..do I?" You asked.

He shook his helm.

"I could help you- with your injury that is. You seemed to have taken a really big fall," he said, grabbing something.

You guess you did. You barely remembered what had happened it had all gone down so quick.

You looked down. Maybe if you hadn't leaned over the edge, none of this would've happened. You were lucky to even still be online.

B looked at you, after grabbing a bandage. He saw you were upset. He couldn't blame you. Maybe you had it good up there.

"Hey, uhh, I never got your name--" He starts, trying to distract you.

You widened your eyes, getting ready to respond.

"Oh, it's Y/N," you began.

You look at him as he gives you the bandage, hoping he'll respond with his name back.

"Well, Y/N, I'm B-127, I work here at this very level...Just me..." he says smiling...Kinda.

You give a weak smile. He seemed sweet. And alone. Just like you.

"I worked as a low-rank miner who packaged boxes for transport," you go on. "Not so different from picking out valuable stuff from scrap, and watching trash." you finish.

"Looks like I'm stuck down here, but at least you seem cool," you say smiling a little more.

He smiles back sitting with you. He was pretty happy. You were a person he could talk to.

"At least we'll have one another," he says.

"It's better than what my life was up there." You say, thinking.

"I'd rather be down here than be up there," you continue.

After a couple of days, a bot couldn't tell if you guys had been friends all your life or if you guys met a couple days prior.

It was funny because, after about a month, you guys decided to build a buddy!

You decided to name him Steve :3

After building Steve, you had wanted to make a mask just like B's.

"I made a mask like yours, B. Isn't it hella badass? I got it from you," you laugh.

He definitely calls himself Badass after that

(that's where he got the name from!)

You both are glad you found each other when you guys did. You both needed it.

silly ahh alien LMAO

-King

#transformers #bumblebee #transformers x reader #bumblebee x reader #tf one spoilers #tf one #gn reader #b 127 x reader #bee x reader #b 127 #tf b127 #tf1

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purplelupins · 8 months ago

Text

Lamb

Midnight Mass

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Father John Pruitt/Father Paul hill x fem!reader

Word count:12.3k

Summery: An entire life of being a good girl was a difficult cross to carry...especially in a tiny town with 127 residents on a good day. You kept the town fed and spirits as high as you could, but when a new face steps off the afternoon Breeze, things around you start to change; you don't even know you're in the eye of the storm.

Warnings: nsfw, reader is religious, religious symbolism, ideology, explanations and general conversations of religion, age gap (like this man is 80 technically and he watched reader grow up, and can remember reader as a little girl so if that’s creepy to you then go no further), stalking, manipulation, murder (hello have you seen the show?), drinking of blood, hunting of a person, grief, description of animal death, reader is described as blushing, character death, non consensual help showering, guilt and god maybe more but I think that’s it…this is not really a fix it fic

Notes:

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were never a fan of when Beverly was given the opportunity to lead worship. You never felt fully untuned- half of the time it felt more akin to a scolding lesson in school than a reminder of Him. She liked to highlight “them and us” between believers and non believers of Crockett. Somehow she always managed to spin things into belittling those who didn’t attend church, and those days were always a little…tense. This was a time of worshiping and remembering God, not a time of a hierarchy.

“Here we are again. Back to normal. Funny how the pews empty back out once everyone has their ashes, isn’t it?” She paused as if to ridicule the non-churchgoers.

You pursed your lips as she continued, and found yourself looking at small details around the church. Chips in the paint, the crosses, the windows, Father Paul gazing at you-

Startled, you looked back to where you had just been looking and sure enough you caught the Father flicking his eyes away just in time as he bowed his head. You stared at him for a moment, but he was fixated on the rosary in his hand.

Had you imagined it?

You kept your eyes down for the rest of the morning, and ridiculed yourself for thinking the Father would look at you. Why would that be a thought that entered your mind? You didn’t even stop to speak with him after church.

If you had looked behind you, however, you would have seen the Father’s forlorn gaze flickering to your form during his conversations- distracted. He turned back to the islander he spoke to and flashed them a tight smile as they moved on and he spoke to the next person, but John felt a hollowness in his gut, and he wasn’t certain it was from hunger.

Even that night when John went for a stroll down the island like he used to, he stopped several yards from your house and forced himself to turn around. He muttered prayers under his breath the entire way back to the rectory, and knelt before the cross on his wall for another hour before he slept.

“Sheriff? Sheriff!” You yelled as you stepped off your bike at the marina the next morning. You needed a couple things from the Mainland, and had a short list you hoped Hassan would be able to get for you during his time there for his Friday prayer.

The man turned, hand on his hip, “Morning to you too.”

“I have a favour?” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes and clasped your hands in front of you.

Hassan rolled his eyes and huffed but you could tell it was a show, “Out with it.”

“I’m just out of a couple things for the shop and you can get them all at this store- I wrote the address down and the list and it’s close to the mosque you go to! Please? There’s some cash in there too.” You held an envelope out hopefully.

He stared at you for a long moment, then slowly took the paper from you, “This isn’t going to be a habit right?”

“Thank you! Thank you thank you, I promise it won’t.” You bounced.

He fixed you another look, but you knew he was smiling a little under that moustache.

“You’re the best!” You called to him when you hopped back on your bike, “Oh! This is for you.” You reached into the basket and retrieved a brown paper bag.

Hassan smiled a little.

“One muffin and a berry tart.” You returned his smile.

He relented. “Fine, fine. I’ll be back this afternoon.” He grumbled.

“Have a safe trip!” You called, “And hey, you really should wash that jean jacket, Sheriff or it might walk away on its own one day!” You quipped and began pedaling away.

Hassan shook his head. He liked having you around. You were a breath of fresh air amongst the stale islanders, and he hoped he could call you a friend one day.

You knew you were cutting it close for Mass, so you sped your way across the island and up the hill to St. Patrick’s where you were happy to see still a few people filing in. You laid your bike down beside the church and jumped up the steps to go and find your spot. One of the perks of a small town was every person had their spot that they sat in- you never had to fight over it.

Your shoulders deflated slightly when Bev took her place atop the pulpit and began the service. “Our responsorial psalm today is Psalm 27. “The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom then shall I fear?”.”

“The Lord is the strength of my life, of whom then shall I be afraid? When evildoers came upon me to eat up my flesh, it was they, my foes and adversaries, who stumbled and fell. Though an army should encamp against me, yet my heart shall not be afraid. And though war should rise up against me, I will put my trust in Him. One thing I have asked of the Lord, one thing I seek, that I may dwell in the house of the Lord, all the days of my life.” Her reading was simple and dry. You found your eyes glazing over, waiting for the Fathers homily.

Then you mentally slapped yourself. This was a time of worship, it didn’t matter if it was boring. You had grown used to the vivid approach he always took during Mass. You laughed a little to yourself when you thought you were a little addicted to it.

As if someone could become addicted to a preacher…don’t be ridiculous.

You remained seated, and watched as Father Paul approached Leeza first for the Eucharist. You liked that he carried on the tradition of serving her first since the accident, even though he wasn’t there. The amount of respect and care he had for the islanders was so selfless.

“Body of Christ, Leeza.” The good Father murmured just as he always did. So gentle.

“Amen.” She said, cupping her hands out.

Silence fell over the church then. You felt confusion fill you when he stopped just a couple steps away from her, and then even took a few steps back.

“Come on. Body of Christ.” He repeated, beckoning her with the wafer.

“Father, what are you doing?” Wade chuckled nervously.

You looked over at Erin, and she had the same look of slight horror that you did. What was he doing? Surely he didn’t think this was a joke.

“Body of Christ.” He repeated.

“What are you doing?” Wade asked again with more of a bite.

Leeza directed her chair to move forward, but Father Paul only stepped back further.

“No. No.” He muttered, and stepped up the stairs of the pulpit.

The worshipers around you began to murmur. You felt pressure start to build in your chest. Anxiety and ire weighing heavy in your stomach the longer he stood there out of her reach. Was he sick? What was he doing?

“Come on. Body of Christ.” Now his voice echoed in the space as he called the girl up to him. Relentless.

“No, stop it.” Erin snapped as she stood, “That’s cruel.”

“Come on.” He repeated, still calm.

Dolly got up and knelt by her daughter, trying to comfort her, “Leeza, honey.” Then she looked up at the pastor and her eyes were like ice, “What is wrong with you?”

“Father Hill enough.” You spoke- emotion making your voice shake.

But still he only stood and waited for Leeza.

You watched Wade stand with his family, each person growing more and more defensive and outraged, “If this is a joke, Father, it’s not funny. I…”

But then, it was as if all air had left the church- all sound gone too. You didn’t know what it was that you were seeing, and you were terrified to blink lest it go away. All horror you felt sunk into the Earth and your head felt light.

Leeza was standing. Freely.

“Leeza?” Wade asked in disbelief.

A woman across from you fainted as she stood.

Your ears felt all prickly and your fingers felt numb.

You could still remember when the accident had happened. How devastating it had been. Hell you used to walk with the Scarboroughs some nights when they went as a family.

Dolly was a mess for almost a year…now they only managed.

Leeza took a step, and then another, and then she was stepping up the stairs and you felt tears start to well in your eyes as you stared up in shock. You couldn’t blink.

“Body of Christ.” Father Hill said once more, and placed the wafer in Leesa’s hands.

“Amen.” She said, voice wavering.

You released a breath, and tore your eyes from Leeza to look up at the Father. He was watching her with such kindness and pride in his eyes as she turned and walked into her parents arms.

Who was he? How could…how could he have known?

Murmurs filled the church as people praised God and crossed themselves.

But you could only see how Father Hill began to sway and cough. He caught himself on the alter, but then pushed himself towards the back door into the vestibule. Your blood began to run cold with worry as he almost ran out of view.

You would have run after him yourself if Bev hadn’t.

Your head was spinning and you felt disconnected from your body.

You didn’t know what to think or do, so you wordlessly walked to Leeza and embraced her. She held you and wept into your shoulder.

You felt your heart.

It hurt.

Ached.

You walked with the Scarboroughs into town to see Dr. Gunning, and kept quiet to let them speak to one another. Disbelief and awe coloured their words as they encouraged their daughter.You kept one arm under Leeza’s while Wade had the other; they talked, and talked until your face hurt from smiling, and you were helping her up the steps to the doctors house.

It all seemed so…miraculous.

Such a God given gift.

Once Leeza was inside safely, you quietly backed out and waved them off. You began your way to your shop, and the entire walk was within a blink of an eye. You might have looked calm and thoughtful from the outside, but oh your mind was churning.

How? How? You could still remember seeing Leeza for the first time after the accident. How broken her and her family was.

You remembered all the specialists they saw and all the visits they made to the mainland. How some visits left them hopeful but most left them even more lost and helpless than the last.

You knew they barely afforded groceries now because of the bills.

Now, you didn’t know if you should weep out of joy or fall to your knees and vomit. It was as if someone you loved had risen from the dead…certainly it was wonderful but somehow you felt a little weary.

Perhaps it was years of empty promises after the oil spill…

You didn’t even remember doing deliveries that day. But somehow you finished them. News travelled quickly- by the time you had been halfway through people were talking to you about little Leezas recovery. You didn’t remember talking much, only saying what a miracle it was. You were back at your shop, just hopping off your bike when you realized you had completely spaced out the entire time.

How?

How…

How did he do that…

It seemed as if something had taken root in the island and had begun changing the chemistry of everything attached to it. First the good moods, now Leeza was walking down Main Street like nothing had happened.

But then when you walked home, you realised how deeply you were dissecting the wonderful event. You wondered if you had become a sceptic without even knowing. Were you so cynical to Gods powers that you questioned his will?

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring down at the rosary in your hands. The little cross glinted in the darkness.

Faith…

Did you lack it?

Had you begun to loose it?

Were you so ungrateful?

You felt tears prickle at your eyes but you refused to let them fall. You needed guidance, not tears. With a heavy heart, you sunk to your knees and began to pray.

It took a full week for you to muster up the courage to ask the Father for an appointment later on Saturday afternoon. Your day to yourself, and your time to relieve your consciousness. Your day to work on yourself.

Which was why you stood on the rectory’s doorstep, fidgeting.

A part of you told you that you were being needy. Selfish. That you just needed to get your head on straight and that you didn’t need to worry the Father with you being self-centred. That if this had been Father Pruitt you wouldn’t have bothered but for some reason you were more willing to see Father Hill.

You knocked, and didn’t have to wait long before the door was being opened. Father Hill stood there with a welcoming smile, “Right on time.” He said, “Come in, y/n.”

You nodded and quietly entered the small house. It felt so strange to be there alone with him. Not uncomfortable just…odd. Like you were somewhere you shouldn’t be.

“Sit, please.” He gestured to the couch, and dragged a chair over from his desk over to sit in front of you.

You perched on the edge, and folded your hands in your lap, “Thank you, Father…I- I know I was a little vague when I asked you to do this…but if I’m honest I’ve always disliked the confessional booth. I’m um…a bit claustrophobic.” You admitted.

He chuckled a little and shook his head, “No apology needed. Sometimes that anonymity that comes with a confessional isn’t right for every confession. I told you I was here when you needed and I meant that.”

His honesty and understanding put you a little at ease. Your nerves were still very much there, though. There was no backing out of this now, so you took a deep breath.

“Have you…have you ever had difficulties with faith, Father?” You asked, eyes flickering to his white collar for half a second.

John admittedly was not expecting that from you. If the implications were that you were having difficulties with faith, then he was surprised. Regardless, he nodded.

“Certainly…we’re all human, even me, and we are made to have ups and downs no matter how dedicated we are to our Lord.” He said gently, resting his elbows on his knees.

You stared back at him, hard. You knew you were ridged. You hadn’t opened up to a soul about this turmoil you had begun to feel, and you hoped to God that Father Hill was the right person to hear you.

You clenched your hands against each other, and put your trust in him.

“I think…I think I’ve become…” you swallowed again when your throat became tight.

Be straightforward.

“I think I’m losing my faith, Father…” you pursed your lips, “It might sound silly for me to say that because you see me at church every day and I’m committed to the community, but I think that I’ve been losing my true love for my faith for a long time…” you whispered. Hearing it out loud made tears start to well in your eyes. You didn’t know why exactly, though perhaps it was the sense that you had failed yourself, your family, your community and your God.

“I’m here with you, y/n…keep going.” He took your hand, and gazed at you, encouraging you.

You took a tight breath.

“It’s just always been a part of my life- getting up and going to Mass and praying before bed and reading the Bible and being a good girl who doesn’t ask too many questions and puts everyone else first and keeps her head down…” you could feel tears start to fall.

“I never really thought about it but…it’s been a couple years now and…it just gets heavier and heavier and I don’t want that burden.”

You bit at your bit as you let everything out, “I read a lot. The internet connection out here is horrible but I’ve done a lot of research on the Bible to try and deepen my understanding and I just find myself tripping over questions, and holes that don’t have answers…things that have been added only a few hundred years ago and things that have been forgotten or omitted…I’ve never even mentioned this to anyone…I think they would assume I was joking because it’s just…a part of who I am. Who I’ve always been…”

You slowly looked back up to Father Hill, and found him watching you patiently. Non-judgemental, just waiting for you to have your time.

John slowly reached out and took your hands in his. You were hanging onto his every move, and he took your silence as a cue to speak.

“Ma-may I?” He asked, and you nodded, “This isn’t about God.”

You blinked. You weren’t expecting that.

Father Hill started again, elaborating,“You feel you’re losing your faith, but I think what you’re losing is yourself. Your sense of self…so much of having faith is endurance and I know you have that. You have faith, young lady and I know you won’t let anything take it from you. You know how I know?” He asked you.

You shook your head.

“Because you’re afraid.” He whispered, his large thumb rubbing your knuckles gently.

You let a tear fall as you held his gaze.

“Because you came here. Luke said “His mercy extends to those who fear him.” And I think that is exactly what will happen for you. I think your fear of God is just a testament of your faith. And I believe you will be granted a great mercy.”.”He said passionately, “But I think what you are truly going through is a need for guidance in yourself.”

You stared at him for a long moment. Perhaps a full minute.

Another tear fell.

Then another.

Then many.

Until you couldn’t see and your cheeks were soaked.

“Shh…shh, that’s okay, I’m with you…shh.” He cooed to you, “I’m here to help…” the Father scooted a little closer.

You nodded, trying to get a hold of yourself, “Sorry-I’m sorry-“

He squeezed your hands.

Had he been holding your hand this entire time?

You took slow shaky breaths until you could speak again.

“I love everyone here…and I do love my life here. It’s simple and fairly easy…but…I can’t help but feel I’m missing something. Like I pretended to be some expectation for so long that now it’s become me and I don’t know how else to be. But realising it is so much worse than just living that way. Delusion is an amazing thing.”

Father Hill sat still for a moment as he thought. “I think being honest will help that turmoil you feel. Nothing too out of your comfort zone but…just enough that you feel truer to yourself…I have been where you are…many years ago. Just as many have.” His voice lulling you into a state of calm.

You looked up at him, eyes starting to dry.

“I had an older sister…” he said gently, “She passed when I was 8…and her death was why I began to look at God and his divine plan and that was where I found my faith. I questioned why and how her death fit into everything and how her death was justified by Him and…in that quest to grieve and find answers, I found some, but I also found God. You are on a similar journey right now and you will find what you’re looking for. It might even be given to you when you least think it will come to you…it may even hurt at first but in time I think you might grow to see it as a revival.”

His words settled into your head, and you sat in comfortable silence for a few moments. One last tear fell, “Thank you, Father Hill.” You smiled.

The older man reached up and gently wiped that last tear away and patted your hand, “For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you…” he murmured.

You nodded, and sniffled.

“I’ll make some tea.” He said, and stood after one last reassuring look at you. Somehow his calm seeped into you and your body welcomed it like it was made to. Your shoulders were relaxed as was your jaw. You felt at peace with having gone to him.

John needed a moment away from your proximity. It was a miracle he could keep his composure as you sat there- shooting pains rocked his stomach as hunger brutalized his body.

“I noticed St. Patrick’s has been fuller…” you murmured, wanting to direct attention from you.

“Ah- yes well it seems little Leezas recovery has reawakened the faith of many.” He agreed, regaining a steady voice.

“The island has had a religious revival Father,” you said as he returned with two cups of tea, “The only thing that’s changed…is you.” You looked up from the cup in your hands to gage his reaction. It had indeed been something you noticed, as had many people especially after Leeza…

He tapped the edge of his cup as he took a seat beside you on the couch.

You tried to give him the nudge to speak just as he had for you, “You don’t know what it was like before…I haven’t seen people so engaged in sermons before. You…you have a true gift. You have helped to resurrect this island, Father Hill.”

“I’m glad you see it that way.” He smiled a little.

“You help people everyday.” You turned to look at Father Hill directly.

“So do you.” The man shrugged nonchalantly.

Your nose scrunched a little, “Not really…I try to support my community, but I don’t know about helping.”

“No- no. You do, don’t deflect- you do,” Father Hill shook his head, “You know you do too but you’re so used to it that it’s second nature. That’s a blessed attribute to have.” He insisted, “Especially since things haven’t exactly been easy here since that oil spill. I can only imagine…”

You pursed your lips.

“It’s been…difficult. It’s better now but it was horrible for a long time. I just…” you looked down at the warm liquid in your cup, “I believe you can’t wait for life to be easy before you decide to start helping the people you love.” You muttered.

John felt his heart tug- this time not out of pain. It was a tug of sorrow. As he gazed at this young woman beside him he began to feel as if the two of you were kindred spirits of some kind. You both shared a look, and John found that he had come to understand you a little better, and he began to understand why you were the one he saw first that day on the dock.

You parted ways with the Father sometime later into the evening. It had been a little odd how he had almost ushered you out as soon as he had noticed the darkness outside. He had said something about not wanting a young woman like you being outside at night. You had almost laughed at how old he had sounded.

John had caught the tug of your lips that you hid by ducking your head down. He liked that you smiled around him- that you weren’t afraid…

It would make everything so much easier. You are already to receptive to his guidance…

You left the rectory that night feeling as if something had taken root in you too. Perhaps it was the Fathers spirit of hope settling into your sinew and melding with your blood that had you feeling a little more…looked after.

Cared for.

Seen.

You felt as if you truly were not alone. Like he was always with you even as you walked home.

After your confession, you found yourself bumping into the Father often in town. On a few occasions he walked you home after your working day was done if he happened to be in the area, and you even stopped by the rectory to borrow a book. You found a deep solace being near the preacher, and in your need for a cure to your listlessness, you didn’t even stop to think if you were following his word or God’s.

His sweet, compelling, passionate words that seemed to evoke such a vivaciousness in you.

You started bringing batches of baked goods on Sundays too. Nothing extravagant, but something for the worshipers to enjoy after. There was something in you, pushing you to do better, but on your own terms. Doing it for your own pleasure and not the pleasure of others.

You noticed how that laughter from the potluck was now a common thing. Smiles were normal. You heard people joking, and going for evening walks and morning jogs. Kisses and hugs.

Was there something in the air?

But while you were enjoying your new outlook on life, John could not be more worried for you. It had been two weeks now that he wasn’t able to give you the sacrament. He had tried once more after your first comment but he heard you say something to Bev about it.

Certainly you had a little of the gift in you…but it wasn’t enough. Perhaps a tablespoon. Only enough to make you feel a little brighter, but not enough to…to change. Revive.

He was at a loss.

But the more he prayed, the more he came to realize that perhaps it wasn’t your time. It would come. He knew it would. It had to. And when it did you too would be blessed…even if he was the one to bless you himself.

“Three weeks ago, when we began this journey of repentance, I asked those of you were here to keep a few words in mind. Rebirth, second chances, eternal life. That's a lot to wrap your head around, isn't it? I can barely visualize next week, let alone eternity, But, I mean, for most of us, eternity, it’s an abstract. It’s a metaphor, a colorful exaggeration. When we’re waiting for something we want, it takes forever.We sit in traffic for an eternity. Abstracts, metaphors, colorful exaggerations. To us, maybe, but not to God. Not to Him. ..” he said thoughtfully, “And it shouldn’t be for us, either. Communion, the transformation of bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ. A metaphor? No,” he slapped the pulpit, “God tells us. Miracles, walking on water, rising from the dead. Abstracts? No.” He slapped it again, “God tells us. Eternal life, a colorful exaggeration?”

You heard Wade say “no”, and the verbalisation made you jump a little. No one usually spoke.

“No? That’s right. You call it out.God’s gifts are as tangible as the ground beneath our feet,” he stomped the pedestal, and you jumped again.

“And His covenant, it’s not abstract. No. It’s a contract, scrawled in flesh, inked in the blood of the martyrs. And yet, try as we might, we cannot visualize, we cannot mentally picture the rewards promised…” you noticed him fan himself for a moment, and you were suddenly snapped from your trance.

Was he alright?

“Well, if you’re here seeking to know answers to the unknowable, it’s incumbent upon me to tell you that I have none. And if you want to know why or how God’s will shapes the world, brothers and sisters, so do I. I don’t have all the answers. Nobody does. What I do have though, and what God gives us plentifully, are mysteries.God gives us miracles very rarely, here and there, but mysteries?…”

Your worry began to grow when the Father stopped all together. He seemed to adjust himself where he stood, though somehow he still didn’t seem quite right.

“Sorry. Um…As�� adults, we tend to dislike mysteries. We… We feel uncomfortable not knowing.No. To be a child. To look with awe and wonder, and live with staggering honesty. To be guiltless, light as air. To bend softly as the word of God sweeps…” he speech began to grow almost wandering. As if he wasn’t entirely lucid…almost like the old Monsignor-

John felt his stomach twitch with pain as he stood before his growing flock. He could barely see let alone think as his body seemed to betray itself.

“I’m very sorry. I’m…Sorry, I’m just a little bit tired today. A tiny dizzy spell. It’s passed. I’m fine. Sorry. I’m very sorry. Um…The more that we know, the less we bend. The more brittle we become, the easier to break. Like some would say this island broke. Was broken. But I am here to tell you…the resurrection, body and soul, the redemption, body and soul, the miracles waiting for us here on Crockett Island. Not metaphors, not abstracts, not colorful exaggerations, no. Rebirth, second chances. Eter…”

You watched in horror as Father Hill tumbled to the ground with a thud. There was a rush to help him, but your mind seemed to click into gear when you quickly grabbed one of the phones left on a pew and dialled Dr. Gunning’s office.

She barely got a word out before you; your voice shook as you spoke quickly, “The- Father Hill- he’s collapsed, please come up to the church, Doctor.” You rushed out.

“Calm down, calm down, is he breathing?” She said, calm as ever.

You stood quickly and rushed over to the crowd. Without a thought, you knelt beside the Father and placed your ear on his chest.

“What on earth-“ Bev started to ask, from her spot beside you, but you didn’t pay attention as you sat up again and put the phone to your ear.

“Yes he is.” You said.

“I’ll be there soon. Get him some air if he wakes up.” She sighed.

You nodded, and hung up.

“Well?” Bev snapped at you.

You blinked, “Dr. Gunning- She’ll be here soon…water- uh can- can someone get some cool water and a towel please?” You tried to think of anything you could do to help in the meantime.

Someone started to go, but it seemed Bev wanted to be involved. “I’ll get it.” She huffed and disappeared from your side.

Wade crouched beside you, and checked over Father Hill. He looked over at you and you gave him a reassuring smile. “I think the Father could use some air, Mr.Mayor.”

He nodded and looked up that the distressed crowd.

“It’s alright everyone. If he could get some room please? He needs extra air…Sturge could you open the door please?” Wade asked.

