#i LOVE when they remind us that he is literally three inches tall

[sukirichi]

reckless [02.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. angst, toxic situations

✘ note. yes, feel free to scream at me in the asks. but like don’t worry, i promise there’s more to come and there’s more to happen! it’s going to get fluffier as we go hehehehe. ALSO, I can’t help but feel that Zayn’s “Let Me” speaks perfectly to CEO playboy Gojo. hmph.

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One glance at the tall man beside you, and you would’ve thought he would pass out soon.

Satoru had been endlessly fidgety hours before the appointment. Flicking from music stations to another, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel or sighing at the sight of you calmly watching the city go by in a flash – it was clear he was restless. Judging from the dark circles he tried to conceal under a pair of shades, he probably hadn’t slept much last night as well.

Now that you were both inside the clinical room, with you laying back down on the reclined bed, belly exposed and all for him to marvel at, his knee hadn’t stopped bouncing. “Satoru, calm down. It’s just a doctor’s appointment.”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. “I’m just…excited yet nervous, you know? It feels so real now.”

Real didn’t begin to cover it. Although you masked your nervous quite well, you felt your stomach tighten when a woman came in. Her smile was gentle and comforting enough, talking you both through the process and spilling little fun facts about pregnancy. She applied a cool gel over your belly before turning to a screen, where mixed dots and waves of black and white blurred in front of your visions. Your eyes widened in awe, throat dry from the inability to speak. The baby had always felt real, but seeing it with your own two eyes, a small figure barely even a comprehensible shape in the screen, you couldn’t help but tear up a little.

“That’s mine?” Satoru breathed out, absentmindedly looping his hands through yours. It made you stiffen for a quick second, but your attention was quickly pulled back to the sonogram. “We made that?”

Your heart clenched at his words.

He sounded so happy – like all his dreams came true and you’d just given him a gift that was beyond priceless. You supposed it really was; a baby was always a miracle and joy to have, but this child wasn’t made out of love. How could he have so much fondness for something he didn’t want in the first place?

“The baby is perfectly healthy. This pregnancy doesn’t seem like a high-risk one, but it’s too early to tell so we’ll keep checking in on you,” the doctor pushed her glasses back to her nose, the sound of her cool voice pulling you back from a dangerous path of self-doubt and wariness. “Do you guys want to know the gender?”

Glancing at Satoru, you shook your head. It was amusing that you didn’t need to share words before he got the meaning behind one look, and he squeezed your hand as if to say he understood.

“I’d like that to be more of a surprise. Thank you, doctor.”

“Congratulations on being a father, Sir,” she bowed, and it occurred to you just now she was probably a family doctor. Satoru did end up keeping his promise that your pregnancy be kept private for a while. This little detail made you turn to him with shock written all over your face, though his attention was centred in on the swirling monochrome colours on the screen. Whether the doctor noticed the brewing tension between you two or not, you were still gad when they bowed once more to excuse themselves. “I’ll leave you two to talk now.”

The moment she was gone, you sat up and pushed your blouse down. Satoru’s demeanour had changed as well. His smile was wiped from his face, replaced only by a slight downturn of his lips.

Sighing, you swung your legs over the bed, not minding one bit that he was inches away from resting his chin onto your thighs. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You’ve been so worried since we got here.”

Satoru winced.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Even if you aren’t, it’s not that hard to see through you,” you spoke gently, a spirit possessing you because there would’ve been no other logical reason on why you placed a palm over his. Satoru’s hands were warm and large as he cupped your knee, tracing little patterns over your jeans as he kept his gaze lowered to the floor. It was an odd sight to see; that the Gojo Satoru refused to look a woman in the eye. “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Satoru’s sigh is painfully drawn out, though his chuckles took the brunt.

“I don’t know what to do – how to be a father, I mean. Don’t you ever get worried…that maybe we might fuck up and ruin someone’s life?”

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes – which you really wished he didn’t, because you’d never seen such azure this up close before. It was no secret that his eyes alone stole the hearts of people, but you had to remind yourself he broke them as well, so that you pulled away right before he got too close for comfort. It wasn’t what he needed anyway. Satoru simply required reassurance, so you opted for an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Weren’t you the one telling me the other day we’ll work it out?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, a smile lighting up his features once more. “Are you feeling good? There’s someplace I want to take you, as a celebration for our healthy baby.”

You pursed your lips. As much as you appreciated his enthusiasm, this ‘celebration’ didn’t sound like a good idea. You’ve made mistakes before and now you lived the consequence of it; being reckless was outdated. Caution, wariness, and space were the top three perfect recipes for the complete opposite of a disaster.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Why not?” he challenged, taking your hand in his as he guided you out the clinic. You made no comment on why he led you out the back where he’d parked his car, even going as far to bow for you as he opened your door. “Liven up a little, we got good news today! Plus, we didn’t both take a day for nothing. Come on, you’re going to have fun, I promise you!”

“And where would we go where people won’t recognize you?”

“Somewhere people are too lost in their own world to focus on others,” Satoru announced before sending you a side glance, smooth hands already on their way to rev the engine.

This wouldn’t go down well. Or at least that was what you wanted to believe, because his smile and excitement were too contagious that you couldn’t restrain the smile you wore.

“A carnival? Really? We’re too old for this.”

“We’re never too old for anything,” he insisted, placing his hands on your shoulders as he maneuvered from stall to stall. Everywhere around you, children and people of all ages milled by, laughter and screams that fading into the distance. One survey at the long, endless lines for the rides and crowded spaces, you grimaced, feeling an uncomfortable weight resting on your shoulders that was beyond Satoru’s hands. “Aw, come on, don’t be such a bore. Day offs like these are rare and think about the baby! Don’t you think they would’ve wanted us to get a long?”

“You’re just using the baby as an excuse to have fun.”

Of course he would – Gojo Satoru was like a man-child. Whether it was someone randomly bringing donuts or puppies into the office, he easily lit up like a firework, seemingly finding joy in every little thing. Being stuck in the office and forced to work his ass off under your supervision must’ve taken a toll on him too.

Add on the fact he hadn’t gone out on dates or parties ever since he found out he was going to be a dad, the desperation to go out and do something was written all over his face.

Satoru pouted. “That’s mean. Take that back.”

“No.”

“And I’m the childish one here?” he snickered. You merely rolled your eyes at him and gave in; too much time spent working and not enough time relaxing (not that being a carnival was your definition or relaxation, but alas, Satoru was dragging you around everywhere like always) wouldn’t be good for the baby.

“You see that bear over there? I’m going to win that for you. It could be my first ever present for our baby.”

There was no stopping him. You didn’t want to, either, because you just stood there, arms crossed against your chest as you let him do whatever he pleased. A literal man-child, a youthful soul stuck in an irritatingly attractive man’s body – these were the thoughts that ran through your head while Satoru kept swinging his arm back and forth. He chose a stall where you had to knock down stacks of cans down with one set of three balls, all because he wanted to win a bear. You would really rather go home than watch him fail four times now, but he wasn’t giving up, only flexing his shoulders before gesturing to the young man.

“Hey man, three more balls please.”

Nothing was funny about it at all. Watching your boss fail miserably even after ten tries shouldn’t have been so hilarious, yet sweat was dripping all over his face and his patience was hanging on a loose thread that you were giggling before you knew it.

His usual confident bravado began to tear down bit by bit, his face flushed from the sounds of your teasing.

“Satoru, stop,” you laughed, “We’ve been here for twenty minutes and your wallet might as well be empty! You can just go buy a bear at the mall.”

“You’re too functional. Where would be the meaning behind it if I just bought a random bear?” he huffed, pushing the sleeves of his denim jacket up to his elbows. Determined now more than ever, he even stretched his long arms side to the side with a shake of his hips. You could tell the young man manning the stall was hiding his amusement by whistling to himself, but Satoru really was such a ridiculous sight you couldn’t blame him. “No, I’m going to get that for you, then I’ll brag to my baby how cool their dad was when he knocked those cans down.”

“You mean, if you knock those cans down.”

His shoulders deflated. “Support me a little bit, will you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, it might just inflate your ego and you’ll be too distracted by yourself to ever actually knock those cans down,” He threw a ball with a force so strong it hit the curtain above the cans, and it bounced back somewhere below the tables. It didn’t even touch the can by a smidge, and you snorted. “See what I mean?”

Expecting that Satoru would take insult to heart (as his ego was easily wounded, this much you knew when he refused to talk to anyone at the office for a whole day because one of his directors forgot his name) you smirked at him, but that smirk immediately dropped when he grinned back at you. He was no longer wimpy like before, an aura of confidence brimming from him. “That’s like the second time you’ve told me I was distracting,” he mused, leaving you baffled because he was right. “On the contrary, I think you’rea lot more distracting, so I take that back. Just stand there and watch me win.”

“Okay,” you drawled out in faux disinterest, thankful for the corny carnival music and chatter from the crowd that he couldn’t hear your poor beating heart.

You were too focused on pretending to be unbothered by him that you failed to see how the cans were knocked down. The counter guy was already picking them up as Satoru pumped his fists in the air, way too much like a child high on sugar.

Was this really the father of your baby?

“I won! I fucking won! That huge brown bear, please!”Satoru’s smile from holding the bear that was half his size couldn’t even compare to the city lights and sparklers. Even his eyes were lit up in joy as he skipped back to you, happily waving the doe-eyed bear in front of you. At your lack of reaction, he sighed before jutting his cheek out to you. “No congratulations kiss?”

“How about a slap?”

“Kinky,” he teased, sending your brain to overheat when he tapped his chin in thought. “Well, you did make my back bleed so I kind of got the idea you’re sort of extreme in bed – ow! Would you please stop hitting me? I just won you a wonderful prize and your first reaction is to hit me! This arm is exhausted from swinging endlessly, you know.”

“Maybe if you aimed better, you wouldn’t have had to exhaust yourself. Like I said, you could’ve just bought a bear,” you scolded, raising your arm threateningly when he opened his mouth again. Idiot. “Give me that.”

Satoru effortlessly swung the bear until it was under your chins, his white lashes ethereal as he peeked at you through them. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath dusting on your cheeks, that same warmth that had been mixing with yours in a sloppy, heated kiss just weeks ago. “And who said I was letting you carry this?” he taunted, thoroughly enjoying how for once, you weren’t hitting him.“I’m supposed to wave this around proudly then place it in our baby’s room when we get home. Besides, your hand looks heavy already.”

