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verofleur · 3 months ago

Text

A Swan's Embrace

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pairing : five hargreeves x fem!reader

wc : 13.7k+

warnings : takes place a bit after season three (only mentioned like twice), mentions and descriptions of death / violence, uses of the term “yn”, and a few alterations to the original plot of the show

synopsis : they had lost each other once before, only to find themselves face to face again. perhaps it was fate’s way of giving them another chance to be together — or maybe just another form of torture. only time could tell.

a/n ⦂ the ending of this one made it worthy to finish writing. apologies for any mistakes ofc and the few alterations, though i hope you guys enjoy !! requests are still open btw + series coming soon, so pls look forward to that. tons of love — n <𝟹 ‎ ‎ ‎

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“I guess you're not that bad to have around..” he said, his eyes fixed straight ahead. She glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. His words were genuine.

Have you ever experienced that moment at the end of the day, when you lie in bed beneath a dark, unadorned ceiling? The silence becomes noticeable, pressing in from all sides, as your mind spins in a chaotic whirl of thoughts, lacking any clear direction.

Gradually, the weight of the facade you’ve so carefully constructed begins to lift. This facade was your armor, your second nature, designed to shield you from the world’s relentless demands and its indifferent inhabitants. Alone in the quiet, you let it all fall away, exposing the raw vulnerability beneath.

In that fragile stillness, a single question reverberates endlessly in your mind, like the persistent drip of a leaky faucet : How did it come to this?

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She knew precisely how she had ended up here. Slowly beginning to lose all hope of change and the ability to move forward as she once had. It was her choice to tread the path of denial rather than face the harsh truth head-on. Now, that decision tormented her with unyielding self-doubt, growing more insistent with every step she took down that road.

It was simple, really. Tragic, yet undeniably simple.

Amidst the haze of pain and the fortress of walls she had meticulously built, there was a time when Yn radiated genuine happiness. Her laughter was unrestrained, her smiles effortless, and she embraced each day with a heart wide open, finding beauty even in the most fleeting moments. That was before the weight of her choices began to press down on her, before denial became her refuge.

Recruited at just sixteen, Yn was thrust into the clandestine world of the Commission, an organization dedicated to safeguarding the Earth’s timeline. This recruitment was no ordinary decision; it carried a weight so profound that it would forever change the trajectory of her life.

Her role was that of a time correction assassin. As an agent of fate, she was charged with maintaining the delicate balance of history by removing those who threatened its continuity. It sounded insane when put into words, but she never dwelled on it, nor on the life that had soon slipped into a dim memory. The cases eventually consumed her, demanding she forsake her morals and take lives merely because their names appeared on a piece of paper or in a file.

Though the nature of her work was undeniably gruesome, those within the Commission who knew her well would offer remarkably consistent descriptions when asked about her character.

She was like a warm, sunny day after months of cold, freezing nights, effortlessly bringing smiles to those around her. Her positive spirit seemed like an eternal spring, her presence making others feel at ease. Her laughter was infectious, her comfort genuine, and her eyes sparkled with an innocent mischief, a curiosity about the world that remained untouched by the harsh realities she would later encounter.

Even as a child, she had a remarkable ability to find beauty in the mundane. While others were captivated by grand adventures and heroic tales, she delighted in the simplicity of a blooming flower or the rhythmic patter of rain against her window. This innate sense of wonder, though it set her apart, also made her endearing. Friends sought her out for comfort and advice, drawn to her sunnier, more hopeful perspective.

The Commission was the last place anyone would have expected her to end up, especially in the correction division. It wasn’t truly her choice; the job was thrust upon her. Yet, she accepted it with the same quiet grace that had once marked her approach to every simple joy.

Now in her early twenties, she had grown into her role with a remarkable blend of skill and subtlety, surpassing expectations without ever seeking recognition. Her approach was neither overzealous nor indifferent; she performed each task with great efficiency, provided support when needed, and stepped into leadership when called upon. She wouldn’t describe those decisions as mere obedience. She just had a keen sense of doing what felt morally right for her or those around her.

As good as she was, some would argue that one of her weaknesses lay in her tendency to let emotions guide her over logic.

A defining moment of this flaw surfaced during a mission, taking place around the 50s. Her target, despite their grave crimes, displayed a tender affection for a pet cat. The gentle care with which the target nurtured the animal sparked a deep hesitation within her. Faced with the incongruity of violence against such innocence, she found herself unable to reconcile the act of killing with the peaceful presence of the pet, leading her to falter.

That moment of internal conflict led her to establish a stringent personal rule: never to undertake missions involving pets. This rule became a steadfast principle, and fortunately, it remained intact.

Away from the demands of her official duties, she had a knack for building connections amidst the ever-shifting landscape of her workplace. Regardless of the constant influx of new faces and the roster's frequent changes, she managed to forge a tight-knit circle of colleagues. These were the individuals with whom she shared her breaks and quiet moments, creating a semblance of stability and camaraderie in an otherwise transient environment.

Among her closest allies was Dot, a crucial partner in their intricate web of operations. Dot's role was to track and identify threats that could disrupt the world's delicate balance. Their relationship went beyond mere professional interaction; it was a deep partnership built on mutual trust and understanding. Dot supplied Yn with essential intelligence and cutting-edge gadgets for her missions, but their connection was far more than just professional. They shared late-night conversations that explored the deeper meanings of their work, confided in each other amidst a world that demanded unwavering strength, and found solace in the occasional office gossip.

Even despite the demanding nature of her job, Yn was rarely alone. Her presence was a constant in the bustling corridors of the work place, whether she was engaged in solitary training, delving into cases, or simply enjoying a quiet meal while reading. She appeared content, immersed in her routines.

Or so she believed.

The term "once" now carries a heavy, poignant weight. What she had once cherished with all her heart had somehow transformed into a source of profound resentment, forever entwined with the reasons that led her to her fateful state.

“What’s this?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the cup of warm black coffee on his desk. His tone was calm, but his expression was all sharpness.

She glanced at him quickly, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Uh.. I noticed you were working late and skipped lunch. I thought you might need a little pick-me-up for the rest of the night ─ assuming you’re planning to stay longer, of course.” She offered him a small, hopeful smile to accompany her words.

It didn’t take long for Yn to catch wind of the news.

The air crackled with whispers ─ murmurs exchanged over lunch, fragments of conversation during idle moments, and the oddly gleeful chatter of the Handler, who brimmed with enthusiasm about a new recruit whose name she couldn’t quite recall. It all stirred the atmosphere within the place.

She wasn’t one to overlook the subtleties of office gossip. Gradually, she pieced together that the source of all this buzz was a newcomer. The people around her were not particularly skilled at keeping secrets; their careless murmurs and occasional slip-ups unveiled fragments of information about... him.

The rumors painted a captivating picture. He was said to be the sole survivor of a 2019 apocalypse, an event heralded as doomsday. Somehow, he had traveled forward in time, navigating a ravaged world alone for years. Whispers about a companion named Delores circulated, but these tales were quickly debunked ─ the man had arrived alone. Unfortunately, Yn had missed his arrival, having been on an extended mission at the time.

Upon her return, Dot could barely contain her excitement about the new recruit, who was already being hailed as a legend. The stories of his prowess were nothing short of remarkable, especially given his short time with the Commission. His skills had quickly surpassed those of several seasoned assassins, stirring both envy and admiration among his peers. Yn, however, found herself particularly captivated by his story, intrigued by the enigmatic figure who had endured so much.

The prospect of working alongside someone with such exceptional skills filled Yn with genuine excitement, a feeling that grew steadily when she learned that he had been assigned to her division.

On another late evening, Yn found herself enveloped in the soft glow of the office's dim light, listening intently to Dot’s animated recounting of the new recruit’s latest exploits. Dot’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she described the recruit’s recent mission, highlighting his exceptional ability to handle the demanding tasks set by the organization with remarkable skill and ease.

Yn’s thoughts wandered, picturing the trials he must have faced ─ bearing the solitary weight of being the last survivor and the immense strength needed to forge ahead alone. The notion of enduring such hardships, especially at a young age, evoked a profound sense of empathy within her.

But it wasn’t just his story that captivated her; it was the resilience woven into it.

She understood the relentless pressure of being thrust into a world that demanded more than one’s limits. Her own early days of recruitment had been fraught with the weight of preserving the timeline and the emotional toll of her work, as she struggled to adapt to a new reality. She could relate to his struggles, at least in part, and that kinship only deepened her small fascination.

"You don’t really mean that; you’re just stressed out," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly but remaining steady. "... I’ll give you some space for now. Just talk to me when you’re ready." As she walked toward the office door, her footsteps were almost hesitant.

"Yn, wait—" he began with a sigh, but his words were cut off as she gently closed the door behind her.

His name was Five, she discovered.

He was the same age as her, and yet despite working in the same expansive facility, she had not fully encountered him. He had been with the Commission for a month by now, but the large corridors and relentless demands of her duties had kept her from making more than fleeting glimpses of him. She’d seen his office and caught glimpses of him in passing, but her curiosity remained only partially satisfied.

Five. The name itself was enigmatic and intriguing. It seemed almost too simple for someone with a history as extraordinary as his. His reputation for exceptional combat skills, unparalleled intellect in solving cases, and the rare ability to time travel by himself unaided by the Commission only deepened her curiosity about him.

What was he like beyond the cold efficiency of his work? What was his true self like?

Yn knew he was special, gifted with extraordinary abilities ─ a truth she was familiar with. When she first joined the Commission, she had heard tales of children born under extraordinary circumstances, each endowed with powers that defied the ordinary. Back then, those stories felt like a myth. However, discovering that Five was one of these uniquely gifted individuals had rekindled her interest and dispelled her previous skepticism, transforming legend into a living reality.

Her curiosity was only piqued once more when she was summoned to the Handler’s office one evening. Dot, her voice filled with barely contained excitement, had informed Yn earlier in the day that her presence was required in the main office. Although Yn was uncertain about the reason for the summons, she couldn’t help but speculate that it might involve the mysterious, yet well-known Five.

The walk to the Handler’s office was brisk, punctuated by brief exchanges of pleasantries with her colleagues. Yn’s customary bright smile elicited warm responses as she passed by, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floors. Dot’s excitement was almost contagious, and Yn found herself feeling a twinge of anticipation as they approached the grand office.

Her relationship with the Handler was complex and multifaceted. Known for her favoritism toward select recruits, the Handler had a particular affinity for Yn. She often summoned her to the office for impromptu discussions, assigned her missions that seemed specially crafted for her skills, and frequently chose her for key roles within the division. Their relationship was characterized by a blend of mentorship and preferential treatment, creating a dynamic that was both supportive and marked by a distinct favoritism.

While they got along well enough, Yn couldn’t help but sense an undercurrent of unease beneath the Handler’s polished exterior. In spite of the pivotal role she played within the organization, she felt a persistent unease about the Handler’s motivations. And although her leadership was undeniably effective, contributing to the division’s smooth operation, Yn harbored suspicions that her decisions were often driven by self-serving motives rather than purely strategic or organizational interests.

Though, she refrained from voicing her concerns, well aware of the severe consequences faced by those who questioned the Handler. The atmosphere surrounding her office seemed to always be thick with an unspoken tension, leaving Yn with an internal shiver whenever she thought too deeply about it.

Arriving at the grand, imposing door of the Handler’s office, Dot knocked three times with practiced precision. Yn straightened her posture, drawing in a steadying breath to calm her nerves.

“Come in,” the Handler’s voice resonated from within, smooth and authoritative.

Yn pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the richly adorned office. Antique furniture and curious artifacts lined the room, each piece meticulously arranged. Behind a large mahogany desk sat the older woman, her sharp eyes gleaming as she regarded the two recruits. A delicate cup of tea rested in her right hand, steam curling up in soft tendrils.

“Yn, Dot..” she greeted, her voice carrying a subtle note of welcome as she set down the porcelain cup. “Please, have a seat.”

Yn and Dot settled into the plush chairs facing the desk. The Handler’s gaze lingered on Yn, a glimmer of something unspoken in her eyes. “Yn,” she began, her tone carrying a subtle hint of eccentricity. “I’ve summoned you here for a special small assignment, one that’s uniquely suited to your skills.”

“As you may have heard...” the Handler began, her tone carrying a hint of intrigue, “we have a new recruit ─ Five Hargreeves. He’s been making quite an impression, and I believe he would benefit from working closely with someone of your… experience. I need you to keep a close eye on him.” Her words were wrapped in an enigmatic quality, her gaze locked intently on Yn.

Yn's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Oh.. well, then I'd be glad to assist," she replied, a small smile spreading across her face. Her assumption had been correct, though the task of 'keeping an eye on him' did feel somewhat peculiar.

The Handler’s expression softened into a rare smile, and she let out a soft chuckle. “I knew I could count on you. He shall join you on your next mission, which is only a few days away. You’ll receive the details in due time. Consider it an.. opportunity to assess his skills and see how well he integrates into our operations.” She raised her cup to her lips, taking a deliberate sip, her eyes never leaving the young woman infront of her.

Yn nodded, a flicker of excitement in her eyes that she quickly masked with composure. Her hands rested neatly in her lap. “Understood. I’ll ensure a thorough evaluation and report once we return.”

“Good,” the Handler said, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. “That will be all for now. You both may go.” She made a dismissive gesture with a slight flick of her wrist, her gaze drifting toward one of the grand windows that framed her office. “And Dot, don’t forget that report I asked for… two weeks ago,” she added, a small glimmer of annoyance in her voice.

“Y-Yes, ma’am! I’ll make sure to deliver it tomorrow morning,” Dot said, rising abruptly from the lounge chair, a smile spreading across her face.

With a small, anticipatory smile, Yn and Dot exited the office. As they walked back through the corridors, Dot’s enthusiasm bubbled over. “Looks like you’ll finally get to meet him, bestie! I’m thrilled for you,” she said, her excitement evident as she adjusted her glasses.

Yn chuckled, her mind buzzing with possibilities. Despite her own swirling thoughts, Dot’s excitement was a welcome comfort. “I guess so, Dot,” she replied, sharing in her friend’s infectious energy.

The next few days were a whirlwind of preparation. Yn immersed herself in the mission details, meticulously reviewing every aspect to ensure nothing was overlooked. A blend of anticipation and anxiety simmered within her. This mission was pivotal not just for its success but also for gaining insight into Five, whom she had yet to fully understand.

Finally, when the day had arrived, she found herself back in the Handler’s office, this time with Five beside her. He wore the standard Commission uniform with an effortless grace. His calm demeanor and composed expression were a striking contrast to her own slightly fluttering nerves. He exuded sophistication, his presence a blend of confidence that was both intimidating and captivating.

“Five,” the Handler began, her voice smooth and authoritative, “meet Yn. The woman I mentioned before. She will be your partner for this mission ─ and potentially beyond.” As she spoke, she continued to shuffle through papers on her desk with practiced efficiency.

Five turned to the Handler, his expression a mixture of surprise and resolve. “I don’t need a partner—”

“Ah, well, that’s a shame, isn’t it?” The Handler cut him off with a dismissive wave of her hand, before fixing her gaze on both of them. “Yn, Five has demonstrated exceptional skills thus far. I expect you two to work together seamlessly, understand?”

Yn exchanged a glance with Five, her posture straightening as she offered a small, reassuring smile. “Of course. We’ll do our best.”

Five rolled his eyes discreetly, his annoyance barely concealed beneath a facade of composure. The Handler observed their interaction with a tight-lipped smile, her gaze unwavering.

“Good,” she said, her tone leaving no room for error. “Your target is a high-profile individual. Unfortunately, the last two recruits I sent were unsuccessful. Precision and coordination are paramount. You both are the best we have, and I expect nothing less than perfection.”

With a practiced motion, she stood, retrieving a briefcase from beside her desk. Her eyes briefly met theirs, a silent reminder of the gravity of their task.

“Do not disappoint me,” the Handler said with a stern finality, her expression hardening before she quickly replaced it with her usual preppy smile. She handed Five the briefcase with a practiced grace.

Yn nodded, her gaze shifting to Five. He appeared slightly tense, his expression a blend of irritation and resignation, but he offered a curt nod in response. The Handler’s words lingered in the air, a weight of expectation pressing down on them.

As they exited the Handler’s office and began walking down the corridor, Yn turned to Five with a bright, enthusiastic smile. “So, this is exciting, isn’t it? Our first mission together! I’ve heard quite a bit about you. I’m Yn, though I’m pretty sure she mentioned that already. Just wanted to make sure you knew...” she added softly, her smile warm and genuine.

Five responded with a small scoff and a slight shake of his head, his eyes scanning the hallway ahead. One hand rested in his pocket, while the other gripped the handle of the briefcase with a tightness that betrayed his irritation.

Unfazed, she pressed on with her attempt at conversation. “I’ve been with The Commission for a while now,” she began, her voice light and conversational. “It’s a bit crazy, isn’t it? All the time travel and missions. I find it intriguing… well, except for all the killing and such. But what can you do, right?” She chuckled softly, her hands clasped behind her back as they walked in step through the corridor.

Turning to him with a curious look, she asked, “So, how are you finding it here so far?”

Five’s gaze remained forward, his demeanor reflecting clear irritation. “…It’s fine,” he mumbled, his tone flat and almost monotone. This was the last thing he needed, he thought.

They soon arrived at the armory, where the clatter of weapons and the hum of machinery filled the air. Yn began selecting her gear, her fingers moving with practiced ease over various items. She glanced at Five, hoping to bridge the gap between them.

“I’ve heard you can time travel without the equipment,” she said, her tone warm with genuine curiosity. “That’s pretty amazing. If you don’t mind me asking, how does it work exactly?” She continued to scan the array of weapons, her eyes lingering on a sleek butterfly knife and a sturdy pistol.

Five’s gaze shifted to her, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It’s complicated,” he replied curtly, a hint of defensiveness in his tone.

She chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sure it is. But I’d love to hear more about it sometime. Maybe we can chat after the mis—” She began, picking up her chosen weapons and absently flicking the knife open and closed.

“Can we just focus on the mission?” Five cut in, his voice edged with impatience. He turned to her, a small frown creasing his brow as he met her gaze.

Yn stopped twirling the knife, her smile fading as she shifted her focus. “Right, sorry,” she said softly, her tone apologetic. She carefully stowed the knife and pistol in their respective places on her waistband.

Five shook his head with a dismissive sigh, his attention now fully absorbed in the assortment of weapons and gadgets before them. Yn sighed inwardly but kept her expression upbeat. Determined to break through his stoic exterior, she resolved to be patient and persistent, even if it took time.

“I’d be more than glad to help,” she said, her posture straight and her tone resolute as she made her offer. The conviction in her voice took him by surprise, though he quickly masked his astonishment. “But why?” he asked, his voice tinged with hesitation and doubt. They weren’t even entirely close, and this gesture seemed unexpected.

“It’s what you want, isn’t it? To save your family... leave this place behind,” she replied, her gaze steady and understanding. “If that’s your end goal, then I’d rather support you than stand in your way. I can see how much it means to you... even if you don't wanna admit it.” She concluded with a small, knowing smile, her eyes reflecting genuine empathy as she observed him.

The mission unfolded smoothly, a testament to the skill of its participants. Five outlined the plan with precise clarity, and Yn listened attentively, recognizing the thoughtfulness behind his strategy. She trusted his judgment implicitly, and it was clear she was right to do so.

Their operation proceeded as planned until an unexpected ambush forced them into combat. Yn typically dreaded these moments, but with Five’s expertise, the violence was manageable. The scene, grim and chaotic ─ blood spilled, the harsh clatter of her butterfly knife against flesh, Five’s grunts of exertion ─ was grim by any standard, but they remained focused, undisturbed by the carnage around them.

Even though their interactions were limited, Yn observed him closely. Amid the chaos, she noticed his fighting style ─ a unique rhythm, almost elegant in its precision. Despite the violence, Five fought with a fluid grace, seemingly detached from the brutality. He used his powers sparingly, only twice to bridge gaps between enemies, but his movements were so adept, he hardly appeared to struggle.

For anyone else, his detached demeanor might be unsettling. But for Yn, it sparked a flicker of admiration. His calm mastery, his ability to make violence seem almost like an art form. It seemed almost captivating.

As the last adversary had fallen and the tension began to ebb, she let out a deep breath, her face streaked with a few smudges of blood. She glanced at Five, her voice gentle yet laced with a note of relief. “Well, that went well, didn’t it?” she said softly, hoping for some acknowledgment.

Five, however, remained absorbed in his task, grunting softly as he wrested the briefcase from one of the unconscious assailants. The briefcase’s presence was a slight puzzle to Yn ─ she had no idea how it had ended up in the hands of their opponents, but Five's careful handling suggested he intended to be more vigilant with it in the future.

With a look of expectation, he turned his gaze toward the woman as he prepared the case for their return. Recognizing his unspoken cue, she straightened her disheveled appearance, her smile unwavering despite the blood staining her face. She walked over to him, maintaining her composure.

Five observed her quietly, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he shook his head slightly, almost imperceptibly. Both of them placed their hands on the briefcase, and with a synchronized effort, they were transported back to the Commission, leaving the battlefield behind.

They reappeared outside the briefcase room, the familiar yet unsettling sensation of the time jump still lingering in Yn's body. She took a few deep breaths, steadying herself. Though she had grown accustomed to these jumps, they still left her feeling disoriented sometimes. Beside her, Five exhaled quietly, seemingly unfazed, as he walked into the briefcase room to return the case. He discreetly glanced around at the other cases, taking note of their placements, before stepping back outside after a minute.

He paused briefly, surprised to see Yn still there, patiently waiting. She was wiping a few bloodstains from her clothes, humming softly to herself with a small, almost contented smile on her face.

Five let out a faint, quiet scoff, masking his curiosity with indifference. Without another word, he turned on his heel, heading toward the Handler's office. "Let's go," he ordered, his tone quiet but firm.

She snapped out of her thoughts, straightening her posture in surprise. She quickly fell into step beside him, her pace matching his as they made their way down the corridor.

The debriefing went swiftly. Both Yn and Five delivered their reports with precision, detailing the mission’s success. The Handler listened intently, her face lighting up with satisfaction at their feedback and accomplishments. She complimented them, her eyes glinting with a curious, almost predatory interest as she observed the two assassins.

When they were finally dismissed for the night, the Handler reminded Yn to submit her evaluation of Five the next morning. His face tightened into a faint scowl at the mention of the report, but he said nothing.

As the office doors closed behind them, the quiet hallway enveloped them, punctuated only by the faint hum of late-night activity within the building.

With a composed demeanor and a gentle smile, Yn turned to him. “At least that smoothly. I think we made a pretty good team." She paused for a moment, her gaze steady and sincere. “By the way, if you ever wanna talk or need anything, just know I’m here. I know adjusting can be tough—”

Without a word, Five continued walking, his back to her, making no move to acknowledge her offer. Her smile slighly faltered as she watched him retreat down the corridor. A sigh escaped her lips, her breath mingling with the cool air of the empty hallway.

“Well, goodnight then!” she called softly, her voice carrying a hint of disappointment. Despite her efforts to bridge the gap between them, it seemed Five preferred to remain distant. Yn stood alone for a moment longer, her eyes fixed on the shadowy figure of Five as he disappeared into the darkness, the corridor growing a bit colder in his absence. Maybe next time, she thought, holding on to a small glimmer of hope.

“I wonder what it’d be like to have your powers,” she mused with a chuckle, putting away a few files on her desk as she prepared to clock out for the night. The soft glow of the desk lamp cast gentle shadows around the room.

Five, leaning against a nearby wall with his hands in his pockets, stared at the ceiling. “They’re not that special,” he mumbled with a scoff.

She finished tidying her desk, casting a small, warm smile in his direction. “Well, I think they’re pretty cool, no matter what you say,” she said softly, her tone genuine.

His gaze shifted briefly toward her, his expression betraying a flicker of curiosity.

True to her word, the Handler had seen to it that, only two weeks after their initial mission, Yn and Five were officially assigned as partners. While they still occasionally undertook solo missions, more often than not, they found themselves side by side. Yn greeted the news with enthusiasm, though she couldn’t say the same for Five.