The man in question nodded and did as he asked while the townspeople began to disperse.

Bev returned a moment later and you took the cloth from her and dampened it from the bowl of water.

“Thank you…” you mumbled, then very gently began to dab at Father Hill’s forehead, then at the skin peaking out from his chasuble around his neck.

A few minutes passed with Beverly fussing in the background, but slowly you noticed his colour returning, and eyes start to flicker until they opened slowly. You felt relief fill you up and you sighed.

John gazed up at you and he swore there was a halo surrounding your head as you sat over him. Your brows scrunched in worry, but your watchful eyes gazing down at him.

“Glory be…” Came his whisper.

You looked down at him and wiped his brow once more. The man blinked a few more times then went to sit up, but several hands rushed to keep him down.

“Slowly, Father…slowly.” Someone said.

You helped the Father rise up to sit, and dabbed the back of his neck. “You passed out Father.” you said.

“I’m sorry- so sorry…” he nodded. grinding his teeth slightly when a wave of pain hit him, “I’m…uh not sure what’s wrong with me today.” He said as humorously as he could, though both he and the islanders knew there was nothing to joke about.

Even as you watched Sturge and Wade help him into the rectory with Sarah and Bev, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something gravely wrong with him. Not that you have ever exactly noticed anything…but certainly there were times where he seemed to almost clench, and work through a minor pain- covering it with a cough or stretch. Things that were so barely there you wouldn’t even think twice.

While that day was your day to yourself and the shop was closed, you found that you were listless. Worried, curious. Fretting.

So silly really.

You mindlessly baked a batch of muffins, and remembered halfway through how much the Father liked them. On more than one occasion he had stopped by to purchase a few.

You put a few in a container, and set out on your bike across the island. You hoped he was doing well… if he didn’t answer you were content with just leaving them on his stoop, though you found yourself wanting to see for yourself that he was alright.

You leaned your bike by the church, and strode over to the rectory. It was still afternoon, and you hoped you could catch him before he went to the Gunnings. You thought it was so sweet that he did that for Mildred.

You knocked, and waited. It was quiet for a long moment, then the door opened slowly. Father Hill stood before you disheveled. His top button was undone, collar missing, and his hair looked to have been brushed back with his fingers.

“Oh- y/n please…come in.” He moved aside.

You looked to the side then slowly walked into the small home. It was cozy and simple. It felt warm. “I’m so sorry for bothering you father…I’m sure you’ve had plenty of people coming by to check on you…” you trailed off, looking for a spot to but the container down.

“Nonsense…I was hoping you could come actually…” he said quietly, gingerly perching against the edge of the kitchen counter, “I wanted to thank you.”

That caught you off guard.

You blinked, and shook your head, “What for?”

“For extending that helping hand of yours to me. It was a joy to be helped by you. A blessing- you are a uh, a blessing.” Father Hill stared back at you like he meant every word he said and more, though you couldn’t help but notice the slightly delirious stare he had.

You hadn’t expected anything like this when you had set out to drop off the muffins still in your hands, but you found yourself growing warm at his praise.

“I-well I just…-“

“Just what? Did what anyone would do?” He cut you off, smiling a little wearily.

“Yes…”you admitted.

“And did anyone else do what you did?” He prodded, head tilting so slightly to the side.

You looked down, then back up at him, and shook your head.

“And now you come here again to my aid with something that is not a casserole you see you truly are just wonderful.” He smiled a little more, and you did too, and laughed.

“Ah… the Crockett islanders at their finest. If ever you’re sick you will have at least a few of those in your fridge by night fall.” You joked, though it was true, “I- um I remember you liked those muffins that I made last week and I was worr- I made some extra and thought you might like them.” You caught yourself.

“Thank you, dear girl…” he said, but winced when he went to say something else. You placed the container down on the counter beside him and gently put your hand on his arm.

“Father? Are you feeling dizzy?” You asked.

“I- I am just a little…” he admitted, blinking a few times to get through the fog.

“I’ll help you to your room. Rest for a while, alright?” You took his arm and slowly directed him to the back of the rectory where you assumed he slept.

“I’m fine…just tired.” He tried to reassure you.

“I’m sure you are Father.” You walked him to the edge of his bed, and sat him down, “Rest. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“You’re a good girl, y/n, thank you. You’ve made this adjustment blessedly easy.” He told you, staring up at you.

You saw something in his weary gaze then. You didn’t know what it was. But you somehow noted it in your mind.

You squeezed the hand of his that held yours, “Rest, Father. God willing, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Father Paul nodded, “You will.” He smiled weakly.

You released his hand, and gave him a small wave before leaving the small house. You felt sorry for the man being all alone there, but you were sure Bev would be by to pester him soon if she hadn’t already.

Then as you picked your bike up, you heard the crunching of gravel under shoes. You looked up to see the very woman. “Hello Bev.” You called to her.

“Ah, y/n. I do hope you haven’t bothered Father Hill too much.” She smiled tersely.

“Not at all. Just dropped off something that wasn’t a casserole.” You smiled a little more genuine.

“Well, thank you for your contribution. Very kind.” With that she turned and began to walk past you. You half considered telling her he was resting, but you knew it wouldn’t deter her. You sighed, and peddled away.

Another shift had begun around you. Off balanced.

You noticed it in small things.

Not necessarily bad, but not especially good. Less and less wildlife hummed around the bushes and trees, and you noticed how there was such a divide between the attitudes of church goers and non. Conversing with someone who didn’t attend now felt like a bucket of cold water in comparison to those who you saw regularly. Like there was a bubble around the parishioners. And you weren’t certain you liked that.

Your worry only deepened when you went to Mass the next morning only to see that it would be candelled that day. A frown tugged at your mouth, though you tried to not think too much about it. The Father was ill, you knew that. It was nothing else but that.

It wasn’t as if you knew that the very man was dodging the gaps in the curtains to look out at his flock returning to their homes and jobs without their daily Mass. And of course there you stood- a worried look muddling your beautiful face.

Had you always been so pretty?

Vibrant.

A halo around your hair where the sun caught it.

John watched you back away from the church, though he saw you clench and unclench your hands and look to and from the church to the rectory. You wanted to check on him. Such a dutiful lamb.

Something visceral in him made him nearly open the door and call you inside. Beckon you to him. Just as he felt that need there was an ache in his mouth like he needed to bite, hard. A side affect to…to dying he supposed. He put his trust in God but this hurt was unbearable.

John prayed and wept and doubled over as he accepted and waded through the pain. The bulk of it finally subsided by the evening. It seemed almost as if as soon as the sun had gone down his body relaxed.

Just a little.

Enough to make himself look presentable, and step out from his front door no matter how nervously.

Like his body knew he was safe with the sun down. No more burns.

As he strode across the island, John found himself marvelling at the new-found beauty around him. Living halos of light around the stars, and lamplights. Colours and smells and sounds he had never experienced. He could almost feel the earth breathe.

Seeing Millie in her home that night was something special. She remembered him. Saw him. He could have weapt just by seeing the look of recognition on her face. Feeling her hands hold his and that smile. John’s heart ached.

As did his stomach. Painfully.

So hungry.

John hurried along after the little reprieve with Mildred, but found himself taking a little detour. He didn’t mean to; his feet just took him that way. Just a little bit of a longer walk home.

Past your house.

Your curtains were open again.

John found himself walking a little closer, something enticing drawing him in. He stood just outside your window. You were just getting ready for bed…he could almost smell you; all fresh from the shower.

John sighed, then winced when another surge of hunger punched his stomach. That ache he had felt in his jaw returned tenfold, and he felt his vision start to fade.

There was nothing to do but get back to the rectory. Quickly. John employed his long strides and muttered prayers under his breath. He needed to be away. Hide. There was no preparation for this next phase of revival. He wasn’t ready. This deep carnal hunger was eating away at him. He needed more of the sacrament.

Now.

He needed help. John paced the rectory, and felt his nerves and veins and muscles and tendons tugging at him, begging him for nourishment. Feed me, Father, feed me.

“Angel of God my, guardian dear to whom Gods love commits me here…”

He mindlessly grasped the bottle of communion wine, and let it empty down the back of his throat yet it somehow wasn’t enough. He needed more.

More more-

“Uh…Father?”

Something deep inside John Pruitt unfurled then. It began to seep into his tissue and into his bloodstream. John turned, startled.

“Oh…Hello Joe.”

The following morning was a little bit of a slow one for you. You half considered calling the rectory just to see if there would indeed be Mass at all, but decided against it. You brushed your hair, and tied it back; grabbed any extra ingredients you needed for the morning and set off.

Even as you kneaded the doughs and whipped cream and stirred batter you found yourself lagging.

The walk to Mass was slow too.

Off kilter.

You took your usual seat, but your brows pinch together when you saw Ali sitting not too far from you. You looked to see if Hassan had come with him, but to only deepen your confusion, he was alone. You leaned forward a little in your pew, “Ali?” You murmured loud enough for him.

The boy jumped a little, but relaxed when he saw it was you.

“Come.” You smiled and patted the spot beside you, and he instantly looked grateful. Ali stood and made his way back to you, and you sent him another smile as he sat. You didn’t ask him why he was there, it wasn’t your business. You had always liked Ali- a sweet boy with good manners for the most part.

Then, you looked to the other side of the church, and noticed that Erin was missing. She never missed Sunday Mass. Never.

Something in your stomach curled tight.

An anxious feeling of anticipation.

Without the presence of Father Hill to envelope the church, you found yourself gazing around the building. You looked at the windows, and the pews until your gaze fell upon the wooden figure of Jesus crucified.

Had it always been so grotesque?

Were you worshiping a man? God was supposed to be a being that governed over everything…omnipotent…why would he descend to earth in the body of a man? Why would he need to if he created messengers like Moses and Noah and so many others…

Your mind began to spin out of control until you were starting to wonder what you were doing there.

The distress you felt only grew deeper when a half hour passed, and Father Hill still hadn’t made an appearance. You looked over at Annie, then even looked up at that back of Bev’s head as if she might have an answer written there.

Finally the woman had had enough and made her way to the rectory. You perched on your seat, waiting for anything to happen. It was nearly another twenty minutes that passed before Bev returned- faux smile already on her face as she took a spot upon the pulpit.

“Good morning!” She began, “Well I have to tell you it is such a delight to see this church so full every day, thank God. I'm afraid this morning though that we have to - well, I think we'll have to cancel Mass.”

You scrunched your brows in surprise. But then that feeling you had had inside you tilted again, a little more in the wrong direction. Twisting. You felt nauseated.

“Father Paul's bouncing back from a stomach bug, poor thing, and I just had to physically restrain the dear man and put him to bed, he was so determined to be here! He'll be back on his feet in just no time at all but this morning, at least, our dear Dolly Scarborough - come up here Dolly…” she encouraged Dolly to come up beside her, and while the good natured woman did, she was just as confused as the rest of the churchgoers.

There had certainly been times with Monsignor Pruitt when his health was hanging by a thread and Mass was cancelled but…Father Hill was in prime condition how could he still be so ill?

“Uh, maybe Dolly can lead us in singing, and some readings, and some prayer, and we can still celebrate together, like the Christians of old, who sang praises to God long before they had priests to lead the way. Uh let’s start with Hymn number 473, "Be Thou My Vision". Dolly, can you lead us?” Bev looked over to Andy who began to play his organ, and slowly everyone followed Dolly’s singing.

But then you watched as Bev began to leave again, this time accompanied by Sturge and Wade. They disappeared out through the vestibule, and you mentally snapped yourself back from trying to see what happened.

Your curiosity started to gnaw at you so badly you almost missed the cue to sit down.

Mass ended simply…or rather it deflated. A somewhat awkward shuffle out the door was the end of Mass that day. Murmurs and worries stares at the rectory as everyone filed out and meandered down the hill to Main street.

You glanced over to the rectory, and paused when you saw Bev exit. You moved a little back from the entrance along the side of the church to catch her.

“You’re sure Father Hill is alright?” You asked her as she strode to the back door of the church.

“Just fine. In need of a little more rest we think. Nothing to worry about.” She said a little more brightly than usual. You felt in your gut there was a lie in her words.

“Annie’s making a hearty stew tonight I could stop by and bring him some-“

“No!” She snapped, then softened a little when she saw how startled you were, “No, no he needs to be undisturbed today. Thank you, y/n. Bless you.”

You nodded slowly, and flicked your eyes over to the small building. You could have sworn you saw the curtain move.

“Alright, Bev…take care.” You said. Something was making your nerves itch under your skin. Like an internal fear response that you didn’t usually need.

A cord was plucked inside you.

A voice inside you telling you to leave.

It wasn’t that Bev had snapped at you, or that you felt she was hiding something. It was that St. Patrick’s had always been a place of peace and safety for you, and now you found yourself wanting to be far from it. You feet almost itching to run.

You didn’t run. But you did walk quickly. You wished you had taken your bike that day.

You cast one last look at the rectory. Sturge and Wade still hadn’t come out.

Your feet acted for you, and carried you away from the church. Away from that itch.

Once the general store came into view, you hesitated in going directly to your shop. Since Mass had ended early, you didn’t need to start deliveries yet; instead, you walked into the store, and towards the sheriffs office. You waved at the old man working at the counter- Gerald- and knocked on the officers door.

“Come.” Came his voice.

You opened the door, and sure enough, Hassan was seated at his desk, reading a paper from a file on his desk.

“What can I- oh.” He said, then stopped upon seeing you, “Y/n? Everything alright?” He was suddenly concerned at the prospect of you coming to his office.

Your eyes widened, “Oh- yes fine. Sorry um…I just… I don’t know if you want to…talk about it but…I saw Ali today. At Mass.”

Hassan sighed heavily, “Ah…yeah he…” he didn’t finish his sentence.

“Curious?” You asked.

But the man only sighed again, “I love that my son is interested in God and looking for him…but…” he started.

“But you already have God.” You finished for him.

He nodded, “He’s not praying with me anymore…we fight…he just…I can’t lose him.”

You nodded, “I know…I can keep an eye on him, if you’d like?” You offered a little weakly- you knew there wasn’t much you could do.

“Thank you…I don’t want to discourage him but …he’s not Christian. He knows why we’re Muslim and it’s…” he didn’t know where to start with the issue. “Bev Keene handed out bibles at school last week. Since then…” he look his head, “I think he mostly is interested in it because he wants to fit in.” Hassan sighed and rubbed his brow.

You nodded, “I’m sorry Hassan…this…this must be hard to watch. Doesn’t help that he’s a teenager. Teens are…difficult to reason with.”

He huffed out a bitter laugh, “I only pray that he returns to his faith.”

“God willing, he will.” You didn’t know how to comfort the man, but it seemed that just having someone there helped.

“Inshallah…” he muttered.

You tilted your head in question.

“Means “God willing.”…” he explained.

“Ah…” you said. Silence filled the office, and you clasped your hands. “There’s…have you thought about asking to be stationed somewhere else? Maybe somewhere with other Muslims? He might just be missing that connection…”

“I’ve thought about it…hard to uproot a kid again though.” He crossed his arms.

You wanted to help him. You really wanted to help. This man was alone, and was practically ostracized by the very town he was supposed to protect and serve. You were almost certain you were the closest thing he had to a friend, and you needed to say something.

“You know…I don’t really fully believe Jesus is God.” You blurted out.

He looked up at you then.

You flushed. You hadn’t meant for it to come out like that, “Sorry…I just…just because I go to Mass doesn’t mean I believe everything.”

“Aren’t you Christian?” He asked.

“I…used to be. It’s more of a habit that I go to church. Been going since I was a kid. But…when you first came here that was the first time I heard about Islam…properly. You don’t believe Jesus was god either right?” You asked.

He shook his head.

“He was just another messenger…prophet. I did some reading a while ago and I found that the holy trinity is actually a new thing in Christianity…and I began to wonder what else was “new” or what had been taken out…I guess I’m just trying to say that…Ali might look for God somewhere else but you never know…he might find that the church is flawed and just come right back to you and Allah.” You mused.

Hassan felt tears prick at his eyes. “Thank y/n…thank you.”

You smiled, and nodded, “I’ll um…I’ll leave you to it. Come by later. Lunch is on me.”

“You’re gonna make me fat.” He grumbled

“A little pudge is cute.” You shrugged as you opened the door.

“You’re a bad influence.” He shot back- his walls back up as the door to the outside opened- literally.

“Guess you’ll just have to lock me away, sheriff!” You chirped, and smiled, then closed the door.

But as you turned away and walked back through the shop, that smile faded away.

Everything was changing.

Fast…so fast. Hassan and Ali had been on Crockett for close to a year, and you had never heard Ali mention something about church.

You knew the miracle with Leeza had been drawing many people in, but you could still accept it as a miracle without changing your beliefs.

Did he just want to fit in?

Was he just curious?

Then you remembered how you had felt that morning as you waited for Father Hill. That feeling of trepidation that seeded in your navel and seared into your fingertips.

When you unlocked the door to your shop, you wondered if it was because there was nothing to distract you as you sat in the church. Everyday there was something to keep you busy- the doddering Monsignor or now the invigorating Father. Something to guide you. But once you were left with your thoughts…you started to think a little too much.

Now you weren’t stupid- far from it. You thought a lot. Constantly. But there was something pressing about sitting in that church. You almost felt like you had woken up when you had stood outside the rectory.

Nervous.

Yes you had felt…so nervous as Bev stood there with you.

You wondered if that was how lambs felt before they were taken for slaughter.

Oh what a gruesome thought…pull yourself together.

You were spiralling into the morbid.

Tomorrow would be better.

You focused on that. Yes. Yes tomorrow would be better.

GOOD FRIDAY MASS AT 8PM

E4STER VIGIL SUN MIDNIG-

You watched as Sturge finished with the H and T.

That chord in you struck again. You twitched. The dread in your stomach rolling around like a marble on a metal track.

Leeza stood beside you, confused as ever, “Wait…you're saying every night? No morning Masses at all?” She asked.

Sturge sighed, “Time being.”

Your brows scrunched up, but you schooled your expression when Leeza looked over at you. No need to let her see your worry.

“Father Paul probably just needs another morning or two to recover from that head cold- but he’ll be up and about tonight. Isn’t that right Sturge?” Wade tried to reassure the crowd as a good mayor should, but you knew Wade. And you knew something wasn’t right.

“Yessir, spoke with him myself this morning’…feeling’ much better.” Sturge agreed.

You looked over at the weathered man, and noted that he was off too.

Rehearsed.

You made Sturge a birthday cake every year and the extent of his appreciation was a “Thanks.” Sturge was never a man of many words, and defiantly wouldn’t over explain something.

Wade nodded now, “Dolly spoke to him too and he had a few things to say about Good Friday isn’t that right, honey?” He asked his wife.

You turned to the woman in question, and saw that she was looking somewhere else.

“Dolly?” You heard Wade say, but he trailed off

You saw what she was looking at, and you understood why. You had seen Mildred Gunning now a few times on your deliveries to her house, but seeing her up and walking outside made you stop short. Certainly you had noticed how she was practically aging backwards, but you had only assumed Sarah was trying a new treatment for her.

But this. The walk across the island was a half hour on a good day. And there she was in her Sunday best.

The crowd of islanders began murmuring amongst themselves, and began embracing the older woman. You held back just a little, though your practiced smile was on your face. Your eyes found Sarah beside her, and somehow you weren’t sure if you found solace or anxiety in what you saw there.

She had the same look on her face that you were hiding on yours under your smile.

It wasn’t grim, but it wasn’t joyous.

You slowly began back into town. You missed Mass. You missed that energy that the good Father Hill brought to the church. You missed-

You shook yourself.

Stop it.

What’s wrong with you?

Suddenly, that perfect little routine you had made for yourself for years…was crumbling. You no longer felt the peace you once did, and now it seemed you had to flip the routine completely.

Nightly Mass.

You pursed your lips.

“Have a minute?”

You turned and saw the Sheriff coming towards you as you unlocked your door.

You nodded and grinned softly, “Morning, sure thing.”

The two of you entered the little store and you closed it behind you.

“Everything okay?” You asked when Hassan stood quietly.

“You know that kid, Bowl?” He asked.

You blinked, “Sure I do. Bit of a troubled kid.”

Hassan nodded, “You seen him lately?”

You frowned, “Can’t say I have.”

“Alright…worth a shot. You’re the youngest one here aside from the kids so…just wanted to ask.” He sighed.

“I’m sorry…” you wrung your hands, “Have um…have you seen Joe lately?” You asked, suddenly remembering the quietness in the sheriffs office and lack of grumbled greetings.

At that the sheriff hung his head a little, “No…no but I need to speak to him…I’ll let you know if I find him.”

You took a breath in and held it a little to try and calm yourself, “Alright.”

“I’ll see you later, y/n. Don’t work too hard.” He murmured, as he opened the door.

“You too, Hassan.” You said a little absentmindedly.

He left you to your thoughts. With Mass cancelled again, you had far too much time to kill before you really needed to start deliveries.

You sat on your little stool behind the counter, and found a book Father Hill had lent you almost a week ago under your receipt box.

The Divine Comedy: Dante’s inferno.

You began to read. Too afraid to let your thoughts run rampant again.

Nightime wasn’t much better. You felt something pulling in you to go and visit the rectory. No one outside of the Scarboroughs, Sturge and Bev had seen the Father, and there was that nagging feeling in you that you needed to see if he was alright. Why couldn’t he just come out to tell everyone he was on the mend? What was there all this dancing around?

You stood on your porch, cardigan pulled tight around you as you fought with yourself internally.

Then, just as you went to take a step, a gust of wind pushed you back. You felt that anxiety strum within you once again. Your gut cried to you to not go, and with blood running cold, you went inside and shut the door.

You closed your curtains that night, and prayed to any God that would listen. You didn’t know why fear had rooted itself so deep within your heart, and somehow that frightened you more.

You were afraid.

So afraid.

Good Friday. You put on that dress your mom had gotten you last year for Christmas- she said it brought out your eyes. You grabbed a warm sweater, and socks, and left for Mass.

It was strange walking across the island as the sun set. You strode calmly, pushing that nagging feeling that sat in the back of your throat away.

“Y/n!”

You turned and saw Sarah and Mildred walking behind you not too far. You smiled, “Hello you two!” You chirped. You might have been suffering from an internal turmoil but you weren’t about to let them know.

“Sarah, Mrs.Gunning. Happy to see you both coming tonight.” You smiled and fell into step with them.

Mildred nodded, “It’s been years…” she mused, then stopped and held your arm, “You’ve been so good to us over the years, dear…Sarah’s been telling me and…I wanted to thank you.”

You waved her off and smiled, “Oh it was nothing. Happy to make your lives easier.”

“You have…really. Thank you.” Sarah nodded, a tight smile on her lips.

“You’re a good girl, y/n.” Mildred smiled gently.

You returned it, “Come on…hopefully Father Hill is well enough to preach today.”

The three of you walked the rest of the way, and you noticed how many times Mildred was stared at. She smiled and nodded when people looked, breaking any tension. Then as you walked up to the church, you saw Bev standing to greet the parishioners.

You smiled at her, though she looked straight past you to greet Mildred. You nodded to Sarah, and left them there to talk.

You took your seat, and not long after, the Gunnings took theirs directly in front of you. You wondered if that was where Mildred used to sit before she grew too ill.

Several more minutes passed, until you heard that low voice of the good father from the door of the church to begin service, “All rise for our processional hymn- number 139 in the red hymnal: At the cross , at the cross.”

You rose to your feet, and began to sing, but you couldn’t help but feel relieved that Father Hill was alright. It had been days since only a couple people saw him, and while you would never assume any deception from your elders…the secrecy seemed so strange.

“They took the body of Jesus, and bound it with the burial cloths along with the spices, according to the Jewish burial custom.” Dolly stood on the pulpit, reading from her bible. The church was full around you, and you found yourself slowly feeling at ease. You felt so silly for having been distressed.

“Now in the place where he had been crucified, there was a garden, and in the garden, a new tomb in which no one had yet been buried. So, they laid Jesus there because of the Jewish preparation day. For the tomb was close by. The Gospel of the Lord.” She finished.

“Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.” You and the other churchgoers answered.

Then as soon as Dolly stepped down, you found your eyes locked onto Father Hill as he took his place. You took a moment to take him in after it being a few days of not seeing him. Indeed he did look well- skin no longer waxy and pale. There was something else to his presence though, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It almost felt like…home. What you came for. What you took comfort in.

That thought startled you.

“Good Friday. This is one of my favorite days of the year. The passion of our Lord. Just that word, “passion.” The word “passion,” it means a strong and barely controllable emotion. Barely controllable. That’s what Jesus felt when he gave his life for us, so that we might have life eternal. What a gift, told so beautifully in the Gospel of John. “Gospel” means good news! Good news on Good Friday. And yet, it’s a story of such profound suffering. What’s so good about that?” He paused to take in the filled church. You could see the pride he felt having brought the community together. You smiled a little.

“Jesus’s suffering in this story, it isn’t simply necessary. It is good. It is the price of eternal life. That suffering, he endures alone. At the Resurrection, he is alone. And then… Well… Ah, he has a few allies. And then more. A congregation. And then more and more people spread that good news. Tell that good story. And then, God has an army. What do they say in that commercial? Uh, “Be all that you can be.” Well, I mean no offense to the armed services, which are necessary and of course honorable, but that’s not all that you can be. In the Army, you’re fighting for God and country.”

You heard a few people murmur amongst you; admiration shining in their eyes as they listens to their preacher.

