#hes gone but he still found a way to take care of them

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

Fractured Loyalties

pairing: bucky barnes(the winter soldier) x fem!ex-widow!reader

genre: angst/neutral

el's thoughts: okaaaaayyy i had a little too much free time today... this took me three hours and i'm exhausted but so proud of this!! it's prettyyy long compared to my last few fics, so enjoy!! please let me know your thoughts please please please!! tagging my few new bucky mutuals for feedback if you're willing! @lomlbuckybarnes @dollface-xoxo @probablybucky

bucky masterlist

They were never supposed to be anything more than weapons. 

HYDRA made sure of that.

Y/N and Bucky were forged in the same fire–HYDRA’s brutality, the Red Room’s merciless conditioning. Their pasts were written in blook and rewritten in pain. They weren’t meant to have choices, weren’t meant to be people. And yet, somewhere in the fractures of their broken minds, they had found each other.

She had been the only constant in the Winter Soldier’s shattered existence. Even when memories faded, when his mind was wiped clean of anything resembling a past, he remembered her. The whisper of her voice, the flash of steel in her hands, the way her presence lingered even after she was gone.

She was more than a mission partner. She was the only one who knew what it was like to wake up in a body that no longer felt like her own, to fight battles she never chose. They never spoke of it–not with words, at least. But in the quiet moments between assignments, when their handlers weren’t watching, when their guards were down, they understood each other in a way no one else could.

And yet, it was never enough to save them from what they became.

~

“You hesitate too much, James,” she spoke up. She was sitting across from him in the dimly lit barracks, wrapping a bandage around a fresh wound on her forearm.

Bucky watched the careful way she tied the knot, her fingers precise, methodical.

“Maybe you don’t hesitate enough,” he countered, leaning back against the cold metal wall.

She looked up then, her sharp gaze pinning him in place. “That’s why you keep getting punished. One day, they’re going to take the hesitation out of you.”

Bucky exhaled through his nose. “They’ve tried.”

She smirked slightly, but there was no real humor in it. “Not hard enough apparently.”

Silence stretched between them.

He had never said it aloud, but he knew it wasn’t hesitation that made him different. It was her. 

She was the only thing that made him remember he was still human.

And HYDRA didn’t want humanity. They wanted a weapon.

~

The first time Bucky sees her again, it’s through the scope of a sniper rifle.

He doesn’t pull the trigger.

He recognizes the way she moves—silent, calculated, a shadow slipping through the compound’s perimeter. Her face is different, a little sharper, a little harder, but it’s her. Y/N Y/L/N. The last person he expected to find standing between him and his mission.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, lowering the rifle.

She’s taking down guards with precision, a knife to the ribs, a twist of the wrist, a body crumpling without so much as a sound. Bucky has to remind himself to breathe.

Then she looks up.

Their eyes meet.

She stands frozen for a moment.

Something cold settles in his stomach.

And then she vanishes.

~

The screen flickers on causing Y/N to stand rigid, arms crossed tightly over her chest, eyes locked on the grainy surveillance footage of James restrained in the glass containment cell.

She can feel it before it even happens. A deep, gut-wrenching wrongness coiled inside her chest. She’s seen this before. She’s lived this before.

Then the interviewer starts speaking.

“Longing.”

Her stomach drops.

“Rusted. Seventeen.”

Y/N jerks forward, her pulse hammering. 

“No,” she breathes.

Steve stiffens beside her. “Y/N?”

She doesn’t answer. She can’t.

Because she knew James had been compromised again—becoming someone she couldn’t trust. Again. 

The moment his body was seen jerking violently against his restraints, Y/N was up and out of her seat.

“Y/N, wait–!” Steve calls after her, but she’s already bolting through the corridors, shoving past agents, and sprinting toward the containment room.

She knew what was coming.

And she knew she was already too late.

-

The alarms were blaring when she skids around the corner, but she barely registered the sound. The reinforced glass had shattered, the guards were down, and in the center of the wreckage stood him.

The Winter Soldier.

His movements are fluid and efficient. A calculated killing machine, taking out anyone in his path.

“James–”

He turned around at the sound of her voice. For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—something almost familiar. Something that nearly warms Y/N’s chest at the mere sight.

Then it’s gone.

He lunged at her before she had time to process.

Y/N barely dodges the first blow, twisting away as his metal arm flies past her face, crashing into the wall behind her, shattering the concrete as if it were paper.

She grits her teeth as she keeps her body low to the floor. “Guess we’re doing this the hard way.”

She counters fast, standing but quickly ducking under his next strike, driving a sharp elbow toward his ribs. He catches it effortlessly, twisting her arm behind her back. She hisses in pain but isn’t hesitant, slamming the back of her head into his face, catching his nose and lips.

It barely slows him.

“James, listen to me,” she pants, twisting out of his grip. “This isn’t supposed to be who you are.”

His response is a brutal kick to her side.

Y/N crashed into the ground but rolled onto her feet instantly, spinning around to throw a backheel kick aimed at his head. He blocks it with terrifying ease, grabbing her leg and throwing her across the room. 

She lands hard, gasping as the air is knocked from her lungs.

Dammit.

She blinks rapidly, forcing herself up. She’s fought him before—back when she was still under the Red Room’s control. Back when they were both nothing but weapons. She doesn’t hesitate.

With a running leap, she throws herself at him, wrapping her legs around his shoulder and neck in a desperate attempt to choke him out.

“Come on, James,” she growls, tightening her grip. Her elbows repeatedly aimed at the back of his head as she was hunched over him. “Snap the hell out of it.”

For a second, it almost worked. He staggers back, shaking his head like he’s trying to clear something. Y/N froze, still bracing herself against his head.

Then he slams her into the floor.

The impact rattles her skull. Her vision blurs. 

And before she can move, he’s on her—his metal fingers wrapping around her throat.

Her breath cuts off instantly.

Her hands claw at his wrist, but it’s like trying to move a mountain. Black spots dance in her vision.

She gasps, barely above a whisper—desperate, pleading.

“James… please.”

His grip didn’t loosen, and his stare didn’t let up. His blue eyes bore down into her eyes. Cold and unrecognizing.

Her chest burned. Her vision tunneled.

She’s losing.

A sharp blast of energy suddenly knocks The Winter Soldier backward. Y/N collapses into herself, coughing violently, sucking in air like it’s the only thing keeping her tethered to the world.

She blinks up—eyes wet, throat raw—to see Tony Stark standing in front of her, arm raised, repulsor glowing hot.

“Alright, Terminator,” Tony snapped. “How about you pick on someone your own size?”

The Winter Soldier’s jaw ticked, and he charged at him.

Y/N wheezed, clutching her throat. Every breath felt like fire, but she didn’t care.

She forced herself up.

Despite every bone in her body screaming at her to run away or at least end it all right then and there, she wasn’t going to leave him. 

Not this time.

Sure, she didn’t trust the Winter Soldier in the slightest—not even James at this moment— she couldn’t bring herself to leave him. If she was given a chance to redeem herself and clear her name, she would do everything she could to give him that chance. 

~

“You trust him?”

Y/N’s voice is razor-sharp as she leans against the wall of the safe house, arms crossed. Steve meets her gaze with an unshaken clam.

“After everything that just went down?”

“I do.”

She scoffs. “Then you’re more of a fool than I thought, Rogers.”

James watches from the side, silent. He doesn’t blame her for the anger coiled beneath her words and doesn’t expect her to trust him. He wouldn’t either. She had seen firsthand the things he did while in HYDRA.

“You’re still working against HYDRA,” Steve says, tilting his head slightly. “So is he.”

Her jaw tightens.

“We’re not on the same side,” she snaps.

Steve raises a brow. “Aren’t you?”

The silence stretches between them. 

Finally, Y/N exhales sharply. “If he slows us down, he’s dead.”

James shifts in his seat. “Trust me, Doll, I know.”

Her glare could set him on fire.

Steve sighs but doesn’t argue. He knows Y/N well enough by now to understand that trust isn’t given—it’s earned. And right now, Bucky’s running on a deficit.

Y/N pushes herself off the wall, rolling her shoulders like she’s shaking off the weight of old ghosts. “Fine,” she mutters. “He can stay.”

She steps closer to James, her presence crackling with tension. Her eyes scan him, calculating, measuring—looking for a weakness, a hesitation, anything that proves she’s right to doubt him.

James meets her gaze head-on. He won’t flinch. Not now.

“But if you even think about crossing me–” She leans in, her voice a dangerous whisper. “I’ll put a bullet between your eyes before you can even blink.”

James’ lips twitch, not quite a smirk, not quite anything at all. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

She scoffs, turning away. “Then let’s get this over with.”

As she strides toward the door, Steve exhales, rubbing a hand over his face before looking back to his friend. Bucky watches her go, the ghost of something unreadable in his expression. 

“She’s not wrong,” Bucky mutters, running a hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t trust me either.”

Steve exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “Then prove her wrong.”

Bucky nods, but the weight in his chest doesn’t lift. Because the truth is, no matter how much he wants to, no matter how much of himself he’s clawed back from the abyss—he’s still not sure he can.

[klausysworld]

Human Highschool Playboy Klaus x Virgin Reader

Reader has a crush, klaus is a player, she is in love he doesn’t care, they have sex (one night stand and he‘s gone in the morning) it’s her first time

Then later e.g: on a party she a little drunk

They talk she cries and tells him it was her first time

He feels guilty and takes care of her

Then they have sex and he’s extra soft

Love your work xoxo❤️

The Softness Within

High School was easy for Klaus Mikaelson. 

He could breeze through it with a smirk on his face and a bunch of guys patting him on the back as he made his way through the hall with another girl on his arm, always different from the week before. 

For Y/N it was a little more difficult.

People would shove past her, let her stumble into the nearby lockers or purposefully smack the top book from her hands to the floor, laughing as she just watched it slide down the halls that haunted her day after day. 

There was only really one thing that she looked forward to each day and that was seeing Klaus. 

She knew he probably didn’t even know who she was but he wasn’t cruel to her like other boys were. 

He didn’t shove her or tease her. A few times he’d even smiled at her.

It was rare for her to even bother showing up to a party, for some reason she had. Maybe because she actually liked the girl who was throwing it.

But for whatever reason that she was there, she ended up flush against the wall, music blaring as her mouth moved with Klaus’s desperately. 

His hands tugged at her dress roughly and she pulled back, a little anxiety in her eyes. 

Both Klaus’s hands cupped her face as he pulled her back into a kiss. 

“I want you.” He murmured to her, his voice so low that it made her fold almost instantly. 

They ended up at her house, Klaus pushing her down into the mattress as he groped roughly at her thighs. It was clear that his body was hungry for her, almost as starved as her heart was for him. 

The night wasn’t as blissful as she’d imagined it.

He was a little rougher than she’d have liked for her first time, it stung more than she’d been prepared for. Hurt.

Eventually the ache dulled and it started to feel better, she started to cling to him. 

Klaus’s fingers had slipped between her legs whilst his hips rutted to hers.

Her little moans fueled the heat between them until she couldn’t breathe. 

Time had somehow crawled and raced by all at once until sleep had taken them both.

When it came time to wake, Klaus must’ve done so long before her for the space where he’d been was already cold. 

There was no stopping the tears from slipping down her soft cheeks as she clutched her pillow between her hands. 

For the first time in a long time Y/N missed a couple days of school. 

Her body was exhausted, her heart humiliated.

Still, eventually she went back to school.

She ignored him in the hall, not that she thought he’d notice her anyways, and made sure not to sit anywhere near him in any classes. 

Y/N didn’t plan to go to any party ever again but one of her friends ended up dragging her to one, she was already reluctant so her friend decided not to tell her that it was at Klaus’s house. 

She only realised when she bumped into his older brother, he’d scoffed under his breath and muttered about having too many teenagers in his house. 

Y/N felt sick in an instant.

Which was how she ended up in his upstairs bathroom, too many people were fucking in the ones downstairs that she had to go to the third floor to be in a quiet room where she could freak out and be sick. 

That was how Klaus found her, sobbing over a toilet seat and trembling as the occasional gag shook her body.

“Y/N?” He questioned gently, kneeling down beside her and rubbing her back gently. “Did you drink too much, love? You didn’t take anything right?” He asked with a concerned frown. 

Her head shook as she moved back, her back resting against the edge of the bathtub, the coldness making her flinch as she sniffed. 

Klaus grabbed some tissue to wipe her mouth and settled in front of her.

His head tilted a little, trying to catch her eyes which were now glued to the floor as her eyes struggled not to let anymore tears fall.

“You need some water, sweetheart?” He asked and she wanted to just say no and walk out but her throat was sore from the crying and retching. He softened when she nodded and disappeared for a minute or two before coming back with a glass of ice cold water. 

His arm slipped round her shoulders with ease as he helped the glass into her hands and watched her drink it, mumbling encouragement. 

“I’m sorry,” She whimpered, her tears dripping into her water making him wince a little and pull the glass from her. “I didn’t know it was your house- I didn’t even wanna come.” She cried and he frowned, shushing her gently.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong, love? You don’t need to be sorry, I don’t mind you in my house.” He smiled, stroking her back gently. She sniffed and fell silent.

He probably didn’t even remember that they had slept together.

She was probably no good, utterly forgettable.

Klaus watched her expression sadden, a look of hopelessness. 

“You didn’t want to see me again.” He realised after a moment. His hand kept rubbing her back, trying to soothe her. “It’s okay, most girls get a little embarrassed after one-night stands. You usually avoid people for a while? That’s okay, I get it.” Klaus nodded, trying to be understanding but it made her cry harder.

“I don’t- I-” She sniffed and choked a little on her words. “I’ve never slept with someone before- I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

His entire face shifted at that.

“Oh.” He whispered, nodding slowly. 

The deep realisation that he’d taken Y/N’s virginity was one thing but remembering how he’d been that night, it was no wonder that she’d been avoiding him. 

“I’m so sorry, love.” He muttered, his arms circling her a little tighter to try to offer solace. “I should have… I should have…” His voice died off as he looked down at her, the stains across her cheeks and the redness in her face made his stomach twist.

“Did I hurt you, Y/N?” He murmured, frowning as he looked her over. The dress she was wearing this time covered her arms too, she didn’t want anybody to see her skin, to see her or touch her. Klaus. It was so Klaus didn’t want her. 

“The bruises are gone now.” She mumbled, using the tissue to wipe her eyes and her nose. “It didn’t hurt that much after a bit. I liked some of it, I just didn’t expect…I don’t know.” 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I would’ve been gentler if I’d known.” 

Klaus sighed to himself, ashamed.

“Come on, at least let me look after you know.” He helped her up and brought her to his room, kissing the top of her head and telling her to sit on her bed. 

“You can sleep here tonight, you’ve been drinking. I’ll get you some pajamas, okay?” He pet the top of her head gently.

Klaus couldn’t believe he’d left her room in the night, letting her wake up hurt and alone.

Didn’t even realise she hadn’t been in school until he really had to think about it.

She looked a little stiff when sitting in his bed, in his shirt and the plaid pajama pants he’d gotten at Christmas but never wore. Klaus smiled a little at the sight of her, he knew she wasn’t after the same thing the other girls in his bed had been. She was just upset, hurt and yearning.

Someone should have been looking after her and that night it should have been him so for tonight he’d make up for it.

Klaus got changed in his bathroom, for the first time since he was a kid he put on actual pajama pants, like the ones he gave Y/N, but after consideration decided against wearing a shirt too. 

When he stepped back into the room, she was settled under the covers, sniffling quietly.

The heat from his body mingled with hers as he climbed in behind her. His arms gently pulled her away from the edge of the bed and to his chest. She melted quickly, the firmness of his chest felt protective. Klaus helped her roll to face him, guided her face to his bare chest. 

“Let me look after you, love.” He murmured, his fingers massaging her head slowly.

“How?” She mumbled sleepily and his lips twitched up. 

His head dipped to taste her lips, but this time she pulled away. Klaus nuzzled into her ear gently. 

“I want to make you feel good. Let me show you what I should have last time.” He pleaded with her, his hands stroking her back and his arms. Her head nodded subtly and he pressed his lips to hers again, this time being able to savour the feel of her.

So soft and warm.

Klaus rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him with her legs either side of him. His hi;s gently rolled against hers, his hands held onto her waist and rubbed her back slowly.

“You’re so sweet, love.” He muttered to her, pulling his lips from hers and kissing down along her neck and gently sucking to find the spot that made her squirm. 

“There it is.” He mumbled when her breath got all cough in her throat and her body pushed back against his. Klaus grazed his teeth over the spot, leaving a dark mark in her skin whilst his hips ground up with a little more need. 

The quiet little half sounds she was making weren’t enough for him, he needed her to feel what she deserved.

So he trailed his mouth down, his hands lifting the shirt to reveal the beauty beneath. She was rolled back onto her back, him hovering over her. Both his hands followed the shape of her hips up to her breasts. His thumbs circled her nipples whilst she panted and whined. Her face blushed red and her hands shook as she tried to push his hands down.

“It’s alright love. Just feel it.” He murmured as he gently pinched her, chuckling softly at the way her body arched. “Such a good girl.” He praised, smiling when her pussy rubbed up against him through their clothes in response. 

The heat from his mouth on her stomach made her fingers tangle into his curls, following his movements as his head lowered down. 

He could hear how fast she was breathing, nervous probably.

Still he tugged the pants back down her legs so he could settle between her thighs. He eyed her core as he kissed along her inner thighs gently, gradually getting rougher and sucking red marks. 

A moan of desperation left her when his tongue delved to taste the sweet wetness that had gathered. His mouth nuzzled in, his eyes closing as he teased her clit, his tongue nudging over the hood to encourage her to swell. 

“Klaus..” She whimpered, her thighs already shaky. He hummed softly, the vibrations making her squeal and tug on his hair. “I can’t-” She gasped but Klaus only grinned into her as he circled her puffy little bud.

“You’re such a good girl, should’ve done this last time. Just got too desperate to feel you on me.” he mumbled as he lifted his hand to tease her entrance with his forefinger. A loud moan left her when he curled it inside her and he groaned, his other hand going down to slide beneath his pants and soothe himself. 

“Ah…” She cried as he grunted into her clit, his lips still sucking her in as he stroked himself teasingly. 

Klaus slipped his tongue down to taste as she fell apart, her cum like heaven in his mouth as he squeezed himself. 

His body shifted up, mouth leaving a litter of wet marks up her legs as he knelt between them. “So beautiful.” He mumbled, looking down at how her skin glistened as she panted. “I’m gonna take you slower this time, okay?” He nodded to himself, crawling over her.

“W-wait…” She whispered, her skin still flushed and her features anxious.

He looked down at her, a look of understanding in his gaze as he leant down to kiss her cheek. 

“It’s okay.” He assured quietly, nuzzling into her jaw. After a moment of listening to her breathing and resting his head down against hers, he felt her nod against him.

“I’m ready now.” She uttered and he nodded back before kissing her lips. 

Her body was a little tense as he pushed into her, slowly edging himself in. Klaus needed to keep reminding himself that he needed to take his time for her.

His hips rolled so steadily, giving her time once he rested inside her. 

“Are you comfortable, love?” He asked and she nodded, her hands shaky as she reached up to hold onto his back. Her hands lay flat against his shoulder blades, feeling the strength he possessed as they flexed beneath her touch. “I’m gonna move now” He whispered, his brows furrowing as her nails pressed into his skin. Her body fluttered around as he drew his hips back and then forward again. 

The whimper that left her made him groan, his hands slid to her hips, trying to pull her closer so he could get as deep into her as possible. “You feel so good.” He mumbled, “You felt good last time, I should have told you. Should’ve worshipped you-” 

His words were abruptly cut off as he moaned.

Klaus’s head fell down as her whines filled the room whilst her hips rutted up against his. “I need” She whimpered and he grunted softly.

“I know, sweetheart. Bloody hell you’re desperate.” He groaned faintly and bucked into her. His mouth left a stretch of wetness across her skin, encouraging a pattern of goosebumps whilst her body twitched and tightened with his. 

The faint thump of the music merged with the knock of his bed frame against the wall.

Her sounds stroked something inside him, drove him.

Klaus’s head went back, a pant leaving him as he clung to her. 

His head nuzzled down against the side of her neck when she clamped down around his cock, effectively bringing him over the edge with her and milking him with every last pump of his hips. 

The warmth of her skin stuck to his as she held onto him, he could feel her sweet face damp with tears as he tilted to kiss her forehead. “I’ve got you, love.” He murmured quietly against her hair. “Gonna look after you” He mumbled as he gently pulled out of her and carried her over to his bathroom, flicking his shower on. He kept her in his arms, he could feel her tense as if she thought he might drop her but he knew well enough how strong he was.

Her head rested against the side of his, soft sounds leaving her as his hands cleaned her gently. “Such a good girl.” He mumbled with a small smile. “Relax against me.” 

Y/N obeyed with ease, her body exhausted and her heart craving.

The softness he used on her as he dried her off and changed her back into clothes, laid her out in clean blankets and held her in his lap.

“Gonna be here when you wake up okay?” He whispered, cupping her cheek. “Goodnight my love.”

From that day things were different.

Klaus would throw his arm over her shoulders in the hall, his buddies knew not to go shoving her unless they wanted at least one black eye and Y/N felt a whole lot more confident in being herself. She felt safe knowing Klaus was there and that he chose to be there. That he could be gentle even if he sometimes seemed a little rough around the edges.

[plethorawrites]

I'm back to my once in a blue moon Roy post. And again, I can't stop thinking about how any person he dated HAS to be approved by Lian.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

It doesn't matter how much Roy Harper likes you or how perfect he thinks you are, if Lian doesn't like one of his partners, he'll break up with that person the next day.

He obviously waits a while to see if he even likes you enough to introduce you to her, but once he makes that decision, it's nerve wracking. He wants her to approve. He really does. And you want her too as well. He drones on about her constantly. Basically the entire first date was him relating every question you asked him back to her somehow.

Favorite place to go? The zoo, because Lian loves it. Favorite food? Grilled cheese, because he makes it for her so much he got hooked. Favorite color? It changes when hers does because everything she owns switches shades too. But he's partial to the color closest to her eyes.

And you're just as excited and nervous to meet her, knowing exactly how important she is to him. Lian is a good judge of character, she can know instantly if someone is wrong for her dad and she doesn't want them around him.

With you, it's the same as all the others. She's standoffish, curious but hesitant, asking you questions that only seem to have bad answers the way all kids somehow manage to do. And you're panicking, admittedly, not only at the questions, but at seeing Roy slowly deflate when he realizes how judgmental his daughter is.

At some point he excuses himself from the room for a moment, either to take a call, or try to take a breath because he's suddenly thinking about ending the relationship. But the second he walks away and both you and Lian can see the disappointment in posture, you both soften. Mostly her.

"...He works a lot," she told you, almost like a deterrent.

You nodded softly. "I know."

There was a pause, her princess crown falling a little bit. "Things with mom didn't end well," she mumbled.

You fixed her crown. "I know that, too." Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear you scooted closer to her on the couch. "I don't want to replace your mom, Lian. I just...want to love your dad."

She looked up at you. No one he brought home ever said the L word before. Not unless it was in some patronizing way as they talked about her while squishing her cheeks.

Her lips quirked, fighting a pout. "He's always busy," she repeated with emphasis. "I don't even see him for a week or two." She knew why, of course, and never blamed him. It still hurt.

Things suddenly clicked for you, realizing Lian was less worried about you, and more worried about you stealing her time with him.

"Well...maybe when he's gone, you and I could go somewhere? Do you like the aquarium?" You suggested hesitantly, watching her furrow her brows in skepticism as she nodded. "And maybe when he's back, we could all do something too, like a movie..." She seemed to relax a little, still pouting. "I'm not trying to steal him from you. You're the most important thing in his life, you know? You'll always come first."

...

A while later, Roy had all but prepared his typical break up speech, planning to tell you he liked you a lot but needed to take care of Lian and her needs first before focusing on himself. It hurt more this time, though, rehearsing it, than it usually did.

He walked back into the living room, freezing when he saw you braiding Lian's hair, a blanket pulled over her lap as she clicked the buttons on a remote.

"Oh, there you are," you said, glancing up. "We were going to watch 'Brave', do you want to join us?"

He blinked a few times, glancing at his daughter to ensure she wasn't just pretending. Then again, she never went along with anything she didn't actually want to do.

Roy nodded slightly, sitting next to Lian, squishing her in-between you two as she found the movie on the TV.

"You should make us popcorn," she practically demanded, starting the movie and glancing back at you as you finished her hair. "He makes really good popcorn."

You nodded curiously, giving her a small smile. "You ever tried it with M&M's in it before?"

Her eyes widened, head snapping towards her dad as if already asking for it. "O-okay, yeah, I'll check if we have any," he muttered, standing up, sparing a glance over his shoulder as he saw you pulling a blanket over Lian's lap while she passed her favorite princess crown to you.

It seemed she did approve, this time.

[luvfae]

BAD INVESTMENT

PART FIFTEEN

summary: thanos never planned to fall for you. this was supposed to be a game, a way to ruin myung-gi—but when you show up at his door, tear-streaked and trembling, everything changes. he sees the welt on your cheek, hears the way your voice shakes, and something inside him snaps. revenge doesn’t matter anymore. only you do.

parings: thanos/choi su bong x reader, lee myung gi x reader

warnings: mention of dv, swearing, cheating

bad investment masterlist

Thanos was losing his mind.

Pacing his apartment, running a hand through his hair, exhaling sharp, frustrated breaths. He felt like he was spiraling, like he had no fucking control over himself, and he hated it.

This was supposed to be about revenge. That’s it. So why the fuck hadn’t he gone through with it yet?

Why did it feel like he had something to lose?

Thanos had never cared about a girl before. Ever. He didn’t do relationships. He didn’t chase. He didn’t fucking beg. He was the guy who played with his food, who led girls on for fun, then threw them away the second he got bored.

And yet here he was.

Chasing you.

Begging you to leave your boyfriend.

No. No. Something was severely fucking wrong here.

The sex was good. Great, even. But great sex had never turned him into a goddamn idiot before.

That’s it. Next time he saw you, he was getting his damn video, sending it to Myung-Gi, and being done with this whole mess. With MG Coin. With you.

That’s when he heard it.

A knock at his door.

And he just knew.

Something in his chest twisted.

Finally. Finally, he could put an end to this.

God, he was going to miss that tight little body of yours.

But when he swung open the door—

All that resolve went straight to hell.

Because there you were.

Tear-streaked face. Red, swollen eyes. Body trembling.

And a welt on your cheek.

Thanos didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed you, dragged you inside, slamming the door behind you.

“What happened?” His voice was dark. Low. Dangerous.

His hands found your face, cupping your cheek, his thumbs brushing over the raw mark on your skin like he could erase it.

A fresh wave of tears spilled down your cheeks.

“I tried to end it,” you whispered.

Thanos’ jaw ticked.

“He said he’d kill himself,” your voice broke. “And then he—” You choked on a sob. “He fucking slapped me.”

A muscle in Thanos’ jaw twitched.

Thanos was silent.

Too silent.

His hands were still cradling your face, thumbs ghosting over the heat blooming on your cheek. He could feel how swollen it was, could see the faint outline of Myung-Gi’s fucking hand imprinted on your skin, and it was taking everything in him not to storm out of this apartment and find the bastard.

His jaw was clenched so tight it ached.

“He hit you?” His voice was low, dangerous.

You swallowed hard and nodded, wiping at your face with shaky hands. “I told you… I tried to break up with him.”

Thanos inhaled deeply through his nose. “And he hit you for that?”

“He said he’d kill himself,” you whispered. “And when I didn’t fold, he—” Your voice cracked, fresh tears spilling over your lashes. “He slapped me.”

A muscle in Thanos’ jaw jumped.

“Where is he now?” His voice was eerily calm.

You shook your head, gripping the front of his hoodie. “No.”

“No?” His fingers curled under your chin, tilting your head back. “Baby, I don’t think you understand. I’m going to kill him.”

Your breath hitched. “Thanos, please—”

“You think I’m gonna sit here and do nothing? After he fucking put his hands on you?”

You blinked up at him, shaking. “I didn’t come here for that.”

His brows pulled together. “Then why’d you come here?”

You exhaled shakily. “Because I didn’t know where else to go.”

Thanos was still tense, still itching to break something, but at your words, something in him shifted.

You came to him.

Not a friend. Not your parents. Him.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, tilting your face side to side, inspecting the damage. His grip was firm but careful, like he thought you might break if he wasn’t.

Then, without another word, he stepped away from you and disappeared into the kitchen.

You stood there, confused, until he came back with an ice pack, pressing it against your cheek. The cold made you wince, and he tsked.

“Hold that,” he muttered.

You did.

Thanos crouched in front of you, pulling your shoes off without a word. Then he stood, took your hand, and led you toward the bathroom.

“Thanos…”

“Shut up,” he muttered, turning on the faucet.

He wet a cloth and started dabbing at your face, wiping away your smeared mascara, your tears. You just stood there, letting him.

He’d never done this before. Never taken care of you.

But right now, Thanos was doing everything he could to make sure you were okay—something Myung-Gi never fucking did.

Your lip trembled. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

His hands stilled.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

You searched his face. “Are you—are you just pitying me?”

His gaze snapped to yours, sharp. “Don’t be stupid.”

You swallowed. “Then what is it?”

Thanos stared at you.

He didn’t know how to answer that.

Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

This was never supposed to happen.

It was supposed to be a game, revenge, a sick little thrill. But now he was looking at you—really looking at you, your tear-streaked face, the vulnerability in your eyes, the way you were clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you standing—and he felt like something inside him was breaking.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck.

He was in love with you.

The realization hit him so hard it almost knocked the air out of his lungs.

Fuck.

Thanos wasn’t good at this. Wasn’t built for this.

He didn’t do love. He didn’t do relationships.

But somehow, somewhere between fucking you in secret and sneaking around and telling you to leave Myung-Gi, he’d fucking fallen for you.

And now?

Now you were standing here, looking at him like he was the only person in the world who could keep you safe.

His chest ached.

Thanos exhaled sharply and dropped the cloth into the sink.

Then, before he could stop himself, he cupped your face and kissed you.

It wasn’t rough, wasn’t desperate—it was slow, gentle, reverent.

Like he wanted to memorize the shape of your lips, the taste of you.

You melted into him, fingers curling into his hoodie.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

“You’re staying here tonight,” he murmured.

You didn’t argue.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, neither of you thought about Myung-Gi.

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Your Secret is Safe with me... With US....

Doohan Sister Reader F1 Driver Reader Cadillac Formula 1 Reader

Returning to the track the next day felt like a chore, each step heavier than the last. Today wasn’t about the race—it was about honoring my uncle in the only way I knew how.

A long time ago, he had given me a custom pin chain designed for the collar of a suit—something sleek, something personal. Silver, with two outstretched wings as the pins. I had never worn it at a race before, but today, it felt right.

So I dressed accordingly.

A black button-up shirt, the collar adorned with the silver chain and its delicate wing pins. Over it, a baggy leather jacket, only half-buttoned to let the chain glint under the paddock lights. Straight-legged black pants completed the look, along with my usual Nike high-tops—one of the few constants in my life.

I walked into the paddock in silence, the hum of conversation and laughter faltering as I passed. The atmosphere of this track was bright, electric, filled with vibrant colors from drivers wearing bold outfits to match the energy of the weekend. And then there was me—dressed in something more fitting for a funeral.

The moment the media caught sight of me, the chaos erupted. Cameras snapped in my direction, the clicking and flashing intensifying with every step. I didn’t flinch, didn’t stop. Normally, I would have. Normally, I would have given them something, even if just a glance. But not today.

I could already see the headlines forming in their heads. They would twist this against me, paint me as distant, unapproachable, brooding. But I couldn’t bring myself to care. Not today.

Interacting with fans and media would only make it worse. I didn’t trust myself to keep up the act—to hide the weight pressing against my ribs, the ache sitting heavy in my throat.

By the time I reached the Cadillac garage, the usual hum of chatter inside had quieted. Mechanics and engineers paused mid-task, eyes flickering to me before quickly looking away. The concern was evident, but I ignored it, making a beeline for the one person I trusted most here.

Nico was waiting for me in my usual corner of the garage. The moment our eyes met, he gave me a sad smile, understanding without needing to ask.

"Hey, Ghost," he said gently. "I know today’s gonna be tough. Do you need anything from me?"

I nodded, my voice carefully neutral. I had been fighting the burn in my chest all day—I wouldn’t let it consume me here. Not now.

"Yeah. If you can find a way to minimize my media duties after the race, that would be great. I can do them, but… I don’t know how long I’ll last before I break."

Nico didn’t hesitate. "I’ll see what I can do, bud." He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, a silent promise. "For now, take whatever time you need before the drivers’ parade."

I gave him a curt nod before turning on my heel. I could have gone to my driver’s room, locked myself away from the world. But something about the heat of the sun pressing against my black clothing felt grounding.

So instead, I walked.

Down the pit lane, where the media weren’t allowed, where I could breathe without feeling the weight of a hundred lenses on my back.

At least for a moment.

When it was time for the drivers' parade, I stayed in the back of the room, away from where the others had gathered. The air buzzed with conversation, laughter, and the usual pre-race energy, but I remained silent, still.

Any other day, I might have felt a pang of hurt at how easily silence made me invisible. How quickly I could fade into the background when I wasn’t cracking a joke or joining in on the pre-race banter.

But today, I was grateful for it.

Grateful to be overlooked.

At least, until I wasn’t.

Two sets of eyes found me, locking onto me like twin beacons through the haze of chatter.