“My hands? Wait, what do you mean our baby’s room?”

At your words and questioning gaze, Satoru did a quick turn, trying to use the bear as a shield.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I may or may not have had my parents’ guest room renovated as a baby room, although if you ask me, I think moving somewhere else would be much better. Raising a child in a penthouse doesn’t seem like such a great idea if you ask me,” opening your mouth to scold him, Satoru stopped you by placing a finger on your lips, noses grazing against each other. “Don’t scold me right now; I know that look on your face and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, okay? We can still decorate it ourselves. I just had the beds removed and the space cleaned out. Now stop over thinking and let me help you with your problem.”

You pushed his face away for the sake of your heart. In fact, you should be paid for your acting skills for looking so unaffected.

“What problem?”

“Your hands look heavy,” he beamed, long fingers looping through yours as he swayed them side to side. “So let me carry it for you.”

“Satoru, I—”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he blinked innocently while surrendering his free hand, “I’m not doing this for you, it’s for the baby. Did you know oxytocin is released and makes you feel good and reduces pain, maybe even stress? We can pump your oxytocin levels through touch. It also lowers your blood pressure, and we want you at your happiest and healthiest for this pregnancy, right?”

“Since when were you an expert on this?”

“Since I found out I’m becoming a dad,” his words struck you speechless, mouth pressed into a flat line as you stared him openly. You hadn’t mean to come off as rude in that moment; you were just trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words, to explore the depth in his eyes, but Satoru must’ve took it wrong as he cleared his throat, “I can let go if you really want me to.”

“N-no! It’s fine…can we move? We’ve been standing here for ten minutes now,” Embarrassed, you pointed to the closest thing in your sight – a photo booth. “How about there? That looks fun.”

Satoru followed where your arm was pointed, laughing when a couple exited the red curtains while giggling amongst themselves. The guy even leaned down to steal a long kiss from his lover, and if you were embarrassed before, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back again right now. “You know, if you wanted me to be stuck in a cramped space next to you, you could’ve just said so. I didn’t bring the limo with me, but the Audi could be pretty small for us, I guess…”

You hissed at him in warning, “God, you never shut up do you?”

“It made you smile.”

“I wasn’t smiling!”

“Sure, mommy, whatever you say,” bumping his hip with yours, Satoru led you inside the cube. There were a plethora of filters to choose from; ranging from heart frames and ones that placed shades on your face. Not really thinking of what to pick, you reached out to press the frog hats one, but Satoru was swatting your hands away for the effect with heart emojis everywhere. “This is cute. We can show this to our baby once they’re born.”

“They won’t really know what a Polaroid is, Satoru.”

“It’s still sentimental!” he grumbled before clicking the camera icon, a huge smile already on his face until he saw you squished on the other side of the booth. Only one side of your ear could be seen, and Satoru furrowed his brows at you. “Come closer, you’ll be cropped from the frame.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jesus, Y/N, don’t act shy now, I already fucked a baby into you,” mouth falling open at the vulgarity of his words, Satoru took the chance to drag you beside him. “Relax, you’re always so stiff. Our baby might come out frowning if you keep huffing like that.”

“You’re too close for comfort.”

“My apologies, I’ll try not to be included in the photo when you’re the one who suggested this in the first place,” he muttered playfully, booping your nose before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He was close, too close, that his musky perfume filled the close space. You wanted to lean closer to his warmth and sturdiness of his broad shoulders; his mere presence bringing about a sense of tranquillity despite your words. You told yourself it shouldn’t be too bad to lean into him for just a little while, absentmindedly following him as he cheers, “Smile!”

One photo turned into two, and Satoru ended up inserting a few more bills into the slot to take more. He tried out as many filters as he wanted, acting as if you two had been long time friends from how easy it was for him to be around you like that.

You supposed it came from his heavy experience with women. You were so unlike; while he was open to touch and didn’t care too much about space, you craved it deliriously.

It was obvious none of this meant anything to Satoru. You were probably just another woman in his life, with the exception that you had a kid, but you couldn’t mean something more. If anything, he treated you more like an old friend than a lover. He’d said it himself before that you weren’t his type and you didn’t mind, so why did it hurt the longer you mulled about it? Sure, you may not be as attractive or luxurious as his previous lovers, but did you really not even have charismatic pull? Is it because you weren’t his type that he was so casual with you, while you on the other hand, felt like you would lose your mind at every little thing he did?

You watched as Satoru pulled out his wallet and kept the Polaroid of you both grinning at the camera, forming a silly heart shape with your hands per his request. It was silly and platonic – yet the gesture confused you to no end.

“Why’d you do that?”

Satoru’s hand paused. “Am I not allowed to…?”

“We’re not lovers. You can’t just put a photo of us in your wallet.”

As if to prove a point, Satoru pulled out more photos of his wallet and showed it to you. There were several more wallet-sized photos, mostly of his white cat with black shades, another of him and his best friend, Shoko, and the last photo was of him skiing. They were all placed in his wallet along with a small, faded out photograph of what seemed to be his parents from the younger days. You couldn’t understand why he was showing you this, much less how patient he was as he smiled softly at you. “It’s memorabilia. I keep photos of everyone I care about everywhere with me,” he said, pocketing his wallet back before gazing up at the night sky. “I like to think we’re friends, at least. We’re definitely not just boss and employee anymore.”

Then what are we?

There were so many things you wanted to ask. You always knew he was always this overly friendly and nice, but what did make you? What did a friend mean to him? Other than Shoko, who was his lesbian friend who was also the company’s resident doctor, you’d never seen him be platonic with another female before.

The realization made your mood drop.

Maybe you were right. He probably didn’t even see you as a woman, but what did it matter? You didn’t like him. You shouldn’tlike him. Even if he had no intentions of wooing you, Gojo Satoru was far too appealing for his own good. Being around him was dangerous for your heart.

“Wanna ride the ferris wheel? The night city always looks beautiful.”

He was just your boss...and you were just a friend. Things were going to be alright as long as no feelings were involved. You survived seven years of working with him with not a single moment where your heart fluttered when he spoke your name; a baby made between you shouldn’t change anything now. At the end of the day, you were both only doing this out of responsibility. Satoru was trying his best to become a supportive co-parent to you, and that was all it ever would be. Strictly business – purely professional – as it always had been and always will be.

Foolish girl, you could hear a voice whisper at the back of your head, don’t get too lost in his eyes.

“Y/N, are you tired? Do you want to go home now? We can just order dinner to be delivered if you’re exhausted,” Satoru tugged at your sleeve to get your attention, and you chuckled awkwardly, not meaning to have spaced out the whole time. Worry was written all over his face from the way his brows dipped, stunning blue eyes darkening like the night sky you both made memories under.

Don’t look at me like that...

“Are you okay? Do you wanna go home?”

“Yeah,” you chirped far too brightly than you would’ve liked. Right now, it was more of a mission of fake it til you make it. You would just have to keep exerting the same amount of effort into making this work for the baby’s sake. And if that meant pushing aside any budding desire for this to last any longer to focus on your ‘friendship’, then you would do it. Taking Satoru’s hand for the first time since the baby ordeal, you flashed him a genuine smile. “The ferris wheel sounds nice. Let’s do some sightseeing before the night ends.”

Neither of you speak inside the cab. Beautiful the night was as the city shone into awakening illumination beneath you, comforting you with the thought that in the grand scheme of it all, you were small. Insignificant. That somehow everything you worried about wouldn’t matter when there was a much bigger world out there, and you were but a fickle dot in the middle of its entirety. But that was you, and Gojo lived in a much different world than you did. For somewhere in the city, you could recognize several of the sky towers, buildings, and establishments owned by his family. He mattered in the grand scheme; you were a small factor in his world.

Glancing back at the man who’d been silent the whole ride, you smiled upon seeing that he was doing the same. Satoru was practically bouncing in his seat as he snapped several photos of the city, mumbling something about he’d never seen this view before.

He was so innocent yet so out there, igniting within you an urge to take care of him and wanting to be taken care of by him.

You’d already accepted that you may just never have him that way. That small, fleeting crush was like a butterfly – pretty look at, but damn near impossible to catch. You’d already stopped crying yourself to sleep over the new changes brought about in your body, that in a few months’ time, you’d look back into everything and see that everything had changed. The mistakes you made that night were still something you regretted because you wished you could’ve done better, but seeing him right in front of you now, there was only gratefulness blooming within. Grateful that he was right by your side, grateful that at least the father of your child was more than capable of giving them a comfortable life, grateful that he didn’t push you away like you expected.

Acting more on impulse than logic, you leaned over to press your lips on his cheek.“Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes closed as you let your lips stay there for a few more seconds.

His skin was warm underneath your touch, and when you opened your eyes, Satoru was gazing up at you with stars twinkling in the vast galaxy he called his eyes. You smiled at his reaction, watching as he reached a palm out to caress that spot your lips had landed.“For what?”

“For everything,” you crumbled,“You’re not a bad person, Satoru, I know that,” with shuddered breaths, tears sprung at the back of your eyes again. “I’m sorry for being so difficult. I just need time to adjust to…well, all of this.” Your voice cracked at the last sentence and you were crying before you knew it, face hidden behind your palms in fear he’d look at you differently. In his eyes, you were always his stoic secretary who didn’t even bat an eye when people gave you backlash after Satoru hired you despite the lack of a college degree.

This all felt new – to cry, to trust, to rely on someone – and there was a flurry of emotions you couldn’t quite place yet.

Scooping you into his arms, Satoru patted your back as your cries grew louder. “Take all the time you need. We don’t have to rush into anything at all.”

In the harsh world of conglomerates where the laws of business blurred thinner and thinner with each day, it was hard to believe that not rushing into anything would be possible. It was always a flurry of hurried phone calls, frantic preparations for emergency meetings, anxiety over presenting new proposals and hoping that your superiors would sign your documents so you could go about your way. Time was as imperative as money was to them, but Satoru had proved he could be beyond that.

From the moment you met him, he never treated time as if it was something that slipped through his fingertips. He enjoyed every second he had of his life, and perhaps that was why you hated him so much in the first place.

You thought he took everything for granted, when in reality, all he did was bask in the little things life offered.