“Now, I am going to offend you now, but it is the truth. God does not want you to fight for this country. The arrogance… of that. God has no country. There is one God for the world. And the lines we draw, and the treaties we draft, and the borders we close mean nothing to Him. No, don’t fight for a country. You fight for God’s kingdom. A kingdom which Jesus tells us has no flags or borders. God’s army.”

You felt your throat tighten and your nose prickle.

“Now make no mistake. It is a war. That’s what an army is for.So, as a congregation, as God’s army, how do we know how the fight is going? We can’t see it. We can’t radio HQ for a status report. All we have, all God gives us, is right here.” He pointed to his chest, “How we feel. That moral compass inside each one of us pointing due north to the Holy Spirit. Conscience. In the army of God, conscience is standard issue. There are many like it, but this one is mine. You may think that that’s a line from a war movie, but it isn’t. That’s actually the Rifleman’s Creed. And a creed is, by definition, not just a belief, but it is a religious one. ” You could feel yourself hang onto each word. Rapt.

“So, it is a war, and there will be casualties. And we must be soldiers. That is what Good Friday is about. God will ask horrible things of you. Horrible. Just look at what He asked of His own son. Just look at what Jesus had to endure today. We had to call it the “New Covenant,” because God’s will, while perfect, changes.God’s will dictates morality, and as God’s will changes, so does morality change. It changed with the New Covenant. It changed when Jesus came, and we must, as his army, shed the Old Covenant and listen only to that. You rely on that compass. Good Friday is only good. The Gospel of the Lord, so full of horror, is only good, because of where it is headed. The Resurrection. Today is only good because of what’s coming Easter, this Sunday. When Jesus is risen, and death itself is lain dead. What is otherwise horrible is good because of where it’s headed. Welcome to God’s army. Yeah, we’re gonna do great things.”

Your blood rushed in your ears as Father Hill finished.

You somehow felt refreshed…full. You supposed you needed that sense of belonging amongst the other islanders. But when you went to converse with the Gunnings, you were surprised to see them already shuffling out towards the door as soon as Sturge had opened them. You wondered if perhaps it was all too tiring for Mildred and they needed to get home soon.

You sighed, and stood to find Annie. She was there with Ed, but they seemed off too. “Hi Annie, Ed…any plans for Easter?” You asked as you joined them in the thinning crowd.

But then you saw the anxiety in the older woman’s eyes. You knew instantly that something was very wrong. “Annie?” You asked, putting a hand on her arm.

“Oh it…it’s nothing. You know me.” She waved it off, “We uh were thinking of having a nice family dinner. You’re welcome to come of course.” She forced a smile.

You waited patiently with a gentle nod until she told you what was going on. She always did.

“Riley…he- we haven’t seen him all day.” She finally said.

Your brows pitched in worry, “Oh I’m- I’m sorry…maybe he’s with Erin? They’re close right?” You asked, trying to keep their spirits up.

“Probably. Like I said it’s nothing.” She reassured you again, “Anyways, isn’t that the dress your mom got you? What was it…your birthday last year?” She changed the subject, and you let her.

“Christmas.” You smiled, “Thought I’d pull it out of the closet.”

“You look lovely. See you tomorrow?” She asked, already moving out and down the aisle with the remaining parishioners and pulling Ed with her.

“Most likely! You know me…always around.” You nodded, following after them.

“Take care now!” She called back, and her husband gave you a small wave before they disappeared down the stairs and onto the road.

Now left to your solitude, you felt butterflies take wing in your stomach. You sucked in a breath, and began down the stairs after saying goodbye to another few islanders you knew speaking to Bev. You stepped outside, head a little in the clouds when you nearly jumped.

“There she is. How are you, my dear girl?” Father Hill stood at the bottom of the stairs wishing each of his flock goodbye.

You looked up at him as you came to stand beside him. But he wasn’t as vibrant as he usually was. You noticed a certain darkness in his eyes…

Of course he looks like that he’s been sick for days

You mentally throttled yourself.

“I’m well, thank you Father. You seem better.” You smiled a little, though perhaps not as wide as usual.

He noticed.

“Yes…yes much, thank you. Everyone has been so accommodating with me…so helpful. Good people.” He mused.

You nodded, “They are.”

John could almost feel your pulse in his head as you gazed up at him- so docile. The light from St. Patrick’s spilled over you and lit you like a holy revelation. He could smell your skin from his place a few feet away…could tell that you washed your hair not too long ago. But despite the loveliness of having you so close, John knew something in you was shifting.

You were more…anxious. Looking for justification to trust.

Skittish but still coming to his presence so diligently.

Like you didn’t even know what you were afraid of.

No need to fear sweet lamb…I am with you…

You started to shift away from him then, but it almost seemed like he didn’t quite want you to go. His gaze still locked onto you. “I trust I’ll see you on Sunday?”

You laughed a little, “No, no I think I’ll skip it.”

His face seemed to fall for a moment, but when you didn’t stop smiling it clicked that you were joking. “Oh- yes…you’re kidding.” He smiled with you, “Please do come. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” Father Paul added earnestly.

You felt that tug in your chest just like when you had gone to the rectory to speak with him weeks ago.

You felt seen.

Appreciated.

“Well I…I’ll be there, Father. Rest.” You said, backing away, “Have a blessed night!”

John took a slow step toward you, but no more than that. He knew not to press his luck with your trust. Didn’t want to scare you off.

“And you, y/n.” He waved to you.

You turned and began your walk. But just as you had felt at home when Mass had begun, you felt a little empty as you walked away. You felt that tug grow more insistent the further you went; so much so that you turned before descending the hill to look back.

Father Hill was in discussion with Wade, but once you stood still, his head snapped to you.

You startled a little.

But it wasn’t so much the fact that he noticed you.

It was the strangest thing…you could have sworn you saw the light of the church catch his eyes and make them glint in the dark.

It happened so fast that you told yourself you just needed your day off. You were just tired.

You needed some sleep.

That was why you felt the contentment you had just been floating on start to drain away. That was why you felt so at ease when the Father spoke to you. Just tired.

You had no way of knowing then that it was the little bit of tainted blood in your system that was calling out to its patron. That it was humming around the others who shared the gift too…communicating internally with one another- somehow knowing that you’re like them.

By the time you were home, you felt as if the weight of the world was yours to uphold. Worry began to consume you as your thoughts swirled in the silence.

Riley was missing.

Joe was missing.

Pike was dead.

Bowl was missing.

You stopped brushing your hair for a moment. You hadn’t thought of the strange happenings like that before. Indeed there was quite a few. You had lived on Crockett your whole life you knew that the maximum a person could go missing for was a day and that was pushing it.

How long had Joe been missing…?

Your gut began to twist again, and you almost fell to your knees when you knelt to pray.

You didn’t know what was happening to you. To your home.

Fear began to encircle your heart, and you almost considered running back to the church to sleep on a pew.

You felt alone.

For the first time in a long time, you felt so very alone.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@littleredwritingcat @zaunite-leo @f4er1e-g1rl @purplemotif @vampyre-kin @professional-sinner @hamishlinklaters @spacechupss @pansexualpamandabear @ebiemidnightlibrarian @erialuna @nilla-bear

#midnight mass #hamish linklater #father paul hill #father john pruitt x reader #father john pruitt #forgive me father for i have sinned #father paul hill x reader #flanaverse #midnight mass fanfiction

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atlabeth · 1 year ago

Text

leave the door open - anthony lockwood

summary: no matter what happens, there's always the light underneath the door. the sign that, when you're ready, he'll let you back in with open arms.

a/n: obviously inspired by leave the door open by silk sonic because i could (and have) listen to it on repeat for hours. this spiraled way out of control but im honestly really happy with it and i hope you all are too!

wc: 8.2k

warning(s): mild angst, arguing, hurt/comfort, mildly serious injury, short scene with a gun/gunshot wound, but the whole first half of the fic is fluff and it is all wrapped up w a fluffy ending

127.

128.

129.

13–

Your focus was broken as police sirens blared past your window, and you let out a long-lasting sigh. This was the fifth time your count had been interrupted, and you weren’t starting over again.

Trying to sleep was a fruitless endeavor at this point, and that wasn’t going to change no matter how many notches in the wall you counted—you might as well accept it.

You’d never been much for sleeping through the night, but your new home boded worse for it all. A new room, a new house, a new city, a new agency. Being in the thick of it all after what felt like so long on your own was overwhelming, and it still felt like it could all fall apart. Being given the job all because you passed a few tests in the living room didn’t exactly feel like security.

You sighed as you slipped on a sweatshirt and walked out of the attic— your room, at least for now— carefully moving down the steps in an effort to not make much noise.

35 Portland Row was filled with warmth, that much was obvious from your short time here, but that warmth had not yet penetrated your skin. It was all too foreign.

You meant to go to the kitchen and make a midnight cup of tea, but your eyes were drawn to a slightly open door, light spilling out in the cracks. The library, if you remembered correctly from Lockwood’s tour.

It must have been George. You didn’t know much about him, but the way Lockwood described him certainly made him seem like the type to be up pouring over books until the early hours of the morning.

It wouldn’t hurt to say hi. Let him know that they’d added another restless soul into their agency.

You pushed the door open a bit more, knocking on the wall as you leaned against the door frame, and your eyebrows rose slightly when the boy looked up.

“Lockwood,” you said, tamping down on your surprise.

He said your name with a slight smile and a bow of his head. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You nodded. “Have you got room for one more?”

“Always,” he said with a gesture at the seat across from him.

You closed the door behind you and took the offered chair, glancing down at the papers in front of him. “What’s got you up?”

“Bills,” he said dryly. “The mortgage, the utilities, our certification, and now—” he looked at you— “another agent on the payroll.”

“I’ll be sure to try and bring in more than you spend on me,” you said, and he smiled as he set his pen down.

“How thoughtful.” Lockwood laced his fingers together before he leveled his gaze fully at you. “And what’s got you up?”

“Just what I said,” you answered with a shrug. “I couldn’t sleep. I haven’t gotten used to this place yet.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t take too long, because you’re going to hit the ground running,” Lockwood said. “We’ve got a meeting tomorrow with a client, and if all goes well we’ll be having tea with a Visitor by noon.”

“Honestly, that would make me feel like I fit in more,” you said. “I’m much better with the ‘nearly dying’ part of this job than the settling in part.”

He cracked a small smile. “I’m hoping we’ll avoid that part, especially with your help.”

Your eyebrows rose. “You’ve got that much faith in me?”

“I assumed you knew the amount of faith I have in you when I hired you,” Lockwood joked. “Your Touch is just what we’ve been missing.”

“Thank you for taking a chance on me,” you said. “There’s always uncertainty about freelance agents because we work on our own, but I promise I’ll try my best to merge back into a group.”

“Like I said,” Lockwood’s eyes twinkled, “I’ve got full faith in you.”

You chuckled and nodded, and you tapped the desk before you stood up. “I’ll leave you to your devices. Thank you for the talk, Lockwood.”

“Try and get some sleep,” Lockwood said. “After all, tomorrow is when you prove yourself.”

“Ah,” you said sagely. “Tomorrow will determine whether I have a job or I’m back on the streets.”

“I won’t let that happen,” he said, and he looked wholly genuine. “You’re part of Lockwood & Co now, and we take care of our own.”

You nodded, your lips quirking into a small smile. It had been a long time since someone had so clearly said to you that they would watch out for you— that they saw you as more than just your Touch.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

Lockwood nodded, his expression turning slightly wry. “Besides, the only real reason I think I’d fire you is if you got us all killed.”

“You can’t fire me if we’re all dead.”

“I suppose that means you’re thoroughly employed,” Lockwood said with a smile.

You chuckled. “Good to know.”

“Truly, though, try and get some sleep.” He picked up his pen again, clicking it a few times. “We might be London’s smallest agency, but we take cases the likes of Fittes would handle.”

“As long as you try and get some too,” you said.

Lockwood smiled, but there was a notable absence of a promise. “Goodnight.”

“Are you always in the library?” you asked suddenly. “Because I— I find myself awake a lot at night. It would be nice to know when you’re open to chat and when you just want to be alone.”

He nodded. “I’ll leave the door open for you. Just like tonight.”

You stared at him for a moment more, taking in his slightly ruffled hair, his undone tie and rolled up sleeves. The dark circles under his eyes.

“Perfect,” you responded softly. “Goodnight, Lockwood.”

"Goodnight," he repeated, that same small smile on his lips.

You closed the door behind you.

You fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

It was another two weeks until your next sleepless night.

Kept busy with countless cases, you were exhausted near every time you stumbled back through the doors of Portland Row. Part of it was from adjusting back into an agency after being on your own for so long, the other part was the seriously intense jobs that Lockwood kept taking.

And you did adjust, that was true.

You didn’t know if you and George were exactly friends, but he allowed you to help when he cleaned up in the kitchen, and you’d already spent a few afternoons in the archives together—today had been the best, him sharing all the material he found with you and willing to listen to your theories and look at your notes. He was warming up to you, at least.

Lockwood was completely different. He exuded charm, all easy smiles and plying words meant to get someone’s guard down. It was how he operated, how he had to live—everyone underestimated him so he took it upon himself to prove everyone wrong. His name was on the door, after all, as he liked to remind you all.

Maybe that was why he was always up, you thought, because as you slowly moved down the stairs, rubbing grogginess out of your eyes, you noticed that the light was on in the library again. Door slightly cracked open.

You huffed a laugh before you knocked on the frame again, pushing it open to see Lockwood in almost the exact same position as last time. Instead of a variety of papers, though, he was hunched over a map.

He said your name, a small smile already pulling at his lips. “So we meet again.”

“We live in the same house,” you said wryly, “and we work together.”

“All the more reason to be thankful that you put up with me past billing hours,” Lockwood said. You chuckled, and he gestured at the chair across from him. “Take a seat.”

You did, and you tapped your fingers on the table before you took a look at the map. “What’s got you up so late?”

“I’m scouting out a potential job,” he said. “A very old, very haunted mansion owned by a very rich family.”

“I like the sound of that,” you mused.

“So do I.” That spark was in his eye again, and you found yourself watching him as he talked. “The patriarch called me last night, and I met with him and his wife while you and George were at the archives today. He offered the job of clearing his ancestral home, and I told him I would get back to him after I consulted my colleagues.”

“Colleagues,” you hummed. “I like the sound of that too.”

Lockwood chuckled. “I thought after freelancing for so long you would be against working so closely with a team.”

You shrugged. “I needed a change. You lot have been a pretty good one.”

“It’s certainly an honor,” Lockwood said with mock austerity, and you rolled your eyes with a laugh.

“Just get on with it, Lockwood.”

He nodded, and he pushed the map over to you. “I was going to lay it all out for you two tomorrow morning, but since you’re here, I might as well get your opinion on it.”

You took a moment to fully examine it. “Well, it’s certainly very big.” You glanced back up at Lockwood. “How much are they willing to pay?”

He smiled. “Fifty thousand pounds.”

Your eyes about burst out of your head, and you slid the map back over to him. “That’s all I need to hear. I’m in.”

Lockwood laughed and he took it back from you. “You don’t even know anything else about it. You could be walking into a death trap.”

“Every job I did on my own was a possible death trap, and none of them were for fifty thousand pounds,” you said. “I’m in—I don’t care if half of England is haunting that house.”

His smile faded a bit, and he cleared his throat as he looked you in the eye. “You know, you haven't talked much about why you were a freelance agent. Even during the interview.”

Your brows furrowed at the sudden question and you shrugged. “I wanted to be.”

“Everyone knows it’s a lot more dangerous than being in an agency,” Lockwood said. “Ghosts are hard enough to deal with in a group— going on your own is asking for trouble.”

“Before I came in, it was just you and George,” you countered. “You’ve got no supervisors, just the two of you hoping for the best. I’d say that’s asking for trouble.”

“You’re deflecting,” Lockwood said.

You glanced away, finally letting out a sigh as you leaned back in your chair.

“You don’t have to—”

“Because from the moment I discovered my Talent, I’ve heard horror stories from agencies. Entire teams going down on doomed missions, sole survivors left to live with the guilt for the rest of their lives. It happened to one of the teams in my agency, and I knew I wasn’t going to wait for it to happen to me.”

Lockwood’s eyes softened, and he stayed silent as you continued.

“I have no team, I have no roommates—when I’m on my own, no one has to worry about me,” you said quietly. “If something goes wrong, and I die, that’s it. No guilt, no problems, no legal trouble. No mourners.”

Lockwood frowned. “That’s not a very good way to look at it.”

“Never said it was,” you said wryly. “It’s just the way I look at it.”

“Your family would care.”

You shook your head. “They wouldn’t.”

He was silent for a good moment, and then he reached over and took your hand. It was a shock at first, your eyes widening slightly as they darted up to meet his, but he was calm as ever.

“You’ve got us now,” he said. “Lockwood & Co. Me and George. And we’d care very much if you were to die, so I’d appreciate it if you refrained from that.”

That got a watery laugh out of you, and you felt the beginnings of tears behind your eyes for some reason. “I don’t think that was in my contract.”

“It was in the fine print,” Lockwood assured. He looked so much younger when he smiled, like he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“That changes everything then.” Your voice was slightly stilted as you pulled away, and you turned slightly as you wiped at your eyes so he couldn’t see. If Lockwood noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“Try and get some sleep,” he murmured. “If George is on board, we’ve got a very long day tomorrow.”

You nodded, clearing your throat as you stood up. “You too. Can’t go into battle without our fearless leader.”

He chuckled and nodded, his eyes never leaving you as you walked to the door. You paused, setting your hand on the frame, and turned around.

“Thank you, Lockwood,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I mean it.”

He smiled, and you found yourself lost in it for a moment. He really was beautiful. “Any time.”

And so your days continued on as a certified member of Lockwood & Co, becoming more integrated by the hour.

It wasn’t much longer before George took to you, and when you found a break in a case that saved you hours of potential digging through the archives, your spot as ‘respected colleague and potential friend’ was cemented.

Lockwood already knew more about you than most, putting him in the ‘weird friend, weird boss�� category. The man literally never slept, and all the information he knew about you was willingly given to him through late night vulnerability. You needed to start forcing yourself to stay in bed, if not solely to keep some secrets between you.

But— yeah, he was nice. Easy to joke around with, easy to work with, easy on the eyes. You’d smiled and laughed more in a single month at Portland Row than you had in three years as a freelance agent. Far better than the lonely studio apartment you holed up in between cases.

The warmth was beginning to penetrate your skin, you thought with a slight smile.

“What in the world are you doing?”

You were snapped out of your thoughts by a voice. You looked up from the baking sheet to see Lockwood waiting in the doorway with a small smile.

“Stress baking,” you said with a slight chuckle as you continued scooping dough onto the tray.

“At two in the morning?”

You shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep, and extra research wasn’t doing me any good. I had to get the nerves out somehow, and unless I fancied a nice bout with a Visitor, I couldn’t exactly go for a run.”

“So you decided on cookies instead,” he said wryly. “You know, you really should try and get more sleep.”

“Says you.” You finished filling up the tray and you picked it up, glancing at Lockwood as you walked over to the oven. “Every night that I’m up, you’re up too. That’s got to be unhealthy.”

“I’m a busy man,” he responded. “I can’t have half of my employees running around sleep deprived.”

You chuckled. “Good to know you care.”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Always.”

“But you have to care about yourself, too.” You shut the oven and set a timer on your watch, then gestured at the counter where an already finished tray sat. “Try one.”

“Sugar so close to bed?” he joked.

“Oh, please,” you brushed your hand through the air, “we both know you’re not falling asleep any time soon.”

Lockwood cracked a smile as he walked over, picking up a cookie from the sheet. “Chocolate chip?”

“The best,” you confirmed.

He took a bite and he hummed as his eyebrows rose. “Surprisingly good,” he said after he swallowed.

“‘Surprisingly’?” you repeated. “Why can’t they just be normally good?”

“You may have noticed, but George is our resident chef.” Lockwood finished the rest of the cookie, much to your silent delight, and he went to the fridge. “I’m just surprised we’ve got two culinary experts on the team now.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “I’m not anywhere near an expert. I’m much better at baking than cooking, so George has that market cornered.”

Lockwood smiled, and he finished his cup of water. “He’ll be happy to know that. He’d probably love to share some of his recipes with you.”

“I’d love that more,” you said. “His halva the other day was incredible.”

“I’ll let him know. Of course,” his eyes twinkled, “he’d probably be more flattered if you told him yourself. If there’s one thing he’s prouder of than his work in the archives, it’s his work in the kitchen.”

“I’ll be sure to,” you agreed.

“Are you going to sleep anytime soon?” Lockwood asked as usual.

As usual, you rolled your eyes, bit back your smile. “I’ve got two more trays worth of dough. I promise I’ll go after they’re done.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Do you also promise to leave some for us?”

You laughed. “Of course. I didn’t make them just for stress relief, you know.”

“Good,” Lockwood repeated. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. The later morning, rather.”

“You get some sleep too,” you said, pointing your spatula at him, “or else all of these are going to George.”

He placed his fist over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

“Good. Now get out of here.”

Lockwood chuckled as he walked out, spurring a smile of your own. You picked up a cookie and took a bite, humming in approval at the taste.

“Normally good,” you murmured to yourself as you watched the oven. “Not surprisingly good.”

(When Lockwood came down the next morning, there were two plates of cookies sitting on the counter. He moved to take one, but then he noticed the Post-its.

One read GEORGE and one read LOCKWOOD, each in front of their own separate plates. There was another at the top—NO STEALING :) or I will never make cookies again

He chuckled, his mind wandering to you as he finally took one—from his plate, of course—and bit into it.

Normally good, he thought with a slight smile.

A fine addition to the team indeed.)

You yawned as you walked down the hallway, rubbing at your groggy eyes. You couldn’t sleep, as was per usual when you were working on such a big case, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

Your mind ran a thousand kilometers a minute any time you even tried to close your eyes. Truly, you had no idea how George functioned with a brain like his.

You were about to go into the kitchen to make yourself your usual midnight cup of tea, hoping it would work its usual magic, when you saw the door to the library cracked open.

You couldn’t help but smile. He’d told you and George to go to bed early to make sure you were all ready for the job the next day, and here he was. Restless as ever and still a liar.

You pushed the door the rest of the way open, blinking a bit at the lights as you leaned against the frame. “Up late again, Lockwood?” you asked, and he started when he turned to you and said your name.

“You should be asleep,” he said.

“So should you.”

“I’m looking over the floorplans one last time,” Lockwood said. “This place is huge, and I want to make sure I know every part of it.”

“We’ve drilled the exits a thousand times,” you said. “We already know the mansion inside out—cramming at midnight isn’t going to help anyone. Actually being rested for once will.”

Lockwood gave you a wry look. “Awfully strong words coming from you.”

“I was going to the kitchen to make some tea,” you defended. “And then I was going to go right back to sleep.”

He smiled as he looked at you, and then he nodded and stood up. “Alright. Come on.”

You raised your eyebrows as Lockwood started walking, and then he took your hand and started pulling you along.

“Oh my god,” you said with a laugh, “I can walk on my own.”

All he said was, “I know,” in that annoyingly cocky tone of his, and you continued following him as you went up the stairs. When he pulled open the door of his room, you

“Neither of us are very good at staying asleep,” Lockwood said wryly, “and I really don’t trust you to get enough in the face of tomorrow. So…”

“You think sleeping in the same bed will help,” you surmised.

He shrugged. “At the very least, I’ll be able to make sure you do fall asleep.”

“Then the same goes for you.”

“Obviously.”

You stared at him for a moment. You didn’t exactly… know what to do.

The words rushed out of his mouth. “Of course if you don’t want to—”

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “No, it’s alright. I want to.”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Alright.”

You pulled back the covers, clearing your throat as you took your side and Lockwood took his after turning the lamp off. You didn’t know why this was so awkward, sharing a bed with the boy you’d worked with for the past few months, but it was. You’d faced down countless ghosts together, but this was apparently too much.

“Your bed’s comfortable,” you said, desperate to break the silence. You stared at his wall, your back turned to him, Lockwood in the same position.

“Thanks.”

“I don’t know how you’re ever not sleeping through the night with a mattress like this.”

Lockwood chuckled. “Sight isn’t my only talent.”

You smiled. “Very true.”

“Why are you always up?” he asked. “I know my old bed isn’t the most comfortable, but it seems you’re always up.”

“It seems you’re always up.”

“Deflecting,” he said. Your mind flashed back to the first night in the library.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I’ve always been a restless person, but being an agent has just… worsened it. I had a couple of bad months working on my own and I don’t think I’ve fully recovered.”

“Ah.” You could feel his breathing in the slight shifts of the bed, and it was oddly comforting. “I hope that we haven’t made it worse.”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “If anything, you’ve made it better. Portland Row is the embodiment of warmth, and you two are fantastic.”

“Well, we aren’t going anywhere,” Lockwood assured. “...I’m not going anywhere. So if you ever need anything, please tell us.”

Your voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Always.”

Your sleepless nights varied in frequency as the months went on.

Sometimes you were so exhausted when you staggered through the doors of Portland Row that you felt as if you could sleep the night away on the couch. Other times, despite being worked to the bone from a difficult job, you would find yourself staring up at the ceiling of your room, unable to get the visions from the day out of your head.

That was the lovely thing about Touch. The way you saw it, you gave a small part of yourself over each time you used it, and once you got it back, the things you’d seen were embedded in it—in you. It was awfully difficult to separate yourself from your jobs when you threw yourself so fully into it, when you had no other choice but to do so.

Lockwood and George had become accustomed to how deep you felt things. When you needed to be alone after a job, when you needed one of them to talk nonstop to keep you distracted, when you just needed to sit with them in silence and be assured that this too would pass, no matter how slow. That was the nicest thing about being part of the group—you didn’t have to lick your wounds on your own.