I didn’t need to see their faces to know who they belonged to.

Both boys peeled away from their own groups without a word, their movements quiet but deliberate. When they reached me, stopping just two feet away, the energy between us shifted.

Their expressions, once lighthearted and carefree, had darkened—concern replacing whatever pre-race excitement had been there moments before.

Neither of them spoke right away.

They just stood there, looking between me and each other, waiting.

Waiting for me to let them in.

Oscar looked like he wanted to say something, but the moment was cut short. The call to head onto the trailer came, and like a machine set on autopilot, I fell into line with the other drivers.

I barely noticed that Lando and Oscar had taken up position on either side of me until Lando nudged my arm lightly.

“Alright, Ghost,” he said, his voice casual but playful, “I know you’re not much of a talker, but this is ridiculous. You’re usually at least pretending to enjoy this part.”

I blinked, forcing myself to focus as the three of us stepped onto the trailer.

Oscar leaned in slightly. “I was gonna say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this quiet. Are you conserving energy or just silently plotting something?”

Lando gasped dramatically. “Oh no, don’t tell me you’ve finally given in to your dark side. You’re planning world domination, aren’t you?”

I let out a slow breath, pressing my lips together to keep from smiling.

“Damn, he’s not denying it,” Oscar said, eyes widening in mock horror. “It’s over for us.”

Lando placed a hand over his chest. “We had a good run, mate. At least we’ll go out knowing we were kind of the fastest here.”

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head slightly. They weren’t being pushy, weren’t demanding answers—they were just being themselves, trying to pull me back into reality.

“I hate to break it to you,” I said, voice quiet but even, “but if I wanted world domination, you two wouldn’t be my first recruits.”

Lando gasped again. “I’m offended. We’d make an excellent evil trio.”

Oscar crossed his arms. “Yeah, you’d need at least one of us for planning and the other for distracting.”

I huffed a small laugh despite myself.

Lando grinned like he had just won something. “There he is.”

Oscar nudged me lightly with his elbow. “Alright, now that we’ve got you talking, tell us—what’s with the dark-esk outfit? Did you finally snap and we are seeing a revenge arc?”

I stiffened for half a second before forcing myself to relax, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. “Not really.”

Oscar and Lando exchanged glances, sensing something but wisely not pushing further.

“Noted,” Oscar said, shifting the topic. “Well, just so you know, Lando here has already almost fallen off one of these things before. So if he suddenly disappears mid-parade, don’t be alarmed.”

“Hey,” Lando protested. “That was one time.”

Oscar smirked. “One time that we know of.”

This time, I didn’t have to hold back the laugh. It was small, barely there, but real.

And for a moment, just a moment, the weight pressing down on my chest felt a little lighter.

By the time the parade had ended, just about every rookie had taken a moment to try and lift my spirits. They offered small jokes, lighthearted banter, and reassuring pats on the back, all assuming that the brutal criticism and the weight of the weekend had worn me down. But none of them—none—truly knew the ache my heart was trying to mend, only for it to tear open again with every quiet second I was left alone with my thoughts.

The only one who didn’t come near me was Jack. And maybe that was for the best.

How was I supposed to look him in the eye, knowing that the same grief that had shattered me was clawing at him, too? How could I lie to him, pretend I was upset from media critics, when we were both drowning in the same loss?

I couldn’t. I knew that.

So the moment the trailer came to a stop, I was the first to step off, weaving through the bustling paddock with only one thought in mind—get back to my driver’s room before the walls I had barely managed to keep standing finally collapsed.

The second I shut the door behind me, my chest caved, and I sucked in the first deep breath I had taken all day. It was shaky, unsteady, as if my lungs themselves rejected the idea of calm. But I needed to regain control. I needed to silence the storm in my head. I needed to go numb before the race.

I pulled out my phone, scrolling mindlessly through my playlists before my fingers hesitated over one I hadn’t touched in years. Indycar Rage+Ruin.

I pressed play.

The soft strum of a guitar hummed through the speakers, and immediately, my throat tightened. My uncle and I had made this playlist together during my first year in IndyCar. It had been our escape, the one thing that always seemed to drown out the noise of the world. He had built my music taste, shaped the songs I clung to in my hardest moments. This playlist, though—it was filled with his recommendations. Every song carefully chosen, meant to guide me through anger and exhaustion, to remind me of my worth when the world told me otherwise.

Back then, when I was ridiculed for being too young, too inexperienced, too different, he sat me down, placed an earbud in my hand, and said, "Let the music turn their doubt into your fuel. Show them what I already know you can do."

Tears burned in my eyes as the memories swelled, raw and vivid. His voice. His laugh. The way he always believed in me when no one else did.

I pulled off my helmet, my hands trembling as I changed into my fireproofs. But when I picked my helmet back up, my breath hitched.

It was another piece of him.

I ran my fingers over the design, tracing the lines and colors that hadn’t existed until he convinced me to take a risk. I had wanted to keep my old one—stick with something familiar. But he had pushed me to evolve. To make it mine. To leave the past in the past, to move towards my future, to the day I finally showed my truth to the whole world. 

So I had. Every stroke, every detail, had come from his suggestions.

I swallowed the sob creeping up my throat, forcing my emotions into the deepest corner of my mind. I couldn’t break here. Not now.

I wiped the last of my tears away, pulling my balaclava over my face and securing my helmet in place.

This is for you.

And with that, I stepped out, ready to race.

—

Lap 26.

P8.

I should be fighting. I should be pushing harder, clawing my way back up the field. But all I could do was exist in the seat, my body moving through the motions like a machine while my mind drifted elsewhere.

The world outside my cockpit blurred into streaks of color—flashes of the crowd, pit boards, and curbs passing by without meaning. The radio crackled in my ear with strategy calls, updates on gaps and tire wear, but they barely registered.

Numb.

That’s all I felt.

The weight of grief had settled into my bones, anchoring me to a darkness I couldn’t shake. Every turn, every straight, every second that passed only reminded me of the gaping hole in my chest.

My uncle should have been here.

He should have been watching from the garage, pacing back and forth with that nervous excitement he always had whenever I raced. He should have been waiting for me at the end of this, ready to pull me into one of his crushing hugs and tell me exactly what I did right, no matter the result.

But he wasn’t.

He never would be again.

I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening on the wheel. The ache inside me grew stronger, heavier, suffocating.

Then, without warning—

"You know why people look for flaws in you?"

A voice.

His voice.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. It was as if he was right there beside me, speaking through the static of my own thoughts, cutting through the numbness with words I had heard before.

"It’s because they see something in you that terrifies them. You’re not just another driver. You’re proof that the future doesn’t belong to the same old faces they’re used to. You prove them wrong every damn time you put your hands on that wheel."

I sucked in a sharp breath, my vision focusing again on the track ahead.

"They will always find something to pick apart. They will say you’re too young, too reckless, too emotional. But that’s just what people do when they can’t deny talent anymore. When they know that talent is going to change everything."

A lump rose in my throat.

"I know you, kid. I know you better than anyone. You’re strong, you’re relentless, and you are more talented than you even realize. I can’t have kids, but from the moment I put you back in that kart and saw that fire in your eyes, I knew—I didn’t need to. You were mine. You are mine. My kid, my racer, my pride."

Tears welled up, blurring my vision for a split second before I blinked them away.

"I love you like a father loves his daughter, and I will always, always be with you. My sister has no idea the daughter she lost that day, but I know the one I gained. So show me, kid. Show me just how amazing of a daughter I got."

The numbness cracked.

Then shattered.

A fire erupted inside my chest, spreading through every inch of my body. My grip on the wheel tightened—not from despair, but from purpose. My uncle’s words weren’t just a memory; they were fuel, reigniting the part of me that had been drowning all day.

I would not let this race slip away.

I would not let grief steal this from me.

I would honor him the only way I knew how—by fighting with everything I had.

"Let’s go hunting." I growled into the radio.

The response was instant. I could almost hear the sudden excitement in Diego’s voice.

"Copy, let’s get it."

Lap 27.

I launched into attack mode.

The first victim—P7. I lined up the move through Turn 3, positioning myself perfectly for the switchback out of Turn 4. Late on the throttle, I powered past, slicing ahead just before the braking zone into Turn 5.

One down.

Lap 30.

P6 was trickier. They defended hard, forcing me to back off twice. But they were draining their tires with every aggressive move, and I was patient. Into Turn 12, I dummied left before diving right, catching them off guard. My front wing edged past their rear tire—just enough. I held my breath, committed, and sent it.

They locked up. I didn’t.

P6 was mine.

Lap 34.

P5 and P4 were in a battle ahead, slowing each other down. I used it. A perfect slipstream down the main straight, and with DRS wide open, I took them both into Turn 1 in a double overtake that had my heart hammering inside my chest.

Lap 39.

P3.

Only two cars stood between me and the top step of the podium. My tires were screaming, my body was running on adrenaline alone, but I refused to lift.

Lap 42.

P2.

A lunge down the inside of Turn 10. No hesitation. No second thoughts. It stuck.

Final lap.

The leader was just ahead, but I was closing. DRS on the back straight. Slipstream. My pulse thundered in my ears.

Turn 14—late braking. Aggressive entry. I forced them wide.

Turn 15—I pulled ahead.

Final corner.

I could see the finish line.

This is for you.

I floored it.

The checkered flag waved.

I crossed the line.

P1.

I won.

A cheer ripped from my throat as I screamed into the radio. The team’s voices roared back at me, their cheers barely audible over the pounding of my heartbeat.

I slowed the car, my hands shaking, my breath coming in uneven gasps as reality crashed into me. Unbeknownst to me, My sobs being played over the live broadcast, something that could come back to bite me in the ass. But I no longer would care. 

I had done it.

I had honored him.

Slowly, I rolled to a stop in parc fermé, the engine ticking as it cooled behind me. My chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, my hands still gripping the wheel as my body trembled with adrenaline, exhaustion, and something much deeper—something far heavier.

I had won.

But he wasn’t here to see it.

The roar of the crowd echoed around me, but it felt distant, almost muffled. Right now, the visor had become my barrier from showing the emotions racking my mind. That barrier felt like the only thing holding me together.

With slow, deliberate movements, I unstrapped my belts and climbed out of the car. The moment my feet hit the Halo, I stayed there, standing tall atop my machine.

Then, I placed my hand over my heart.

And I pointed to the sky.

My head stayed bowed, my gaze locked onto the carbon fiber beneath me. It wasn’t a grand gesture, it wasn't a show for the cameras or the fans—it was just for him. A silent message. A promise.

This win is yours, too.

The moment passed, and I finally stepped down from the car. The second my feet hit the ground, I turned toward the barrier, toward my team waiting on the other side.

They were already there, arms outstretched, shouting my name.

I barely made it two steps away before they pulled me in, wrapping me in a massive hug, their cheers filling the air around me. The warmth of their embrace, their unfiltered joy—it should have grounded me, should have held me together.

But as I let myself sink into them, the weight of everything crashed down all at once.

My breath hitched. My chest tightened.

I wasn’t ready to break here. Not in front of them.

Slipping away from the group, I ducked my head and moved quickly, weaving through the celebration before anyone could notice. I needed a moment. Just one.

By the time I reached my driver’s room, I barely had the door closed before my legs gave out. I sank onto the small couch, my hands trembling as I ripped off my gloves, pulled off the helmet and balaclava before I pressed my palms over my face.

A shuddering breath. Then another.

And then, finally, the dam broke.

Silent sobs wracked through me, my body shaking from the force of them. The grief, the joy, the pain—all of it collided in a way that stole the air from my lungs.

I had won.

I had done exactly what he always believed I could do.

But it would never be enough to bring him back.

And God, how I wished he was here.

Suddenly, I heard yelling from outside my door.

"You can’t go in yet!"

The warning reached my ears too late.

The door swung open before I could react—before I could pull my helmet back on, before I could even turn away.

Three pairs of eyes locked onto my tear filled ones.

Fuck.

Instinct took over. More voices echoed down the hall, growing closer. I didn’t think—I just moved.

Grabbing all three of them, I yanked them inside and slammed the door shut, twisting the lock into place.

Silence.

Only the sound of my own breathing filled the room, ragged and uneven. My heart pounded as reality sank in.

The gig was up.

There was no covering this up, no half-baked excuse that would save me now. They had seen me. Really seen me.

I dropped my head against the door with a quiet thud, the dull ache grounding me in the moment. A long sigh escaped me.

Shit.

I finally turned around, bracing myself.

Lando and Oscar were still frozen, their faces caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. Lando’s mouth hung slightly open, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Oscar just blinked, like his brain was still buffering.

But Franco—he looked different. His expression wasn’t one of shock, but something else. Guilt.

That’s when the dots connected.

Franco had been acting differently ever since the day my uncle passed. Ever since the moment I broke down in Nico’s arms. But… the door had been shut, right? No. It hadn’t. He must have seen me.

My breath hitched as I locked eyes with him, and in that instant, I knew. He didn’t say a word, but his gaze told me everything. He had known—maybe not the full truth, but enough to suspect. Enough to treat me differently ever since.

“This whole time…”

Lando’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts, calm but laced with something unreadable. My head snapped toward him, bracing for the inevitable backlash, the betrayal, the anger. But it never came.

Instead, the shock on his face melted into something else—wonder, maybe even admiration. Beside him, Oscar’s expression shifted in the same way, the disbelief settling but not turning to resentment.

“You’re actually a girl?” Oscar blurted, blinking rapidly. “This whole time we’ve been calling you a dude?”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, a small smile tugging at my lips. I nodded.

Lando let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Well, I guess the voice changer actually makes sense now. I thought maybe you were just embarrassed about your voice or something stupid like that.”

Oscar grinned. “Yeah, I figured it was just part of the whole mysterious Ghost persona thing. But damn—this is next level.”

Their easy acceptance caught me off guard. I had prepared for anger, disappointment, maybe even disgust. But this? This felt… light.

“I honestly wasn’t expecting this reaction,” I admitted, my voice softer than before. “I thought there’d be a lot more anger. Or, I don’t know… disgust.”

That wiped the smiles off their faces instantly.

“What? No!” Lando exclaimed, his brows furrowing.

“Why would we think that?” Oscar asked, genuine confusion in his tone.

I hesitated before answering. “Because I’m a girl. Or maybe because I chose to hide my identity instead of fighting my way into the sport the ‘right’ way.”

Lando let out a short chuckle, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Right way? What even is the right way? Every girl in motorsport has to jump through hoops just to get a fraction of the chances we get.” His gaze softened. “If anything, you found the only real way to prove the facts over the ideals—you proved you belonged before anyone had the chance to doubt you.”

Oscar nodded, crossing his arms. “Think about it. You’ve spent the last five years proving a girl can race with the best of the best. The only difference is that you were given a fair shot—without prejudice clouding people's judgment from the start.” He tilted his head, a sly grin forming. “Just imagine the absolute meltdown the anti-female racing fans are gonna have when you reveal yourself. You’re about to shatter every argument they’ve ever had in real time.”

My heart swelled, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through my chest. For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe.

They didn’t just accept me.

They believed in me.

Franco finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual but steady.

"They are right," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "When I found out yesterday,"

My stomach twisted as he confirmed my suspicions.

"The door wasn’t all the way shut. I was walking past when I heard you sobbing, and before I could even process it, I saw Nico holding you. And… I saw you—not Ghost, not the masked driver everyone argued over—but you."

He let out a slow breath, like he had been holding it in for months. "At first, I didn’t know what to think. I mean, I had hunches that something was off—sometimes your mannerisms didn’t match up, your reactions felt… different from what I expected—but I never thought this was the truth. And when I did realize? Everything just… shifted."

I stiffened slightly, but his expression wasn’t one of judgment—it was one of understanding.

"I saw the way you carried yourself, how you fought for every inch in this sport, how you refused to back down even when the entire world was tearing you apart over baseless rumors. And then it hit me—" He shook his head, his voice growing more certain. "—if you had never hidden your identity, if they had known you were a girl from the start, you wouldn’t have even made it to IndyCar, let alone past it. You would’ve been written off, ridiculed, shoved into a marketing stunt instead of given a real seat."

I swallowed hard, because he was right. I had known it. But hearing someone else say it out loud? It made my chest tighten.

Franco ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "And that’s what pissed me off the most—realizing that you had to do this. That you had no choice but to race under a mask just to prove you belonged. And even then, people still found ways to tear you down." His jaw clenched. "It made me sick. That’s why I started acting different—I wasn’t mad at you, I was mad at the system that forced you to do this in the first place."

Silence hung in the air between us.

I had spent years preparing for this moment, expecting rejection, expecting people to be angry with me for lying. But instead, all I was met with was understanding.

A lump formed in my throat, and I had to blink hard to keep my emotions in check.

Lando let out a deep breath. "Damn… that’s actually insane when you think about it."

Oscar crossed his arms. "Yeah, it’s fucking bullshit is what it is."

Franco looked at me then, something unreadable in his eyes. "But you made it anyway." His lips quirked up in a small, almost proud smile. "You proved you belonged—without sponsors forcing a diversity hire, without a team trying to sell you as the next big ‘female trailblazer’ before you even turned a wheel. You earned this. And now that you’re here? No one can take that away from you."

Something in me cracked at those words.

For so long, I had braced myself for this truth to destroy everything I had built. But instead, these three—these friends—were standing beside me, not tearing me down but lifting me up.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t Ghost.

I was just me.

I took a slow, shaky breath.

“If I tell you the full truth… will you promise me something?” My voice was quieter now, uncertain.

Lando, Oscar, and Franco exchanged glances before nodding.

“Of course,” Lando said.

“Anything,” Oscar added.

Franco just gave me a firm look, waiting.

I hesitated, but I couldn’t stop now. The weight of the secret was pressing down on me, and for the first time in years, I wasn’t carrying it alone.

“I didn’t start hiding my identity because I wanted to,” I admitted. “It wasn’t some big strategy or grand plan. I did it because it was the only way I was ever going to race.”

Their brows furrowed, curiosity flickering in their eyes.

“My parents… they never wanted me to be a driver.” The bitterness in my tone was undeniable. “Jack? He got everything. He was the future of our family in racing. My parents invested everything into him, his training, his career. But me? I was their daughter. That meant a different future—one where I was supposed to be proper, ladylike, anything but a racer.”

Oscar’s mouth parted slightly in shock. Lando looked outright offended.

“But… then how did you start racing?” Franco asked, confusion laced in his voice.

A small, sad smile pulled at my lips. “My uncle. He helped me. He was the only one who saw how much I loved it—how much I needed it. He taught me behind my parents’ backs, found ways to get me into karting under a fake name. He made sure I had a shot.”

I swallowed hard.

“They never knew. Not my parents. Not Jack. And as I got older, the lie became my only way forward. The mask… it became necessary. If they found out, it would’ve been over before I even had a chance.”

Silence filled the room, the weight of my words settling in.

“I watched so many other girls get stuck,” I continued, my voice dropping to almost a whisper. “They had the talent. They worked just as hard, if not harder. But they were always seen as ‘a risk,’ as ‘a marketing opportunity’ instead of real drivers. Meanwhile, I just kept moving up—because they didn’t know. Because I was a mystery they could project their own expectations onto.”

I let out a humorless chuckle.

“And now? This is all I know. I don’t know how to race any other way. If I take the mask off now, everything changes. I change.”

I met their eyes then, desperation creeping into my tone.

“That’s why I need you to promise me. Please. Keep pretending you don’t know. Keep using male pronouns. Keep the secret alive—just a little longer.”

I could see the emotions warring in their expressions—concern, understanding, frustration at the reality of it all.

Then, Lando let out a long breath, shaking his head in disbelief before cracking a small, lopsided smile.

“This is fucking mental,” he muttered.

Oscar nudged him. “Lando.”

“What? It is! But…” He looked back at me, something more serious in his gaze now. “I get it.”

Oscar nodded. “Me too. It’s not fair, but if this is what you need… we’ve got your back.”

Franco was the last to speak, his expression unreadable. But then, he gave a single nod.

“We’ll keep the secret. No one’s gonna hear it from us.”

Relief flooded through me so fast I almost felt lightheaded.

"Thank you," I whispered, meaning it more than I ever had before.

Lando let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair. "You know, we originally came in here to congratulate you on your first goddamn F1 win, but somehow, we ended up in a full-blown identity reveal."

Oscar snorted. "Yeah, this was not on my bingo card for today."

Franco shook his head with an exasperated laugh. "You literally won your first race, and instead of celebrating, we get emotional in your dressing room and drop the biggest plot twist of the season."

I couldn't help but chuckle at that, the tension in the air finally easing. "I mean… if it makes you feel any better, I also wasn’t expecting this to happen today."

Lando threw his arms up. "Oh, fantastic! That makes it so much better."

Oscar patted his shoulder. "Deep breaths, mate."

Lando shot him a glare. "I have been breathing, thank you very much."

"Could've fooled me."

"Shut up, P5."

Oscar smirked. "P5? Mate, you're acting like you didn't just get your ass handed to you by the ‘rookie’ we all thought was a guy five minutes ago."

Lando groaned dramatically. "And now that's gonna haunt me for the rest of my life."

Franco clapped his hands together. "Alright, as fun as this little existential crisis is, we have an awards ceremony to get to before the FIA starts hunting us down."

My eyes widened. "Shit, you're right." I rushed over to grab my helmet, shoving it back on my head before anyone else could see my face. The visor clicked into place, securing the secret once again.

Lando waggled his eyebrows. "So mysterious."

I smacked his arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For being you."

"Wow. Rude."

Oscar sighed, already heading toward the door. "Can we please move this along? I'd like to see secret history being made sometime today."

Franco pulled the door open, peeking outside to make sure the coast was clear before gesturing for us to follow.

As we stepped out, Lando leaned in toward me. "Just so you know, Max is gonna be so pissed he lost to a literal ghost driver."I smirked under my helmet. "Then let’s not keep him waiting."

Taglist: @widow-cevans @honethatty12 @wierdflowerpower @imlonelydontsendhelp @thatsnotaddy

[iimplicitt]

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET PT. I | CL16

part one - part two

charles leclerc x fem!character

a/n: i feel bad for charles in this one whoops. inspired by dirty little secret by nessa barrett. part two will def have some good luck, babe! undertones. this is short and not that sweet. enjoy the angst

requests open

wc: 1.4k

His phone lit up in the dark room, casting the space in blue luminescence. He knew who it was, he didn’t need to check. It was practically routine any time she came to a race weekend. Charles was at her beck and call, always groveling. It had been that way for years.

Her dirty little secret, kept hidden from the world. He was hers. Charles kept telling himself he was okay with that but every now and then that little creature would crawl up from the depth of his mind, reminding him that she wasn’t his.

It wasn’t like they were completely unknown. To everyone else they were just friends. Supportive and caring. Nothing more, nothing less. Charles had to stand there and watch as she ran off with another guy every now and then. Confused but willing when she’d still call him to meet up, knowing it was wrong but not caring because he was selfish that way. He’d greedily take whatever parts of herself she’d give him.

Besides, he was doing it to himself at this point. She’d been up front the moment they decided to cross the boundaries of what had been an innocent friendship. They had lied there, tangled up in his sheets with city lights gleaming outside of whatever hotel they had been in. Her head rested against his chest and he drew circles into her back.

“Don’t give me your heart,” she had whispered. A warning. Either for him or herself, he didn’t know.

Charles didn’t think much of it until the next day when they were in the paddock and he’d gone for her hand. A little hurt when she slipped away from him, sparing him a glance before walking away to go talk to Lando.

He understood quickly enough when he found them making out later that night in a club.

They weren’t meant to be known, it was just for fun. She told him he could back out whenever he wanted with no hard feelings. They could just be friends, like usual.

He never said no when she called.

Never said no when she pulled him into her room by his shirt, mouth crashing onto his. Saying no never crossed his mind when his hands danced up beneath her skirt.

When baby had slipped out of his mouth one day he hadn’t noticed until she paused and looked at him. Her expression unreadable, her eyes a little sad. Or maybe it was pity.

“What’re you doing that for?”

Charles opened his mouth to respond, but he didn’t know what to say. That kind of intimacy isn’t what she wanted. At least not from him. “Sorry,” he muttered, watching as she turned away from him and texted on her phone. Her new boyfriend, or not quite. Considering they had sex last night, the hickeys Charles left on her hidden beneath her shirt.

He knew what he was doing was awful. But he kept telling himself one day he wouldn’t have to sneak out the backdoor of her house when her boyfriend got home early. That one day it would be his own home she woke up in. He wanted lazy mornings with her. He wanted to take her out, dance, kiss her with reckless abandon.

Charles was patient, he could wait. She’d realise soon enough she didn't need to find comfort in others. Part of him felt like she knew already but was just pushing off the inevitable. It was scary, giving yourself over to someone so completely. He knew in their case it was a bit complicated. Years of pushing and pulling, what ifs and attraction neither wanted to address.

They were best friends, nothing would change that and he knew he’d always be there for her. Despite the distance she tried to put between them sometimes, he knew she’d always have his back.

Monaco had been a dangerous test on his self control. After he won and he saw her from where he was standing on the top step of the podium, smiling at him with tears in her eyes, he ran to her afterwards. Picking her up and spinning her around, the sound of her laughter was heaven in his ears. Charles nearly kissed her, but he caught the warning in her eyes before he did. There are eyes around. Not here. Have you lost your mind?

He was nearly tempted to do it anyway, but after a moment he set her down, using all of his will power to remove his hands from her waist.

“Thank you for being here,” he said instead. Still happy of course, but his smile a little less bright. Hesitant. Not knowing how to act around her.

She gave him her own quiet grin, reaching a hand out to squeeze his own and he felt his heart trip over itself before she let go. “I know how much this race means to you.”

He nodded, taking in any of the small doses of affection she doled out to him.

Though later at the after party, when his eyes danced around looking for her like always, his heart melting a little when he saw her laughing and drinking with Oscar’s girlfriend, he took a few steps forward before coming to an abrupt halt.

Carlos came up behind her, arms sliding around her waist, comfortable. Familiar. She leaned into him, tilting her head back to let him kiss her.

It felt as if the world had been yanked out from under his feet. Hurtling through space, the lack of oxygen making his head spin. His teammate? Really?

When the opportunity arose as he saw her walking off to the bathroom, he came up behind her and grabbed her arm, spinning her around.

She blinked up at him, a bit dazed by the sudden aggression. But as her eyes flicked over his face her lips pressed into a line. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Carlos? Seriously?”

She yanked her arm out of his hold, her brows furrowing as if he were being unreasonable. “What’s wrong with Carlos?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He supposed he was being a little unreasonable. All the times he knew she was in a relationship but he still happily obliged whatever desire she wanted, went down on her whenever she asked, let her nails rake down his back and when he’d pull on her hair the way she liked, when she moaned his name instead of her boyfriend’s… he hadn’t batted an eye.

Lando had admittedly hurt a bit, but he knew it wasn’t much between them. A fling. Excuses were all Charles made. But his teammate? That felt too close. Too real. Too personal even, because why not him? Why not ever just him?

She sighed, as if reading his mind. “Charles,” she started slowly. Tip toeing around the topic. Because he knew she knew. He’d known she’s known for a while now. She knew he was in love with her.

“Listen, I didn’t mean for this to get this far.” She gestured between them and he could feel his heart beating in his ears. “And we have fun, a lot and it’s always been nice but I don’t need to be this grand love of your life.”

He closed his eyes, suddenly wishing he hadn’t come out tonight. Wishing he was anywhere else.

He flinched when he felt her hand gently cup the side of his face, eyes opening to meet hers and he already knew what she was going to say.

“We don’t have to be in love, Charles.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but what? What else was there to say? He’d been a fool, he knew that. She warned him from the start but he had blindly held onto hope.

“I don’t want to be in love.” Her hand fell from his face and she stepped away from him. “Not with you.”

Charles stood there. His ears were ringing. Dazed. Dizzy. Watching as she went off to Carlos, falling into him so easily and smiling as he kissed her.

He should’ve blocked her number. Should’ve deleted it.

When his phone rang two weeks later he stared at it for a moment. Hating her. Hating Carlos a little bit, which he knew wasn’t fair.

He hated himself as he picked up, muttering a Hello and I’ll be over in ten minutes.

tag list: @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @ashbone @c8lap1nto @taasgirl @stopeatread @dying-inside-but-its-classy

[lostinlovingrevery]

how much of a lovesick gentleman do we think he really is when he’s found someone he sees himself with for a long period of time

(in my mind he’s like perfect but if we’re being fr because men are men unfortunately)

Oh I think he most def is going to be the most lovesick gentleman on earth. Hes not perfect. But we just love that about him don't we?

Lets see if I can really put my thoughts out about this! I wanna be realistic here, but I also really do think logan would be the biggest sweetheart

Logans rough around the edges

but that doesn't mean he can't love!

I mean if we want to look at his history, comic-wise, when hes in love hes devoted to them.

The one lady he married after WW2, he absolutely adored her and still loved her even decades and decades after her murder. (i seen comic pages where he had a shrine to her. older comics)

Obvs he did move on when he met Jean, of course that was more unrequited

and you got the occasional timelines with Storm! They're really cute

theres a page of her asking him if he would really tear the world apart for them to be together

take a wild guess on his answer

and then theres Kayla(gag) in origins! I mean, Logans a big sweetheart with her.

Anyhoo we aren't talking about logans other timeline lovers

I truly think logan is a lover boy

I think, depending on what his history looks like since hes' got a lot of different versions (i like to pick and chose when I write my fics lol)

he would probably be a little rough around the edges at first. not in a way where he's a dick to you. I think he would just be nervous

Hes been stuck in a cycle of violence for so long

im mixed between him being scared of stepping out of that cycle, out of fear of getting you hurt, but also him being so desperate to just love

like how he liked jean so much and so quickly in the trilogy movies.

god just talking about that makes me irritated

anyhoo

SO

I think

When Logans in love, he's still that sarcastic, anger-proned, alcoholic we all know and love. But I think he's the type to want to become better for you

he's not going to be fake but he's going to be softer around you. he wants to love you. make you happy. take care of you.

He's thinking about you all the time

so much so i think he'd get himself physically ill because he loves you so much. he just needs you :( <3

I think you'll be spared of his smart mouth (for the most part...). He won't cease it when talking to other people around you tho.

He's happier when youre around. holds his head a little taller

hes going to make perverted comments. hes going to look at your butt. hes going to squeeze your boobs. maybe even name them

hes a man in that sense

but i think hes old enough (lol) that he knows how to treat people.

people tend to act like logans super arrogant (hell i even think of him like that) but i actually think he's the most open to criticism and being wrong about things

i think he can be very wise

anyhoo, honestly I think once he gets over the complication of having feelings for you and the mortifying ordeal of being percievied, hes going to be the softest boy over you

sweet kisses just because

he'll bring you flowers, he'll write you love notes even, they may not be full of fancy love language, little things like hes misses you, loves you, in his own logan language

hes traditional in that sense. hes from the 1800s. he remembers the original ways to woo someone

I think acts of service is def one of his love languages.

get you groceries, fix the leaky pipes, fill your car up with gas, he doesn't think you should be lifting a finger

he'll tear the world apart for you

his feelings run far and deep- even if he makes it seem like that's not the case. its merely to protect himself

but believe me that barrier is gone when he finds you.

maybe it's me, im a sappy romantic (even tho i have no love life lol) but I think Logan would just adore you

hes the type to get on his knees and worship you straight UP

will defend you to the death. you could straight up being going insane and threatening to kill everyone and hes like "leave my girl alone :(" (X3 Logan im looking at you)

he'll keep pictures of you in his jacket and wallet

looks at you with those big puppy eyes UGH

BABY LOOK AT HIM

probably has told scott to shut the fuck up bc he teased him over how he turns into a lil puppy dog when you're in the room

hes going to be all about learning about you. your career/job, special interests, your quirks, your goddamn favorite soap

In the beginning, logan may try to be mr.cool guy but only bc he doesn't want to scare you off.

he likes the small touches between you both. brush of the hands, holding pinkies, playing footsie under the table

when you're alone though it is required that you are in his lap

an absolute rule

hes gonna get pissy over it

he will respect you in any way, with any boundaries I truly believe this honestly

i think if logans got a good feeling, ain't nothing going to bother him when it comes to you other than the fact that if you're not together he can't show his love for you

no relationship is perfect. You and Logan will argue, misunderstandings, such and such

but once again with logans age and experience, it makes him a very mature partner

he knows the little things aren't worth sweating, and hes smart to know when to really sit down and talk things over

i think different variant logans (which in some ways are just different stages of his life) would form different relationships based on their experience./lifestage but all of them are love boys once you get over the tough parts

just for example bc i love him, I think trilogy Logan would be so in love with you, but I think with not remembering his past at first, he may struggle to pursuing anything serious

its not that he doesn't want to, and hes not going out and flirting with other girls. its that maybe he thinks you deserve to have someone steady, someones who knows who he is, someone whos built a foundation for themselves

he prob thinks pretty low of himself. he gets cranky and sarcastic. he was cage fighting to get by. hes lonely. he probably sees you as someone amazing and hes...well, him.

but if you get over that hump, maybe when he gets his memories, or maybe you're just able to uplift him enough where he can see that you adore him for who he is, he'll be all over you'

I actually this would be fun to write about in deeper context so may make another post one day tweaking my thoughts on this but this is just what i'm thinking so far!!!

[jakedustry]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄 - 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐎𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎

You can’t put out fire with fire. But you can combine them, and watch the place burn down in front of your eyes. The demon king realized that when he watched his son dethrone him. He should have never sent him on the mission in the first place. If he hadn’t, he could have kept his son’s fire under control. 