Life at the Commission soon settled into a monotonous rhythm for both Yn and Five, marked by a relentless cycle of missions and the increasingly predictable pattern of Yn’s attempts to break through Five’s stony exterior. She couldn’t fathom how a partnership could function without some semblance of camaraderie, so she took it upon herself to bridge that gap. Despite her persistent efforts, however, Five remained distant, his silence almost a rebuke to her cheerful attempts at friendship.

Some of her colleagues had cautioned her that trying to befriend him was a futile endeavor, pointing to his unyielding indifference toward her gestures of kindness.

But she dismissed their warnings with a quiet resolve, refusing to let their doubts seep into her spirit. Dot, ever supportive, continued to bolster her efforts, offering words of encouragement whenever uncertainty threatened to take root. Yn told herself that if Five truly wished for her to stop, he would voice it plainly. Yet, his responses ─ or the conspicuous absence of them ─ were limited to walking away or retreating into silence. To her, this was far from a defeat; in fact, she secretly considered his lack of outright rejection as a small, unspoken triumph.

And so it remained that way ─ until, inevitably, it didn’t.

The date marked nearly three months since Yn and Five had been paired as partners, a time filled with missions and tension. They had just returned from what could only be described as a near-disastrous mission. It had all been going smoothly until they separated to fulfill their respective roles. Yn's task was straightforward yet fraught with risk ─ she was to assassinate the final target. Five, on the other hand, was assigned to infiltrate the estate, gathering critical intel that would ensure the mission’s success.

As Yn prepared for the shot, a rare sense of anxiety settled over her. Despite her experience, this mission carried an unusual weight. One shot was all it would take, and failure was not an option. But as the moment of action approached, she faltered.

The target’s wife entered the scene, and through the scope, Yn saw something that gave her pause ─ the woman’s smile as she greeted her husband, the way they embraced, the contented sigh she let out. It was a simple, human moment, but it hit Yn like a punch to the gut.

Her hands trembled as she aimed the gun, her resolve crumbling. She couldn’t do it. Her body, usually so attuned to the demands of her job, refused to cooperate. The hesitation was costly. Security forces within the estate spotted her, forcing her to engage in a violent struggle that quickly drew the attention of her intended target. He barely made it out of the grand house before a bullet found him. His body crumpled to the ground, and as it did, Yn saw Five standing there, a small frown of anger creasing his face.

Without a word, Five appeared at her side, seamlessly joining the fray to eliminate the remaining security personnel with her. His movements were efficient, precise, a stark contrast to her earlier faltering. And as soon as the last threat was neutralized, Five grabbed her arm and, without a moment’s hesitation, used the case to return them to the Commission. The mission had been salvaged, but the tension between them hung in the air, heavy and unspoken.

That night had sparked an argument between them, though in hindsight, it was more a clash of frayed nerves than true animosity. The day had burdened them both with relentless stress, and the looming threat of failure had mingled with an unspoken fear of potentially losing each other… as partners of course. It was a volatile blend that inevitably boiled over.

Yet, as she reflected now, it was clear that without that night’s tension, the subtle shifts that followed might never have occurred. It was as if that moment of friction had unlocked something in their bond, something that would gradually reshape their future.

And it did. After that day, Yn had began to distance herself from Five, pulling back from her usual attempts to engage him following the words they had exchanged.

At first, he welcomed the newfound quiet, relishing the space she had granted him. But as the days turned into weeks, the hints of emptiness began to settle in ─ his routines, once merely solitary, now felt hollow in the absence of her persistent presence. It frustrated him that it had taken nearly half a year since his arrival to realize that, all along, she had been nothing but kind to him, even bringing him coffee out of simple, unreciprocated kindness.

Eventually, he couldn’t ignore the small void she had unintentionally left behind. So, he began to yield ─ little by little, he started responding more to her words, offering brief answers to a few of her questions. Though he tried to mask his intentions, to pretend that nothing had changed, Yn was perceptive. She noticed the subtle shift, and it warmed her heart to see him make the effort. Maybe, she thought, her persistence had finally paid off after all.

Five turned to look at her, a small, closed smile appearing on his face. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

Yn returned his smile with a warm one of her own. “If it means I get to see that smile of yours more often, then yeah, I’m not giving up.”

What began as a newly formed partnership and budding friendship gradually deepened into something far more profound ─ a bond marked by affection and love.

Nearly four years had passed since Five's arrival, with both now in their late twenties. How their relationship evolved to this point was almost a mystery, so natural and unexpected it was. There was no rushing, no planning of special days; everything unfolded organically, without them even realizing it until confessions were made during late-night talks in their offices ─ a ritual that had become part of their routine.

The Commission soon picked up on the shift. They noticed Yn’s brighter smile and Five’s subtle change in demeanor around her friends and colleagues. What caught their attention most was the increasing number of times they were seen together outside of work. The news only spread when Dot, eager to share the update about her best friend’s new relationship with the elusive assassin, let slip to some of her acquaintances. As the story circulated, more and more people became aware of their union.

It took considerable effort from Yn and a touch of intimidation from Five to stem the tide of gossip. They had to persuade their colleagues firmly and, in Five’s case, unwillingly make a few veiled threats to ensure that the news didn’t reach the Handler or become a matter of office chatter.

Those three famous words replayed in Yn’s mind often after they had been spoken. Five had been the one to say them first, catching her completely off guard.

She had been in the middle of a rant, her words tumbling out carelessly, when he suddenly interrupted her with that simple, yet earth-shattering declaration. She’d frozen up, stunned into silence, as she watched the panic flicker in his eyes, his awkward attempt to move on from the moment. But before either of them could overthink it, they shared a kiss ─ a kiss more meaningful than any other. She always reminisced about that day.

Being with him had brought her true happiness, but what she treasured most was the chance to truly understand him. To be one of the rare few who were close to the legendary Five Hargreeves.

It wasn’t the title that made her happy of course, but what it represented ─ his trust in her.

Five had eventually opened up to Yn about his past: the life he led before the apocalypse, the siblings he once fought beside, and the grueling years spent at the academy under the iron fist of his oppressive father. He shared the grim details of the apocalypse, the years he had endured in a world that was crumbling around him.

She even learned about his companion, Delores, who, to her surprise, truly existed ─ though not in the way she had once imagined.

Every revelation had brought them closer, slowly peeling back layers of Five’s stoic exterior. She listened as he recounted the challenges of growing up under such intense pressure, how the academy had shaped him, and how the isolation during the apocalypse had nearly driven him mad. Delores, a mannequin he had once loved, became a symbol of his desperate attempt to hold onto some semblance of normalcy in a desolate world.

Her heart ached for him as she realized just how much he had been through. She admired his resilience but also recognized the deep scars that his experiences had left behind. Despite all of it, she was still there, offering him the understanding and support he had long been deprived of.

One confession of hers always lingered in Five’s mind ─ the time she had offered to help him save his family, even before they had become a couple. It filled him with a sense of worth beyond his powers, knowing that someone as kind and admirable as Yn was by his side. Her willingness to stand by him, even when the odds seemed impossible, meant more to him than she could ever know.

In time, he shared his plan with her, every detail laid bare. And without a moment’s hesitation, she joined him, willing to leave the Commission behind and start a new life together. Though she seldom spoke of her life before the Commission, she knew that leaving it with him would be worth it ─ a step toward a new beginning.

All of it ultimately had led Yn toward her cherished goal of becoming a mother one day, to start a family with the man she knew she loved with all her heart. Little did she know how close this dream was to becoming reality, and the price she would have to pay for it.

She stared at the test in her shaky hands, her breath catching in her throat as the result slowly registered in her mind. It was positive.

The tiny plus sign on the strip seemed to burn into her vision, making her head spin. She had imagined this moment a few times before, but now that it was real, a wave of overwhelming emotions washed over her ─ shock, fear, and a flicker of something else she couldn’t quite place.

What would Five say? Would he be happy? Or would this news only add to the stress that already weighed heavily on him, especially with the endless equations he wrestled with, trying to find a way back home? Her thoughts had swirled in a chaotic spiral as she considered her options, eventually deciding on waiting it out. She’d tell him when the time was right ─ when he was a bit more at ease.

Two weeks had passed since that moment. Now, a few weeks into her first trimester, she still hadn’t told anyone, not even Dot. The secret weighed on her, but she carried it alone, choosing her words and actions carefully. She noticed that Five had started to pick up on her moments of distraction during their work, his concerned glances lingering on her as she zoned out during meetings or while analyzing cases.

It worried him, but he chalked it up to stress, something he was all too familiar with. As much as he tried to focus on the tasks at hand, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with Yn. Yet, he held back from asking, not wanting to add to whatever burden she was carrying.

Yn, on the other hand, had still found herself caught between wanting to share her news with Five and the fear of how it might affect him. The thought of their future together brought both joy and anxiety, and she knew that the conversation would change everything. But until she felt the time was right, she kept her secret close, hoping for the right moment to finally reveal the truth.

That fateful evening, a mission had been thrust upon them both, one that stood out as particularly treacherous. Their target: a high-ranking official in 1930s London. The mission, fraught with peril and intricacy, was conveyed to them by the Handler with an urgency that unsettled Yn. The usual meticulous preparation was replaced with a frantic rush, additional colleagues and assassins hastily brought in to assist. The pressure of it all weighed heavily on her, nearly suffocating in its intensity.

But in the midst of the chaos, Five stood by her side, his presence a steady anchor in the storm. The warmth of his hand as it grasped hers provided a fleeting sense of comfort, a reassurance that steadied her frayed nerves. Their eyes met as they were handed the briefcase, the unspoken understanding between them clear.

“See you on the other side, love,” he whispered softly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

A smile touched her lips, a brief moment of solace amidst the turmoil. She gently brushed a stray lock of hair from his face, her fingers lingering as she cupped his cheek. “As always, amor,” she murmured, her voice filled with a quiet resolve.

He returned her smile, a small, closed expression that conveyed more than words ever could. And then, with a final kiss, they vanished into the unknown, the briefcase unlocking their passage into the heart of the mission.

They lay on the rooftop, the world below a distant hum as they rested after another mission. The night sky above them was a canvas of stars, more vivid and clear than ever.

Her eyes traced the constellations, her voice carrying a note of hope. “Do you think it’ll work? Us leaving this place for good?” she asked softly.

Five turned his head to look at her, taking in the sight of her bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. For a moment, he found her breathtaking. “I’m not sure yet,” he admitted, his voice thoughtful. “I still need time to figure it out. But we will… as long as you stick with me and I do the same...”

She lost him that night.

The mission, designed with precision, had unravelled into a grim spectacle of chaos and tragedy. They had been separated away from the others, and the ambush that followed was relentless. As Yn fought her way through the fray, she felt the crushing weight of each strike and the ever-increasing number of enemies. The alleyway, dimly lit and narrow, became a crucible of their suffering.

Amidst the cacophony of gunfire and rain, Five was shot while shielding her from harm. The bullet’s impact seemed to shatter the fragile barrier between life and death. Yn’s mind was a maelstrom of fear and helplessness as she saw him stagger, blood staining his hands, his face etched with a painful resolve. His final moments were spent reassuring her with a promise to reunite, a promise that would never be fulfilled.

The rain continued to fall, indifferent to their plight, as she clutched him in her arms, her cries piercing the night. The agony of his loss was magnified by the brutality of her actions. Consumed by a blind rage, she had unleashed a vengeful fury upon the assailants who had stirred from unconsciousness. Her anger morphed her into a merciless avenger, the scene growing increasingly gruesome with each act of retribution.

The sight of a wedding ring on one of her fallen foes only fueled her anger, intensifying her wrath against a world that had stolen her love away from her.

The blood that soaked her clothes and hands served as a haunting reminder of the night’s horrors. When Dot and the other recruits had finally arrived, alerted by the delay of the two assassins, they found Yn amidst the aftermath, a lone figure in a sea of carnage. The scene was eerily quiet, save for the sound of rain pattering against the cobblestones, mingling with the crimson stains that painted the ground. Dot could only do nothing but cradle her shattered friend, her own heart breaking as Yn wept for her fallen partner.

“H-He's gone. He's really gone, Dot,” Yn had whispered, her voice barely audible through her sobs as she wept in her friend’s arms. The embrace, warm and familiar, somehow failed to bring the comfort she so desperately yearned for. His comfort.

Dot’s heart shattered at her friend’s words, a deep ache spreading through her chest. “I-I know. I know, love. I'm so sorry,” she whispered back, her voice trembling as she fought to keep herself composed.

“I never even told h-him…” Yn’s voice broke, the weight of her unspoken truth adding to her sorrow.

Dot’s confusion at the statement was fleeting, replaced by an overwhelming wave of empathy. She looked up at the others, tears forming in her own eyes as she held Yn closer. Herb and the rest of the team could only watch the scene with heavy hearts, their own grief mingling with sympathy.

They had lost one of their own that night, and the weight of that loss hung heavily in the air.

Have you ever heard the tale of two swans? One was as bright as freshly fallen snow, while the other was as dark as a moonless night. They lived on a tranquil lake, where the sun’s light danced across the water’s surface. The white swan was a beacon of sunlight, her graceful movements infusing life and light into the world around her. In contrast, the black swan bore the weight of shadows, his eyes mirroring the deep, somber sorrow of twilight, as if carrying the burdens of a cold and indifferent world.

Swans, it is said, find their mates for life. And though these two were as different as day and night, they were drawn together by a force that neither could resist. The white swan’s brightness softened the black swan’s gloom, while his depth gave her a new understanding of the world. They became the perfect counterpart to one another, a delicate balance of light and dark.

But as with all tales of love and loss, their time together was fleeting. The black swan, burdened by his own melancholy, grew weaker and eventually slipped into the stillness of death, leaving the white swan to mourn alone. There is a saying that swans give up when they lose their mate, but the white swan refused to surrender to despair. In her dreams, she saw him waiting on the edge of the lake, a shadow calling her back.

And so, she swam on, believing that their love was not bound by the limits of this world, but destined to reunite by fate, no matter how long it took.

The weeks following that night felt irrevocably altered, as though something fundamental had been lost. While only her closest friends sensed the void, it was undeniable: Yn had lost more than just a partner. She had lost a part of herself. Her light, her guiding moon. Everything that had once illuminated her world ─ was gone.

Discussions of Five’s passing were always weighed down with solemnity, spoken in hushed tones and soft whispers to avoid further distressing the grief-stricken Yn. The Handler had refrained from calling her in, adding to the sense of quiet that enveloped her. During this period, she had withdrawn from missions, spending her days confined to her quarters, while Dot provided steadfast support, her daily check-ins offering a small measure of comfort amid Yn’s profound sorrow. She resolved to properly express her gratitude to Dot someday.

As more weeks of solitude had passed, Yn’s growing stomach became increasingly noticeable, making it clear that she could no longer keep her condition a secret. Not that she had ever really planned to.

Surprisingly yet, she began to ease back into work, solving only a few cases here and there. Yet, the thought of returning to full-scale missions had seemed distant and unattainable. She couldn’t envision herself diving back into that world anytime soon.

When she officially had returned, her colleagues quickly noticed the changes in her. She was quieter, more reserved, and the brightness that once lit up her smile had dimmed. Her eyes, once filled with a lively spark, now held a subdued melancholy. Though her caring nature remained intact, it was tinged with a softness that hadn’t been there in a while.

The news of her pregnancy, discreetly shared by Dot with Yn’s permission, only deepened their understanding of her transformation. They often saw her gently cradling her growing stomach as she spoke with others, a tender gesture that contrasted with the weight of her loss. Despite everything, Yn still had extended a helping hand whenever her colleagues needed support, her compassion unwavering, though now shaded with the quiet strength of someone who had endured profound sorrow.

They had arranged a small welcome-back week for Yn, nothing extravagant, just a gesture to show their support and care. Dot and Herb had spearheaded the idea, wanting to comfort her during this difficult time. Though Dot nervously denied any relationship with Herb, Yn wasn’t fooled. She saw the affection in their interactions, recognizing the love between them, even if they hadn’t realized it yet. It was reminiscent of how she and Five had been before they got together. A part of her envied them, but she chose not to dwell on it, unwilling to descend into that sorrowful comparison.

That week passed quickly, but the one that followed brought an unwelcome tension. With Five gone, it was inevitable that someone would try to take his place as the best in their division. Unfortunately, it had to be a guy whose name Yn barely bothered to remember. She recognized him, though ─ the one who always glared at Five during meetings, muttering under his breath and plotting to outshine him. His envy had been palpable, and now, with Five gone, he seemed almost gleeful.

She was on her way to Dot's office when their paths crossed. He spotted her first, his smirk widening as he stopped, blocking her way. “Well, if it isn't Mrs. Sunshine herself. Oh wait, you're not a Mrs anymore, huh?” His voice dripped with mockery, each word carefully chosen to sting.

Yn paused, her gaze narrowing as she turned to face him fully. “What did you say?” Her voice was low, a warning.

“You heard me,” he sneered, taking a step closer, his voice dripping with malice. “What? What's with the glare? Your man isn’t here to cuddle you when you’re sad anymore? Aw, how tragic.” His tone was sharp, mocking. As his words hung in the air, a small crowd began to form at a respectful distance, sensing the tension.

Yn’s heart pounded in her chest, her grief and anger simmering just beneath the surface. He wasn’t done yet, though. His eyes flicked down to her growing stomach, and the smirk on his face turned vicious. “I'm sure it'll be sad for that child of yours too, no? Having to grow up fatherless—”

He didn’t get to finish. The sound of her fist connecting with his jaw echoed through the hall, followed by a sharp intake of breath from the onlookers. He staggered back, clutching his face, shock and pain flickering in his eyes as blood began to trickle from his nose. The once-smug expression was replaced with disbelief as he struggled to regain his footing, staring at Yn in stunned silence.

She stepped forward, her voice cold and unwavering. “You don't get to speak about him or our child. Ever.” She glanced down at him, now slumped against the wall, her eyes narrowing slightly before she straightened her posture, smoothing her jacket's sleeves with a practiced grace. A small, almost satisfied smile curved her lips. “I'm sure our boss can deal with you from here.”

Without another word, Yn turned and walked away, leaving him and the stunned crowd in her wake. She didn’t look back, her steps confident and unhurried as she continued toward Dot's office, her mind already moving beyond the encounter, focusing instead on what truly mattered. Though, a closed smile appeared on her face. How cool was that, she thought.

The months that followed passed in a blur, filled with their own set of challenges and small joys. Yn navigated the pain of her growing baby, the sharp, unexpected kicks a constant reminder of the new life within her. Sleepless nights often plagued her, her dreams haunted by memories and nightmares of Five. Yet through it all, he remained ever-present in her thoughts, a constant companion in her heart.

The day she gave birth was a mixture of profound pain and overwhelming joy. With Dot by her side, offering support and comfort, Yn held her baby girl for the first time. The sight of the tiny, delicate face with her father's eyes brought tears to her eyes. Cradling her daughter in her arms, she was flooded with a wave of emotion that made the pain of childbirth fade into the background. The spark that had seemed lost during those dark months flickered back to life.

And that spark only grew stronger as the years passed. It now marked four years since the birth of her daughter and nearly five since Yn had lost her beloved counterpart. She had named her daughter Odette, inspired by her favorite tale of the two swans ─ a story she felt a profound connection to. Odette, in turn, grew to love the tale as well, often requesting her mother to read it to her.

She carried her father's last name, a small but significant gesture by Yn to keep his presence alive. She was more than just a reminder of Five; she was a living embodiment of him. From her eyes to her smile, she mirrored him unmistakably.

Yet her spirited defiance and curiosity, traits so vividly reminiscent of Yn herself, shaped her unique character. Together, these traits made Odette a perfect blend of both her parents. A tangible piece of Five that would always remain with them.

Odette breathed new life into Yn, rekindling the smile and joy she had lost. As her daughter grew older, she proudly introduced her to some of her colleagues. The young girl quickly took a special liking to Dot, who she affectionately regarded as an aunt.

Those around her couldn’t help but notice the remarkable transformation that occurred whenever she brought her daughter along. The once-muted spark in her eyes seemed to reignite, and the spirit and vitality that had once defined her returned in full force. With Odette by her side, Yn radiated a renewed energy, a testament to the profound impact her daughter had on her life.

Her friends and colleagues took pride in this progress, none more so than Dot and her newly announced husband, Herb. Yn had always suspected that Dot and Herb were destined for each other, and seeing their happiness only served to amplify her own.

Dot, however, knew her friend too well to be fooled by her composed exterior. She noticed the subtle longing in Yn’s eyes whenever she watched couples around them ─ a silent yearning that spoke volumes. Deeply worried for her friend, Dot resolved to address this unspoken sadness. So, determined to uplift Yn’s spirits, Dot had been collaborating with Herb on a plan for the inevitable. Their efforts were driven by the desire to bring a bit of joy and warmth back into Yn’s life, a gesture to remind her of the happiness she permanently deserved.

Now, as Dot stood at Yn’s door with a briefcase in hand and a hopeful smile on her face, the moment had finally arrived to put their plan into action.

Yn was jolted from her somber reverie by a knock that drew her from the depths of her reflections. Her mind, having been absorbed in vivid, melancholic recollections of the past few years, was momentarily disrupted by the unexpected sound.

Her habit of deep contemplation, honed through years of grappling with grief, had become a regular occurrence during her solitary moments. This subtle undercurrent of sorrow still lingered beneath the facade she maintained around others, save for her daughter, who was spending the day with Dot. The break was meant to be a well-deserved respite, a chance for Yn to step away from her responsibilities and unwind. Yet, as she lay alone in her loft, the quiet was filled with a flood of memories rather than peace.

With a weary sigh, Yn rose from her bed and switched on the lamp beside her. The soft glow dispelled the encroaching darkness, casting a gentle light across the room. As she moved toward the door of her small loft, her footsteps echoed softly in the quiet.

When she opened the door, she was greeted by Dot, whose face was brightened by a warm and inviting smile. Dot held a briefcase in her hands, the enigmatic glint in her eyes hinting at a purpose behind her visit that went beyond a mere social call.

“Hi, bestie!” Dot exclaimed with infectious enthusiasm, her smile beaming brightly. She seemed on the verge of bouncing with excitement.

Yn looked at her with a hint of confusion. “Hi, Dot. Where’s my daughter?” she asked, half expecting to see Odette right behind her friend.

“Oh, don’t worry about her,” Dot reassured her with a gentle smile. “She’s fast asleep. I made sure Herb checked in on her, so you don’t have to worry.” She then adjusted her grip on the briefcase, holding it with both hands as if presenting a treasured gift. Her eyes sparkled with a blend of excitement and urgency. “I need your help with something,” she said, her voice carrying a note of earnest appeal.

Yn’s gaze fell on the briefcase, and she let out a long, weary sigh. “Dot, you know I don’t take on missions anymore.”

Dot quickly interjected, her tone insistent. “I promise, this isn’t a mission. I just need your help with talking to someone for a report. I know I could have asked anyone else, but—”

Yn cut in, her patience wearing thin. “Dot, you don’t need to—”

Dot pressed on, her voice carrying a blend of determination and sincerity. “You’re the only one I truly trust with this. Wanda’s off on her honeymoon, and that leaves Harold, who.. let’s be honest, has a knack for forgetting things. And as much as I value his help, between us, he’s not the best at keeping details straight. Plus, this report would really benefit from your insight—”

“Fine!” Yn interrupted Dot’s rambling, her resolve finally breaking. “I’ll do it, okay? Would that make you happy?” A hint of a smile appeared on her face, softening her expression.

Dot’s face lit up with genuine delight at Yn’s response. “Trust me, this makes me very happy.” Her gaze fell on Yn’s casual appearance. “But before you head out, go grab a jacket. It might be chilly where we’re going.”

Y/N sighed, a small, resigned smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She turned away, heading to her closet to retrieve her jacket, her movements deliberate as she mentally prepared herself for what lay ahead. When she returned to the front door, she grabbed the briefcase from her friend, her fingers brushing against a small note that had been tucked underneath.

“Almost forgot to mention!” Dot said with a quick, bright smile, “It’d be better off if you went by yourself. I promise to take care of Odette while you’re away, okay? Oh, and apologies for any age regressions. It was the only way, I swear!” Dot’s words tumbled out in a rush, her playful wink adding a touch of lightheartedness to the situation.

Before Yn could respond at what she just said, Dot opened the briefcase and backed away. A flash of light enveloped her, causing her to disappear in an instant, leaving Dot standing alone with a satisfied grin.