This much, at least, you trusted him with. If he said there would be no need to rush and you could both take it slow, he meant it. Around him, time felt more like a secret whisper than a treasure you both had to seize to protect. The night drifted off until it was already midnight and the crew was ushering all visitors out. You and Satoru made it home safely and quietly, hands linked together as if it was the most natural thing ever. No rush, you kept telling yourself, and you plopped down on the couch heavily as you let your muscles relax from such a long, eventful day.

You stayed there for a solid minute or so when you felt warm hands take your heels off. Opening your eyes, Satoru kneeled before you, his fingers expertly rubbing and pushing against the sore muscles of your feet. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Your feet must be tired from all that walking,” he mumbled, looking up briefly to meet your eyes and tease your shoulder back. “Lean back for me. I’ll take care of you.”

Judging by the sentiment behind his smile, you figured it wouldn’t be harmful to enjoy this at least once. You’ve never gotten foot massages before but his hands kneading yours felt heavenly. You knew from experience beforehand that Satoru was quite godly when it came to the skills and magic his fingers brought, though this one was on a different level, and you were sinking deeper into the couch from the bliss. He was right; you were tired, and if having your boss massage you like this every night after dragging you wherever he pleased, then you wouldn’t complain.

The ringing of your phone made you sit up abruptly, surprising Satoru whose head you almost knocked into. “Sorry,” you croaked out sheepishly, “It’s my dad. I need to take this.”

“Do you need me to leave you alone?”

“Uh, no, you’re fine.”

Satoru gestured to your foot as you took the call, mouthing, “Should I continue?”

“Yes, please,” you answered back, palm pressed over the mic before you answered. “Hey, Dad!” Your father greeted you back with much enthusiasm, his energy heard even by Satoru who sent you small smiles and curious glances every now and then. A part of you wanted to ask if he was fine kneeling on the floor like that, but his knees were on the fur carpet anyway that it shouldn’t hurt him. He extended your leg and trailed up your calves, pulling a soft moan from you when he kneaded the flesh and rid it of its knots. His ministrations distracted you until you were nodding absentmindedly to your Dad every now and then, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

Then the call ended, and his last words kept ringing back into your head ominously. Satoru took quick notice of this as he tapped your knee, bringing your attention back to him. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I...” you started, helplessly fumbling around Satoru. “My dad is in Tokyo. He said he wants to have dinner with me.”

“You don’t look particularly happy about that. Do you not want to meet your father?”

“I do but...”

“But?”

“I have to tell him about this,” you shivered, refracting your legs back to the couch until his touch disappeared from your skin. For a moment, you had the urge to crawl back to his heat, but you were restless, agitated. “About us. He’s going to want to meet you and I don’t want to hide the pregnancy from him either,” Satoru remained unmoving as you rambled, and you hid your face behind your arms again as you remembered the rules you asked him to follow. “Listen, I’m sorry if I sound unfair right now, I know I said I didn’t want anyone else knowing—”

Warm lips brushed over your knuckles, large hands peeling your wrists to reveal your face. “Hey, it’s fine. He’s family and you can tell him. It’s not like your Dad would ruin your image or something like you expected to happen.”

“He won’t but...” you frowned, “My dad isn’t going to like this. I can’t guarantee he’ll be civil the whole time, especially towards you.”

“You told him about me?”

“A few years ago, yeah, when I still couldn’t tolerate you.”

“So you can tolerate me now?”

“Only a little bit,” you corrected, pushing his hands away as you opened your phone to check your schedule. It was mostly Satoru’s schedule, truth be told, but you were free for the most part tomorrow. Satoru could just longue back in his office while you clocked out early to meet your dad. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. On second thought, he doesn’t have to know at all. I’m only a few weeks in and it’s not like he’ll notice—”

“Y/N,” Satoru interrupted you, rudely snatching his phone from your shaking fingers. You would’ve scolded him had he not sounded so worried. “I did promise I would take responsibility for you, right? I want to meet your dad and introduce myself properly. As a father-to-be, I think I can somewhat understand that he might react strongly to this, but I also need to reassure him you’re in safe hands,” taking your hand in his, Satoru leaned into your palm, the smile he wore way too charming than what your heart could handle. “As long as you’re okay with it, I would like to meet him.”

“I’m sorry if he does something stupid.”

“Don’t be,” he reassured with a chuckle. “I’m sure everything will go well.”

It didn’t go well. Your father wasn’t throwing a fit or causing a scene like you originally feared, but the current situation wasn’t any better either. He looked like he was on the verge of tearing Satoru’s head apart, his grip on the bread knife so tight his knuckles flashed white. Your father was the literal definition of unpredictable and out of nervousness, you held Satoru’s hand under the table for comfort.

In complete opposition of yours, Satoru handled it with class and composure. His head was ducked down in respect, making sure to be curt and precise in counters to your father’s harsh accusations.

“I’m really sorry for everything, Sir.”

“Did you ruin my daughter’s life?”

Satoru finally tilted his head back up to look your father in the eye, both your hands turning cold and sweaty in between the seats. “Pardon?”

“I asked if you ruined my daughter’s life by getting her pregnant.”

“I would never intend for that to happen, Sir,” Satoru straightened up. From your perspective, he looked every bit the man parents would want their children to be with – handsome, elegant, educated, polite, respectful and well-off – but your father was no ordinary parent. He sized Satoru up like a predator hunting his prey even as the latter acted cool about it. “Granted, it was an accident and neither of us are prepared for this, but I promise I’ll take care of her. I take responsibility as the father and you have nothing to worry about.”

Your dad slammed his palms down on the table, the loud smack catching the attention of nearby tables. “How dare you tell me I have nothing to worry about?”

“Dad, please don’t do this.”

“No, he needs to know,” he snapped. Unable to help it, you groaned inwardly and scooted closer to Satoru, knowing where this was leading. “I lost her mother right after she was born; raised her by myself when I was barely out from high school. Rich men like you may never understand the struggles of taking care of a baby all by yourself, but I did everything I could to make sure she grew up well. My daughter had a happy, comfortable life. When she told me she wanted to follow her dreams in Tokyo, I supported her, and then you go take everything away from her because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? You dare defile her like that?”

“Dad!” you roared, clutching Satoru’s hand who’d gone limp. “It was equally my responsibility as it is his! I wanted this; we both got carried away but we’re doing our best, so please stop being difficult to us.”

“You wanted this?” he laughed dryly, “A child with this man you kept moaning to me about; the same man who went to clubs every night while he left you all by yourself to work, to clean up his mess from him? You wanted him?”

“Dad,” you gritted your teeth, nails sinking down onto your thigh. Satoru remained silent between you both, although you could feel his burning gaze penetrating through the back of your skull. “It’s both our mistake. But this child...we don’t see it as that. We like to view it as a blessing. It may be true we harbour no affection for one another, but we want to be good parents. That’s all you need to know and I find no reason to explain myself to you. If you have nothing else to say, you can go back home. I’ll pay for your ride,” slamming down a few bills his way, you glared at your father, who shrunk back at the anger radiating off of you. “You’re not welcome here, Dad. Just go back home.”

“I’m just worried for you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“I never said you were,” he sighed, rubbing the sides of his temples. “But he just took all your opportunities away from you! What about your dreams? What about your plan of having your own career once you have enough experience? What about—”

“Are you implying that because I’m pregnant, suddenly I’m not qualified to fulfil my goals?”

“Sir,” Satoru cut you off, releasing your hands as he leaned forwards on the table, becoming more and more like the CEO he was trained to be – all authority and gentle command that won the hearts of multiple investors. “I assure you that I won’t be holding your daughter back from the things she wants to achieve. As her co-parent, I’m perfectly capable of supporting her in the dreams she wishes to achieve. I’ve worked with her for years; I know she can reach for the stars if she wanted.”

Your mind blanked.

“Young man, don’t talk to me as if you know my daughter better than I do,” your father scorned, “I’m not questioning your capability to support her, but what about your credibility? How can you assure me you’ll really be there for her? How can you assure me you won’t leave my daughter stranded in the middle of nowhere? How can you assure me you can protect her from the harsh criticism of society? Money can’t provide nor does it solve anything,” your father copied his gesture by leaning forward, but it was to poke Satoru’s chest. “From what I’ve heard about you, I suppose you understand perfectly well why I don’t trust you.”

“Sir, I do plan on marrying your daughter and to give her the life she deserves,” Satoru confessed, effectively stealing from you the ability to speak as he glimpsed your way. “If she lets me.”

“You’ll marry her? Be faithful to her as your wife and have a family? Are you sure you can do that?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m highly confident I can. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Then that’s all I need to know,” your father leaned back in your seat, arms crossed against his chest and a stern expression on his face. “And if I find out you hurt or make my daughter cry in any way, I’ll beat up that pretty face of yours. I have two more sons that’re willing to do the same, if you don’t watch your actions.”

Satoru beamed at your father’s ‘approval.’ “I’ll face any consequence if I fall short on my duties, Sir, but I assure you, it will never have come to that.”

“So we’ve come to an agreement?”

The two men linked and shook hands across the table, completely disregarding the fact you were right beside him. You were beyond appalled, but mostly hurt that you’d been reduced to this way. And they were unaware of it, too, sickening and satisfied yet tense smiles were masked on their faces as they decided your future.

You stood up and left the restaurant.

You kept walking as fast as you could in the cold night, hands shoved into the coat of your pockets. Thousands of pin needles pricked at your heart and your skin the more you replayed the memory in your head. How stupid were you to think that Satoru would be different? And marriage? Was he serious? It all made you sick to the core to the point you wanted to throw up and disappear, until a heavy set of footsteps echoed behind you and tugged your wrist.

“Y/N, wait!” Satoru panted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “What’s wrong with you? You just up and left—”

“Seriously, Satoru, you’re asking me that?” your face fell flat at his cluelessness, “What’s wrong with you? You men are sickening; planning my entire future like that right in front of me as if I don’t have a say in what I want. None of you asked if I’m okay with this. You really went ahead deciding we’ll get married when I told you already, I don’t want to marry you and I never will!”

Satoru brushed a hand over his hair, a hand on his hip. You could tell his patience was being tested – after being verbally harassed by your father and now with you pushing back in the same heat, it was only a matter of time before he lost his cool. Surprisingly enough, however, his voice remained levelled as he sighed. “What did you expect me to do back there? Tell your father that we’re just going to be roommates and raise a child together as if we’re not already family?” he defended, words slow and pronounced with a hint of hurt behind them. “I respect you and I truly do want to be with you, that’s why I wanted us to get married.”