IN WHICH Wonwoo spends most of his time in his room, watching the world around from the comfort of his window. He likes it that way. It wasn’t like the outer world would be something he’d like to see any other way anyway. However, when his dad—the demon king—decides it’s time for him to go out, he can’t say anything in protest. 

As Wonwoo wanders through the mountains to reach the Angel’s territory, the little flame you leave behind yourself catches his attention, and you know you found someone interesting when even the flame you fire into his face doesn’t make him turn around and get to where he came from. 

── .✦

genre– Fluff, Smut

warnings/contains– fire fairy!reader, demon prince!wonwoo, side character death, Wonwoo has horns, tail and wings, some sexual jokes, Wonwoo is compared to a horny teen, drinking, mythical creatures, demons and angels rivalry, love at first sight, forced proximity, lots of plot (especially regarding the demons), arranged marriage (unsuccessful), dom!reader mostly, sub!wonwoo mostly, handjob, unprotected sex, kinda horn play/sensitivity play, they do it once with their friends sleeping on the other side of the cave they are in, oral (f!receiving), face sitting I might have forgotten some

word count– 29.2k

playlist

↪ izzy adds... okay this was so fun. I really enjoyed the world building and playing around the powers and backstory of the demons. I'm so happy to be a part of this collab with my friends and so so so thankful to them. I also want to say a special thank you to @beomiracles because she was the one who organized most of it and helped us all unite. You did so well with it serene <33 This story is barely proofread, so sorry for any mistakes you might come across

Does the world burn because of people, or is it people who burn because of the world they live in? 

Wonwoo thinks about this question daily as he stares out of his window, watching the demons outside scorch the ground beneath their feet. But he knows they aren’t the only ones causing all the mess—the world above, teeming with other creatures, is far worse.

He couldn’t say he has met many of them—he wasn’t even sure if he could say he met any of them (he refused to count the brief eye contact exchange he made with one of the vampires years ago when he was a child)—but those are the things he’s been taught. “We aren’t bad like everyone portrays us,” he recalls his nanny saying, the pause in her words still etched in his memory. “Some of us, at least.” 

A sharp knock on the door pulls Wonwoo from his thoughts. He turns away from the children outside, who are tossing little flames at each other. “Come in!” He calls, and it takes barely a second before the door opens and he meets eyes with the same lady that raised him. “Misoon,” he smiles, standing up. She exchanges a smile with him, hesitantly closing the door behind herself. 

Misoon has served the demon king for as long as Wonwoo can remember. Her face is lined with wrinkles, yet he has never thought of her as old. She is wise, having lived more lifetimes than he could imagine. She has always been there—teaching him how to read, speak, and harness the basics of his powers—everything his parents never cared to be part of. A part of him hates that he sees her as a mother figure, especially since his own mother is long gone, but he has learned to accept it. So, he’s learnt to read her, and he knew that frown on her face—full of worry, wouldn’t bring anything good. 

“Your father will summon you in a few minutes, Sir,” she informs him, taking a few steps closer. “Don’t call me that,” he frowns at the sudden address. “You’ve changed my diapers before, I think it’s only fair to call me by my name.” 

“I already promised to drop the Royal Highness, but I can’t afford speaking so casually to you, Prince.” 

It’s like a reminder to him that she isn’t actually his close family member, but one of his father’s workers, who only happens to care for him. Wonwoo sighs and nods. “Alright then. So, what was it about my father calling for me?” He asks, and the hesitation he catches in Misoon’s eyes makes him worried. “I’m not exactly sure what happened—but I overheard a conversation His Majesty had with one of the knights. They want you to go out with them.” 

“Out?” There is a mixture of feelings in Wonwoo’s eyes as he glances out of his window again. “To do what exactly? From what I know, there isn’t anything happening in the kingdom that would need the knights involved.” 

“Outside the kingdom, Prince. We are talking about the real Aethera.” Suddenly, her worries made sense. The world above was a mystery to him, and he isn’t sure it’s one he wants to unravel. The demon king never mentioned anything about wanting him to help out, prove himself, or even take any responsibilities on, so it was more than confusing to him. It always seemed like he didn’t care, like he’d be happier not having a son rather than having to deal with Wonwoo, so why start caring now? 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” she nods, and he notices her small horns have shrunk. He bites the inside of his cheek, nodding in return.

“Then I guess I’ll have to see it out.” 

“No, Prince, I actually think you shouldn’t–” 

A loud knock on the door echoes through the room. 

“Come in!” Wonwoo yells, turning his attention to the door. The sigh Misoon lets out goes by unnoticed. 

Just as she said, minutes later, Wonwoo is kneeling in the grand hall before his father, listening to him speak. 

“There is time for everyone,” the king starts, clearing his throat. Wonwoo’s eyes flicker up to him for a brief second before he glances back down, almost staring a hole into the floor beneath him. Thanks to Misoon he knew what the conversation was going to be about, but he hadn’t expected a lesson with it as well. “You’re 27 now. It’s way past yours.” Wonwoo stiffens at the veiled insult but holds his tongue. “So, as a way to get back on track and prove yourself worth it—this throne for example—I want you to co-lead a mission.” 

Prove his worth? Did he need to do that? Did he have to take over the kingdom at some point and rule the demons like his father has? He knew it had to come once, but a part of him always thought that the later, the better. He loved the freedom he had now—the ability to exist without the weight of others’ expectations.

A part of him wanted to turn around and run away when he listened to the real reason why he was going but he knew he couldn’t. “You’ll become a true man after that and will be able to find a wife for yourself. It was about time, after all.” 

“Of course,” Wonwoo mumbles through gritted teeth, realizing that maybe Misoon’s worries weren’t so out of place. “Perfect,” his father’s voice comes out strong, and before Wonwoo can look up, there are already two knights on each of his sides, waiting for him to get up so they could escort him out. 

The sudden change is something Wonwoo wasn’t fond of. 

Just last week, his days looked simple. Eat, study, eat, stay in his room, eat, sleep. But now, for some reason, everyone needed to keep an eye on him. He could barely find a free minute to run off to his room and relax before another one of the knights or teachers showed up, insisting on having to teach him something. 

Now, his day looked something more like this; Workout, fight, study, eat, fight, workout, fight, snack, sleep. 

“You’re holding it wrong,” the knight grumbles, walking over to fix Wonwoo’s grip. “Your Highness, it’s important that you learn as much as you can before we leave. When we reach the mountains, it’ll be too late. We can’t keep an eye on the angels and you on top of that.” 

It felt humbling to say the least. Wonwoo was an adult, he should have learnt how to hold a sword a long time ago, not to mention his power control. 

“Noted,” it comes out more raspy than he’d want to, catching the older male off guard. He doesn’t say anything, though, and a part of Wonwoo feels relieved. 

Later that day, when Wonwoo sits alone in the large dining room and his eyes land on the clock that marks already 3pm, he is surprised to see another person walk in, a portion of the same lunch he has in his hands. He feels even more conflicted when the blond boy sits down opposite him. Didn’t he find himself impolite for not bothering with saying at least a greeting to his prince before invading his space? 

Wonwoo clears his throat, loud enough to catch the boy’s attention. Their eyes meet, but all he gets is a smile in return before the blond continues eating. The prince wasn’t sure what was going on through the boy’s head, but he wasn’t one to mention anything, so he simply returned to his lunch. 

It wasn’t for another 3 days before he saw him again. His blond locks cover his eyes, and he looks kind of funny looking up at the other men in armor, but Wonwoo can’t doubt his skills, not after he saw him fight. 

“Oh! It’s you again!” His eyes land on Wonwoo, causing the taller male to widen his eyes. “From the dining room? We had a late lunch together!” He sounds offended when Wonwoo doesn’t automatically act like they’ve been friends for years. He opens his mouth to answer but before he can do so, one of the knights nudges the blond’s shoulder, informing him this isn’t how he should speak to his prince. 

And he’s right. Had Wonwoo been anything like his father, the young boy wouldn’t have a tongue by now. 

“Don’t mind him, Your Highness. Chan just wants to get along with everyone.” Wonwoo turns his head to the side upon hearing the voice, slightly nodding when he notices another knight. If his memory recalls correctly he introduced himself as Seokmin before. “He means no harm, though.” 

There is a sigh that leaves his lips when he notices the blond in a headlock, laughing with another two boys he can’t remember the names of at the moment. Seokmin looks confused upon that for a second until he looks into Wonwoo’s eyes, a smile appearing on his lips as he realizes the exhale is nothing but wishful. 

Spending weeks with a group of men who either think with their dicks or swords was something Wonwoo never imagined doing. Yet, he noticed some of their traits growing onto him as well. 

He wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing. 

A lot of people told him he’s gotten more talkative and louder in the past few days, and it always sounded like a compliment, but the feeling of turning into a person he didn’t even know always made his smile fade away. He’d much rather have people avoiding him because they find him weird than them praising him for being someone he isn’t. 

“Hey, prince!” Chan’s laugh fills Wonwoo’s ears, making him turn around. “Are you coming with us? We want to grab some drinks since it’s the last day before the mission,” he informs him, and Wonwoo thinks about it for a bit. Seokmin told him about it earlier, and he said he won’t go but now that he saw how excited Chan was for it, he didn’t want to miss it. 

“Alright.” 

There’s a quiet “Yes!” that leaves Chan’s lips and it makes Wonwoo chuckle. 

“You can go first. I still need to take care of some things but I’ll come,” he assured him, watching him walk away before he turned on his heel, walking through the castle to get to the library for his last lesson with the king’s advisor. 

He had mixed feelings about the situation, honestly. He was glad he wouldn’t need to have his head buried in the pile of books while listening to older men talk his ears off about topics he had no interest in anymore but a part of him knew he’ll miss it in the future nonetheless. Once he’d come back with the knights, his whole world will be changed and he’ll probably want to come back to the somehow-easy times where all he had to care about was making sure he wouldn’t fall asleep while listening to these lessons. 

So, for the first and last time, he walked to his lesson with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, ready for anything else he still had to learn. 

It’s safe to say Chan is drunk when Wonwoo finally arrives into the pub right outside the castle and joins the table full of knights. He tries his best to ignore the pairs of eyes on him and orders a beer for himself immediately, which follows a loud chant from the others. 

“I thought you weren’t going to join us, Your Highness,” Seokmin comments with a teasing smirk on his face. Wonwoo rolls his eyes at that but a smile creeps up his face. “Wonwoo is fine,” he proclaims, and it catches the younger man off guard. “I don’t think I can–” 

“It’s fine. I promise,” Wonwoo assures him before he can finish, looking around the table. “You are the only one who still calls me by my title. Everyone else dropped it a long time ago, so you should too.” He smiles, nodding. “Okay, then, Wonwoo.” 

A round of drinks goes by only to be met with a new one, and soon enough, the group supposed to protect all of the demons and their empire is drunk in a local pub, singing loudly and yelling over each other. It’s a funny sight for sure. 

“You!” Chan points at the prince, making him blink confusedly. “How come you don’t have a wife yet?” Another one of the knights—Jisung—joins in and everyone’s eyes land on the tall male. “Uhm,” he starts, trying to think of any valid reason. “We keep waiting for you to find someone so you can take over the throne but it feels like you don’t take any initiative to do so!” 

“I haven’t found the right person,” Wonwoo lies. He’s never cared about finding a wife for himself, nor taking over the throne for the matter. Deep down he knew it was something he should think about every second of his day, he took lectures on how to rule a kingdom for reasons after all, but for now, it seemed like something so far beyond his capabilities he’d rather not bother himself with it. 

“I call bullshit,” Seokmin says, nudging the prince’s shoulder. “Surely you hadn’t been single this whole time. That’d just be a disgrace to your little royal–” The owner interrupts him before he can finish his sentence, placing another round of drinks on their table. Wonwoo feels relieved. He’d rather not discuss his (barely existent) sexual journey with them. 

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” Wonwoo laughs it off, finding an escape route. “We still need some sleep before tomorrow. Last round.” There are a few complaints from the others at first, but in the end Wonwoo is the one with the last word, calling it a night when everyone finishes their drink. 

There is a weird feeling that creeps up Wonwoo’s shoulders as he walks through the castle hallways to reach his room, but he tries to pay it little to no attention. Surely it’s all the alcohol he had tonight and nothing else. That’s what he thinks until he senses the presence of another human being. But before he can do anything about it, figure out who it is or why they’ve been following him, two arms wrap around him, dragging him aside into one of the rooms. 

“For fucks sake, you scared the shit out of me, Misoon!” Wonwoo yells when he finally sets his eyes on the person, and she immediately covers his mouth to quiet him down. She has to stand on her tiptoes to reach him, but she is willing to do that if it means getting him to shut up. His words are muffled against her palm but she makes out the words to be something like “What’s going on?” 

She sighs, letting her hand fall back to her side. Wonwoo notices the worry in her eyes first and then the few new wrinkles on her face. He wouldn’t dare to point it out, but she didn’t look the best. 

“Why are we here?” He asks when she doesn’t answer his first question, looking around. It is her room, he realizes. It’s been so long since he’s last been here that he almost didn’t recognize it. “So I know we are alone,” she proclaims, walking past him to sit in her chair. His eyes follow her, but his feet stay glued to the floor, not moving an inch. 

“There have been…weird things happening,” she explains when she sees the confused look on Wonwoo’s face. “Your father is full of secrets, Prince, and I’m not only scared for myself, but mainly for you.” Now he laughs. “Scared? For me?” However, the expression on her face shows she doesn’t find it as funny as he does. He swallows hard, trying to read her and somehow make sense of what is happening. He shakes his head before he takes a seat on her bed. It’s small, the whole room is, and it makes him feel bad. After everything she’s done for his family this is how the king repays her? 

“There are things you don’t know about. Stuff His Majesty decided to bury so deep only he knows about them.” 

“Look, Misoon, I know my father has his issues but no one is perfect. We’ve actually…gotten closer since he decided to put me on this mission. I don’t want to ruin that based on nothing.” 

She closes her mouth again when he says that, trying to think of something, anything, that could convince him. It seemed impossible though when she had no evidence she could hold onto. “Just promise me you’ll be careful? I’m not sure why he decided to send you on this mission, but I know it can’t be anything good.” 

Wonwoo smiles but doesn’t say anything else. He stands up again, walking over to the door. With one last look at her, the words “Good night” leave his lips before he exists, falling asleep as soon as his back hits the comfort of his bed. 

Drinking the night before was a bad idea. They all realized it as they walked through the Darkwood forest, the birds chipping around them making their heads dizzy. How were they supposed to fight anyone like this? 

“Alright, let’s settle down for some time,” Seokmin commands, turning around to face the knights. “I hate saying this but we are not ready right now,” he sighs and without any complaints, the group of men gets comfortable in the middle of the forest. Thankfully, this wasn’t a battle they could win in a single day anyway. Only the walk to the mountains would take almost the whole day, not to mention the stairway to heaven. Climbing up was going to take some time. No one would mind the few extra hours they had to spend outside. 

“My head hurts,” Chan complains, resting his back against one of the trees. “Because you drank twice as much as everyone else,” Jisung comments, slightly kicking Chan’s leg as he walks past him. Wonwoo laughs as the blond raises his hand as if to fight but Jisung isn’t paying him any attention by then. “Here, have this,” he offers him his water bottle. “The sooner you sober up, the sooner we can go.” 

“You and your stupid royal blood,” Chan mumbles, taking the bottle from him. “Why are you not drunk? Is it some super ability you royals have? Not feeling the alcohol in your blood the next day?” The prince laughs at his questions again, shaking his head as he takes a seat beside him. “I’m just lucky I guess.” 

“I don’t get why we can’t just fly over there, it would be way quicker.” The complaint catches Wonwoo’s attention, making him look up to see Seokmin talking with one of the younger knights. “Is that a real question?” Seokmin raises an eyebrow confusedly, giving him another chance to prove he isn’t stupid. “Yes, it is.” 

“Oh god,” Chan sighs. “Do you think he’ll slap him?” Now it’s Wonwoo who is confused. “Why would he do that?” Chan shrugs. “Min slaps me when I have stupid questions. But the more I think about it, the more I’m realizing it might just be because he doesn’t like me,” he mumbles the last part, hoping he is wrong once again. “That’s not it,” Wonwoo assures him. “I actually think it’s because he does like you. He cares, otherwise he wouldn’t get so worked up. Look,” he points at the two guys, watching as Seokmin only gives a brief answer before walking away from him, deciding he isn’t going to deal with him. 

“Did he not listen at all when we planned this whole thing?” Seokmin asks, frustrated as he joins the two guys next to the tree. “You probably tired him so much he slept through it,” Chan jokes, ignoring the dead stare Min sends his way. “Even if he did sleep through it all, isn’t it basic knowledge? If we were to fly up to them, they’d notice us and we’d lose our only advantage.” 

“No need to explain that to us, you made sure we wouldn’t sleep when everything was explained,” Wonwoo laughs, again. It’s weird how many times he’s done that around them. After he reached his teenage years and was forced to learn about the world and all the rules of the demon kingdom, there wasn’t really much to laugh about. It was a nice change. And he appreciated his new friends for it. 

Seokmin rolls his eyes, taking out an old wrist watch from his pocket to see the time. “We should get going again soon. Find water and then get out of here so we are out of the forest before night comes.” Wonwoo nods, standing up and clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, enough lazing around! We need to find a water source and then we’ll get back on track. Now!” He insists when no one moves at first and everyone listens. It’s not like they’d have a different choice when their prince tells them to do something. 

Chan whines, Wonwoo’s words ringing in his head. He was never going to drink again. 

Except for when they get back victorious. 

“Why did I sign up for this again?” Seokmin sighs when he gets back to others. It took forever to find the water source and the sun was already setting down when they all met again. Their plan couldn’t be more off. At least he knew all his knights were sobered up now. 

“Because you love action?” Wonwoo suggests. “And you’re way too loyal to the kingdom.” He can’t disagree, so he simply hums, ordering everyone to start moving. They only get to take a few steps before Wonwoo stops, holding onto Seokmin’s arm to make him halt too. There’s a questioning look on his face, but he doesn’t explain anything, simply looking around the forest, trying to find something. 

“Someone’s out there,” he finally says and within seconds, Seokmin has his sword out. “What’s going on?” The whispers coming from their men don’t make it any easier for them to locate the sounds but that doesn’t stop them. 

“Whose territory is this, Jisung?” Seokmin asks, getting a response immediately. “Werewolves mostly, sir.” The prince and him share a look before looking back at their men. “We don’t want to mess up our relationship with them, everyone understands?!” When they all agree, he continues. “Our time is ticking, so let’s get out of here as fast as we can! No one, and I repeat, no one, will do anything to piss them off! Let’s avoid them,” he glances at the taller man next to him again and Wonwoo nods. “That’s right! Let’s go!” He joins, encouraging them to get going again. 

When they get out of the Darkwood forest, it’s the middle of the night. 

Wonwoo isn’t sure if he’s ever experienced a sunrise before. Down, back at the kingdom, there wasn’t a place he could watch them from, so he only heard about them from stories. He’s never got the hype about them. However, as he walked beside his friends now, watching the clear sky gain colors and the sun come up, he understood it all. It was truly beautiful. He regretted not being outside sooner. Who knew what else he was missing out on. 

“Okay, guys, we trained for this,” Seokmin turns to all of the guys, his feet covered in snow as he stands on the bottom of the stairway to heaven. The stairs are visibly old, and Wonwoo wonders how long it’s been since anyone stepped on them when he sees the dust and rats running around. “Whoever is up there waiting for us—if there is anyone, they won’t see it coming.” 

It goes as planned, every step of their way is peaceful, almost too perfect. Wonwoo follows last, guarding the men from behind while Seokmin and Chan lead the way. He knew the stairs weren’t used by angels but still, something was fishy about how easily it all seemed. 

It’s only when they reach the top that Wonwoo finally senses the presence of another creature. “Wait, guys,” he tries to warn them, stop everyone and tell them to prepare their swords, but instead, he watches a light flash in front of his eyes, slicing through the air. It takes less than a second, just one move and before anyone can react, a light sword cuts through a demon’s flesh. 

Wonwoo’s eyes widen and his whole body freezes. Hadn’t it been for Seokmin, yelling at everyone to focus while he fires towards the light, who knows how it’d all end up. Who knows if Wonwoo would be able to react at all. 

Thankfully, he manages to shake himself off, ignoring Jisung’s body falling to the ground and lighting up a fire with his hand, trying to calculate the speed in which the light—likely an angel—moves in order to fire at the perfect time. He watches the men in the front take out their swords, looking around themselves, waiting for it to strike again while the guys in the back create a fire in their hands just like Wonwoo. 

Wonwoo’s eyes quickly follow all the movements around him, making sure not to hit anyone else as he shoots right in front of Seokmin’s face. Gasps are heard from the guys around but it doesn’t change the fact he hits the right spot, causing the light to turn back into an angel. A wave of relief washes over Wonwoo when the angel falls to the ground but to his luck, the battle has only started. And the war they started by this attack is near. 

Soon enough, before the demons get to collect themselves or mourn their lost knight, there is another light flashing in front of their eyes. 

“I believe we haven’t met yet.” The soft voice catches Wonwoo’s attention. There are three men standing in front of his men and who knows how many are hiding in the back, waiting for the best time to attack. “No, we certainly haven’t,” Wonwoo settles for the safe choice—talk. Whatever gives him time to think of a way out of this mess. “Yoon Jeonghan,” the angel in the front introduces himself, politely reaching his hand towards the demons. Wonwoo doesn’t shake his hand though, and neither does Seokmin. 

“Jeon Wonwoo,” the prince decides to introduce himself, creating a smile on Jeonghan’s face. “Your Highness,” he bows slightly but it’s obviously a sign of mockery. “What brings you here today?” — “I hope…” a chuckle leaves his lips, as if he was finding amusement in the whole situation. “You didn’t come here to fight us, did you?” 

Wonwoo hesitates, briefly exchanging a glance with Seokmin. “No,” he answers through gritted teeth. “But you attacked one of ours.” Jeonghan’s eyes wander to the lifeless body under him. “I believe we are even,” he shrugs and Wonwoo notices how he didn’t pay the tiniest of attention to the fallen angel yet. “Even though…” he starts again with a smirk on his face. “I don’t like being even.” 

Before Wonwoo can figure out what those words mean, another light flashes in front of him and the next thing he hears is a gasp from one of his men. He quickly realizes fighting someone who moves at the speed of light is nearly impossible. Bodies fall to the ground right beside him and it feels like he is unable to move again. Unable to help, save his friends. 

“Prince, careful!” It’s Chan’s voice that brings him out of the trance, making him take a step back, which almost causes him to fall down the stairs. “Behind you, Chan!” Wonwoo yells right back as he takes out his sword, creating a fire in his empty hand. “Prince, I need you to listen to me!” He briefly glances at Seokmin as he swings his sword towards one of the angels that appeared in front of him. “Focus on your powers, search deep in your core!” 

“Now isn’t the best time to give me extra lessons!” Wonwoo yells back as he listens to the comical instructions. “It’s exactly the time!” Min disagrees, trying to help out one of the younger demons. “Do as I say!” He wants to question it, argue with him at least, but he decides to do as he is told, taking a deep breath as he follows. “Imagine lighting your sword on fire!” Any angel nearby could see in his expression that Wonwoo wasn’t confident in what he was doing, and with powers, the key factor was confidence. Believing you could do whatever you wished for. 

But there have been weirder orders he received before, some he questioned more. 

So, even though Wonwoo doesn’t have the greatest faith in himself, he believes in Seokmin. 

“Woah,” he breathes out in shock, his eyes tracing as the sword ignites in flames. He smirks, gazing into his opponents eyes before he steps forward, cutting through the angel’s body in one swift motion. “How did you–” 

“Now is not the time for that!” Seokmin interrupts him, glancing over at Chan to see how he is holding up. “We need to get out of here immediately!” 

Wonwoo’s eyes never worked so much, so fast as they do now. He scans his surroundings, noticing Jeonghan on the top just watching the scene under him with pleasure. It annoys him how above-everyone he thinks he is. But he needs to focus on something else right now, so he counts the heads. There are eight demons still standing strong against who knows how many angels. He sees fifteen for now, but it’d be foolish to think more couldn’t show up any second. 

“Okay, everyone, I’ll keep them busy but you need to leave, now!” Seokmin tries to argue with Wonwoo’s command but it barely reaches the prince’s ears as he practically pushes them down, refusing to hear it out. He swings his sword again when one of the angels gets too close, glaring at the others so they know he means it. 

It takes no time for the angels to surround him, but it takes even less time for Wonwoo to push his wings out and take them down with one swift sweep. If Jeonghan wanted a show, Wonwoo was going to end it before the plot twist. 

“Is he–” Chan starts, glancing back to see the situation as he runs down the stairs with the others, trying to get as far away as possible before they’d resolve to flying away. “Don’t look back,” Seokmin orders, trying not to do so himself. “He’ll manage. He has to.” 

It’s obvious that they are both worried but there is nothing they can do. Now, it’s up to Wonwoo if he finally understands his powers. 

Jeonghan scoffs, taking a step forward to get closer. Wonwoo doesn’t let him, swinging his right wing right in front of him to stop him before he returns it to its original position in order to keep the other angels glued to the ground. “Don’t take another step or else–” 

“Or else what?” He isn’t scared, not a bit. If anything, Han feels intrigued, looking forward to what the prince might show him. “I’ve lived much longer than you did, prince. Fought many more battles.” Wonwoo swallows, carefully observing the situation he is in. He needs a solution, and he needs it now. 

Then it hits him. Imagine lighting your sword on fire! What if he did that with something else? 

He focuses again, giving all his attention into his wings. 

“I see,” Jeonghan mumbles, unable to take his eyes off the demon in front of him as his wings slowly turn from black to a deep, warm red and his eyes catch the same color. “You take a lot after your father.” 

The comment goes unnoticed by Wonwoo but it doesn’t matter. At the moment, he wouldn’t be able to make sense out of it anyway. 

“You can run after your little friends,” Jeonghan encourages him with a slight movement of his head. “If you can get out of this state, that is.” 

Wonwoo isn’t sure how long it takes for him to push his wings back in, but he certainly doesn’t like how much the angel seems to know about him. It felt as if he knew exactly what Wonwoo was capable of before he even did. It made him wonder just how much he didn’t know himself or his powers. 

“You what?!” Wonwoo closes his eyes, tired of all the yelling that has been happening for the past half hour. Sure, they weren’t able to fulfill their mission, but was it that important? Was it all worth the lives it took? Honestly, he didn’t think so. 

“We weren’t prepared well enough,” Seokmin mutters through gritted teeth as he glances at the king, lowering his head immediately again when their eyes meet. “I underestimated the situation. I should have taken on more knights. Maybe then…” 

“Fighting on their territory couldn’t go well for us no matter what,” Chan steps in, ignoring his elders’ warning looks and whispers. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, we lost that battle before we even took out our swords.” 

“Get them out of here,” the king commands, and before his personal guards can move to escort the knights out of the area, Seokmin and Chan are already on their feet, leaving as soon as they can. They have done their best. 

“Why are you still here?” The king questions with a frown when his eyes land on his son, who hasn’t moved a bit since he came. Wonwoo looks up, taking a deep breath before he stands up, rethinking his words. “That order wasn’t for me.” 

“You think that?” 

“I know.” 

The king nods just so slightly, glancing at his guards to let them know they can come back to their spots. “You need to go back.” This time, it is an order for him, one he can’t argue with. “They’ve made more mess than what’s worth a few heads you managed to cut this time. We need them to suffer.” We? Wonwoo frowns. It’s more than obvious this whole plan comes from the king’s head, no one else’s, so why is he pretending now that it’d be beneficial for more people? 

“Is that all?” Wonwoo asks after a second thought, unbothered with how impudent he sounds. He catches the shock on the king’s face even though he shakes it off shortly after, sending his son away with one move of his hand. 

“So?” Chan asks immediately when the door closes behind the prince, catching him off guard. He chuckles, glancing at the closed door before he walks away with his two friends by his side. He tells them the absurd order he received and watches as the smiles disappear off their faces. Honestly, it isn’t looking good for Wonwoo, or any of the knights that will be forced to go on the mission with him. 

But, the king’s order is slightly different than what they thought. It isn’t the trained knights that should take on the mission and fight for their king, it’s only the prince who is allowed to go. Everyone knows it’s fishy, and that the king definitely has some ulterior motives, but there is nothing they can do about it. 

And so, after a few days, Wonwoo sets off alone this time, tracing through the dark forest with no hope of returning back home. 

The snow on the side of the mountain still feels the same, and Wonwoo can’t focus on anything but how he wishes to have the same snow down at the kingdom. He is sure the kids would love it just as much. 

But for now, before figuring out how to transfer snow from here to the kingdom, he needs to perfect his powers. He had spoken to Seokmin about what happened before, asked him about how he knew he was capable of something like that, and if he knew what happened when he tried to light his wings on fire. 

“Power strength comes from beliefs. If you believe you can do it, it will happen,” Seokmin explained, drawing something on the board while Wonwoo and Chan sat at the nearest table, listening to everything he had to say. “Then, of course, status also has its values.” — “The moment you explained to me before, when your vision darkened and you felt physical pain on your wings when you tried to apply your powers on them, is something I wouldn’t be able to do. I haven’t seen the king do anything similar, either,” he stopped for a second and turned around to face his two friends. “Honestly, I’m not sure what it was or what you did at that moment, but it might be useful in the future.” 

“I’ll go to the castle library later and see if I can find anything similar,” Wonwoo proclaimed and Seokmin nodded. “No matter if you find anything or not, I believe the best you can do now is try it again. Try as many times as you need until you achieve it again and can see what you’re capable of.” 

Wonwoo wasn’t able to find anything during his search party in the library but it didn’t discourage him from following Seokmin’s advice. If he needed to repeat what he did a thousand times just to get the answers he craved, he would. 

He ends up settling near the stairway to heaven. He knows it’s risky, any of the angels could walk down any minute and he wouldn’t stand a chance, but the truth is, it’s dark under the lamp. 

It feels weird, like something has changed when he watches his wings. They look longer, wider and even though their color has turned back to black, for some reason they don’t feel like they are. But before he can ponder upon it more, his thoughts get interrupted by a little flame fired in his face. 

Wonwoo quickly blinks in shock, waving his hand in front of his face to blow away the smoke. “What the–” Another flame. This time, fired at his right wing. “Chan, if you followed me here–” His left wing receives the next hit. Before he can take another hit, he hides his wings again, annoyed as he narrows his eyes to see, expecting to meet his younger friend. 

“You’re not…” the shock on his face is obvious when his eyes set on a woman, one he doesn’t recognize. “Hands up.” He obeys, carefully examining the person in front of him. He blinks a few times as he takes the image of you in his eyes, trying to figure out what you were doing. 

“Who are you?” You ask, aiming at his left leg this time in case he would want to move. “As far as I know, demons aren’t exactly welcomed here.” You take a step forward, watching as his eyes move from one side to another, probably trying to find an escape route. “Who are you?” You question again, this time harsher. 

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and when he doesn’t give you an answer immediately, you fire at his face again. “Hey!” He complains, but your fire doesn’t leave any bruises. You doubt if he even feels any pain from it. “Wonwoo! My name is Jeon Wonwoo!” He admits when he notices another flame appearing in your hand. 

You scoff, “Of course you are.” 

Before he can ask what that’s supposed to mean, you come closer to him, grabbing his right horn and pulling him to the ground. “Your little game is over. You’re coming with me.” 

Wonwoo hisses when you touch his horn, his eyes closing on instinct. The fire before was annoying, that’s for sure, but this hurt like hell, so much that without having to apply much force, you brought him to his knees. “Wait, you–” You tug on his horn, making him look up at you and he shuts up again. “Stay quiet and I might be gentle,” you smile innocently and he gulps, trying to stay as calm as possible as he gazes into your eyes, a part of him finding pleasure in the way you touch him. This wasn’t going to end well.

You feel his stares on you the whole way back to your village, debating if you should slap him out of it or ignore him. Eventually, you decide on the latter, just hoping the fire ropes you created to tie him up would be enough to hold him. 

“What is that?” You turn around when you hear one of the guards’ voices behind you, tugging Wonwoo with yourself. “A demon I found in the mountains,” you explain, glancing up at him. You love how even though you have to look up at him, it feels like you have the upper hand now. “Go on, introduce yourself,” you encourage him proudly. 

When Wonwoo’s name leaves his lips, the guard’s expression changes. His eyes widen before narrowing again as he looks the demon up and down, stopping at the fire ropes you made. “How long will those last?” 

“A few hours, I don’t have enough power to keep it alive for longer.” He nods, calling over another guard. Wonwoo watches everything with caution, trying to remember the village layout as best as he can. “Take him to the cage in the back. We’ll inform your fiancé.” You hesitate for a second before nodding and turning around, refusing to give them enough time to examine your face. 

“Who was–” 

“It’s better you don’t ask many questions,” you interrupt him, not sparing him a glance. You notice a few people looking out of their window to see what’s going on but you don’t look at them either. Involving as little people as possible is the key right now. 

“Is everyone here a fire fairy?” He turns his head towards you, watching the people around. You don’t answer him but he figures out the answer is no when he catches a glimpse of a little boy showing off to his friends by creating a snowflake in his hand. “Where are you taking me?” No answer again. “Why do you know who I am? And why did those guards know who I am?” 

You sigh when he doesn’t give up, stopping in the middle of the road. “How about you shut up, follow me, and then ask questions. If you don’t piss people off, maybe they’ll give you answers.” 