The landing wasn’t graceful by any means. It had been some time since she last felt the jarring impact of a jump. The cold, unyielding concrete greeted her back as she hit the ground, the briefcase skidding to a stop beside her.

A groan escaped her lips as she opened her eyes, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She was in a lonely alley way. It was night, the stars above twinkling in the crisp air. The chill in the air seeped through her clothes, though she was grateful she had brought her jacket ─ despite it feeling slightly looser now that she had a moment to think.

Dot’s last words suddenly echoed in her mind, prompting her to sit up and examine herself. She had indeed regressed physically. Judging by the familiar feel of her body, she estimated she was close to twenty again. How she knew this was unclear ─ the knowledge had simply surfaced in her mind, as if planted there. The realization drew a sigh of frustration from her.

“Great. Just what I needed,” she muttered under her breath, releasing another sigh as she pushed herself to her feet. She reached down, grabbing the briefcase and staring at the note that had been hidden beneath it. With a curious frown, she picked it up and unfolded it, immediately recognizing her friend’s familiar handwriting.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ It’ll be worth it !!!

That was all it said, a simple message alongside a smiley face, an address, and an apartment number. The brevity of it puzzled her, but she shrugged it off, assuming it was just her friend's way of offering some encouragement. Folding the note carefully, she tucked it away and began to make her way out of the alley. As she walked, a strange new feeling tugged at her heart, something she couldn’t quite put into words yet.

The walk to the apartment was short, the address conveniently close by. She found herself enjoying the quiet stroll, the crisp night air, and the glow of the city around her. The pretty lights of closed shops and streetlamps reflected off the puddles of water on the ground, remnants of an earlier rain. For once, her mind was still, her usual whirlwind of thoughts subdued as she soaked in the peaceful surroundings. And before she knew it, she was now standing in front of the door marked with the number from the note.

The place felt oddly familiar, almost as if she were experiencing deja vu, despite never having been there before. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and knocked gently ─ five small taps. It was a habit she’d picked up after meeting Five, a subtle, playful signal that it was her at the door.

She listened as the faint sound of footsteps approached, stopping just on the other side of the door, lingering as if the person hesitated. The pause made sense, though, the moment the door swung open.

And there he stood. Alive and breathing.

It took her several moments to even process what she was seeing. It didn’t feel real ─ it couldn’t be. She had been there in his final moments, holding him as the last breath left his body, his life slipping away in her arms. How could he possibly be standing here now? But there he was, unmistakably him, looking slightly younger than when they had first met.

His eyes, those familiar, piercing eyes she had longed for every day since his death, were now locked onto hers, brimming with a whirlwind of emotions ─ surprise, grief, shock. Seeing him again sent a jolt through her heart, unearthing a longing she had buried deep within herself.

This had to be a dream, she thought, a painfully vivid dream. There could be no other explanation. She was on the verge of convincing herself of this, of dismissing the surreal moment as nothing more than a cruel trick of her mind.

But then, just as her thoughts reached a fever pitch, everything came to a sudden, startling halt when he spoke.

“Yn?” His voice was a whisper, so soft it was almost lost in the space between them, yet it carried the weight of a thousand emotions. There was a tremor of hesitance, a desperate plea woven into the single word, as though he couldn’t bear for this moment to be anything but true.

He’d spoken her name like a lifeline. And that was all it took.

Have you ever watched a Studio Ghibli movie? The way characters embrace, with a weightless, almost ethereal quality, filled with a love so profound it borders on desperation ─ something so pure, so perfect, it feels almost unreal? That’s the only way she could describe what happened next.

Her hands, trembling uncontrollably, released the briefcase, letting it clatter to the floor as tears welled up in her eyes. In an instant, she was in his arms, launching herself at him with a gentle force that belied the intensity of her emotions.

The impact pushed him back, and he leaned against the couch for support, his arms instinctively wrapping around her. It wasn’t just a hug; it was an outpouring of everything they had both held back, a reunion that seemed impossible, now made real. In that moment, nothing else existed but the warmth of his embrace and the overwhelming relief of having him back.

It was like a forgotten melody, a touch so familiar yet distant that it brought tears to her eyes. She buried her face against him, her emotions overwhelming her after so many years of longing. It was as though time had folded in on itself, pulling her back to the moments they had shared ─ those quiet embraces when he would hold her close to soothe her fears, or when he sought solace in her arms, or the way they’d cling to each other before sleep claimed them.

Yet, even in this moment of overwhelming emotion, she sensed the subtle difference in his hold. As much as she wanted to believe that this was truly her Five, she knew it wasn’t.

She refused to deceive herself with comforting lies. But the sensation of his arms around her, the sight of him breathing once more, was enough to make her ignore that truth, if only for a moment. She felt his arms tighten around her, as though he, too, was desperate to hold onto this fleeting connection. And he was.

Unbeknowst to her, in this timeline, Five had lost her too, but the circumstances were even more devastating. They had been married in this world, their connection deepened by vows and shared dreams. But her death had been a cruel twist of fate, even more tragic because he hadn’t been there to save her. By the time he found her, the life they had built together was already shattered, the light in her eyes extinguished.

The pain of losing her, the one person who had made the chaos of his existence bearable, was a weight he couldn’t carry. The organization they had both served now felt like a prison, a constant reminder of the price he had paid. So he did the only thing he could ─ he walked away. Not just to escape the unbearable memories, but to honor the goal she had always believed in: saving his family, the one mission that had always mattered to him.

Her words, spoken with love and determination before that fateful night, became his lifeline. She had promised that they would see each other again, a promise that kept him going through the darkest of times. With that promise echoing in his mind, he returned to his timeline, a sixteen-year-old boy again, at least physically, carrying the scars of a life lived far too fast. He fought for his family, saving the world not once, but twice, driven by the hope that somehow, in some way, he would fulfill the vow they had made to each other.

Four years had passed since the harrowing events at Hotel Obsidian, when he’s been rid of his powers ─ a release that should have brought peace. Yet, a lingering emptiness remained, a deep ache in his soul that no achievement could ever truly fill.

And now, against all odds, here she was, cradled in his arms. She wasn’t exactly his girl, but she was unmistakably her in every way that mattered. It felt as though fate had woven its threads to bring them together for this fleeting, bittersweet reunion.

They both understood that this moment wasn’t meant to last, but for now, it was a precious gift. The chance to hold each other again was a final farewell, a way to honor the love that had once been the center of their worlds. They lingered in that embrace, neither willing to let go, as if parting would shatter the fragile reality they had managed to reclaim.

But with an unspoken agreement, their eyes met, and slowly, their lips found each other in a kiss that was both fervent and tender.

It was a mix of deep longing and careful delicacy, as if they were made of fragile porcelain, afraid that any sudden movement might break the bond they had just rediscovered. The kiss bore the weight of lost time and unspoken regrets, a bittersweet acknowledgment of a love that had once meant everything ─ a tentative step toward healing the trauma they had both inevitably faced and shared.

When they finally pulled away, it was with a hesitant urgency, both fearing the other might disappear, as if the moment had been nothing more than a dream.

A quiet, almost disbelieving chuckle escaped them both. With eyes shimmering and full of tears, they whispered in perfect unison, “You're alive.”

To anyone else, the words might have sounded grim, a strange thing to say with such relief. But for them, it was more than just an observation ─ it was a confirmation, a shared acknowledgment of the impossible moment they were living.

“I am,” they said in unison again, their voices soft but laden with mutual relief. A small, genuine smile touched their lips.

“How did you find me?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with curiosity and wonder. Yn’s mind raced, piecing together why her best friend had been so insistent on sending her on this unexpected visit. She looked away briefly, lost in thought, before meeting his gaze again. “Dot did,” she said simply, her expression thoughtful.

Recognition and understanding flickered across his face. “She’s alive?” he asked quietly, a mix of surprise and confusion in his voice. Yn tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing with genuine curiosity. “Well, why wouldn’t she be?”

He sighed, his face a canvas of conflicting emotions as he looked at her. “Long story, love,” he murmured, the term of endearment slipping out naturally as he gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, as if it were part of their unspoken language.

Yn’s smile only deepened, her eyes shining with a warm, nostalgic light. Hearing him use that term again brought a bittersweet comfort. “I’ve got time,” she replied softly, her tone inviting him to share more.

Remember the tale of the two swans? Even amidst the loss, the white swan held onto the belief that they were destined to meet again. In a way, their story mirrored this. Though fate had separated them, it had overlooked one truth: the possibility of reunion, whether in life or death. While no one could truly alter fate, that didn’t mean hope was in vain.

They proved this belief true. Though they were no longer fated to be each other’s, destiny had never decreed they couldn’t forge a new path together. The path ahead would be long and fraught with challenges, but even if they could never fully reclaim what they had lost, having another version of each other was a gift beyond measure.

It was a bittersweet acknowledgment that while they might never fully reclaim the past, the chance for a new beginning made every step of the journey worthwhile.

Three months had quietly unraveled since that singular encounter, each day slipping by like sand through fingers, leaving behind an unfamiliar yet comforting residue of contentment. It was a feeling neither of them had tasted in what felt like ages, a gentle calm that settled in the spaces where anxiety once reigned.

During this time, it was no surprise that Yn remained in contact with Five. Their connection, fragile yet persistent, was nurtured through careful secrecy. With Dot’s clever assistance, they managed to keep their rendezvous hidden, safely out of the Commission's sight ─ a vital necessity, for Yn was determined to shield him from the shadows of that life again.

Dot's ingenuity extended beyond mere meetups; she devised a way for Yn to send letters to Five whenever the tides of their busy lives pulled them apart. Each letter was a memorable, tethering them to one another across the distance, allowing their bond to reflourish quietly. And now, those letters had led them to this very moment, standing together outside Yn’s new home, anticipation in the air,

Five, usually so composed, found himself uncharacteristically nervous, a rare sight for someone who had faced the end of the world more than once. But the reason for his unease was clear.

Over those three months, countless conversations and reassurances had chipped away at his reluctance, finally giving him the courage to face a reality he had long avoided: meeting his daughter. It was not an easy decision. The idea of stepping into a role that once would’ve belonged to another version of himself had weighed heavily on him. He feared it might feel like replacing someone, a ghost of his own making.

Yet, despite his trepidation, curiosity still gnawed at him. A longing to know this person who shared his blood, but not his past.

Standing on that threshold, the soft patter of rain on the porch creating a delicate symphony around him, Five was suddenly transported back to another time, many years ago. He could almost feel the weight of a ring in his trembling hand, hear the murmur of vows as they escaped his lips, each word woven with threads of love and fear.

That moment, when he stood before his past lover, was etched into his memory with a clarity that time could never dull. And now, as the rain whispered against the ground, he felt the same mix of emotions stir within him, knowing that once again, he was on the brink of something that could change everything.

“Yeah, no, I can't do this.” Five muttered, his voice tight with sudden panic as he tried to turn and walk away. But before he could take more than a step, a gentle hand caught his arm, pulling him back with a softness that contrasted the storm brewing inside him.

The woman beside him, her eyes warm with understanding, smiled softly at his flustered demeanor. “It’ll be fine, I promise,” she assured him, her voice carrying a calm certainty that made his doubt seem almost foolish.

“How can you be so sure, though?” he questioned, his eyes searching hers for the reassurance he so desperately needed.

“Uh, I birthed her?” she replied with a teasing lilt, her smile growing as she tilted her head slightly. “I wouldn’t doubt her for a second, okay, love?” She leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, her lips lingering just long enough to leave a trace of warmth. “But… if you do feel like this is too much, then I won’t force you.”

Five hesitated, his eyes darting away as he wrestled with the weight of his emotions. But then, with a deep breath, he looked back at her, steeling himself. “No, no… it’s fine. I can do this.”

She gave him one last reassuring smile before turning to knock on the door. Within moments, the door swung open, revealing Dot, her face lighting up with excitement at the sight of them.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up!” Dot teased, her eyes twinkling as she stepped aside to let them in. “Come on in, you two. We’ve been waiting forever!”

Yn stepped inside first, Five trailing close behind, his nerves still coiled tightly. They shrugged off their coats, hanging them neatly on the rack. But before they could even gather their thoughts, the sound of tiny, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway, accompanied by the soft giggles of a child.

Yn’s heart swelled at the familiar sound, and soon enough, a tiny head peeked around the corner, wide eyes brimming with curiosity, before breaking into a wide smile when she spotted her mother.

“Mama!” Odette squealed with delight, her little legs carrying her swiftly across the room. Yn dropped to her knees, her face softening into a warm smile as she opened her arms wide.

“There’s my little swan,” she greeted her, her voice tender as she scooped her daughter into a tight hug. Odette’s arms wrapped around her neck, her giggles muffled against Yn’s shoulder. “I missed you, my love,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her daughter’s head, savoring the sweet moment.

“I missed you more, Mama,” Odette giggled, hugging her mother tightly. After a moment, she eased back just enough to peek up at the man standing a few feet away. Her little face scrunched in curiosity before her gaze shifted back to her mother, her eyes narrowing slightly as if lost in thought.

Five stood a short distance away, watching the scene unfold with a mix of awe and emotion. It felt surreal, like he was witnessing something he never thought possible. The little girl had his eyes, even that familiar smile he wore in moments of joy. The sight filled him with a profound sense of completeness, yet left him slightly stunned, as if he were still trying to fully grasp the reality of it all.

Dot, sensing the need for some privacy, offered a knowing smile. “Well, I’ll leave you three to catch up. I’ve got a few things to wrap up at the Commission,” she said, waving as she backed toward the door. “Take care, and we’ll catch up soon, alright?”

“Thanks, Dot,” Yn said, her smile full of gratitude as she watched her friend leave.

Now, with just the three of them in the room, the atmosphere shifted slightly. Odette, who had been entirely absorbed in her mother’s embrace, suddenly turned her attention back to the unfamiliar figure nearby. Her curious eyes studied him for a moment before she cautiously inched closer. There was a brief pause, as if something clicked in her young mind, and then, without warning, she bolted forward.

Five instinctively crouched down, still stunned by the sudden movement. “Whoa—” he began, his voice faltering as Odette launched herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. The shock on his face quickly softened, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her, his heart swelling with an emotion he had almost forgotten.

She squealed with joy, her small voice bright as she nuzzled into his shoulder. Looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes, she asked, “Are you my mommy's boyfriend?”

Five blinked, caught off guard. “Uh... yeah, I suppose so,” he replied, slightly bewildered. Odette beamed and hugged him even tighter. “That means you’re my daddy!” she declared with the certainty only a child could have, her innocent enthusiasm filling the room.

He chuckled softly, a sense of ease enveloping him as he hugged her back, the weight of his past worries melting away. “I guess it does, huh, little one?” he murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Yn watched the scene with tears brimming in her eyes, overwhelmed by the sight before her. This was the moment she had dreamed of, and seeing it come to life was more than she could have ever hoped for.

Odette, brimming with energy, quickly pulled away and started chattering excitedly. “Mama told me about you! She said you’re really strong, have pretty eyes like me, and have super cool powers! Can you show me? Please?” she begged, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Five hesitated, his smile tinged with a hint of regret. “I wish I could, sweetheart, but I can’t right now. Maybe another time, okay?” he gently declined, ruffling her hair.

Odette’s face fell slightly but then brightened again. “Okay… But you’re staying with us, right? Forever?” she asked, her voice full of hope.

Five looked into her big, expectant eyes and nodded. “As long as you’d like me to,” he promised, pulling her close once more.

Yn watched them, tears finally spilling over ─ tears of happiness, relief, and love. The family she had dreamed of for so long was now becoming a reality, and seeing it all unfold was more than she could have imagined. In that moment, as she observed the genuine connection and warmth between them, everything had felt perfectly aligned.

‎

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #reader insert #fem reader #imagine #fanfic #aidan gallagher

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thedevilrisen · 19 days ago

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begging for quinn hughes and “How did you end up like this?” 😵‍💫

Quinn considered himself a tool-body. He was smart and good enough with his hands to fix little problems around both yours and his own respective apartments. A flat battery in a smoke detector, sorted. A leaky window sill, plugged up with silicone before anything could sneak in.

However, on a quaint, sunny Saturday afternoon Quinn went in a little too far over his head when it was decided he would tackle a small plumbing issue. A leaky faucet, which had been dripping in his kitchen.

Quinn very quickly recognised that he was in far over his head, or in this case his ankles as water flowed, ankle-deep around him. The faucet now turned waterfall was doing little but gushing into the overflowing sink and flooding Quinn’s kitchen. Sodden towels, buckets and makeshift damns were easily over run.

His situation was just plain comedy, a broken wrench in his hand, pipes floating around the kitchen in the miniature swimming pool and water leaking from places it definitely wasn’t meant to be leaking from.

The kitchen, now turned watery battle zone had pots and pans strewn around to stop the flooding, the YouTube video Quinn had been watching in which a few steps were absolutely missed.

When you swung open the door, seeing Quinn standing there like a dear in headlights you couldn’t help but let out a light scoff and smirk.

“Quinn, how did you end up like this?” You asked with mock seriousness, this situation was secretly highly amusing you.

Trying to play it cool Quinn looked back at you, absentmindedly flicking his wrist with the spanner in it, "Okay, so, I watched this video—twice, mind you—and I thought I had it under control. But apparently, there's, like, a valve... or maybe a nut? I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure I turned the wrong one, and—well—everything sort of... exploded?"

You stood there and couldn’t help burst into a fit of giggles as you very clearly remember Quinn stating, “No! Don’t call a plumber, I can handle this!” Reaching for your phone you capture some pictures for future blackmail you asked, “Need me to call that plumber now?”

Thank you for requesting my lovely Ivy! It made my day and I hope this lives up to your standards!

#risen rambles :d #cici’s celebrations 🌼#cici’s gorgeous mutuals 💕#ivy 🌸#quinn hughes #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes imagine #dad quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #qh43 #vancouver canucks #hughes brothers #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n

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toji-sweetheart · 4 months ago

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Hi, love!! It's me!! Can I ever so kindly request toji and (I think) #12? (the one with the house renovation thing cause I can kinda see that) Anyways, have a lovely day!!

18+ only content - mdni

hello, sweetie! how are you? and ofc! I can't help but pair cnc with Toji lmaoo I hope you have a wonderful day as well <3 also, this somehow came out to be 1.1k because I can't help myself when it comes to Toji dsfnvjrtbrt

tags: fem reader + explicit smut + this is a cnc roleplay because I'm a sucker for it and I love husband! toji too much not that with write him fjadf

"Mrs. Fushiguro, is it?" Toji looked at you but it was hard to tell where he was exactly looking due to the hat he wore the bill blocking out his green eyes, the patch that made you want to giggle was from an old home repair, something he picked up thrifting a few years back.

You conjured up a frown and crossed your arms under the swell of your tits pushing them up, the sheer fabric of your robe opened more fluttering from the soft summer breeze that whooshed around your hulk of a husband who stood there. "Yes, it's just me at home."

The whole deal was you were supposed to pretend to be a housewife with the cliche husband who was away at work so you had to hire another man to your house to fix it up. Toji stepped inside nodding.

His eyes swept around the room looking at it like he hadn't seen it every day for the last seven years. "Your husband leaves you alone at home?" Toji tsked his actions as he followed you to the kitchen.

It was beyond cheesy to do repair man and lonely wife wanting someone to finally pay her attention and you played the part really well of being grumpy and snapping a little. "He sure does, work is more important to him than anything, can you just fix it please?"

He hummed and watched the way your dress clung to the fat of your ass which left nothing to the imagination, and it was hard to stay in character. You're his wife.

The idea of even a fictional man upsetting you made his stomach burn. "The kitchen faucet needs to be fixed, it's dripping like crazy." You told him pointing to the sink that sure enough dripped, the drops hitting the metal creating a ting that grated on your nerves.

Toji fixed the belt on his hips and walked forward passing by you, his smell wafted under your nose like in a cartoon and you cursed your ovulation week, it was hard to resist him when he looked at you with a smirk, his scarred lips split as you rattled on about your fake man.

He situated himself under the sink as you watched for a brief moment. "I'll be outside if you need anything." You told him before walking out to the patio, sinking on the outdoor couch with a sigh.

It felt warm from being baked under the sun, it fused to your skin making you feel a little better as you laid back letting the rays wash over you making you look ethereal Toji thought as he watched you.

The sink was an easy fix seeing that he was the one who had to make it drip the night before to make the role-play feel more real, the burning in his gut seemed to shift to something else the longer he stood there with his eyes glued to you.

"Everything is done, Mrs. Fushiguro. Anything else you might need to be done?" He asked mentally calculating the fake prices in his head.

You cracked one eye open and sat up stretching your arms above your head before you stood to guide him back inside pointing out all the small things Toji could do when it wasn't going to lead to sex.

He had to stifle laughter that threatened to bubble up as he followed after, his eyes glued to your ass again. He knew he couldn't touch you just yet and you were driving him crazy.

You had disappeared once you showed him all the things to fix which took him an hour, and with each minute that passed by Toji wanted to say fuck it and take you on the couch but he willed himself not to.

"Everything is fixed now." Toji's voice jolted you as you rooted around in your purse for your wallet in the kitchen.

While he waited he stepped in closer catching your attention. "It's quite expensive, it ain't cheap for labor. Your husband didn't leave you any money?" He prodded leaning over to look in your purse.

"He—" You cut off with a groan as your search didn't produce anything. "How much is it?" You asked putting your hands on your hips and staring at him cocking an eyebrow.

He rattled off a price that was near something he's had to pay before. Your eyebrows all but shot up to your hairline. "I don't have that."

"Oh? You didn’t know the price for the renovation was going to be this high? Not a problem, there are other ways to pay… hm? What do you mean you don’t want to. Well, it’s too bad because I’m not leaving."

His words made your belly swirl with heat as you scoffed and rolled your eyes. "You can go to hell, I'm not paying with my pussy." You shot back watching as his hand shot out to grasp your wrist.

Toji pressed his thumb against your pulse feeling it race which split his lips into a smirk that reminded you of a werewolf finally catching their prey. "Well, it’s too bad because I’m not leaving without some sort of payment, pussy or money works best for me." He purred.

You tried to yank your wrist back, your glare searing. "I'm sure it does." You snapped wanting him to toss you over his shoulder or even take you right here on the kitchen floor, the idea made your skin break out in heated goosebumps as you jerked away from him.

Green eyes watched as you tried to scurry out of the kitchen but he was on you pulling you down to the floor gently as he pinned you under him, his hands wandering under your dress to your tits.

His big palms groped and squeezed them watching as your eyes fluttered shut while tilting your head back to offer your neck to him, Toji brushed his thumb along your nipple softly hearing you whine.

Bringing his knee up a little he knew you'd grind yourself down on it, your bare pussy pressed against his jeans as you rocked your hips while your fingers clawed at the floor. "Stop! Please!" You sobbed.

It was the opposite really, you didn't want him to stop.

But for the sake of the roleplay, you kept it up even when his fingers trailed down to your pussy playing with it and hearing just how wet you were. "If you want me to stop then why are you so wet, darlin'?"

Your comeback died on your tongue and went to heaven when his thumb skated across your aching clit that throbbed under his touch, he was quick to pull down your dress to latch his mouth around your nipple that he suckled on drawing pleasure from your soul it felt like.

Thick fingers slid into your wet heat with a squelch that would make you whine in embarrassment but right now you didn't care, nor did you want to do the role-play anymore, you just wanted him.

feedback such as comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, those kind words mean a lot and encourage me to do more writing ♡

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sstormyskyess · 1 year ago

Text

Self-Doubts

author's note: wanted to explore some of the insecurities these fellas would have to get a better feel for how to write them!

cw: hurt/comfort, body image issues, domestic situations, anxiety

word count: 1900+

TF-141 x GN!Reader

Simon “Ghost” Riley [body image]

♡ Ghost is aware that he’s an attractive man. He’s been told as much for most of his life and people tend to put themselves out there for him, so he’s always figured there must be something to him that causes it.

♡ But only he had seen the body under all the layers of black clothing he often covers himself with. His body is more scars than unblemished skin, an eternal reminder that he was beyond saving.

♡ That’s why, when you wormed your way into his lacerated heart, he was hesitant to undress around you. He didn’t want you to see the man underneath the shell of the impenetrable “Ghost,” the man that kept his trauma on a tight leash and hid away from his true self.