When it got really bad—and sometimes it did—you and Lockwood would share his room. His presence was unparalleled in bringing you comfort, and whispered conversations in the dark made you feel some sort of way. He was practically your savior.

When he wasn’t helping you through the night, more often than not, Lockwood would be up at the same hour as you. It was concerning, though you couldn’t say anything about it. He would just throw it back at you, claiming you should be asleep as well. At least George was exempt from the criticism. Bless him.

He found you in a lot of positions. Sitting on the floor of the kitchen scrubbing furiously at the plasm stains on your boots. Sitting on the floor of their living room, one of their case files in your lap as you recounted a previous case. Sitting on the floor of the basement, measuring out salt for bombs and ensuring their flares were stocked. You liked sitting on the floor while you did things, apparently—Lockwood had figured that out after a few weeks of sleepless nights. It was strange.

And of course, the occasional bout of stress baking, ranging from cookies to brownies to pastries and more. You once even baked an entire cake in the middle of the night out of pure anger, the result of a frustrating loss to a Fittes team. Not getting the case hurt a little bit less the next morning when you all had cake to dull the pain.

You found him just as many times. Sometimes getting his own cups of tea in the kitchen, sometimes reading those gossip magazines he was fond of, sometimes doing his own restocks of your supplies. Usually, though, he was just sitting in the library stressed over one thing or another.

You noticed he always tried to hide it from you, covering it with his easy smiles and well-placed jokes. It couldn’t be easy to run an agency as a teenager, no matter how small—you wondered how many restless evenings you would have to share together for him to drop the mask.

Eventually, though, it was decided that another agent was needed. Lockwood and his Sight, you and your Touch, George as an all-arounder—he was your only source for Listening, but it had never been his strong suit. After you nearly got ghost-touched because of that blatant lack of Listening, Lockwood put his foot down and put out an ad.

Enter one Lucy Carlyle: excellent Listener, skilled in Touch, a myriad of opinions. You liked her the moment you met her, her image only sullied by her taking two biscuits. You could hardly blame her though, the way George pushed her. He loved to push.

Due to a lack of rooms but an imminent need for Talent, it was decided that Lucy would room in the attic with you. You were able to get one of the spare beds all the way up to the attic between the four of you, and when you all promptly collapsed on the ground together, it was agreed upon that Lockwood & Company would stick to ghosts. Very good for team bonding, though.

It took Lucy a bit to get used to you, especially in such close quarters, but soon enough you were joking around and talking like you’d known each other for years. You knew she was good, but witnessing her listening was awe-inspiring. You almost couldn’t believe you’d gotten her over Fittes or Atkinson and Armstrong, but you weren’t going to complain. You felt as if your motley crew could do anything.

“I can’t believe he did this,” you seethed.

Well, there were certain things your motley crew did not need to do. Especially your leader.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that,” Lucy said.

“I can’t believe he did this!” you repeated, louder and more annoyed as you threw yourself against the wall. “How stupid can one boy be?”

“He was trying to save you, y’know,” Lucy said dryly.

“I didn’t need to be saved,” you grumbled. “He did it because he’s reckless and stupid.”

“...That’s fair,” Lucy said after a moment. “He is quite reckless.”

“Don’t forget stupid.”

Her lips twitched for a moment. “Perhaps you shouldn’t speak ill of the injured.”

“That’s just the dead,” you muttered. “And we speak plenty of ill of them.”

This was all because of a job that went wrong. And you were certain it wouldn’t have gone wrong if Lockwood could hold himself back for a moment.

“Are you sure that’s him?” you murmured, disguising your words with your cup of sparkling cider.

“Positive,” Lockwood confirmed. “Arthur Torres, one of Sunrise Corporation’s many useless executives.”

“Lovely.” You finished your drink. “I distract and you steal, right?”

“Actually,” Lockwood said, and you didn’t like that at all, “you steal, I distract.”

Your brows furrowed. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“I make the plans,” he said, “I can change them.”

“Not when we spend hours going over them to ensure they’re flawless,” you said tartly.

“Relax.” He smiled at you, and somehow it managed to carve through your irritation. He slipped the keycard out of his pocket and pressed it into your hand. “I’m very good at improvising.”

“Lockw—” You didn’t have the chance to chastise him the way he deserved before he slipped off, a very convenient waiter filling the space he left before you could dart after him. You scoffed as you placed your empty glass on their tray, your eyes narrowed as you glared at Lockwood from beyond.

He paid no attention to you, not until he made the signal. He ‘accidentally’ bumped into Mr. Torres, spilling his wine all over his jacket, and before the first apology could fall from his lips, you were gone.

You muttered curses under your breath the entire way, slipping past guards and security the best you could on the way to the stairwell. You took them two at a time as you hurried to the fourth floor, and though you were completely out of breath by the time you made it, you were pleased that there were no guards. George said he would have the security cameras disabled before you got there, so you just had to trust in him.

You continued to take in and let out deep breaths as you walked up to the door, and they turned into a sigh of relief when you scanned the keycard and it opened. You heard footsteps behind you and whirled around, your hand flying on instinct for the rapier that wasn’t there, and your eyes widened yet again when you saw it was Lockwood.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you hissed.

He held up his hands in defense, as he stopped jogging, and then he brushed out the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “I came to help you.”

“You’re meant to be distracting Mr. Torres,” you said incredulously. “Lockwood, do you even care for the sanctity of plans?”

“I care about your safety,” he said, calm in the face of your anger. “That’s why I’m here.”

“And where is he? Hopefully not in reach of his various guards that could ruin us and our careers at any second.”

“I left him in the washroom,” Lockwood said. “How are you doing?”

You set your jaw, and you sighed as you gestured with your head into the now-open office. “Let’s just find this source so we can get out of here.”

Now came the not-so-legal part, that some may even call theft. Lockwood called it discreetly fixing mistakes, you called it your shoddy morals. Not that you were torn up about stealing from an executive businessman, you just didn’t particularly fancy losing your license over it.

A rich family had hired Lockwood & Co to find and return a source that was important to their family, and of course it was housed by Mr. Torres of the Sunrise Corporation. You’d no idea what it was with wealthy people and their flaunting of sources, but you’d had enough of it. They paid handsomely for the risk though, hence your shoddy morals.

This, honestly, was the easy part. You touched a few things, concentrated until your head hurt, and it led you right to it. Quite disappointing—you didn’t know why the Paladinos would keep a paperweight in the family, and more importantly how it came about to be a source, but that didn’t really matter. It sat on Torres’s desk, surrounded by Sunrise Corporation silver-glass, and just for extra measure Lockwood put it into a metal box of your own. You shoved it into your backpack, and the job was halfway done.

The other half was getting out without being spotted.

The two of you worked quickly to erase all traces of your being there, and soon enough you were hurrying through the halls together.

“That was good work.”

You ignored him.

“The Paladinos’ money will do a lot of good for us.”

You ignored him.

“Seriously. You work well on the fly.”

“We shouldn’t have had to work on the fly,” you finally said bitterly.

“Why are you so mad?” Lockwood asked with a slight laugh. God, his nerve. “It all worked out. We’ve got the source, we’ll get the payment, and we didn’t even have to deal with any Visitors. Torres is still clueless.”

“That’s not the point, Lockwood,” you hissed. You forced your expression back into neutrality as you walked out of the stairwell and back into the midst of the party, and you and Lockwood moved at a normal pace. He offered occasional smiles and nods to people in the crowd, and you both nodded at the guards at the exit when you left.

You couldn’t even relish in your victory, because once you’d gotten out of hearing distance, around the corner where no guards or partygoers could see or hear you, Lockwood stopped you.

“What is the point then?” he asked. “If none of what I said is the point, then what is the point?”

“The point is that you don’t trust me!” you exclaimed.

He immediately frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Why did you even follow me in the first place?” you asked. “It was your decision to switch it up at the last moment, and you couldn’t even follow through with that?”

Lockwood didn’t say anything, and you shook your head.

“You don’t trust me,” you repeated quietly.

He said your name then, a slightly wild look in his eyes as he turned to you. “That’s not it.”

“It is.” A muscle worked in your jaw. “Because if you thought I could do it, you would have let me do it instead of risking both of our lives. You wouldn’t have switched our roles in the first place.”

“Torres was suspicious,” he insisted. “He— he was saying things, talking about how he had to make his guards check on his office. He’s a paranoid man, and you could have been in much more danger if I hadn’t abandoned him.”

“That is bullshit!” you exclaimed. “God, it was your bloody idea in the first place! Is it suddenly not good enough? Am I not good enough?”

“That is not what this is about,” Lockwood snapped.

“Then what is it about?” you marveled. “Why did you switch roles in the first place? You’ve told me I could talk my way out of anything, but when the time comes, you shake things up for no reason. For no reason, Lockwood.”

“People know my face better than they know yours,” Lockwood said. “Torres was more willing to talk with the head of a rising agency, you were able to slip around easier because of who you are.”

“Why didn’t you think of that before we were in the thick of it all?” you asked incredulously, and you laughed. “I’ve saved your life multiple times, Lockwood, and you’ve done the same for me. You talk me up all the time to my face, saying I’m what this agency was missing, that I’m part of your family, that— that you’ll never let me go. But that’s all it is, isn’t it?” A shaky smile formed for just a moment before it broke. “Just talk.”

Lockwood said your name desperately, but you shook your head. “No. Justify it however you want, but you nearly sabotaged the entire job just because you didn’t have enough faith in me. That’s it.”

“I’m telling you, that’s not it.” He let out a ragged sigh, running a distressed hand through his hair, when he suddenly froze.

“Good evening, sir!” he called, confident as ever, like your argument hadn’t just happened. “We’re just—”

His voice broke off mid sentence, and then he yelled your name. You whirled around.

It was a guard, and he was armed. He must have spotted you when you were leaving the office, or maybe George had missed a camera and he’d seen your thievery—there were about a thousand things that could have gone wrong. For a split second, you stared down the barrel of the gun. Funny how you’d stared down what felt like hundreds of ghosts, and a bit of metal was what had you frozen.

The guard pulled the trigger.

Lockwood lunged.

You screamed.

“He’s lucky DEPRAC didn’t find the source in my bag,” you muttered. “They already interrogated me to hell and back while he was in the hospital. Luckily, it usually doesn’t look too good when an adult shoots a teenager and can hardly defend himself against it.”

“The bloke deserved to be fired,” Lucy said. “A paperweight is certainly not worth shooting someone over.”

“And it’s certainly not worth getting shot for,” you added.

“It’s kind of funny,” Lucy said offhandedly. “He’s the one that got shot for you, and yet he’s apologizing to you.”

“Because it’s his fault that he got us in that situation in the first place!” you exclaimed. You winced as your words sunk in, and you looked over at Lucy. “That was too harsh, wasn’t it?”

“...A bit,” she admitted.

You sighed dramatically and hit your head against the side of the wall. “I’m acting like a child.”

“A bit.”

“I just don’t know how he expects me to face him,” you said. “I’ve been working with him for the better part of a year, and somehow he still doesn’t trust me.”

“I… don’t think that’s it,” Lucy said.

“How could it not be it?” you said. “He wouldn’t have acted like he did if he trusted me.”

She shrugged. “Have you thought that it’s because he cares about you?”

“He cares about all of us, Luce.”

“He cares about you more,” she said plainly. “In a different way.”

Your head whipped towards her, and you stared at her for a good five seconds. “You are not saying what I think you’re saying.”

“If you think I’m saying it, it’s for good reason,” she said.

“We are colleagues,” you said slowly. “Nothing less, nothing more.”

Lucy said your name with a slight laugh. “He took a bullet for you.”

“He shuffled our assignments because he didn’t trust me,” you said.

“He shuffled your assignments because he was worried about you,” she countered. “He didn’t want you with Torres because if you were found out, Lockwood didn’t want him to remember your face. And he abandoned his post because he was worried about you, that something would go wrong and he wouldn’t be there to help.”

You stared at her before you continued your pacing. “You’re insane. You’re kicked out of the agency.”

“I’m right,” she said wryly. “And may I remind you again that he took a bloody bullet for you?��

“I’ve already given him that,” you said. “I lost my damn mind when it happened—almost tore the guard apart with my bare hands. I freaked out the entire way to the hospital with him.”

“And now you’re almost completely ignoring him,” Lucy said. “Face it: you like him. You just don’t want to admit it because it would mean having an actual conversation with him about it all rather than pacing a hole in the floor.”

“You’re wrong.” You huffed and leaned back against the wall. “You’re wrong.”

Lucy sighed and she offered a faint smile as she stood up. “You take some time to realize all this. I’m stealing George for an Arif’s run.”

“Leaving us alone,” you said flatly, staring ahead as she walked out. “You’re not clever, Lucy Carlyle!”

“Thank you!” she called with a laugh, and you hit your head against the wall once more when she closed the door behind her.

Sometimes you really hated your friends.

It wasn’t like you were avoiding Lockwood. That would be cruel.

Stupid as he was, he got shot, and he got shot for you. Avoiding him would be ridiculous.

You were just… strategically not talking to him.

And that was arguably worse, yes, letting him see you but not deigning to say a single thing to him that wasn’t business related.

It was even worse than worse because you’d inadvertently proven Lucy right. If this were any normal annoyance between friends, like the squabbles you and George were prone to or the bouts that your boys got into over patience and its virtues, it wouldn’t be this strong.

You’d held grudges against Lockwood before. When he forgot to soak your boots overnight so you had to go into an important job with plasm stains, when he ate the strawberry sprinkled donut just to spite you, when you and George were still in rocky territory and he made you marathon the archives with him for nine hours straight.

All of those, annoying as they were, were forgiven rather quickly. And yes, maybe this grudge was especially strong because of the severity of his injury, but…

You could admit it. Normal people didn’t hold grudges over their best friend throwing themselves in front of them to prevent them from getting shot. Normal people were thankful. Normal people could talk about their feelings when they realized it was the reason for their strife.

You, apparently, were not normal. And neither was anyone in this bloody agency, because nobody deigned to make it any easier for you.

Perhaps it was a bit stupid on your part, but you walked down to the kitchen anyway. You needed some tea to clear your mind. Instead, you were met with a half-shirtless Lockwood.

“Ah,” he said your name, looking up from his spot against the counter, “nice of you to finally grace me with your presence.”

“What are you doing?” you asked. It was almost embarrassing—you were meant to be holding a grudge and ignoring your feelings, and instead you were staring at him like a girl in primary school. Remarkable how quickly you forgot your objectives.

“The doctor said I had to redress my wound every day for the first week,” he said. “Lucy and George just went out, so I figured I would do it now.”

Your brows furrowed. “How do you feel?”

“Better now that you’re here,” he said. Lucy’s words pounded in your ears. “I don’t think you avoiding me is good for my health.”

You bit your lip and remained silent. Rocky territory, this was.

“It’s alright if you just want to stand there.” Lockwood grimaced a bit as he pressed the alcohol-soaked pad to his wound. “Moral support is very helpful.”

Remarkable how quickly the dam broke. You sighed and closed the distance, holding out your hand when you stopped a few meters in front of him. “Give it to me.”

Lockwood’s eyebrows rose.

“Give it to me,” you repeated. “I’ve dealt with many of my own wounds over the years. It’ll be a lot faster if I do it for you.”

His lips quirked into a slight smile as he handed the cloth over. “This is better than moral support.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You couldn’t help the small smile of your own as you started to dab at the surrounding blood on his chest, innately aware of your proximity but trying your best to ignore it. “This doesn’t look too bad, honestly.”

“I was shot,” he said dryly. “I think I deserve a few style points for that.”

“You’ve already earned them all, Lockwood.”

“That makes sense.” You felt his eyes on you as you continued to work, pointedly ignoring his gaze. “You know, they didn’t take the bullet out. Said it would be worse to take it out, and it’s not causing any problems inside. So I’ve got a bullet in me now.”

Your brows furrowed. “Interesting.”

“Indeed. I’ll be going off in airports for the rest of my life.”

Your fingers hovered over his chest for a moment, and you pulled away with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

It was his turn to frown. “What for?”

“For—” you let out another sigh, rougher this time. “For this.”

“It wasn’t your fault I got shot,” he said. “I quite clearly remember pushing you out of the way.”

“I know,” you said. “I— I am quite sorry that you got shot, though.”

“Obviously,” he said coyly, and you let out a breathy laugh.

“I’m sorry for this grudge. It’s probably the stupidest out of all the ones I’ve held against you so far.”

“George keeps a running list,” Lockwood said. “I’m sure we can figure that out.”

“I’m serious.” Your hand lingered on Lockwood’s chest for a moment, his body warmth almost shocking, before you set the cloth down on the counter. You started to put a fresh bandage on, but you finally mustered the strength to look at him. “I was so upset at the thought that you didn’t trust me because your opinion means a lot to me, Lockwood. The way you think of me means a lot to me.” You cleared your throat, averting your eyes for a moment. “You mean a lot to me.”

Lockwood gently tipped your chin back towards him, your eyes meeting his. He really was beautiful—eyes that were softer than ever, his tousled hair, the slope of his jaw. Slightly chapped lips, the bags under his eyes that seemed to be permanent, the weight of the world on his shoulders that seemed to diminish ever so slightly when you were around.

Your Lockwood.

“You mean a lot to me as well,” he said. “Why do you think I reassigned us last minute? Why do you think I took a bullet for you?”

“Because you’re a reckless idiot?”

“Because I panic around you,” he said, “in addition to being a reckless idiot. Whenever we’re on a job, half of my mind is focused on ghosts, and the other half is making sure nothing happens to you. You drive me the best kind of insane.”

You couldn’t help but stare at him. You wanted to kiss him more than anything, to root your hands in that tousled hair and make it an even bigger mess. You wanted to make him realize he didn’t have to worry about you, because you weren’t going anywhere without him.

The words stuck in your throat. You finished applying his bandage, and you took a step away.

“Thank you,” you said.

He didn’t look angry or annoyed or irritated—he understood. He understood you.

“Always.”

And it was as simple as that.

It wasn’t really a surprise you couldn’t sleep that night. You hadn’t exactly talked to Lockwood since your show of emotion in the kitchen, embarrassing as it was. You made Lucy check downstairs before you went down for supper, and that was just so you could make the quickest sandwich of your life and immediately hurry back upstairs.

Pathetic, really. You mustered the strength to tell the boy you liked him, he returned it, you ran off and locked yourself in the attic.

And it wasn’t because it was too much. You just… you didn’t know. You might’ve driven Lockwood insane, but he turned you into a complete idiot. It was ridiculous. And you were not ridiculous.

So when night rolled around, when Lucy and George were sound asleep and the ghost lamps flickered on every three minutes and you had only the owls outside your window for company, you knew what you were going to do.

You threw on your sweatshirt, carefully padded across the floor and out the door so as to not wake Lucy, and you went down the stairs.

Surprisingly, you’d never felt calmer.

The light was on in the library. The door was slightly pushed open, the nondescript act that had turned into a beacon for the two of you.

You knocked on the wall before you pushed the door open some more, not waiting for an answer as you leaned against the doorframe.

Lockwood sat in his armchair, a magazine half open but neglected on his lap. His eyes shined the moment you stepped inside.

“Got room for one more?” you asked softly.

Lockwood’s shoulders relaxed, his throat bobbing for a moment before that damn smile pulled at his lips.

“Always.”

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #lockwood x you #lockwood & co x reader #lockwood & co #x reader #reader insert #sadie writes

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 4 months ago

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@steddieangstyaugust Day 14 - Wordy Wednesday: Lake

i’m challenging myself to keep all these at either 127 or 1,270 words each, see day one for more of an explanation!

The last time Eddie visits his Uncle Wayne, he meets a mermaid.

He’d gone under the water to fish up a bright coral pink rock he’d spotted from above, and happened to glance up, looking out into the lake from under the surface, only to meet a pale face dotted with what looked like freckles.

Inhaling the clear lake water, sputtering as he stands, the pale face joins him above the surface.

“He–” another cough, “Hello…?” he greets, questioningly.

The face only studies him further, looking him over from head to toe.

Eddie squats back down into the water, it’s much colder above the surface now that he’s used to the water’s chilly temperature.

A bright shimmering blue tail skims past his knee.

“Wow! You’re a mermaid!” he says, astonished, finally noticing the rest of the boy’s freckled torso just under the crystal clear water. “I’m Eddie, what’s your name?”

“Eee–” the boy frowns, “Eeadding?”

Eddie points to his chest, “Ed-dee.”

“Edddeee.”

“Yeah! I’m Eddie,” he points to himself again, “You are…?” points to the mermaid (merboy?)

“Ssst–” his face scrunches, he squeals some sort of noise under his breath, “SteeEEE–” He cuts himself off again, shrinking from the pained look on Eddie’s face.

“Sorry, that was just loud.. Is it Steeee…” Eddie wracks his brain, “Fin?” He completes the only name that comes to mind, wincing at ‘fin’ being the only syllable he possibly could’ve imagined while in the presence of a literal finned person.

Maybe Stefin giggles, lifting his tailfins out of the water.

Eddie grins back, “Stee-fin?”

Even More Possibly Stefin nods, a sharp-toothed grin stretching from ear to ear.

“Well Stefin, wanna help me look for rocks?”

Together, they scour the shallows of the water behind Wayne’s cabin for hours

They fill the whole grocery bag Eddie’d been toting around with him by time Wayne calls for him at sundown.

“I’m leaving for home tomorrow,” he tells Stefin, not knowing that would be the last time he’d ever see his friend, telling the beautiful creature “I’ll see you next year though! We come back at least once every summer, promise.”

The merboy had smiled so brilliantly at him, the freckles Eddie had just then realized were tiny blue scales shining in the evening sun. He didn’t want to leave.

But he had to. Eddie left.

Elizabeth got sick.

Al got arrested.

And in the time between the state of Tennessee gaining custody of him and being placed with Uncle Wayne permanently, Wayne sold his little homestead, settling in a two bedroom trailer in the heart of Indiana.

He understands it all now, of course, Wayne making the decision to move where he knew he’d have consistent work year-round was a necessity, but that first week, an already confused Eddie had asked after only a couple days in the trailer when they’d be going home to the lake.

“I don’t live there anymore Teddy. Live here now, in Indiana.”

“But what about the cabin?”

“Sold it, kiddo. Bought this place instead.”

Eddie’s eyes welled up for what felt like the zillionth time in a month. “But what about the stove? What about the bonfires? What about all the rocks I haven’t found?” What about Stefin? He thought to himself.

“Now son–kiddo, s’alright! We can always plan a trip to the UP if y’wanna.”

“Back to the cabin?” Eddie had asked, hopeful.

Wayne shook his head, “Probably camp at McLain instead.”

“That’s on Lake Soupier?”

Wayne snorts, “Yah bud, s’on Superior.”

Eddie took a moment to consider it, then nodded resolutely. “Okay Uncle Wayne.”

They never went back up to Michigan, let alone all the way up to the UP.

The first summer in Indiana was the only time Eddie asked.

“Sorry kiddo, can’t swing it this year. Maybe next time.” Wayne had said, and Eddie watched.

The whole rest of summer, into the fall, especially in the winter, the red-stamped envelopes would stack, then disappear whenever they would go into what Wayne liked to call ‘broke mode’.

Clearance aisle canned goods, store-brand everything, sandwiches packed into brown paper bags with little else.

Eddie grew up, failed his senior year once, twice, managing things the third, and leaving Hawkins for Chicago, hoping to make it big somewhere, somehow.

He manages to, but not in the way he originally thought, falling into club ownership after the man he’d been working for passed, leaving his business to Eddie.

Wayne gets sick when Eddie’s only 28; he drives down to Hawkins and stays with him about a month before he’s gone.

Eddie goes back to Chicago one Uncle short, goes back to work.

A week after Wayne is cremated, a notification pops up in his inbox. An alert he doesn’t remember setting.

Eddie grins, “You sneaky bastard.”

Wayne’s cabin and surrounding acreage have come up for sale.

It’s not even a thought, there’s no decision to be made. Eddie offers over asking and gets the keys handed to him on his 29th birthday.

He’s still a part owner of his club, gets a check every month that pays the mortgage, but his new day to day consists of fixing the cabin, wandering in the woods, and strolling along the shallows of Lake Superior, looking for rocks.

One day, while walking north along the shore, he stumbles across a hidden little alcove.

The rock face juts in from the shoreline, behind a trickling waterfall. It’s not huge by any means, but it looks like someone’s already came by and carved the sand here away, making a knee-high pool that connects the rocky face of the shore with the lake.

He skirts around the little pool, walking along a narrow strip of sand to the sparkling waterfall.

A shocked scream is yanked from his throat as soon as he peers into the alcove properly though, because there, doing a very astute impression of a dead fuckin’ body, is a merman, leant casually back against the wall of the cave Eddie’d just approached from, snoozing away.

The creature whips its head around at Eddie’s yell, teeth bared and a hissing screech slithering out from between his lips.

“Holy Shit! You’re a—”

The merman stops hissing, “Eddie?”

Eddie blinks at him. “Jesus H. Christ.. Stefin?” The blue tail, the shimmering freckle-like scales, the still horribly beautiful face. “You’re real.”

“You’re back— real?” Stefin asks, incredulous, “You didn’t think I was real?”

“I was a kid with an astounding sense of imagination, sue me.”

Stefin rolls his eyes, “Figures why you never came back to see me.”

Eddie blinks at him again, “What? No! No, I couldn’t! My mom— my dad– Wayne— It’s a long story, okay?”

Stefin harrumphs, sitting back against the stone wall.

“I still can’t believe this, I always thought I’d imagined you.”