“What people?” You glare at him and he closes his mouth again. He doesn’t say anything afterwards and you learn to appreciate the silence. You wouldn’t have guessed the demon prince known for his closed-off attitude could get on your nerves so much, but sometimes, we can’t see into the future. 

That’s something Wonwoo proves to you a lot in the upcoming days. 

Wonwoo grunts when you practically push him inside one of the cages, locking the door behind him before he can turn around. He sighs and steps closer, grabbing the metal bars and leaning forward to prove how tired he is. You scoff at his action, taking a step back. “Care to give me my answers now?” 

You stay quiet, smirking which creates a grin on his face. “So this is how you want to play?” 

“I don’t need to play anything,” you shake your head with a smile. “As far as I know, you’re the one locked up.” 

There is a hint of amusement behind his smile as he watches you, unable to take his eyes off you. “Who are you?” He questions. You stay still for a second, trying to read him the best you can before you decide to share your name with him, figuring out there is nothing he can do with that information. “And this fiancé of yours?” He continues his questionnaire, making you roll your eyes at the hint of mockery in his voice, almost as if he didn’t believe you could have a partner. “Wait and see,” you shrug, unbothered. 

He continues asking you one question after another, and you eventually give up, sharing with him whatever he asks for. You explain how the angels approached you before and asked for a small help with keeping their territory safe, how Jeonghan himself explained to the selected group of people what happened that morning in heaven, but you leave out the fact you know about his new found powers—the ones he still doesn’t know how to get under control yet. 

“How many people know about me?” You open your mouth to brush him off and tell him you won’t disclose that information but before you can do so, another fairy interrupts you. “I think that’s enough bonding for now, don’t you?” You turn your head towards the voice, your lips curling up into a smile when you land your eyes on the ice prince. “Your highness,” you bow slightly and it makes him chuckle as he comes up to you, cupping your cheeks in his hands and making you look up. “Hi, love,” he smiles, pressing his lips on yours. 

Wonwoo coughs to interrupt you and you scoff. “Prince Wonwoo himself,” you introduce your prisoner and the proud grin on your fiancé’s face makes you smile. “Great job, darling,” he praises you, quickly glancing at the two guards following him to dismiss them. “For sure, darling,” Wonwoo mocks, barely sparing the prince a glance. You don’t react to his comment, ignoring him and letting the fairy prince speak instead. 

“My name is Minghao,” he introduces himself with a slight bow. Wonwoo hesitates for a second before bowing too, deciding to declare respect to the prince even though he is currently keeping him imprisoned. “I hope she didn’t cause you too much discomfort while bringing you here, that would be very unfortunate,” he quickly glances your way at the mention of you before returning his full attention to the demon. 

Wonwoo frowns at how painfully fake Minghao sounds but he doesn’t say anything. He knows if the situation was turned around he wouldn’t behave much differently. 

“She took great care of me,” he grins, slowly looking down at the bars he is still holding onto for the effect before speaking again. “But ever since I came to the village my experience wasn’t the greatest,” he tries to shake with the bars to prove his point but it only makes the fairy prince chuckle. 

“I’m sorry about that, but there is nothing more I can do for you. I fear this is how you’ll have to stay for a while. At least until Jeonghan—or any other angel—comes to take over.” 

“So you plan on giving me up to the angels? I see.” 

Minghao hums, and it tools like he is thinking about something. “I mean, there isn’t much more to do with you, is there?” When he looks at Wonwoo again there is a hint of amusement in his eyes and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, as if he knew he has already won. It pisses Wonwoo off. 

“I guess not,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. 

“Love, will you look after him for now? I’ll talk to Jun and ask him to visit the angels as soon as possible. The less people know about him the better.” You nod even though you can’t say you’d look forward to spending more time with the demon. It’s not exactly like you have a choice anyway. If a prince orders you something, you listen without complaining. Even if it’s your own future husband. “I’ll see you later at dinner,” he says, kissing your forehead before leaving again. 

Wonwoo notices he doesn’t look at you while doing so, though. He is looking at him. 

Wonwoo sits on the ground, his back pressed against the iron fence while you sit on a chair near the cage, a book in your hands. 

“What is it about?” He wonders, his arms resting on his knees as he turns his head towards you. “Stuff,” you respond, flipping to another page. “Like?” He prompts. “Whatever you want to think it’s about,” you say, not paying much attention to him as your eyes scan the words on the page. “Hm,” he hums and when you finally think you might get a break from him, he speaks up again. “So you’re reading about a fairy being fucked by a demon.” 

“What?!” You turn your head his way immediately, slamming the book shut in embarrassment. However, the smirk you see on his face turns your flusteredness into frustration. You close your eyes, tilting your head slightly as you try to calm yourself down. He chuckles at your reaction, a part of him glad he is locked behind the bars when he sees you close your fist. He knows if he was outside with you at the moment, you would have punched him. 

“You said you’re reading whatever I think you’re reading,” he shrugs, trying to make it seem like he doesn’t fear you a bit. You sigh, shaking your head at him. 

“So is it not about that?” He asks, laughing when you glare at him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he raises his hands in defence, unable to constrain his laugh. 

“Who would have thought a prince could be such an idiot?” It’s you giving him a question this time, and even though it’s supposed to offend him, he smiles. “Who would have thought fairies—who I’ve been taught are these innocent creatures—would have the soul to lock up an actually innocent demon?” 

“You attacked the angels for no reason,” you remind him. “And you went there again, this time alone for some reason, to do what exactly?” Wonwoo doesn’t answer, knowing he can’t argue with that. “I was simply following orders.” 

“Alone?” You ask, raising your eyebrow at him. “A bit weird, don’t you think so?” 

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “But you don’t question the king.” You hum, the silence that follows louder than you’d like. 

“You know that was a suicide mission, right?” You finally speak again. He nods. “I’m not as stupid as you want me to be.” — “I’m also not as weak as you want me to be, though. Don’t underestimate me.” He brings a smile back to your face and it causes his lips to curl up too. 

“If you had just slightly over average mana, those fire ropes I made wouldn’t have stopped you from breaking away.” 

“Maybe I just didn’t want to run away.” 

You sigh, the smile still on your lips as you shake your head at him. You get up from your chair, throwing the book to him. “I’ll be back later. Use up your time and learn something so the angels don’t crush you immediately.” You catch his grin as he looks down at the book and when he raises his head to say something, you walk away with a slight wave of your hand. 

Wonwoo picks up the book you left him, his fingers tracing the cover as he reads the title. Fire guide and everything that comes with responsibility, advanced learners. He chuckles. “A story about a fairy and demon would have been more interesting,” he mumbles but still opens the book to see what’s inside. 

You stare at your plate, frowning at the ham and rice. The same thing you’ve been eating the whole week. “How is he doing?” You look up upon hearing your fiancé’s voice and place your fork aside again. “As well as a prisoner can, I assume.” Minghao nods, looking at you from across the table. “Jun promised to set off after dinner, Jeonghan should be here the first thing in the morning,” he informs you, a heavy sigh following right after. “When all of this is done, we can finally resume the wedding plans. Everyone is pushing me to have a descendant as soon as possible.” 

“Yes, of course,” you mumble with a nod. “Whatever the people need.” He calls out your name, a hint of pity in eyes as he looks at you. “I know this isn’t exactly what you wanted but I’m trying.” 

“I know,” you assure him, forcing a smile. “I was never meant to be out in the world anyway.” 

“I promise we’ll figure it out,” he tries to make you feel better, you know he is doing his best, but you can’t help but hate it. The only dream you ever had was to fight. Be useful and prove yourself to the other fairies, prove that just because you were a woman you didn’t need to revolve your life around a family. However, all your dreams came crashing down when you learnt what everyone planned for your life without asking you. 

You were barely five when you met Minghao for the first time. You were confused as to why the prince came down to the training room but didn’t ask many questions, not wanting to be rude. It was your dad who encouraged you to talk to the prince in the first place, but you’re sure it was all the king’s plan from the beginning. It made sense, the royal possessing ice powers and the daughter of the king’s personal knight who showed signs of great control over her powers since she was little. It was a great deal for both parties. 

At least until you showed interest in wanting to lead your life yourself and follow in your dad’s footsteps, offering to be the prince’s personal knight. It sounded foolish to everyone. Minghao never thought so, though. He was the only one cheering you on in your plans, convincing everyone you would do great if they just gave you the chance, even coming to the king to tell him how it would make the two of you closer and make your relationship easier. Eventually, thanks to his help, you managed to get what you always wanted. 

But ever since you became an adult, the public became more and more demanding about what your relationship with the prince should look like and everyone started doubting you again. They wanted you closed inside the fairies’ palace, away from the world outside to do nothing but raise the prince’s children. 

Minghao tried to be supportive as much as he could but once the pressure came down on his back too, he always chose to listen to the king’s orders, following what the people wanted. It was a miracle that you still got to keep your position as the royal knight, honestly. You knew how fragile your place was. One misstep and the next thing you’d know, you’d be locked in between those very four walls you were occupying right now. 

“I’m full,” you proclaim, not waiting for the maid to come pick up your plate or your fiancé to say anything before you stand up. You glance at him, feeling bad when you see the apologetic look he gives you. You want to be by his side, support him on his way to become the fairy king, but you can’t put him before yourself. “I’m going to train and stay outside for a while. No need to wait for me, you can go to bed before I come back.” 

You watch him open his mouth as he wants to argue with you, maybe even ask you to stay inside, but he closes his mouth again when he realizes what he was about to do. He knows he can’t do that to you. Not after everyone else already asked you to do that. 

“Be careful,” is what he settles for at the end and you nod to him. “Good night,” you smile, leaving the dining room and going straight to the outer gym. 

Swinging your sword around and attacking the wooden enemies was surprisingly more helpful than you thought. At first you just wanted to get out of the room for some fresh air, but when you picked up the weapon, you felt a lot more at ease than when you left the palace. This was your true calling, what you were meant to do. You couldn’t let anyone take it from you. 

You weren’t sure what time it was when you left the area, wandering through the village. You were jealous of everyone sleeping peacefully in the houses you passed. But you also felt a different emotion towards them—one just as strong. Anger. They were the cause of your problems in the first place. Hadn’t it been for their opinions on your and the prince’s situation, you might have been in the greatest relationship ever. 

You sigh as you reach the last house, looking up at the stars. You wondered what they thought of you, what they had planned for you. A part of you hoped that it was different from what the villagers intended. 

“Am I being dramatic?” You ask quietly, biting your bottom lip as you look for the answer in the night sky. You kick one of the rocks under your feet and look down again, taking one more lap around. 

“What are you doing?” You ask carefully, tilting your head to see better. You’re unsure why you decided to come here. You were already on your way back to the palace when you looked back, and as if he was pulling you towards him on purpose, you ended up going to check on your prisoner. 

“Is that the book?” You blink a few times to make sure you’re seeing things right, chuckling when you comprehend the situation happening in front of you. Wonwoo used his powers to create a small fire lamp once it has gotten dark and has been reading your book. 

He flinches, the fire going off as he loses focus. “Fuck, you scared me,” he mumbles when he turns his head to you. He lights up the fire lamp again and presses his back against the metal bars, closing the book to focus his full attention on you. “Why are you awake, and here?” 

“‘Cause,” you mumble, walking closer to him casually. “Let me guess, troubles in paradise?” He laughs, making you roll your eyes. “He can’t be any good for you.” 

“Because you know me and him so well, right,” you scoff at his comment, debating why you decided to come here again. You already regretted it. “I don’t need to know you or him. I have eyes.” You don’t say anything and he takes it as his cue to continue talking. “This is all I’ve been doing my whole life. Watching people. I might not know the reason,  but you don’t have the spark in your eyes when you look at him.” 

“I do,” you argue but your voice sounds broken, as if he had hit a weak spot. “You want to,” he corrects. “You don’t.” 

“You don’t know me,” you remind him but he only chuckles. “Fine, then let me get to know you.” 

“Why?” You frown, trying to read his face. It didn’t make sense. His attentiveness, attempts to get closer to you, and neither did his calmness. He was locked up, knowing you were going to bring him to the angels the next day, so why did he look so unbothered by it? You couldn’t quite figure out what was going on through his head. 

“We have the whole night ahead of us,” he shrugs. “And it doesn’t look like you’d want to go to sleep anytime soon.” You stay quiet, trying to think about what to do. He is right, you don’t want to go back to the palace and fall asleep on the bed next to your fiancé, but was staying here and spending the night talking to the person you captured just mare hours ago a good idea? 

“Fine,” you agree, prompting him to start. “If you don’t bore me to death with your talking then I might stay and tell you something about myself too.” 

You soon get reminded the world isn’t just black and white. Wonwoo tells you about why they allegedly went to attack the angels in the first place, about the monster attacks that have been happening in the past months. You recall those. You had looked into them with a few of the other knights and after talking to a few people, you came to the conclusion that it was demons behind those attacks. 

Turns out, you were wrong all along. According to him, it was the angels who caused all those troubles, framing the demons out of spite and nothing more. That was the first step to starting a war, and the demon king didn’t let the change pass by him, immediately planning their next move with his knights. 

“It wasn’t for nothing.” 

“I see,” you nod even though you’re not certain starting a fight like this has been the best idea. 

“I don’t think fighting was necessary, no battles ever are really, but I couldn’t just disobey the king’s orders. None of the guys could,” he mumbles, sighing when he remembers all the bodies the mission caused them to leave behind. 

“You’re right,” you smile slightly. “I get that more than you’d think, actually.” Wonwoo hums, questioning what you mean with his eyes. 

And just like that, it ends up being you talking his ears off next. You tell him about your fiancé, how your parents set you two up when you were little and about how even though you adore Minghao, you have been questioning everything lately. 

“You should keep fighting,” he comments, grabbing your book again. He stares at the title, brushing off the dirt on it before handing it to you through the bars. “You have free will, do what you want to do.” 

“That’s the thing, I don’t have the option to just do what I want,” you argue. “I thought I did, that I could satisfy everyone and still do what feels right, but they exclude each other. I can’t be a mother to the kids everyone wants me to have and fight in the front lines at the same time.” 

“Why not?” 

“It’s not what the people believe in.” 

“Then change their beliefs.” He says it so casually, as if it was easy to do. But it’s far from that. 

“As you see, I’m a prince and yet, I’m being the only one in the front line at the same time.” You’re not sure if it was his attempt to make a joke out of his situation, but it makes you chuckle anyway. “I should take you as my role model then.” 

“Oh, for sure,” his laugh fills your ears and you watch him with a smile on your face. For some reason, sitting here with him in the middle of the night, talking about things you never even mentioned to your fiancé feels…right. It’s casual, neither of you expecting anything else from the other one. It’s a nice chance for once. 

As you continue chatting about nothing and everything, you feel your heart sinking the more time passes. The more time you spend with him, the worse you feel about what’s supposed to happen when the sun rises again. You begin to think you don’t want to let go of him. 

“I honestly didn’t think I could get so close to them,” Wonwoo says, a smile spread across his lips as he talks about his friends. “I guess it’s true that the right people always come into your life when you least expect it.” It sounds cliché and it makes you roll your eyes when you see the look he gives you, but deep down you’re thinking the same thing. A part of you always hoped for someone like that, and now that you were slowly giving up on them, Wonwoo showed up, with his stupid dark eyes that seemed to read you perfectly. 

“I’m sorry, Won,” you whisper when you avert your gaze from him and gaze at the night sky. He hums confusedly, scanning you with his eyes before he shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he answers, the back of his head resting against the metal bars behind him as he looks at the stars with you. “It’s not your fault. You’re only following orders.” 

You bite your bottom lip until it starts to bleed to get your mind to focus on the pain instead of what was going to happen, but when you glanced at the man beside you, the guilt overtakes you again. For the first time in your life, you doubt the orders you received and question yourself. You should have never agreed to talk to him. You never should have come here and let your guard down. Hadn’t you done that, you’d have no problems taking him to the angels. 

“You’re bleeding,” he comments softly, raising his hand up to your face. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and for a second, he makes you forget about everything. You gaze into his eyes and he quickly pulls his hand back to his side, realizing what he’s done. “Sorry,” he mumbles but you barely register his words. 

There is a moment of silence that follows, the tension building up as you gaze into each other’s eyes, both of you forgetting about the world around you as you wait for the other person to make the first move. 

Eventually, it’s Wonwoo who moves first, turning his body to face you and casually moving closer. The iron fence around him hasn’t pissed him off as much as it did now since you locked him there. 

You try to breathe but it feels like the air gets stuck in your throat as you grab onto the metal bars and he places his hands on top of yours. He looks up at you, still sitting on the cold ground while you stay in your place on your chair. So close yet so far. 

You hear something rustle near you and immediately pull your hands away, finally able to breathe as you bring your mind back to reality. You have a fiancé you love, you remind yourself. Yet, you can’t help but steal glances at the boy beside you. You question what you’re doing here again. There is a handsome man waiting for you in your shared bed, so why do you keep sitting outside with this demon? 

“I should– I should go,” you proclaim, quickly standing up. A wave of guilt runs through you when the whole situation comes crashing down to you and you try to avoid his disappointed look as you walk past him to get back to the palace. 

Still, you can’t help it and glance back once more.

You try to sleep, you really do. You do your best but no matter how much you try, you only keep turning around, unable to turn off your head. You groan, getting up again and staying as quiet as possible so you wouldn’t wake up your fiancé. He seemed to have no trouble sleeping. 

You walk to the nearest window in the room, opening it so the cold air could hit your face. The sun is slowly rising up and as you watch the sky gain more colors, your mind becomes even more of a mess. “For fucks sake,” you curse under your breath, closing the window again and looking around the room to find your clothes. 

“You’re stupid, annoying, bothersome and absolutely screaming trouble,” you babble, your feet rushing towards the cage faster than they ever did. Wonwoo looks confused as he watches you, frowning as he accidentally kicks into the iron fence while stretching his legs. “What are you doing?” 

“I don’t know,” you respond, unlocking the cage. You really don’t. You’re not sure what has gotten into you but you don’t have the time to question it. “Get up,” you command and it takes him a second to process what is happening. He quickly stands up, a part of him hoping he isn’t reading you completely wrong and you aren’t planning on taking him to the angels yourself. 

“You–” 

“Be quiet and follow me,” you order, looking around to make sure there isn’t anyone nearby. “Before I regret it,” you add, finally meeting his eyes. You grab his arm, pulling him with yourself as you try to rush to the forest behind the village. He stops you. “Wait, you can’t.” You try to make him move again but he is too heavy for you. You groan, letting go of his arm. “Can’t you just listen to me for a second? I need to get you out of here before Hao wakes up. I don’t know how much time we have left.” 

He gazes into your eyes, a deep sigh leaving his lips. He wants to go, live, but his head can’t win a fight with his heart. He can’t let you do this. Your name leaves his lips and your heart feels heavy. “Lock me back up. Go to bed and live your life.” 

You hesitate, unable to look away from him. “That’s what I’m trying to do,” you say, grabbing his hand again with pleading eyes. “So, please. Come with me.” 

Wonwoo’s heart skips a beat when your words reach his ears and all his initial worries and plans to make you come back to your fiancé disappear. He tugs on your hand, pulling you closer with ease. Your body presses against his due to the movement and you try your best not to freak out at the sudden intimacy. 

He isn’t sure what has come over him but his hand moves up to your cheek, his thumb brushing over it softly. You gaze into his eyes, trying to figure out what is going on in his mind, but before you can read him fully, he leans down to you, his lips brushing against yours slightly. It’s not a full kiss but your breath shakes nonetheless, sending shivers down his spine. 

You never imagine there would be a time in your life where you’d be kissing someone other than Minghao, yet, here you are, pushing your lips against Wonwoo’s urgently, your right hand moving up to the back of his neck where you tug at his hair slightly, causing a light moan to escape his lips. 

“W-wait,” you pull away, your left hand squeezing his biceps as he holds you close to himself by your waist. “I– I have a fiancé,” you say but do nothing to get away from him. Wonwoo smirks, squeezing your waist tighter. “Oh, yeah?” He coos, watching as your cheeks turn red. “Then why are you here?” Because you make me feel seen and alive. You stay quiet, and his smirk grows wider. 

You try to open your mouth and say something, anything to brush that smirk off his face, but when the muffled voices reach your ears, you know there is no time for that. He nods to you, turning around to try and see how much time left you had. “Wait, I need to do one more thing,” he proclaims, running back to the cage. He picks up your book and throws it your way before flaming at the lock, making sure his escape would look like an accident. 

“Come on, we need to run,” you hurry him, grabbing his hand as soon as he is close enough. You’re not sure yet if this is something you’ll regret later but you don’t care. This might have been exactly what you needed in your life all along. 

The warmth of Wonwoo’s hand keeps you calm as you run through the forest, each of your steps ringing in your ear as a reminder of what you were doing. 

“Can’t we slow down now?” He asks but it feels like talking to a wall. He sighs, squeezing your hand tighter with a slight pull to stop you. You stumble on your feet, sending a glare his way. He laughs quietly, stopping completely. “Come here,” he mumbles and you watch him hesitantly. You step closer to him after a bit of thinking, biting the inside of your cheek as he smiles at you. 

Wonwoo looks down at you, finding himself falling into your eyes as you look up at him. He wishes he could engrave the image into his head and be able to look at it at any time. “We can’t slow down now,” you break the silence carefully. He shakes his head, “We can.” 

“I need a break,” he proclaims and you raise an eyebrow at that. Were his physical abilities that bad? “Something that would take my mind off things,” he adds, the look in his eyes suggestive as he closes the space you left out between the two of you, brushing off a few hair strands off your face with his fingers to see you better. You gulp as you realize what he has in mind, anticipation slowly building up in you. 

“Wonwoo,” you breathe out his name, creating a smile on his lips. “Yeah?” He coos softly, staying in place which somehow drives you more crazy than if he had closed the space between you completely. “You’re terrible,” you curse at him, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling him down so you could reach him. 

Your lips crash onto each other within seconds, the kiss full of need and lust neither of you are able to explain with words. His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, his fingers digging into your flesh as he searches for more, anything that could provide him some extra pleasure. 

“We really–” The rest of your sentence gets swallowed as he kisses you again, unable to let go. He smirks against your lips when you leave out a moan, the grip you have on his shirt tightening. You pull away, ignoring his disagreeing whine and pushing him away with all the power you have. “We need to keep moving,” you state, refusing to play this game of his. “Let’s go.” 

Wonwoo mumbles some quiet curses under his breath but obeys, letting you lead the way as you wander through the forest, trying to find the quickest but also most discreet way back to the demon kingdom. 

“Are you sure that is where you want to go?” He asks, hesitant. The king’s orders were clear: don’t come back unless you’ve made a mess with the angels. “Where else would we go? The angels? I don’t think so,” you respond, only looking forward as you follow the road under your feet. He sighs, rethinking his opinions. “We could just stay out here, somewhere. Go to the beach, or maybe blend in somewhere near the humans,” he offers and you stop again, turning around to face him. “Are you serious right now?” 

You sigh, looking around and running your hand through your hair as you try to think. “Look, I know the king sent you on this unreasonable mission but we need to get you back to where you’re safe. The angels might not be actively looking for you, but I’m sure Minghao is. He’ll realize we are together sooner or later.” 

He knows you’re right, that you can’t just stay out here, but the thought of sneaking back into the kingdom scares him more than he’d want to admit. “You’re right,” he nods after a second of silence. “Let’s continue and figure things out as we go.” 

You smile at him, giving him a reassuring nod before you hold his hand again, resuming your plan. 

Wonwoo stops when he hears muffled voices coming from somewhere on his left. You share a glance with him confusedly but he doesn’t explain anything as he tries to make sense of what he hears. “Surely not…” he mumbles, narrowing his eyes and trying to capture the movements nearby. He scoffs, finding it unbelievable as he sets his eyes on two male figures. 

“What is it?” You ask, looking the same way he is. When you spot two men in the distance you quickly create a fireball in your hand, the same one you attacked Wonwoo with when you first met. “Wait, no need,” he stops you before you can fire their way. “These two aren’t dangerous,” he laughs quietly, watching them with a smile on his face. 

“Finally!” The shorter one yells excitedly, running towards the two of you, his friend right behind him. “We thought you were dead!” 

You watch them cautiously while Wonwoo greets them as if they were old friends and then it finally clicks. You redirect your attention to the blond one, tilting your head slightly. “Lee Chan?” You question and he looks your way, nodding. “And that is Seokmin?” You guess and this time it’s Wonwoo that nods, his grin growing wider at the thought of you actually listening to what he was talking about before. 

“And you are…?” Seokmin asks carefully when he reaches you, sending a knowing look towards Wonwoo before you can even answer. You introduce yourself shortly, also explaining how you found yourself here with the demon prince when they ask you. “I see,” Seokmin nods, chuckling a bit when he looks at his friend again. “Looks like you’ve had fun while we were searching for you.” 

“If your view of fun is being locked up in a cage then of course.” 

“You didn’t seem to complain much before,” you tease him, finding amusement in the way Wonwoo can’t hide his smile when he looks at you, memories of the previous night vivid in his head. “How could I when I had this pretty fairy next to me?” He teases you right back, watching your cheeks turn red. 

Chan clears his throat to remind you they were still there and you avert your eyes from the prince, embarrassed. “Uhm…” Chan starts when he has your attention again, quickly exchanging a glance with Seokmin. The switch in the atmosphere is immediate, and your smile disappears off your face even quicker when you notice the pitiful look in the blond’s eyes. Whatever he wanted to say next was going to hit. 

“There is something you should know about,” Seokmin proclaims and Wonwoo’s eyes quickly flick between his two friends, his eyebrows raised in confusion. “The king…” he hesitates, trying to find the right words for the message he was bearing. “Shortly after you left yesterday, he ordered for Misoon to be killed,” he admits, the words barely above a whisper. Yet, Wonwoo hears them better than anything else before. She was– She– He froze, starting to feel dizzy as the words ring in his ears. Everything around him becomes blurry, the voices of his friends muffled as he tries to regain his composure. 

“We were all shocked, some of the guys asked too many questions and he–” Seokmin pauses, the pity in his eyes changing to worry as he catches the switch in Wonwoo, debating on if he should continue or not. “He dismissed all of us, said the knights won’t be needed for a while now. He told the public our latest mission was successful and there was nothing to worry about now. And as far as we know, Monsoon’s death was…masked as an accident,” he continues even though he isn’t sure Wonwoo is still listening. 

You catch the change in the demon’s eyes as well, carefully squeezing his hand in yours, trying to find the right words to say. Wonwoo turns his head towards you slowly, blinking as he tries to make sense of the situation, figure out what was the reasoning behind all of this. “I’m…I’m fine,” he says, shaking his head slightly as if it could help him shake off all the information too. 

“It’s okay not to be fine,” you assure him, your thumb moving in slow circles on the top of his. You watch him bite the inside of his cheek as he holds himself back, his eyes flickering to his two friends next to him and then back to you. You nod, somehow understanding the small movement. You know it’d be a lot easier to comfort him if they weren’t around, if you could just pull him into a hug, but you know Wonwoo doesn’t want that. Not now with them watching the two of you. You understand, and don’t push him. 

“It’s been a mess,” Chan mumbles carefully, staring at the ground beneath his feet. “And we thought it’d be better to let you know that before we get back.” The demon prince nods, the grip he has on your hand becoming tighter as if he searched for your support through it all anyway. “Thanks,” he whispers, doing his best to hold up. Not only in front of them, but also you. 

The thought rushes through him so fast he barely gets a chance to catch it, but when he does, it’s like a reminder of what he is doing at the moment. Why were you here again? No matter how strongly drawn to you he fell, he didn’t know you. You didn’t know him and yet, here you were, holding his hand and trying to help him accept everything his friends just told him. He glances your way, the sincerity piercing through your eyes as you exchange eye contact with him before turning to the two knights beside him, saying you should get moving again. 

They both hesitate, as if they weren’t sure if it was the right thing to do. “She is right,” Wonwoo speaks up quietly, remembering what he was hiding from. “There is an annoyed fairy prince somewhere behind us that wants to give me to the angels and watch me die,” a chuckle leaves his lips as he finishes but he isn’t sure why. There is nothing funny about it, he knows that. Yet, he can’t control it. 

Seokmin and Wonwoo share a brief glance, telling each other everything they need with their eyes before the younger man wraps his arm around Chan’s shoulder, forcing him to walk first with him in order to give you and the prince space. 

You stay silent at first, not sure what you should say. You didn’t know who Misoon was, or why it mattered so much to him that she was dead now, but you didn’t have the heart to ask either. You didn’t know how to comfort him, tell him everything would be okay again without sounding off. It felt like it wasn’t your place to do so. 

Wonwoo seems to catch the hesitance you feel as he walks with you, following right behind his friends. You seem tense no matter how he looks at it. A sigh leaves his lips, causing you to look up at him. “She…raised me,” he whispers softly as if he was reading your mind. “Misoon was like a mother to me, especially after my biological passed away,” he admits and your eyes widen, suddenly feeling worse about the situation. 

“I’m sorry, Won,” you whisper, giving his hand a firm squeeze. A smile tugs in the corner of his lips as he watches you. He doesn’t question why you’re there anymore. He might not know you fully yet, but he knows he’d be a fool to let you get away. 

“I just wish there would be a way for you to make me feel better…” he leans down to you, his hot breath landing softly on your ear and sending shivers down your spine. He glances at his two friends again and then back at you. “Something that would really take my mind off things.” 

It’s more than obvious what he’s suggesting and you have to bite your bottom lip in order not to give him the reaction he wants. As much as you’d love to help him out, you’re not sure if it’d be a good idea. Not only because of the guys accompanying you, but also the current state of his. You couldn’t just give him your body as a tissue. 

“Wonwoo…” His name leaves your lips and you turn to him, examining his face. You stop after a moment of hesitation, sighing. “Don’t do this.” 

“Do what?” He asks, the smile still on his lips. Yet, it feels forced the more you look at it. 

“Turning off. That’s what you’re doing right now.” He blinks a few times, trying to make sense of your words. “You’re turning off your head, your emotions just so you wouldn’t have to deal with the pain.” 

“I’m not doing that,” he disagrees and you exhale again. “Yeah? Then explain why you’re behaving like this? It’s okay to be sad, to be emotional over this,” you remind him and he frowns. “You can’t just act like nothing happened and fuck your emotions into me.” 

He hears you, he really does. He knows you’re right and can see where you’re coming from, but the moment you finish, he can’t help it and imagine how good that’d feel. With you bent over one of the large stones on the side of the road, your pants with your gear on the ground as he slams his hips against yours, his mind on you and you only. He imagines the pretty sounds you’d make under him, screaming his name while he bites your shoulders from behind, leaving love bites all over your body. 

His dick twitches at the mare thought of it and he is sure to lose his mind soon. 

“Are you serious?” You ask, your eyes falling to the growing bulge in his pants. “I’m sorry,” he groans, averting your eyes as he looks for his friends to make sure they aren’t looking your way. “But it really isn’t about my head turning off, or avoiding things,” he proclaims, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I want you so bad, and I’d want you no matter the situation.” 

The words mean nothing but horny blabs as he searches for some pleasure, you know that, and yet, they make you feel some sort of way. He looks somehow sincere as he gazes into your eyes, the words feeling like a confession when they leave his lips. 

You shake your head slightly, trying to think of a solution. You just can’t let him walk around the forest with a boner, can you? “Stay quiet,” you warn him, pointing to the side of the road to signal for him to go there. He tries to find answers in your eyes, anything that would help him figure out if you were going to fulfil his fantasies or let him suffer by himself, but he sees nothing. Still, he nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. 

As if he knew something was off, Seokmin turns around to talk to Wonwoo to get his mind off things, but when he doesn’t see him or you behind them, he stops. He looks around, closing his eyes in realization when he notices you running off to the forest, somewhere where he or Chan couldn’t bother you and play the third wheel. 

“What is it?” The blond turns around as well, confusedly looking at his friend when he doesn’t see you or his prince anywhere. “We better wait for them, this might take a moment,” Min sighs, exchanging a look with Chan before he points to a fallen tree on the other side of the road where they could wait. 

You don’t say anything as you push Wonwoo on one of the trees, pressing your lips on his before he can complain, his arms wrapping around you in an instance, the bulge in his pants pressing against you as he pulls you closer. His hands wander under your shirt, quickly squeezing your breast as if you were to disappear any second. 

You whine into the kiss, unbuttoning his pants to give him what he was craving so much. He tries to do the same, his hands moving to pull down your pants but you quickly press your palm on his chest, stopping him. “You’re not getting everything,” you proclaim and something in his eyes switches. “Don’t be too greedy and just let me take care of it, alright?” He nods, too lost in the moment to be able to argue with you. 

He imagined this differently—he thought it’d be him taking the lead, guiding you through everything as he had no hope for your fiancé to be anyone who’d know how to show you any pleasure—but he couldn’t say he’d mind how things turned out. Honestly, he’d let you take the lead anytime if that was what you wanted. 

You tease him through the fabric of his underwear, proudly smiling as you listen to his moans while squeezing his cock softly, his pre-cum starting to leak through the thin layer that was still covering him. “You look a bit broken,” you mumble, smirking as you watch him throw his head back, trying to keep the sounds leaving his mouth as quiet as possible. “Your—fuck—your fault,” he manages to say between broken moans. 