Simon shuffles forward further down the bathtub to let you settle in behind him, your thighs resting on his hips. His heart is pounding in his chest, as it often did when he was bare in front of you. Despite the warmth of the bath you’d run for the both of you, a shiver travels up his spine when your hands wrap around his chest.

“You still okay, Si?” You rest your cheek on his back, keeping your hands still over his stomach. All he gives you is a hum, so you prompt again, “I need words, hun.” He responds with a shallow nod and, with a slight shake in his voice, “I’m alright, love.” You nuzzle your cheek against his spine in response, a silent reminder that he’s here, with you.

Things were still for a while, the only sound being the leaky faucet you still needed to get fixed dripping into the bath. You quietly paw at his stomach and move slowly up his chest, tracing over his scars as you did. You halt before you start to kiss the scars on his shoulder blades, the ones that you’ve committed to memory.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when you take hold of one of his hands, pulling it up far enough that you could see it over his shoulder. There was one big scar across his palm that he received in the times before he started wearing gloves to cover his calloused hands. You always came back to it; it was one of the most clear signifiers of his journey through his career, and you loved to appreciate anything and everything that showed you his path before meeting you.

He watches you regard the scar, able to see the face you always make when you admire his body like this. He smiled at the thought and some of the tension in his muscles left. He took your other hand and brought it up to his lips to place a kiss on your knuckles, returning the affection you so graciously gave him.

John “Soap” Mactavish [his future]

♡ Soap has been in his field of work for around eight years and he’s made his way through hell time and time again. He’s a skilled operator and with that comes many dangerous situations, often life or death.

♡ But really, he wants to make it far enough in life to retire and return to civilian society, far away from the turmoil that tainted him day and night, 24/7. The worst part is that he knows it’s unlikely he’ll make it that far.

♡ It got worse when he met you and you solidified in his mind that his true goal was making it to a calm life, free of gunfire, constant deployment, and all of the other struggles that came with a job like his.

“Aye. Love you too, mum.” Johnny hangs up the call and puts his phone on the coffee table with a sigh. His mom was calling to let him know that his sister was going to be having a baby shower in a month or so; his niece’s birth was just around the corner, expectedly two months from now.

Hearing about the lives of his family members makes him feel so selfish sometimes. He knows it’s silly and that he shouldn’t be worrying so much about it, but he just can’t seem to help it. Even when he knows you’re just a room away, making some dinner for the both of you, he can’t help but think about what life could be like were he living the life the rest of his family was. He gets up and looks over to the kitchen before making his way over.

You jump when you feel Johnny’s arms wrap around your waist. He buries his head against your neck and presses some soft kisses there. “Hi, baby. What do you need?” You smile and reach back to run your fingers through his messy overgrown mohawk, earning you a pleased hum. He rests his chin on your shoulder to watch you cooking, a warmth in his heart swelling at the domesticity. “Do you think we’d ever get married, dove?” He asks, rocking you two back and forth gently.

You blink, surprised by the sudden question. “I wouldn’t be opposed. You’re the best guy I could ever hope to be with the rest of my life.” Your smile widens as your mind wanders to the life you and Johnny could live together. Johnny’s soft, dreamy sigh brushes along your neck and it feels like his posture slumps forward just a bit in relief, your words soothing his stormy thoughts. “I’ll keep that in mind, bonnie.”

Standing there in the comfortable silence with you only solidified in his mind that he wanted to be there with you for the rest of his life. All he wanted to do in that moment and every moment after was take care of you, to make you feel safe.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick [perfectionism]

♡ Gaz knows how important the role he plays is. His work furthered the safety of civilians the world round, and he knows he’s good at it.

♡ But along with knowing the importance of his work was a double-edged sword; he knew that if he ever faltered or failed his mission, people would die as a result. The screams of civilians echoed in his mind every few nights he tried settling in for bed, his mind much too overactive for his own good.

♡ Overworking himself was a consequence of his troubled thoughts. He would be lifting in the gym until his muscles gave out on him, firing in the range for hours into the night, running laps around the base, all to your dismay as you watched him work himself half to death.

Kyle’s lungs heave as he bends over with his hands on his knees. You had followed him when he got out of bed earlier tonight and he apologized profusely for waking you up. He’s been on the treadmill for an hour, going on an hour and a half. You stare at him, concerned out of your mind. You’d long since stopped your own workout, the weights left on the rack and a bottle of water in hand.

This was the third time in the past week he’d subjected himself to this self-flagellating exercise schedule. You knew why; this past mission was quite the disaster. Too much destruction, too many civilian casualties, and an escaped terrorist was a perfect combination to make Kyle’s mind run wild with disappointment in himself. He was an empathetic individual and it always came back to bite him after missions like this.

You aren’t sure whether or not he noticed you in here with him, so when you got up to approach him you walked with purposeful steps, loud enough to alert him to your presence. His head perked up and he turned to look at you. He cursed under his breath after wiping his forehead with the towel slung over his shoulder and stepped off the treadmill.

“Sweetheart, I said you could go back to bed.” He frowned when he met your eyes, seeing the exhaustion in them but not realizing that you saw the same exhaustion in his. “Someone needed to drag you back once you eventually collapsed.” You mutter, looking away. You didn’t want to be frustrated with him; you knew that he couldn’t help it. But seeing him with his legs nearly buckling under his own weight hurt your heart. “I’m okay, I promise—”

He’s cut off by your sigh and you take him by the hand to drag him over to the nearest bench, sitting him down. “You’re not okay. I’m getting your stuff and we’re going back to bed.” You state matter-of-factly before walking off to do just that. He knew that you were miffed, but it still felt good to know you had his back.

John Price [his relationships]

♡ Price is a busy man; he’s the captain of a private task force, of course he was. His work basically consumed his entire life, with no room for much else.

♡ Friends and romantic partners were pie in the sky for him, and he sometimes wondered if he would be able to maintain a healthy relationship with anyone outside of work. He had tried before and every time, it ended with things falling apart and him leaving someone broken hearted.

♡ His worries were quelled when you made friends with him and eventually entered a romantic relationship, but still, he was concerned with balancing his relationship with you and his relationship with his work. Sometimes, he wondered if he was even strong enough to pull both sides of himself together into one man.

John picks up the dinner plate that you made for him a few hours ago. It had gotten cold by now, the plastic cling wrap around the plate having settled over the food and sticking loosely to it. He sighs and peels it off, turning to the microwave to reheat the plate. He leans back against the counter and stares at the floor, his thoughts crowding every corner of his mind.

You were already in bed, sleeping soundly. At least he hoped. You had asked him a couple times to come to bed, but he insisted he needed to finish the mission reports he was writing. Every time he pulled this little maneuver, he thought back to every other time he condemned you to going to bed cold. The frown on his face deepens, imagining how you looked right now. Maybe you actually weren’t asleep and were still up waiting for him. The thought made him feel so guilty.

He doesn’t have to dwell on it much longer before he sees you sleepily wander into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing your eyes. John pushes himself off the counter and meets you halfway, resting his hands on your hips. “Head back to bed, doll. I’ll be there soon.” He mumbles the words into the top of your head before putting a kiss there. You shake your head and nuzzle deeper into his hold.

“I’m sorry I woke you up.” He runs one of his hands up and down your spine, the other moving to the small of your back. You hold onto his shirt and take a peek up at him. “It’s okay.” You give him a small smile, trying to soothe his worries. He does so much and you know it was all for you, a fact that warms your heart.

“Come sit and eat your food, hon’.” He huffs a little laugh and nods, taking his plate out of the microwave and picking you up. You giggle and kiss his cheek, letting him carry you to the couch. You let him turn on the TV and settle you in his lap. “Were you dreaming, love?” He asks before starting to eat. Neither of you pay much attention to whatever’s on the screen after that, him listening intently to you recounting your dreams.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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frxxxncx · 1 year ago

Text

need to know - k. soonyoung

»boyfriend!¡kwon soonyoung x fem!¡reader.

»Summary: you just wanted to dance all night long, but the night had other plans for you.

»Tags: smut (MDNI), pet names, establish relationship, chocking, exhibitionistm, dirty talk (I suck at this, I’m not joking), degradation…?, sex in public, bulge kink kind of, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, it’s a little nasty at the end ngl, kinda mean dom!soonyoung, sub!reader.

»Words: 1.7k

note: This concept of Kwon Soonyoung makes me scream in my pillow every night. Need to know was my most played song in 2021.

note 2: Any typo or incoherence that you might find was completely intentional, it’s for the sake of learning about my mistakes.

Your pink mini-skirt danced gracefully with you, stroking your plump thighs softly, fabric barely covering your ass, chest moving slowly, contrasting with the voluptuous motions of your hips.

You felt aroused, only looking for your boyfriend's gaze from the bar counter, you were the one who proposed to go out to dance, but Soonyoung, even though he liked to dance was not in the mood to do it that day, but you were willing to make his cock raise proud, as if you had telekinesis.

You felt someone behind you, but you were certain that it wasn’t your boyfriend, you were going to get away from him but an evil thought crossed your filthy mind, you decided to use the disrespectful guy whom was gripping grossly tight your waist with his flagrant sticky and sweaty hands, you wanted to provoke your boyfriend, but his reaction was taking long that you expected and you were starting to get utterly disgusted by the stranger.

Still it was thrilling, you knew what was coming after this stunt you just made. The movements of your hips were exaggerated, while your hands were placed over the other guy. Gross.

It was extremely uncomfortable to feel the unfamiliar hands travel your body with that intimacy, but at the same time you shiver at the feel of Soonyoung's strong gaze over you. So he finally saw you.

The foreign hands disappeared, being replace for your boyfriend’s hot and heavy touch, you could hear clearly how Soonyoung shouted with rage “Fuck off”. A chill ran down your back, you knew perfectly what was coming and you were so fucking prepared for the consequences of your actions.

His hands were squeezing your waist so tightly, and you were sure the silhouette of his fingers was going to be engraved in your skin in a purplish color by tomorrow. His warm breath felt delicious over the back of your neck, body’s so close you could feel all of him pressed against you. Soonyoung tongue caressed your ear feeling the cold metal of your piercings.

“Did you like provoking me while grinding against that bastard like a fucking slut in heat?” He whispered, one of his hands getting to the hem of your pinky skirt, thighs clenching together at the familiar feeling striking your cunt, his digits travelled over your soft skin, and under your skirt, fingers stroking the fabric of your lingerie.

The darkness of the place played in your favour, no one seemed like they were able to see a thing, or maybe they were just enjoying the show, perhaps they were doing the same with their partners.

The rough palms of Soonyoung caressed your cunt over the silky fabric of your underwear, making you stutter in his arms, his left hand rested on your neck choking you slightly, enough to make you moan at the pressure, you could feel your slick starting soak the thin fabric of you lingerie, you were dripping like a faucet and you needed a plumber to help you fix the problem, most definitely.

His cold fingers sneaked inside your underwear, digits now dripping wet in your arousal, you shivered thrilled with his fingers now rubbing circles in your swollen and needy clit, your hips wouldn’t stop moving anxious due to the strokes that started to become faster and faster, putting more pressure in the delicate bud of nerves, his middle fingers travelled to your core, making his ways inside of you, your hands gripped his wrist tightly, retaining a guttural moan that was building up in your throat.

His ring finger joined inside, now both digits were playing in your warm embrace, rubbing into all the good spots inside of you, while his palm was fondling your clit, his fingers scissoring you, stretching your velvety walls. Your moans slipped from your mouth uncontrollably, and you were so glad that the music was so loud, otherwise everyone would notice how your boyfriend was finger fucking the life out of you.

“You pussy so cute and so wet for me, I can feel your cunt so deliciously tight around my fingers” he whispered in your ear, curling his fingers and tightening the grip in your neck “Come on, baby, beg me for it and I will give it to you” the kiss below your ear makes you gasp, breathing was starting to become difficult “Beg for me, just like the cockslut you are” a high pitch moan escape from you when his fingers stretched more inside of you, the burning feeling only making you wish for more.

“Please, please, I need you” you whine desperately, head pressed against his chest, arching your back and moving your hips, feeling the hard on in the base of your back.

“It turns you on, huh?” His hoarse voice behind you contrasted with he sensual music that was playing now, hand that was fingering you, now unzipping his pants hurriedly“I’m going to fuck you infront of all these people and you are soaking wet for it”

He lifted your skirt and moved your underwear to the side, you felt the fabric tear in your skin, and sighed at it, his cock was caressing your sticky folds, spreading all your juices on his shaft, sliding easily on your lips.

“God, you’re so ready for me” he purred, and without thinking twice he thrusted inside of you groaning satisfied after bottoming you out, a loud and guttural moan break from you, due to the force and the toughness of the thrust it kind of burned, but it burned so good that the coil that been building in your belly increased enormously.

“Ooh, baby, you’re so perfect, so good for me” Soonyoung’s dancer hips pistoned with an animalistic pace, biting your lips was starting to become a poor attempt to muffle some of your whimpers, even the wet and lewd sound was beginning to echo over the music in your ears.

Your velvety walls were clenching around Soonyoung’s dick, making him groan satisfied, the sound of his voice caressing your ears like honey, almost triggering your desired orgasm.

The pleasure filled your insides and your clit wouldn’t stop pulsating under Soonyoung insisting rubs, left hand gripping firmly your neck taking your breath away, the coil in you belly was so close to bursting, your hips trembling and colliding with his that wouldn’t stop pistoning into you, every thrust tougher than the other.

At some point, both of his hands rested on your belly, pressing not tight but just enough to make you see stars over your head like a pretty halo, his dick jammed inside of you and the pressure of his hands made you feel like your guts were being rearranged, everything was hot and narrow, your lips were bright red and glossy, you thought that tomorrow they would hurt so bad.

Soonyoung kept hammering into you, one hand pressing your stomach and the other taking your breath away once again, while his hips drilled into you fast and messy, your so desired orgasms stroke through you, body jerking forward as you howled in pleasure, while he kept grunting on the damp skin of your nape, and finally he let go of you neck. He plumped himself dry into you, painting your insides white.

And perhaps it was because you were on a public place or maybe it was the fact that your boyfriend just was exceptionally good at fucking you, but if he wasn’t holding you tight, you would be in the floor due to the overstimulation.

“Fuck, I think we need to go home” he said getting out of you slowly, hearing you whine in the process, now he was fixing his pants and holding tight onto you.

The words could get out of your mouth properly, you only remained clinging onto Soonyoung’s arm while his still warm cum travelled in the soft skin between your thighs, your cunt was sore, even then you could feel his dick inside of you, making you shudder, your legs were all wobbly and the sticky load was peeking from the edge of your skirt. Soonyoung felt bad about it and wiped it as much as he could with his hand, and then he fixed your underwear so his cum wouldn’t go anywhere.

You tried to walk while grabbing your boyfriend’s shirt tightly, but your legs just gave up and a mini scream came out when you felt like falling on your face.

“Sonnie, I can’t, my legs” you said, stuttering looking at your boyfriend with shining eyes because of the tears, still moaning quietly trying to stand still.

He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows and a smirk, satisfied of having fucked you so well you couldn’t even walk, but still he felt a little -just a little- bad for you, maybe he was to rough, you liked it though.

Chuckling Soonyoung gave you one last look full of joy and breathed out surrendering.

“Come on, pretty, I’ll carry you” he said before lifting you into bridal style, making you feel as light as a feather. “When we get home, I’ll make us a warm bath and I’ll clean you up very well, it’s okay, honey?” He asked in a childish tone, making you laugh and nod at the same time.

Once you were outside the club, Soonyoung made sure to put you in the passenger seat carefully but still a gasp came out of you, he zipped your belt and closed your door, and then he went to his seat.

During the drive home, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit tense because of the sticky mess in between your legs, but still the light burn in your core felt quite pleasant making your cunt pulsate.

When you finally where in front of your house, you sighted “Next time instead of fucking in the middle of the dance floor, better drag me to the car and fuck my brains out here” the embarrassment was starting to kick in, the liquid confidence losing its effects.

Soonyoung looked at you with a crooked smile "why next time when I can do it right now?"

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mintmatcha · 4 hours ago

Note

obsessed with kirishima in that new sero series ngl,,, if you ever want to or decide to write, i'd love to hear abt kirishima and reader hanging out- or just how they are with each other. how they became friends etc etc

anyways,,, how have u been miiiint how's it going ;w;

on her knees, his mom smoothed his hair down one day and told him he had to be friends with the girl across the hall. the city was still half built from after the war, his own cuts healed, yet pink.

"you're such a sweet boy," she mumbled, with a kiss on the forehead. "go be sweet."

and so, he was marched over, box of sweets in hand.

"i'm eijiro-" he uses his given name when you answer the door, instead of the family one labelled outside their door. "my mom made these for you."

You don't reach out to take the box. he's afraid you're about to back up and close the door when you shake your head.

"you d-didn't need to do that," you whisper, ducking away from eye contact. Oh, he thinks. That's why his mom sent him over here.

"it's cool!" He pushes the box forward and you gingerly take it, "My mom loves to do stuff like this."

You bow, just a dip of your head, and Kirishima gets a view into the apartment. It's smaller than his family's, with the living room right by the front door and the walls glossed with pink posters. There's a bookshelf packed with figurines and manga.

"whoa." Kirishima gapes. "your parents much really like anime."

"Oh, uh-" You shut the door a bit, trying to block his view. "I-it's just me. I like anime."

"Your parents let you decorate the apartment? That's so cool."

"no, it's just me." You still can't meet his eye. "My parents live out in the country side and it's too far away from my school."

It's not uncommon for students to get apartments near their high schools, but Kirishima thinks it's a strange choice for something as skittish as you. Living by yourself, in the middle of the city, while they rebuild it all: he doesn't know if he could do it.

"That genius school down the road?" Kirishima points in the (probably incorrect) direction. It's not UA, of course, but it's just as competitive to get in. "You gotta help me with math sometime-- I'm drowning."

For the first time, you smile.

"I am not a genius," you say. "But I can take a look."

Thursdays turn into tutoring sessions. You're a year behind him in school, but a year ahead of him in math, which makes you a tough grader. Kirishima thinks that you might actually be a genius sometimes. His mom pays you in warm meals, his dad irons your uniform for you when he has the time.

It fills the gap leaving the dorms left in his social life.

"don't you get lonely?" he asks one night, sitting in the middle of your apartment. the faucet leaks, a constant, drip, drip, drip, that your dad promises to fix the next time he can make the train ride over. "your friends from school never come over."

you've scribbled little Xs across your piece of scrap paper, each one tiny and dark, drawn with a shaking hand.

"yeah," you say, "it's okay. they're just busy, i guess."

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callsign-rogueone · 3 months ago

Text

lean on me

Sawyer Henrick + Ridoc Gamlyn Sawyer runs out of painkiller and drags himself, fully clothed, into an ice-cold shower in an attempt to take the edge off. It works, but once he sits down on the tile floor, he can’t get back up to turn the water off. Feeling that his rider is trapped there, freezing cold and dissociating, Sliseag reaches out to Aotrom, who sends Ridoc to the rescue. words: 3.2k 🏷️: trying something new, so be gentle with me pls, written before the release of Onyx Storm, set 2-ish weeks after the end of Iron Flame. nonsexual nudity, brief description of Sawyer’s injury site (Rid changing his bandages) but no blood or anything, mentions of nausea and skipping meals, the word puke is used exactly once, painkiller reliance, negative self-talk — Sawyer’s self esteem issues re: the injury and not bonding in his first year make an appearance, as well as Ridoc's guilt for letting things get this bad. this could be read either as platonic or as a ship fic, if you want. there’s mutual I love you’s in there, but nothing too romantical — and if you aren’t cuddling with your homies on the regular, wyd?

“Sliseag’s boy needs you.”

Ridoc is out his door and down the stairs in seconds, headed to the first-floor room they’d moved Sawyer into after he’d been discharged from the infirmary. The door is unlocked, the room empty, but he can hear water running in the bathroom right across the hall.

“Sawyer?”

No response.

Then he sees a person sat against the wall under the spray of one of the faucets — unmistakably Sawyer, from their red-brown hair and pale skin. He’s still dressed. He hadn’t drawn the curtain, seemingly just turned the water on and sat down under it.

“Sy?” Ridoc tries again quietly, not wanting to startle him — nothing. He reaches up to turn the water off, and only then does Sawyer seem to notice his presence, looking up from his blank stare at the opposite wall.

His cheeks are wet, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes red and swollen from crying. His entire body is trembling — from pain or from the cold, Ridoc can’t tell. How long has he been sitting here?

Ridoc steps into the shower and kneels beside him. Water instantly soaks into the knees of his pants, but he’s used to the cold, being an ice wielder. Regardless, he isn’t focused on that right now, just on making sure Sawyer is okay.

Maybe okay isn’t the right word. There’s clearly something wrong if he’s in the shower fully clothed, and okay might be too lofty a goal for him these days after losing more than half a leg.

Sawyer blinks a few times, coming back to reality and seeing the soft expression on Ridoc’s face — not pity, but genuine concern and love.

Sawyer had pushed him away for two weeks, pushed everyone away and insisted he’d be fine on his own, but Ridoc is here with him now. He was willing to climb in with him, to sit across from him in the cold water and guide him back into reality. He knew something was wrong, despite Sawyer’s reassurances that he was fine, and he sought him out in hopes of fixing it.

“Hey,” Ridoc coaxes softly. “Talk to me.”

Sawyer can’t form words. Tears start to slip down his freckled cheeks, mixing with the cold shower water that’s still dripping from every inch of him.

Ridoc moves closer, until he’s just inches away — hesitant, not wanting to cause him further pain.

Sawyer closes the gap for him, letting his head drop against Ridoc’s shoulder as he continues to cry, quiet little sniffles that break Ridoc’s heart right in half.

“I know it hurts, Sy. I’m so sorry.”

He wraps the older boy in a hug, not minding the cold water that soaks from Sawyer’s clothes into his. His heart clenches as he realizes how thin Sawyer has gotten without the daily exercise, and without as much food — the healers had said something about the pain tonic reducing appetite and causing nausea, but the squad had been too relieved that he was still alive to properly focus on the instructions they’d been given.

Ridoc can’t help but berate himself for letting it get this bad. He should have been more careful. He should have checked in on Sawyer more often, ignored the boy’s insistence that he’d be fine in his own room at Basgiath, and that the rest of the squad shouldn’t let him keep them grounded.

Second squad had agreed without too much protest, knowing that the fight was far from over, and they needed as many trained riders as they could get.

Still, it shouldn’t have come to this.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats, bringing a hand up to smooth down his wet curls. “We should have been there for you earlier.”

Sawyer doesn’t respond, but his breathing has steadied, the sniffling quieted. He’s still shivering, leaning into Ridoc for warmth — he must have been sitting here for some time if he’s this cold.

“Let’s get you dried off,” Ridoc coaxes.

Sawyer nods against his shoulder, taking a breath to brace himself for the discomfort of standing again.

Ridoc rises to his knees, then his feet, hooking his arms under Sawyer’s to help him up. Sawyer pushes up off the floor, a soft cry parting his lips as the movement sends a needle of pain up his spine.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Ridoc soothes, the only thing he can think to say at the moment. “Hold on to me, it’ll take the pressure off.”

Sawyer shifts his weight, making the five steps to the small bench more bearable.

Ridoc finds a clean-enough towel on the counter, extending it to Sawyer. “Dry your hair if you can. I’m gonna find you some clean clothes, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Sawyer makes the slightest nod of understanding, back to his slow-blinking silence.

Time has been reduced to the slow drip of water down his face. He doesn’t know how late it is, or how long he had sat in the shower. It’s dark out, but it’s January — it gets dark after four.

Ridoc is back quickly. Sawyer still hasn’t dried his hair, so he takes the towel back from him, working it through the wet red curls gently. His hair has gotten long enough to cover the tops of his ears. Ridoc would offer to do something about it later, but he’s not sure Sawyer would trust him with the task. Rhi, maybe.

“Arms up,” Ridoc coaxes.

Sawyer complies, allowing Ridoc to peel the soaked tunic off. It’s unceremoniously dropped to the floor with a quiet splat, replaced with a soft towel that Ridoc wraps around his shoulders.