“Well you didn’t.”

“Yeahh, I can see that now, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Wha— nevermind, So, how’ve you been?”

Stefin’s head lolls around, he had to’ve just rolled his eyes. He stands up, “Why do you care? You’ll probably just leave again.”

“No, I bought the house my uncl—” Hang on, what?

Stefin shoves past Eddie to hop down onto the sand, avoiding landing on his feet in the water.

“You’re walking.”

“Amazing observation skills.”

“You’re naked.” And super hot, holy shit. Eddie averts his eyes politely.

“Again, very astute.” He grabs a bundle of cloth, pulling on a pair of shorts.

“How— Can I take you to dinner?”

“Why.” He pulls a shirt on over his head.

“To explain properly. And also because I missed you.”

Stefin turns, looks him over. His gaze softens minutely. “Sure. I’d like that.”

MY FIRST MER!FIC!! HALLELUJAH!!

also, this kinda got away from me, so it's really only light angst 😅

see the collection on ao3!

#steddieangstyaugust #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steveddie #eddeve #steve harrington x eddie munson #wordy wednesday #noelle writes

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of-a-chaotic-mind · 3 months ago

Text

I Can't Say Part 1

Summary: Eddie thinks Reader is cheating on him and breaks up with her. He doesn't believe her when she says she has a good reason for acting how she has because she says she can't tell him.

TW/CW: Eddie Diaz x Reader, Insinuation of Suicidal Ideation, Break Up, Cheating Accusation

Requested?: No

Word Count: 3,995

A/N: Mmmmm I wanted to write break up imagine and had a short simple idea but that turned into what is now sitting at 7,823 words total. Here's the first half while I work on finishing the rest. At this point, I think I should just starting Character x OCs because I put way too much thought and detail into my "Reader" lmao. Ms. Ma'am has an entire background in my head... I also feel like I should start writing a novel or screen scripts because I love writing long works like this. Anyways, hope you enjoy the read! Love to all! Requests are Open!

[ A/N: the amount of space this man takes up in my brain rent free is getting to be ridiculous... ]

--- Your POV ---

"I think we should break up," Eddie says, refusing to even look at me. Stun locked and silent, I can't believe the words that just came out of my boyfriend's mouth...

"W-what? Why?" I ask, feeling very confused.

He gets up from his seat on the couch beside me and starts pacing as he runs his fingers through his hair, "(Y/N), do you think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been distancing yourself? Or how about all the times you've been much later than you should for just making a quick stop on your way to my place?"

"Eddie I-" he puts his hand up to interrupt me.

"There's also the phone calls and text messages all throughout the day that you always take in private," he pauses, seemingly hesitant to continue. "The other night when you were an hour late, I looked your number up on Find My. You were out in the hills, (Y/N). No where near the route from your place to mine."

It dawns on me, "You think I'm cheating on you?"

He stops pacing with his back turned to me. I watch him rub his face before answering, "Yes, (Y/N). What else am I supposed to think?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe that I have a good reason for all that stuff?" I answer, quite hurt that he’d think so little of me.

He whips around to look at me and I can see the tears in his eyes, "Oh yeah? Like what?"

I look down at my lap, fidgeting with the friendship bracelet Chris had given me not too long ago. It's quiet for a few moments as I weigh my options before whispering, "I can't tell you..."

"What happened to always communicating, huh? What happened to never lying to each other, (Y/N)?" he asks, his voice getting a small bit louder as he throws his hands in the air. Unfortunately, the motion makes me flinch, a reaction I never thought I'd have to Eddie.

I bury my face in my hands for a few seconds, taking deep breaths, "I promise, Eddie. If I could tell you I would."

His voice is quiet now and he sounds hurt, "What happened to the promises that we made?"

I clench my jaw, attempting to keep myself from saying something I shouldn't. I hear him cross the living room and leave, slamming the door shut behind him. I stay seated on the couch for what feels like forever, attempting to wrap my head around what just happened. I should've just told him what's going on but I promised Talia I wouldn't breathe a word of it to anyone.

Talia is a good friend of mine, more like a little sister, that I worked with at the 127 before being transferred to the 118. Several weeks ago, she called me, in the middle of the night, sobbing and gasping for breath. She begged me to come over. When I got there, I found her curled up in a ball on her living room floor, still sobbing profusely, and she only cried more when she saw me. Hours later, when I finally got her to calm down enough to speak, she explained that she was scared to be alone because she knew her head was in a dark place but I had to promise her that I wouldn't tell a single soul. So, I did. I stayed the night with her and made sure she knew to call me if she needed to before leaving for work the next morning.

I'll admit, I have been distancing myself from everyone. I've been scared that I'd let slip what was going on with Talia. I'd made several stops to check on her on my way to Eddie's or home from work. I had contemplated just moving in with her at one point. Talia has been calling and texting throughout the day lately. Sometimes, because she needs support and sometimes just to let me know she was okay. She's gotten a lot better since she called me that first night, so much so that she agreed to see a therapist and has her first appointment in a couple of days. My train of thought derails off into other subjects like wondering why Eddie didn't trust me, wondering what it would be like moving forward, and plenty more.

--- Third Person POV ---

Knowing he needed to talk to someone, Eddie found himself pulling into Buck and Tommy's driveway. He sat there for a good bit before forcing himself out of the truck and up their front steps. Minutes after he rings the doorbell, Tommy answers looking very tired and quite disheveled. He immediately knows something is wrong due to the tears still running down Eddie's face and motions him inside.

As Eddie steps across the threshold, Buck rounds the corner into the living room rubbing his eyes and yawning, "Babe? Who is it?"

Tommy makes his way over to the coffee pot and starts a brew as he answers, "It's Eddie, Honey."

Buck snaps his head toward his best friend, "What happened? Is Chris okay?" All Eddie can do is nod as Buck places a hand on his shoulder and directs him to the couch, "What's going on, man? Is it (Y/N)? Is she okay?"

As the two sit down, Eddie drops his head into his hands and whispers, "I don't know." Buck and Tommy share a look over the back of the couch. Tommy holds his finger up, telling him to give Eddie a minute. The house falls quiet aside from the trickling and gurgling of the coffee pot. Buck does his best to wait patiently, glancing every few seconds at Tommy who still leans against the counter but now with hawk eyes on Eddie. Buck knows (Y/N) is like a little sister to Tommy and silently begs him not to get angry.

Soon, the coffee is done and Tommy pours three mugs before joining Buck and Eddie on the couch, handing a mug to Buck, placing Eddie's on the coffee table in front of him, and taking a sip from his own. Buck carefully takes a sip as Tommy clears his throat, "Alright, say something."

Eddie wipes the tears from his lashes, picks up the mug, and takes a deep breath, "I broke up with her," he stares down at the coffee warming his hands for a moment before taking a sip.

Buck's jaw nearly hits his lap and Tommy grits his teeth. Never in a million years did they see this coming. Buck was pretty sure he'd soon be helping Eddie find a ring that (Y/N) would like and planning a bachelor party. Tommy was fully prepared to walk her down the aisle one day like she'd asked him to and thought for sure Eddie would be the one standing at the end of it waiting to put a wedding band on her finger. Hell, the entire 118, their friends and family, as well as some of the guys down at the 127 had bets going on when the lovebirds would get engaged.

Catching sight of the pleading look in Buck's eyes, Tommy shoves his anger aside, although his tone still comes out a little harsh, "Why?"

Eddie clenches his jaw and attempts to keep his tears at bay, "She's been distancing herself from me and taking weird calls and texts in private. She's even been lying to me about where she's going. I caught her in the hills on Find My a few nights ago when she was supposed to be on her way to my house with a quick stop at the gas station."

"You can't seriously think she's cheating on you?" Buck insists.

"What else could it be?" Eddie challenges, now looking his friend in the face.

"I- I don't know but (Y/N) would never-" Buck is cut off as Eddie sets his coffee back down & stands up to pace.

Tommy is deep in thought when Buck looks to him for assistance. He remembers (Y/N) having a friend who lives out that way. He can't for the life of him remember who but he knows he accompanied her to a birthday party there not long before she transferred. Buck leans forward and nudges his leg, shaking him out of his thoughts, and points at Eddie who looks like he's going to pave a flat spot into their carpet.

"What did she say?" Tommy asks, desperately needing to figure out why his friend would be acting so weird and clinging to all hope that it's not what Eddie thinks.

"She said she had a good reason for that stuff but couldn't tell me what it was," Eddie spits out. Buck and Tommy both are shocked at how quickly his tone has become angry. Buck gets up, aiming to convince Eddie to sit back down but is interrupted when Eddie flings his arms out, "We promised each other we would always communicate and never lie to each other. Hell, we pinky promised and you guys know how seriously she takes those! Why?!" he pauses, "Why wouldn't she just tell me what's going on instead of making up some excuse that she can't even say?"

Tommy has had enough, "Sit back down and lower your voice." He knows Eddie is just angry because he's hurt but he won't let him be angry at her.

Eddie is taken aback, "W-what?"

"You heard me," Tommy stares him down, daring him to refuse. Buck thinks he's going to have to snap them out of it because of how long they stay staring at each other but finally Eddie gives and sits back down, dropping his head into his hands once again. "Where exactly was she?" Tommy asks, searching for any clues to what's really happening. Buck is also racking his brain but a small part of him fears that Eddie may be right.

Without looking up, Eddie pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds it toward Tommy, "I took a screenshot." Tommy's heart hurts when he opens the phone and sees the wallpaper of Eddie, (Y/N), & Chris all smiling brightly. He types in the pin number, Christopher's birthday, and navigates to the photos app. The most recent photo is, as expected, a screenshot of the Find My map. He zooms in as far as he can before pulling his own phone out and bringing up Google Maps. He types in the street name of the location pictured in the screenshot and hits search. Using street view, he attempts to jog his memory but has no such luck. Feeling defeated, he hands Eddie's phone back to him. Noticing Buck hoping for an answer, Tommy shakes his head.

Abruptly, Eddie stands, "I'm going home. Thanks for the coffee."

Buck stands with him, "A-are you sure? You can stay the night if you need to." Eddie shakes his head and leaves.

Buck looks to Tommy, hopefully, as the door shuts behind their friend, "Please tell me she's not-"

Tommy takes a deep breath, "I don't know, Evan. That's not like her at all but I also don't know exactly why she'd be way out there."

Buck's features drop into sadness as he looks back toward the door, "What do we do?"

Tommy pulls him into a hug and rubs his back, "I don't know... I'll try to talk to her in a couple days if they don't fix it themselves. Maybe she'll tell me what's going on." Buck nods into his chest before Tommy gently tugs him back to the bedroom.

--- Your POV ---

The next morning, I wake up curled into a ball on the couch. With a full bladder and a crick my neck, I begrudgingly shuffle to the bathroom. As I pass the mirror, the sight of mascara smudged across my cheeks shatters all hope that I had about last night just being a terrible dream. Fresh tears roll across the mascara as I empty my bladder.

Exiting the bathroom, I head to my bedroom to collect some blankets and pillows before returning to the couch and creating a little nest. I plop down and open my phone to discover several missed calls and texts from Tommy and Buck. I put it on "Do Not Disturb" and then tap on the Doordash app. I order a bunch of junk food and once the order is confirmed I start trying to find something to watch on tv, fidgeting with the friendship bracelet out of habit.

I could call Tommy and Buck to talk about what happened but I'm sure the reason they've called so much is because they already know. I honestly just want to lock myself up inside my house until I finally wake up from this nightmare. Maybe I'll talk to them in a few days but right now I have two days off work and I intend to spend them drowning my sorrows in ice cream.

After God knows how many pints of Doordashed ice cream, hours of comfort movies, and plenty of napping, I wake up on the couch once again as my alarm blares from the coffee table. I silence the noise and roll off the couch, landing on my stomach with a thump. I take a few deep breaths, willing the tears to dry up, before dragging myself off the floor and stumbling to the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth.

With the water running down my now clean body, I am once again reminded of reality. I have to go to work today where I will undoubtedly see Eddie. I have to pretend I'm okay or even though I feel like crumbling to pieces so my friends don’t worry about me too much. Eddie is my everything. When I asked Tommy to walk me down the aisle after my dad passed a few months ago, I fully envisioned Eddie standing at the other end waiting to say, "I do." I don't how I've survived the past couple days without him when I usually can't even go 10 minutes without talking to him. Hearing the doorbell, I force myself to turn the water off, get dressed, and slap a smile on my face. Talia asked me to take her to therapy this morning so I know that's who is at the door.

A few moments later, I open the front door, "Sorry, I was in the shower. Give me a couple minutes and we can go." Talia nods so I grab my phone, keys, and go bag from the kitchen where I had left them the night before. As we get in my car, I shake my head, "I don't know why you wouldn't just let me pick you up. It would've saved you the uber here."

She shrugs, "You've driven to my house so many times in the past few weeks so I figured I owe you one."

As I crank the car, I give her a pointed look, "Talia, you don't owe me anything."

She sighs, "You keep saying that but I don't believe it." I simply shake my head, knowing exactly where she's coming from and head toward her therapy office. A short drive later, I stop on the curb to let her out.

She stares out the window for a few moments so I gently rub her shoulder, "You've got this, Tal. I know you do."

She takes a deep breath and opens the car door to get out. Before shutting it, she ducks her head back into the car, "Thank you again, (Y/N)."

I smile at her, "Anytime, kid. Now go before you're late." She mirrors my smile before shutting the door. I watch to make sure she makes it inside before pulling away from the curb and heading to work. I tell myself that I'll try to talk to Eddie today and remind myself that things are going to be okay.

When I arrive at the station, Buck rushes over to me, "(Y/N)! A-are you okay? Eddie told us what happened."

I do my best to offer him a reassuring smile and pat his shoulder, "I'll be okay eventually, Buck." He tilts his head and I can tell he's trying to decipher my facial expressions or maybe read my mind.

As I head toward the locker rooms to get changed into my uniform, he is right behind me, "I don't believe you did it. I know there's something else going on." Unsure how to respond I stay quiet but when we reach the locker room door, he gently grabs my wrist, "(Y/N)... whatever you need, I'm here, Tommy too." I nod and again attempt to smile but just on the other side of the door, I can hear Eddie talking. Buck hears it too but only nods and heads upstairs.

--- Third Person POV ---

When (Y/N) slowly opens the door, Eddie is on the phone, "Tia, I promise we will visit soon."

On the other end of the line, Tia Pepa is doubtful, "How soon is soon, Edmundo?"

"I-I don't know," he admits as he notices that (Y/N) has entered the room.

"Dios mio, sobrino," she sighs, "Well, will you please bring (Y/N) with you? I've heard so much about her from Christopher and would love to meet her," Tia asks, clueless to recent events. Eddie hasn't even figured out how to tell Chris yet, let alone the rest of his family who have been dying to meet the woman he just broke up with.

"I'll have to ask her," he watches her make her way to her locker quietly, never making eye contact.

"You better. Tell her I'll make some Tres Leches just for her," Chris has told Tia many times that (Y/N) absolutely needs to try real Tres Leches since she's obsessed with the kind you can buy at the grocery store.

"Okay, I will," Eddie knows he's lying to her but he can't stomach the thought of having that conversation right now, nor does he have the time.

"Te quiero mucho, Edmundo. Cuídate," Tia says, knowing he probably needs to go soon.

"Te quiero mucho, tu tambien," as he hangs up, (Y/N) is silently staring into her locker as she changes into her uniform. Eddie desperately wants to run over to her, wraps his arms around her, and never let go. However, the ache in his heart holds him back. So instead, he stands and makes his way to the door.

As soon as he opens it, she finally speaks, "Eddie..." He pauses briefly but without looking back, exits the room, and lets the door shut behind him.

Over the next few days, (Y/N) does her damndest to get Eddie to talk to her. Every time, without fail, he ignores her. She doesn't notice him watching her from across the room or keeping an eye on her in the truck. He pretends he doesn't notice her staring at him with eyes full of sorrow every chance she gets. Buck does everything he can think of to make them talk but still no luck. Even Bobby, Hen, and Chimney have their own chats with both of them and come up fruitless. No one can get her to explain her actions and Eddie won’t even talk about it.

About four days pass before Tommy has a chance to sit down with (Y/N) to talk. He stops by early for lunch at the 118 and finds her taking out her frustrations on an innocent punching bag. He catches the bag after it takes a particularly gnarly hit from her, "We need to talk."

She looks down at her feet and drops her fighting stance. The two make their way over to a bench and sit in silence for a few moments. They both notice Eddie helping stock the ambulance across the bay. She takes a deep breath, fidgeting with her bracelet, "At this point, I'd settle for him yelling, screaming, and throwing every curse word in the book at me. At least then he'd be speaking to me."

He pats her knee gently, "I know." She says nothing else so he declares, "I also know you wouldn't cheat on him so what's really going on?"

She looks up at him with tears threatening to spill and regret heavy in her eyes, "I-I can't talk about it."

It stings but he accepts it, "But it is a good reason?"

She nods and looks back toward Eddie, "Yeah... I just wish he would believe that."

He sighs, "I do too." He thinks for few moments before asking, "Do you remember that birthday party we went to right before you transferred here?"

She knits her brows together, "Mmmm no, no birthday party. There was mine and Talia's going away party though."

Tommy mentally face palms, why didn't he think of Talia? On a hunch, "Oh yeah, Talia. How's she doing these days?" he asks as nonchalantly as he can.

She hesitates, doing her best to control her features so that Tommy doesn't catch on, "She's alright. Still hanging in there."

He puts two and two together despite her efforts to prevent him from doing so but before either of them can say another word, Bobby is calling everyone up for lunch. The two make their way towards the stairs and as luck would have it, whether good or bad (Y/N) isn't sure, they arrive at the bottom of the stairs at the same time as Eddie and Chimney. A sort of tense standoff ensues, (Y/N) isn't sure if she should go and Eddie is fighting with his instinct to let her go first like he always does.

Finally, Chimney gets tired of it, "Alright, love birds. Let's get up there and get a few bites in before the bell goes off." He steps between Eddie and (Y/N), who make eye contact when he does, and runs up the steps. Tommy follows his lead, stepping around (Y/N) to meet Buck at the top, who he promptly drags away to explain his latest epiphany. Eddie finally snaps out of it and motions for her to go. She drops her gaze to the steps and takes them up.

Later that day, when everyone is getting ready to go home, Eddie and (Y/N) cross paths in the locker room again. The tension is thick and the silence is loud as they change into their street clothes. Both of them are internally screaming at themselves to say something and finally (Y/N) does, once again right as he's about to leave, door already open, "Eddie, please." His eyes are locked on the floor and his hand grips the strap of his go bag a little too tight. She takes a step toward him and shockingly he doesn't move.

"Please, just look at me, breathe in my direction, hell scream at me until your voice gives out. Just give me something to show that you acknowledge my existence," she begs. The only movement he makes is a spasm in his shoulder muscle.

As he finally shoves himself toward the door, she desperately tries again, "Baby, I miss you. This is killing me because god damn it, I love you."

He pauses, "You don't get to call me that anymore," before exiting the room.

From upstairs, Bobby, Buck, and Tommy watch Eddie leave as (Y/N) drops to sit on a bench. They all heard what was said. Buck looks between Bobby and Tommy before stating, “I swear I am this close to borrowing Athena’s hand cuffs, attaching them together, and locking them in a closet.” Tommy and Bobby both hum in agreement as they watch (Y/N) grab her go bag and exit the building. That evening, she does nothing but crash on the couch when she gets home. Having taken a shower at the station and knowing her alarm is already set for tomorrow, she curls up in a ball and drifts into a dreamless sleep.

Part 2

More 911

Main Masterlist

#911 #911 show #911 imagine #911 imagines #eddie diaz #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz imagines #eddie diaz x reader #y/n #eddie diaz x y/n #suicidal ideation #break up #cheating #cheating accusation

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whyse7vn · 1 year ago

Text

BOOK CLUB -

[ ot7 x reader ]

MILLIONAIRE CLUB + tae

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

tae: my girl tell me to shut up and i do

hobi: do you have schizophrenia

jk: ong

my girl tell me to shut up i kill myself

yoongi: it’s 6 in the morning

tae: so…

i’ve been seeing someone…

jimin: as in dating??

namjoon: therapy?

hobi: hallucinations?????

y/n: gm 😚

jk: omg my girl online what do i do >.<

jin: send nudes

jk: u first

jin: ?

jk: ??

jin: send it to HER

jk: ohhhhh

yoongi: ur girl?

namjoon: our book is out btw

tae: we wrote a book?

jk: did my story about the aggressive zebra in my room make it in

jimin: what

tae: i don’t remember writing a book

namjoon: no

jk: wtf :/

hobi: he needs to leave those drugs ALONE i’m telling you

jin: awoman

tae: did you write it without me??

y/n: if exo and superjunior are at our doors with ak47’s and bombs in the next 48 hours don’t act surprised

jimin: i could take them all tbh 🥱

jk: in bed?

jimin: stop talking to me

tae: do i still get paid for the book?

namjoon: ur overreacting

jimin: ????

DID YOU NOT SEE WHAT THAT NASTY MANCHILD SAID??????

namjoon: not you

y/n: I AM NOT

they’re gonna come get us i’m not joking

hobi: what if they bring all of nct with them

yk for back up

y/n: the end of bts for realzies

yoongi: dramatic

jk: let’s bomb the sm building

tae: is it like a colouring book?

namjoon: tae stop talking

tae: ur not my girl i don’t answer to you

hobi: where do we get a bomb?

jimin: bet namjoon knows

namjoon: ??

why would i know

jin: but i like shinee

y/n: REAL

we have to think about this

yoongi: still 6 in the morning btw

jimin: okay big ben like???

jin: yoongi can you not be a hater rn

yoongi: get a job

jin: i just wrote a book actually

namjoon: technically

jin: shut the FUCK up

tae: SO YOU DID DO IT WITHOUT ME

hobi: what if we bombed it while shinee wasn’t there

jk: what about nct??

i think they’re cool

jimin: idc what you think tbh

y/n: i agree

jimin: great minds think alike

y/n: make sure shinee and nct are out

ALL of nct

jimin: nvm

jin: isn’t there like 400 of them

lowkey impossible

namjoon: 400 is a major exaggeration

there like 20 of them??

something like that

y/n: gotta make sure marks safe >.<

yoongi: ?

jk: what

tae: is the book only in korean?

jin: someone put a muzzle on him omg

hobi: isn’t he into that?

jin: ur right the only option is to kill myself

jimin: this bomb plan is getting long i’m out

hobi: yikes

same

y/n: hobi :C

hobi: sorry :c

jk: i’m also out i have a new mission

jimin: to shower??

sorry couldn’t help myself

i’m actually not sorry

i could help myself

i like to lie sometimes

jin: kim seokjin is also out

y/n: fine me it’s gonna be me yoongi and joon to save us all then

namjoon: i never said i was in?

y/n: you never said you were out?

namjoon: out

yoongi: i’m not involved

y/n: FINE

you all SUCK

poor lonely y/n will save the day then

assholes

we have to get them first

like are you guys suicidal??

hobi: a bit

y/n: i’m just gonna save myself then

hobi: saving you saving me

i really love nct

y/n: hope they get you first

hobi: i’ll literally become an nct member

i’ll be in wayV

jk: ur not chinese

unless…

jin: wayV isnt nct that’s two different groups??

namjoon: isn’t the group just called nct 127?

jin: like they are all under 127?

yoongi: so what’s nct dream then?

jimin: isn’t there an nct u??

jk: me?

jin: so the people that sung the perfume song are 127 not wayv???

y/n: no dojaejung are a separate unit

but they are also in nct 127

namjoon: what

yoongi: superm is also 127?

jimin: i’m having a stroke

this is so jin core

jin: excuse me??

jimin: ??

hobi: fake fans

you would never understand this nct life i live

namjoon: ur right

yoongi: what is going on

jk: have fun with nct i’ll miss you

jin: i’m back on the plan of bombing sm cuz wtf was that

unnecessary as HELL

down with sm

and all their fucking units

tae: can i get my money from the book now or…

yoongi: why are you still talking about the book

jimin: the broke era is really getting bad

y/n: begging for money is insane

tae: i’m NOT begging

y/n: so what are you doing?

tae: humbly asking for my cut?

i’m a businessman

i’m a millionaire for a reason

namjoon: act like it

tae: um?

rude but i’ll let it slide

pay up

now

someone

anyone

preferably now would be nice

JIMIN DID YOU JUST REQUEST 4K FROM ME WHAT THE HELL??

jimin: don’t have it millionaire?

tae: ofc i do!!!!!

but why in my right mind would i give YOU out off all people any of MY money

y/n: if you are in ur right mind i must be fucking insane oh my god

jin: about to cut some watermelon

hobi: yummy

jk: what if nct are all robots made by russia to spy on all of us

tae: what

jk: i’ll kill mark first

to test the theory

tae: ur not talking about my money and it’s making me itch stfu pls

yoongi: itch?

hobi: are you a crack addict?

jimin: namjoon would know a lot about that

namjoon: no i wouldn’t

stop saying that

jin: this watermelon just squirted on me

feeling violated

y/n: wtf?

hobi: i don’t think that’s normal

jimin: how tf a watermelon squirt

jk: pics

yoongi: what is wrong with you

namjoon: let’s do a phone detox

let’s all turn our phones off

for a month

tae: IM ITCHINGGGGG

jimin: namjoon 1 hour off the drugs

hobi: highkey gross get some cream or something??

jin: right i’m trying to eat here

namjoon: i don’t do drugs

jin: what if i sent a watermelon with a bomb in it to sm

namjoon: leave sm alone

jin: never

i’ll send a bomb for every unit they confused the poor world with

jk: 82

jimin: something about that number seems wrong

jk: 127

yoongi: didn’t laugh

y/n: think you did

tae: itched so hard i’m bleeding

hobi: we’re gonna let them kill tae before the bombs are sent right?

tae: ??

jin: that’s stupid

tae: right like 😭😭

jin: ofc lmao

tae: what

y/n: now we have a book out can we start a book club

namjoon: that would be cute

yoongi: idk if tae knows how to read like that

jk: i love boobs

*books

i SWEAR I MEANT TO SAY BOOKS

PLS BELIEVE ME

jimin: i don’t believe you

jk: PLS

tae: i love the sound of “book club”

hobi: ???

y/n: “book club”??

tae: what?

jin: he’s gonna say something dumb

tae: book club is code for sex?

jin: told you

y/n: what

hobi: bro

jk: it is?

yoongi: no

tae: guys i think ur getting old

all the kids know that

jk: i would like to try book club

did i say it right?

like the kids would

tae: no it’s gotta be more like

wanna join my book club 😉

jk: wanna join my book club 😉

tae: perfect

jk: i don’t have a book club tho

tae: that doesn’t matter

jk: i don’t like lying

i don’t think i can do this

yoongi: same

yoongi left “MILLIONAIRES CLUB + tae”

tae: he’s mad he’s old

doesn’t know the slang of todays children

jin left left “MILLIONAIRES CLUB + tae”

tae: lame

@y/n wanna join my book club 😉

y/n left “MILLIONAIRES CLUB + tae”

jk: DON’T TALK TO HER LIKE THAT YOU NASTY LITTLE LIAR

jk left “MILLIONAIRES CLUB + tae”

tae: lol wtf he mad as hell

hobi left “MILLIONAIRES CLUB + tae”

jimin left “MILLIONAIRES CLUB + tae”

namjoon: i really hope the person that you’re seeing is actually a therapist

namjoon left “MILLIONAIRES CLUB + tae”

401 notes · View notes

yukittywrites · 1 year ago

Text

Just Let Me Whisper in Your Ear~

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙

warnings: dom reader and sub yuta, toys (vibrators), face slapping (once), cock slapping (once), degradation, overstimulation and masochism

word count: 2.9k Read the full story (12.7k) here!

a/n: do you KNOW how hard it is to remove two more people from a scene and turn bxb into y/n all simultaneously and add in the world-building from a 13k story all at once??? you guys are so lucky i do this for you! reader is gender neutral, no mentions of your genitals/race/majorly identifying features. it is implied that you and 127 are in a giant poly relationship but it's not really plot necessary!