“Oh yeah?” You tease him, finally pulling down his underwear and letting his hard-on breathe. “My fault? Weren’t you the one basically begging me to let you fuck me?” He asks, palming his length slowly. Too slow. He quickly catches your wrist in his hand, leaning down and resting his forehead on your shoulder. You chuckle, your free hand running through his hair. “‘S okay,” you coo, resuming your movements when he slowly lets go of your hand. 

It’s that moment when he realizes he was so incredibly wrong. About you, your experience, but also about himself. Because now that he has you so close, gliding your hand up and down his cock, he admits to himself something he thought he’d never do—he didn’t want to take the lead. He wanted to obey you, do whatever you tell him to and be good for you. 

Oh god. He closes his eyes as he slowly thrusts his hips towards your hand, chasing for more. He was in so much trouble. 

As you walk back to meet with Seokmin and Chan, you feel a bit awkward. You’re not sure how long you’ve been there but you know it changed your whole view on Wonwoo. Somehow, you wanted him even more than before now. Something about him, the way he clung to you, whined at your touch and now followed you as if he was your puppy, made your head spin in a way you didn’t know you could feel. 

Wonwoo clears his throat, avoiding making any eye contact with the guys. “Sorry we– We thought we heard something so we went to check it out, turns out it was just a wild animal.” 

“Oh yeah?” Seokmin starts, not letting him brush it off so easily. “What animal?” Wonwoo hesitates, trying to remember what animals lived in this region of Aethera. “Don’t worry,” he shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I think I know what animal has gotten wild,” he jokes and the way both of you turn red is embarrassing. 

Chan laughs at the sight, shaking his head as he stands up. “Let’s keep going, we need to get as far as possible before the sun sets.” You nod slightly, swallowing a lump in your throat as you quickly glance at Wonwoo before averting your gaze again, focusing on the task at hand. 

As the sun sets down and you reach an empty cave, you all agree to settle down for the night. “Min, can you help me out?” Wonwoo asks as he stops at the entrance. It’s not a question towards you but you still feel curious, your eyes flicking from one boy to the other as they leave the cage together, not bothered enough with explaining themselves. 

Chan seems to catch your glances because as he helps you make a fire that will keep you guys warm through the night, he speaks up. “Don’t worry about them, whatever it is that they are doing I don’t think it’s anything to be scared of.” You hum with a nod, brushing your hands together as you stand up again once you’re done. 

You hesitate as you watch the blond, biting the inside of your cheek and wondering if the question you’re about to ask isn’t too insulting. “Uhm…” you start and he immediately looks up at you, his eyebrows raised in question. “What is it?” He wonders, his voice soft. “The demon king…” you furrow your eyebrows as you try to find the right words. “Don’t you think he’s a bit, well, unreasonable? Cruel? I mean, why would he send his own son on an impossible mission? Alone on top of that.” 

Chan’s eyes soften when you finally ask what’s been bothering you, his eyes trailing off to the ground again as he thought about his answer. “I can’t disagree with that,” he mumbles, raising his head again. “Honestly, he is probably worse than what you think, but we need a king no matter what. And since Wonwoo hasn’t shown any interest in taking over…we never had a choice. It is what it is, I guess,” he shrugs, standing up slowly. 

“I’m not sure what goes through His Majesty’s head, no one does, I think, but I’d like to look at it from the brighter side. Now that Wonwoo found someone, it’ll be much easier for him to become our king when we come back,” he smiles, so genuinely you don’t even register his words at first. 

But then it hits you. Now that Wonwoo found someone. Your eyes widen when the words ring in your ears but before you can say anything, Chan is on his way out to find the other two. 

Has he found someone who was going to help him take over the throne? Did you manage to run away from your fiancé who was holding you back on your every step just to fall into the same thing all over again, this time, with a demon? You hated just the thought of that. The suffocating feeling of having to deal with that—the limitation, all over again made you sick. 

You looked around the cave, debating if this wasn’t your sign. Everyone was gone, no one would notice if you just left. Maybe you should, maybe you’d be much happier if you ran away again, somewhere where no one knows you and you could do whatever you want. 

The thought crossed your mind, staying there until you shook your head and took a deep breath in an attempt to make it go away. Because as much as you know you’d love the freedom it would get you, you can’t. You don’t have the courage to just leave without a single word. Wonwoo had you wrapped around his finger without even knowing, and for some reason, you didn’t even mind. 

“Hey,” Seokmin’s voice makes you turn around. You raise your eyebrows confusedly, “Hi?” You watch him hesitate and glance behind himself before he speaks again and it makes you even more curious about what he and Wonwoo were doing. “I think we might need your help, he can’t focus,” he says simply, waiting for you to leave with him without saying anything else. 

You follow him out, your eyes widening immediately when you see Wonwoo’s full form, his wings out with his tail slowly swinging in the back. You’ve seen a few demons before but there was something different about him. His wings touched the ground and his horns were suddenly longer than before. Yet, it wasn’t the first thing you noticed. The biggest difference was in his eyes—they had turned dark red. You furrow your eyebrows as you try to see through them, only being met with the same hunger he’s been looking at you with since earlier. 

“What’s–” You barely get to blink before Wonwoo interrupts you with a sigh, saying he can’t clear his head well enough. “Okay but…what are you doing?” 

“Exploring his powers,” Seokmin answers instead, walking around you to grab one of the small rocks on the ground. “Chan,” he says softly, and as if on cue, the blond fires at the stone, breaking it apart with ease. “This is something most of—if not all—demons can do but Wonwoo…” he trails off, picking a bigger rock this time and throwing it at the demon prince. He catches it, lighting it up on fire with ease. The rock doesn’t break in his hands, it just keeps flaming. “This is nothing compared to what he is fully capable of, but it’s still better than a lot of demons can do.” 

“And you acted so immersed when you read through my book,” you scoff slightly, watching as his lips curl up into a smile right after. “It showed me what you were capable of,” he shrugs simply and you shake your head at him. 

“So, let me guess,” you start, walking closer to the demon prince to fix his shirt. “You guys are attempting to do what he did when he was fighting the angels before? That weird state?” Seokmin and Wonwoo blink a few times, confusedly exchanging a look together. “How do you…” 

“Jeonghan,” you explain, softly smiling at the boy in front of you before you take a step back again. “He told me and three other fairies when he came to ask us for protection from the demons. I was curious what it looked like.” 

Chan steps back while Seokmin gets closer to the prince, carefully touching one of Wonwoo’s wings. “They grew a lot after it happened,” he says, pushing his own wings out of his body. “They were as big as mine before we left the kingdom.” Your eyes widen at the difference and you confusedly shoot a glance towards Chan. “That’s not…they’re twice as big now!” 

“And his eyes,” he points, continuing. “You noticed the chance, right?” You nod, carefully examining his body as you look for any other changes. Your eyes stop at his crotch, your cheeks slowly heating up as you begin to wonder if he had grown in other places as well. 

“You’re blushing,” Wonwoo points out and you immediately curse him out in your head. “No, I’m not,” you argue, clearing your throat as you look at the guys before you. “Okay, let’s see then,” you change the conversation immediately before he can have any more comments. “Show me this state you were in and maybe we’ll be able to figure it out together.” 

Wonwoo smiles at you, his heart skipping a beat as you lean your back against the tree behind you, carefully observing him, actually wanting to help out. 

He closes his eyes for a second, his wings twitching as he tries to light them up on fire, just like he tried back then when he fought the angels. You notice his tail swing with full force into the ground, almost as if it was protesting against it. You hum, trying to think of a solution. 

“Guys, can you leave me and Wonwoo alone for a bit?” You ask, causing them all to look your way. You feel all six eyes on you but don’t take your eyes off the prince, barely registering the two guys leaving. “They are gone,” Wonwoo says quietly and you hum again. “What was that for?” 

“I think you need to fire yourself up before you try to fire up something as large as,” your eyes flicker between the end of one of his wings to the other, “that.” 

“I’m doing that, though, no?” He questions and you take a step forward. “Just stay quiet and use your senses, okay?” He frowns but nods nonetheless, his eyes following your every movement as you walk closer to him. “Hearing,” you start, motioning for him to lean down so you could reach him. “Remember my hand on your cock,” you whisper, your breath landing just above his ear. He quickly turns his head to face you, almost embarrassed. “Trust me.” 

Wonwoo can’t quite understand what you’re trying to do or how it’s supposed to help him but he listens, closing his eyes again as his memory travels back to a few hours ago. He can still feel your fingertips on the tip of his cock as you teased him, the coos you whispered into his ear slowly coming back. No matter what you wanted to achieve with this, he couldn’t complain about your methods. 

He groans quietly, opening his eyes again when his dick twitches in his pants. “I’m getting hard again,” he mumbles, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes land on your half naked figure, your breast on full display for him. He swallows, hard. “What are you…” 

“Sight,” you whisper softly, smirking. “Oh, yeah?” There’s a smirk on his face now as well as he slowly realizes what you’re doing and he cups your cheek, leaning down again to place a kiss on your lips. “And what about touch?” He asks and you immediately guide his hands to your breast, letting him squeeze them however he wants. The groan that leaves his lips makes you feel hotter than it should, and you almost lose your mind when he mumbles into your kiss again, “and taste?” 

You pull away from him, hesitating for a second before you slowly trace your fingers under your pants, a moan escaping your lips as you push two of your fingers into your cunt, collecting your wetness on them as you finger yourself, watching his mouth fall open, unable to take his eyes off you. 

“Taste,” you say, bringing your fingers to his mouth. He doesn’t waste a second before his lips wrap around your finger, moaning as he gets the taste of you. You will be the death of him at some point, he was sure of that. “So fucking good,” he mumbles, his saliva dripping on your fingers as you pull them out. 

“You smelled my fingers too, right?” You blink at him innocently and his head spins as he nods, his clothed dick begging for release. “Now, then, close your eyes again.” He listens immediately and for a second you think about how easy it would be to play with him. He trusted you, maybe more than he should after knowing you for so little. 

Your eyes fell down to the bulge in his pants, certain that his body was on fire by now. “Try again. Focus on your wings, on what you want them to do,” you guide him softly, pulling your shirt back on as you start feeling the cold air hit your skin. 

He stands still, it might have been a few seconds, minutes, or even an hour. He wasn’t sure, honestly. But when he opened his eyes again, noticing Seokmin watching him with his eyes widened, he knew he had accomplished what he wanted to. He looks around, almost swinging his wing into you by accident. Thankfully, you manage to dodge it and laugh, your smile proud as he watches his wings—now flaming—in awe. 

“How did you know?” Chan turns his head to you and you shrug. “Jeonghan said senses–” you pause, tilting your head and closing your eyes as you realize what your next move needs to be. You turn to the small lamp hanging on the tree branch that lights up the place for you all to be able to see and then back at Wonwoo. “I know this might seem a bit insane, but I think we should go see Jeonghan in the morning.” 

The guys try to argue with you, telling you how badly that would go, but you brush them off with one shake of your head. “For some reason, he knows about Wonwoo and his powers more than any of us. If we want to figure this out…we need to.” They exchange a glance, knowing you are right. When no one says anything, Wonwoo extinguishes the fire again and hides his wings, his tail following right away with a sigh. “Let’s do it,” he agrees, nodding slightly. “Even if things go left, we have an addition to our team now,” he smiles at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. He doesn’t wait for his friends’ opinion, simply leading you back inside the cave. 

The night is cold to say the least, so it’s no surprise you find yourself cuddled up in Wonwoo’s arms while his two friends lay on the other side of the cave. You were confused why at first, but when Wonwoo sent them one glare that explained everything, you didn’t ask anymore. 

“This is…weird,” you mumble into his chest, his breath landing on the top of your head as his fingers make small circles on your back. You couldn’t remember the last time you laid like this with your fiancé, barely remembering what his touch felt like. It’s been weeks since you had the time for each other—he always blamed it on being either too busy or tired—and even though it felt like the spark between the two of you was disappearing, a part of you felt bad for lying like this with a different man now. 

“Hm?” Wonwoo hummed. “What is?” 

You raise your head slowly to look at him, your eyes softening when you gazed into his. Despite all that, the moment you see his face you can’t help but feel like it’s right. Like you’re exactly where you belong—in his arms. 

“Us,” you whisper, biting the inside of your cheek. “Don’t you think so?” He groans in response, watching you through his eyelashes. “No?” He waits a second, his eyes wandering all over your face, and you blink confusedly, trying to see what he is thinking. “This feels good, actually.” 

“Or do you really think otherwise?” He questions and for a second you think you might see a sign of vulnerability in his eyes. It takes you a second to think about it, but you shake your head in the end. “You know,” he clears his throat, pulling his hands away from you and resting them behind his head as he lays on his back, staring into the darkness. “Chan told me what you talked about before.” 

You don’t answer, so he continues. “I’d like to think I found someone,” he mumbles softly and Chan’s words ring in your ears again. “I don’t know what we are doing here or what it is between us, but it does feel good.” — “But that’s just how I see it,” he looks your way again, swallowing hard as his eyes drop to your lips. “That’s how I felt since you dragged me by my horn to the ground.” 

“That felt good?” You tease him, taking the chance to ease the atmosphere a bit. You aren’t sure if you want to hear what he says next, too scared to go through the same thing you did with Minghao again. “So fucking good,” he admits. You raise your hand to his head, your fingers softly running through his hair and then making their way back to the horn on his head. You wrap your hand around it, your breath shaking when you hear the groan that leaves his lips. 

He rolls over so he is on top of you, a smirk tugging in the corner of his lips. “The guys are just over there,” you say, the words barely above a whisper. “They are asleep,” he shrugs. “Wonwoo.” It’s meant to make him hesitate, realize that you shouldn’t, but instead, he leans down to your ear. “If you want me to stop so much, why are you still pulling at my horn?” 

He smirks when you don’t say anything, your cheeks gaining the color pink. “Maybe I don’t want to,” you mumble, watching as his eyebrows twitch every time you squeeze. It looks like he is trying to hold himself back, biting his bottom lip so no sounds would leave his mouth. “Good, because I don’t want to either,” he says, and before you can add anything else, his lips brush against yours. 

You pull him close, returning his kiss without hesitation. Your legs wrap around his waist, the space between you disappearing. “Can you stay quiet, though?” He asks and you smirk, giving his horn a tight squeeze again. “Can you, baby?” 

The nickname alone sends shivers down Wonwoo’s spine, not to mention the way you begin to pull his clothes off, your eyes needy. He really wants to be in charge, prove himself to you, but he already knows there isn’t a big chance at that when you switch your positions, sitting on top of him instead. 

“You’re quite desperate, don’t you think?” You tease, leaning down to his ear so he can know what it feels like. “First you get a boner just at me mentioning you fucking me and now you’re trying for it again? One might think you’re just a horny teenager.” 

“Or is it the demon genes?” You ask, kissing his neck and slowly moving down to his collarbone. “Do all demons have a high sex drive? Maybe just the royal ones?” 

He moans at your touch, quickly closing his mouth again in an attempt to keep it down. He can’t risk the guys waking up in the middle of this. Not only did he know he’d get teased about it for the rest of his life, but he also wouldn’t let them see you. Your naked body, wrapped with his, was for his eyes only. 

“Doesn’t matter, you won’t get to explore any other demons,” he says, making you chuckle. No matter how hot he is, you find him cute. You grind your hips on top of him, your hands resting on his chest. His eyes follow your every movement, his cock growing harder under you. You smile to yourself as his fingers tug at your shirt, begging for you to get it off. 

He moves quickly, getting rid of all your clothes as soon as possible so he could feel you fully on himself. “Please,” he whispers. You lean down again, catching his lips in yours as your hand wraps around his base, aligning him at your hole. As you slowly sit down on him, biting your bottom lip to keep yourself quiet, his hands find your waist, helping you get comfortable. 

Soon after you start moving again, your hands on his chest again for better control. You went slow, wanting to see his reaction. It was painfully obvious what he thought of that when you looked him in the eyes, his whole fighting with himself not to thrust his hips up against you. However, when you don’t speed up even after a while, he squeezes the flesh on your ass and thrusts you down onto him, harsh and fast. You gasp, your mouth falling open as he controls the speed, hitting the right spot. 

“You don’t–ngh–have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says suddenly in between groans, causing you to look down at him. It was a weird thing to say while you bounced on his cock. “What?” Your arms give up at the same moment and you fall onto his chest, glad he took over earlier. “We don’t have to–” he swallows the rest of his sentence as your nails dig into his shoulders, a whine escaping his lips. “Do the whole king and queen thing,” he continues, mumbling quiet curses in between. “I want you to do what you like, fight, sword-train, anything.” 

Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s talking about. He is coming back to your previous conversation. Your breath shakes as you bury your head in the crook of his neck, letting him talk. You’re so glad this is the position you’re in right now. You wouldn’t want him to see how watery your eyes get all of a sudden when he shows you he cares. 

“I just want you to be there with me. Us, together,” he thrusts his hips up after each word, sending you over the edge. You clench around him, another moan leaving his lips as he gets closer to his climax. “Al–Alright,” you agree, gasping when his cum fills you up and collapsing fully onto him afterwards. 

He rests his hands on your back, turning around so you’d both lay on your sides. “Alright?” He coos and you nod. He closes the gap between you again, pressing his lips on yours again while also forcing his wings up, covering your bodies with just one of his wings. He’ll worry about the clothes in the morning again. 

You snuggle closer to him, resting your head on his arm when he offers and closing your eyes. You can’t wait to find a river in the morning and wash yourself. 

You ignore the teasing glances from Chan and Seokmin as you leave the cave, Wonwoo right behind you. You have clothes on now, finally, but you can’t say it would have been the same when the two woke up and walked to you and Wonwoo to wake you up as well. Thank god Wonwoo covered you with his wing last night. 

“Wonwoo, are you coming with us?” Chan questions. Wonwoo immediately glances between his friends and you, trying to see what you thought. Going on a hunt for food with his friends or finding a river with you and then watching you shower? He had his preference clear, there was no questioning that. 

“Actually, I think I’m–” 

“Go with them,” you encourage him, chuckling when you see the hurt look on his face. You step closer to him, making him lean down as you go to whisper into his ear. “I know we established that you have a high sex drive last night, but I need to shower alone now to have enough energy for you later.” His breath hitches. You bite back your smile when he quickly turns his head to face you, sending him off with the guys. 

Seokmin wraps his arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder, saying something about going to take him under his wing. You’re not sure if he means it metaphorically or literally, but you chuckle anyway. You wave them off quickly, telling them to catch something delicious before turning around, setting off into the forest. 

“So,” Chan starts, a smirk on his face. Wonwoo frowns, already worried about what he would say next. “What’s up with you two? I mean, I knew there was something but that much?” 

He sighs, raising an eyebrow at his younger friend, as if to see if he was being serious with his question. “Why don’t you care about yourself more, hm?” Chan rolls his eyes, chanting, “Boring!!” with a laugh. Seokmin chuckles, shaking his head at him. “It’s your fault,” he comments and Wonwoo shifts his attention to him. “How so?” 

“If we didn’t see your buttcheek on full display this morning, he probably wouldn’t have brought it up at all,” Min explains, watching Wonwoo avert his eyes in embarrassment. “I don’t know why on earth you thought it was a good idea to come wake us up anyway,” he mumbles, looking at them again. Seokmin shrugs, unable to give a clear answer to that. 

“No, but seriously,” Chan pipes up again. “Should we be looking forward to, I don’t know, seeing her with you a lot when we get to the kingdom? Are you guys going to…you know, do what we’ve been all waiting for?” 

Wonwoo sighs. The thought of ruling the demons isn’t something he’d call exciting but he knows he has to. He can’t hide for much longer, stay in his room and pretend the throne doesn’t exist. Especially not when everyone seems to be counting on him so much. And, if you’re by his side during all that, maybe it won’t be that bad after all. 

“And he’s smiling,” Seokmin laughs, patting Wonwoo’s back. “If just the mention of being with her makes you this happy, you shouldn’t hesitate.” 

“We’ll take it at our own pace,” he proclaims eventually. “Well, considering you guys slept together after only knowing each other for like, what, two days, I think we can expect the wedding next week,” Chan laughs and Wonwoo rolls his eyes. 

He doesn’t say anything else after that, refusing to respond to his friends’ teases and questions about how the night with you was. The fact it was the best night of his life is something they don’t need to know. 

“How exactly do you want us to get there without running into any fairies or different angels?” Chan questions, leaning forward on the stone in front of him. “Well,” you start and Seokmin takes out his map of Aethera, telling his younger friend to move away so he can set it down. Chan groans but obeys, taking a step back. “You see the Little village? While I was on a mission last month, I stumbled in and that was where I saw Jeonghan for the first time. I’ve heard he’s got a lady there.” 

“So we’re just assuming he’ll be there? What if someone reports us? This isn’t only about us as demons attacking the angels, they probably couldn’t care less if we go visit the Little village or not, but you ran away with Wonwoo,” Chan points out. “For all we know, the fairies might think he kidnapped their future queen and are on a hunt for his head now.” 

“I’ve got a friend there, he’ll let us crash at his house and I’ll ask him to let us know when Jeonghan comes around,” you assure them, looking around to see if they are all still up for it. “Alright then,” Wonwoo nods, leaning on the stone, not caring about covering half of the map with his body. “We have a plan, so let’s not delay any longer.” 

And so, the four of you set off again, cutting the road through the forest to get to your destination as soon as possible. You walk in the back with Wonwoo again, carefully holding onto him every time the road ahead looks just a bit tricky. You didn’t think it was needed at first, but after you almost tripped over a tree root, he insisted. 

“So, this human friend of yours?” He starts and you raise an eyebrow at him confusedly, the twigs on the ground cracking under your feet. “What about him?” You blink and Wonwoo has to fight the urge not to kiss you immediately again. You’re too beautiful for your own good. “I mean,” he clears his throat, “how do you know him? Who…Who is he?” 

You chuckle as you watch Wonwoo nervously awaiting your answer. He is kind of cute when he looks at you like that, with a mixture of jealousy and genuine worry. 

“I met him when we were teens. I tagged along to one of my father’s missions and we ended up needing a place to stay, so his parents offered. He yelled at a bug because he was scared, and when I set the bug on fire, he cried and said he owes me his life,” you laugh at the memory. “It was my first interaction with humans as well and his whole family made me feel really welcome. They never cared about us being fairies, and if they did, they hid it damn well.” 

Wonwoo hums as he listens to you, somehow feeling relieved. Still, that doesn’t mean he won’t make it obvious to everyone that you’re not available. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take that long and shortly after four—as Seokmin informed you—you find yourself in the back of the village, listening to the muffled voices nearby. You point to the left, going first as you lead them. It’s been a while but you still remember the exact place of the house. It wasn’t the first time you sneaked in like this. 

“Are you sure it’s okay for us to just–” Before Seokmin can finish his sentence, you throw a small rock at the back door of the house, catching everyone off guard. “I take it back, it might have been better to just come in like you wanted to at first.” You roll your eyes at his comment and turn around to explain your action, but before you get the chance to do so, you hear footsteps coming closer and immediately turn on your heel again. 

“Firefly?” You smile as you hear the familiar voice behind the door before he can even open them, pointing it’s way. “That’s why I threw that rock,” you explain. “We used to do that when we were younger whenever I needed to escape from, well, life.” The door opens and your eyes land on the tall man. You feel like he might be even bigger than you remember him. 

“What’s with that nickname?” Wonwoo whispers quietly with a frown, making Seokmin laugh as they watch you come closer to the human, pulling him into a hug. “Alright, man, good luck with not setting his face on fire,” Min pats his back, walking towards you to introduce himself. 

Wonwoo quickly catches up, and just as Seokmin offers his hand to say hello, he holds the human’s hand instead. “I’m Wonwoo, nice to meet you,” he says through gritted teeth, barely registering Chan laughing behind him. “Mingyu,” the taller man smiles, quickly glancing at you before shaking his hand. “What are you guys, uhm, doing here?” 

“Min, I need your help,” you practically push Wonwoo out of the way, which only causes another way of laughter from his friends. “Anything,” Mingyu encourages you and Wonwoo immediately frowns. “Can we talk about it inside?” You suggest and he doesn’t hesitate, stepping aside so you and your group could walk through the door. 

“So, let me get this straight,” Mingyu starts, his eyes flickering between all of the guys before setting on you again. “You finally ran away from Minghao,” he says as if it was a praise, and it makes you wonder if your relationship has been that bad all along and you just didn’t realize. “After you realized you might like a demon that you imprisoned the day before?” This time, there is a hint of irony in his voice, almost as if he was judging you. You frown, “That’s not important.” 

“Alright, I’m just making sure I got everything,” he raises his hands to prove his innocence and you roll your eyes. “Well, anyway, and now you’re here to, what, track down an angel and force him to help you uncover the prince’s powers?” 

“Well, when you say it like that it sounds bad,” Chan comments, his words catching in his throat when he sees all of you turn your heads towards him. “We know it’s risky,” Seokmin proclaims, making you all turn to him instead. “But it’s the only option we have, really. And we know it’s a lot to ask, but we’d appreciate it if you could help us.” 

Mingyu smiles, nodding without a moment of hesitation. “I’m in,” he agrees, looking at Wonwoo. “Hopefully, it also means getting the future demon king on my side.” 

Wonwoo glances at you and then back at him, agreeing. “I don’t see a reason not to.” 

“In that case,” Mingyu stands up, opening his arms with a smile. “Make yourself at home.” 

You lay on the couch in the living room later that night, your legs resting on Wonwoo’s lap while Mingyu sits on a chair near Wonwoo. Seokmin and Chan had fallen asleep on the old mattresses Mingyu prepared for them earlier after getting out of the shower, so it was just the three of you now. 

“I’ll talk to Haewon tomorrow and ask how things are going between her and Jeonghan, maybe she’ll know when he’ll be here again.” You hum with a nod, smiling gratefully at your friend. “Thank you again, for everything.” 

“No need,” Mingyu shakes his head, his smile warm, comforting. Wonwoo doesn’t buy it just yet. “I told you you can turn to me whenever you need help,” he assures you before glancing at Wonwoo, chuckling when he sees the warning look. “So, Your Highness,” he mocks, finding pleasure in teasing him. Wonwoo exhales sharply. “You’re the second prince our little firefly took an interest in. I should probably take your title as a red flag after the first one, but something tells me to give you a chance.” 

“Mingyu,” you try to interrupt him, trying to stop him from some unreasonable questionnaire or an argument he might start. It doesn’t move with him the slightest bit though and you sigh. 

“Maybe I should be the one worrying about you instead, though,” Wonwoo hisses. “I mean, why exactly are you calling my lady your little firefly?” Mingyu seems caught off guard when Wonwoo fires back against him, but his smile doesn’t disappear. You, on the other hand, can’t keep your expression when the tone of Wonwoo’s voice reaches your ears. He is jealous. He’s questioning your friend because he is jealous. 

“No need to attack me,” Mingyu chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “I take no interest in your lady, you have my word,” he assures the demon, glancing at you to see your reaction to the situation. There is a blush on your face, one that can’t pass by unnoticed, and your lips are curled up in a smile, your eyes set on the black-haired demon. 

“I think I’ll leave you two up to it then,” he gets up, still smiling. “Good night.” 

The two of you sit in silence for a second before Wonwoo turns his body to face you, staying on the opposite side of the couch. For now, at least. “You’re jealous,” you whisper, grinning. He frowns, shaking his head in disagreement. “Me? Jealous? Over some human boy?” 

“His name is Mingyu.” 

“I know,” he answers through gritted teeth and your grin grows wider as he practically confirms your accusation. 

“It’s fine, Won. It’s hot, actually.” You watch something in his eyes switch, but he still doesn’t admit to his behaviour, telling you he isn’t being jealous. “Yeah? Then what was that? You worry about firefly? It’s a nickname his mom gave me when we were kids.” 

When you explain it, his eyes soften. Oh god, was he being jealous of Mingyu’s mom? He sighs, running his fingers through his hair. Of course it was a nickname his mom gave you. Misoon probably would have done the same if she met you. She would have loved you. 

When the thought runs through his head, something in him breaks. He isn’t sure what it is, but he is certain it’s noticeable because the next thing he knows, you are pulling him into a hug and wrapping your arms around him tightly. 

You don’t ask, you don’t have to. You just give him what you think he might need the most at the moment. “It’s okay,” you assure him, placing a kiss on his cheek. You move to sit on his lap, still holding him as he buries his head into your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist as well. “She would have loved you,” he whispers and you sigh, drawing circles on his back with your fingers. “She would have created some stupid nickname for you too.” 

“I’m sure she was an amazing woman,” you whisper, feeling him nod against your neck. “And she raised an awesome boy too,” you proclaim, leaning back to make him look at you. When he does, you cup his cheeks. “You are allowed to miss her and feel sad,” you assure him, pressing your lips on his. The kiss is soft, calming. “Let’s hope Jeonghan comes by tomorrow so we can get this over with as soon as possible and then get you back to the kingdom so you can say your goodbyes in person, yeah?” He nods and kisses you again, holding you close to himself, almost as if he was scared you’ll disappear as well. 

Wonwoo lays you two down on the couch, his arms never leaving you as he rests his head on yours and you snuggle closer to him, falling asleep in his arms shortly after. He holds on for a while longer, listening to the rhythm of your breath and closing his eyes, slowly drifting off. 

The room is loud when you open your eyes again, your friends’ voices mixing in together as they argue over how to have their eggs, and if they should make some for you and Wonwoo as well when they are at it or let you prepare your breakfast on your own. You groan, burying your head in Wonwoo’s chest again in protest. You don’t want to wake up just yet. 

He shifts slightly under you, carefully sitting up and looking around the room. You take a deep breath and sit up as well, trying to get your eyes to focus as you stare at your friends, their eyes on you already. “Good morning,” Chan chuckles, holding up two eggs in his hands. “You guys want some?” 

“Sure,” Wonwoo nods, his morning voice sending shivers down your spine. “Yeah, I’ll take some too,” you answer and the blond turns around again, handing the eggs to Mingyu who is cooking. 

“Did you even get any sleep on that couch?” Seokmin chats, joining you. You hum, “better than the cold ground yesterday.” He smiles, nodding. “Surely it doesn’t have anything on the royal beds the both of you have been sleeping on your entire lives,” he jokes and you frown. Wonwoo seems to catch it because he leans closer to you, his voice low. “I can assure you our beds are better. Probably make less sounds too.” 

You glance at him, biting back your smile. The idea of sleeping with him in his bed doesn’t seem bad at all. 

“Okay, lovebirds,” Mingyu interrupts your conversation after a while, handing you and Wonwoo your breakfasts. “I’m going to go out in a bit. I’m not sure when I’ll be back but I’ll definitely talk to Haewon today,” he assures you. “Where are you going?” You wonder, taking a bite of your eggs—they agreed on scrambled in the end. 

“Uhm, just so,” he mumbles, turning around to plate the rest. You raise an eyebrow at the lack of answer he gives you, exchanging a glance with Chan. “Oh? Does this going out include a lady by any chance?” He teases, watching Mingyu’s ears turn red. Your eyes widen, weakly hitting Wonwoo’s knee in excitement. “What? Since when do you have a girl?” You yell immediately. 

“I don’t, I don’t!” He tries to argue but it’s already too late, and before he can think of a way out of the situation, he is cornered with questions from all of you, asking who she is and how long they’ve been together. For a second, Mingyu regrets taking you in yesterday. 

“There has been a slight change in the plan,” Mingyu announces as soon as he walks through the door, making all of you look his way. “What did you do?” 

“Nothing! Don’t worry,” he shakes his head, walking straight to his kitchen corner. “I think I might have made it easier for you to approach Jeonghan actually.” 

“Do tell,” Wonwoo encourages him. “Did you find out when he’ll be here again?” 

“Yes,” he nods, looking at the clock on his wall. “In fact, he’ll be here in like…thirty five minutes,” he proclaims and you blink a few times, as if to find out if it’s just a dream you’re having. “What? How–” 

“Long story short, I ended up inviting them over for dinner because I thought it would be easier than you guys busting into Haewon’s kitchen to ambush him but then I got caught up and lost track of time, so I need your help making this dinner as quickly as possible. Now. That was your cue to get up,” he says impatiently, opening his fridge and taking out a few things. 

It takes you a second to comprehend what is happening but when you do, you jump up from your place on the couch, the three guys beside you following shortly after. “What do we need to do?” 

“Come here, I’ll give everyone a job.” 

You’re not sure how it even works, four grown guys in the kitchen somehow not standing in each other’s way. They move quickly, listening to every word Mingyu says so the food is ready for when the pair arrives. 

As the loud knock on the front door reaches your ears, you flinch. “That’s our sign. Let’s go,” you quickly say, going into Mingyu’s room with the guys to hide. Mingyu needs to set the scene first before Jeonghan sees you. 

“Alright,” Mingyu takes a deep breath, opening the door with a smile. “Hi,” he greets them warmly, pulling Haewon into a hug before shaking the angel’s hand, trying to search for any evil in his eyes. “Come in, I just finished cooking,” he steps aside and the two walk inside, looking around the house. 

“It’s similar to mine,” Haewon comments with a slight nod, smiling. “They weren’t very original while designing these I guess,” Jeonghan says, narrowing his eyes when his eyes set on the number of plates in the sink. “You live alone?” 

“I do,” Mingyu nods. “I mean, technically I do. But you know how it goes, Haewon also technically lives alone,” he jokes, leading them to the table. “Speaking of which, a lot of people are wondering what’s going to happen to you? I mean, should we expect to have an angel in our village full-time?” 

Haewon nervously glances Jeonghan’s way as she sits down, but he only shrugs. “That’s nothing they need to worry about. We are fine as we are.” Mingyu hums but he isn’t sure what to think about it. It’s been years since he first started showing up in the village, wasn’t it about time they tried to figure out something stable? 