“Alright. How do you want to do the pants?” Ridoc asks gently. “We’ve seen each other naked before, so I don’t care either way, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable — and I don’t want this to hurt.”

“It’s going to hurt no matter what,” Sawyer says distantly, the first words he’s spoken since Ridoc found him. His voice is a raw whisper, hoarse from disuse. “I can take them off myself if I have something to lean on. Putting new ones on is always harder.”

“Okay. Whenever you’re ready,” Ridoc offers quietly, holding out two hands.

Sawyer wavers a bit as he stands, holding onto Ridoc’s right forearm with one hand as he finds his balance, then slowly starts pulling down one side of the waistband, then the other, until they drop to the floor, a wet heap of fabric around his remaining foot.

Ridoc doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to that sight, if it’ll ever stop feeling like a punch to the gut.

It’s not about you, he reminds himself. However uncomfortable and upset you are about this, Sawyer is probably ten times as much — it’s his body, his life that’s changed forever.

Ridoc guides him back down onto the bench, kicking the soaked shorts aside, next to the shirt, and looks at Sawyer, trying to read the expression on his face.

“Do you want a break, or…”

He shakes his head. “Pass me the shirt?”

Ridoc hands him the dry t-shirt he’d found in Sawyer’s room, one of the few clean garments he had left. He doesn’t ask if Sawyer wants help with this part — he gets the feeling that this is probably deeply embarrassing for him, and that he wants to do as much as he can on his own.

Sawyer tugs it over his head, easily putting his arms through the sleeves, and stepping through one leg of the boxers, pulling them up to his knee.

Ridoc extends an arm again, a silent indicator that he’s ready when Sawyer is.

Sawyer takes another breath, gritting his teeth as he stands, but he seems more steady this time — putting more of his weight on Ridoc, trusting the other boy to hold him up as he dresses himself.

Back down again. Sawyer takes a second to catch his breath, willing himself not to cry again.

“Shorts too, or…”

Sawyer shakes his head no. He doesn’t want to go through the up-and-down again, and he just wants to sleep. That’s all he’s really done this week, because sleep is the only place he’s comfortable — if you don’t count the nightmares, that is.

“Okay. Can I look at the bandage?”

Sawyer nods, exhausted but knowing that the wrapping needs to be replaced; it’s soaked, the cotton gauze swollen with water. He definitely wasn’t supposed to bathe with it on, but he wasn’t really in his right mind when he’d dragged himself into the shower, just desperate for any sort of relief from the bone-deep ache and the shooting pains that keep coming whenever he moves.

Ridoc unwraps the dressing gently, keeping one hand on Sawyer’s other leg in an attempt at comfort, and bracing himself for the worst, but trying to maintain a neutral expression on his face.

It’s not as bad as he’d thought. It doesn’t look infected, and the stitches are still holding the skin together in two intersecting, slightly-wavy lines. They’re probably ready to be removed — he’ll ask about that tomorrow morning, when he takes Sawyer to see the healers.

Ridoc tosses the wet bandages into the trash, reaching under the sink for the basic first aid kit that’s kept in every bathroom in the dorms. There’s enough gauze in there to make a passable re-creation of the neat dressing that had been on it before. It’ll only have to last the night, anyway; the healers will put on a new one in the morning.

“Is that too tight?” Ridoc asks, looking up at him.

Sawyer shakes his head no, eyes still closed. He’s so tired, even after a day of doing hardly anything.

Ridoc stands, gathering the wet clothes and wringing them out over the sink. He’ll wash them tomorrow — Sawyer is running out of clean clothes, having been pretty much bedbound for the last two and a half weeks and unable to do his own laundry.

“You ready to get back in bed?” — A nod. — “Do you want your crutches, or do you want to lean on me?”

“You,” Sawyer says softly, blinking up at Ridoc. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open.

Ridoc pushes down the little swell of pride at Sawyer’s choice, draping the boy’s arm across his shoulders and hooking an arm around his waist to hoist him up. He lets Sawyer set the pace for the twenty-foot walk back to his new room, making sure that he’s well-supported.

Thankfully, Sawyer had never warded his new room, so the door swings open easily, and Ridoc carefully deposits him on the edge of his bed, tossing the still-damp clothes in his laundry basket.

Looking at the clock on his desk through bleary eyes, Sawyer can see that it’s sometime between ten and eleven. Ten thirty, maybe. A reasonable enough hour to go to sleep.

Ridoc should be going to bed soon, if he wants to get a decent amount of sleep before the standard six a.m. wakeup required of the cadets that hadn’t been permanently injured in the battle — everyone but Sawyer.

He’s tired of being the exception. He should be out there training with them, not spending his days sleeping in an uncomfortable first-year bed.

Being back on the first floor for the third year in a row has broken him.

Being in this room all day reminds him of his first first year, when he was one of the only cadets who hadn’t been chosen at Threshing, and thus couldn’t attend most of the classes that everyone else did — leaving him to spend the bigger half of six months entirely alone.

Every hour within these walls is another reminder of his failure. Death by a thousand cuts, or whatever they say.

“Talk to me,” Ridoc says softly. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”

“I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice cracking. If Ridoc doesn’t leave soon, if he doesn’t stop looking at him like that, all soft and concerned, Sawyer is going to cry again. The first time was humiliating enough.

Ridoc keeps pushing, deciding yes-or-no questions might be less overwhelming. “Do you want to eat something?”

Sawyer shakes his head no quickly — he definitely doesn’t want food. Even the idea of eating is enough to turn his stomach. At least Ridoc hadn’t seen him puke.

“Okay. You should probably get some sleep, then.”

Sleep is good. Sleep will numb the pain for a while, and he’s so tired… probably because he’s hardly eaten since he moved out of the infirmary and the healers stopped forcing him to choke down three meals a day.

That had been torture.

Sawyer nods, starting to shuffle back from his seat on the edge of the bed. The bed is unmade, as it has been for the last week and a half, so he’s able to scoot under the duvet easily, pulling it up over himself with minimal discomfort.

Ridoc helps him get settled, draping him with an extra blanket, because Sawyer’s skin is still cold to the touch. He quickly pulls his eyes away from the space where Sawyer’s other leg should be, that’s now just flat, only blankets laid over the mattress.

“If there’s anything you need, anything at all, have Sli tell Aotrom, okay?”

Sawyer nods again, the soft cotton of his pillowcase making a whispering sound under his cheek.

Ridoc straightens the books on Sawyer's desk, picking up a few dirty clothing items that Sawyer had dropped — damn tremors caused by that extra-strength pain tonic that he’d been using around the clock — and hadn’t been able to bend down to reach, or even to kick toward the laundry basket. So on the floor they’ve remained, all week — until now.

Sawyer feels a spike of cold move through his chest, his pulse jumping at the thought of Ridoc leaving, telling him goodnight and disappearing for another two weeks.

“Rid?” he asks in a small voice.

The other boy perks up at the sound of his friend speaking. “Yeah?”

“Do you want to sleep over?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment before Sawyer starts to take it back. “Obviously you don’t have to. I just thought it would be nice. The way it used to be, in Aretia.”

If Ridoc catches the panic in Sawyer’s voice, he doesn’t bring it up. “I thought you’d never admit it,” he says with a slow smile that Sawyer can hear, even with his eyes closed. “You miss me.”

It’s unclear if Sawyer can hear the thick guilt covered by Ridoc’s teasing.

Of course he misses you, Ridoc thinks. You haven’t spoken to him in a week. He needed you, but he didn’t ask for help because he didn’t think you’d care.

You’re a shitty friend.

“Should I steal some of Imogen’s black nail polish, or do you want to make popcorn and talk about cute boys?”

“Get the fuck out,” Sawyer snorts, and then regrets it immediately — What if Ridoc can’t tell that he’s joking?

“Alright. GTFO-ing.”

Ridoc closes the door behind him quietly.

Sawyer squeezes his eyes shut, because he knows that if he opens them, the walls will start to press in on him. This room is the same size as the one he’d had in his parents’ home in Luceras, if not bigger, but after spending two weeks in it pretty much non-stop, it feels like a birdcage or a fish tank that he’d been shoved into.

That’s why he’d never warded the door. He already feels trapped here. If he becomes too weak to channel, he’d be trapped for real.

He hasn’t tried to use his signet, or any of the basic magic, since the battle. It’s unclear if he can, but Sli comes and goes in his mind, and that little red string had remained tied to his rib all through the surgery and his delirium afterward, never once fading or faltering, so he should still have access to it, but he might be too weak to do anything significant with it.

When he gets some of his energy back, he’ll try again. Maybe he can do something useful with it. They can park him in a chair and have him make weapons, more of the runed daggers. That way he’d be helping, instead of dragging everyone down.

That’s exactly what he’d tried not to do, and look where it had landed him.

Ridoc opens the door again after what’s probably fifteen minutes. He’s pajama-clad, his hair damp from the shower, with a pillow tucked under one arm and his duvet knotted around his shoulders like a cape.

“You came back,” Sawyer murmurs. He’s already half-asleep, his eyes closed and cheek smushed into his pillow.

“Of course I did. It’s not every day that your adult male best friend asks you for a sleepover.”

Ridoc scoots the desk chair aside, making space for himself to lay down on the small rug there, untying the duvet-cape.

Sawyer scoots himself over toward the other side of the bed, gritting his teeth. “The floor will fuck up your back. Get up here.”

“If you insist,” Ridoc replies with a grin.

Sawyer would roll his eyes if it wasn’t such an effort to keep them open, about to jokingly retract his offer — only to wince at the feeling of the mattress shifting underneath him.

Ridoc apologizes his way under the covers, trying not to jostle him too much. “I’d offer to rock-paper-scissors over who gets to be the little spoon, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

That gets a lazy laugh out of him, finally.

Ridoc doesn’t think he’s seen Sawyer smile or laugh since before they left Aretia. They’d been in Battle Brief, and Ridoc had made a gods-awful pun around one of Brennan’s serious statements. It had nearly gotten the both of them kicked out of the auditorium from how hard they’d been laughing.

“Thank you for finding me,” Sawyer murmurs. “Probably would have died of hypothermia or something if you hadn’t.”

His hair is nearly dry now, the almost-ginger strands curling up in odd places. Ridoc reaches over to smooth a few of them down, but they spring back up after a few seconds. He keeps doing it anyway.

“You can thank Sli for that, really. He told Aotrom to tell me that you needed help. He loves you, y’know. And he knows that none of this was your fault.”

There’s a soft pause. “We all know that you’d be out there with us if you could. It isn’t the same without you, but until you’re healed and you can make yourself a super badass custom prosthetic and fly with us again, we’ll look out for each other. And I’ll help you with whatever you need — I’m really sorry for dropping the ball on that. I was a shitty friend, and there’s no excuse for it, really, but I’ll try my best to make it up to you.”

It’s a lot to process, and Sawyer is too tired to respond to all of it, but he’s able to sum it up in two mumbled words. “Love you.”

Ridoc smiles, moving his hand away from Sawyer’s hair. “I love you too, dude. Get some sleep.”

Later that night, when Sawyer rolls over and tucks himself into Ridoc’s arms, he doesn’t feel cold anymore, and the pain has dulled.

He decides that he wants pancakes for breakfast.

#sawyer henrick #ridoc gamlyn #sawyer x ridoc #fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing fanfiction #hurt/comfort

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cillianscumslutt · 20 days ago

Text

Careless

Pairing: Johnathan Crane x F!Reader

Synopsis: You never listened to anyone, even when it came to being cautious. Johnathan made sure you were cautious after a night of drinking and carelessly leaving your door unlocked.

Warnings: NONCON, forcefulness,Forced entry,penetration, p in v, fingering, violence, mentions of blood, let me know if I missed any

(GIF is not mine)

Notes: REBLOG AND HEART, REBLOG AND HEART, REBLOG AND HEART

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

It was almost ironic the way you drunkenly sauntered around your apartment complex in your little angel costume. You shivered from the coldness of the October air ,and the constant ac running in the building certainly didn’t help either. But you went out with friends to a party and made the mistake of drinking a bit too much. And you decided to take the train home, alone.

Gotham was dangerous for anyone to be alone at night, but especially for pretty girls like you. Regardless of how many times or how many people would warn you against this, you wouldn’t listen. You never listened.

As you mumbled to yourself about the coldness kissing your skin whilst you unlocked the door of your rather cheap apartment, your neighbor's eyes followed you, watching closely through the peephole of his own apartment. Johnathan Crane was his name. A well known doctor at Arkham Asylum.

He had lived here a little over a year. It was a great disguise to test his theories and fear toxin. Nobody ever came to this part of Gotham, as it was the most dangerous. He hadn’t been expecting to find something or someone for that matter, as intriguing as his studies. But here you were.

As you opened the door to your apartment, you sighed heavily, slamming the door shut and not bothering to lock it since you were too tired. You were careless these days, a little too careless for Johnathan’s liking. What if someone were to come into your apartment while you slept and stole your most valuable possessions? Held you at gunpoint? Or worse yet, took advantage of you?

It was frustrating watching someone so young and new to adulthood be so incredibly stupid when it came to safety. But what was he to say? He observed you well enough to the point he knew you hated being told what to do. He certainly wasn’t going to attempt to make conversation by telling you to lock your door, since you wouldn’t listen and perhaps it would seem a bit creepy for your neighbor to be telling you this.

Over the past six months since you had moved in and Johnathan had started to find an odd fascination in watching you and everything you do, he hadn’t spoken even a word to you. You weren’t necessarily oblivious to your surroundings, but you chose to ignore them or the issues at hand as you did with any other problems in your life. That’s why maybe on this cold October night, Johnathan had decided he had enough of your carelessness and wanted to teach you a lesson.

—

You didn’t drink a lot but you certainly drank too much. Your head thumped a bit as you soaked in your tub, submerged by coconut scented bubbles, watching the leaky faucet drip continuously. No surprise it wasn’t fixed as you had only mentioned it to your landlord three separate times…

It was quiet for a moment, only the leaky faucet dripping and the water moving ever so slightly around you as you relaxed a bit. Your eyes fluttered closed; resting your back against the tiled wall of the tub. This short moment of relaxation didn’t last long as it sounded like the door was being slammed shut just outside the bathroom.

Your eyes snapped open in an instant, moving so quickly the water came in waves, crashing around you and out of the tub. You kept your mouth shut tightly, standing up cautiously before wrapping your towel around you. Bubbles from your bath clung to you, dropping to the floor as you obviously walked out of the bathroom.

“Hello?” You called out, clutching your towel to you. The rest of the house was dark, only the bathroom light was on as you were just there. No one answered, and nothing stirred. But the presence of a shadow could be felt instantly the second you stepped into your dark living room.

A silhouette sat on the sofa, drinking in the way your voice attempted to come out strong and unbothered but deep down, it knew you were scared. The caution in your footsteps said it all as you reached out for the light that was somewhere. The voice of the figure called out in a low, serious tone that was heard so clearly.

“Don’t turn on the light.” Just as quickly as he said it, he wanted to take it back as he had forgotten who he was speaking to. The girl who never listened. But luckily, you were a little further away from the light than you had anticipated.

Your head began to thump painfully as you searched desperately through the dark for the switch of the light before being pulled away. Icy cold hands grabbed you, pulling you into somewhat of an embrace. His arms secured you as his face went to the dampness of your neck from your bath. You smelled heavenly as he took a deep inhale, sinking his teeth into you harshly.

You whimpered, not knowing exactly what to do or say as the stranger held you there. Whoever they were, they smelled nice and had you not been in this predicament, you would’ve complimented them. Another whimper escaped your parted lips as the stranger drew a bit of blood.

He pulled away with a loud sigh, resting his forehead against yours, keeping a tight grip on you. Soft lips pecked at your ear as he whispered, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long. You’re also so careless, silently inviting me in.” He chuckled a bit, pulling at your towel that you held so tightly in your hands.

“N-no…” you finally spoke, voice wavering with uncertainty and fear. Still your head pounded now with the beat of your racing heart at the feel of the strangers grip on your towel, pulling with a slight force.

“No? You say that but, if you didn’t want anyone in here…taking advantage of this body that you flaunt so shamelessly, you wouldn’t have been so stupid to not lock your door.”

And he was right. You knew that. But it was too late to admit that. Too late to fix your mistakes or even argue with him. Still your stubbornness made your pride too great to say anything.

With a harsh pull, your towel was taken from you, making you gasp as you attempted to reach out for it. You hear it hit the sofa, with a wet slap against the fabric from your lack of drying off before exiting the bathroom. Through all the anxiety and fear resting writhing the pit of your stomach, you swallowed it back a bit, glaring at the shadow of the stranger before you.

“Who the fuck are you?”

He chuckled as if it were truly funny to hear you speak so boldly. Once more he enveloped your body in a tight hold that you did attempt to get out of but he had you at an awkward angle, holding your arms behind your back as his cold fingers caressed your thigh.

“Don’t act so fearless now, baby. Nothing wrong with a little fear. Completely normal…fascinating you could say.”

His fingers without warning were shoved inside of you. Three at a time with no mercy nor prep. Another strangled noise left your lips in a mix of pleasure and pain. “I’ll scream!” You wanted, throwing your head back against the stranger's chest.

“Do it. You think someone will save you? This is Gotham. The slum of the fucking earth. Nobody cares, but you should’ve.”

And tears began to form, making your lip quiver. Your mind was battling with your body to not react to his touch, but ultimately lost. It’s biological response was too strong against his fingers, making you cum around them before he shoved them in your mouth.

“What a little fucking slut…huh? Dressed like an angel but you’re coming on my fingers like your pussy needed it so bad.” He said in your ear in a harsh whisper, making sure you cleaned his fingers.

“I hope you’re ready for my cock…your little attempts of bravery got me so hard. I can sense the anxiety you feel, being fucked and forced by a stranger. But you like that, don’t you?”

You didn’t answer, still attempting to keep what dignity you had to yourself. He roughly shoved you against the wall before you heard a zipper and clank of a belt unmistakably hitting the wooden floorboards. He parted your shaking legs, moving his fingers ever so slightly at the slick of your orgasm from before.

“No fight left, huh? If I would’ve known you would give up this easy, I would’ve done this a long time ago.”

It was shameful to hear him say this. To mock your silence as a weakness. You were treading carefully with your options, not wanting to die in this situation but also not wanting to go down without a fight. It wasn’t until he drew close, his erection poking at your bare ass as he leaned into your neck once more.

“I hope you’re on some sort of contraceptive because I’m not wasting a single fucking drop.”

You flung your head back hard, hurting your neck in the process as you were sure to hit him hard in the face, hearing the crack of his nose. His stance faltered a bit and you thought maybe you were in the clear to run before you were shoved against the wall once more. His hand entangled in your hair tightly, burning your scalp as he slammed your head against the wall repeatedly.

“You really are a stupid little fucking bitch, huh? I was going to be nice, try and let you enjoy this and be civil, but now I want you to see and feel everything.”

Even in the midst of all this, and the excruciating feeling of your headache that had now worsened from the blows of your head being hit off the wall, you didn’t know what he meant. What was everything? Whatever did he mean?

A cold spritz of something tasteless and odorless hit your face from the side. You started coughing, shaking your head a bit as you sneezed. His grip adjusted a bit as he continued to what you could only guess was removing his pants.

Your eyes began to blink rapidly, seeing shadows of things and creatures in the corners of your eyes. Every time your head turned, they moved. Taunting you with viscous laughter and quickening paces around your apartment.

“Mm, I can’t see it but I know your body is simply amazing.” He spoke out, reminding you of his presence as he pushed the head of his cock inside you. A small gasp left your lips, surprised at the sensation and confused and anxiety at the things that lurked in the dark.

They spoke in unison, shrieking and singing the saddest of cries as they moved past you. Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. You were going to die. They were going to kill you. He was going to kill you.

“Please…” you cried quietly as he began to rut into you, complimenting you on the tightness of your warm , tight pussy around his cock.

“Mmm…please what? What is it?” He grunted, slapping your ass, making it echo throughout the spacious apartment.

“Don’t kill me. Don’t let them kill me…”

He said nothing, only continuing his assault on you as you lay limp between him and the wall. The only support you had was his hold on you that never seemed to falter. “I won’t kill you…I want you to remember this. I want you to think about my cock in you every time you think about leaving your door unlocked, every time you wear that tiny little fucking dress…you’ll remember this.”

He fucked you hard, at a brutal pace. It felt like hours until he groaned, pulling you as close to him as he could manage before coming inside of you. At this point your eyes were on the verge of closing and you were barely conscious as you slumped against him. He breathed heavily, pulling you up and dragging you to your bedroom.

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

—-

It had been a few weeks since the night of your attack. You were now incredibly cautious, as anyone would be. You barely left now unless it was to go to work. Even then, you took time off. You thought it was all a terribly bad dream until the blood from his nose was evident on the floor.

You didn’t even attempt to reach out to the police. Gotham police were useless. They didn’t take calls like this. They were too concerned with finding the villain known as Scarecrow.

You stood alone in the elevator, holding your bag to your chest before someone else quickly entered with you, selecting the floor they needed. His piercing blue eyes looked over to you as he gave you a small smile. You return it, blushing a bit at how attractive this guy was.

“Are you going up as well?”

You only nodded, watching as the elevator doors closed. A small void of silence filled the elevator until he cleared his throat.

“How long have you lived here? You don’t seem like you should be in a place like this.” His voice was soft and professional as he adjusted his glasses, looking over at you curiously.

“Oh, just a few months. Not long really. How about you?”

“A little over a year now. Not exactly the best place, but a more isolated one, I assume. I’m in apartment 7B on the right side. So at least I’m not on the last floor.”

“7B? That’s the apartment right across from mine!” You smile in disbelief.

“Oh really? Wow, we’ll have to have wine together sometime, if you’re up for it of course.” He offered with that same small smile.

You felt your face heat up as the elevator stopped and you both walked together to your sides. You gave him a small nod.

“Sure, absolutely.”

As he spoke, walking past you just the slightest hint of his cologne filled your senses and you recognized it, oddly enough. He smelled so nice.

“Oh, you smell so good. Hope that isn’t weird to say, what is it? I feel like I’ve smelled that scent before.” You ask curiously, cutely tilting your head to the side as Johnathan holds his keys in his hand.

“Oh, thank you. I’m not sure. Was a Christmas present from my grandmother. I’ll let you know the next time I see you.” He winked, now fully facing you.

Suddenly you see a slight bruise under his glasses that connects from the bridge of his nose to the corner of his eye. Your mouth hung open a bit as everything came flooding back to realization.

Whoever they were, they smelled nice and had you not been in this predicament, you would’ve complimented them.

“See you around.” He said your name before disappearing into his apartment, leaving you alone in the hallway of the apartment building with your bag held securely to you as tears filled your eyes.

You shouldn’t have been so careless.

#dark!fic #18+ mdni #johnathan crane #dark!Johnathan Crane #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #cillian fic #scarecrow #smut

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frenchkisstheabyss · 1 year ago

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☾ Wild Horses ☽

☾ Pairing: boyfriend!bang chan x reader

☾ Genre: angst & fluff all stirred up in a pot

☾ Summary: Your boyfriend comforts you when your depression sneaks up on you during a night out with friends.

☾ Word Count: 924

☾ Warnings: themes of depression/mental illness and the feelings that can come along with them

☾ A/N: I wrote this because having depression has led to a lot of loneliness for me lately and I needed some comfort. I hope that by sharing this someone else having similar thoughts/feelings to mine might find a little comfort too 🖤

☾ "No sweeping exits or offstage lines could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind and wild horses couldn't drag me away" - The Sundays, Wild Horses

People can’t imagine what you go through. It’s not a case of bad nerves or run-of-the-mill sadness. Too often you’ve found yourself sitting alone wishing that you could find the words to make them understand that depression is so much more than that. Depression is a parasite that’s wormed its way into your brain wholly consuming you.

The consumption’s gradual sometimes, ravenous at others, but exhausting all the same, stealing little bits of you that you aren’t quite sure how to get back. Everyone says, “I hope you feel better. Hang in there. Keep your chin up” but it’s not simple. And maybe they mean well, maybe that’s all they can say because they don’t know how to fix it, but it only makes you feel lonelier.