Yuta has been a little bitch as of recent, a teasing mess who has been pretending that he's the hardest dom ever, when both you and the entirety of the 127 members know that Yuta hardly doms at all.

Sure, perhaps when he's in a particular mood he'll dom, and it's true that he's pretty mean about it—you're never on the receiving end of it, but you've watched him with some of the other members and he's definitely a hard dom—but he's far more of a sub leaning switch than anything else.

So it's obviously laughable that he's been posturing like he has, but you have no tolerance for the obnoxious way he's been doing it.

The rest of NCT may let him get away with it, after all, he'd eventually give up when he decides he wants to get railed within an inch of his life.

So, it's no matter when you drag him away and throw him into his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him and shoving your lips against his.

Yuta kisses back eagerly, desperately, because that's what he is. Beneath grandeur, he's a desperate slut, eager to please, filled with dirty kinks and desire to be fucked.

"Strip and get on the bed, slut." You hiss, no tolerance, because you've had plenty up until this point.

Yuta's grin glints with mischievousness. "Make me."

"Ah, careful slut, you don't know what you're getting into."

Yuta giggles, "Hmm, are you sure?"

In fact, you were sure, and you were right, because Yuta is now two orgasms in with the promise of more on the way, absolutely incapable of understanding whatever was said.

Well, blame his own little dirty kinks.

He loves the idea of being spoken to entirely in English, finds the language incredibly sexy and always prefers when you use it while you fuck him, even if at times he barely understands it.

He certainly doesn't understand much of it now, his brain leaking out of his ears and coated in arousal with each orgasm he's lost to. He's been in Japan as of recent and so he's been refreshed in his native language, of course with still good Korean.

His English did not benefit from this stint, and so honestly, anything past the word "colour" is lost on him. He, however, doesn't want to admit it out loud and make you go back to speaking Korean, not when English was so much sexier, even unintelligible to him.

"What do I do with a bitch like you?" You ask rhetorically.

"You're such a whore that you'd let all of NCT fuck you at once, and it still wouldn't be enough for you. You're nothing more than a kinky little slut for all of us to use whenever you decide you want to be fucked stupid. You could never get enough of our dicks, even if we kept you on one at every moment of the day."

Yuta just shudders, hips rolling on the bed.

"I'm going to make you cum so many times you plead with me to stop, Yuta." You tell him, purposefully saying it in Korean just so that Yuta can moan again at the words, just so he can fully understand.

And he does, and he swears that you are intent on murdering him in cold blood during sex.

You could talk to him dirty for an hour and without even touching his dick once—in English or Korean—and Yuta could cum from it, he knows it, and you do too. Hell, you've tried it with minimal stimulation before and Yuta did cum.

You are just like the rest of the doms, using all the clues you have about Yuta and the way his body works to make him lose his mind with need, and it was fucking working.

You've made him cum from your fingers twice, once opening him up and another by simply finger-fucking him and shoving a vibrator in him, which has sat idly in him until now, until your hand ghosts back over the remote control while Yuta is distracted, and you finally touch that little power button.

Suddenly Yuta's body was racked with vibrations.

Though the pattern was lower than anything it's usually set on, with the added overstimulation of two orgasms behind him, it feels so much more intense even at a lesser volume.

Yuta's limbs twitch, jerking in your loose hold of him, a high whimper slipping from his throat. He knew even though it'd only been seconds with the vibrations going that he probably wouldn't last long—maybe not even through whatever you were intending to do with him.

"Ngh~ fuck, gah—" he chokes, and he was rapidly realising that his vocabulary was incredibly limited in Korean; he needed to use too much thought to formulate a sentence of coherence.

"Yeah, it's a lot, isn't it?" You coo, and Yuta may not really understand what was said, but he knows that you're pretending to seem sympathetic from just the tone used.

You may have a soft dom side that you show to your other subs; he's pretty sure that Mark is on the receiving end of it quite frequently, but that type of care is never reserved for Yuta.

No, whenever you dom Yuta it's with cruel words and even crueller actions, not with soft praises blending with mild degradation and soft demands.

When you were with Yuta, you both preferred it to be mean, to leave Yuta completely satiated by ripping out all of his stress in tears and sore throats.

Yuta knows your tone is fake and it's only confirmed to him when he feels a sharp slap against his cheek.

The burn leaves Yuta feeling heady with whiplash, a brutal moan getting forced out of him as though he'd been punched, shame swirling around in his stomach for enjoying something as dirty as being slapped in bed.

"Fuck, Fuck, Yuta you're so hot, you're so fucking pretty." You gasp, slipping out of your persona, only for a mere moment, your voice displaying the pure want that you keep hidden for the scene.

Yuta's moaning too at the words as though it was himself in awe.

Yuta lolls his tongue out, you're almost sure that it's subconscious, that he doesn't even realise it, but you're simultaneously focused on the way his abs tense and release every few seconds, the way Yuta's legs keep rustling on the sheets as the vibrator goes to town on him.

You are staring, eyes lidded at the sight of him, and you mess with the vibration movement to change it to a setting that feels more like Yuta is getting fucked, rather than just a simple vibration, and now Yuta is openly sobbing.

He cries out again, "please, please, please!" and he's not sure if he's pleading for you to keep going, to stop or to cum, but he's past the point of really thinking how to say more.

He doesn't need to, because you fully understand what he wants.

"What a little slut, you want to cum that bad do you? I knew you were desperate but you always seem to surprise me with how much you'd willingly debase yourself just for dick."

You actually slap his cock. Not nearly as hard as you did his face, since the skin is so much more sensitive there, but it makes Yuta scream.

The pain contrasts so harshly with every other feeling rushing through his body and it's overwhelming, as Yuta begins to break again.

He feels as though he could cum at any moment, humiliating because it can't have been that long since his last orgasm before the vibrator started, but he can't control himself anymore.

Yuta's entire body really is shaking now, unable to contain his pleasure when he feels so good, so wanted; making you so aroused and being the reason why you're so flushed, even with the dom persona alongside it. Not to mention the tone of voice you have and the words that he can barely process, all of which are adding up to be an incredibly intense experience.

You do what Yuta does frequently (if only because he knows how sexy it is in general, but also because all of 127 get off so much on the idea of cum eating, which is something else entirely) and drag your hand through his previous release that was coated on his stomach, with one hand you pry open Yuta's mouth and with the other you gather up the cum on Yuta's abs, shoving your fingers deep into his open mouth.

Yuta's eyes are rolling in his skull, tongue swirling around your long fingers, and when you start to fuck them deep into his mouth, into his throat, it once again feels like Yuta's last straw.

His borderline screaming moans don't sound like anything, not Japanese or Korean around the fingers inside of his mouth and he's not even sure what they would be even unobstructed. He actually feels as though his orgasm is bordering on more painful than pleasurous as he body twists on the bed. He hasn't managed to leave your reach but it feels as though his limbs have all left his control as he cums so hard it hits his neck and chin.

The vibrator cuts off and Yuta looks up to see your chest heaving and you staring as though you want nothing more than to take him and fuck him stupid.

He opens his mouth to say anything, whether it be smart or not, but nothing comes out as he goes to express himself in Korean.

He tries to think of what he was trying to say but his brain feels coated in syrup and his tongue feels as heavy as lead in his mouth.

You speak for him, however.

"Good slut. You're almost done, but you can take a little more, can't you?" You asks, but it's English and all Yuta can do is stare at you with dumb eyes, empty of recognition.

You tsk, "Poor slut, you really don't have a brain of your own. That's okay, it's a good thing you don't have to think, all good little whores have to do is open their legs whenever they're needed."

You say it in Korean, and Yuta can barely understand that, but the utterly broken moan that falls from his lips is worth breaking the English rule established.

"Give me a colour, Yuta. Can you take one more?" You ask.

"Green!" the sub squeals, and you groan lowly in response before replying with, "I need it in Korean, Yu." Genuine softness comes from the tone for the first time since their scene began and it makes Yuta realise that he'd said his answer in Japanese.

Korean, because you don't speak Japanese, but Korean is your second language, and you have to make sure that he's okay still.

"Green." Yuta replies, accent poor and word slurred but (barely) comprehensible nonetheless and you press a light kiss to his cheek before falling into character again.

"Remember, you said you could take one more."

This time, Yuta is as prepared as he could be for the vibrator to start up again, and braced himself accordingly.

It still didn't feel like enough, and Yuta was almost sure that nothing he did to prepare could've been.

"Oh! Uhnng~ Shit— ah!" It spilled out as gibberish, moans as his hips bucked.

One more orgasm felt so easy and yet so difficult to him, his cock felt absolutely spent and he was really overwhelmed by his arousal even after having cum so many times. He felt like his body was really at his limit but if you wanted him to do more, then he would.

He would be a good boy. He wanted it more than anything.

"That's it, Yuta. Focus on the feeling of that little toy inside you, I bet it feels good. It will never be as good as I would be, my body splitting you open and fucking you in every position I could think of, but I know it feels good and I know it can make you scream."

Yuta's not listening anymore, how can he be when he can barely even think.

His poor body is really at it's limit, his hips uncontrollably twisting in the air as if he could escape the assault on his prostate, his throat forcing out moans so high they might as well use them for the background high adlibs in one of their songs.

Yuta isn't going to last more than four minutes at the maximum and it's evident from the way he keeps fisting the sheets and convulsing.

He's trying too hard to not cum in seconds flat to think about what you are doing on top of him—though, if he should know anything from hooking up with you, it should be to never let you catch him off guard—that the feeling of lube dripping over top of his semi-hard erection makes him jolt in shock.

Why are you pouring lube on him? You can't surely expect Yuta to stay hard enough to fuck anybody and he can't take much more than what he's at right now.

"Yuta, can't wait to watch you wail and beg me to stop."

You are simply speaking Korean now, seemingly discovering that English was a lost cause when Korean itself poses the same difficulty that English did for him at the beginning of their scene.

Yuta can't process what was said before he hears a louder buzzing, and he can't process the sound before he feels a bullet vibrator touching his shaft.

And boy, does Yuta scream.

It's louder than any of them have ever made him before, a combination of shock and finally reaching a point beyond overstimulation really forcing it out.

"Y/n! Stop, fuck— I can't— AH!" Yuta babbles, finally in Japanese and even still unable to formulate a proper sentence.

You start to drag the bullet up and down, and Yuta really feels like he's losing his mind.

His body is fully convulsing now, hysterical sobs and his hands flailing around as though he was in search for his already flying body.

"Pretty." Is all you have to say, drinking in the sight of Yuta so far gone by your hands—by all of your collective efforts on him.

"Y/n! Stop, stop, too much! Too much, god— can't take it, please!" Yuta wails, his head flopping from side to side, fragments of Japanese that he can't manage to fully get out constantly spilling from his mouth.

Yuta can't bite back a single one of his noises, stop one of his movements, his body has entirely left his control.

"So good! It's too much— fuck, God!"

Yuta no longer can focus on anything at all, even you. All he can feel is the two vibrators brutally going against him, just his body and the feelings against it.

The bullet shifts, moving from his shaft to press against his cockhead and the moment it does, Yuta feels whatever rubber band inside of him snap.

"Gonna cum—Y/n, I'm cumming! Cumming! Fuck, fu-ck!"

Each word is a scream, and even after he wails out that final fuck, his mouth still hangs open in an unintelligible scream. Yuta's body writhes against the sheets so violently that you lose control of him, his body twisting in what feels like hundreds of different directions. His back arches so hard it looks as though it is about to snap in the middle and then he twists all the way over until he's flipped from his back to the bed to his stomach.

Yuta's brown irises aren't even visible, fully white with pleasure and Yuta is the pinnacle of someone who is entirely lost to their orgasm, consumed by it fully and overwhelmed entirely.

Yuta's orgasm goes on for what must be at least a minute, and you are nothing more than enraptured by the sight even after all you can see is Yuta's unblemished back.

Yuta screams, his cock shooting white all over his stomach and chest, few drops even hitting his neck, and he shakes until the end of his orgasm, when he goes entirely limp.

Yuta remains unmoving on the bed after his orgasm has passed through and you have the mind to roll him back over into his back and check to see if he passed out.

Yuta hadn't, however. He was still awake, though staring at the ceiling and reeling from what he just experienced.

You felt a little bit of relief at that, grateful to see that Yuta was still awake, even entirely distant, and you crawl onto the bed beside Yuta, ignoring the mess—you're definitely laying on Yuta's cum right now—to hold Yuta in your arms and begin the physical touch portion of the aftercare process.

Mark says something about getting some towels, water and some energy bars for them, and with that slips out of the room.

"I love you, Yuyu." you say, pressing a kiss to Yuta's lips that's barely reciprocated because he's so tired he's borderline asleep curled up against you.

"You're such a good boy, so perfect for me, so pretty." You murmur, raking your hands through his hair.

He hums, gravelly, and buries his head in your hair.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙

Again: read the full story here!

#dom!reader #nct smut #sub!nct #nct 127 smut #sub!kpop #sub!idol #kpop smut #yuta smut #sub yuta #nakamoto yuta #nct #nct drabbles #yuta drabble #nct yuta #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n

170 notes · View notes

scarletwinterxx · 1 year ago

Text

loving you is easy - mark lee imagine

hiiiii, 127 cb i have been summoned😅 for the past few weeks i've been inactive on all socmeds, sorry for the very few and slow posts. anyways, let's talk Fact Check haha what's your fave track? i think mine's Parade. the vocals in that one is soooo good.

So yeah i hope you like this one, i'll be back when I can💛🌻

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"It's one plane ride away, I'll be there in 3 months"

"That's 3 months too long" he grumbles, still pouting as he zips the last of his luggage. Mark hated being away for you, too many days and nights your time zone's don't line up. By the time it's morning for you, he'll be saying goodnight.

But now, things are about to change. This will be the last time you're saying goodbye to him for a long time but he doesn't know that. For now it's your little secret.

"It'll fly by fast, just like every other time. Now come here and give me cuddles, stop pouting like a kid" you tease him, opening your arms to welcome him.

Feeling his arms go around you, you further confirmed a fact you've known for years. The two of you can be continents away from each other, but your heart will always stay with one another. Mark really has become your home and in his arms are where you feel the safest and most loved.

"If you're sad then it's gonna make me sad, I don't want the last night to be all tears" you tell him, feeling his embrace tighten against you. He kisses the top of your head a few times before letting you go.

"You're right, sorry. No more sulking, it's just 3 months then you'll come to me" he smiles at you, the cute little dimple you love so much appearing on his cheek. You stand on your tiptoe to kiss it, savoring the warmth of him against your lips.

And you were right, the 3 months did fly by fast. Mainly because you were busy packing your apartment to move to another continent. You didn't keep much apart from your stuff and some of Mark's. It's kind of hard to travel with everything so you got rid of what you can.

The only person who knew you were coming was Johnny, who is currently waiting for you at the airport. Easily spotting the 6 foot Chicago guy from a distance.

"There she is! About time you got here, I don't think I can take another day of Mark whining about how much he misses you" he jokes, giving you a quick hug and taking your stuff to carry it himself.

"He doesn't know I'm coming, I'm suppose to fly out this weekend" you tell him while following behind

"Oh believe me I know, he won't let us forget"

You chuckle at his story, just thinking about surprising Mark makes you grin.

He dropped you off at Mark's apartment, you're familiar with the place since you've stayed here every time you fly over. What he doesn't know is you're here to stay with him for good.

It did took a lot of courage to make this decision but you didn't doubt it for a second. You know there's no other place you'd rather call home than where he is.

For a couple of hours you rested, cleaned the few dishes on the sink and picked up the towel he threw on the floor. A habit you knew he had, you've had that talk with him more than a few times and he always promises he won't do it again. You let him off the hook, for now.

You were in the bedroom when you hear someone by the door. Mark entered his place, tired from the whole day of work to notice the other pair of shoes by the door.

He threw his bag by the couch, along with his coat. He then walked to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, resting against the counter while he drinks and take a moment to look around.

This time he notices the dishes he was suppose to do this morning was gone. He brushed it off thinking he must've just forgotten he already did it. He then walked to the bedroom, the first thing he noticed was the towel that he definitely threw by the bed this morning. He remembers it because he's been thinking about it all day and how you'll be mad if you found out he threw it on the floor yet again.

He looks around, checking to see anything missing or different just in case someone broke in. But who would clean up if they're here to steal, he thoughts.

Mark then walks towards the bathroom to check, nothing there too so he walks back the bedroom. Just when he was about to go outside, you jumped out of your hiding spot to surprise him

"SURPRISE!"

"WHAT THE F- OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE" you didn't even get the chance to walk towards him because he's already running to you. Picking you up in an embrace.

"Is this for real or am I dreaming?" you hear him mumble

You giggle, patting him on the back so he could put you down. "This is real silly. I'm really here" you tell him.

He grabs you by the face and kisses you. As his lips lands on yours, he knew this was really real. You're actually here with him.

You can feel him smile against your lips, tilting your head to the side to kiss him deeper. Too many days wish he was with you, now he's here and you're not going to let go that easily.

He walks backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed. Landing on it gently with you still in his arms. You straddle his legs while the two of you get lost in each others kisses.

"Okay okay wait a sec" you giggle, pushing your lover away gently. Mark follows your lips though, kissing you a few more times before he lets you go but not too far.

"When did you get here?" he asks you

"Today, Johnny picked me up at the airport so I could surprise you" you tell him, your hands intertwine around his shoulders.

"I could've come and pick you up" he pouts.

Oh your sweet sweet boy.

You smile at him, rubbing your nose against his. Feeling like you're on cloud nine now that you're back together.

"Then it wouldn't be a surprise" you tell him, speaking of surprise you can't wait to see his reaction once you tell him your news.

"How long are you staying? I can take a few days off so we can go out" he tells you excitedly.

For you he would do just about anything. He can put his world on pause, stop everything for you.

"About that..."

"What? You can't stay that long?" he asks, already feeling sad but he tries not to let you see it.

"Actually, I'm not gonna go back" you tell him, not sure how to break the news to him either

"Huh?"

"Surprise number 2 I guess, I wanted to tell you for months now but I waited until everything is settled. So yeah. I'm here to stay, that is if you're looking for a roommate?" you ask

Mark didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, your words still processing in his mind.

"You mean you're staying here, with me ? Here? and you're not going to fly back? You're staying with me?"

You can't help but laugh lightly at him, pulling him closer once again to kiss him

"I'm gonna stay right here" you whisper, looking straight into his eyes.

"But what about your work? your friends? I can't ask you to leave your life there"

"Baby you're not asking me, I want to. I have friends here too, I can call my friends there and we can visit them. Plus you're my bestfriend. As for work, it just so happened they were looking for someone to relocate here to Korea. It was like fate wanted me to be here"

"Are you sure? I don't want you to give up everything, I don't mind the flights-"

"You do, I do. We both do. We just never said it outloud because we didn't want to be sad, but all I can think of when you're not around is how much I want to be with you. To be honest it's harder for me to be there than moving here where I know I could be with you"

He looks at you, trying to find the words to say

"Are you really really sure?" he asks again

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't. So you're stuck with me, for good" you tease a smile out of him

"It's hard for me too. It's the hardest when I'm so tired and I come back here and all I can think of is how much I want to come home to you. Every flight away from you was never easy"

"I know"

"So I guess this is your anniversary present?" he jokingly asks, you get off of his lap to stand up.

"It'll be hard to top this one" you joke

"I can just ask you to marry me" he says ever so casually, not missing how your cheeks reddened. You hit him lightly making your boyfriend laugh

"Hey, that's not fair"

"You're the one who's stuck me, you know I'm never letting you go now?"

"Good, cause I'm not going anywhere. Here's to 7 more years"

He smile at you before standing up to hug you again,

As you stare at each other eyes you can't help but feel this warm sensation in your chest. You really are home.

"I read somewhere that our cells change every 7 years or so" you mumble, he hums waiting for you to continue

"It's been 7 years since we first met, and until now I still feel the same way about you. I want every cell in my body to know what it feels like to love you, I want it to never forget how warm and lovely it feels it be in love with you. 7 years from now, 14 years and until the last cycle of this life, I want all of me to love all of you"

He stares at you, soaking each word coming out of your lips like a spell enchanting him. Making him fall even deeper in love with you.

"You know they say love isn't easy, but loving you is easy. It's like it's the only thing my heart and soul was made for. Every thought in my head, awake or even in my dreams, is always you" he tells you.

You can feel the tears starting to build up from too much happiness you're feeling right now.

"Wanna hear something crazy?" you mumble

"Do tell" he chuckles

"If you ask me to marry you right now, I'd say yes"

He smiles at you before closing the distance once again, like he just sealed a promise. Speaking a silent vow to make that come true, maybe tonight or tomorrow or 7 days/months from now. All he knows is he will live this life with you.

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slxsherwriter · 1 year ago

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The Big Wheel Groans

Fandom: Joy Ride

Pairing: None, hints of future Rusty x female reader

Word count: 3, 127

Warnings: Mentioned of parental death

Author's note: Rusty has taken a permanent residence in my brain. Waffled back and forth a few times on how innocent the reader would actually be. I think Rusty would do well with this polite, naive little thing. Bonus points to anyone who gets the title reference. May explain how I'm viewing these two.

Cigarettes, stale coffee, and greasy bacon. The scent was an immediate assault as soon as the door opened. Most would find it off-putting, but to you? To you, it brought up fond childhood memories of getting to tail along with your father; early morning drives out into the beautiful countryside, interspersed with stops like this. He always let you get some pancakes with whipped cream. The nostalgia washed over you like a crashing wave, and for just a moment, your chest tightened. As good as those memories were, the pain felt just as fresh as it had been two months ago.

Giving a polite smile to the woman that came and greeted you, it was easy to pick your way through the tables as she found a space against the wall on the opposite side of the tiny truck stop diner to set you.

"Passing through, honey?" You settled down and kept up with the kind smile. You damn well knew that she didn't always get the respect she deserved. Just the nature of the job and the location. Truckers? They could carry their own and knew well enough to be mindful. At least the generation that your father belonged to did. Yours? Not so much.

"Yes, ma'am." She seemed surprised to hear the response. "Not in any hurry, though. I'll take a coffee when you get a moment, please." You could see someone, definitely not one to frequent stops like this, was trying to get her attention.

"Well, ain't you a polite young thing," she offered with a soft laugh. "I'll bring your coffee right up." She headed off with an almost lazy step to her gait, clearly not in any sort of rush to take care of the demanding customer. The action was enough to force you to stifle a laugh behind your hand. Eyes had fallen on you when you had first entered and now? They had mostly returned to their own doings and business. That could have stemmed from the fact that you dressed sort of like you fit in amongst all the workers who spent their hours on the road. The beat-up Carhartt around your shoulders had belonged to your father. It had seen far better days, but it was the one thing you hadn't been able to give up.

Your father had been your rock, your steady shore, the one who had been there. He had raised you alone, did everything right. As much as he could. Older now, you realized the man had his flaws, but he cared for you very much and had done a hell of a job on his own. When your grandmother came into the picture when you were fifteen, upheaval and chaos reigned. She had managed to petition the courts to gain custody. That was what happened when one side had money and the other hadn't. A single father on the road for work versus the woman whose name meant something and had connections. It was a losing battle.