“That’s all that matters,” he nods, setting the plates. “What about your lady, though, Gyu?” She asks with a grin. Mingyu chuckles as he sits down, rubbing the back of his neck. “It hasn’t been that long since we started going out but we are doing great,” he says, a hint of a blush on his face. 

As the dinner goes by and the conversation flows more naturally, Mingyu finally finds the courage to ask what he needs. He clears his throat, making both of his guests look up from their plates. “So, I know this might be a little sudden or inappropriate, but to be honest, I invited you here tonight because I need help,” he admits and Haewon tilts her head confusedly. 

Jeonghan scoffs, putting his fork down and giving his full attention to the man opposite him. “Just because I’m an angel, it doesn’t mean I can magically give you whatever you need.” 

“I know that,” Mingyu shakes his head. “But you do have some knowledge, don’t you?” Before the angel can open his mouth again and ask what it is that he wants to ask him, you come out of the room, your footsteps catching their attention immediately. Jeonghan smiles. “We haven’t seen each other in a bit,” he greets you and you return his smile, stepping forward. 

“Do you know your fiancé is looking for you?” You nod. His eyes soften, you think. It might have been a figment of your imagination, but you could swear you saw a slight change in his eyes. “My king was excited when he heard you had captured the demon prince, but also very disappointed when he found out he escaped.” 

“I understand.” 

Jeonghan shakes his head, stopping you before you can continue. “He wants his head now. A way to get back at the demon king. Your finacé has taken on the mission, he is leading his men as they look for him.” You swallow hard. Getting out of here might be harder than you had expected. 

“But I never agreed on anything like that,” he assures you all of a sudden. “So your new boyfriend can come out of the room and ask me what has been bothering him himself, I don’t see any reason to hand him over to my king.” 

You hesitate for a second, trying to figure out what his deal is, if he is being sincere. But before you can, the three demons are standing behind you, staring at the angel. “Okay,” you breathe out, stepping aside so Wonwoo can get closer. He takes a seat next to Mingyu at the table while you and the guys stay aside, carefully observing the situation. Haewon, unlike Jeonghan, seems to have no idea what’s going on. 

Wonwoo doesn’t hesitate as he gazes into the angel’s eyes, resting his hands on the table. “How do you know so much about me? About how my powers work?” 

“I don’t,” he shakes his head in disagreement. “I don’t know how your powers work, not really. But I guess you could say I know more than you.” 

“How?” 

Jeonghan chuckles at his impatience, turning to his girlfriend. She sighs, understanding what he wants to say after a simple eye contact. “Don’t be too long, I’ll be waiting.” He nods with a smile, leaning closer to kiss her. “I’ll try to be back as soon as possible,” he assures her and without a moment of hesitation, she says her goodbyes to all of you, saying how she wishes you good luck with whatever you need to deal with before leaving. 

“I used to know your father,” he explains, making Wonwoo frown. “Seokmin said he has never seen my father do anything like this. I mean, lighting my wings on fire? I’ve never heard of anyone being able to do that.” 

The angel examines Wonwoo’s expression before humming, as if he had figured it all out. “Has your mom ever got the chance to tell you about her first love?” He asks suddenly, making Wonwoo blink confusedly. “No?” 

He hums, glancing at Seokmin and Chan. “You are all too young to know, but there used to be a demon knight that caused a lot of troubles to us angels. He possessed the same powers you do, and we never really figured out how to fight against him.” You frown when he starts his story, cringing at how cliché it sounds. As if there was supposed to appear an animated story in front of your eyes about this mysterious knight that would explain everything. 

“Even though we were on opposite sides, we became friends for a while,” he continues, something in his eyes changing as he remembers the man. “And he told me about the girl he was supposed to marry—the demon princess.” 

“Wait,” Mingyu interrupts him, the picture Jeonghan was painting with his words disappearing as you blink to look his way. “This must have been decades ago, how old are you for fucks sake?” The angel laughs, and you realize Gyu is onto something. There was no way this twenty-something looking angel could have lived through that. 

“I’m twenty eight,” he shrugs casually. “Will be for the rest of my life.” 

“What do you mean?” You furrow your eyebrows. Jeonghan leans back in his chair, looking around the room before answering. “I’ve had an���encounter with a witch once and let’s say it didn’t go that well,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips again. “But it did gain me immortality, even though I’m not sure if it’s a curse or a blessing.” 

“That’s the worst curse of all,” Wonwoo comments, his words barely above a whisper as he carefully glances into the angel’s eyes. He shrugs again, brushing it off. 

“So, this knight?” Chan asks cautiously. “What happened to him? I don’t– I don’t think I’ve heard of a king like that before.” 

“That’s because he never became the king. He never married the girl he loved,” Jeonghan explains, his eyes trailing off to the plate in front of him. “He died before he could, and she had to continue living without him while his descendant grew in her belly.” You catch the small change in the tone of his voice before he can put a smile back on again, sharing his all-knowing glance with you again. 

You know it isn’t that easy for him, though. One dies, the other has to out-live them. Wonwoo was right, immortality is the worst curse of them all. Because no matter how unbothered Jeonghan wants to look, you know the thought of everyone around him dying scares him. There is no way it doesn’t. 

“Okay, what are you implying?” Wonwoo finally asks, the vulnerability in his eyes noticeable from far away. He hesitates, the words catching in his mouth. He glances at you for a brief second, taking a deep breath before turning his attention back to the angel opposite him. “Who…was this baby?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer, too scared of what it could all mean. 

Jeonghan stays silent, gazing into the prince’s eyes. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, so he doesn’t. Wonwoo’s breath shakes as he slowly takes the story in. You see his leg bouncing under the table and come closer to him, resting your hand on his shoulder. “How did he die?” You ask quietly, squeezing his shoulder tightly. 

“Fratricide,” he admits with a sigh. “The current king was never supposed to rule the kingdom. But I have to give him something, he did well with covering everything up. He married your mother before people found out she was pregnant, so it was easy to say you were his child.” 

“I’m sorry,” Wonwoo pushes his chair back, barely looking at any of you as he quickly storms out to the backyard, needing some time off. You sigh as you watch his back, glancing at Jeonghan. “Thank you.” 

“I’m not sure if you should,” he shakes his head, his eyes wandering to the back door. “I can’t help you with his powers and I doubt there is anyone who could. He’ll have to figure it out on his own.” You hum, thanking him once more anyway. “One more thing,” Jeonghan starts as he gets up. “Even though I don’t exactly know how his powers work, I know his mother was what helped his father the most. So, just stay by his side and I’m sure he’ll do big things.” 

“And if we are lucky enough, with him in the lead of the demons, the unnecessary rivalry between our kind can be solved,” he smiles one more time, briefly thanking Mingyu for dinner before he leaves the house without another word. 

“Should we…” Chan hesitates, glancing at the back door. Before he can ask his question, you are already shutting the door behind yourself, though. He sighs, looking at the two guys still in the room with him. “We should just clean up then, I guess.” Seokmin nods, helping Mingyu take all the plates and offering to wash the dishes. 

“What is the next plan after this?” Mingyu asks as he hands Seokmin one of the plates. He hesitates, watching the water fill up the sink. “I’m not sure,” he admits. “Do you mind if we stay one more night?” Mingyu smiles and gives him a reassuring nod, saying they are free to stay for as long as they need. “Wonwoo needs some time, but I’m sure once he processes everything, he’ll want to go back to the kingdom more than before.” 

“Are you sure?” Chan asks, doubting him a bit. Wouldn’t it make more sense to avoid the place from now on? 

“Yeah,” he nods. “Now that he knows the truth, he’ll want to dethrone the king more than ever. Take back what belongs to his family.” Chan hums, understanding what he means. 

“Wonwoo,” you call out after him, sighing when you see him sitting on the porch. You carefully sit down next to him, wrapping your hand around his waist as you hold him close. You don’t say anything and neither does he, relaxing in the warm silence. He rests his head down on your shoulder, closing his eyes with a deep exhale. 

“My dad is dead, and I never actually got to know him,” he whispers, his voice breaking in the middle. “I don’t…I don’t remember my mom much, but I don’t have a single memory of her alongside my fath– the demon king,” he corrects himself, almost spitting those words out. You rest your head on his, just listening. “It makes sense now why they were never together.” 

“There was no way you could have known. You heard Jeonghan, he did a great job masking it. Who knows if there is even a single person who knows he isn’t supposed to be on the throne.” Wonwoo hums in response, the sound so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “Misoon probably found something. It would explain his…his order to kill her.” Your eyes soften. You don’t think you could understand the pain he’s feeling even if you tried to. 

“And now I know as well, and it’s pissing me off.” 

“Then let’s do what we can do to take it from him,” you proclaim, squeezing his bicep. You slowly raise your head and he follows right after, glancing at you. He leans closer, cupping your cheek as he presses his lips on yours firmly. “Together,” he whispers. You nod, capturing his lips on yours once more. “Together.” 

This time, you spend the night on an actual mattress. After you and Wonwoo came back inside and told everyone your plan, Mingyu offered to lend you his bed, saying something about how you need to sleep well before you set off in the morning. You didn’t argue and ended up wrapped in Wonwoo’s arms in the bed, Seokmin and Chan on the floor beside you. 

And you have to say, Mingyu was right. When you wake up the next morning, you feel a lot more energized. You’re not sure how everything will turn out today, but at least you have enough power to try to fight whatever the demon king throws your way. 

You say your goodbyes to Gyu shortly after breakfast and he promises to introduce you to his new girlfriend the next time you come to visit, not forgetting to mention he hopes that by then, you’ll be the demon queen. You chuckle, squeezing Wonwoo’s hand in yours. You don’t promise him anything, but a part of you hopes for the same thing. 

“How exactly do you want to do this? They are going to notice us if we just walk in,” Chan questions, a step behind everyone else. Seokmin slows down slightly to join him in the back so he wouldn’t have to walk alone, awaiting for Wonwoo’s answer. It’s something he has been trying to figure out as well. 

“Who’s going to notice?” You hum back, a smile on your face. “Didn’t you say the king dismissed the knights, saying they won’t be needed?” Seokmin scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head. The king has made it so much easier for them without even knowing what was coming. 

“Okay, we get in, what’s next?” 

You turn on your heel with a smile, making all of them stop in the middle of the road. “Chan, I’ll need you to find the other guys, anyone you can in the shortest amount of time possible,” Wonwoo orders and the blond immediately nods. The demon prince then turns to Seokmin. “Even though the knights got dismissed, I’m sure he still has his personal guards with him so we’ll need to figure out a way to get through them, make sure not even a cleaning lady notices us walking in the hallways.” 

“We don’t have to walk, remember?” Seokmin grins, pushing out his wings. “It’s about time we stop walking all the time,” he says, encouraging them to do the same. Wonwoo chuckles, nodding. 

The next thing you know, Wonwoo holds you tightly around the waist, keeping your body pressed against his as he flies through the sky, his friends right behind him. You fight the urge to scream your lungs out as you look under you, your eyes widening when you realize just how high you are at the moment. 

They are lucky it’s actually faster when you fly because otherwise, you’d beat them up for almost causing you a heart attack with their way of transportation. 

When you step into the underworld, shivers run down your spine. It doesn’t feel like Aethera down here anymore, and you question if you can really live here for the rest of your life. However, when Wonwoo takes your hand in his and leads you through the alley, you know it’ll be okay. 

You look around as you go, your eyes falling on every one of the holes or smudges on the houses caused by fire. You’re not sure if those places caught on fire because of the location or demons but you don’t ask either. You figure there’ll be enough time for that later. 

Chan leaves the three of you alone shortly after reaching the town, running off to the local pub. He wasn’t sure where they were now, but he knows that when they were leaving, most of the knights settled down there to drink off the disappointment that came after the king’s announcement. If he was lucky enough, most of them were there again tonight. 

“Ready?” Wonwoo asks when you reach the back of the castle. You hesitate at first but end up nodding nonetheless. You came here, there was no backing down now. “Ready,” you agree and his hands wrap around you once again. He shares a glance with Seokmin before they both jump off the ground, a yelp leaving your lips as you tightly hold onto the demon prince. 

The window breaks immediately when Wonwoo slams one of his wings against it, quietly groaning when the shattering glass ends up in the same wing. He tries not to pay it any attention, though, focusing on the task at hand. “This way,” he says when his feet hit the ground again, dragging you through the hallway to get to the main hall. 

Wonwoo doesn’t hesitate as he pushes the door of the main hall open, his eyes immediately landing on the king, eating fruits from a plate one of the maids is holding up. You watch the king’s eyes widen as looks at the three of you, quickly glancing at his guards, a sign for them to get ready. 

Before they can take a step forwards, Wonwoo swings his wings forward, causing everyone in front of him to close their eyes as the strong wind combined with the dust from the room hits their faces. “No one moves from now on,” he orders and your eyes soften as you watch the maid tramble in shock. 

“You, right there,” you call out to her, making Wonwoo glance at you confusedly. He quickly turns his attention back to the king, though, trusting your judgement. “Come here.” She looks at the king, her head falling down when she notices the dead stare he gives her. She shakes her head slightly, obviously scared. You’re not sure if it’s of you or the king himself. “It’s okay,” you assure her, and after a moment of hesitation, she finally walks over to you. You give her a reassuring nod before you create one of your fire ropes, tying her up. “I’m sorry,” you apologize quietly. “But it’ll be safer on this side, I just can’t leave you free.” She nods, still shaking. 

You come back to the two demons, tilting your head as you take in the scene in front of you. You’re in advantage right now, you think, but you’d still feel a lot better if Chan and the knights were here as well. 

“What is going on here?” The king questions, waiting, observing before his next move. Wonwoo tilts his head, smiling. “Ambush, attack, an argument, call it whatever you want, dad,” the word feels poisonous on his lips, something he wasn’t supposed to eat but did anyway. “Or wait,” his smile falls, the disgust in his voice obvious. “Actually, I should call you uncle, shouldn’t I?” 

His eyes widen but he doesn’t move. Not yet. “What are you talking about?” 

You scoff at the sudden lack of confidence in his voice, your eyes landing on one of the guards who has been staring at you. You frown. “Can we move quicker?” 

“Alright,” Wonwoo clears his throat. “This can go either one way or another. We know you killed my father, who also happens to be your older brother, so there is no need to pretend otherwise. Don’t worry, the rest of the demons you led in a lie this whole time will know soon as well,” he assures him and you can see the way the king’s jaw tenses. “What do you want?” He asks through gritted teeth. 

The prince smiles, chuckling. “What you hoped I’d never ask for. The throne.” When he doesn’t answer immediately, Wonwoo continues. “I’m the sole legal heir and I even have my queen alongside me now, there is no reason for me not to take over. So, either we’ll do this nicely, you’ll leave without a word and I will never hear of you again or…” he trails off for dramatic effect, and as if on cue, the door swings open again. 

“Or we will join your little party,” Chan’s voice echoes through the room, creating a grin on your face. You glance behind you, exchanging a proud glance with Chan when you see all the knights behind him, ready to fight. A few of them look unstable, almost drunk you’d say, but that’s not important right now. You just need the numbers. 

The king grits his teeth and his eyebrows furrow as he thinks everything through, trying to figure out what to do next. “And if I fight back?” He signs for his guards to move, but before they can take a step forward, Wonwoo swings his wings once more. You hold his hand tightly, giving him the strength he needs so he can ignite them again. The king’s eyes widen when he sees what the prince can do, swallowing nervously. 

“If you want to fight back, we can do that,” Wonwoo proclaims calmly, stepping forward. “But we both know why my father was in the front lines while they never let you into a battle. Good thing it seems like I take a lot after him.” 

“You take after him too much,” the king mutters, his fingers digging into his palm as he hits the armrest. “You’re not suited for ruling the kingdom, neither was your father! I only ever did what was the best for the demons.” 

The grip Wonwoo has on your hand tightens. You squeeze back, assuring him it will all work out. “That will be for the people to decide, not you. Your time here is done. I’m taking the throne back.” 

“You can’t force me–” Before he can finish his sentence, you fire his way, the smoke in his face occupying him enough for Wonwoo to create a fire rope, a stronger one than you could ever achieve. You smile at him proudly, sending another flame at the king so the prince would have enough time to tie him up. “You can’t just force me out!” He argues, trying to fight against the ropes around him. He fails badly. 

“I gave you the opportunity to disappear. Now, though,” Wonwoo trails off with a sigh, as if he actually cared about what was going to happen to the king. “You give me no choice. I need to live in order to take care of the demons, and the angels want a head thanks to your actions.” 

“I’ll take care of it,” Seokmin says, patting Wonwoo’s back slightly and taking the king from him with a reassuring nod. “You’ve done enough and have a lot of work to do here.” The prince smiles at his friend, mumbling a quiet thank you before he turns to face you. “You can untie the poor lady, I think we are done here.” You nod without any questions, squeezing his hand again. “Am I right, guys?” He turns to the king’s guards and they agree without a moment of hesitation, their Adam’s apples bobbing as they swallow. “Yes, yes, of course, sir. We are at your service.” 

“Great,” he smiles. “Gather all the demons then, I need to have a speech.” 

Chan and Seokmin laugh as they pat their friend’s back, congratulating on his change of title. You shake your head at them but can’t hide your proud smile. 

“Your Majesty, you were quite impressive up there,” you tease when you are finally alone, following him as he leads you through the castle hallways, showing you around. “So were you, my queen,” Wonwoo smiles back, leaning closer to capture your lips in his. It’s gentle, soothing. There’s nothing more than you could want at the moment. 

Well, maybe except for one thing. 

You kiss him back, pressing your lips against his harsher, with more need. His eyes widen in surprise but he quickly closes them again and cups your cheek, bringing you closer. “How about you show me those beds you were speaking so highly of before?” You suggest and he doesn’t hesitate, holding onto your hand tightly as he pulls you forward, finding his bedroom in the mix of the doors. 

Just as the door closes behind you, before you can get the chance to look around, he pushes your body onto the door, his kiss hungry. You smile into the kiss, hooking your arms around his neck. His hand slides up and down on your thigh, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh as his kisses move lower, down to your collarbone. 

“Your Majesty,” you breathe out, sending shivers down his spine. You place your hand on his chest and push him away with ease, the grin on his face never disappearing as he backs to his bed until his legs hit the frame. He sits down, his eyes wandering from your face to your body. “You should celebrate your first day as the king.” 

“Oh, believe me, I have plans,” he holds your hand, pulling you closer. He positions you between his legs, tightly holding onto your waist as he looks up at you. You scoff at the sight, running your fingers through his hair. He looks almost desperate. Yeah, you could imagine looking at him like this for the rest of your life. 

“Mhm?” You hum with a smile as he presses a kiss on your lower belly. “Are you sure? Because I have my own plans.” 

“Yeah?” He questions, his kisses going lower. He doesn’t look at you again, entirely focused on your thigh now. “Tell me about them.” You smirk, your hands wrapping around both of his horns and pulling on them, causing him to raise his head as he whines. “They involve this pretty demon and his really nice cock.” 

He swallows, his breath hitching as he gazes into your eyes. “You’re going to drive me insane,” he mumbles, twitching slightly under your touch. “How about I ride you insane instead?” You suggest and you can see his mind short circuit under you. You chuckle, pushing him down onto his back. He moves up on the bed so his legs aren’t hanging out of the frame while you sit on his lap, leaning closer to him again. “All of you, in your real form,” you whisper, the hot breath on his ear making him shake. 

“You want to…” 

“Everything,” you nod, your hands sliding under him. He prompts himself up on his elbows, watching you curiously. You roam his back until your fingers find the scars from his wings. “Are you sure?” He asks quietly, his words barely above a whisper. “So sure,” you assure him, sitting back up again. His eyes wander all over your figure, trying to see what you wanted to achieve with this. 

Still, he listens, pushing out both his wings and his tail. He shifts uncomfortably at first but gets used to it soon after when you kiss him again. He wraps his hands around your waist, holding you. When you pull away, there’s a smirk on your face. He narrows his eyes as if to see through you, trying to figure out if he should be excited or scared. 

“I want to try something,” you say and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t worry, it’ll feel good,” you smile, your hand softly brushing over his clothed boner. He groans, his hips instinctively thrusting up. “What do you think?” You coo, kissing his cheek. “Do you want to taste me?” 

There’s nothing he could protest about. You, on top of him, asking him if he wants to taste you? He’d be a fool to refuse something like that. And so, he lets you do whatever you want, not saying anything as you make a pair of your fire ropes and use it to tie his hands to the bed. He stays silent even when you take off your clothes, his eyes glued to your body. He wasn’t in hell anymore. No matter how he looked at it, this was heaven. 

“Come here,” he whines impatiently, making you chuckle. You move up, carefully positioning yourself on top of his face, sitting down when he gives you a nod. Your eyes roll back almost immediately, his tongue sliding between your folds and sucking on your clit as if his life depended on it. You grab onto the bed frame at first, grinding your hips on top of him. However, as his whines reach your ears, you get a better idea. 

You look down at him, moaning just at the sight. You let go of the bed and hold onto his horns instead, the loud moan that leaves his lips after a pure pleasure to your ears. You continue riding his face while occasionally squeezing or pulling at his horns, driving him just a bit more crazy each time. 

“Fuck–shit, Wonwoo,” your movements slow down as you get closer to your climax. He has to fight everything in him not to break the stupid ropes apart and force you onto his face harsher so he could drive you over the edge when he notices how you shake, resisting the urge by chasing after your clit instead. “So good,” he praises, moaning as his cock twitches in his pants. “Taste so fucking good, baby.” 

Your breath grows heavier as you finish on his tongue, moving back to sit on his chest instead as you try to catch your breath. When your eyes fall to his face, he is smirking. You feel your heart skip a beat as he licks his lips, shaking his hands impatiently. “Come on, baby, untie me now.” You chuckle, shaking your head at him. “I don’t think so,” you whisper into his ear, pulling on his horns again, enjoying the way his brows twitch and he closes his eyes. He moves his hands again, with more force this time. Still, he doesn’t actually try to get out of the ropes. 

Wonwoo groans as he watches you, throwing his head back as soon as you collect yourself and start exploring his body. It starts with his horns, watching to see his reaction every time you touch them, then you slowly move across his face to his chest, tracing his bare skin under his shirt. His eyes widen again when you move to touch his wings, the feeling of your cold fingertips sending shivers through his body. 

You pull down his pants next, scoffing at how messy his underwear is by now, his precum leaking through the fabric. You grab his tail, gently moving your hand over it until you get to the end and pull, making him gasp. “You’re so sensitive,” you tease him, watching his dick twitch. “What are we going to do about this?” You coo softly, brushing your hand over his crotch. 

“Baby, please,” he whines, thrusting his hips up against the air. You shake your head, pulling down his underwear with ease. He breathes out in relief when you free his cock, watching as you wrap your hand around the base. “I said I’ll ride you insane, didn’t I?” You ask innocently, aligning yourself above his cock as you slowly sit down, a whine escaping your lips. 

Wonwoo watches you move on his cock, your mouth wide open as he thrusts his hips into you as fast as he can, almost as if it was revenge for teasing him before. You try to slow down, pull out or anything, but every time you’re only met with a harsher trust, full of need. “Wa-Wait, let me,” you say in between moans, his lips turning up into a smirk. “After you untie me,” he says, thrusting into you after each word. 

You gasp, shaking your head in protest. “N-No,” you disagree, quickly finding his tail and pulling on it to get the upper hand again. He groans, grabbing the ropes around his hands and pulling on them fiercely. You grin again when his thrusts turn sloppy and he glances at you. “Please,” he begs and your head goes blank for a second. “Want to touch you, feel you.” 

Your eyes roll back at his words, bouncing on his cock slowly again. You sigh as you gaze into his eyes, leaning down and pressing your lips on his. “Okay,” you whisper, and without another second of hesitation, he tears the rope apart, freeing his hands on his own. He holds your ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he helps you move up and down, his lips never leaving yours. 

The room is shortly after filled with the mixture of your and his moans, the smell of your sweaty bodies filling the air. You don’t care at all, ignoring the sweat on your forehead as his cock slides in and out of you. You kiss his collarbone, muffling your whines against his skin as you leave love bites all over his neck, marking him yours. 

“I’m gonna–” he doesn’t even get to finish his sentence as you speed your movements, driving him over the edge. Your mouth falls open as he fills you up, slipping his cock out after a few more trusts. You fall right beside him on the bed, trying to catch your breath as you feel his cum running down your body. He prompts himself up on his elbows quickly, pushing his wings back into his body so there is enough space. He turns to you, cupping your cheek and pulling you in for another kiss. 

You smile, kissing him back without hesitation. He gazes into your eyes, giving you one of his grins. The same grin you’re slowly falling in love with. He presses his forehead on yours, breathing heavily. “This was great,” he mumbles and you hum in response with a smile. “Can’t wait to repeat it,” you chuckle, kissing him again. 

Just as he turns you so you would be under him and places wet kisses on your neck, a sharp knock on the door interrupts him. “Your Majesty, are you in there?” He closes his eyes in protest, acting as if staying silent could help him avoid whoever was outside the door. “We need to discuss a few things regarding your duties. We should also talk about what we’re going to do with the knights, sir.” 

Wonwoo groans when the voice doesn’t leave, plopping back down on the bed beside you. You laugh at him, encouraging him to get up. He tries to argue, but the man behind the door only insists more and he is left with no other choice. He’ll just have to enjoy you again later. 

10 years later 

The laughter of your husband mixed with your daughter’s fills your ears and you watch them run around the forest while you walk behind. You know you could have taken the carriage or fly, but there was something nostalgic about walking through here. 

“She has him wrapped around her little finger,” Chan beside you laughs, watching the scene ahead. You chuckle, glancing at him and his wife. “If your son didn’t have a lesson with Seokmin today, you would be out there running with them, “ you point out and he rolls his eyes. He doesn’t argue, though. 

“Mom! Are we almost there?” Your daughter runs to you, leaving Wonwoo forgotten. He scoffs in disbelief as he watches the two of you, crossing his arms over his chest. You shake your head at him, picking up the little devil. Literally. 

“You see those houses ahead?” You point and her eyes follow your finger. “It’s right there,” you smile. She nods, resting her head on your shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you to dad so he can carry you, yeah?” She shakes her head in disagreement, making you chuckle. “How about uncle Chan then?” You suggest, watching as she raises her head to look at the blond beside you. She thinks for a second and then nods. 

“Alright, come here, princess,” he takes her from you and you walk to Wonwoo, wrapping your arm around his. “She can’t honestly prefer him over me, right?” He asks, hurt. You laugh at him, shaking your head. “She’s a kid. You’re going to bore her from time to time. Let her play with Chan and Jisoo for now, it’s no big deal.” 

And so, for the rest of the walk, your daughter stays with the two while you lead the way to the Little Village, a smile spreading across your face immediately when you get closer. It’s been years since you’ve been here. 

“Ara! Be careful!” Wonwoo calls after your daughter as she jumps off Chan’s arms and runs around the moment you reach the center, examining every corner she can. He sighs and you shake your head slightly. “I’ll go find Mingyu and you look after her,” you proclaim, kissing your husband’s cheek. However, before you can turn around and do as you said, a strong voice interrupts you. “There’ll be no need for that, firefly.” 

Your smile grows wider as you land your eyes on the tall man, pulling him into a hug immediately. It’s only when you pull away that you notice the little human hiding behind his leg, crouching down to be at the same height. “And who might this be?” 

“You have a son?” Wonwoo’s eyes widen and he comes closer to greet the man as well. “For six years now,” Mingyu nods with a small laugh, looking down at him. “Siwoo, it’s okay. Those are my friends.” He carefully steps forward, watching you and Wonwoo. “What are you doing here?” He asks, glancing back at Wonwoo. 

“We came to visit,” you shrug, calling after Ara to come join you. “You still have to show me the mother of your son, remember?” 

Mingyu chuckles, nodding. “Come join us for lunch then,” he offers and without a second thought, you agree. 

His house is still the same it was years ago, except for a few new toys lying around and his son’s clothes everywhere on the couch. You have to smile. “I’ve heard a lot about all of you,” Mingyu’s wife introduces herself, tugging her brown hair behind her ears. You shake her hand immediately, saying how lovely it is to finally meet her. Who would have thought it’d take you ten whole years to come back here? 

After Mingyu quickly cleans up all of the mess in the living room, you all gather on the couch, leaving your kids to play on their own in Siwoo’s room. Ara was quick to befriend him, showing off her powers to him. He was scared at first, hiding behind the table, but when she made a fire snowflake in her hand, he peaked out again, curious. 

“So, the demon queen,” Mingyu starts, leaning back in his chair as he watches you proudly. “And a famous knight,” he adds, creating a smile on your face. “You heard?” 

“Jeonghan seems to know a lot of things,” he shrugs casually. His eyes flicker from Wonwoo back to you, smiling warmly. “I’m glad you got to be everything at once like you wanted.” 

You feel your eyes water at his words, the memories of the past ten years running through your mind. You did do everything you wanted. You managed to balance people’s expectations with what you always dreamed of and made the best of it. It couldn’t have been any better. 

“Hadn’t it been for her, the kingdom would be a mess,” Jisoo nods. You groan, closing your eyes in embarrassment as praises start to leave your friends’ lips, extolling you as if you were some sort of goddess. “It’s nothing like that,” you quickly shake your head. “Oh, no, she’s right, it’s not,” Wonwoo agrees, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “It’s so much better.” 

And so, you chat throughout the whole afternoon with your old friends, talking about everything that comes to mind at the moment. You mention how much Ara takes after her father, and Wonwoo adds that she has your eyes. Chan talks about his son as well, ranting about how he and Seokmin’s son never leave each other’s side, bothering all of you with their crazy ideas. 

Mingyu also tells you about his son, daydreaming about his wife while she sits right beside him, and you have to smile. You know he’s found a great woman just when you look at them. You also find out Jeonghan had finally moved into the village as well, even though he often leaves to visit heaven still, staying civil with the rest of the angels. 

It feels good to know everyone is doing well. 

You rest your head on Wonwoo’s shoulder, nodding as you listen. He smiles, pressing a kiss on the top of your head before he focuses on Chan’s old story about how he and Jisoo met again. When he finishes, Wonwoo can’t help but tell the story of how the two of you met, calling it the best day of his life. 

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[steviewashere]

Back in My Head Again

Rating: Mature CW: Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Steve Harrington, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use (In Various Points), Mental Health Issues, Past Referenced Parent Death Pairings: Tommy Hagan & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & Steve Harrington's Father, Steddie Tags: Post-Canon, Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington's Father Being an Asshole, Steve Harrington Making Some Bad Decisions, Impulsive Steve Harrington, Good Friend Tommy Hagan, Protective Tommy Hagan, Tommy Hagan Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Tommy Hagan Cares About Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is Loved, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Eddie & Tommy Bonding About Steve, Childhood Friends, Hopeful Ending This one's a very personal piece to me. So please be kind, but also take care of yourselves. This one gets dark really fucking fast. Read all content warnings and tags, take care! <3 Also on ao3 (because this is long)

☎️—————☎️ Tommy’s the only one who knows what happened to his mom. It’s not that he’s keeping her death a secret, but it’s easier to just not say anything. Sometimes, when he’s quiet in a room, all the eyes around him are a bit more attentive than they’d be if he were just being stupid. He only found out because Steve needed an ear to listen and a brain that remembers when she had been sweet.

Not that his mom hadn’t been nice or sweet or motherly. She was just…different near the end. Combative. Argumentative. Angry. He could breathe the wrong way and receive an earful for the way his nostrils whistle. Had he known the inevitable, maybe he would’ve been a little bit more receptive to her comments, accepted them like soft punches to an even softer pillow, but as it was, he was just as angry—if not more.

With her gone, his dad became worse.

They weren’t, like, buddies before she died. But if they were in the same room? Well, it would take a whole lot of tongue biting, but Steve could manage it. With his nose cradled in the crook of his elbow, all his words muffled by warm skin, and hands curled into tight white fists. At least in the before, there were only a handful of times where he felt the need to be scared of his dad. The one afternoon where he came home from a basketball practice—pent up and exhausted, hungry as hell, sweating where the sun didn’t shine—and his dad had been furious about something probably ridiculous, and charged at him from the other side of the room. Steve had acted on a weakened instinct, one he thought he trained to be obediently dormant, but when his fists went up in front of his face and his eyebrows furrowed into the soft hoods of his eyelids, he knew he’d always had to be ready just in case.

Maybe he was just a spoilt brat. Maybe he was just an angsty teenager with too many misplaced emotions. Maybe he was just naive.

But he had been ready, always, to pack his shit, dodge some punches, and get the hell back. Though, when his mom was alive, he survived on her affection like a sick bee needing sugar. Now, without her? It was a matter of time before his dad starved him. Or worse.

Tommy knew, though, about his parents. That his mom died suddenly and too young. That his dad was an asshole. He knew about the always packed backpack in his closet, the overstocked first aid kit he hid under his bed, and that secret he let spill from his lips too late one evening, beer soaked on his tongue, a hunger for Tommy’s freckles in the deep pit of his stomach—I want to kiss you, is that weird?

Was it maybe too weird that he went to Tommy still? Even after everything? Even after telling him off in that parking lot? Maybe, but Steve’s never been one to make good decisions. But there was a certain sort of security blanket when it came to talking to Tommy. 

After a bad hookup? He went to Tommy. Drank a little too much and needed somebody to not judge him for it? He called Tommy. Wet the bed from a nightmare like he did as a kid? To his childhood friend, Tommy, he ran to.