The thing is, you’ve never wanted anyone to fix it. You don’t need bandaids to cover the bullet holes in your heart. You just want someone to hold your hand through the pain. It’s why the tiniest flame ignites in the darkness that haunts you when the kind, comfort of Chan’s mahogany eyes lock onto yours, honing in on the most vulnerable parts of you.

“I know sometimes you feel like you have to pretend you’re okay,” he says, the warmth of his palms shielding your cheeks from the autumn breeze, “But you don’t have to do that with me. I’m here for you no matter what. You know that, yeah?” You nod, sucking back tears as you notice the small group of late-night partiers crossing over to your side of the street.

With your back to the wall of a closed restaurant not too far from the club you just left, it’s impossible not to be nervous about the faces that pass you by. Even with Chan somewhat obscuring the view, your stomach churns at the possibility that people might see you falling apart like this. “Hey, look at me” Chan whispers, using the sleeve of his black hoodie to catch the tears that drip down your cheeks like water from a leaky faucet.

The gentle act brings your attention back to him. He cracks a tight-lipped smile, happy to have you back with him. “Don’t worry about them. Come here.” He takes you into his arms, offering you his shoulder to rest your head on. You accept the invitation, nuzzling against him to bathe in the comfort and safety that comes with his embrace. There’s a woodsy scent to his cologne that feels like stargazing by a campfire at night. It puts you at ease. Everything about him does.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your night” you sniffle, playing with one of the strings that dangles from his hood. Tucking his hands under your jacket, he massages your lower back, soothing the tension coiled around your spine. “Baby, you could never ruin my night. The guys were too busy drinking to notice anything and even if they did, who cares? You’re what matters to me.” The emotion in his voice leaves no doubt that he means it wholeheartedly.

You are what matters most to him in this moment and the next. It means nothing to him that a night out at some club had to be cut short because the mask you put on to conceal your pain had begun to crumble, the synthetic laughter and forced smiles becoming too much to maintain. Chan gets it, hiding behind a mask with a happy face painted on it, he does it sometimes too but he doesn't want that for you. He’d rather be out here with you baring this beautiful, teary-eyed face of yours than in there where you feel the need to hide.

“I just,” you take a deep breath, slightly trembling at the truth about to roll off your tongue, “I’m afraid I’ll scare you away one day.” “Scare me? Do I look like I scare easily?” he asks, putting on a brave face the way that a child might. It gets a weak giggle out of you, even at times like this he knows how to get to you in the best way. “No, but I know there are times when things get really dark for me and I can get so lost in it...” He kisses you on the nose, a cute little wet one that turns icy when the wind blows across your face.

“As long as I’m here, and I always will be, you’ll never get lost in it,” he promises, “I know I can’t drag you out of it but you can always call me and I’ll come running in after you.” You need time. A second or two, maybe even a minute, to take in what’s been said. He gives it to you, patiently rocking you in his arms as he lets you process it in silence. A year into your relationship and it still feels strange to be loved in the moments where you feel most broken.

Chest to chest, his heart beats in sync with yours, reminding you that, even in the absence of words, you're cared for. “Where’d you come from?” you ask, fingers tracing the contour of his jaw. “Sydney. Don’t tell me you’re just noticing the accent” he teases, summoning his best pouty face for extra effect. He gets another giggle out of you, still faint with an air of sadness but he’ll take it.

Chan hugs you tighter, kissing your fingertips. “I love you” he whispers. You close your eyes, letting the world around you fade away and your insecurities with it. “Love you too.”

#bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan angst #bang chan fluff #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #bang chan x gender neutral reader #stray kids x gender neutral reader

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seasidefallenangel · 1 year ago

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drain. (kanata yatonokami)

The kitchen faucet is leaking.

It drips at the same pace for seconds, minutes, hours. You know this, and Kanata knows, and Nayuta as well, but the two act as if it doesn’t matter. They’re talking to one another about something you don’t really understand nor care to, not when the faucet is leaking. Your eyes follow every drop, and your hand tremors in tandem with it. They’re talking, they’re laughing, they’re happy. They’re happy. Even with that stupid faucet, they’re happy.

Jealousy isn’t the right word, because if you were to tell Kanata you were jealous of him in any way, shape, or form, he’d either be insulted or disgusted - or maybe a mixture of both. He’d see it as patronizing, he’d think you’re making fun of him, because how are you jealous of the guy who has nothing but Nayuta - (and you, but you’re not really sure you’re something to be happy about having at all.)

The faucet leaks and the drop is so loud in your ears that it covers the jovial laugh of Nayuta. You don’t hate him - far from it in fact. He reads Kanata better than you can, a translator of sorts for the few moments you can’t really read in between the lines of your boyfriend’s words. He gives good fashion tips, he knows a lot of underrated hang-out spots that he shows you, subtly hinting that his twin would enjoy it if you took Kanata on a date there, he tells you about cozmez’s childhood when Kanata is reluctant to. “I think you’re good for him,” Nayuta said to you one night. The two of you were on the couch in their apartment. Kanata had gone to pick up dinner, leaving you with his twin. Your skin crawls at Nayuta’s statement because you know he’s not a liar, which means he’s just stupid enough to believe his own words.

The faucet was leaking then too.

“Thanks,” comes your noncommittal mumble, not even bothering to look up from your phone when you answer him. Part of you feels guilty because Nayuta is, despite everything, a very sweet boy. He deserves better than your bitter responses, and his brother deserves better than you as a whole.

His eyes narrow and he sighs, absentmindedly sketching something on his notebook. The pencil scratches as he continues to speak, “Quit being so mopey. He wouldn’t stick around if he didn’t like you.” And well, he has a point. Kanata’s not a fan of lying, preferring to rip the band-aid off before the wound has even finished healing.

The faucet leaks and the sound reverberates through the walls. You feel your heart sinking with every drop, waiting for the flood to come coursing through. The present rings to the front of your mind once more as Kanata nudges you, quirking an eyebrow up at your silence. You didn’t even notice Nayuta leave, presumably to go meet up with Shiki. Normally you’d join in on the twins banter, but you can’t even pretend like the idea doesn’t make your lunch start to build up in your throat.

“Your faucet is leaking,” you say quietly, eyes glancing at the water that falls. His gaze follows yours before his face shifts into confusion. You could tell he thought that if that was the reason you were so quiet, it was weird at the best and stupid at the worst - and he probably had a point.

“... Usually does. ‘S not that big of a deal anyhow. Just ignore it.” His voice gets quieter towards the end, like the state of their apartment is something to be embarrassed of, like you’re judging him for it. You’re not, but you don’t think you could explain your reasoning for being so upset by the faucet. Your finger taps on the table, slowly speeding up the longer your mind lingers. “You should probably get it fixed.”

Confusion changes to annoyance. “I just said it doesn’t matter. Does it bother you that much?” It’s phrased like a snarky comment, but you can tell there’s something underlying there. If it really did bother you for some reason, if it made you upset, then he’d get it situated to appease you.

Well, you think it’s underlying. Maybe he is actually mad, maybe he can’t stand you.

The faucet leaks, and you’re rotting away inside. Because the faucet leaks but the twins don’t care, the twins have each other, they’re never alone, so much so that the leaking faucet doesn’t even matter to them. They don’t even notice it.

“It’s broken, Kanata.” The crack in your voice is piercing as the tears start welling in your eyes, and you feel pathetic. Who are you to cry in front of Kanata, the boy who had the world drag him to its core and he managed to claw his way to the surface? The faucet drops grow louder when he leans towards you, worry written on his features. It’s subtle in a way that makes you want to scream.

The chair scrapes as you shoot up from the table and over to the sink, hands gripping the rusty metal. Kanata follows behind, bewildered and hesitant because you’re not making any sense and you know it, but you can’t explain it. Because the sentence, “your family loves you so much that the small issues don’t matter” is stupid in theory, but brings you back to the same old place - the one where the faucet leaking was your fault, where the car door wide open in the rain was because of your incompetence, the dog not being fed, the light left on, the minor inconveniences that shouldn’t mean anything turned into screaming matches where your throat bled ; the house that wasn’t a home, but a building filled with strangers to one another, a stark absence of love.

A hand slowly reaches towards your wrist, bony fingers wrapping around it and tugging gently. Your vice grip on the faucet fails to loosen as the mantra of, “it’s broken, it’s broken,” falls from your lips without much thought.

“Cut it out,” he says gently. It’s not the scathing irritation you expected to hear, but rather a concerned request. You think you’d prefer the anger.

He pulls one more, and your hands let it go as you turn to face him with your head hung low. He’s no stranger to trap reactions and trauma which makes this hurt more, because now you’re sure he has an idea of what’s going on inside of you. It’s the worst scenario possible for him to see you as you are.

Your nails dig into your palms and you ignore the liquid rising to coat your fingers, head tilting up to give him a false smile as the metallic scent of blood begins to overwhelm your smell. “Sorry.” Your voice sounds foreign and strange. “I’m fine now.”

His eye twitches and his mouth curls into a frown. You want him to scream at you and to kick you out and tell you to go away forever, because at least the pain of being alone will cover the agony of childhood clutching your throat. But he does none of that - and instead does something decidedly worse.

“Maybe I hide shit sometimes, but I’m trying to be more honest with you. You’re not gonna do the same thing for me?” The hurt in his voice is hidden by false exasperation. You want to grasp him tight, so tight it hurts him and he can never abandon you and fill him with endless words of love. You want to push him away, disappear without a trace like he never met you so he could live without the weight of your burdens pulling him down.

One sniffle, two, before your head leans against his chest and the silent sobs overtake you. He grows stiff for a moment and you can see it in your head, when he pulls away and berates you, but the scene changes when he slowly wraps his arms around you. There’s a small hint of discomfort in his hug - an act so unfamiliar to him - but the part that gnaws at you is how good it feels to be held by him.

It doesn’t make sense, it never will, and to put all your anxieties into words seems impossible. But there’s no denying the love that seeps from his touch, and it’s as constriction as it is freeing. It’s scary to be known but even more terrifying to be concealed, and if Kanata is willing to subject himself to the shattered lifeform that is you, then maybe, just maybe, you can let him slip through the cracks.

#paradox live #paradox live x reader #paralive x reader #kanata yatonokami x reader #paralive #every time i come back i have something new im unwell over #anyway hes my favorite. thog don't caare #angst #scenarios

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yeuheart · 2 years ago

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Eleventh Hour

Itoshi Sae

The steady slow drops of water coming from the faucet starts to make him even more annoyed since you had walked out the door just a moment ago, the reason being from the heated argument you both had. It was stupid or rather he describes it as "immature", and it might be seeing as it’s about the same issue for the third time this month. it wasn’t like you both weren’t doing what you could to fix it, one was just going back to old habits by accident. He turns his head to look at the clock on the stove which reads an admittedly late hour, one that most would refuse to be outside without the comfort of another. He’s starting to worry about you being outside even if it’s only been a minute that passed. Not willing to drown in possibilities, he grabs a few things and heads out to look for you.

As he came out of the building he saw you standing there in front of the road trying to calm yourself down. But before he could accomplish what he wanted yet another albeit small argument erupted making you run across the street out of impulse. He noticed the car coming towards you at abnormal speeds, and he knew he wouldn’t reach you in time but he attempted to do so anyway in hopes there would be the slightest chance something would happen. But before he could reach you the car beat him to it, making him flinch as he closed his eyes. He waited a few seconds before opening them slowly and walked towards the stopped car and saw your body that had just stopped rolling, he ran towards you and hoisted you up in his arms not caring about the blood beginning to soak through his clothes and stain his hands. A string of apologies and promises fell from his mouth as heavy tears started forming that he couldn’t stop. A sudden ringing in his ears started to form as he closed his eyes only to open them and find you staring at him unwounded in his arms asking if he was okay, everything was white besides the both of you being in color. He was confused and terrified after having seen your badly wounded body but he decided that this feels better than seeing that as he answers your question and continues to indulge you. Before he could continue he could hear a faint drop of water falling from somewhere as he looks around and it was only then when he blinks that he was back to reality, it was blurry but he could see one of the EMTs trying to hoist him up as a drop of water falls in his mouth at the same time the faucet drips its last drop until it stops. He only looks to the side noticing the other EMTs putting you in the ambulance with one of them running up to the one hoisting him up.

Nagi Seishiro

He’s frustrated as he tries desperately to make his way through the halls of the hospital but every time he thinks he’s found the correct room it ends up being off a number. It feels like a maze at this point, one that he can’t escape. He’s getting more anxious by the second because of how he can’t find the room you’re in, he’s practically fidgeting with the buttons on his phone as he walks.

Just as he passes some rooms he starts to feel a headache coming in but he pays no mind to it only wanting to be by your side. But it starts to get excessive to the point he has to stop and hold his head. He’s stopped in front of an occupied room as he scrunches his face up in discomfort, but he’s suddenly bumped into as he opens his eyes. The person who bumped into him was a doctor who was just about to rush into the room in front of him, he apologizes just as he notices a few doctors running into the room, the long beep sound making its presence louder as he looks inside and notices a familiar face, it’s you. He runs into the room pushing the doctors away as tears fill his eyes, making it to your bed he kneels holding your hand as it becomes soaked in his tears. He's been told countless times to get out of the room by the doctors and one even manages to physically push him out as they lock the door, he's left crying and banging on the door begging them to open it for him. He's only then let in when the doctors have seemingly failed to bring you back. Passer bys can only hear the choked sobs coming from him as he starts to argue with the doctors to keep trying to bring you back.

Hiori Yo

The hospital room is quiet aside from the anchored beeping of the monitor that reads your EKG. He reeks of blood, not his but yours, it was all from putting pressure on your wound. This only happened because of an accidental misfire of a gun that was supposed to hit somebody else but the guy was intoxicated and wasn’t able to fire correctly and ended up shooting you instead. If only he had held a conversation with you for a minute or two more before parting ways then things would have had a different outcome. But it’s too late as now you’re tied up in white that hurts his brain as time goes on.

He’s holding your left hand as if pleading with your heart to not give up just yet, the smell of dried blood from his hands transferring to yours as he tries to stabilize his trembling hands with yours. He closes his eyes in an attempt to wake up from this dream he thinks he’s in but before he can open his eyes in disappointment a long-paced beep sound beats him to it, the hand he’s holding now starting to fall limp. He tries to fight back tears that threaten to spill from his cyan eyes but fails to do so as he presses the call button on the remote next to him alerting the nurse of your death. The next thing he knew the room was filled with doctors and nurses he didn't care to guess their specialties only softly begging them to bring you back as he was led out of the room by a nurse, she tells them that they'll do whatever it takes. But 20 minutes that seemed like hours to him have ended and then he's allowed back into the room as the doctors explain to him that they did everything they could, but before another could speak he asks them to leave you two to which the doctors silently leave the room without many words. He's then left there as he takes in your image for the last time before he says goodbye.

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divine-misfortune · 1 year ago

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"don't you dare fuckin' come, because if you do, i'll come, too." - MountainDew ♡♡

It was like being hidden under the draping arms of a willow tree the way Dew's hair fell over his shoulders. Safe and concealed from the world behind that pale curtain, it's where Mountain falls apart. Where he's allowed to drift aimlessly in a warm, vacant, state.

His thoughts are a million miles away. Concerns even further, Dew made sure of that - it was the main reason he had the earth ghoul folded up under him. The weight of the world was a heavy burden to shoulder, and it weighed him down like cement but Dew came along to give him permission to float with firm hands and an edged tone. Unraveled him from the bramble of his own mind with a patience that made it so easy to fall.

And Mountain was grateful.

Grateful for the way Dew pushed his knees up to his shoulders, how his eyes never seemed to stray, that he fucked into him hard enough to keep every worry buried under the mounds of cotton filling his skull.

He had to force his eyes to focus on the ghoul poised above him and even then the only thing he could seem to fix his gaze on was the kiss bruised red of his lips. Mountain reached for him, to be sure Dew, as ethereal as he was, was real. His thumb dragged over his lower lip and Dew wasted no time kissing the rough pad of his finger, earning a breathy giggle from him.

"Take me so good baby, got so wet and I haven't even touched your cock..."

Mountain lifted his head and whimpered at the sight of himself laying hard against his belly. Neglected, the tip was an angry shade of red as it leaked like a fucking faucet into the lines on his stomach. A mess it he couldn't make himself care about.

"You like dripping on daddy's cock?"

His breath hitched. Hand flying to clamp over his mouth before a shameful moan could spill out but with a particularly rough thrust, enough to jolt his entire body, Mountain couldn't muffle it. Perfectly wanton. Dew grinned.

"Know you do, can tell...Fuck, you get so messy, just like Rain does. He's so good for me, but you're my good boy, right?"

Mountain nodded as the color bloomed like roses in his cheeks.

"Say it."

"I-" His voice warbled. It's the first time Dew's told him to speak in hours, and Mountain was entirely content to be the docile pet Dew liked him to be. He could've easily forgotten he had a voice to begin with. His tongue was heavy and formed .the words clumsily. "I'm your good boy."

Dew groaned as he pressed back into the velvety warmth that was the earth ghoul. No matter how much prep, Mountain was always tight. Like his body just wanted to pull Dew in and keep him forever.

"Feed yourself to me."

He could feel the splotchy flush creeping deeper into his skin, claiming him in embarrassment, as he swirled two fingers through the small puddle of pre gathering in the crease of his hip. Hot and sticky. Dew's lips parted automatically to take his offering. Watching his fingers disappear in his mouth made him dizzy, but it was nothing compared to the feeling that washed over him at the first flick of that clever tongue. Mountain felt his cock practically jump, something flipping in his gut.

Dew let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl as he sucked each finger clean. He pressed forward, forcing those thick digits damn near down his own throat.

"Oh fuck-" The fire ghoul breathed as he pulled off with a little pop, leaving Mountain glistening with his spit. "You even taste good for me too, sweet like honey."

"Daddy," he whined too far under to feel the typical shame he might have on any other occasion. No room to be shy when Dew had put smoke where something as trivial as humiliation once was. "Harder, harder, I can feel it I'm-"

Nails pressed into the back of his thighs. Dew's sweet smile turned cold, stern. It made him feel small.

"Don't you dare fucking cum," he punctuated his sentence, his warning, his command, with a thrust that hit home. The head of his cock bumped and dragged against that sweet spot that made Mountain's jaw go slack and his eyes roll back. It didn't help him stay away from the edge whatsoever. "Because if you do, I'll cum too, and I'm not fucking done with you. Still smart enough to remember your own name, daddy hasn't fucked you stupid yet."

#i need subby mountain so bad all the time u dont get it #void writing #writing #spicy tag #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #sodo ghoul #the band ghost #ghost the band #nameless ghouls #answered

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mermaidgirl30 · 9 months ago

Text

✨Crimson Tango: A Dance of Diamonds and Revenge Chapter 2 - It Always Ends Badly✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: Me and @mountainsandmayhem are having so much fun writing this Moulin Rouge au! We hope you enjoy chapter two ☺️ Comments and reblogs are always appreciated ❤️

Word Count: 5.7k

Pairings: Joel x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Chapter Summary: Joel and reader finally meet. Things get a little heated till reader’s uncle interrupts. Plans take a turn for the worst when your uncle introduces you to Terrance, the man you absolutely loathe.

Chapter Tags: Flirting, feelings, fluff and thoughts of smut, angst, longing, grief

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

In the bright lights of your room, you notice things about the handsome stranger that you couldn’t quite see while you were up on stage. Like his eyes… They aren’t just dark brown. No. They’re lighter than you expected, almost the color of honey and copper mixed together. Light flecks of warmth reflecting off them. It almost reminds you of sunlight. Beautiful, warm. And just for a second you swear you can see home in those bright brown eyes that call to you. And his face is so beautiful. So smooth, tan, angelic.

“I - I’m sorry,” Joel stutters, using every ounce of self preservation he has to tear his eyes away from you.

You turn your back to him to put the dressing gown on properly, tying the satin pink sash in a bow to make sure the gown doesn’t slip off. The spike of adrenaline from performing always seems to cloud your mind and you must have forgotten to lock your door again. You glance over your shoulder to see Joel's wide brown eyes looking at your guitar and pottery wheel. “It’s okay, I should have locked the door,” you reply shyly.

You spin back around to face him, and in the sensual lighting of your bachelor style living quarters he might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. You wonder how old he is and if he’s married. You find yourself hoping he’s not. A married woman wouldn’t let her husband work in a place like this.

“Perhaps I should come back another time,” Joel says hesitantly.

“No, no please. Stay.” Your heart thunders in your chest, you’re sure he sees you as others around town do, a whore. That title has never bothered you before, let them think what they want to think, you know what you are. You are the Sparkling Diamond. The one that all men want, but can never have. You’re their fantasy, and unbeknownst to them you’re an untouchable fantasy. But Joel’s opinion feels like it should matter, you can’t explain why, but you want him to know that you aren’t like the other girls that work here.

“Alright,” he murmurs out, tugging at the collar around his shirt that is starting to feel too tight. “I just need to fix that dripping faucet for you and replace that light and umm, then I’ll be out of your way, ma’am.”

You say your name and his right cheek lifts slightly as he repeats it back to you. It’s never sounded sweeter coming out of someone’s lips. He glances quickly at your guitar and pottery wheel again before walking further into your room to inspect the sink.

“You’re Mr. Miller, right?” You had heard some of the women talking about the handsome new handyman your uncle had hired earlier.

“Yes, just Joel will do, ma’am.” His heart is hammering in his chest, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear it across the room. He opens the cabinets under your sink and sees a pipe with a steady drip running down to the floor.

You repeat your name again with a laugh.

“Sorry, that’s not how I was raised, darlin’.”

Darlin’. The nickname gives you butterflies low in your stomach and warmth floods your body. You feel your cheeks flush as Joel glances over you slowly.

His breath gets caught in his throat with how beautiful you look with a slight pink blush lighting your cheeks. His mind flashes to you on top of him, that blush spreading down your neck and chest slowly. Soft breasts in his palms as you bob up and down on his cock.

“Darling,” you repeat back dreamily, “you could just call me that if you like. I like it,” you blush crimson as you flutter your long eyelashes at him.

Joel is thankful his face is now hidden under the sink, the big grin across his face would definitely give him away. You watch his strong arms flexing as he tugs and pulls on the hardware under your sink. Watch the way his bulging biceps cling to the flannel every time he reaches and flexes his muscles. The sight alone makes you gulp with desire.

“Okay, if that’s the case then,” he raises his head to lock eyes with you, “can you please turn the water on, darlin’? Let’s see if I’ve fixed this.”

You pad over to the sink in your barefeet, toes painted the same red as your fingernails. You lean over Joel's outstretched body to turn the water on. Everything happens all at once; first, the water sputters and then shoots out of the faucet with much more pressure than usual, then the pipe underneath pours down on Joel. Before you can even comprehend what’s happened, Joel has you scooped up in his arm, while the other reaches to turn off the tap. He’s completely soaked now and when the two of you lock eyes you both start laughing. Neither of you can really remember when you’ve laughed like this. Warm, genuine laughter as he walks you away from the wet floor of your kitchen area.

“Shit,” you laugh, ‘I’m sorry! You’re soaked.”

Joel places your feet gently on the ground at the foot of your bed. “I think we need to replace that.”

You stumble slightly when he puts you down, like a few minutes of his touch has already made you weak and boneless. He grabs the hem of his shirt and lifts it up to wipe his face. You should look away, but instead you let your eyes wander down to the exposed skin of his abdomen, your bottom lip sliding in between your teeth. His flat abdomen has a little trail of hair that leads to the one spot you haven’t been able to stop thinking about since you saw him. Between that and the v shaped divots of his hip bones, you’re mesmerized. You want him, need him. Badly.

His brown eyes lock with yours as he lowers his shirt slowly, keeping his eyes intently focused on you. Your breaths come out shallow, causing your breasts to rise and fall rapidly. His eyes dart to your parted lips as you step closer to him. His warmth and mahogany smell wraps around you, enveloping you in a thick fog. He’s taller than you, much taller. You have to crane your neck up to look at him. One of his hands grazes against yours and you suck in a nervous breath as you feel electricity run through your connected skin. His fingers are soft and warm, but also rough and scalding all at the same time. The hands of a hardworking man.

“Darlin’?” He says in a cracked whisper.

“Y-yeah?” you coo, fingers reaching for his, your pointer finger linking gently with his pinky.