“You respect me?” you laughed incredulously, “Are you hearing yourself right now? No person respects another by deciding what happens to my life without my consent!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask, okay? I apologize for it and I acknowledge my mistake that I didn’t give you much of a choice. Me being cornered and pressured isn’t a good excuse, but I wasn’t lying when I said I want to take care of you and—”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want to be with me?” you demanded, “Why do you want to take care of me so badly? How did you even take this so well? You weren’t even that angry when I told you I was pregnant.”

Satoru paled. “Was I supposed to be? Should I have pushed you away and kicked you out my life? Is that what you wanted me to do, or is that what you expected from me, considering you’ve made it extremely clear I’m nothing but your airheaded boss and a man who always wants his dick wet, right?” the sting of his words pricked you both – you with your guilt, and him with his pride crushed. But he didn’t let on, didn’t waver and didn’t match your anger as his chest shook with impatience. “I’m trying to be good to you; I want to be good for you and the baby because despite what you think of me, I’m not the devil the tabloids make me out to be. I sleep around, yeah, but I wouldn’t go so far to turn someone away especially when I know I’m supposed to be there.”

“Satoru, if you’re only doing this out of obligation, you can be a good father without marrying me. Marriage is not a requirement; I don’t care what people say that I got pregnant without getting married. That’s the least of my concern, I just want the baby to grow up healthy but I don’t want to be involved with you.”

With how stunned Satoru looked, one would’ve thought you slapped him right in the face. That mere sight of seeing your boss tear his walls down in front of you almost made you feel bad, but you had to be strong.

You had to be firm with what you stood for.

“I really don’t want to be with you, Satoru. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” his voice cracked, begging and pleading as he stood before you, looking every bit of a man lost in uncharted territory. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. One moment, you’re telling me you want me to be a good father, and then the next you’re pushing me away. People are so sure that I’m a man who can never settle down because they believe I have commitment issues, but I’m telling you I can commit to you right now,” he held your hand, rubbing some of his warmth at your comparably cold ones. You didn’t fail to notice that he was trembling, but what about what you couldn’t decipher. “Are you really sure I’m the one here who isn’t capable of that? What are you so scared of that you can’t trust me?”

“Because you’re you! Because you’re a fucking asshole who’s been treating me like I’m an overworking machine and always expects me to undo your shit for you! Because you make me sick and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t know what love means!” Exploded. You exploded. “I regret everything that happened between us that night. No, in fact, I regret ever meeting you at all.”

Satoru took a step back.

All the light and joy that fit so perfectly with him had now disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” he demurred, “I’m sorry that I’d been so repulsive that you’ve felt miserable for all this time. I’m sorry I haven’t been a decent boss and I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.”

“Gojo, stop. Stop doing that; stop apologizing!”

“Then tell me what you want me to do,” he barked desperately. “Because I can’t read your mind and I just want to be good for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to? I don’t want you to be good to me, I don’t want you to care about me. Be there for the baby, but don’t involve yourself too much in my personal life. Stop asking me to marry you because you and I would never work out. We’re impossible, okay?”

“How do you know we’ll never work out when we haven’t even tried?” he pushed, “You never even gave me a chance.”

“You’re not worth that chance.”

If someone could receive an award for effortlessly trampling over someone repeatedly, you would’ve been crowned winner a long time ago. You had no idea what came over you as you spat all those hurtful words to Satoru, but did your words bear no truth? The fact that he no longer defended himself meant he also knew that he wasn’t worth it – that he wasn’t someone to be trusted. It wasn’t that you were completely unfair too; of course you considered it. Weeks of living under the same roof as him and you most definitely considered it. Say you did get married and became a real family – what then? It wasn’t a marriage out of love, but rather out of responsibility and obligation.

As much as you loved your child, you couldn’t imagine throwing away your future and living miserable for the rest of your life like that.

A life built on lies wasn’t a life worth living.

“I would never hurt you.”

Your heart cracked. After everything you said, after all your efforts to keep him away from your own safety, after all the hurtful things you’ve done to him, and he was still apologizing? Why did he have to make it so hard to let go? You were tired, so tired that you could no longer refrain your lip from quivering as tears caked your face.

“Gojo, please, don’t—”

“So if me stepping away from your life is what would really make you happy, then I’ll respect it. But there’s one thing I have to ask,” Satoru swiped a thumb under your eye to catch the tear. His smile was forlorn, his touch cold and words melancholic. “Do you want the baby? Do you...want to keep the baby and be a mother? You don’t have to do anything for me, I just want to know if the mother of my child even wants to be one. And please be honest, because everything you say right now are words that I’ll mark seriously.”

The word left your mouth before you could stop it.

“No.”

“No what?”

“I don’t want to be a mother,” you admitted, hands trailing over your belly. It felt like you were betraying your own child, but you hadn’t planned this. “I’m too young, Satoru, I-I’m not ready for this. With you there beside me or not, I really don’t want this.”

“Then,” he cleared his throat, turning his head to the side to catch a moment. You swore you saw his eyes shine under the city lights with tears, but it was gone so soon that you might’ve just fooled yourself with it. Once he deemed himself ready to talk, Satoru took a deep breath. “Do I have your consent that once the baby is born...it’ll be under my care? Would you prefer to reach your own dreams, then? You’ll never have to be a part of the Gojo family if it’s really not what you want, even though I could support you as much as you need me to.”

Your eyes widened at his proposition. “You’ll take care of our baby?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Can I...can I visit them, at least, once in a while?” It was more than just your heart that broke that night. There was no telling whether you’d hurt yourself in the long run with this decision. It was no easy choice to make – to actively pursue your dreams somewhere else more than being a mother. You wanted to do your best, of course you did, but it wasn’t that easy. Gojo didn’t have to tell you for you to understand that once you married him, you’d be expected to run the business with him and be involved in his family and their dramas. Now that wasn’t a life you wanted.

“You’re free to visit them whenever,” he promised, voice fading even lower into the background. “So is this it? We’ll just be living under the same roof until the baby is born and once they’re here...”

“We’ll part ways.”

“We’ll part ways,” he nodded in agreement, sniffling for a brief second before fixing his tie. The Gojo Satoru you got to know for a few weeks had now disappeared. Not even the goofy boss you spent seven years with could be found in the coldness of his eyes, almost as if he’d put up such impenetrable walls around him and nothing could pass through. The sudden shift in aura made your heart clench as he offered his hand to shake. “Okay. Let’s stay professional until then?”

“Yeah, Sir, I can do that,” your hands shook as you enclosed it around his, but now all the warmth had disappeared – from his eyes, his touch, his soul. It hurt, but this was necessary. It was what felt right. “Thank you – for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Anything for you and the baby,” Satoru proclaimed, perplexing you both when he suddenly pulled you in his arms. Just like that, the dam broke, and you were staining his precious suit before you could stop it. His arms rubbed up and down your back the longer he held you there, almost like a final moment to lean on one another before you had to say goodbye eventually. Beneath your palm, his heart beat exuberantly loud, so much so that you might’ve heard the prayers it whispered. “Stop crying now. The baby might feel sad too. We’ll both be alright – we just have to get through this.”

taglist OPEN: @sixeyesgojo @bongofrito @7tsumurai @aphnyoturkey​ @stuckindreamland06​ @dogsarenyspiritanimal​ @thebeardedmoon​ @lildreamer93​ @pizzaspirits​ @q-the-rockaholic​ @rogueofbullshit​ @ladywaifuuwrites​ @flochsgirl​ @hamsa-mage @sonic-and-songs​ @vsvwi @misslovingpearl | bolded users can’t be tagged 

[astronomoney]

IDK if you're still taking requests or not, but the latest fix on D. Wayne was 😍🥰. For part 2 can you add the prompts 11 from fluff, 6 from angst and 20 from neutral pretty please?🥺🥺

Pairing: Damian Wayne x fem!reader (age 16ish)

Prompts: Prompt list ☁︎11- “Hey hey hey, it’s ok i’m here. It’s just me ok, you’re safe.” ᜊ6- “I don’t care about you anymore.” “i’m starting to think you never did.” ⚛︎20-“Please be quite, i can’t even hear myself losing my will to live.”

Summary: After the fight you had with Damian things have been tense but sometimes bottling up your emotions only make things worse (i can’t do summary’s to save my life) enemies-to-lovers because i’m a sucker for that shit

Warnings: Blood, swearing, kinda character death i guess, Damian being a dick as always, angsty teens being angsty teens

A/n: this is a part 2 but you can find part 1 here once again this took waaaay to long to write literally i could not figure out what to do but whatever because i did it and i’m proud of myself for it (Masterlist)

Word count: 3k jeez these are getting longer

Tag list: @battlenix @pleasestophoney wow look at that multiple tags

Part 1

Love and War pt2

Spending spring break in Wayne manor had its ups and downs. Ups included a huge library in the south wing, delicious homemade meals every day, and the best water pressure you’d ever experienced. The downs included 8 hours of training daily, getting lost while trying to find a bathroom, and having to spend way too much time with your arch enemy.

Technically he's not your enemy. At least he’s not supposed to be. After the fight you had last week you couldn’t be sure. You’d had fights with Damian before but this felt different. Usually after a fight he'd sulk for a few hours but then it would go back to normal, but this time it didn’t go back to normal. Damian had been avoiding you for almost 8 days.

You knew the fight ended too soon and you both had more to say but if he was going to act like a child and ignore you then you weren't going to stop him. You still had to patrol with him but it was considerably quieter. The manor was big enough for the both of you and after a few days you'd figured out his schedule and how to get around him. Tim let you train with him, so as long as you stayed on your side of the gym and Damian stayed on his you didn't have to interact with him at all.

It wasn't until the 4th day of break that you had to talk to him. Bruce had to go meet with the league for the day so training ended early. You had a couple hours before dinner and decided reading would be the best use of that time. You walked down one of the many hallways lazily dragging your hand along the wall until you reached a door. You couldn't remember exactly where you were but you were about 75% sure there was a couch in this room, so you pushed the door open.

Inside you found tall ceilings paired with dark wallpaper, a tall window with the thin white curtains pushed out of the way, and a couch. Actually it was three couches but after 4 days staying here you'd gotten used to the large number of furniture that was there for no reason.