They’ve seen each other at their worsts. Well, the non-NDA, government cover-up worsts. He’d been there for Tommy when his parents divorced. Been there the first time Tommy had been rejected. Been there when Tommy was sick with the flu, threw up a little too hard, and gave himself a nose bleed. And in turn…

Steve trusted Tommy still, despite it all.

Was it unhealthy? To rely on Tommy in certain dire moments and then to recede as if it never happened? Oh yeah, Steve can recognize that. But would he go to Robin with information about his dad? No, unfortunately, he wouldn’t. There’s not enough time and comfort and days spread between them.

He’s known Tommy since he was seven years old.

If they weren’t such big piles of shit, to each other, to themselves, maybe they’d still be orbiting. But. They are, that’s the problem. They are.

Now, though, he needs Tommy.

Hugging a payphone by the nearby park, wrapped up in loose, thin layers, seventeen degrees and lips turning purple, he needs him.

“C’mon, Tommy…c’mon,” he mutters, breath puffing in front of him in a large white cloud. This is his last quarter. His cheeks are searing with tears. There aren’t gloves on his hands, his fingers are fucking numb and bluish. He’d go home, but his dad is there. Drunk and stubborn and angry, his dad is always there.

Finally, on the last ring, it’s picked up. “Hello?” Tommy answers gruffly.

Steve sobs, hard and sour and ugly, “T-Tommy.”

“Holy shit,” he hears, that voice now alert, “Steve, is that you? Oh my god, are you okay?”

His eyes dart around. The street is empty. There’s ice under his stupid sneakers, one wrong move and he’ll give himself another concussion. Words bubble in his throat, but all that leaves him is an awkward, dry retch.

“Hey,” Tommy whispers, “take…take a deep breath for me, okay? I’m—Take a moment, I’m right here.”

The breath stutters in his chest, hiccuping and sharp and painful. He heaves a sigh, is praised for it, and sniffles. “My d-dad f-fucking sucks. I hate him, Tommy. I fucking hate him.”

Over the line, Tommy shuffles—probably in his bed, this late at night; 3:23am, when Steve hazily glances at his watch. “I know,” he says softly, “what’d he do, Stevie? Or is he just…”

“He—fuck—I came downstairs to get some water, y’know, and…and I don’t know, he was just in the kitchen. I could…I could see the alcohol on the counter, so he was drinking, and he’s always drinking, Tommy…he’s always, always—but he saw me and h-he called me an asshole, I know I am, but I just—I was just trying to get some water and he just said it and he—he said it was my fault that my mom, that she…”

The moment ‘mom’ leaves his tongue, the sobs boil again in his throat. Gurgling and wet, he allows it to happen. Bile-laden sobs rip wild through his chest, staining the back of his mouth, heaving out of him because the breath burns through him too fast to mean anything. He blubbers, words incoherent through his teeth, slurred in a way only his dad knows how. And it’s within the blink of an eye, sorry on himself that he’s so close to being just like him, that he’s wrenching something deep from within his pocket.

On his sixteenth birthday, only a few short years ago, his grandpa had still been alive. Happy and well. There was one thing he gave him. A pocket knife. Heavy silver handle, sharpened silver blade, his name engraved in pointed letters. It was for self-defense, a good tool just in case of an emergency.

Is it self-defense if it was himself that he was protecting from?

Is it self-defense if it pierces between his ribs?

Is it self-defense if it was an emergency escape?

“Where are you?” Tommy asks. It’s urgent in the air, as if he’d already been asking it in Steve’s daze, looking down at the pocket knife shiny in his grip. “I’m going to come get you. Where are you?”

He could bite his tongue, he’s good at it. 

But one thing about Tommy that nobody else knows is that he’s perceptive as hell.

Steve could swallow his own tongue, but even then, Tommy would pick up that something is going seriously wrong.

“That park near my house,” he mumbles in response, “you know where it is?”

“You see a bench nearby?”

He nods stupidly, humming without words.

“Can you sit on it for me, Steve?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, “I can do that.”

“Okay,” Tommy sighs, but it doesn’t sound put-out. It’s relief. “Stay on that bench and wait for me, okay? I want to be able to see you.”

Steve hums again. Bobbles his heavy, eyes-burning head. “Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Hurry?”

His hand fists tighter around the folded pocket knife. Thumbnail etching into his own name, eggshell white paint chipping at the pressure. One wrong move, one wrong thought, one wrong second—he takes a deep breath, the air burning inside him, and can pinpoint the exact spot where the blade would rest. It’d be just one quick push. One last scream. One last bout of terror. The metal is cold in the center of his palm, yet his fingers haven’t quite picked up on the temperature.

“‘Course,” Tommy murmurs, “I’ll find you soon.”

The phone buzzes dead in his ear. There are tears crisp and hot to the gentle wobble of his chin. He darts his eyes to the nearby park bench, lonely and dark with a gentle spattering of snow along its back, and he begins the gentle path forward. Tiptoeing around sheets of slick, thin ice. Fog in the air hanging, clouding the dark sky to be a semi-permanent pale grey. He settles himself on the bench, the cold seat against his pants.

In his hand, the knife rests uneasily. It’s a light thing, but tonight it’s especially heavy. Especially daunting. He blinks, still looking at it with his tired, seeping eyes, and curls his fingers around it. It doesn’t go back to his pocket, though.

He doesn’t know, really, why he took the little knife with him. As if, possibly, there’d be a demodog out there searching for him—that’s the only truth he can bring to the forefront of his mind. That he’d be hunted down by something he could only control with the folds of his own flesh, but even that’s a sorry excuse; the demo-creatures have long since been rid of, they were connected to Vecna, and Vecna’s as good as dirt. If he had to think of a reason, Steve could conjure up reality with a simple blink. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the need had always been there.

To kill himself.

That’s as bluntly as he could put it.

Even that brings a fresh churn to his ever-churning stomach.

The need had been there, though. An etch to the sketch of his whole person. A fleeting thing. Maybe since the first time he’d been left home alone—eight years old and confused. Maybe when he called the police after his dad had hit him the first time—ten years old and told that that’s how bad kids are punished, a spanking. Maybe when he drank himself into near hysteria—thirteen years old and puking up his lungs in his mom’s nice peonies outside the kitchen window. Or maybe it was after the demogorgon—seventeen.

Could’ve been in part because of Nancy or even Jonathan. Possibly Carol. Even Barb. At one point, definitely, Tommy.

But even he knows pointing fingers at friends is pointless.

This need, this feeling, the weight of the knife in his hand—

He’d always held the handle. It was just a matter of sensitivities that controlled the blade.

Why this time?

Why now?

Because he was an asshole? Whatever. He’s been an asshole. Because his dad was home? Whatever. Steve’s always wanted him home. Because his mom was dead? Whatever. She’s been dead for over a year now. No Vecna to get her, no demogorgon to savor her—he had been eighteen, she had been sick, like really fucking sick…it was nobody’s fault.

So why now? Steve couldn’t even pinpoint the reason.

It was a build probably. Unresolved shit from the Upside Down, hand in hand with his failing minimum wage job, with his spiral of never-ending college rejection letters, on and on. He never went through with flicking open the blade. Had to protect and whatnot. Is it because there’s no reason to protect? Is it because he doesn’t have to now?

Sure, he was staying because of Dustin, Max, the lot of them, Robin, and Eddie.

He wasn’t staying for himself, though.

Why would he? Who could?

He’s always had this need to never truly pocket the knife. Despite its name.

It belonged to him. Name on it and everything. And as fate should see it, maybe it was a sign.

Read: Steve Harrington is fucked in the head and is going to do something about it.

Read: Steve Harrington brandishes a weapon and he knows how to use it.

Read: Steve Harrington wants to die and has wanted to for a really long time.

Longer than he cares to admit.

He flicks the handle, blade unsheathing with a quick schtick! It’s shiny and clean. Never used. There’d been a back up pocket knife, one he was given from his dad; it was only ever used for shotgunning beers. Couldn’t bring himself to use it for anything else outside of that. And he couldn’t ever hurt himself, not when he was swimming and playing basketball. Everybody would see. Everybody would know. He was known, sure, but not known, and the prospect of that brings a fresh wave of goosebumps to his arms. Unless that’s the cold. But the point still stands.

The knife he currently has, shiny and clean, it could use a little grit to it. Some roughage.

Why hadn’t he killed himself, though? Was it the blood that made him squeamish? The fact he’d hurt anyway? He could drown, but then there was the problem of his bloated corpse. And there was the possibility of overdosing, but then somebody would go all detective on his stupid body, trace back the ketamine in his system to Eddie…Eddie doesn’t deserve that.

He’s had plans. They were kind of…intrusive, though. Made in a split second decision. The ketamine one, he almost went through with that. Bought as much as he was allowed to purchase in one sitting, whatever Eddie was willing to part with—years ago, he has half a mind to squander, he doesn’t sell like that anymore—and then he’d return a few days later, stock up some more…he was just gonna go for it. All in one sitting. Lock the bathroom door behind him. He had even brought in a dining chair the night he was going to, set it up underneath the doorknob and everything, yet when it came to the actual drugs…

The toilet had a very open mouth and very willing stomach that night.

There was the quarry. He’d only been there a few times. Not since Will’s “body” had been discovered, but he’d been there before. It was always during a morning jog. Crisp autumn air, low hanging fog, nobody on the roads. Steve would make a detour, in his short sleeve t-shirt and even shorter shorts, and he’d jog right up to the edge.

It was farther and farther and farther down the more he went. The more he grew. Even when he sat, he was taller than the time before. Sometimes he’d throw a rock, watch it skitter down the sharp edges of other rocks, listen until the sound disappeared, until the only thing that gave proof it was there were the ripples in the water far below. There was always a passing thought, though, that he’d leave a lot more evidence behind. Every sharp edge stained with proof of him. He wanted nothing left in his wake. Wanted it to look like somebody had just snatched him while he was out, dumped him in the water, had very little care for his body. Because who would care? No, if he went through with his plan, there’d be evidence. The news would break: Steve Harrington, age 15, Death By Suicide. Or would they publish it? Beat around the bush, probably. Save face and all.

Point is, there had been plans steadily over the years. Each one getting smaller and smaller and lesser and lesser. It was always the clean up that startled him. The fear that little bits and pieces of him would be left behind. Vomited foam from his mouth, blood from his head, the wet shadow of his body pulled from the pool. He’d be everywhere. And everyone would know.

Steve Harrington was suicidal.

King Steve Harrington had problems.

Steve Harrington was a scared little boy, hardly a man, and oh how fun that is to laugh at.

Who would miss him? Well and truly miss him?

At eighteen? Dustin. Maybe Nancy. Maybe even Jonathan. They’d would’ve gotten over it, wouldn’t they have? Poor Steve Harrington, the ex and the babysitter. At fifteen? Just Tommy and Carol. He always imagined it, people like Barb and Nancy and Robin and Eddie, all of them adrift by the news, but later getting over it. Just a ‘who cares’ thrown over their shoulder, a ‘good riddance’ in the back of their mind they’d never admit to. At twelve? Bobby in the A/V club, who always welcomed Steve with a gap-toothed grin and his wide bright eyes, making sure there was always space for his confused questions. The kid that some time later, Steve watched get his head swirled in a toilet, laughing at how he sputtered. At eight? His mom. She would’ve been inconsolable. Though, she would be young enough, maybe she could’ve tried again.

Now, though?

There’s…there’s too many people to even name.

God, way too many people.

He was staying for them, never himself. Got a best friend and a few pseudo siblings, his adopted dads in Hopper and Wayne…and he’s got a boyfriend that nobody knows about. He’s got everything.

Why is he still here? With the knife in his hand? In the cold? Frostbitten and scared?

Underneath all the scars, the anger, the hair, he’ll always be that scared little boy. The little boy afraid of his dad—the monster he lives with. Of drunk hands and slurred words, cigar smoke and stale dinners, wooden paddles and leather belts. He’ll always be the little boy that cried in his knees, hidden in the depth of his closet, under tens of old clothes, hanging on for dear life. Always be the kid that called his best friend, Tommy, when things went to shit. Phone cradled to his ringing ear, a slap still stern across his cheek, and needing instructions from Tommy’s parents on how to use a first aid kit.

He’s gotten better at discerning what he needs from the kit. Not because of alternate dimension beings, though. No, due to the monster that sits at his dining table, sipping Jack with glazed eyes and sorrowed brows, angry veins and angrier words. Asshole.

Steve was scared. Vulnerable. Soft-bellied. And he was small, despite being so big, he was always smaller than he showed. Any sign of himself—this true self, squirmy and squeamish and small—that would be it. He didn’t want to be known. Didn’t want to be found out.

But then, here he was, holding the knife.

Distantly, he hears the slow jog of heavy steps. He has the wherewithal to recognize he should stow away the knife, deep in his pocket where nobody can see. Though, as it glistens and blinks—mesmerizing him—he leaves it wide open.

This isn’t the first time he’s been here.

It needs to be his last.

“Stevie!” Tommy shouts somewhere on his left. Steve’s head swivels to the sound of his own nickname. Jogging up one of the clearer snow paths, Tommy’s making quick work of getting to him. He’s in heavier clothes than Steve is: a beat-up Carhartt jacket, thick and long jeans, brown work boots, a tartan red scarf wrapped messily on his neck, mittens, and a beanie with a big pom-pom on the top. As he gets closer, Steve can hear his heavy breathing, see the puffs that emanate from the frigid air. Still got that boyish way to him. A million freckles, those soft brown eyes, his pearly white teeth. The first boy Steve ever thought to kiss; the first and last boy to break his heart. “Steve,” Tommy murmurs now that he’s close, “hey…hey, I found you.”

He can’t move from his spot on the bench. It’s cold. His bottom aches from the chill of the wood, but he can’t make himself get up. Legs like lead. That knife still heavy. And he might cry if he speaks right now.

Tommy can see him. Truly see him.

For the first time.

Steve can catch the exact moment Tommy spots the unsheathed, flipped open knife. His eyes widen a fraction, eyebrows shooting up to the edge of his hat, his light smile fading into the paleness of his cheeks. He stutters in his settling, standing frozen to the spot. Like he became one with the slick ice. He’d do something like laugh at the expression, but again, it may just catch like a sob.

“You…you have a knife,” Tommy dumbly points out. His eyes dart away from the blade, though. He’s forcing himself to not look. To ignore it. Setting his focus on Steve’s face instead. “Your lips,” he whispers, “what’re you doin’ out here without a scarf? And your gloves and coat and…you need to be warm.” With great speed, the same quickness Steve used to see on the high school’s track, Tommy is unwrapping the scarf from around his neck. Gently, he tucks it on Steve’s, forcing it to sit tight against his going blue lips. Then, he’s tugging off his jacket, slipping Steve’s left arm through one of the sleeves. But by the time he makes it to the right—“Stevie, can I…I need to take the knife from you, okay? I need to get you warm.”

He can’t move his hand.

But his eyes stay on Tommy’s. Big on his sunken face, burning hot with fresh tears, chin wobbling. He can’t even ask.

“I’m gonna take it,” Tommy gently says, “put it in my pocket, okay? Just for a little while.” Slow now, he reaches for the knife. When Steve doesn’t pull away, doesn’t even flinch, he takes it in his grip. It’s probably the only thing about him that’s warm, if the surprise on Tommy’s face says anything. But he ignores that, too. Simply folds it up—schtick!—and buries it deep in the front left pocket of his jeans. Just like that.

Like it was nothing.

The outline of its handle in Tommy’s pocket is something, though. Heavier than it seems.

Had it looked like that in Steve’s sweatpants? All weighted and obvious?

He pities himself—the fool.

Tommy continues to take care of him, though, one piece of clothing at a time. The jacket all zipped, mittens on Steve’s numb hands, beanie on his big head. And when he’s done, he steps back with a tight, light smile. “There,” he breathes, “all done.” He tucks the scarf tighter again, as if he can manifest it to be warmer. Then, softly, he takes Steve’s hands in his own, rubbing them with his palms. Forcing them to get warmer. “Can I get you to come with me to my car? Let me turn on the heater and warm you up?”

Steve blinks. The first thing he feels on his face since he finished sobbing on the phone—a single hottear. “Are you taking me home?” he asks, wobbly and so unusual, even for himself. It makes him sound like a little kid. A little, vulnerable, very afraid kid.

“No,” Tommy murmurs—simple—“I’m not. We are going to drive around for a few, so you get warmed up in the car, get you a gas station hot chocolate—which will taste and feel amazing right now—and then I’m going to take you wherever you want to go.” He pats Steve’s shoulders with both of his hands, almost like he’s reminding himself that Steve is still right there. To touch. Alive. “How’s that sound?”

He nods once. Then, he blinks and shakes his head. Nods. Shakes. “I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, muffled by the scarf, “I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, no, I don’t want an apology. No apologies allowed. I’m glad you called.” Tommy squeezes Steve’s shoulders, looking dead on. There’s something watery in his gaze now. He doesn’t let it fulfill. “I’m really glad you called, okay? Let’s go to the car to warm up. And if…if you want to talk about it, we’ll talk. My ears are yours and my lips are sealed, you know that.”

They make their way back one slow step at a time. Their arms are hooked like they’re on some winter wonderland walk date. It’s fucked sideways, completely fucked, but Steve smiles small behind his scarf anyway. Tommy’s trying to fill the silence, something about baseball and little league and coaching, but Steve’s too lost in the warmth seeping through his body. The heat that makes him feel truly like a dancing flame, alive.

He’s still bad enough to know that once tonight is through, wherever he ends up, he’ll be left bereft with the consequences of his own actions. Probably something about disappearing in the middle of the night from his dad, something worse if his mind’s eye isn’t playing tricks. A lot of people will have questions as to why they’re seeing Tommy Hagan around a lot more—wandering into the Family Video just to talk to Steve, swooping into their local diner just to grab some fries with a wave at Steve, hanging around the arcade just to catch Steve beating his own high score. Nobody has to know what happened tonight.

But if he doesn’t talk, eventually he’ll self-immolate. Implode.

Steve Harrington, 19, Found Dead in Ditch; does not sound appealing. It wouldn’t make sense, he’s a great driver. He’d make it look like an accident, though. He’s still too much of a live-wire for a million and one questions, let alone all the queues being dispersed among so many people.

He needs help, he knows that. How does he ask for it, though? Who’s going to be less judgmental when he finds the strength to ask? Or is it going to be just as he feared? Under a microscope, people poking and prodding, local town pariah for being so mentally unwell. It happened to Eddie’s mom.

Maybe he’d be the only one to truly grasp it.

The conversations that have to be had, though, are daunting. Less daunting, however, than the knife still stowed in Tommy’s pocket.

He’s just sat in the passenger seat, reclined the way he likes with the door shut behind him, when Tommy abruptly turns on the car and starts messing with the dials on his vents. Pointing every single one at Steve, cranking that heat up. His radio is on, too, playing a mixtape on low volume. It’s the one Steve made him in their freshman year—“Nowhere Man” by The Beatles is just starting.

“Rubber Soul?” Steve finds himself mumbling.

“Hm?” Tommy stops moving for a moment, seatbelt halfway to being buckled, darting his eyes to the radio. “Oh—yeah, yeah! Remember, you showed me this album? One of my favorites, man. Always liked this song the most…you put it on this tape twice just to make sure I heard it.” He smiles at Steve. Bright and happy, his eyes squinting and his freckles bunching. It’s always been a great smile.

It’s been a while since it was pointed at him.

He likes it.

Wishes these were better circumstances. That they had been better people. That they’d survived. Maybe if they both weren’t so conniving and embarrassing and crude. One day, he thinks he can forgive Tommy. Not now, not for a while.

Tonight, though, he can learn to thank him.

Maybe that in itself is forgiveness enough for Steve, but even then, it takes more than a few good years of near radio silence to pass them by.

“Let me just”—Tommy whispers, leaning in. He reaches for the seatbelt, stretching it across Steve’s rigid body, and safely clicks it into place. There’s a moment where he lingers, staring, darting his eyes over every minuscule part of Steve’s face. Up close, there are definitely unshed tears in Tommy’s stare, but he just smiles. Small and safe, just for them, he smiles again. He pulls back to his own seat, one hand on the steering wheel, the other hovering over the gearstick.—“there we go, all tucked away. Sorry if the jacket is a little tight, it was the only winter coat I could find, guess it’s getting up there in years.”

Steve blinks and settles his head deeper into the headrest. Exhausted, he doesn’t say anything else.

Tommy seems to allow it, pulling away from the curb and back onto the empty street. He’s going at a snail’s pace, most likely because he doesn’t have chains on his tires. But he keeps his focus on the road ahead, unlike the him of previous years. Sitting passenger in Steve’s car, talking directly at him, not sparing a glance out the window. Instead, he looks forward, occasionally squeezing the leather of his steering wheel tighter. His eyes are darting, though. Nervous. Scared.

They pass by a few dark houses. Some small stores.

And then the gas station is pulling into view, Tommy slowing to turn into the parking lot, putting it in park. He turns to Steve, eyes big and dark in the dim light of his car. “I’m gonna go in there and fetch a large hot chocolate for you. D’you want me to grab anything else?”

He shrugs.

“Hey,” Tommy murmurs, “let me take care of you for a little bit, okay? Drive you around, get you some things you need.” He reaches out, gently squeezes Steve’s left forearm. His thumb is tracing the seam of the jacket’s sleeve. “You hungry?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers, “…maybe just some peanut butter cups?”

Tommy nods. “‘Course. Want some Reeses Pieces, too? I remember you liked those.”

“No, it’s okay. Shouldn’t put you out like that anyway.”

The fingers still resting on his forearm tighten. Squeezing so hard, Steve can feel the bite of his fingernails. “You aren’t putting me out, Stevie. It’s no big deal.”

Up close, he can make out the eye bags and dark circles under Tommy’s eyes. The tired fold of his smile. Laziness creeping back onto his face. Probably tired as hell.

“Just those things. Don’t need anything else, promise.”

For a brief, brief moment, Tommy remains rooted to his seat. Something flickers through his face. A shuttering shimmer of daylight, darkening in the edges the way a vignette photograph does. It’s not confusion or disbelief or anger. A sadness, maybe. A fear.

But then Tommy is heaving himself out of the car, keys still in the ignition, radio volume low, heaters pulling their weight.

Steve glances out the passenger side window. At the chainlink fence on the edges of this gas station parking lot, curled into itself and overgrown with wild weeds. Some needles are littered at the base of the fence—he wonders where those people are now. Were they looking for a little relief? Partying with the hard stuff for the sake of it? The thrill of it?

How many of them were like him?

How many were there?

His reflection is blinking in the glass of his window, peering out softly at the needles. What if there was only one? Just as young. Just as scared. With nobody there to pick them up, take them out of their head, be patient. Nobody, not even an old friend, not even a neighbor. He wonders if this person—this figment—was running from something. Feelings, responsibilities, the very thing they feared. Seeking shelter, semblance of a normal in the dark parking lot of their local gas station chain.

Maybe they made it out. Got away from their head in that manner. Maybe they see the needles, too. Putting themself in those shoes, some of them new, some of them dirty, some of them laced, some velcro. He hopes they got their peanut butter cups and hot chocolate. Hopes they got a soft ending; wherever they may have ended up; whoever they ended up being.

Glancing out the windshield, he spots Tommy looking back at him, as if checking to see if he’s still there. His stomach turns over, clenching hard at the reason why. The fact he put that worry there. Shit.

And then, finally, he gets a good catch of himself in his overhead mirror. There are barely any lights around that illuminate his face, just whatever shines outwards from within the little convenience store. His hair is tucked away in the beanie, not wild from the wind like he had been expecting. His cheeks are puffy, starting to redden with color, from the heat in the car. But his eyes.

Flat, pink, bloodshot, yet empty.

No wonder Tommy keeps looking at him. He put that worry there, in the absence of himself, he instilled that worry. The fear.

Tommy eventually comes back out, swinging into the car with a to-go carrier of hot chocolates, and a crinkling plastic bag in the crook of his left elbow. He settles in his seat, off loading the carrier to Steve, regaling him to divvying out the drinks. Once he’s in, buckled and warmed, he reaches for the ignition.

“Can we stay here for a minute?” Steve meekly asks.

All at once, Tommy stops in his tracks. Sitting back. “Y-yeah, dude, sure. Just figured you’d wanna see around first, give yourself some time to…to think, I guess.”

He hands off one of the hot chocolates when Tommy reaches out for it, saying in the process, “I feel like I’ve done enough thinking tonight. Enough for a lifetime.”

There’s a sharp inhale at that. “I get that,” Tommy murmurs, “seems like there’s a lot of empty time on my hands these days.”

Steve sniffs, takes a swig of his drink, hums unconsciously at the flavor. “What are you up to these days? ‘Sides saving my sorry, stupid ass.”

“You’re not stupid, Steve. Don’t say shit like that.” He’s momentarily frozen in his seat, as Tommy’s eyes ice over to him. “And I already told you, I’m glad you called me.”

“You were asleep. You could’ve told me that. I would’ve found somebody else.”

“I wanted to get you,” Tommy insists. “It doesn’t matter how much time or space or whatever other garbage is between us, if you call me, I’m gonna be there. Even if you need me to—fucking, I don’t know—tie your shoes or something.”

Steve traces the lid on his cup with the thick thumb of his mitten. Words caught splintered in his throat, dead.

At his silence, Tommy lets out a sad little sigh. And then he goes quiet for a moment, too.

The air isn’t exactly tense, but it isn’t pleasant either. Thick, heavy, and warm. Maybe it’s the heater vents, the million layers he was forced into, the hot chocolate in his hands. It’s not even a good hot chocolate—Wayne Munson is the king of that—but he can appreciate it for what it is. A chance to make sure that he isn’t going to collapse in on himself.

It’s an appeasement. In a way, he’s being convinced to stay.

“What would it take to show you that you’re worth caring for?” Tommy suddenly breaks through. “Because I…I know I was going to let you talk about it in your own time, but…Steve, I want to be there, but I can’t always be there. And I. I have to be honest, right?

“I’m always going to try and save you. I’ll always come to your side when you call me, even if it’s been months or, shit, even years. But what happens when the next time I’m out here in the cold, your toes are too far over the edge? What if I go to grab the back of your shirt and it rips in my grip? What if…what if you can’t be patient anymore?” He won’t look up from the lid of his cup. Won’t answer, not yet. Right, passes through his head, he’s right. You know he is. Tommy’s gaze is set on his face, shiny in his peripheral. “I love you with every piece of me, again, no matter what, I’m always gonna love you. Just…

“Steve, I’m worried one day I won’t reach you.

“Or that I’m gonna come across…that you won’t be there by the time I arrive,” he stresses, “and I don’t want any of that to happen. Seriously, whether you’re my best friend or fuckin’ best enemy or whatever, I still care about you. You were still my first friend, the first person outside of my family that I was hugging, my first camaraderie, and you were my first wake-up call.”

Finally, he drags his eyes up. Burning, heavy, aching, Steve blearily looks to Tommy. Caught up in the blur of his own vision, unable to see even two feet ahead of him. His whole everything aches. Every ember of his soul. The drip of his blood, rushing straight to his toes, up to his no longer numb fingers.

The world’s a fireplace around him, words sound like near deathbed confessions, and he can taste his stale breath cutting through the chocolate. He never did get his glass of water. Can’t believe he let his dad play into this. Into tonight.

“Tommy,” he chokes out. “I don’t…I don’t know what you want me”—

“Sorry,” Tommy whispers, “I’m sorry. That was a lot and all at once. I just care about you, man.” He reaches out, grabbing for Steve’s forearm once more. Fingers tense and tight in his jacket. “I’d hate to see you gone. You deserve to be here, to be cared for. Please, Steve, just let me care about you for tonight. Please.”

Bending forward, Steve places his hot chocolate in the cup holder closest to him. Having his ear closer to the speaker, he can hear “Nowhere Man” again—or what must be for the second time. Tommy was always trying to make Steve feel better, even if sometimes how he showed it seemed impossibly stupid; but maybe the song wasn’t purposefully put on the cassette twice, he has half a mind to realize, Tommy didn’t want him to feel dumb for what he did.

Slowly, he peels off his mittens, fingers sweating with anticipation to not be so damn hot. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Tommy begin to lurch forward, stop him, but Steve only works faster. Just so he can place the naked skin of his right palm over the back of Tommy’s. Their skin joins in a puddle of malleable warmth. And even further, the hand under his turns, palm now up, gripping tight to his fingers. He rests his head against the passenger window, looking out at the bottom of the fence again.

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmurs.

“Stop apologizing. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I”—

He’s silenced with an even tighter pressure to the tips of his fingers. So hard that he can feel the way Tommy’s wrist shakes with the force. “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m not asking for it. It’s not necessary.”

Steve nods against the window. Beanie pushing up, hair falling free against his forehead. “Okay,” he crackles.

Again, Tommy’s moving, his shirt rustling against the leather seat. But he’s closer, if the warmth of his shoulder bleeding into Steve’s says anything. “Hey”—he tugs their joined hands, Steve glances over—“you think you can talk to me? Tell me what happened?”

Shrugging, Steve sighs. “Just…what I said earlier. Trying to get some water, Dad’s in the kitchen starting shit. Guess I just…just pussy-ed out. Went running out the door.”

Tommy swallows hard. “Did he…”

“He tried to get his hands on me,” Steve admits quietly, confessing what Tommy already knew. “But he was so drunk, he swung and stumbled. Made it out of there with my hair still intact.” His shoulder hurts in this angle. But he doesn’t want to pull his hand away, not when it gets another squeeze, not when he earns Tommy’s thumb rubbing into his knuckles. “I think he’s waiting up on me,” he whispers, “I can feel him, even here in the car, standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the front door. Like he did when I had weed that one time…couldn’t lay on my back after what he did that night.”

“I hate him,” Tommy darkly murmurs. “I’d kill him if I wasn’t so much shorter than that fuckwad.”

Dryly, Steve snorts. Rolls his eyes. “You’d give him a swirly and his face would get all red from how angry he’d be. From humiliating him. We’d call ‘im cherry cheeks for a week. ’Til he caught on.”

In the reflection of his window, he can see Tommy nod in agreement, smug little smirk on his face. “Until he caught on.” He shifts again, shoulder melting into Steve’s. “And then you decided to go on a midnight walk…did he take your car keys or something?”

“I didn’t really think about the car, Tommy. I just went. It was a dumb thing to do. But, well, I don’t make good decisions,” he states bitterly.

“Well, you called me and now you’re here.”

Steve doesn’t say anything to that.

There’s a squeeze to his hand that has him looking over. “So…did you…were you planning on…”

He shakes his head. “Guess I grabbed the knife without thinking. Self-defense or something, I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Tommy mutters. And there he goes, squeezing at Steve’s fingers again. It’s nice, though. The contact, warmth, the reminder. He twists his head so that they’re looking straight on each other, even as his neck contorts uncomfortably. “I’m glad I got to the park when I did,” he murmurs, “the world wouldn’t be the same without you, Steve. It really, really wouldn’t.”

“You’re just saying that,” Steve mumbles.

“Hey, I mean it. Who else would be there to call your dad cherry cheeks? Tell him he looks like a big, ugly oaf?” He snorts at that, a smile itching to make itself known. Tommy nudges him, shakes him, smirks. “Also, dude, the world needs a little bit more light, don’t you think? Who else is gonna call me on my bullshit? Knock me upside the head to tell me how much of a bigoted turd I’m being. You keep the balance, you bring the laughter, you bring the warmth, man. Nothing would be the same if you just…”—poof!—“left,” he whispers.

“Think someday I’ll believe you.”

Tommy shrugs. “Someday is better than never. But you better. Because I’m right.”

“When have you ever been right about something?”

“Well, I may be kinda thick in the head…but when have I lied to you?”

“I don’t know, think I can think of a few…”

“Those were well meaning lies! Like for your birthday that one year! You almost saw me wrapping up that new pack of baseballs—no way in hell was I going to let your snooping little ass ruin the surprise I had been sweating over for hours!”

There’s a big fat smile on both their faces, mirrored in each other’s all too expressive eyes. Tommy’s alight, Steve’s finally full. The laughter they share trickles out into shaky, steadying breaths. And for a moment, things are just like normal. Another late night with his old best friend, kicking rocks and talking shit. A time before.

Oh so before.

Tommy nudges him again. “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

Steve chuckles, shoulders jumping with it. “Sure, dude,” he sighs, “let’s get outta here.”

The hand in his lingers for a beat, then two, a third. It tenses, pressing deep into his knuckles. And retreats. Thrown into his lap is the crinkling plastic bag from the store. Inside are at least three packs of peanut butter cups—way more than he asked for.

He looks up at Tommy, ready to protest. Instead, he gets a wink. “Our secret, Stevie-boy, you peanut butter fiend.” And then they’re off, driving aimlessly on the empty streets of Hawkins.

As the sun begins to rise, coloring their cheeks with tangible warmth, snow beading on the sidewalk, brown wrappers tossed aside, Steve is somewhat content. Rustling with nerves, knowing full well that Tommy still has that knife. But he’s…relaxed, nerveless, almost free.

All without the pain. All without the task of planning. All without the fear of saying goodbye—Steve is free.

They wind down familiar roads. Until, eventually, Tommy cracks with a yawn.

“Getting tired?” Steve mumbles.

“Oh, I’ve been tired. It’s fine, though. I can be out a little bit longer.”

“Nah, you don’t gotta. Think I’m ready to hit they hay, dude.”