Joel hears Edward’s voice, don’t touch my girls. But his hands seem to have developed a mind of their own as he finishes intertwining your fingers with one hand, the other tracing a gentle line up your arm towards your shoulder.

“You have to stop looking at me like that…” he says, pushing your soft curls off your shoulder, brushing your exposed collarbone, his delicate touch causing your clit to throb. He’s so handsome, so… gentle. Soft.

You hold in a moan, his strong, thick fingers feeling like heaven on your skin. “Like what?” you ask quietly, locking your fingers with his as calloused fingers drag along yours smoothly. It’s like fire burning your skin. Warm, tempting, smoldering, life ending.

He steps closer, so close that if you could take a full breath your barely covered breasts would graze against his body. Your nipples are hard and sensitive against the silkiness of your dressing gown, begging to be released from the material.

“Like you want me to kiss you, baby girl.”

Baby girl, fuck.

His gentle touch continues up your neck and you can’t hold it in anymore, a moan slips from your lips as you lean into his touch. His eyes haven’t left yours, and they darken as he watches your body responding to his fingers. He traces your jaw line, stopping below your chin and lowering his face to yours. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

A breathy ‘yes’ starts to come past your lips when a loud knock on your door has you both jumping apart like you had touched a live wire. Joel rushes into your kitchen, grabbing a towel to clean the puddle of water on the floor quickly. You tighten your dressing gown and head to the door, opening it just a crack.

“Hi, petal,” your uncle says, “just checking on the sink situation. Did Joel stop by?”

You open the door the rest of the way and gesture for him to come in.

“Sorry, sir,” Joel says from his crouched position on the floor. “I think we’re gonna need to replace it. The one pipe is stripped and you can’t get a good seal without the threads.”

You smile at Joel from behind your uncle. He appears to be rambling. Nervous rambling.

“Do what you need to do, Joel. This is the room of our most prized possession. If she wants it, she gets it.”

If she wants it, she gets it. The words run through Joel’s head over and over again like a broken record on repeat. Like how you were practically begging him to kiss you seconds ago. Those smooth, glossy lips tempting him to dark places he shouldn’t go. He shouldn’t, he knows better. But he’s beginning to realise he has no sense of self preservation when it comes to you.

Joel notices the way your eyes glaze over with sadness when Edward calls you a possession and that’s when he feels it again. The connection, the tight string that pulls him to you. He can tell that you hate that, that you want to be seen for you and not just the fantasy you put out there for those sick men.

He can’t say no to you, he’ll never say no to you. To hell with the rules, he’d already broken them the moment he saw you. He wants to know you, he wants to play guitar with you and maybe you can teach him how to use that pottery wheel. He’s truly, royally fucked. Ruined. But so be it. As long as he could have you, he didn’t care about the consequences because all he wanted was you. His Sparkling Diamond.

“Petal, come to my office when he’s done here, please?”

You nod and smile sweetly, “Of course.”

After he leaves, Joel sighs and leans against your porcelain counter, crossing his strong arms across his chest, his soft chocolate eyes staring back at you. His eyebrows knit together and you can see him grinding his teeth together while his jaw clenches into a tight fist.

“Sorry.” It comes out of your mouth instinctively. You don’t know what you’re sorry for but it’s certainly not for almost kissing him.

“No, I want to, darlin’. I really want to. It’s just…” he walks towards you slowly, almost hesitating before he reaches for you. He’s known you all of twenty minutes and he already can’t stand being in the same room with you and not touching you. As his hands come up to lightly cup the back of your head he continues, “It’s just that doing that will get me fired.”

“Didn’t you hear him? If I want it, I can have it.”

You let your hand roam over his chest, and he can’t help but melt at your touch. “Fuck, baby girl. You’re so…I’m just…”

“Are you feeling flustered, Mr. Miller?”

“Very,” he says before crashing his lips into yours.

His lips are soft and fit perfectly against yours as they nip at your bottom lip and devour you nice and slow. You run a hand through his soft tousled curls and hear him groan against your mouth. He likes that, likes your fingers wrapped around his hair.

He slides his arms around your waist and pulls you tight against his broad chest, making your head spin with want and need. You can smell every inch of him, feel the mahogany and woodsy scent seep into every crevice of your skin. It’s intoxicating, electrifying. You want him, you need him, crave him like you’ve never craved anything else in your entire life. It’s him, it’s only him.

It takes everything inside you to break the kiss, and both of you whine out when you part. Joel fights the urge to readjust himself, he doesn’t want you thinking he’s like every other guy in here. He’s not looking for a quick fuck, he never wants to do anything quick with you.

“Fuck,” you say breathily, “I have to go. I don’t want to go, but he’ll come back.”

“It’s okay, I’ll be back tomorrow.” His thumbs graze the sides of your waist affectionately as he pulls back.

“Can I see you again?” Joel didn’t realise the elation that could come from those five little words. You step into him, resting your cheek against his chest, hands roaming his broad back. “Please?” you almost beg.

Joel groans at your touch, “Nothing would make me happier, darlin’.”

Before he steps out of your reach, you look to your acoustic guitar and back up into his warm brown eyes. “I saw you looking at my guitar earlier. Do you play?” you ask with your eyes focused on him intently.

“Mhm. Been playin’ a long time,” he replies and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, making you want to melt into his touch forever. “And you? I’m guessin’ you also play?” he asks with the cock of his thick eyebrow.

“Yeah, a little. I kinda taught myself as a child,” you say shyly.

A low whistle escapes his lips. “Taught yourself, yeah? Smart girl.” A smirk curls against his lips and it nearly knocks the breath from your body. “I could give you lessons, you know. If you’d want, that is.”

You don’t hesitate at all before you squeak out. “Please! I’d love nothing more,” you almost shout with a huge grin on your matted red lips.

“Perfect. It’s a date then…” he says as he slides his hand through his tousled curls nervously, making his brown flecks of color pop with his shy smile. You nearly explode at the thought of his strong arms around yours, his calloused hands guiding you along the strings as his smooth lips trace your neck line, whispering praises to you each time you learn something new.

Good girl. Doin’ so good for me, baby girl. Learnin’ so fast. Such a good girl… The thoughts nearly take you down to the floor.

“Well, guess I should let you get to Edward,” he sighs, already starting to move his arms from your waist. The feeling of him leaving makes you feel empty, hollow. A lost void in the darkness. You don’t want him to go…

After managing to pull yourselves out of each other's arms, Joel slips out of your room slowly, sending you a flirtatious wink and a small smile before closing the door gently. When you peel your eyes off the now closed door, you throw on a pair of pink lacy panties and a wrap around dress before heading out to your uncle's office.

When you open your door, you enter back into the chaos and madness of it all. You forgot that all of this was happening all around you when you were alone with Joel, almost like being locked in his eyes turned off the whole word. The burlesque is still hustling and bustling with men, dancers swarming them on the dance floor as they grab and take what they want from the women. You decide right then and there that you are done with this place and then roll your eyes bitterly as you make your way down the grand staircase, then down to the wooden floor, clicking your heels across the wood as you saunter your way to your uncle’s office.

You can feel the eyes roaming over your body, hear the cat calls the men make as they whistle and call your name. You tune them out, pretend you don’t hear the barbaric things they yell at you.

What could your uncle possibly want to talk about that couldn’t wait till tomorrow? Was he letting you come up with a new routine, maybe let you coach some more of the children on how to do kicks and twirls and little dance numbers? You liked the children, loved seeing their faces light up when you showed them a dance move or two. Maybe that’s what this was about. You hoped it was.

When you cross the dim lit hallway with red wallpaper and dark wooden floors, you turn the golden doorknob into your uncle’s spacious office. “Hi, uncle! You wanted to see me?” you ask brightly. As you turn you stop in your tracks, the door shutting quietly behind you. There’s a strange man standing almost menacingly near your uncle.

“Oh, uhh. Who’s this?” you ask cautiously, taking in the tall stranger that stands at the corner of your uncle’s long, wooden desk.

“Oh, petal. So happy you made it. This is Terrance. Terrance, this is our Sparkling Diamond.” Your uncle says your name to Terrance and he smirks at the mention of it.

Something about him makes your skin crawl. You can’t place what it is, but your gut and intuition are telling you to be afraid of this man and to run. Bile rises in your throat from questions that swirl violently in your brain.

Why was Terrance in here alone with your uncle? And why were you being introduced to him? Something wasn’t right. Something was off, very off.

Maybe when you’re 18, you can join them. No, that wouldn’t be it, he promised you that you would just be a dancer.

You blink away your thoughts and take in his appearance. He stands maybe six feet high, he’s built but somehow frail at the same time. When he takes his black top hat off and nods his head at you, you see the thinning hair that sits atop his head. It’s ash blonde with grey streaks running through every other strand. And his mustache is almost slimy looking, wet and slicked over with a grease like gel to hold it in place. You find yourself comparing it to Joel’s soft, trimmed beard and mustache. It’s nothing like this man’s. This man is… unkempt.

You take in his wrinkles, see the way his leathery skin pulls at the evil smirk that encases his chapped lips. This man is much older than you. Much, much older. Maybe the same age as your uncle or even older. You can’t tell, but he was way too old to be after a girl like you.

“So good to finally get to meet you, m’lady.” He takes your hand and brings his lips over your knuckles, planting a wet, sloppy kiss on your skin that makes you cringe. When you drop your hand back down, you run it over the back of your dress as you wipe the drool off your hand.

My lady? Just who did this guy think he was?

“Are you here to meet some of the dancers?” you ask him cautiously as you watch his grey eyes turn cold, calculating, and vindictive, but most importantly lust filled.

You watch his eyes scrape over you like sharp glass tearing through your skin, see the way he looks at you like a fresh piece of meat. He hones you like a hawk, piercing eyes scanning every inch of your body. You feel as if he sees right through the thin dress as he undresses you with his glazed over eyes. You cross your arms over your body and wrap the dress tighter around you, pretending as if that’ll make you feel slightly less exposed. It doesn’t help, not one bit.

“Not exactly,” he says, the vowels getting caught in between his teeth as he draws it out, words hooking on his annoyingly proper accent.

“Ummm, about that,” your uncle says nervously. He wipes at a bead of sweat on his forehead as his green eyes become big and wide before he says his next words. “He’s here for you.”

Your blood runs cold, veins constricting as you feel ice run down your bloodstream. You repeat the words in your head, almost positive you misheard him. He’s here for you. Here for you. But you hadn’t misheard. You heard him just right.

Maybe when you’re eighteen, you can join them.

“For me?” you whisper out, wide eyes looking over at Terrance as he runs his rough tongue along his bottom lip seductively, grey eyes hounding your body as he nearly combusts from his desire for you.

You see the way he looks at you, like a dog would a fresh bone. You see the way his fingers dig into his top hat as he stares at your breasts as they sit halfway exposed from the dress. There’s nothing but lust and desire in his eyes. Nothing but the mere inkling to rip your dress off and expose every inch of your body for him to indulge in. He doesn’t look at your eyes, or face, doesn’t even seem to care that tears are burning in the back of your eyes as he manages to violate you without even touching you.

Your uncle is selling you to him…

You hold your head high and bite your cheek before you say something hasty. You tear your watering eyes off Terrance, not able to look into the lust filled pits of his eyes anymore. Joel… Joel would never look at you like that, would never make you feel as small and feeble as Terrance just did. Joel looked at you with passion, need, like you were the only girl in the entire world. And that’s all you could think of now was him. Joel… the one you wanted.

“That’s right. For you,” Terrance smirks out the words as you stare distraughtly at him.

Your uncle looks between the two of you, the lines of his forehead wrinkling into worry lines. He looks nervous, sad even. And you know then this had to be a sick joke. He couldn’t be serious. He wouldn’t.

“Terrance, can you wait outside for us at the bar? Maybe go grab yourself a scotch? Need to speak to my little petal here,” your uncle says. Terrance nods and moves toward the door, sliding up behind you as you feel his hand brush up against the back of your dress, dangerously close to your ass. You suck in a breath and let him pass through the door, waiting a few seconds till you can’t hear his light footsteps down the hall anymore. Then you attack.

“What do you mean he’s here for me?” Your voice is raised, anger biting back as you snarl down at your uncle sitting calmly in his leather office chair.

“He’s…. uhhh he’s….” he stutters, nervous drips of sweat falling from his forehead as he takes a hand towel and dabs at his drenched skin.

“Just tell me!” you demand, almost screaming at him as your red polished fingers slam on top of his desk with a jolt, making a stack of thick papers fly down to the floor.

He sighs and nods before telling you. “He paid me money to have you…” he whispers out defeatedly.

“You sold me? To him?!” you yell loudly as your face floods with hot heat, anger and broken trust filling your insides like hot lava.

“Petal, I can explain,” he pleads as he holds his hands out, begging you to let him speak.

“Don’t!” you cry out, pointing your index finger in his direction as you see the shiny red polish shimmer back your way. “Don’t you dare call me that!”

Silence fills the air and you have to swallow the sob that creeps up your throat. Your hand falls to your side, “You lied to me,” you say quietly, hurt seeping through you as you feel your heart shattering. He was the one person you always counted on to be honest with you.

“Sweetheart, I didn’t lie,” he says defensively.

His defensive tone comes out cockily and you feel the anger bubble back to the surface, “You lied to me the day you started making me entertain those men! The day you made me sit on their laps as they looked at me like I was just a wet hole for them to fill.”

Your uncle cringes but you aren’t done, “You lied to me the moment you promised I’d never have to be fucked by any of those men! And now look. You fucking sold me to an older man, who spent the whole time looking at me like I wasn’t even a fucking person! Like he just wants to use me till I’m no more, until I’m nothing!” The words get caught on a choked cry as you feel a wet tear slide down your cheek. You swear with how quietly still the room is that you hear it splash on the floor.

Your uncle just looks at you with sad, distant eyes. Eyes that say they’re sorry all on their own. It makes you burn hotter, the betrayal cutting a clear knife down your back. You trusted him. You fucking trusted him. And look what he did. Sold you out to get fucking paid. Pathetic.

You turn toward the dark door and reach for the gold handle, but he stops you before you can twist it open. “Please, wait. Let me explain,” he begs as he stands from his chair, nearly knocking over the large picture of the Eiffel Tower off the back of the red walls.

You drop your hand from the door and walk back over to his desk, crossing your arms tightly over you as you wait to see what good excuse he gives you. “So, tell me. Go on. Tell me why you did this to me. I’m waiting,” you say coldly, eyes burning into his as he gulps and runs a hand through his sandy overgrown hair.

“I got a visit from some government people today. They don’t like what we’re doing here, petal. They threatened to shut us down. They found out it was more than a bar. Found out exactly what goes on here every night, and they don’t like it. Not one bit.”

He takes a large gulp of his brandy drink and shakes his head as he continues. “They’re making us pay double the property tax now. Says they’ll let us stay open if we keep that agreement. But do you realize how much money that is every year? And then Terrance walked in. I offered him any other girl, multiple girls if he wanted. I tried introducing him to other dancers, but the only one he wanted was you. I saw no other way, sweet pea. I was desperate.”

You take a step back and peel your eyes to the floor, your eyebrows knitting together as you take in his words. Your eyes grow wide at the information he just told you, but you can’t say anything. You’re too shocked from everything he just said, the words hitting every single nerve ending in your body like a freight train crashing right into you.

“They wanted to shut down the Moulin Rouge…” you barely whisper, your voice coming out as quiet as a helpless mouse.

“That’s right, petal. I had to strike a deal or they would’ve shut us completely down tonight. We would’ve ended up on the streets. All the women and children of this place; unsheltered and without work or food. Can you imagine?”

“No… I can’t imagine that…'' you say starstruck, your mind in a thick cloud of haze as you slowly face him again. His face is so sad, so drenched with apologies as he looks right at you with eyes that scream to you to forgive him. And you can’t say no, you can’t deny him that. Not even if what he did was cruel and selfish. But it wasn’t really that selfish because he was saving the Moulin Rouge. He was saving everyone that lived here, even you…

He comes around the desk and steps in front of you, taking one of your hands in his as he looks at you with sincere eyes. “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you on purpose, right?”

You stare at the floor and purse your lips, deep in thought as you gulp down tears and meet his eyes again cautiously. You nod your head slowly as you continue to listen to him.

“I love you like my own daughter. And I promise you, if this incident didn’t happen today then I never would’ve taken him up on his offer. I never would’ve sold you like that, but I was desperate. I saw it as the only way out of this deep hole I got myself into. And I’m so sorry, so very sorry…”

You drag your tongue over your pristine teeth and look at him with hurt eyes, but you understand why he did it. He was desperate, only trying to save the ones he cared about. But that dark, nagging thought at the back of your head continues to scream at you, trying to tell you that he would do it anyway. If it was a large sum of money, would he still have sold you out? Without the government getting involved? You’d never know…

“How much?” you ask thickly.

“How much what?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows.

“How much did he offer you for me?” you ask coldly, choking back tears as you stare up at him with hurt written all over your face.

“$300,000…”

Oh.

Your eyes go wide at the large sum of money. $300,000? Holy shit…

“That’s a… wow. That’s a lot,” you gasp in shock.

“It is. It’s enough to save us, petal. Enough to keep it all going,” he smiles, eyes turning a bit brighter as he says it.

“How long am I supposed to entertain him or be with him or… whatever this is,” you ask in disgust, not wanting to think about his sloppy hands and greasy moustache on your clean skin.

“It’s not forever, petal. He’s much older than you. Maybe a few years with him, if that.”

“A few years?!” you shriek in surprise. “But he… but I don’t…” The words leave your mouth in choppy stutters. Your throat feels dry and constricted, and you can’t find the strength to finish your sentence.

“I know, petal. I know. Again, I’m so sorry. I know he isn’t your first choice. But he’s got a lot of money. He can take care of you. Maybe in ways I never could…” he says sadly, eyes dropping to the ground. He means he couldn’t save you from your impending doom. He couldn’t save you from the grimy hands of Terrance, the man that came and wrecked your life like a ship caught in a raging storm. But he’s the one that sold you… your uncle. The man you used to see as your hero.

“I don’t want him to take care of me. I get along just well on my own,” you say proudly with your chin raised high, trying your best to sound brave when your entire world is getting flipped upside down like a coiled up ball of yarn, no way of untangling your way out.

He sighs and shakes his head sadly. “I’m sorry, petal. I did what I could. Why don’t you just go back to your room and take a nice long bath. Don’t worry about Terrance tonight. You can see him tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow night. That meant he’d expect to sleep with you, show you off like his prized possession amongst all his rich friends. You feel a wave of nausea roll over your stomach, feel the backs of your eyes sting with fresh tears waiting to fall like raindrops down your face, feel the pure need to run to Joel, have him wrap you in his strong arms where it’s warm and safe. Where you belong. Where your heart burns.

You don’t turn back around to say goodnight to your uncle, you just place your hand on the cold metal knob and twist, stepping back into the loud hallway as men chant and girls twirl and dance for the men vulgarly. You walk past them lifelessly, holding in your tears till you reach the staircase, making yourself walk faster as the anxiety starts to crush you.

You grip the cold railing of the staircase and climb up each step with the weight of the world on your chest. It’s hard to breathe, hard to filter in fresh air when you feel as if you’re stuck underground with no escape in sight, suffocating on dirt and the stench of Terrance, weighing yourself down as you remember him carving his cold eyes over your body like a hyena ready to make you his dinner.

As soon as you enter the dark hallway, you turn the opposite way of your room. Your body almost having a mind of its own as you head to the dance studio. This room where you teach the children, a place of innocence and laughter. You close the door behind you, slide down the back of the door and end up on the floor as you curl your head into your knees, feeling the wet tears hit the pink material of your dress. You choke out tears knowing what you’ll have to do tomorrow, grab your silky hair between your polished fingers as you think of his dirty paws all over you.

It’s not forever. You can fake it. You can do this.

But you aren’t sure you can because every time you even think of Terrance your mind goes to Joel. Joel, Joel, Joel. He’s the one you want, the one you need. And you want him so badly that even thinking about him hurts.

Joel. He can’t find out. Not yet. What would you tell him? What would he do? You’d have to keep it to yourself. At least for a few days. Yes, just a few days. You could do that… right?

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jaketsparrow · 8 months ago

Text

TENDING Part 6.1

Tending Part 6.1!

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Josh Kiszka x f! Reader

Word Count: 6.3K

A/N: Welp it’s been months since I’ve updated this bad boy and I do apologize profusely. I finally feel like I’ve had my creative spark back :) I hope you can all forgive me that its 1. Late 2. Only half of a part. This is going to be a backstory chapter with some drama mixed in! The next chapter will most likely be the last… Also, I PROMISE I will be better updating from now on!

MINORS DNI

MENTIONS OF/ TW: Angst, mentions of vomit, swearing, lots of emotional/break up/ manipulation talks, lots and lots of drama and yelling, unfortunately, no smut this time around friends, please forgive me :)

Masterpost

The echoes of the rowdy women finally start to calm down. No more ‘how's my makeup?’, ‘that band was so good’, ‘Let’s get an Uber’. Just the silence of the empty bathroom, except for a steady drip-drop from the faucet. The bar outside was still rambunctious and full of life, but here in this one grimy stall, you were lucky to have a few moments of peace.

It was one of those ‘worn-in’ bathrooms. Drawings everywhere, phone numbers plastered across the stall doors, posters from previous events hanging askew to the sides of you. You couldn’t really tell if any of the surfaces around you were ‘clean’, but at this point, you didn’t care enough to think of the germs collecting.

You had your back against the cool textured wall, trying to collect yourself, finding sensations other than anxiety to focus on. You try to gather your surroundings, grounding yourself by running your hands over the words and numbers on either side of you.

Reality starts to set back in after the panic lowers. You can feel your body temperature dropping, the adrenaline and booze wearing off. Your eyes had finally stopped tearing up and for a brief moment, you had enough strength to asses.

What the actual fuck was going on?

Why did you feel so torn up about this man? When at every turn he just disappoints you.

Every chance you’ve given Jake has proven that maybe he wasn’t a person you could fix. You loved a good fixer-upper and you couldn’t stay away. Coming from a broken past yourself made it easy to want to try and help others, to coax others into feeling better, doing better. It was a habit you tried to break often, but always cycled back around.

Jake wasn’t the right person to give everything to. Every negative thought of him swirled around you, consuming you. The entire Mariella situation came flooding back to you. You fall weak for him every time, your rage turning into the most fucked up but beautiful apologies of lovemaking. Although you can’t romanticize sex with him, it’s quite honestly been pure lust. Craving each other, needing each other’s skin despite everything else falling apart.

You want him to tell you that you’re his girl… That you’re his good girl. You want to hear those words whispering in your ear, quivering at his slow breaths against your skin. It would make everything better because it just would. His praise is worth a thousand apologies. Wrapping yourself around him and staring deep into his big brown eyes was enough to make you forget everything. Feeling him reach your very limits, pulling you as close to him as you can get…

No.

But, you can’t let yourself be persuaded into a relationship of toxicity for the perfect fuck.

Well…

You haven’t even considered that there was also the good Jake. Not just the good-in-bed Jake, but the Jake that let you dance with him, despite denying that he could. The soft chuckle that he let escape his lips as you paraded yourselves around his living room. The music that filled the room slowly felt like it had slipped away the longer you noticed your connection growing. It was hard to even remember what was playing because all you could remember was his soft brown eyes looking back at you.

There was the Jake that did fight for you, multiple times. He stood his ground to a woman who was trying to do everything in her power to keep you two apart. He showed you his most private comfort place, where you both bared your souls to the nature around you. The most intimate and freeing apology of all. There was the version of Jake who quit his job so you could still work…

God. He was the epitome of an anti-hero.

The tears returned, streaming in small bursts down your face, never stopping. Your head started to collapse below you, trying to keep the tears from melting away the makeup you spent hours preparing for him. Each drop fell below you, although you could hardly see any of it through your clouded eyes.

If you weren’t going to end up with this man, he would be for sure the one that got away. He would constantly be on your mind. Ruining you. Climbing through every future memory of intimacy. Asking you ‘Is he better than me sunshine?’ and ‘I bet he can’t make you shake like I can’. Jake would swarm every thought, every decision, every lover.

This night caused more confusing thoughts to enter the mix. Although he showed such kindness to you, it was always in a backward way.