The couches formed a square with the open side facing the window lined wall. The first two couches were empty but when you stepped farther inside the room you saw someone sitting on the third one. Of course the one room you picked to go into also happened to be the one room Damian was sitting in. He looked up from his sketchbook and immediately frowned.

There were two options in front of you. You could back out of the room and leave him be but then you'd be backing down from something that might not even turn into a fight which made you seem weak so really you were left with only one choice. You straighten your back and closed the door behind you, officially leaving you in a room alone with Damian for the first time since the fight. You walked over to the couch facing the windows head on and sat down on the side farthest from him. He watched you the whole time but you paid him no attention, instead you simply opened your book and began reading.

You felt his eyes leave your form and you let out a quiet breath. You heard a page turn and a  pencil being dragged lightly across paper. It had been over a week but nothing seemed to be getting better between you and him. Patrols were a nightmare beforehand but now that he'd switched from constant criticism to almost no comments you found that you preferred the former.

Damian's pencil against the paper was the only sound in the room and yet the silence seemed so loud. You hated it. You hated having to avoid him all the time. You hated not being able to talk to him anymore. You hated how far away he felt even when he was right next to you. Above all you hated that you didn't hate him as much as you used to.

You never realized how much you talked to him until you didn't. It was a weird feeling to miss someone when you hadn't even known you cared about them. You honestly just wanted to apologize and let things get back to normal but as you sat there staring at your book you couldn't bring yourself to say anything.

After three to many nightmares where Damian got hurt, you finally realized how badly you needed him back. So you took a deep breath, swallowed your pride, opened your mouth, and prayed to god that something would come out.

"Look-"

"Damian-" you both spoke at the same time. "Sorry, you go first." You apologized.

"No you can go first." He replied almost nervously. That couldn't be right, he never got nervous.

"Uh I was just going to say, well i've been thinking lately,"

"You?" He asked sarcastically.

"Oh haha really funny. Will you just listen for a goddamn second." He was not making this easy. "I know we haven't been talking much ever since, well you know and uhh." You couldn't find the right way to word it. You were still too stubborn to outright apologize but you knew he would never say sorry unprompted. "You've just seemed... off, lately and if it has something to do with me-"

"It doesn't." He cut you off. "I'm not 'off' and even if I was you definitely wouldn't be the cause." His expression was blank but calculated.

"Well jeez you don't have to be so rude about it." You sneered back at him. "What were you trying to say anyway." So much for your apology.

"I've convinced father to change our partners." His voice was flat and he seemed bored with the conversation.

"You what?" You stood up. You couldn't believe he actually did that without talking to you first.

He stood up as well and was a few inches higher than you. "We don't work well together, you can't tell me you don't agree."

"I don't! We've been a great team! Remember the Penguin pen raid or Mr Freeze's death ray thingy." you exaggerated your point by waving our hands through the air. "We stopped those. Together. You can't just go around changing things without asking me first!" You were fuming.

"Sure I can! We only stopped those villains because of what I did, you just got in the way." he pointed at you.

Here we go again, the blame game. The endless cycle of 'he did this she did that'. You were so sick of it. "That's bullshit and you know it. I can hold my own on the field just as well as you can. And you know what! I don't even want to be your partner anymore."

"Neither do I! You can go play hero with someone else while I do all the real work. I never wanted you on the team in the first place!" He stared you down and if you weren't so fired up you'd probably be intimidated.

"God you're so annoying!” You threw your hands up in frustration. “You think you're so great and no one can even come close to you but in reality you're exactly like the rest of us!"

What were you doing? This wasn't what you wanted. You wanted to apologize and make things right but now here you were screaming at him again. You almost couldn't help it. Fighting him gave you a sort of rush that you craved. It was like a drug and you were addicted to the pain. You didn't want to fight him but it was the closest thing to a conversation you'd had in over a week and at this point it was enough to satisfy your need.

"I'm going to prove that i'm better than you. I'll do it on my own too!" You told him.

"Go ahead and try! You can do whatever you want because I don't care about you anymore."

You stepped back, stood as tall as you could without going on your tiptoes and took a breath. "I'm starting to think you never did." You said calmly, it seemed to catch him off guard and he didn't retaliate. You grabbed your book and turned towards the door. Dick was standing there, completely still and staring at you and Damian.

"Woah." He said awkwardly. He clearly didn't know how to handle the situation he'd just stumbled on.

You pushed past him and into the hallway. Tears were building up in the corners of your eyes so you had to move fast, the last thing you needed right now was for them to see you cry. 

Damian watched you walk out before turning around and groaning. "I can't believe her," he muttered to himself. "I'm starting to think you never did. That doesn't even make sense."

"Because... you do care about her?" Dick asked. It probably wasn't the best choice of words.

Damian looked back at him with an almost offended expression. "That's ridiculous! I don't care about her, that was basically the whole point of our conversation."

"Was that a conversation? The part of that 'conversation' I saw seemed more like her yelling at you and then you... yelling back." He stated the obvious.

"That was completely her fault," Damian defended. He seemed angry but it wasn't his usual kind. Usually it was directed at someone or something and usually that thing would get acquainted with his katana but this time he was mad at himself and he couldn't understand why. "I don't care about her." He repeated quietly almost trying to remind himself more than anything.

You spent the rest of the day hiding in the guest room. You planned on staying there forever and letting yourself fade out of existence but the universe had other plans. 3 hours, 5 episodes of your favorite show, and a nest made of blankets later you got a call from Tim asking you to come to the cave.

He didn't tell you why he needed you, he just said to meet him in the lower level of the cave so when you got there you were very surprised to find him and Damian standing in the hallway. You groaned internally and considered turning around and just walking away but Tim spotted you before you could. Damian's back was to you so he didn't know who it was until he turned around and you saw his face fall.

'Nice to see you too asshole' You thought to yourself, walking over to stand near him but still keeping your distance. "What did you need?" You asked, wanting to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. You kept your eyes ahead trying not to look at Damian and you had the feeling he was doing the same.

The entire mood of the dimly lit hallway had shifted from the moment you locked eyes with him and the tension was noticeable. Tim looked between the two of you before clearing his throat and bringing the attention back to him. "I actually don't need anything."

"So then why did you call telling me to come down here?" Damian asked, clearly annoyed that Tim was wasting his time.

Tim smirked in response and opened the door before Jason, who was behind you apparently, pushed you both into the room before either of you could react. You landed on top of Damian with a grunt. Once you realized you were on top of him you felt your cheeks turn red and you stood up quickly. You could have sworn you saw the slightest bit of a blush on him but you were too preoccupied with the now locked door to think about too much.

"Ok love birds here's the deal, you're petty hormone fueled fighting is driving us crazy and now we're doing something about it." Jason told you from the other side of the small glass window. "We said you were gonna lock you in a room until you figured out how to get along and now we're following through." he smirked.

"I swear to god if you lock me in this room with him,"  you motioned towards Damian, "I will drop kick you into the sun."

"If you let us out now maybe I won't kill you," Damian threatened alongside you.

"Maybe if you’d learned to talk to each other like normal people you wouldn’t be here in the first place," Tim said. "We'll be back after patrol so you've got about," he looked at his watchless wrist "4ish hours. Have fun." And with that they both walked away.

"DON'T YOU DARE WALK AWA- and they're gone. Dammit." You cursed and hit the steel door which hurt a lot more than you thought it would. "Shit," You shook your hand.

"Well that was just stupid," Damian scoffed at you, taking your hand to examine it. He always did that sort of thing on patrol so you didn't pull away or even really register what he was doing.

"Oh i'm sorry, is my frustration not smart enough for you?" you sneered back. "What even is this place anyway," You looked around the small dark room, determined to not look him in the eyes.

"A containment cell for metas, we haven't used it for a while so the power blockers are probably turned off." he told you before releasing your hand. "You definitely bruised it but you'll be fine."

You reluctantly thanked him and turned back to the door to see if you could get it open somehow. "Ok so how do we get out?"

"We don't."

You flipped around, surprised to hear him give up without even trying. "You're kidding right? There's gotta be some way out of here. We're superheros, a few walls can't hold us,” you exclaimed. “Can't you use those ninja skills you're so proud of and like... kick it down, or something?" You watched him walk to the back of the small cell and sit down on the floor.

"No," he replied simply. "This room was built to hold the most dangerous people in Gotham and I don't know if you've noticed but we don't have any of our gear." He glared at you and you rolled your eyes.

"So we're just supposed to wait here until they get back? We can't just sit here all night," You tried to convince him to do... anything really.

"Well if you're so keen on getting out then let's hear your genius plan," He leaned forward with all the smugness of billionaires son, daring you to say something.  "That's what I thought. Now will you please be quiet, I can't even hear myself losing my will to live."

"Fine whatever we'll just stay here in complete silence," You muttered sarcastically under your breath. Damian remained quiet as you started pacing back and forth but you could tell he was watching you.

After pacing for about 30 minutes you realized how tired you were from training so hard the past couple of days and sat down in the corner. You spent so much time over the last week worrying about Damian that you hadn't let yourself relax long enough to get any real rest. The little sleep you did manage to get mostly turned to nightmares.

At first you didn't even realize you were asleep. It all looked real enough except for the fact that you'd somehow been transported to a rooftop. You scanned your surroundings but everything was just slightly out of focus so you couldn't tell exactly where you were. When you turned around you saw him. Damian was there, and behind him was a shadowy sort of silhouette.

The shadow raised a knife and you realized what was happening. You tried to warn him, you tried to scream or yell or move but it was no use. The knife plunged into Damians back and you were helpless to stop it. You felt the pain he felt, you felt the blade slice through you. Finally you could move again but it was too late. The shadow disappeared but you didn't care about it, all you wanted to do was get to Damian. You ran forward but it was like running through water, your body moved in slow motion and you watched the blood start to pool underneath him.

Suddenly you were falling. Damian was gone, the roof was gone, everything was gone, it was just you and a black abyss trying to swallow you up. You screamed again but no noise came out, it was like all the air was being sucked from your lungs. It was silent and dark and empty nothingness until you saw a faint light. Then you heard something, your name being repeated, someone calling you and then you were pulled out of the void.

You shot up and gasped for air and frantically looked around but your eyes hadn't adjusted to the light yet. You heard a familiar soothing voice pulled you farther out of your trance.