Playing in that world, high society, had always felt wrong. You had longed for the simple days in the rural home you had spent your childhood in. Money hadn't meant shit. Social events and gatherings were torturous at best, painful proceedings that you were forced through over and over again. All because you carried a name? Or well, supposedly did. A name you has forsaken as soon as the old woman passed away.

Sure, she had left everything to you, and it would be a hell of an easy life. But that wasn't what you had wanted. Selling her house, all the shit in it that you didn't need, you had found a beater car and headed right back to see your father.

It was only a few years later that he fell ill. All the money in the world couldn't beat out the consequences of smoking two packs a day and a life spent in a rig. Now, you were working on spreading his ashes cross country in the spots you visited as a kid. At least the money was being used for something.

In the blink of an eye, your meal, pancakes with whipped cream of course, and coffee were all done. All in all, it was a meal under 15 bucks. As discreetly as you could, you wrote out a note before shoving several large bills in the little folder. Enough to leave a healthy tip for the kind waitress and pay for the meals of the six other people occupying the bar space. Standing up, you stopped the waitress on your way out.

"Keep the change." It was all you offered before you stepped outside. You didn't need to see the results of your small act. You didn't do it for recognition. Hell, once you were done with this, you were retreating from the world to your fathers house and not leaving for a few weeks at minimum.

Sitting in your car, you were studying the map. GPS was good, and while you used it, it was always good to have the route planned out. Technology could shit the bed easily. At least reading and following the map was a sure thing. Mostly. Roads occasionally changed but not enough to end up lost with no knowledge of how to unstick yourself. A tap on the window caused you to jump, pressing the paper downwards for a moment.

A man stood outside your window, tall enough that you couldn't see his face right away, having to shift closer with him leaning his head down. Even so, his hat obscured his eyes. Scruff lined his chin, slightly peppered. This man was definitely a trucker. Quickly, you rolled down the window.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"That was an awful kind thing you did there," he spoke softly, his hand jerking back in the direction of the diner. You blinked, processing the words but reacting far slower than it should have been. That voice. Deep with that drawl. You could listen to it for hours. "Things like that don't happen too often." Was he looking for an explanation?

"Oh, it wasn't much, really." His eyes were running over the car. You knew how it looked. First impressions wouldn't scream that you had money. Which, maybe to a degree, it was a good thing. "What good is an inheritance if you can't put a little good out into the world? Would it be safe to assume that one of those rigs is yours?" You motioned towards the line of trucks not far from where you were parked.

"S'pose you could."

"My father was a trucker. The job isn't easy, and I respect what you do. The least I could do was pay for food and coffee. A good meal and some caffeine are important. My attempt to make up for all the bad that you have to deal with, at least in a small way." He seemed to mull the words over for a moment, almost as if it wasn't what he expected you to say. Then, a soft chuckle, a deep sound that sent a shiver down your spine, came from the man. His fingers drummed against the hood of your car for just a moment before he stepped back.

"Well, it's appreciated."

"It's really no problem at all. Happy to do something so small. Stay safe out there."

"You do the same, sweetheart."

****

The meeting stuck in your head, leaving a little smile on your face as you drove the long, mostly desolate stretches of highway for the next two days. There was one final special stop that you had to make, where the remainder of the ashes would be spread. It was off the beaten path, near an abandoned warehouse. The same little isolated lake that you and your father had always spent your birthdays. A little fishing, some deer watching, and the sort of peace and calm that didn't come from anything but a lack of interaction with the outside world. A place just for the two of you, away from the outside world and distractions. There was no work, there was no school, no one to bother and no one to interrupt.

The spreading of his ashes had been both painful and cathartic. A final goodbye that in a lot of ways you had not been ready for. But, there was no other option. Reality was what it was, and you couldn't hold on to him out of selfish reasons. Being back in that place brought back nothing but fond memories, some that you hadn't thought about in years, and some that you had forgotten.

You hadn't driven more than a couple miles off the road that led to the abandoned warehouse when steam started coming from your engine. Pulling the truck to the side of the road, you killed the engine and let out a small huff. Out in the middle of nowhere, there wasn't a chance for cell service, and nothing was within walking distance to be able to find a tow truck. Hopefully, it was something you'd be able to fix on your own, but you wouldn't know until you got out of the car and popped the hood. The heat coming from the engine was uncomfortable, and you had to pull your hand back twice before being able to lift the hood at all. Waving smoke out of your face, you waited for just a moment longer for things to clear before appearing into the engine to see if you could determine what was causing the problem. At the same time, you tried to keep a careful ear out for any cars that might be passing by. There wasn't a lot of traffic on the road, so you could only get one chance at flagging a car down if you were lucky. You didn't know all that much about engines, just the basics that your father had taught you when you were young. You hadn't had a chance to learn much more, unfortunately. Now would have been a great time to have that knowledge.

The rumble of a semi filled your ears as you cursed and pulled back from the engine. From what you could tell, it was possible that the head gasket blew. Which meant that there was not much you could do with the car. You would have to have it towed and fixed by a mechanic. Stranded. You are absolutely stranded if this truck didn't stop for you. Before you even had the chance to stand up and pull back fully from the car and stick a thumb out, the sound of the brakes being hit filled the empty area around you. The trucker was coming to a stop before you would even ask for help. Hopefully, that was a good thing.

It took a second from the time the truck stopped for the door to open. In that time, you watched curiously, perhaps a little too relaxed, but it was in your nature. The few friends you had always said that you always thought of people as too good. But it hadn't caused problems yet, so what did they know?

"Ya broke down?" The distinct voice was familiar, even after only encountering it once. He was leaning over from the driver side, peering out through the open passenger door.

"I'm not the best with engines, but I think the head gasket went. So, it might be a lost cause." You wiped your hands against your pants for a moment, trying to clean them up a bit.

"Judging from the smoke, don't think you are going anywhere, any time soon. Why don't you hop in and I can give ya a lift to the next town." You glanced at the car for a moment before moving to grab your bag.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna inconvenience you. Or your run. I know things can be time sensitive." You glanced at the trailer that his rig was hauling, almost instantly feeling bad that he had stopped. You could remember your father complaining about eighteen, twenty hour shifts at a time to cover the necessary ground, when he thought that you couldn't hear that was.

"It isn't out of the way. Come on, get in." Any more hesitating would be time wasting. One step up, and you had to grab the bars to take the next step and keep your balance before swinging yourself into the passenger seat. Quickly, you closed the door.

"Thank you, really. I thought I was going to be there awhile." Your eyes bounced around the rig, unable to help it as you took in the inside of the cab or the way that a smile came without warning. "I haven't been inside a truck like this in forever. She really is gorgeous. Peterbilt, right?" He was already getting the truck moving again.

"Gotta say I'm impressed. Ain't too many that don't drive and know their stuff. 359, 1986."

"My mechanic skills may not be the greatest, but I like to think I know my trucks." It was a light tease, any and all pride lacking from the words. In the look around, you have spotted a few places you could leave him some cash for the ride. It was the least that could be done. "Oh, I'm sorry. I've been terribly rude." You had never introduced yourself, which you quickly remedied.

"You can call me Rusty." Probably part of a CB handle, but it hardly mattered. You had a moment where you struggled to decipher if he preferred quiet or if he wanted to chat. Talking wasn't something that you would push. If he wanted to, sure he would initiate, and if not, you didn't mind being silent.

It went on for a little longer, the silence and atmosphere of the cab comfortable. Miles seemed to pass under the large wheels within the blink of an eye.

"What are you doing out here, all on your own?" The question was bound to come eventually. You paused for just a moment before glancing away from the road finally and towards the man.

"Spreading my Daddy's ashes." His eyes tore from the road the same way yours had, this time as if trying to judge if you were being honest. "Stopping at all the places that we had visited when I was little. He raised me. First couple years of my life, I practically lived in his rig with him. A couple miles back? Off Whitey close to that abandoned warehouse, about a mile off there is a little secluded lake. We would spend birthdays there. Fishing, wildlife watching, me playing hooky from school. It was the last stop." Your voice softened as you neared the end of the explanation. A pang in your chest. One that wasn't as strong as it had been the last few months.

"I'm sorry to hear he passed." The words had been repeated by a few people, that sort of unsure what to say but needed to offer something for condolences. It was an awkward situation to try to maneuver around. But you appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. "Ya mind me asking how ya came into all that money then? Can't say I got a stash laying around like that." The question brought a slightly bitter sound from your throat before you could stop it.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to do that. It's just…not the best of memories. My maternal grandmother. Never knew my mama, not entirely sure what happened to her. But when the older woman found out, she petitioned the court for custody. The usual foul rhetoric spewed about my father and his occupation. Not being suitable for children and such. Helped that she had money and connections." You paused as the rush of memories washed over you. Hands unconsciously tightened against your bag before you let out a shuddering breath. "She was one of those folks who always looked down their noses at everyone who didn't come from the so-called elite. Better than everyone else. Couldn't stand to be around her and that life. People like that? They ain't any good. Aren't honest, don't know a day of hard work in their life." You could hear the slight crink of leather, likely from the steering wheel but paid little mind.

"I didn't want anything to do with her or that life. She passed right before I turned eighteen, thinking she had gotten what she wanted with me being molded into her image. Left everything. I couldn't sell the house and business off fast enough. Got my name changed back, legally. Went straight back to the small country home I had grown up in. Never wanted the money and don't have too much of a need for it. It's a silly idea, but I try to counter all the negative, nasty things that she did by giving it away where I can." You had always been an open book to everyone. Oversharing had never gotten you in trouble yet. A habit that your grandmother had tried to break you of but had never been successful. Ever.

"Ain't all that silly, sweetheart." There was a different note to his voice. Something soft, something that made you feel a swell of some unknown emotion in your chest. Your cheeks felt a little hot. At least someone didn't think it was silly. Your friends indulged you, of course, but you knew occasionally they spoke about it behind your back. "World would be a better place with more people who thought like that."

Again, a few minutes of silence passed, as if the exchange was being digested and determinations were being made. Well, you were more content to just enjoy the rumble of the truck and the passing landscape.

"You look like you could use some sleep. Why don't you get some shut eye. Next town is still about sixty miles out."

"Are you sure?" You couldn't deny that the rhythmic rumble was lulling you into that relaxed peaceful state. But you didn't want to be rude either.

"Hun'red percent. Ain't gonna bother me none. I'll wake you when we are getting close, okay?"

Was it smart to fall asleep in the rig of a man you didn't know? Hardly. You weren't that naive. But, at the same time, you didn't feel a single sense of danger from the man. Shifting a little and pulled the jacket around you to act more like a blanket, you settled your head against the window.

"Thank you, Rusty." Eyes closed, it didn't take long for sleep to take a hold, leaving you unaware of the eyes that had turned to take you in, or the shift in intent in the truck.

#joy ride #rusty nail #rusty nail x reader #slasher x you #slasher writing #horror writing #rusty nail joyride

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kpopsexstories · 10 months ago

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NCT MOST MEMORABLE SEX – Story #14: HAECHAN

A new story/member every Monday. Click here to view the posting schedule.

Story: Haechan gives Mark and Jungwoo hand jobs in the shower.

Type: UNCONVENTIONAL

Content: Masturbation, Boys showering together, Hand job, Gay (sort of), Cumshot (several)

Word Count: 4,268

Members: Haechan, Mark, Jungwoo, (Johnny, Ten, Doyoung)

Story #14: HAECHAN

Showering together was not a regular occurrence among the NCT members, but over the years it did happen quite frequently. At gyms, in various dressing rooms, and during activities in their free time, to name a few examples. Anywhere with shared showers, really, and most members had seen the majority of their friends naked at some point.

It was not normal, however, that the members would get hard together, and certainly not that they'd touch each other in the nude. That’s why Haechan’s most memorable sexual experience stood out to him, and became a secret that frequently aroused him.

Back in their very first dorm, nudity in front of others had sometimes been a necessity. The cheap dorm had only one bathroom, with a dual shower in it, and not enough time in the day for everyone to have their turn alone.

Not only would the members shower side by side, but some would happily parade naked through the dorm. As young teenagers, this was odd and embarrassing to Haechan and several of the others, yet also something they joked, laughed and giggled about. Haechan saw more dicks in this time than most men who don't frequent locker rooms do in a lifetime.

Ten in particular stood out in the group. He would always jump at the opportunity to share the shower with someone. Johnny too, who had never been ashamed of showing himself in the nude. At one point, it was a running joke that the two would only shower together.

Still, privacy had always been respected, and being young teens many of the members were uncomfortable with nudity in general. Thus, a system had quickly formed in which everyone patiently awaited their turn, when time allowed it.

That first dorm was a long time ago though. They had all come a long way since then. Nowadays, they all had their own private bathrooms. They had also matured, and grown incredibly close, to the point that nudity and sex was not a matter they giggled or felt nervous about. They were not teenagers anymore.

That said, because so much time had passed since the last time he had to share a shower with someone, on the day of this story Haechan was taken by surprise.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, when the members of NCT 127 explored the makeup area, changing rooms, and finally the associated shower of the particular venue in which they were about to perform.

“What?” Johnny said. “It's not like you haven't seen this bad boy before.” He clutched his crotch and everyone in the group laughed. Maybe some where more mature than others, after all.

“Not voluntarily,” Haechan joked back.

The shower room which they all stood in had nine heads, an open floor plan and no privacy whatsoever. It was an efficient solution in terms of saving space, but it was rare that a venue would expect them to get naked together.

The show was a sweaty affair. It lasted for several hours, and when the boys came off stage for the last time of the evening, their drenched bodies were pumping with adrenaline. Exhausted from the physical efforts of their performance, and hot from the strong lights and arena full of fans, they returned to the dressing room and began to spread out.

Haechan went to have his makeup removed, but some went straight to the showers to wash up and get changed. Taeil and Jaehyun excused themselves early, and headed back to the hotel to clean up there. An underground tunnel connected the arena to where they'd be spending the night.

When Haechan was ready, he peeked inside the showers. Johnny, Doyoung and Yuta were inside, naked and soaped up. They were facing the far-end wall with their backs to the door, deeply engaged in a conversation about the show.

When Doyoung turned around, Haechan couldn’t help but glance at his long, slack dick. When Doyoung caught him staring, Haechan smiled but quickly decided not to interrupt his friends. He nodded, turned around and left.

He sat down on a couch outside to await his turn, and Jungwoo and Mark came to join him. They began to chat, about highlights from the show, the choreographs, and details they could improve on.

Eventually, Johnny came out of the showers and left, shortly followed by Yuta and Doyoung. They said goodnight, but the threesome on the couch didn't get up. They were too engaged in their conversation, and before they knew it they'd been sitting there for over an hour.

“How's your girlfriend?“ Mark asked.

“Alone and longing for me,” Jungwoo winked. “This tour is almost over though. I can't wait to see her.”

“Must be frustrating to go so long without sex,” Haechan said. Not that he’d had any himself recently. Perhaps that was why he wanted to talk about it.

“The worst!” Jungwoo laughed. “I've jerked off so many times these past weeks my dick is sore.”

Haechan was not a virgin, but sex was not something he had frequently, and unlike some of the other members, certainly not on tour. Jungwoo had been in a steady relationship for a while, and often arrived late to practice because of it. They regularly joked about how the couple couldn't keep their hands off each other.

Mark, who was single, was also feeling naughty. “It's the first thing I'll do when we get back to the hotel,” he announced.

“Me too,” Jungwoo nodded. “Performing makes me horny as fuck.”

“Me too,” Haechan agreed. ”I don't think we've had a single show where I haven't jerked off immediately after. I once did it in a bathroom, because we were going straight to a dinner.”

Despite his infrequent experience with the opposite sex, Haechan was known to be dirty. He was often quick to joke about sex, talk about sex, or make naughty comments toward the other members. In that sense, he was still the least mature among them. The members all loved him for it.

“Have you ever jerked off with another member?” Jungwoo suddenly asked. Perhaps it was the distance from his girlfriend and the sexual frustration it resulted in that made him ask such a question, but surprisingly, Mark instantly confirmed that he had.

“When?“ Haechan gasped. “Who?“

“With Ten,” Mark said. “We once shared a hotel room. He was horny, as were I. We were in separate beds though.”

“You remember our first dorm, the one with the double shower?“ Jungwoo asked. “I know for a fact that Ten jerked Johnny off in it.”

“No way!” Mark exclaimed.

“It's true. Johnny told me himself.”

Their conversation was interrupted when a member of staff came by. “Are you going to the showers?“ she asked.

The boys confirmed.

“You're the last ones left and I'm about to leave, but take your time. Let security know when you're done and they’ll escort you to the hotel.”

They all bowed in respect and confirmation, and Jungwoo was first to get up. Mark followed, and Haechan had no choice but to join them.

The initial shock about showering together had settled though. It was no big deal, after all, and Johnny was right. They were no strangers to seeing each other naked. The image of Doyoung’s dick returned in his mind.

In the shower room there was a wooden bench to the immediate left of the door. They placed their change of clothes on it, and began to undress. Haechan took off his shoes and socks. Jungwoo started with his shirt and worked his way down. Mark was next to the door, soon standing in his underwear and t-shirt.

“Do you ever jerk off in the shower?” Jungwoo asked.

“Depends,” Mark said. “I keep a box of tissues by my bed, but if I'm not alone in the room I have done it in the shower.”

“I usually lock myself in the bathroom,” Haechan pitched in. Then he laughed. “You all think I'm pooping.”

“That explains your bathroom habits,” Jungwoo joked.

“In bed, I usually come in my underwear though.”

“Ew,” Mark said and frowned.

“What, it's convenient,” Haechan said. “I throw them in the laundry immediately after!”

“Even when you jerk off in public bathrooms?“ Jungwoo asked and gave his friend the side eye.

“Well, alright, sometimes I keep them on. That time though, I came in the toilet.”

Jungwoo pulled down his underwear. Completely naked, he looked at his friends.

“Imagine how much cum went down the drain in that first dorm,” he said.

“Yeah, we used to joke about it,” Haechan said. “Twenty-one boys in a single room. No one could jerk off in bed back then. That shower washed down so much sperm.”

Naked and ready to wash the now dry sweat off his body, Jungwoo was first to walk to the shower heads. He picked the one in the middle, at the far-end wall, and turned on the water. His naked body was slim, and his ass was flat. Among the members, he was definitely the skinniest.

Haechan was next. Still a little shy, he turned his back on Mark before he took off his underwear and revealed his bare cheeks. He walked over to the closest head, by the wall on the left. He faced the wall, still somewhat unwilling to fully reveal his private part in front of the others.

Mark wasn't embarrassed at all. His dick swung as he walked toward the wall on the right. Haechan couldn't help but turn his head to take a peek at it. Mark caught him looking, but didn't say anything.

They soaped up their bodies in silence, with lotion and shampoo from bottles fixed to the walls. Eventually, Haechan turned around completely. Curiosity got the better of him.

Mark's body was slim and firm, but like Haechan he lacked abs. They were not part of the muscular clique, which included members like Jeno and Johnny. Mark was famous for his round ass though, which stood out even now when he wasn't wearing pants. His dick was average, but he had an unusually large ball sack hanging underneath it.

Jungwoo's dick was long and slim. He was also the only one in the room who was cut. His body looked toned because of how skinny he was, but his abs were faint and his chest unnaturally flat, which revealed that he didn't work out the way some of the others did.

“Hey, I see you looking,” Mark said suddenly.

“What, I'm curious,” Haechan grinned. He wasn't embarrassed about being caught.

“Does it turn you on?” Jungwoo joked.

“No. I'm not Ten. If anyone would be turned on in here it would be him. Maybe Johnny too, but in his case more so because seeing himself turns him on.”

All three of them laughed. Still, the thought of being turned on was exciting. Haechan suddenly felt a tingle between his legs.

Without thinking, which was so often the case, he suddenly came up with a suggestion.

“If we're all going to jerk off back at the hotel anyway, why not now?”

“What, together?” Jungwoo asked.

“Sure, why not? Not because you turn me on, but because all this talk does. And I'm still high from the show.”

Mark was surprisingly quick to jump onboard. “I'm down,” he said.

Jungwoo, who was done with his shower and ready to leave, turned off the water and walked over to the bench where he grabbed his towel.

He snickered while he rolled the towel, and began to playfully snap it at his friend. Haechan laughed and leaped out of the water. He ran around, past Mark, to grab his own towel in self defense. Jungwoo came at him, and soon the naked boys were engaged in a playful fight.

Mark giggled and observed from a distance, while scrubbing the remaining soap off his body. He too felt a sudden tingle. There was definitely something arousing in the air.

When the boys calmed down, he called for their attention. “Let's do it,” he said and grinned.

Haechan and Jungwoo turned to face him. They were met by the sight of Mark, standing firm under the running water, with a hard dick in his hand.

“Hah!” Haechan said with a grin. He couldn't take his eyes off his friend.

Jungwoo laughed loudly. “What the hell?” he said. “You’re horny?”

“Yeah,” Mark shrugged. “I haven’t had sex in months. My balls are bursting.”

“Well, you're not going to fuck us,” Haechan declared.

“No, but I bet we can fill this drain too.”

Jungwoo smiled wide. He put his towel down and returned to his initial shower head. He grinned while playing with his still soft cock.

Haechan was slower to react, and Jungwoo looked at him with a naughty expression. “Come on then,” he said and winked.

“Are we really doing this?” Haechan asked.

“It was your idea,” Mark pointed out.

Masturbation starts here...

Haechan thought for a moment. Then without a word he went to stand between Mark and Jungwoo, in the far right corner. He too started stroking his shaft, and without so much as glancing at the others he felt a sudden tension in the room.

Mark and Jungwoo’s presence next to him, and the way they undoubtedly looked at him to see what he would do in this moment, felt piercing. He became hard in seconds.

For a while, none of them said a word. Jungwoo had a hard time getting it up, and began thinking about his girlfriend. It helped, and he soon had a stiff shaft in his hand. Mark was still hard but moved his hand slowly, as if he was either really enjoying the moment, or was waiting to see what the others would do. He didn’t want to be the first to come.

Haechan always used both hands when he jerked off. Now, he spread his legs while he rubbed the shaft between his palms.

When they were all hard, but had not yet come to terms with what they were doing, they looked at each other and began to giggle. Haechan felt nervous, but the laughter comforted him. Still, when things were weird he had a tendency to say strange things, and that’s exactly what he did in this moment.

“Can I touch it?” he asked and looked down at Mark’s erection.

“Hell no!” Mark exclaimed.

“Why not?” Haechan asked. “I just want to feel it. I’ve never held another man’s dick before.”

“And why should you?” Mark asked. He laughed at how silly his friend was being. “That’s weird as hell.”

“Why though?” Jungwoo asked. He was leaning against the wall under the running water, stroking his cock slowly, and had a contemplative expression on his face. “It always feels great when my girlfriend gives me a hand job. You’re not her, but I’m sure it would still feel good. It’s just physics. Or biology. Whatever. Why is it weird for guys to touch each other, especially if we’re all touching ourselves in private? It’s not like it would mean anything, and even if it did there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You seem to have thought a lot about this,” Mark joked.

“Nah, I’m just thinking out loud,” Jungwoo said. “If it feels even better when someone else does it, why aren't guys allowed to pleasure each other?”

“That's the kind of strange but real reasoning I'd expect from Mark, not you,” Haechan said and laughed. But he saw an opportunity. “Can I touch yours then?”

“No,” Jungwoo said and grinned. “That’d be like cheating. Only my girlfriend can touch this.”

Mark thought for a moment. His dick was throbbing as blood rushed through it. “Alright,” he eventually said.

“Alright what?” Haechan asked. He suddenly felt excited. This was so not him, and not something he’d ever thought about doing, but for some reason the idea appealed to him. It was a new experience.

“Alright, you can touch my dick,” Mark repeated.

Haechan’s face lit up. “Really?” he said.

Mark didn’t respond. Instead, he straightened his back and turned his pelvis in Haechan’s direction.

Haechan took a step closer to him. Am I really doing this? he thought. The suggestion had partly been a joke to ease the tension, but it didn’t come from nowhere. He actually wanted to try this. Mark’s boner pointed straight out, calling to him.

When he was inches away from it, he reached out and let his fingertips touch the shaft. The dick jolted, hardened by a sudden rush of blood. For a moment, both men held their breaths.

Then Haechan felt courageous. He looked up at Mark and their eyes met. Mark smiled naughtily, as did Haechan. Without breaking eye contact, he suddenly wrapped his hand around the shaft.

Mark’s smile immediately disappeared. “Fuck,” he said and closed his eyes. “That does feel good.”

Jungwoo stood and watched them. He grinned and smiled to himself. The sight didn’t turn him on at all, but the situation was both funny and thrilling, and he thoroughly enjoyed it.

A barrier had been broken, and Haechan was no longer shy. He was around friends, and felt comfortable in the odd situation. Encouraged by Mark’s positive reaction, he began to jerk his friend off.

Mark let him. It was easy to forget that it was Haechan and not some beautiful woman who pleasured him, because the physical touch felt amazing. His mind suddenly went blank, and perhaps that’s why he said what he said next: “Make me come.”

This was the sentence that escalated everything from curious exploration, to a mutual masturbation party.

Haechan felt inspired by Mark's words. He jerked faster, and grabbed his own dick with his free hand. Mark kept his eyes closed and tilted his head back. He let Haechan's hand pleasure him, and quickly felt an orgasm coming.