How could you deal long-term with someone so jealous? Someone who is jealous of you for forming a friendship with his own brother? How could you continue with someone who wasn’t even sure if he wanted to continue with you? Granted that time has passed, but will that thought always be in the back of his mind?

From this point on it felt less like a decision you had to make and more of a decision for him. But he had always picked you, between Mariella, between the job, he always chose you…

Slam!

“Oh shit.” A male voice echoes into the bathroom, “Is it clear in here?”

The house was completely dark when you pulled into the driveway. It was the first time Jake even let you drive in his presence; although he had no choice considering the state he was in when you left the bar. He probably could’ve handled the road fine but it was easier for you to get behind the wheel.

You park the car where he would usually leave his, and sit awkwardly in silence for a moment; gripping onto the steering wheel. Sweat steaming between the leather grips and your palms.

Your heart is pounding. This is a deciding moment, you weren’t sure where the conversation would lead you. You remember your first night together, back at the bar, feeling that same heartbeat flutter. Only this time the feelings you had were not full of new beginnings, but rather worrying about an ending.

He hadn’t spoken a word since you put him in the passenger seat. He made no admirations to the cute knickknacks you had collected in your car. It was a very tidy car, but over the years you tried to put more of yourself in the car; this thing is yours until you run it in the ground, so why not? Cute little celestial strings hung from the rearview mirror, little statued women sat near your speedometer, just little pieces of you sprinkled in this steel box. You were especially hurt that he didn’t immediately perk up at the CD cases tucked between his seat and the center console; he wasn’t even interested in seeing if you had ‘good music taste’.

This was awkward, but you had to get out of that bar. There was no way you were going to be able to discuss anything productively with his two brothers and best friend listening in on every word and possibly amplifying the situation further. You had learned your lesson finally.

“Jake,” You attempt to prod him in a calm and gentle voice, hesitant with your tone. Remaining neutral.

He doesn’t respond. He starts to fiddle with his belt, holding his head down in a pouting position. His thumbs run past the buckle, swirling in patterns over the metal. He can’t even look at you. It’s the same avoidance all over again. He’s like a child in that respect, he can’t even come to sit at the table for real adult conversations.

You turn to face him, lifting your leg slightly on the seat, trying to still seem casual and not at all upset, “Jake. I brought you home because we need to keep talking.”

The silence in the air lingers a bit longer through the tension. You two are both separated from each other entirely. Not only because of this difficult discussion, but because there was literally a part of the car separating you two.

“I just don’t know what to say to you,” He stops fidgeting and cranes his neck back into the headrest. He’s halfway to a tantrum. You’re pushing him to be vulnerable; that would be a risky move. “Where do I even start?”

“How about you start by telling me the whole story Jake.”

You jump up, scared of hearing the voice of the opposite sex join you in your echo chamber. “Hello?” You call out, trying not to sound as frightened as you feel.

“Darling! You didn’t leave!” The voice sounds more familiar now.

“Josh?”

You unlock the stall door and peek out to see his familiar curls. He looks concerned, unsure of what he’s even doing in the women’s bathroom.

“Is he in here too?” You ask, scared to fully emerge.

“No, he won’t move. Stubborn fucker.”

Once you know it’s safe, you step out of the stall, holding yourself in a slump. You look over to the mirrors to see that your makeup is far past ruined; you’re practically ready to audition for clown college. You reach your hands up and awkwardly paw at your face, trying to hide the tears from Josh. The makeup runs across the pads of your fingers, the tears barely helping to wash away the mascara.

“Oh, oh, don’t worry about that.” Josh saunters over to you, arms spread wide ready to envelop you in a hug. He braces you and reaches himself around your shoulders. You rest your head into the crook of his neck, trying to sniffle away the tears.

“J-Josh,” You say through muffled choking breaths.

He rubs his hand across your back, “Shh, don’t say anything to me. I need to apologize to you. I’m sorry I did that to you, it wasn’t right of me to be the one to say something like that,” He unfortunately releases the hug, but traces his hands down your arms to catch your hands, holding them firmly in his. He takes a deep breath for a moment, lowering his head in shame. “He just was being a complete dick!”

You laugh at his honesty. Jake was being a complete fuck. His attitude always rose within a matter of seconds. You couldn’t understand where it all came from. It was like someone setting off a Molotov cocktail.

“No, no, please don’t apologize,” You whimper, pouting your lip out, trying to keep the tears at bay.

Josh squeezes your hands again, “I insist that you let me say that I’m sorry. I know how to get under his skin and that very moment was the wrong time to prod at him.”

Josh has this sincere look about him. Although minutes ago he couldn’t read the room, now he was, understanding the care that you needed at this moment. He had this healing, vibrant energy about him that would be impossible to be upset at.

“You really do know how to push his buttons,” You giggle softly, “He was totally out of line and being horrible… As he is known to be…”

Josh pouts back, mirroring your expression, “He was… And well is… But that didn’t mean I needed to say something that would hurt you too.” Josh lowers himself to meet you at your eyeline.

It's quite remarkable how similar the two look. Although, their energy is what truly makes them stand out as different individuals. They share many of the same features, those soft yet strong bones, and the perfect full lips, but… Something about their eyes makes them so different. Josh has a ray of sunshine behind his eyes, while Jake has the stars and moon behind his.

You drop your shoulders, “What did you mean by… You know… What you said Josh? I want to know if he even wants to keep doing… doing this whole thing.”

“Mama, are you kidding?” He pets your hair out of your eyes, “Just look at you, of course he does! Are you fucking joking?” Josh’s excited voice doesn’t dissuade your uncertain feelings.

“But you said-”

“Ah ah, you silly beautiful girl.” was this a compliment or him calling you stupid… “You didn’t listen to everything I said,” Josh taps the side of your head, “clearly a bit foggy up here from all that whiskey you just downed- a nice touch of drama by the way.”

You shake your head and smirk shyly. It was dramatic. It was far more confrontational than you had ever been before. He forced this side out of you, this primal, protective rage. You wanted more than ever to protect your sanity, your heart. Everything was hot, then cold, black, then white. There was no clear happy middle ground when it came to the two of you.

Josh continues, “I said he thought you didn’t want him anymore. He was trying to respect your wishes.” He lingers on that for a moment. The words settling in… Respect… what you wanted… “But you have to remember darling, he can be as dense as they come sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” You cut in with sarcasm.

“Yes, but shush. He needed that push to fight for what you have. Do you know how much he talked about you before we went on tonight? He wouldn’t shut up about how he was excited to have you in the crowd tonight and to go home with you, as his. Not something he had to try and win over, not someone he would have to fawn over from the other side of the bar-”

You cut Josh off, “He said all that?”

“We’ll I’m embellishing, I know he meant all of that. Anyway, my point is no matter what, he would’ve come back eventually- I know that for a fact. You’re quite special, I don't think he’s stupid enough to waste not being with you. He just needed his big brother to give him a swift kick in the ass to chase it all a bit sooner. If anything, I just moved the timeline along.”

You raise your hands to your brows, furrowing them in confusion, “But why all the back and forth? Why all the big messes that, if I may add, are never truly cleaned up by himself. Why does everyone else have to convince him to do the right thing?”

Josh moves his hands from yours and rubs the sides of your shoulders, “Mama I think he’s falling for you, he’s just so clueless and doesn’t know how to tell you. Men, am I right? ”

You reach up to grab his hands, “Josh, do you realize how annoying that is?” You chuckle at the thought, Jake does have quite the incompetence for love, “How annoying it is for two people who can work together to have all of these fucking nightmares? Nightmares that I may add could’ve been avoided. He’s been constantly trying to burn this bridge ever since we built it!”

“Of course, I know it’s a mess, but you have to understand the reason he is this way.”

“And why is he that way? I think he likes to make us all scramble around for him…”

You drop your hands, dramatically pacing about the bathroom now. Trying to make it all make sense. Everything is done so that Jake is in the right. Everything is cleaned up for Jake. He never has to think too much about anything because someone else will come along and give him an ultimatum or push him in the right direction. He never has to come be the one to apologize because someone else will come to clean up his messes; to give grand excuses for his behavior.

‘Oh, he didn’t know’ or ‘he’s so confused’.

You couldn’t be in a relationship with a man where you were constantly having to cater to him, to always be the forgiving one. A few weeks were draining enough to experience all of this, but how would months, even years feel?

Josh breaks the silence, “Well that’s because someone else did that to him.”

You stop pacing, thinking about what Josh could mean by that. Someone else? As in another girlfriend? You start to slowly walk back into the conversation.

“Why? Wait, what happened?”

The door rustles behind Josh. Danny pokes his head in, awkwardly smiling at the two of you. He puts his hand up in a shy wave. He’s bashful and not entirely thrilled to be interrupting.

“Not to rush,” He interjects, “But some of the girls out here are really not liking the idea of using the men’s room instead.”

“Too bad!” Josh shouts. He stops for a moment to think. Almost like a lightbulb went off over his head he goes, “Oh! Boy! Wow! She’s really thrown up everywhere! What a fucking mess!-”

“Josh!” You scold.

Josh turns back to you, whispering, “If you want the story, I have to buy some time… Oh, man! Do NOT come in here! This is fucking crazy!”

You realize Josh’s plan and play into it, making loud gagging noises to sell it further.

“Don’t! Blehhh Come in!” You yell.

“Oh wow! They’re going to need two mops for this mess!” Josh can’t help but giggle at his own statement.

“Josh!” You laugh with him this time, “Two?!”

Danny smiles at the improv, poking his head back outside. You can hear his muffled voice softly telling the women that you ‘just need some time to clean up’.

“Okay, go!” You push, “You can’t leave a cliffhanger like that! Mr. Stoic was in love? Mr. has no emotions?!”

“Well,” Josh sighs, “I wouldn’t call it real love…. But yes, Jake had a love, once. She was horrible, awful. We all hated her.”

“This sounds like a great start.” You interject, “It’s always the problematic woman huh? And the innocent manipulator?

Josh sighs, and grabs your hands into his, “Can ya let me tell my story before you start with all your comments?”

You squeeze Josh’s hands back, nodding, agreeing to behave.

“Oh good, because it’s a fabulous story, but I never get to tell it! My brother is awfully sensitive about her. ‘Don’t bring her up Josh’, ‘I’m fine as long as I forget about her’. Ugh. He just couldn’t let go of her. Quite an annoying person. She was always the first one to pick on Jake, more so than I do- which as you know, is saying something. She loved to point out all his flaws, and try to take away his autonomy in every sense. He fell victim to it, becoming a pet of hers. She’d say jump, he’d say how high…

She would show up to all his shifts at the last bar he worked at, and sit there and watch him… I don’t mean she would fawn over him the way you used to, but she would sit there, and judge every interaction, everything he did… The entire time. She was… to put it nicely… Psychotic.”

She sounds lovely, you think to yourself. Explains some of the behavior he’s displayed in the past few months. The need to be in control in the bedroom, the lack of emotional intelligence…

“She wanted to control Jake, and because he was young, stupid, and well, in love. And you know what that ass did? He let her. We started to protest it, tried to set up more gigs to get him out of the house, to introduce him to more people, show him he was better than her, and she found out.”

The reaction is swift and immediate, “Oh, he didn’t…”

“Oh yeah, that fucking idiot told her everything! There were no secrets between them! She made sure of that. Well, really I should say, he had no secrets when it came to her. That… She… I could count on two hands how many ‘friends’ she saw behind his back… She hated us for trying to break down the manipulations. So when she saw that he was pulling away from him, she started to catch on to him and where we were stealing him away. He broke one night and crushed all of our hard work. And from that point on, all she did was take him away from us, until…”

“... Until?” You poke.

An uncomfortable sigh pushes through Josh, “Until she made a move on me.”

“What?!” You exclaim.

“Yes, yes, quite dramatic. We were out one night all together, playing pool or darts or something. She had only let Jake go out with us if she was there to be his bitchy chaperone; we couldn’t be trusted to be alone with him anymore. Well later that night I’m driving the two of them home, Jake’s practically passed out in the passenger seat and she was screaming some stupid pop music in the back seat. I helped her into the house, leaving Jake to rest a little longer since he was out. I walked her into the living room and laid her on the couch. When she fell back, she latched onto me and practically sucked my face off while I struggled to get her alien mouth off of me.”

Josh mimics the entire scenario, creating his reenactment of sorts. Flailing his body about the linoleum floors. What a fucking character.

“Oh no…” The severity of this situation is climbing and climbing, and everything is starting to make sense.

Josh continues, “Little did either of us know, but Jake was not asleep in the car, just merely ‘resting his goddamn eyes’ and came through the front door to find her tongue halfway down my throat. They screamed, and he cried, then she cried, meanwhile, I scrubbed my mouth out in the kitchen sink… It was a whole ordeal.”

“But why did she even kiss you? Was it to get back at Jake for something? Just a fucking cheating addiction? Why would she do that to him?” There are so many questions to be answered, and your time in this ‘private’ bathroom was running out.

“She claims the whole twin thing and that she was too drunk to make out who was who, but darling… Can you believe that? I am much better looking than Jake, you’d think she’d know the difference.”

“Okay, Josh.” You roll your eyes.

“All in all, it was quite uncomfortable for me, but it was enough to push Jake to leave her once and for all. It took him ages to be able to talk to me about it, mostly because during their whole fight she had convinced him it was my idea. By some sort of good magic, he broke her spell and listened to reason… But through this whole ordeal, he lost a lot of the love he could give…

He just didn’t trust me or anyone anymore. He got paranoid all the time and would hate to be alone, but if I came to live with him he wanted me to leave after only a couple of days. I felt horrible for him.” Josh dropped his head, “He had wasted years being taken around like a show pony… All for it to end because she couldn’t resist me.”

“Oh my god Josh, you’re not helping yourself look any better here!” You joke at him, knocking your palm into his shoulder.

“Oh c’mon! You know what I mean.” He turns to face his complexion in the mirror, playing with the tussles of his curls, “Anyways, from that point on he became this mysterious shrouded man that none of us recognized. He started having more random girls follow him home from the bar, he started just being stupid.

And that lovely ex-girlfriend of his, well she never stopped showing up at the bar… She would come in and harass every girl who showed up at the bar, but never in a way that she would be caught. She would leave backhanded compliments, tell them that Jake would never go for them, blah blah. All bullshit so she could keep control of him. He pleaded with her to leave, to give him time to heal; but she wouldn’t.

The manager and security finally caught on to her, but by that point, it was too late. Jake was worried he would never move on as long as she knew where he was. So he had to move to a different bar, the one you worked at…”

Josh glances over at you to gauge your reaction. He looks suspicious like he’s hiding some of the truth.

“Okay… Feels like there's more to this story…” You follow Josh’s reflection and catch him half-wincing.

“There is. And you might not like it, but…” He turns back to face you.

“But…?” You Push

“...What did Jake tell you about Mariella?”

“Mariella?” A name you thought you wouldn’t have to deal with now. You had finally felt like you had the upper hand on that bitch, “Just that they had slept together once, right when he started… Right?”

Before you can even finish your sentence a craze starts to fill through you. Fuck. You can see the puzzle pieces connecting in your mind. Not a complete picture yet, but you know something is going to be said that will connect all the pieces.

What does she have to do with all of this?

“Well. That is correct. But did he tell you why he slept with her?”

“Josh… I don’t like where this is going.”

Your pulse starts to drop again. You had hoped you would hear nothing more of this story or this girl, mostly because you thought that had been resolved. You already had enough jealousy that had built up from that situation, and you can feel it burrowing through your sane mind again.

“I don’t think you entirely will, but it pertains to the story.” Josh sighs, “Now these are probably details he left out because of the whole other story… but Mariella was a friend of Jean, his ex.”

A complete feeling of bewilderment smacks you. The fuck? Friend? Is this a revenge story? A rebound? Did he…?

You don't have much time to think before Josh is spoon-feeding you the rest of the story.

“Jake knew that Mariella and Jean were friends. Now they weren’t best friends or anything like that, but he knew that if he slept with her, it would be enough to feel like he was even for Jean hitting on me or something- I don't know!

“That’s gross.” You can’t help but feel gross knowing Jake was that kind of guy.

“Well…Except, he couldn’t.”

You make a befuddled face, confused, “He couldn’t what? Like he decided it was bad? He had come to his senses?”

Josh grits his teeth, almost looking like he is unsure whether he should share these next details.

“He cried. He made it to her bedroom and cried. They were still dressed, he never even attempted anything. He brought her home, talked a big game, and then sat there and cried on the edge of her bed. He tried to get something going, but I think she had come to her senses by that point… He had put on this tough exterior for months, but he couldn’t be that guy. He didn’t want to admit that to anyone… And well Mariella had everything she needed to blackmail Jake.”

“Fuck.” You walk over to the sinks, leaning your lower back into the counter, “So he never even-”

“No mama. He didn’t.” Josh strolls over to lean next to you.

“Then why did he?-”

“Would you want to tell someone you're sleeping with that your first rebound you spend the entire night crying?”

“I guess not.”

Everything was starting to make sense. That cool, distinguished vibe Jake was always trying to emulate was a front, when in fact he was as soft and gentle as you had dreamed. Jake was just a lost boy, floundering around, trying to protect himself from being made a fool, or falling in love too hard too soon.

You turn to look at Josh, who is wincing through all the realization, “Fuck. Oh no Josh… He’s going to hate you for telling me all of this.”

“I know.” Josh pets his chin between his hands, “Still not sure if it was the right thing to do… Seems like I’ve gotten pretty good at oversharing Jake’s messes. Maybe you can convince him to tell you his story, now that you know he’s worth trying.”

“I never said I would try Josh, I still feel pretty fucked by this whole thing. The least he could do is actually fuck me instead of fucking me over and knocking my brains around in my head every couple of days.”

Josh shrugs, “That’s Jake. At least, the Jake that’s out there now. But I know what he’s capable of.” He winks at you.

You lean over to hug Josh, squeezing him with all of your might. “I don’t know what to do Josh. I think I love him.”

“I think he feels the same way, Mama.” He pets the back of your head, calming you.

You can practically feel the radiation of relief washing over Josh. He never knows whether he’s saying the right things or not. But just that simple explanation gave you everything you needed to forgive Jake, or at least to know it’s worth trying to talk something out with him. It was sad to know that it didn’t come from him, but wounds can be hard to talk about.

You had wounds of your own, fears of being abandoned, and always ready to cut things off before getting your heart broken. Perhaps you were too quick to keep turning Jake away, but of course, all of this is easy to say now that you have the full story and time to reflect.

Knock… Slam.

Jake barrels in, guns blazing, ready to tear the place apart.

“Hey!!”

He drunkenly stomps over to the two of you and pulls you apart.

“Jake!” You scold.

He turns to you, and points his finger in your face, “No. Not you. Do not get involved this time,” His finger veers over in front of Josh, “Stay out of my fucking love life. Don’t get her to leave me too.”

Josh throws his hands up in defense, “I didn’t-”

“You always, always win Josh. You took Jean, you’re taking her too.”

Josh squares up against Jake, taking his hand to lower his finger, “Have you considered that I’m not the reason they always leave Jake? Have you considered Jean was a horrible person for you and you’re still letting her ruin your life? You’re letting it ruin her chance to know you?” Josh looks over to you this time.

Jake throws his hands up in the air, “Ohhhh wise Joshua, please let me in on your vast knowledge of relationships. You’ve survived so much! It’s bullshit Josh. Everyone loves you, everyone adores you, you don’t fucking get it.”

This. This was disgusting. Everything Josh was saying was completely crumbling.

You take your moment, and prepare to join the battle, “Jake.”

He doesn’t even want to turn to look at you. He knows he’s being horrible. He knows he is trying to share the load of his pain instead of facing it.

“No, I said no. You don’t get it either. Do you know what it’s like to always be the other twin? The less outgoing, the less lively. Oh yes, assigned that from the beginning. Josh was the star of the show and got everyone he wanted. Got all the attention. Steals everything from me…” “Are you finished?” Josh asks, crossing his arms in front of him, “Because I have something to say now.”

Jake turns around to face the wall, smacking his palm against the brick, “Oh go ahead, please, we’d love to hear you talk some more.”

“So you decide now is the best time to come in here to try and get her back huh? Now, twenty minutes after your dirty secrets come out? Not when she was trying to fix it? You think you’re some brave guy coming in here to save her from me? No fucking way. I- ME- I am the one who came in here to make sure she was okay, not because I’m in fucking love with her, but because she’s in love with you. You have to be honest with her, be a fucking man.”

“Josh-” Jake murmurs, he seems hurt, “I-” He stares intently at Josh, broken from the words that were just spoken to him. You can see the emotions swirling inside of him, trying to decide: good, bad, angry, sad. You see his finger raise again and lift towards Josh.

“Jake! Look at me!.” You place your hands on your hips, scowling at Jake. He’s still locked into Josh, staring at him with a feverous intensity. Here was that brute cover-up again, and you were ready to face it head-on. “I’ve had just about enough of whatever bullshit this is. Your adult men, knock it the fuck off, you both care about each other! Stop being petty children. You’re both pretty! Whatever you want to hear!” You feel your blood pressure rise, all the drama and persuasion you have in your body pushing forward, “Jake your brother loves you and is trying to help you because for some reason as grown as you are, you still don’t know how to use your fucking words. Josh, your brother also loves you but you do have a habit of taking things too far and stepping into shit that doesn’t belong to you… Now, if we can get back to being fucking adults tonight that would be great!”

He turns to gingerly look at you. He’s scared. Thats all. He doesn’t want to be mean. He’s like a child, unsure of how to deal with his own emotions.

Josh looks at you, slightly frightened, but also intrigued by your willingness to control the situation.

“Alright? We get it?” You check both of their expressions, making sure the sentiments have sunk in, “Good. Apologize so we can get this shit over with.”

Jake jumps back and squares his shoulders, trying to boost his manly behavior. He squints his face in a peculiar unsettling way, “I’m not-”

“I’m sorry!” Josh blurts out. He sounded fearful almost like he was scared you would do something to him if he didn’t apologize.

You turn to look at Josh who has this sheepish apologetic look on his face. Jake brings his hand up to his face, trying to rub away the distasteful expression. He relaxes himself enough to admit to Josh, “I’m sorry too.”

He looks to you for approval. You cross your arms over your chest and nod satisfactorily. “Okay fine. Good enough,” You examine Jake, not just trying to quickly survey his expression, but instead seeing the fear behind his deep brown eyes. The guilt slowly pulls forward, creating a stormy mess inside. “We’re taking you back to your place now. Okay?”

He lets his guard down entirely. Shocked at the words coming out of your mouth. You two are entirely landlocked, holding your ground just feet from each other. Jake, opposite to you, has no idea that his whole love life was just spilled to you. Instead, all he knows is he is scared. He thinks he’s lost you all over again.

He seems like he’s sobered up, like his mind is clear, like he was ready to fight for you, on his terms this time.

Josh tries to sneak past the two of you. Danny opens the door enough to let him squeak out.

You walk up to Jake, wrapping your hands around his waist, pulling him tight into you. Lining yourself up to fit right into him. You look up to him, reaching one of your hands up to tuck the loose pieces of hair back into their rightful place. He’s silent, watching your every move.

“Jake,” You coo, “I’m going to drive us back to your house, okay?” He nods his head, “And then,” You dig your hands into his hips, “we’re going to talk. Like how fucking real people should.” He nods again.

You move your arms up to his back, caressing him softly, trying to show him that you aren’t as mad as you may seem. You reach around to his bicep, cuffing yourself on it, guiding him out of the bathroom.

You open the door to find the two hooligans, Josh and Danny, leaning against the door, eavesdropping.

“Boys, I think it’s time we call it a night.” You rub both of their shoulders, silently thanking them for their efforts tonight. “We’ll do this again soon, okay?” You look to Jake, who is still stoic, perhaps more confused than anything, “Jake and I are going to go home and chat.”

Out of nowhere, Sam pounces over to the group. He looks concerned and worried, “Oh my god! I heard you throwing up like crazy in there are you okay?!”

You turn to Danny, “Do you wanna?-”

Danny laughs, “I got it.”

You give Sam the same comforting arm rub as Josh and Danny and continue to parade Jake through the bar. Some glances make their way across the room. No surprise there; you were some form of entertainment for the customers tonight.

Jake finally breaks his silence, the shock is settling, “What's?-”

You shush him, “Let's just get home.”

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