"Hey hey hey, it's ok i'm here." The voice was calm and concerned at the same time. "It's just me ok, you're safe," Rough hands gently turned your head and the first thing you saw clearly was a pair of worried green eyes. You're breathing slowed and you're heart nearly skipped a beat.

Wrapping your arms around his chest you pulled him closer. He hesitated for a moment before folding you into his embrace. It was soft and delicate and it seemed like he was scared of holding you too tightly. Neither of you said anything else, you just sat there on the floor of a meta containment cell in each other's arms.

Time stood still and you finally admitted the truth to yourself. The real reason you hated Damian was because you loved him.

A/n: might fuck around and make a part 3 with the classic “because i love you!” confession scene

[ramp-it-up]

Fine

Pairing: Rafel Casal x Reader

Word count: 2Kish.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI, CURATE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE! Dark Dom!Rafa, Daveed dancing, drinking, cursing, angst, possessiveness, ex sex, face slapping, bathroom sex, fingering, oral (f receiving) clit slapping, orgasm denial, bdsm, binding, lashing, gagging oral (m receiving).

Summary: You didn’t need Rafa anymore. You were just fine without him.

A/N: This is a little dark. I think I’ve used this pic of Rafa before, but it’s perfect for this fic. And btw, I’m on my Rafael Santiago Casal Bullshit. Watch out.

-----------

It had been 84 days and you were perfectly fine.

Out with your girls, you were wearing your freakum dress, getting plenty of attention and drinks.

You were fine.

So fine, that you were debating on which fine man to go home with. You surveyed the room for your pick. They’d all bought you a drink. You were polite, drank with them and told them you’d get back with them. You were trying to decide.

The chocolate one with the light eyes and the razor sharp fade?

The light skin with the gap teeth and hella swag?

The beefy blonde with the buzz cut?

You downed your fifth drink and moved towards those pretty gap teeth and swag.

Someone tall stepped in front of your 5” 6” frame in heels. You zigged and they zagged, blocking you from your goal.

You sighed and looked up at them, ready to politely ask that they move or cuss them out. It just depended on how their face made you feel.

You looked up to see Daveed and you squealed.

“DIGGS! HOLY FUCK IS THAT YOUUUU????”

He smiled and laughed at you.

“The one and only. What’s crackin’ girl?” He leaned back and surveyed your form in the dress.

“Damn! You’re still fine as hell!” He was shaking his head.

You threw yourself at him, your short body almost knocking his big lanky ass over with your over zealous buzzness. He laughed and hugged you more, leading you away from the bar.

“Where’s my girl?” You looked around for Daveed’s other half.

“She’s across country at a gig. I miss my Lady.” Daveed’s pout was adorable.

“Awwww, po baby. I’m gonna have to tell her to give you some electronic lovin.’” You started to pull out your phone.

“Oh, don’t bother. She already knows what’s up. Come dance with me.”

Daveed had turned into Mr. Smiley, and as usual, you couldn’t resist him. But you loved to tease.

“Boy, you know you can’t dance.”

“Fuck you mean????” Daveed started doing a very ugly robot.

“Fine! Let’s dance, ugh!”

You groaned and grabbed his hand to pull him out on the floor before he could embarrass himself, and you, any further.

Y’all had a ball, laughing and trying to talk to each other over the loud music, Daveed white girl dancing and you trying to teach him some moves.

After about four songs, the music turned slow and you two stood there awkwardly.

“Well, I guess I’ll go….”

You looked around to see if High Yella was still around.

Daveed’s eyes were above your head and the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

“May I have this dance?”

FUCK fuck fuck fuck fuck.

You turned around, and came face to face with Rafael Casal. Damn he was so fine.

You cocked your hip and crossed your arms, and glared up at him, mad because you felt like this was a trap.

Rafa stared at your pushed up breasts in the dress and your nipples pebbled as he licked his lips wolfishly.

You avoided the memories of Rafael’s excellent nipple play looked back at Daveed for rescue to see that Rafa’s wingman had suddenly disappeared.

You turned your head back to Rafa, the swivel in your neck obvious.

“I should have known that you would be lurking around here somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, super annoyed and full of attitude.

And that’s why Rafa’s dick was on hard. He needed to give you some act right.

He’d watched you promise your body to every dude in the place with that fucking dress and lead them on. He needed to remind you whose it was.

Fuck that he’d given you the ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ months ago.

You belonged to him.

“I don’t lurk, Sweet Pea, I flow. And yeah, you know Diggs is the Yin to my Yang, and vice versa.”

Rafa was speaking low enough that you had to lean in, and you caught his scent. Fuck if you weren’t thrown back 83 days to the last time you’d let him take you apart and literally screw you back together.

That dick was an artistic masterpiece, just like everything about Rafael Casal.

But you were fine.

“You have some nerve, calling me Sweet Pea. Fuck you, Santiago.”

You were heated, and maybe it’s because you wanted some act right. You cursed your pussy’s muscle memory and the five drinks you had that were making you weak for him. Because other than that, you’d be fine.

“Maybe later.” He smirked at you, so damn cocky.

“So, are you gonna stand in the middle of the dance floor and cuss me out, or are you gonna move to the music with me?”

Rafa held out his arms and you looked around, pretending that you didn’t want to be encircled by them again. But you couldn’t be rude, right?

You stepped to him and he put his hands around your waist and crossed them behind you, pulling you flush to him. You stared at his lips as you felt him look down at you.

You didn’t dare look into his eyes, but this view was making you remember what that mouth do.

Shit.

Rafa cleared his throat.

“So, how have you been?”

You looked over his shoulder to the speakers on the stage.

“These past three months have been fine, just fine, Rafael. My life is so zen now. I’m happy.”

“Not quite three months, Sweet Pea. 83 days and 14 hours. And I’ve missed you like crazy.”

You looked up into his eyes when he said that. Oh, hell.

“Oh. Did you now?” You were hot.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you broke up with me the morning after you fucked me goodbye, you self centered narcissist asshole.”

You tried to leave his embrace, but Rafa slid his hands around to hold you fast, thumbs digging into your hip bones, hurting you. At the same time, his grip caused you to feel his desire pressed against your stomach.

You gasped and slapped his face. Hard.

You two stared at each other on the dance floor for a full ten seconds which seemed like forever.

The next thing you knew, you were being pushed up against the stall in the bathroom, the act of Rafa pulling you in there a total blur.

It always started like this, rough, fast, and hot.

Rafa’s hands were under the hem of your dress, dragging it up so that he could grab your panties and pull them down.

“You seem to have forgotten lesson number one. Whose pussy is this, Sweet Pea?”

You refused to answer and closed your eyes, memories of him seducing you just by teaching your fucking Poetry 201 course years ago flooding your brain.

He shook his head and knelt on the filthy floor as he removed and pocketed your thong.

“You prolonging your submission just prolongs the punishment, Sweet Pea. Is that what you need tonight?”

He licked a stripe up your leg and slung it on his shoulder, rutting into your pussy with his mouth.

Your protest at him stealing your clothing died on your lips and was replaced by a moan as Rafael’s skillful tongue started to swirl around your clit, while his fingers came up to roughly finger fuck your cunt.

“Damn, Rafa.”

You moaned and pulled his hair as his other hand came up to try and still your squirming on his face.

“Shut up and stay still, damnit.”

He spoke to you through your pussy, and your eyes rolled back in your head as the vibrations drove you crazy.

You tugged harder on his hair, which made him graze your clit with his teeth. Then, he laved it with his tongue and leaned back to look at it adoringly and then up at you.

You stared down at him, and watched his face glisten with your arousal. Then you caught his look. He sighed at your insolence.

“Fine. You know the drill. This is going to be payback.”

Before you could move, Rafa reached up and lovingly swirled three fingers around and around your clit, then slapped it three times.

You screamed, thankful that the club music was back to a loud cacophony.

He looked at you again, smiling that fucking smile.

“You wanna cum all over my face, Sweet Pea? Want me to make you unravel right here?”

You refused to answer him, but you both knew what was up. Rafa just chuckled at you, and leaned back in to devastate you with his mouth.

He flattened his tongue and took wide, languid strokes against your clitoris, keeping eye contact with you.

You were on fire, all nerves alive and reacting to what he was doing. He inserted two fingers inside you and curled them so precisely to that spot that always made you wonder if he was present at the engineering of your pussy.

You quivered, eyes squeezed shut and tears eaking out, so close to doing what he’d asked you about and bracing for it. Your muscles were taught, your feet were on tiptoe, even further than your 5 inch heels required, and you were holding your breath.

As soon as you felt you were about to gush into his mouth, suddenly, his warm tongue was replaced with cool air, and his fingers withdrew from your cunt.

“Arrghhhh! Cash! Fucking hell????”

He stood up, licking his fingers as he turned away from you, washed his hands and face, and used the water on them for his hair.

You were quivering with rage and desire. As you fixed your mouth to cuss him out, he spoke, calmly.

“You better not fucking move until I’m done.”

Rafa’s ice blue/green eyes in the mirror, and the tone, made you stand stock still, your dress still around your waist. Your pussy throbbed with excitement.

He finished the swoop, then turned back around to you, straightened your panties and pulled your dress down.

Then, he grabbed your face, pushing you against the stall again. His voice was menacing and cold.

“That’s just the beginning of your punishment for slapping me out there.”

You were dripping on the floor now. You wanted to hear what was next, despite yourself. No one could destroy and put you back together as eloquently as Rafael could.

Fuck, how you’d missed it. You were so wound up.

“If you want me to finish it, you know what to do. If you’re done…”

His eyes took in your face. So fucking beautiful.

“Well, goodbye Sweet Pea.”

He leaned in, and gave you a kiss, releasing your face and his hold on you. You moaned a little and put your arms around his neck, reveling in the tenderness while wanting the pain.

You whimpered as he pulled away, backed toward the door and walked out.

You went to the sink and put a cold paper towel on your neck, fixing your makeup and hair and getting your mind right.

You looked in the mirror. You were fine. You didn’t need what Rafael Casal had to offer.

You made a decision, straightened up and walked out of the bathroom.

----

An hour and a half later, you were in Rafael’s bedroom, naked on your knees, hands tied around your back, the lashes on your ass throbbing, gagging around his cock and praying that he’d let you breathe before you passed out.