Jungwoo suddenly felt out of place. He laughed to ease the tension, but the sight of Haechan jerking both Mark and himself off was strange, yet exciting, and he was left with a choice: to stay away and feel awkward, or to go over and join them.

He decided to join them. With slow steps, he walked over to his friends and stood beside them. He looked down at the two dicks, and held out his own.

Three boners were now in a close circle. Three hard and horny young men sharing an unexpected but arousing experience.

Once Jungwoo was by his side, Haechan didn't even hesitate. He let go of his own shaft, and slowly reached for Jungwoo's. He wasn't sure if Jungwoo would let him take it, but he wasn't stopped. Jungwoo smiled at his friend, let go of his shaft, and gave in to the pleasure of Haechan's fingers wrapped around it.

With both hands occupied, Haechan milked his friends. Mark was easy to please, and he moaned and grunted occasionally. Jungwoo, who was in a relationship and had reservations, was harder.

“Faster,” Mark said. Haechan did as he was told.

Rapidly, he continued to stroke the shafts of the horny boys. He hunched down a little to get a better grip. He glanced from side to side, first at Mark's dick and the large balls shaking violently beneath it, then at Jungwoo's. He smiled to himself, as he realized that what they were doing was insane. Insane, but somehow so natural.

Suddenly, Mark's body jolted. There was no warning as his moans remained steady, but it quickly became clear that he had reached his climax.

Cum oozed out of his dick head. It dripped down into the drain and Haechan's fingers, before it was washed away by the running water.

Some of it shot out and landed on Haechan's arm. It took him by surprise, as he'd never before contemplated if he could make another man come, and what it would be like. When it did register what was happening, he sneered, quickly let go of the shaft, and pulled his hand away. Did I just cause that? he thought.

Jungwoo quickly jumped backwards when he too realized what was happening. He laughed, while Mark groaned and giggled at the same time.

Mark took over and pointed the head to the floor, where water washed away his produce. For a few seconds, the cum kept coming, and Haechan was amazed by the sheer volume of it.

“Damn,” Jungwoo said. “How much can those balls of yours hold?”

Haechan too began to giggle. He quickly washed his arm, disgusted and a little shocked by the sensation of Mark's cum on his skin, and the reaction his hand movements had caused in his friend.

Mark was panting, but slowly coming back to reality. “Holy shit,” he said and looked first at Haechan, then at Jungwoo. “You were right. From now on I never want to jerk off by myself! Haechan, can I call on you every night?”

The joke landed well, and the three laughed like it was the funniest thing ever. It was a moment of relief, in which a mixture of thrill, arousal, awkwardness and joy was released all at once. The laughter was confirmation that none of the boys had anything against what they were doing.

In a way, it wasn't just Mark who had orgasmed, as Haechan too felt a strong release by the situation. Not an actual orgasm, but a different kind of release, one that's made the day so memorable to him.

He hadn't come yet though, and was still incredibly horny. As was Jungwoo, who suggested what they would do next.

“I'll race you,” he said and looked at Haechan, while Mark turned to wash his now slack dick in the running water. “Whoever comes first wins.”

Haechan was actually relieved by the proposal. He'd worried that he'd be made fun of for having taken things this far, but the sudden change of focus meant he was off the hook.

And if he were indeed to orgasm himself in front of his friends, he needed a purpose to make it feel okay. A contest was a funny idea. If Mark's ejaculations hadn't already convinced him that everything was fine, a little competition nailed it for him.

And so he agreed. Jungwoo returned to the far-end wall and leaned against it. He spread his legs, tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Soon, he was grimacing excessively while imagining his girlfriend's naked body.

Haechan stepped away from Mark and took a good look at his friends to either side of him. Mark snickered and smiled wide at him, as he soaped up his body a second time. Jungwoo was already in his own world.

If he were to win, Haechan needed to get going. He widened his stance and resumed his previous hand movements with both palms.

He had an advantage over Jungwoo, whose cut dick meant he was less sensitive. Jungwoo had a firm grip around his whole shaft, and held it hard to get the necessary friction.

Haechan, on the other hand, focused on the head and touched himself much more softly. When he quickly but gently rubbed his palms against the head he could usually come in under a minute, which was quite a feat.

There could only be one winner, and he was determined it would be him. Alas, he failed.

With his girlfriend's hot body in mind, Jungwoo was next to reach an orgasm.

Still leaning against the wall, he moved both his hand and pelvis back and forth until he ejaculated. He released the grip around the shaft, and the sperm shot out in front of him as the dick swayed freely in the air.

“Look, no hands!” he said as if it was some sort of achievement. To his friends, it was.

Haechan came a close third, as he hunched over and picked up the pace. Mark was looking at him, and Haechan caught his gaze. To purposefully make things weird, he decided to maintain eye contact while he came. It was his idea of being funny.

Haechan's cum came in three waves. Like Mark, he pushed his dick down to get it all in the drain. The first wave was a pre-show. It oozed out slowly, dripping from his shaft and to his feet. The second was the main event, which shot out fast and far. The third was the encore, and it oozed out slowly much like the first.

All this without taking his eyes off Mark's fascinated face, though Mark wasn't looking him in the eye any longer. He was looking at the dick, and at the white liquid which diluted on the floor until it was all washed away.

“Wow,” Mark said. “My balls may be bigger, but they've got nothing on yours.”

“Holy shit,” Haechan said. “That felt awesome.”

Jungwoo was still panting by the wall, coming down from his own high.

“Well,” he said. “Thanks boys, for a great experience.”

They did a final round of washing off, before they got dressed and walked out of the room. They told security that they were leaving, and whispered and giggled the whole way back to the hotel.

“Let’s promise to keep this a secret,” Jungwoo said. Mark and Haechan quickly agreed. It was better not to mention any of this to anyone.

To Haechan, the time when he gave Mark a hand job and made him come, and had a masturbation contest with Jungwoo, became a most memorable experience. And they all kept their promise, as no one ever mentioned the event again. And that was indeed for the best.

🤍💜💙💜🤍

Want to read more NCT stories like this one? Check out the NCT Most Memorable Sexual Experiences series. A new story and member is posted every Monday!

#nct #nct dirty #smut #nct 127 #nct smut #nct dream #haechan #mark lee #nct haechan #nct jungwoo #jungwoo smut #nct mark smut #nct haechan smut #haechan smut

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saketoge · 10 months ago

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KASS CAFÉ FEATURED MENU TOP 20 TITLE TRACKS OF 2023 insp: x, x | cr: flaticon

tagged by my beloved @xiaojuun 💕

*walking in late with an iced coffee* hii welcome to kass café ! home of my top picks of the year! here are 20 of my favorite title tracks, singles, and pre-releases from 2023, loosely organized by Vibe™️ and paired with some of my favorite coffee shop drinks. come by if you like and share a tune and a fun little beverage with me ! hot and caffeine free options also available 😊

in no particular order: PERFUME - NCT DOJAEJUNG / SPICY - AESPA / CREAM SODA - EXO / MOVE - TREASURE (T5) / SUPER - SEVENTEEN / PERFORMER - VANNER / FACT CHECK - NCT 127 / S-CLASS - STRAY KIDS / LOVE WAR - YENA / SWEET JUICE - PURPLE KISS / CHILL KILL - RED VELVET / ROVER - KAI / GOLDEN HOUR - MARK LEE / FIGHTING - BSS / HANA - INI / GROOVY - CRAVITY / KICK IT 4 NOW - TNX / MEMORIES - RIIZE / LIP GLOSS - THE BOYZ / SUGAR RUSH RIDE - TOMORROW X TOGETHER

i'm definitely one of the last people to do this so i won't tag anybody but if you see this and wanna share consider this ur tag! :)

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kz-i-co · 2 years ago

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Don’t Fall In Love: Part 4

Summary: You are one of the most popular bloggers on your campus, telling enriching stories of your personal heartbreaks anonymously. But your readers are not ready to handle the newest heartbreak of finding out your best friend dating your ex.

Paring: Lee Haechan (Donghyuk) x f!reader

Genre: college au | angst x smut

Warning: story may contain strong language, mentions of drugs and alcohol - sexual references - reader discretion advise.

Words: 3.8k

A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying this story...the drama is flooding in XD - plus more smut so IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 - PLEASE DON’T READ!!, also please leave feedback so I know you are enjoying because sometimes thoughts and concerns can influence the rest of the story :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5

Masterlist | Nct 127 Masterlist | Nct Dream Masterlist

Taglist: @lovingvoidgoatee, @lunaryoongie, @matchahyuck, @yixingtion, @mosviqu, @ohmyhuenings, @nctzennikki09, @rosiejunnie, @roxyvogue, @5seos, @aaphroditeprjde, @fullsunkist, @emvrd

:::

LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #54

"To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves"

My new life moto....you guys like it? Because I'm living it - Jesus help me. What have I done?

It's been over an hour since he left and I'm being eaten alive. I want him, I need him and I'm stupid to let him go and now I'm here suffering.

Xoxo peace

:::

You woke up the next morning to comments flooding your notification that you barely had time to process the sunlight peeking through but you were glad everyone was enjoying your suffering while you wanted throw yourself out the window. But when push comes to shove you were beyond curious what everyone was saying.

How many sluts are you gonna get?

-"OMG NO WAY!!!" -"I KNEW IT!!! I KNEW SHE WAS STILL IN LOVE WITH D." -"I called that from the beginning!" -"I still think you're making this shit up." -"wait what happened with J - I need more information." -"You're telling me D cheating is nothing more than a misunderstanding? Does that mean he's been innocent this whole time? Girl >.<" -"GO GET YOUR MAN." -"wait what now? Your friend? Hello?" -"SLUT!!!" -"your friend deserves to know the truth." -"how is this all going on in my school? Where have I been?" -"this girl is nuts, Idek why I'm still reading. She falsely accused her bf of cheating and then makes him cheat on his new girlfriend aka best friend. Is anyone falling for this shit?" -"relationships are messy - give her a break. Clearly he is still in love with her, if they hooked up." -"is it weird I find this cute? Unrequited love <3" -"you have nothing to regret, he was yours first." -"*cough* slut XD" -"how do I enroll here?" -"so J is done? Can you tell us who he is so we can have a chance ;)"

That's enough reading - you knew you would get some hate comments but at least some people are supported. But you knew one thing for sure, you needed to talk to Donghyuck as soon as possible.

...

You hesitated before knocking on his door because what do you even say to him? You read the instant regret on his face the moment you pulled apart. You turned everything into a mess and now you were both left clueless on what comes next.

10 am - was he even awake yet? Here goes nothing.

The door opened in two knocks, which means he was already awake and probably expecting you to come.

"Oh hey." He said quite surprised. Maybe he wasn't expecting you. He looked tired and had a more visible look of bags evidently under his eyes giving him a dark but overly attracted look under his clear framed glasses. He didn't wear his glasses often but when he does it was beyond attractive - something you could never understand.

You came to talk that's it....right?

"Hi-" You were about to give him your whole spiel but he opened the door more rushing you inside and closed the door behind him. Mark was again not there leaving you nervously alone. "I guess we should talk."

You sat on his bed and he in his computer chair, you couldn't tell if the atmosphere was awkward or just tense but you took a deep breath ready for anything.

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Last night was-" You began hoping he would cut you off but listened to you closely instead. You couldn't read him at the moment. You figured he felt regret but now you weren't so sure. "I think we- I don't know."

He sighed but it was more of a sign of relief. "I'm just gonna be honest with you (Y/N)-" He began worrying you all over again. "Last night shouldn't have happened. Even if we tell Min the truth it's not like we can go back to the way things were."

"You mean staying with Minjeong or about us?"

"There is no us....we broke up." He started but saw the disappointment in your face. "I don't know." He rubbed his temple as a headache was visible.

"I think Min deserves the truth first and then we'll see what happens from there."

"So are you staying with her?" You asked not wanting to hear the answer.

"I can't think about that right now (Y/N). I need time to think, especially about last night." You weren't used to Donghyuck sounding so serious - it sadden you, but he was right...last night shouldn't have happened and now you were at a stand still on what to do about it. It was all your fault - and not just from last night but the night you broke up 5 months ago.

"Okay." You looked down. "I'll tell her the truth."

"Maybe not about last night - if that's okay - at least not yet....get the basic stuff out of the way first." You continued and got up and made your way to the door.

He got up as well following you. "Hey." He said his tone sounding nervous. "What you said last night - why the sudden change?"

"What do you mean?"

"About our breakup."

"The more I thought about it, I realized that I made a stupid mistake of not believing you. We were suppose to trust each other and I failed - you were the best boyfriend I ever had and I ruined it." You smiled trying not to tear up. "And I know it's too late but I just wanted you to know that."

He pursed his lips with a soft smile. This was a goodbye you didn't want but at least there was finally closure. "I guess I'll get going. You look like you need some sleep." You softly giggled.

"Pff yeah, I really didn't get much last night."

"Sorry."

"You should be." He said in his natural sarcastic tone that you missed dearly.

You reached for the door handle but you couldn't leave - you didn't want to. You turned around as you caught him glancing at the floor but then looked at you.

If this was goodbye, you wanted to do it right. You walked up to him bringing your lips towards his. You knew you shouldn't but one last time couldn't hurt. You didn't know what you were expecting but it definitely wasn't him responding back but you pulled away before it could grow intense. "Sorry....I wanted one more goodbye kiss."

As you pulled away, he brought you back in for more, caressing your face softly. His lips were a bit chapped but still felt soft and moist against yours. You moved him back until he sat down on his computer chair and you straddling his lap, wrapping your legs on both sides.

Why was this happening again and so soon?

You wished you had self control especially now the moment things were growing more intense. You moved your lips down his neck this time and you couldn't get enough. You still smelled his lingering cologne he was wearing last night driving you more insane.

You couldn't help but gyrate your hips along his, feeling every inch of him underneath you through his thin sweat pants. It wasn't taking him long to grow underneath.

You brought your lips back towards his as he held your hips to slow you down. Your desperation was showing again as you slid your hands down ready to take him all in. You pulled on his waistband ready to take him out until the door handled jiggled sending you both looking towards the door in panic and you quickly jumped off, sending yourself straight to the floor and under his desk to take cover.

Please don't be Minjeong.

As soon as the door opened Donghyuck stared closely as Mark made eye contact with him confused through the doorway. "Oh you're awake....I bought you coffee, but you're gonna have to go get your own food because you're picky as hell."

"Thanks." He pursed his lips trying not to be suspicious as he covered himself with his hands and moved the chair back towards his desk with you still underneath it.

You hoped your followers were ready for this situation because you were beyond scared shitless.

"So what time did you even get in last night." Mark asked collapsing on his bed.

"I don't know like 2-ish." He shrugged pretending to play with his computer.

He tried to adjust his sweats, still feeling uncomfortable. You wished before Mark was here, but now at this very moment not so much. You didn't know how you were gonna get out of this alive.

"I wanted to ask you, how was your double date?" He continued to ask.

"It was fine but -" He stumbled as soon as he felt you move your hands up his leg and over to his uncomfortable state.

"But what?" Mark grew confused.

"Oh- um - it just turned into a m-mess." You started to rub him on the outside of his sweats and he was already weak to your touch.

"Why?" He laughed.

"I think we all just had to much to drink." You couldn't help but smirk hearing how unstable he could get from a simple touch.

"How was (Y/N) when she found out about Jaemin? I told you that was a shitty move man."

You felt him getting harder by the second and you were trying hard to listen to the conversation unfold but the recent distraction was too tempting.

"Y-yeah -you we're right, that was stupid." You could hear his breathing pick up the moment you pulled him out and began your steady stroke.

Mark grew suspicious from his unexpected agreement. "You alright dude?"

"Yeah, just hungover." Donghyuck leaned forward resting on his palm.

"Oh." He nodded innocently. "So what happened then?"

"Oh, well- fu-" You put him in your mouth and was quick to suck him off. "umm- we just had a fight, what else is new." He leaned his head back taking you in.

"And Minjeong?"

"She danced with Jaemin."

"What?" Mark shook his head. "Did you guys swap dates....I'm so confused right now."

"So am I." He was on the borderline of moaning causing you to tap his knee as a warning for being so damn obvious. It wouldn't be your first time doing this for your ex-man so why was he being extra weak for you. Maybe it's been a while. "I mean like I said, we were drinking."

"Maybe you should go ask Jaemin.....he can handle his alcohol better." Donghyuck tried anything to get him to leave during this torture you were causing him.

"Yeah right." Mark laughed again. "He's the first one to get drunk."

"Ah huh." He laid his head back resting on the back of his chair as you continued licking and sucking up the side, and up his cherry red tip. You didn't know how long he was gonna last but you knew he was close.

"Haechan?" Mark asked more confused.

"Yeah?" He spoke still in a daze forgetting Mark was even in the room.

"Are you serious?" He said again and Donghyuck lifted his head obliviously. "Are you seriously getting head right now while I'm in here." He broke out of his daze and you couldn't help but gasp under the desk.

"N-no."

"Well, you're not masterbating since I can see your hands." Mark made a face of disgust. "Bro." He whined and got up making his way towards the door.

"I'll explain later?" Was all he said.

"Just let me know when you're done." Mark laughed shutting the door behind him.

You pushed his chair out so you could crawl out and finally stretch from being in the cramped space and leaned over him easier continuing where you left off. He finally let out a weak moan as you quickened your speed. "Fuck (Y/N)."

You smiled watching him drop his head back once again ready to spill at any moment. "Are you gonna cum for me baby?"

"Fff-." He moaned again and you lowered yourself more trying to take every inch of him as you bobbed your head up and down.

He placed his hand on the back of your head helping you go faster, driving him closer to the edge. You were beyond wet yourself and were already impatient wanting him to touch you back.

You finally felt him twitch and release inside. You managed to swallow most of the substance as the rest dripped down his shaft and onto his briefs.

He let out a deep breath, still coming down from his high before engaging in a conversation with you. "(Y/N), You can't just do that." He was still out of breath.

"Yeah no kidding, you usually last way longer than that." You teased as you wiped your mouth.

His face flushed red as his expression turned sour. "Don't worry, it's cute." You leaned forward bringing your lips towards his again in a soft kiss. "Did I ever tell you how hot you look in those glasses."

"(Y/N)-" You cut him off, bringing your lips back on his and lowered yourself on top once again. "We shouldn't do this again."

"But I want you." You grinded yourself against him again and he picked you up placing you on his bed, kissing down your neck as he towered over you. You grabbed his shirt, ready to take it off until his phone chimed giving him a message notification breaking you apart.

"Let me guess.....it's Minjeong." You tried not to sound disappointed.

He leaned over grabbing his phone and reading it that in fact, it was Minjeong. "Fuck, you need to go."

He was quick to get off you. "She's on her way here."

"Right now-" You started and your phone buzzed as well seeing her calling you. "Shit."

-"Hey." You answered and quickly waved to Donghyuck as you left his room. -"hey, where are you?" -"I decide to get breakfast for this horrible hangover so I'm on my way back now." -"oh really? I'm on my way there....did you want to hang out with me and Channie?" -"I'm sorry Min, I think I'm just gonna go home, my term paper is due tomorrow and I really need to get it done." -"okay, then I'll bring home dinner and we can watch movies tonight or something since Jimin will be out." -"okay sounds good." -"bye."

The lying never stopped.

You didn't know why but the tears immediately started flooding in. You were a horrible person you thought. If only you were honest from the beginning - none of this would be happening. But on the other hand - Donghyuck wouldn't be back in your life until his connection with Minjeong because you would have no other reason to see him. God, this was such a mess.

::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #55 You all were right - I'm still madly in love with D but now the question is.....if he still is too? But the other question is, what about my best friend? - it's clear she is head over heels for D and I can't tell her the truth now - what would she say? I came here to help others cope when I can't even cope myself.....I want him back. I need him back. :::

You shut the door behind you as you attempted to make a beeline to your room to get working on your term paper. At least you were being honest about that in this case, you were just about done with it.

"Hey." You heard a Jimin behind you before you can open your door. "You okay?"

"Yup." You said popping the p, trying to suck up your tears.

"Then why are you crying?"

You finally looked at her. "I'm not."

"(Y/N)?"

"I'm fine." You opened your door.

"This is about Donghyuck isn't it?" She started.

"Why would it be about Donghyuck?"

"I heard you guys last night." Your face went pale.

"We were just talking." You shrugged nonchalantly....maybe it wasn't what you thought.

She arched her eyebrows. "Really (Y/N)? Lucky Minjeong was passed out drunk because the whole floor probably heard you two." She shook her head. "Also you're covered in hickeys."

"What? What do you want me to say? It just happened." You snapped.

"This is what I was afraid would happen. You two are obviously still in love with each other so you guys need to clear this up."

"How? Minjeong is so happy with Hyuck.....this is gonna crush her."

"But sleeping together behind her back isn't worse? You just need to tell her who he really is or he needs to....this is getting way out of hand."

"It's bad enough that Minjeong knows you're hiding something."

"What do you mean?" You asked wiping your tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt.

"She knows you weren't in the cafeteria since I was just there and didn't see you.....I didn't mean to get involved but she asked me if you were there."

"Who said I wasn't." You walked passed her into the kitchen to grab a Red Bull.

"Because you weren't." Her tone sounding disappointed. "You can keep lying to Min, but please don't lie to me when I'm your only ally right now." She argued.

"Okay fine....I obviously went to talk to Hyuck about this whole thing." You sipped your drink.

"And?" She pressured you. "What did you guys discuss?" You could tell she was losing her patience with you.

"He doesn't know what to do either. He said to tell her the truth about our past relationship and go from there."

"Okay, so when will you tell her?"

"I was thinking tonight." You shrugged. "I know you were right about everything, and I never meant for this to happen but I'm still madly in love with him and I just don't know what to do."

"And you don't know what he wants?"

"I'm not sure." You leaned your elbows on the counter, combing your fingers through your hair.

"By the way, did you clean this counter?" She asked putting the dishes in the sink.

"Huh?" You looked up at your friend.

"Did you clean the counter after you two....?"

"Oh um...-" You pursed your lips clearly guilty.

She made a face of disgust. "That's disgusting. I used this, this morning." She grabbed a sponge.

"Sorry, I had a lot on my mind last night. He left upset and that's why I needed to talk to him this morning."

"So he regretted it then?" Jimin continued to ask.

"I don't even know by this point. I thought he did but then we....."

"What?"

"We fooled around again this morning."

"(Y/N).....this shouldn't be happening." She whined.

"I know. I just don't know what to do....I'm weak." You pouted.

"Okay, so maybe stay away from each other until you tell Min the truth and I'm sure he needs time as well to think about his feelings."

"Alright." You sighed. "Well, I got school work to do so I need to take my mind off this whole thing."

"Okay, well I'll be next door with Riri if you need me."

"Okay."

::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #55 "Romeo o Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo" for it is I, miss shall be lonely and distraught for the rest of my life.....Shakespeare isn't the only one on my mind. How am I even suppose to write a term paper when I'm dealing with this shit. What's the point of even writing this term paper when I'm going to hell anyway. Confronting my friend about this situation is the most scared I've ever felt in my entire life. How will she react? "So hey, your lovely new boyfriend is my ex and I'm still in love with him so.....please breakup so we can get back together." I'm sure that will fly.... Chill out guys I'm not gonna really say that "even though I want to" - sometimes you need to step aside and let the people you love be happy - even if it means you'll suffer. I've hurt enough people for a lifetime. xoxo peace. :::

"(Y/N)?" You opened your eyes seeing Minjeong carry your dinner she promised. "Hey, did you finish your term paper?"

You looked seeing your laptop open and fallen to the side. "Almost.....I must of fallen asleep." You yawned.

"Come on I have food." She made her way over to the kitchen and you sluggishly followed her.

"Thank you Min." You grabbed a few sodas from the fridge before placing them on the table.

"Sure....I figured we deserved a night in without any boys." She smiled.

"You have no idea." You laughed actually feeling relief.

"So what happened last night?" She asked pointing to your neck.

Oh no oh no oh no........

"Huh?" You grew speechless. How were you going to get out of this one?

"You got steamy last night? Don't tell me with Jaemin." She looked annoyed.

You were better than that to ever sleep with Jaemin again but in this particular moment - unfortunately this lie was better than the truth.

You just shrugged. "I'm sorry, I guess I just had a little too much to drink last night."

"(Y/N).....why would you go back to him."

"It wasn't my intention....I'm just vulnerable right now." You wanted to cry even more just lying about the situation.

"I wish I didn't drink so I could of stopped you."

"Yeah. There was a lot of mistakes that happened."

"And again I'm sorry - I had no clue Haechan was friends with him."

"Yeah that was a surprise huh?" You laughed trying to play it off.

"You don't think he's friends with your ex?" Why did she had to ask?

"Minjeong about that......I really need to talk to you about something-" You began. "You see my ex-"

You felt like you were shaking. "What about him?"

"He is-" You were cut off by a knock on the door. "Who's that?"

"I don't know." Minjeong walked to the door opening it and revealing no other than Donghyuck himself. "What are you doing here? I told you I'm having a girls night." She said with excitement.

"You forgot your bag at my place." He handed over the small purse.

"This isn't mine." Minjeong grew confused and immediately looked at you.

Your heart was beating faster than you ever felt as he held what happened to be your purse. "Isn't this yours (Y/N)?"

What the fuck now?

::: LoveAboveMyPinkClouds: blog post #55 You win some and you lose some.....and this my friends is definitely a loss. Everything was hitting the fan at once and I don't know what to do. You had to go over and "talk" to D about last night. You had to fool around again when you should've "talked". You had to leave your shit in his dorm confusing not only him but now your best friend. You are all invited to my funeral....goodnight :::

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