Tommy sniffs. Runs a hand over his mouth, lets it fall back down to his lap, hitting the handle of the knife with the hilt of his palm. “Where do you want me to take you, Stevie?”

“I…I have an idea. But, uh, you’ll promise to keep the secret to yourself?”

He shifts nervously, catching Tommy give him a confused little quirk. “As long as it’s not gonna hurt you, sure. What…this sounds big.”

Steve swallows, nods, squeezes his hands into fists until his nails just begin to bite. The passenger window is enticing. “Remember that one secret years and years ago? When, uh, when we were kinda tipsy and hanging out by the pool and it was just us and”—

“The kiss thing, right?”

He inhales sharply. “Yeah, the…the kiss thing.”

“You can talk to me, Steve. I’m an asshole, but I’m not Brutus, man. Not gonna betray you for spilling your guts.”

“You promise you’ll keep it to yourself?”

In the blink of an eye, Tommy is pulling over to the curb. Slow and careful like. Twisting in his seat to face Steve, he only swivels his head to follow suit. “My ears are yours and my lips are sealed, remember? Hell, you don’t even need to tell me if you think it’s not safe to do so.”

Steve nods, slowly, absorbing. “Um…I-I have a partner.”

“You have a boyfriend?” Tommy asks, voice dropped low like anybody within a 100 mile radius could hear them. It’s a startling question, but it’s a soft one nonetheless.

“Yeah…he…he’s really good at taking care of me, y’know. And we look out for each other. He tells me I can come to him any time, if I need anything…anything.”

“Is it okay if I know who it is? Or is that…”

“I mean, I figured you’ll need to know to take me there? But, uh, Eddie Munson? Forest Hills?”

Tommy’s eyebrows raise slightly. He blinks. Takes in a slow breath. Then, quietly, “At the far end of the park, right? Near those swings?”

“Um…y-yeah. Yeah, near the swings.” Without responding, Tommy turns towards the steering wheel, shifting gears, pulling away from the curb. He makes a U-turn, back the way towards Forest Hills. “Is that…you’re not gonna say anything, right? Please don’t say anything.”

“My lips are sealed,” Tommy repeats. “I’m just…little surprised, I guess. Not about—Not that you two are, like, gay and into each other or something. Just…you guys have things to talk about? Get along okay?”

“He’s crafty. So, sometimes, we’ll watch a game together—whatever’s on—and he’ll listen to me rant and cheer and stuff, ask me about the stats…usually, he sits next to me and paints or draws or whatever. We keep each other entertained.”

Tommy nods in his peripheral. “Good, that’s good. Does he know about your…your mom? Your dad?”

“You’re the only one who knows about my mom. Figured it didn’t matter to bring it up, I guess. I mean, Nancy might know, but…I don’t know. It’s not important.”

“‘Course it’s important, Steve. Her death kinda hit you sideways…in a lot of ways, actually. It’s good, y’know, to talk about that kinda stuff. Plus, well, I’m sure Eddie would understand, right?” Steve shrugs at that. Tommy must be able to see it. “You don’t know about his mom? That’s a conversation you guys should have, dude. That was pretty big, last I remember.”

“Why do you know that?”

“This kid was picking on Eddie back in high school. Picking on him about his mom. Think I gave that kid a black eye or two…what a shitty thing, shitting on somebody ‘cause their fucking parent died.” Tommy begins to slow on the road, blinker clicking as he signals turning into the Forest Hills drive. “But he’d understand, that’s all I’m saying. Plus, you need more people in your corner. More people to rely on. Not that—I mean, I love being there for you, dude. I just…it would be good.

“When my parents divorced, I relied on you, sure. But I had a few other people, too. Some teachers. Principal Higgins. Even Mrs. Byers…which kinda shocks me, considering how I treated her kid. Makes me feel sick thinking about that.”

Steve blinks, notices they’re outside Eddie’s trailer, parked next to his shit-box of a van. He gets a good look at Tommy’s side profile. Gently aged. “You grew up,” he states.

“Best fucking feeling in the world. Should’a followed in your footsteps, Stevie. Should’a quit being an asshole when it was time.”

“But you did eventually.”

Tommy gives a slow nod, unbuckling himself. “Yeah, well. There’s a time for everything.” He looks over to Steve. God, his big brown eyes look even bigger in the sunlight. Even gentler. Even sweeter. “Can I walk you up to the door?”

“I don’t know…Eddie might”—

“I kinda need to talk to him anyway. It’s important.”

“Yeah, okay…okay.”

By the time they make it up the steps, peanut butter cups stored deep in Steve’s pocket, Eddie’s already swinging the door open. There’s a look of apprehension on his face, darting his eyes between Steve and Tommy. A bite behind his lip that he’s very noticeably trying to hide away. “Stevie,” he greets softly, “what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Um…I…I had a bad night,” Steve quietly admits, “thought I’d come here, after Tommy helped me.”

The screen door opens wider. Eddie’s face goes soft, deeper. “Everything alright? Nobody’s hurt, are they?”

Steve swallows, shifts uneasily. “I don’t wanna talk about it right now, please. Just…can I hang out for a bit? Maybe nap?”

Eddie’s already placing a hand on the center of Steve’s back, ushering him in. “Of course, just go in and get comfortable, I’ll meet you inside in a second.”

As soon as he steps inside, the door shuts behind him. Muffled conversation is all he hears, retreating to Eddie’s room. In a matter of minutes, stuffy jacket taken off, he’s dozing.

——— “Alright, what’re you doing here?” Eddie asks, finally addressing Tommy.

In front of him, Tommy shifts uncomfortably. “Listen, I know you don’t trust me. I get it. But I…I just need to talk to you, okay? It’s about Steve.”

“If you’re here to talk shit on him after he was lookin’ like that, then you can take your sorry ass”—

“He called me, ‘bout a couple hours ago, sobbing on the phone. His dad’s being a real piece of work. Just a total shitbag, okay? And he called me from the park by his house, talking to me about his dad, and I couldn’t just leave him there. Kept zoning out on the phone, sobbing, I couldn’t just leave him there.” Tommy thrusts his hand into his pocket, producing a pocket knife from it.

Eddie startles back slightly, a half-step backwards. “Why do you”—

“I found him there, completely out of it on a bench, with this fucking knife in his hand. It was open. Like he was…and I took it from him, kept it from him. Took him around town for a bit, trying to get him not to spook, y’know?” The knife is warm, placed heavily in Eddie’s palm, fingers curling tight around it. “He was going to do it. If I hadn’t gotten there, if he had never called me…I don’t even want to think about it.

“But he told me that you guys take care of each other. And he told me that if he had something, he could go to you for it. I’m just. I’m worried, okay? I can’t always be there to save him, he needs more people in his corner—people who are not going to judge him—because I can’t fathom with”—Tommy’s voice wobbles, thickens—“with losing him. And I know you’d be absolutely wrecked, if what he told me ‘bout your relationship is true”—

“You know about us?”

“That’s not important,” Tommy emphasizes. “Just don’t let him get this, okay? Keep an eye on him. He needs it. I care about him, even if it doesn’t seem that way, I do. He was my whole world up until our junior year. If something happened to him—fuck—I don’t know what I’d do. I don’t know…I don’t…”

Eddie’s not used to people crying around him. The only people who have are, well, Wayne and Steve.

But Tommy’s shoulders shake, his whole back heaving. Each sob caught on a choked breath. His eyes squinting into themselves, skin going splotchy with the effort.

Without a care for image, Eddie is stepping forward again, wrapping Tommy in a tight hug.

He doesn’t get Steve and Tommy’s whole dynamic. Not at all. All he knows is that they had a falling out. But he gets it, calling on the past to try and ground the present, that’s something Eddie’s been doing his whole life. Nostalgia or something. Relying on the lucidity of memories to bring him back. But if Tommy says something’s bad, sobbing so bad he’s choking with it, then it’s something worth tucking away.

And with that knife heavy in Eddie’s hand, he sees what Tommy’s doing.

He understands it.

He fucking gets it.

“Sorry,” Tommy muffles into his shoulder, “shit, I’m sorry. The world wouldn’t be the fuckin’ same if he—god, shit—he’s too good to do shit like that.”

Eddie’s squeezing so tight his knuckles hurt. “I’ve got him,” he swears into Tommy’s hair, “I’m not letting him get away like this again. I promise, man, I fucking promise.”

“Be easy on him,” Tommy murmurs, “he’s easily spooked.”

“I know, fuck, I know.”

Tommy pats him on the back in that dude-bro way. And then he’s pulling away, wiping hastily at his eyes. “If you guys need anything, you can call me. I know I’m not the best person, but I can try. Fuck, for anybody in Steve’s life, I can try.”

Swallowing down his own wave of tears, Eddie nods. “You in the yellow pages?”

“Yup. Leonard Hagan’s residence. Think it’s somewhere in the 130s.”

“I’ll reach out. ‘Specially if I can’t get to him.”

“I got him some peanut butter cups. Works wonders with trying to get him to open up.”

There’s a small little smile on Tommy’s face, knowing and soft. Eddie chuckles airily. “Yeah, he’s a peanut butter goblin or something. Think he ate eighty percent of my last jar, honest to God.”

“He’ll do that to you. Think he still owes me at least three jars.” Tommy reaches out again, patting Eddie on the shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Eddie. Keep an eye on him for me, yeah?”

“Nothing else I’d rather do.”

☎️—————☎️

[darlingdaisyfarm]

i entered tumblr half crying and now im absolutely howling. this is so canon i cant even put my thoughts together, it's so sad

my headcanon for when stan dies is that his only request is for dipper and mabel to commit massive credit card fraud using his name before anyone else know he's dead

“have a shopping spree courtesy of your old grunkle! that way i can cheat those bastards one last time :) - love stan”

yeah it's horrible and nothing is ever going to be the same but waddles gets his own hoverchair + popcorn maker, and they laugh for the first time since finding out

[iamnotlookingidonotseeit]

fascinating revelations out of my dad's professional coaching of the whole family today

my mom scored astonishingly high on empathy and caring for a woman who seemed to find it next to impossible to express that to me

my dad has done an insane amount of work to be so warm and personable considering that his natural inclination is towards strong reserve rooted in anxiety (just like me!!)

my sister shocked - SHOCKED 🙄 - to learn that she scores almost zero in empathy AND very high on manipulation

actually shocking reveal that my sister always knew she was my mom's favorite. like I kind of assumed she was mean to both of us but apparently most of the biting comments were for me

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

reading dungeon meshi

[readwritealldayallnight]

You had never seen him look so utterly human before

Laid up amongst the scratchy, thin sheets of the hospital bed, with only a plain surgical mask covering the bottom half of his face, everything else above Ghost’s shoulders exposed to your eyes for the first time, while his own eyes have been shut for nearly four days straight now

You had never seen your Lieutenant without the signature mask that haunts the dreams of even the deadliest foreign mercenaries, had never seen him look anything less than intimidating, commanding, powerful without so much as even trying to, his presence alone striking fear into those who’ve heard whispers of the fearsome Ghost

Now however, with an IV hooked up to his arm and a nurse that comes to check on his vitals periodically, it’s hard to picture him as such a gruesome soldier, rather than a simple man who bleeds like any other human

In spite of the evident vulnerable position he finds himself in, his pale skin appearing nearly translucent under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital, there was no denying that Ghost remained someone to be feared

A particularly nasty blow to the head during a field op gone wrong had knocked the burly soldier out cold, and though doctors were optimistic he would make a full recovery, they couldn’t exactly tell the extent of the damage done until he woke up

You and the men that made up the remainder of the 141 had been taking turns remaining by his side, not wanting for Ghost to wake up alone, whenever that would be exactly

You wonder how he would feel about this, the fact that you are currently the one on shift for the unofficial rotation of visitors who’ve stuck by his bedside throughout his injury

You’re well aware of the fact that the Lieutenant doesn’t like you, has never liked you, and probably never will, though you’ve never been able to get a straight answer as to why

From the moment you’d met him, he’d been cold to you, distant, making no effort to get to know you nor welcome you to the team, opposite to the way the Sergeants and Captain had welcomed you with open arms and hearts

No matter how much you poked and prodded at them for an answer, some sort of inclination as to what you could possible have done wrong to have Ghost dislike you so much, the men always bit their tongues

You saw the way they exchanged knowing glances and sly smirks, believing they were being more cunning than they really were, insisting to you with carefully chosen words that it wasn’t something you should worry about too much, that the LT had a different way of expressing his feelings than most

“So long as he doesn’t wake up and want to ‘express his feelings’ by punching me in the face for being the first thing he opens his eyes to.” You thought to yourself, glancing up from your book at his still sleeping form, shaking your head at your silly thought

No, he’d never been particularly kind to you, but he’d also never gone out of his way to be cruel to you either you supposed

Perhaps he found you to be more of a nuisance than anything else, a pest he couldn’t seem to swat away hard enough, an annoying pimple he couldn’t quite pop

Your eyes scanned over his face once more, cursing whatever Gods might be listening that the man hiding beneath that Ghost facade had to be so … intriguing

You could see old scars running across his face, some of them peeking out from under the surgical mask while others ran across his brow, his crooked nose evident even under the fabric of the mask

He was handsome in his own, rugged way, a fact you were displeased to learn when you first saw him laying here, switching off with Soap who’d been sat at his side earlier

Ghost may not care for you, not that he had given you many reasons or chances to care for him, but you cared about your remaining members of the task force, and knew how important Ghost was to them, and so for the 141, you’d do your duty and care for a Ghost who apparently wanted no such love and tenderness from you

You looked the large man over, brows furrowing when your eyes landed on his neck, noting that the pillow supporting his head was getting a little flat

You stood from your chair, setting your book down, and approched him carefully, almost as though any sudden movements would somehow wake the comatose man from his slumber

As gently as you could, you attempted to adjust the pillow behind him to hopefully be more comfortable, quickly realizing just how heavy he was when he was nothing more than dead weight

You slowly slipped your hands behind his shoulders, pulling him forward as best as you could until you were able to adjust the pillow one handed

Slipping your hands back down his shoulders to ease him back into the bed, your palms naturally ending up sliding onto the back of his neck, the tips of your fingers brushing against the hair at the base of his skull, an involuntary shiver running through you at what you realized too late was a bit of an intimate touch with a man who’d been touch starved for years

It was hard to say who was more stunned at first, with how quickly things transpired, when you suddenly felt a pair of strong hands reaching up to grip your wrists and hold them in place

You hadn’t even realized you had let out a gasp as your eyes flicked down and met none other than Ghost’s own wide open orbs only inches away from you, staring right at you as though he was seeing a ghost

Stunned into silence, worried that you truly were about to end up on the receiving end of Ghost’s anger for having invaded his space like that, you barely had enough time to process that he’d somehow woken from his coma when his grip on your wrists tightened further, and somehow, whether it was a trick of the light or you imagination, his gaze softened before his scratchy, out of use voice said:

“Love.”

Your ears were ringing, hardly taking notice of the way a flurry of alarms and bells had gone off as soon as Ghost had woken up, his heart rate soaring through the roof and alerting staff

Medical personnel rushed into the room before you could wrap your mind around any of what was happening, Ghost’s grip on your never loosening until the doctor finally approached you both, sensing the tension in the air

“Lieutenant Riley,” the man said, gently landing a hand in Ghost’s bicep to hopefully help him ease his strong grip on you. “Let her go.”

His grip on you disappeared instantly, as though your skin had suddenly burned him, but his eyes never wavered from your own, even as he began mumbling unintelligibly beneath his medical mask

“What was that?” The doctor asked, trying to bring calm back to the room and ease Ghost into a state where he could be properly examined

“My girl.” The Lieutenant’s gravelly voice echoed throughout the sterile room

“Pardon?”

“My girl.” Ghost repeated, never once breaking eye contact with your now widened eyes

“Do- do you know who this is, Lieutenant?” The doctor posed the question, slowly gesturing towards you with a confusion that was spreading amongst you all

“‘Course I do.” Ghost spoke with certainty. “That’s my love.”

Part two

[pwnyta]

Ok another comic idea... where Maria lives. Maybe some like rogue GUN guys back then somehow saved her after Gerald and Shadow was gone.

Yeah. They wanted to raise a Robotnik mind for themselves... unfortunately in the end they got stuck with Ivo. (Just another bunch of people who would have preferred HER)

Anyways Ivo and Stone found the secret GUN base that was storing her in stasis.

Stones priority is always Ivo. Ivo remembers what Gerald said, knows what people do... and hes still a little jealous his family never cared about HIM half as much as this dead girl.

I forgot the dialog... something about the machines failing and Ivo understanding the pressure to save someone he cares about. Trying to manipulate Shadow to working for him

Discretion bond with the villainous husbands.

Emotional support sycophriend is a bandaid for the chip on his shoulder.

IDK I just think itd be funny if they were villains, manipulating, killing, trying to take over the world... but also they just stopped to care for each other...

Oh theres a girl unconscious on the surgical table? Well w/e my husband is feelin a type of way. She'll have to wait.

Hes so handsome when hes confident.

...And after all the villainy... they still end up kind of an actual family.

Stone earned that title with literal blood, sweat, and tears.

And thats all I got... (Sorry for bullying Shadow a bit... its supposed to be a happy end for all of them.)

IDK Ivo and Stone get married and adopt Ivos long lost cousin (whos definitely technically older that his husband) and her Hedgehog brother after first trying to manipulate them into working for them.

Ivos not that good at taking over the world he is good at cobbling together a little freak family tho. Practice makes perfect I guess.

[giannaln4]

Wet Dream

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Lando had a wet dream and he needs to take care of it.  (1.7k words)

warnings: mdni, + 18, smut, masturbation, fingering, unprotected sex, needy!lando

a/n: this might or might not be inspired solely by this picture. i'm not gonna lie, this is pure smut. i apologise in advance. also i'm sorry for the abrupt ending 😭 i never know how to finish these. anyway, please send some requests!

↺ back to navigation— send me a request!

The only thing that could be heard in your shared room were your moans, loud and desperate for a release. 

You were on top of Lando as he held onto your hips for dear life, his eyes closing as the overwhelming feeling of his incoming orgasm started to grow. 

“Are you close, baby?” He managed to spit out. He needed to make sure he didn’t come before you, so his thumb landed on your clit to bring you closer to the edge. Your moans were intensifying, and god, he loved the look on your face when you were about to come.

He opened his eyes and… nothing. Nothing but pure darkness. 

He looked down at his crotch, only to spot his painful cock making a tent under the blankets. His breathing was heavy, and he was sweating a lot. 

Fuck. 

He released the bedsheets he didn’t realise he was fisting and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. 

He looked next to him and spotted you there, peacefully sleeping and completely unaware of the dream he just had. 

He closed his eyes again, hoping he would be able to ignore his painful cock, but of course he couldn’t, because as soon as he closed his eyes, flashes of his wet dream and how undeniably beautiful you looked riding him came back to him. 

He took another deep breath as he opened his eyes, once again encountering the dark room. His hand was slowly sneaking down the blankets, and when he finally found his bulge, he gave it a hard squeeze for some relief. He let out an involuntary moan, not loud enough so that it would wake you up, but the room was so silent he thought it would. 

He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it in, so instead of trying to relieve himself right next to you, he knew the right thing would be to go somewhere else and not disturb your sleep. 

He got up carefully and left the bed, looking back at you, before locking himself in the bathroom. 

He sat on the closed toilet, pulling down his boxers and finally freeing his aching member. He squeezed it again, and again, and again, before he started stroking it slowly. His grip was firm, and his groans were low as he finally gave it what it so desperately needed. 

Using his spit and the pre cum leaking from his tip, his strokes got faster, and Lando rolled up his shirt and trapped it between his teeth as he looked down at his hand, his mind trying to replace it with your pretty mouth. With that image in his mind, it got harder to contain his moans. 

⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ 

You rolled over, expecting to find your boyfriend to cuddle, like you always did. Instead, all you found was an empty spot next to you. It was still warm, so you knew he hadn’t been gone for too long. 

You closed your eyes again, figuring he’d be back in just a moment, but you heard something that made you open them again. A loud breath that you thought could only mean something had happened. 

You got up immediately, worried as you made your way to the bathroom. But once you were close enough, it clicked. You finally understood what he was doing. 

You were about to turn around, go back to bed, and pretend like it never happened, figuring he needed some privacy to finish his business, but something between your legs was begging you to help him out and calm down whatever had gotten into him.

⋆｡° ✮ ⋆｡° ✮ 

He was being louder than he intended, but it felt so good he didn’t even realise. His shirt was still between his teeth and his eyes now squeezed shut as he tried to bring himself to a sweet release.

His mind was replaying his dream, echoes of both of your moans filling his ears and the vivid image of you on top of him, something he wished he could plaster in his eyelids, until he heard a knock on the door that made him stop what he was doing 

“You okay in there?” He heard you ask from the other side of the door. Shit. 

“Huh?” Was all he managed to say. 

“Can I come in?”

“No!” He was quick to reply, “I’ll be right out.”

He couldn’t help but be embarrassed, feeling like a teenage boy who was just caught getting off where he wasn’t supposed to. He was ready to just go back out and act like he wasn’t just jerking off to a dream he just had.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” You asked. You didn’t hear him say anything after that, and you instantly regretted interrupting him. Maybe that was something he needed to do alone. Maybe he needed a release but didn’t need… you. 

Those thoughts were interrupted when you heard shuffling inside, followed by footsteps that got louder as he got closer to the door. 

Lando opened it, his hair messy and his shirt wet from stuffing it in his mouth. “Yes, please,” he said with begging eyes. 

You crashed your lips into him, pulling him back to the bed. 

“I can’t believe you were doing that without me,” you said against his lips. 

“I didn’t wanna bother you.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you into his lap, hands falling on your hips as he brought you closer to him. 

You moaned when you felt his hard cock against you. “And keep this from me?” You asked as you moved your hips.

He bucked his hips involuntarily, the friction feeling delicious against your wet core. You kept moving on top of him as he discarded your sleeping garments, falling somewhere on the floor. You decided to do the same for him, getting rid of his shirt and running your hands up and down his muscles.

Neither of you could control the sounds that were falling from your lips, and yours only got louder when his right hand sneaked between your almost naked bodies to find your folds. He pushed one finger inside you, pumping vigorously.

“Mhm, already so wet for me,” he mumbled against your skin, his lips travelling down your neck.

“Couldn’t help it, it sounded like you were having fun in the bathroom,” you said, and you could feel a smirk creeping on his lips.

“Well, you drive me crazy even in my dreams.”

“Is that what happened?”

He hummed in response. “You should’ve seen how pretty you looked riding me.”

“Let’s make it come true then.” You pushed him on his back and got rid of his last piece of clothing, letting you see how needy his cock was. 

You admired him for a moment, and you could see him struggling to keep his hands to himself. When you finally decided you were ready, you started crawling to get on top of him, your hands landing on his bare chest.

“Ready?” 

“I’m always ready for you.” He replies, as sweet as ever. “Fuck, you’re so wet and beautiful,” Lando said, holding onto your hips as you began to get comfortable, both of your legs on either side of him. He gave your hips a hard squeeze as you got situated, just like in his dream.

You finally took his cock in your hand, stroking it slowly as you guided it to your dripping hole, a sigh of relief leaving your mouths when you sank down.

He groaned as his grip on your hips tightened when you lifted and sank back down onto him slowly.

“Feels good, baby?”

“So, so good.” His head fell back into the pillows when you rolled against him, and you couldn’t help but smile when he whimpered again. After a moment, he looked up at you. “Y/N?” He moaned your name, but it sounded more like a question.

You brushed a stray of his dark curls off his forehead. “Yeah?”

He let out another moan, his eyes falling to where you’re connected before meeting your eyes. “Faster, please.” And you listened, you began to ride him faster. “Just like that, baby,” Lando cried out.

You moaned as his dick spread you out. You began to bounce down faster and harder. Lando was losing his mind as he watched you move faster, your nails scratching down his torso. He was filling you so good he had you rolling your eyes to the back of your head every time his cock hit that sweet spot.

“Not gonna last long,” he warned you, his thumb finding your clit without even looking, although his eyes were on you the entire time, all of you, how your pussy looked as it swalowed his cock, how your boobs bounced with every roll of your hips, how your face contortioned in pleasure, and how your mouth fell open to let out the prettiest sounds he’s ever heard. He didn’t dare to look away; in case he was dreaming again, he didn’t wanna miss a single detail, and let’s face it, he didn’t wanna wake up this time.

“I’m close,” you breathed out, your legs burning from riding him, but you didn’t care; you only cared about how good he felt inside you.

“Cum with me, baby.” Both his hands returned to your hips, gripping them as he planted his feet on the bed to thrust up into you and help you move faster and more aggressively, trying to push you both over your edges.

Your own hand went to rub small circles where you were missing him as your other one fell on his shoulder to hold onto something, and before you knew it, you were coming around him. Your toes curled into the sheets, and your body trembled on top of his, making you fall forward and collapse across his defined chest.

"Fuck,” he whimpered when you squeezed him repeatedly. 

Lando had to do all the work himself, thrusting his hips upwards to meet yours, because your body wouldn’t and couldn’t move anymore as your orgasm racked through you. With four hard thrusts to your cunt, his load of cum shot up into your pussy and coated your slick walls.

Your bodies laid together as you both tried to catch your breath. His hand was rubbing your back, and his lips left a kiss on your temple, something he always did after you had sex.

“So, you had a sex dream?” You asked after a moment of silence. Lando chuckled at your question, kissing your shoulder softly before replying.

“And you just made it come true.”

[hyperfixiation-station]

Behind Enemy Lines Pt.1

CW: Torture, Canon-typical violence, talk of derealization, disassociation Summary: You were a friendly medic, captured years ago and held prisoner, forced to do do the bidding of your captors. Years later, a man by the name of Ghost is dragged in and changes the trajectory of your life. A/N: I had severe ADHD, and i am unmedicated rn, and it makes it really hard to work on things unless I get the hyperfocused drive for it, so I'm sorry I'm so bad at making the other parts to my fics. Know that I will never abandon them. it just might take me a while. idea part 2

You fought back, at first. Way back when you first got captured, taken from your base camp and dragged through miles and miles of harsh terrain, blindfolded and bound. A medic you were, yes. But your team had trained you with the best of them. You spent the whole time trying to escape, kicking and screaming until they bound your legs and gagged you. You spent the first month of captivity refusing to talk to them, hissing and spitting and pretending their punches didn’t hurt. But it didn't take you long to realize it was better to cooperate, or to at least be civil. Civility got you less broken bones, less pain, more rations, more sleep. Cooperation didn’t come till later, when you finally realized your team wasn't coming for youthey were dead but you didn't know that.

Surprisingly, the whole mouth-getting-sewn-shut didn't happen till a couple years in... they were torturing someone, a man who said he had kids and a wife at home, whose only wish was that they left something recognizable of him so they could get some closure. You begged them to stop. Begged them to stop when his wounds became too numerous to count, too much for you to handle. Begged because you started to care for him as he told you about his son and daughter, how they want him home for Christmas(You didn't have the heart to tell him Christmas was 6 days ago) Told them that he would die no matter what you did if they continued. Well, they didn't stop, and he did die... and you found yourself ringing in the new year by being strapped to a table.

“We warned you to stop talking with him.” They said as they clamped the metal shut over your forehead and chin, holding you in place. “We told you to not get attached, but since you can’t seem to do it on your own, we’ll help you.” The feeding tube came 2 weeks later, shoved up your nose when they realized you were starving...they couldn't lose their favorite medic of course.

You stopped paying attention to the passage of time after that, spent most of your days drifting in and out of reality, moving through the motions with a practiced ease. And it would have remained that way, if it wasn’t for a man in a skull mask with a team- a family- looking for him. 

Your first introduction to him ended up with you getting a broken nose. Per usual, you were shoved into the cell, medical kit in hand, ready to fix up whatever damage your captors had done the their poor prisoner.

The mask he had been wearing when you saw him dragged in was gone, and he had a gash that went all the way through his cheek that would need stitching up. You pull out your equipment, moving slowly towards his bleeding face. 

he headbutted you the moment you got close enough for him to reach, and the crunch of bone and the gush of warm blood followed, not that you noticed. You were still in that dreamlike state, not quite tether to reality in the way you should be. You barely noticed when they tranqued him, and the only reason you didn't finish his stitches is because you passed out too(it’s hard to breathe through a bloody, broken nose)

The next time you approach more carefully, but he’s no trouble. Mostly because they left him completely strapped to the table this time. Today was a rare day, a time when you  could actually feel your feet on the ground rather than just see them. You feel bad as you wipe him down, your eyes flicking over the myriad of scars on his body. What’s one more you think to yourself as you get to work stitching a stab wound to his thigh. Just barely missed the artery here…that could have been bad news. Okay tie it off and- there we go. I think the only other thing that need to- oh, is he…talking to me? I should probably pay attention to that.

“-here?” His voice is gravely, though you suppose yours would be too after being tortured. He stares at you expectantly, and you shrug. You don’t know what he said, and even if you did, you couldn’t answer. You just move to his wrist, snapping the bone back in place. He inhales sharply, but doesn’t make an actual sound, which surprises you. But you don’t dwell on it, wrapping a bandage around his arm and moving to exit the room. 

“Y’ no’ g’nna lemme off?” His voice sounds, “they said y’ would.” You spin around, staring at him. You're not stupid. And even if your…bosses had said that, you still wouldn’t do it. Being trapped in a room with a man who is at least a foot taller than you and looks like he could kill a man with his glare? No thank you. 

You take a step back, heading towards the door. The man lets out a sound you would barely qualify as a laugh. “Sm’rt then.” He says to himself, “No’ gonna be that easy.” 

The next time you go in, you can't help but wonder what they want from this man. By now they usually would have killed him off. Oh well, not your job to wonder. You clean him up, splinting the fingers they had broke when he talks to you again.

"why don't y' let me die?" He says, voice just as gravely as before, "Put me outa m' misery?" You don't respond, just keep taping his hand. IT's something you ad asked yourself, right at the beginning. It would be kinder for you to just let your patients die. But you couldn't do it. Partially because you were punished anytime someone died before your captors wanted them to, but also because you were a medic. YOu were there to heal. You couldn't stomach letting someone die by your hand.

"Answer me!" The man snarls, bringing you back to the present, "For god's sake y' never talk, fuckin' mute." You don't respond, of course. Just finish your task and leave him to his thoughts.

He’s angrier after that time, you’ve noticed. The few times you're actually present, he’s fighting you. Usually not with words, but he bucks and doesn’t hold still. He’s tried to grab your medical supplies countless times, and one time you actually had to be pulled out because he jerked his arm while you were stitching him and somehow managed to drive the needle into your own hand. The few times he does actually yell at you, you’re usually not paying attention. You can catch words like “Dishonorable”  and “Disgraceful”. You aren’t entirely sure of the context of the words, but you can guess. You’ve treated enough prisoners who think that you are the world's worst human being, a blight to the medical field, to guess what he's trying to tell you. 

It's funny though, this man so full of hate. Because, for the first time in goodness knows how long, your feet are on the ground, and your head is level. Something about this man, his angry, uncrushed demeanor, even after weeks of torture, stirs emotion in you that you can’t quite identify. And maybe you should be grateful, thankful your head is on right, but you're not. You so desperately want to go back to that place of apathy and detachment, where your emotions weren’t so strong, were the pains of mishealed bones and poorly healed scars didn’t plague your waking moments. 

Or maybe it wasn’t the man- The Ghost, as you found out he was called. Maybe it was the fact that something in the air had changed. The air was electric, charged with tension so thick you could feel it even alone in your cot. They were watching you, you could tell. Could feel their eyes tracking your movements in a way they hadn’t since first giving you freedom to move around. 

You're not sure why. It’s not like you have anyone to go home to. You were an only child, and your parents had died long before you reached 18. All you had was your team, a team that had seemingly abandoned you. So why would you leave? There was nowhere to go. And yet they watched you. Was it because you were becoming more aware, more grounded then you had been in a long while? Was it the man, Ghost, who had them on edge? 

The answer came two days later. You were in Ghost's cell again, desperately packing gauze into a gaping hole on his side. You don’t know what had happened, but for the first time in years you were dragged from your cell, your captors muttering under their breath in a language you still didn’t understand as they thrust you into his cell. Blood was everywhere. Your best guess was that Ghost had been struggling and an instrument had slipped and gouged out a hole in his side. So here you are, packing gauze into the wound as you try to figure out what to do to keep him alive with your rudimentary supplies. 

You pack another piece of gauze in just as the door goes flying open. Men, dressed in black, wearing the same mask Ghost was, come bursting in. 

“Get back!” The one in the front yells at you, gun pointed in your face. You shake your head, hands pressed against Ghost’s wound. 

“Now!” You make a protesting noise, trying to gesture with your chin. The man looks down, eyes widening. 

“Aw shit- are you the medic?” You nod almost desperately. The man looks at you again, staring at your hands. They are shaking, pressed against the wound as you try to keep Ghost from bleeding out. 

“Fix him.” The man snaps. You shake your head and look up at the man, trying to communicate that you need more supplies. 

“Use your words.” The man gabs the gun at you, indicating he wants you to get on with it. You stomp your foot, shaking your head again. 

“What, what's that supposed..…you can’t speak, can you?” You nod, glad he finally got it. The man groans, lowering his gun.

“You’re coming with us, but you make one wrong move, and I mean one, I will put a bullet through your brain before you can even speak. Got it?” He gestures to the other two men with him, and together you lift Ghost up, carrying him out to safety.

A/N- anyways, here's part one. Sorry if it disappoints anyone

tags, sorry if i missed any:

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