You didn’t need Rafa.

But you wanted him.

And that was more than fine.

———

I hope it was fine for you! 😜

Tagging:

@sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri  @theselilwonders @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @anh1020 @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @delaber @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonybitch @einfachniemand @elocinnicole @mysearchforgratification

[bopbopstyles]

ELEVATED SURFACES

RATING: R/smut (sex, heavy alcohol use, smoking, lots of cursing)

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

CATEGORIES: fratboy!harry

MASTERLIST (check it out for extras) | INSPO TAG | PLAYLIST 

a/n: as a recently graduated srat girl and lover of a good frat party, this one shot was intended to fill the whole in my heart which is LEGIT frat Harry. he is fratty and hot and long haired and a mess. if u like this try out TEMPTATION which is my other frat!h series and the first thing i ever wrote on this gd website (he’s not as fratty but we love him a LOT)

a/n pt.2: as a note, i want to make very clear that frats and greek organizations frequently harbor predators and abusers. i do not in any way condone that behavior or that reality, and i would like to bring attention to a petition to remove a fraterity that had done truly many horrible things--your signature would be a huge help. for survivors of assault, you are not alone, and it is not your fault. 

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

or

Harry is a very fratty frat boy and Y/N is a really good dancer

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“We really should not be still going to our own mixers,” Emily said to you, fluffing her hair and rotating to check her ass in her jeans. You looked up from where you were sitting on your bed, a gin and tonic in one hand to get your blood flowing before the party started. Emily sighed, and then turned from the mirror to you, grabbing the coffee cup that had never seen coffee, just alcohol. “Are people even going?”

You nodded, tossing your phone next to you and leaning against the bed frame. “Alexis is on her way over—she got held up finishing an essay. Maya said she might come, I tried to convince her by promising I’d bring my flask and you’d have your Juul.”

“I swear, she has to just give in and get one of her own.” Emily took a long sip and crossed her arms.

“She claims that will make her addicted.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “She’s already addicted—she uses half my pods and ends up hanging out with whatever guy will let her take a hit. Is it just going to be us and all the new members?”

“No, I think some juniors are going. And definitely the sophomores—they’re all on the little hunt.” You got up, going to your computer to change the song, scrolling through your comprehensive and well-curated pregame playlist. “Plus, who gives a fuck, we’ll only be there for an hour or two for the free alcohol and then we’re hitting the bars.”

“True.” A knock came from the door, and Emily hollered to come in, and Alexis appeared in the doorway, her makeup looking utterly flawless as always. You had always wanted Alexis’s wardrobe and told her constantly, to which Alexis always replied that she wished you were the same size. Unfortunately, Alexis was a solid five inches shorter than you and had a completely different bra size, making sharing quite difficult.  

“Bitches, I brought tequila!” Alexis swung into the room in a cloud of perfume, and threw her arms around you and Emily’s shoulders. “Come on, we need to get tipsy before we get to this mixer. Nick already texted me making sure I was coming.”

“Grab the shot glasses,” You replied, nodding to the makeshift bar cart in the corner, which as laden with glasses of all kinds and all your alcohol. “Are you hooking up with him tonight?”

Alexis shrugged, pulling her tequila from her bag and setting it on your desk before turning and going for the shot glasses. “Probably. I don’t know, he’s been weird lately—we hooked up on Monday night, but then he got all weird and left like immediately after and hasn’t texted me since. Barely acknowledged me when we saw each other in the library.”

“Was the sex weird?” Emily asked, unscrewing the top on the tequila so she could pour.

“Yeah,” Alexis replied, holding the glasses steady while Emily poured. “Like weirdly…intense? I let him come inside me which was probably a stupid idea, but I’m on the IUD so we should be all good. And then I offered to let him stay and he just got all flustered and said he had to go.”

You took your full shot glass, and you all clinked before tossing them back, the alcohol burning on your throat.  You hated tequila shots but Alexis loved them, and you did admit they did their job. “Do you think he’s caught feelings?”

Alexis’s eyes widened. She had been pining after Nick for ages, his tall basketball stature and surprisingly good fashion sense a dime a dozen. Much less, apparently the sex was insane, so what wasn’t to like? “You think? I thought it might’ve not been his vibe.”

Emily grabbed the bottle. “Another?” You all nodded, and she poured again, The Weeknd crooning in the background. “Just see what happens tonight, feel out what his vibe his.”

“Good idea.” You slammed back another shot, hissing before setting down the glass. “Okay, that’s enough tequila or you two are going to be carrying me home tonight.”

Emily and Alexis laughed, before taking seats on your bed, continuing to chatter about the night ahead. It was a Friday, your favorite night because it was usually just mixers, no general parties, which as a senior you had grown to despise. The fighting for watered down alcohol, packed bodies and horrific gender ratio was simply no longer something you had the energy to deal with. Mixers were your preferred zone, filled with your sorority sisters who you adored, the opportunity to actually hang out with the frat brothers whose presence you enjoyed, and usually pong. Sometimes they even let you DJ because you had the best party playlists. The president of Sig Ep had actually asked for the link one time and you’d heard they used it sometimes when the brothers didn’t want to man the computer anymore.

You surveyed your outfit in your narrow mirror, the black denim jeans and simple white tank that showed a bit of stomach and your tan you’d worked hard on during your winter escape to the Caribbean with your lineage. It was simple, yet it suited your needs—after three and a half years of college parties, you had discovered getting dressed up for frat parties was a useless activity, since your clothes would get drenched in jungle juice and sweat anyways. You left your best outfits for Saturday nights spent clubbing downtown.

If you were being honest, the whole reason you were going tonight was because at the last mixer you’d had with Beta, you’d turned around on the dance floor to find Harry’s eyes on you. You were already dancing with another one of the brothers and ended up making out with him in a corner until you got bored, but you hadn’t been able to get the sight of his eyes on you out of your head.

You’d known Harry since freshman year, your interactions limited mostly to mixers and the occasional run-in in the dining halls when you exchanged pleasantries, or the one time he’d volunteered for a karaoke team for your sorority philanthropy event and you’d been in charge of his team. But the two of you had rarely ever spent time together.  That didn’t mean you hadn’t had a lingering crush on him since you’d first laid eyes on him, though, and over the years he’d only gotten more attracted. A body that filled out his white t-shirts and black jeans, hair long and sweeping his shoulders to where he wore it in a bun most times, a jaw that could cut glass. He was hot and he knew it, as did everyone else on campus.

As juniors you had both been on the executive boards of your respective Greek organizations and had ended up in meetings together about housing violations and social calendars, but it hadn’t ever led to much more than you both complaining about how fucking annoying FIJI and their insistent requests for a house was, considering they’d trashed their last one. But this year, you’d found his eyes on you multiple times, and you wondered if perhaps your time had arrived. You’d both always danced around each other and you were curious after all these years if he was finally interested in hooking up. Not that you really expected much more, or were looking for much else—you were a senior, after all, and you were enjoying it.

“Y/N.” Alexis’s voice ripped you from your musings over Harry, her fingers snapping from her spot on your bed. “What’s got you thinking hard over there?”

“Harry?” Emily guessed, one eyebrow raising. “Emmett said he’ll be there tonight.”

“He’s always there,” you replied, because he was. Like you, he seemed to enjoy the mixers, but usually avoided the open parties unless he was on door duty.

“You’d hook up with him, right?”

You looked at Alexis. “Obviously. He’s so fucking hot.”

She laughed, as did Emily. “Then go for it, girl. It’s not like he’ll say no.”

You shrugged. “He might. Never know.”

“I seriously doubt that. You look hot as fuck, as usual, and are the life of the party. Beta adores you. They literally asked you to move in this year when they had an open spot.”

“It was a joke,” you reminded them, because it was—you wouldn’t ever be allowed to live in the house and they knew that. It was true though, you had become a bit of a groupie over the past few years, preferring the more laid back vibe in their house. You’d become friends with all the senior guys, except the weird or obnoxious ones, and had become a regular invite to Bachelor Monday watch parties in their second floor living room. You brought snacks and your friends, they provided the booze and the cable.

“Still,” Emily said, nudging you the toe of her black booties. “Don’t sell yourself short, babes. He is missing a brain if he’s not interested in you.”

“And seriously missing out,” Alexis added. You shot her a look, but she just chuckled. “Bitch, I lived next door to you last year. You are loud.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, laughing, but she was right. You were. Guys had told you on countless occasions, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to care all that much. “Come on, we should go. Maya is texting me asking when we’re leaving.”

“Do you have your cigs?”  Alexis asks you, downing the rest of the drink she’d made while you had been staring into space.

It was your vice, one you had picked up during a semester abroad and only did when you were drunk. You knew you should stop, but something about it made you feel powerful, a bit badass, so you kept doing it. “Obviously. Emmett will have a fit if I don’t.” You swiped your pack from your desk drawer and your trusty pale blue lighter, and shoved them into the pocket of your jacket. With one last swig of your drink, your veins buzzing with alcohol just the right amount, the three of you were off, singing an old Hannah Montana song in the elevator down to the lobby of your dorm.

One of the pledges was working the door, but happily let you three into the frat house. The lights on the main floor were off, except for the ones in the front study that doubled as a coat room, where you tied the arms of your jackets together and set them in the corner so you didn’t lose them. Your cigs were transferred to your back pocket, and you just prayed you didn’t forget they were there and crush them again.  

Josephine and another junior were the sober sisters, and offered you three hugs before checking your names off the list. You got positive points for being there, as if that was the main reason you had shown up.

“Emmett!” Emily called, and the blond-headed boy’s head flipped up from where he was standing behind the bar. A Gatorade water cooler was sitting on the high bar, stacks of red solo cups and boxes of white claws and beers sitting on top of one another.

Aka, your happy place. “He’s bartending, thank god,” you said, and grabbed Emily and Alexis, weaving through the crowd. Girls stopped you all as you moved, hugs and squeals at your appearance. You had to admit, you were popular in your sorority, but mainly because you had made it your mission to get your money worth. As a result of your exec position, you’d gotten to know the sophomore member class and you adored them all, chaotic messes who always turned up with you and made you laugh hysterically. Honestly, you were sad to graduate because it meant leaving behind so many fun friends and memories.

“We’ve been waiting for you three,” Emmett said when you arrived in front of him. He was wearing the frat’s homecoming shirt from the previous year and his eyes were dilated, obvious that he had smoked before. “What are we drinking?”

“What’s the mix?” You asked, pointing to the cooler.

He grabbed three cups, knowing you would be taking it. “Shit ton of vodka, Kool Aid, water, the usual.”

“My favorite,” you replied, blowing him a kiss. “How is it downstairs?”

He filled the cups and handed them to you all. “They just wrapped up pong so it’s still getting moving.”

Alexis took a long sip before grabbing your hand. “Sounds like we need to get people dancing.” With that she turned around, her long slick black hair moving in a circle. “Let’s dance!” She called, and the girls around you cheered, following the three of you down the slippery steps to the basement.

Downstairs, The Motto was playing and you bobbed your head along with the beat, moving your hips as you entered the large basement space. It was dark except for a glowing sign with the Beta letters in narrow neon lights, casting the room with a tint of green. Your battered frat shoes, an old pair of white Vans, stuck against the beer and jungle juice-covered floor as you made your way to the middle. A couple of other girls and brothers were scattered around the floor, and you broke from Emily and Alexis’s hands as you twirled on the floor.  

You raised your cup above your head and started dancing, rapping the lyrics by heart, moving your hands and hips along with the song. Emily and Alexis sang along with you and some of the younger girls showed up, then some other seniors who shared your love for frat parties. All of a sudden your little was screaming and running towards you, Mallory’s arms wrapping around your waist.

“Oh my fuck god, MOM,” she screamed, using the nickname she’d had for you since you’d taken her as your little two years ago. You laughed and threw your arm around her shoulders, screaming the lyrics. There was a specific reason you had taken Mallory as your little, and it was because she lost her shit at parties just as much as you did. You two were a dynamic duo like no other, and if your grand little didn’t have a huge exam on Monday, she’d be here too and you would all be dancing together as usual.

You downed your jungle juice, the sugary drink combined with the loud music blasting and your friends making your adrenaline kick into high gear. And then Maya appeared, arms waving like crazy, and then she dropped it low and you remembered why you adored her, even if she always stole Emily’s Juul. She had a beer in one hand and a white claw in the other, ready for the night ahead.

Then Emmett appeared, trailed by some of the other brothers in tank tops and t-shirts, one carrying a six pack on his shoulder and handing out warm beers to the brothers he passed. Emmett beelined for Emily, his arm thrown around her shoulder, their completely platonic friendship on show for everyone. The song ended and you took a breath, crushing your cup and tossing it into the corner so you could have your hands free. Emily pulled her Juul free and took a hit, passing it to Maya next without a question between them.

The opening notes of Come Get Her started and you immediately grabbed Alexis and Emily, beelining for the bar that the speakers rested on, something you weren’t even sure how it got there, but it was your favorite elevated surface of all time. Wide enough to dance, tall enough to be high but not too high where you couldn’t mostly stand. You clamored up, coming to nearly full height and turning to your friends.

“Somebody come get her, she’s dancing like a stripper!” You screamed, your friends coming in a circle in front of the three of you, some other girls getting up on the bar. When the line came through again, you decided fuck it, and you dropped your ass low, bending your knees and tipping your head back.

When you danced, you didn’t give a single fuck about impressing guys or any of that. You just simply loved to dance with your friends, move your hips, and didn’t care what you looked like. Mallory screamed when you got low, your name falling from her lips in a squeal of joy.

As you rose up, your eyes locked on a figure in the doorway of the basement. His long hair was loose, curls that had been pulled out from the hair tie he always had on his wrist, a tight white shirt that you knew meant all of his tattoos were on display. Harry was watching you, you realized as you twisted your hips and bounced your arms up and down with the beat, singing the words. So you kept his gaze, and just to taunt him, when the chorus hit again, you dropped down, ass hitting your heels, eyes on his the whole time.

That had him moving. He joined a circle where Emmett and some other senior guys were dancing with some other girls, beers in hand as they shifted back and forth. But you knew what would have them all actually dancing and screaming and jumping along with you. You needed to see Harry like that—loose and free. So you turned around and grabbed the attention of the sophomore on aux, his name something along the lines of Justin, and screamed your song choice to him. He gave you a thumbs up, and then you turned back around. Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck, and you rolled it into a loose, high bun, pulling the elastic on your wrist around it as you swayed to the song.

You could hear the song ending, and with your eyes on Harry, you decided you would get down. He was next to a pledge with a six pack, and you wanted a beer. You were mixing alcohols like nobody’s business tonight, but you’d done worse. You squatted down and kicked your feet out, Mallory’s hand coming out to help you down. “You good?” She asked, leaning in to you.

“Yeah, just hot,” you replied. “Going to get a beer.” She nodded and let you go. There wasn’t a need to watch your friends as much in a normal party, since you knew all the girls here. Maya pulled you in for a hug as you moved, and then the current president called out your name from where she stood with her boyfriend, a white claw in her hand.

Squeezing next to Emmett, you nudged the waist of the pledge next to you. “Can I get one?” You asked, pointing to the beers.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling one from the case and handing it to you. It was a Natty Light, but you really could’ve given fewer fucks—they were a frat after all, they didn’t buy the good stuff.

You popped the tab and took a long swig, the liquid quelling your rough throat from singing. And then, the song changed, and you smiled, eyes meeting Harry’s. You decided you were going to draw him out. “I got hoes, callin’!” You screamed, the song starting the speakers, and the boys all joined in. Fuck it, you thought, and chugged the rest of your beer so that you could jump, your arms outstretched and pumping up and down. Your bun was bouncing on your head and you were grinning, the music flowing through you.

Harry was watching you, his head tapping, hair swishing back and forth. You needed more. So you moved into the center of the circle, knowing the guys would hype you up, and reached for him. “Why aren’t you dancing?” You asked him playfully, and his eyebrow shot up.

“Fuck! Shit! Bitch!” The best lines of the song ran through the speaker and you just grabbed his hand, which was warm, and pulled on him. Suddenly his body was in front of you, close, and you tried to process what your original plan was. But then, Harry started moving, back and forth, head bopping, rapping the lyrics in time, and you knew you had gotten him. “I be ballin’, like a motherfuckin’ pro,” you sang, starting up to jump, and to your surprise, Harry joined you, a carefree expression finally crossing his face. He was screaming the lyrics then, hair bouncing as he moved. He rotated, grabbing the shoulders of another one of the boys, who joined in with him, them screaming the lyrics at each other.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the change in his demeanor so sudden. When the song changed, T-Shirt by Migos coming on, he turned back to you. All of a sudden, his lips were next to your ear and you choked on air. “Fuckin’ love that song,” he said, accent smooth in your ear.

“You and every other frat boy,” you replied, stepping backwards. You had ended up at the side of the circle closer to the wall, and so you moved towards it, freeing yourself from the heavy circle of boys.

The song was slower, not a jumping and dancing song, but one that suggested the slow grinding of hips and closeness of bodies. Which fuck it, you wanted. Desperately. He was looking at you with an intense stare, smile sloppy from alcohol, Harry sweaty on his forehead, arms straining under the fabric of his shirt. He was following you, taking a step away from his friends and following your body as if magnetic. So you just went for it, putting your weight lower, and rolled your hips back and forth to the music.

Mama told me/not to sell work/Seventeen five/same color T-shirt

Your eyes met his, and the shared intensity of his gaze stirred something inside of you. Desire. A need to know what his skin felt like, a desire that had been lingering since you first saw him. Your hands moved on their own, draping over his shoulders, and his hands found the curve of your waist, and suddenly you knew what his skin felt like on yours. They found the bare skin between the hem of your shirt and the top of your jeans, burning your already warm skin.

Justin-something on aux changed the song, deciding that was enough, and then No Role Modelz was on, and you moved, swaying back and forth, your chests coming closer and closer. His face was inches from yours and you wondered what his lips would taste like. The slow rap and smooth feel of the beat had your eyes fluttering shut, mind twirling from the alcohol and the lowlights, the heat of the packed basement. If you didn’t have Harry under your hands, you might have left for a smoke break, an excuse for air. But you weren’t letting go of him anytime soon. So you turned around and when your ass touched his dick you couldn’t help but smile—he was already hard. You felt his arm move and watched him sip his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he drank. You rolled your hips against him and then reached up, grabbing the can and bringing it to your own lips, taking a sip and watching him watch you. The two of you were taunting each other, acting on a feeling that had always been an undercurrent in every one of your interactions, a slight sexual tension that if you pulled on would become taught.

Which as you pressed against him, you fucking yanked on. His free hand clasped around your hip, holding you close and swaying in time with you. You could feel the sweat that had soaked through his t-shirt a bit, but you didn’t care—you  were sweaty yourself, so was everyone in the room. It was part of the appeal, the fact that everyone was a mess and no one cared. He was rock hard between the denim of both of your jeans, and you could feel the power racing through you, the fact that you had him like this going straight to your head.

When Mr. Brightside came on, you decided that was your smoke break time. You couldn’t stand the song after so many years, and the feeling of bodies pressing together as they jumped was too much for you. “I’m going to get some air,” you said, turning around so you could face Harry.

He was so close to you, just inches away, when his tongue licked over his lip. “Can I come with?”

“Sure.” You grabbed his hand as you moved through the crowd, pushing between frat brothers and your sorority sisters who were all dancing together to the song. When you made it through the exit you sighed, the stale air of the stairwell even feeling better than that room.

“Fuck it was hot in there,” Harry said, your hand dropping from his. He followed you up the stairs and you nodded. You pushed open the door and a Doja Cat song was playing, some people upstairs scattered around, drinking and talking, some sitting on couches together. You waved to Maya, who seemed to have also needed a break, and nodded to the door as if to tell her you were getting some air.

“I’m going to smoke if that’s okay,” you told him as you made your way to the door, pulling your cigs and lighter from your back pocket.

He nodded. “Can I bum one?”

You opened the heavy oak door and said hello to the handful of guys sitting on the steps, who were manning the door and making sure no one random got in. “Sure,” you responded to Harry finally, sitting down on the concrete half wall that lined the landing. You could hear the slight thump of the music, but for the most part it was quiet, the the frat house a couple yards away not throwing anything tonight.

Harry leaned against the wall close to you, taking your offered cigarette. You flicked the lighter and raised it to your cigarette, taking a drag when it lit. Then you handed it to Harry, who accepted it gladly, doing the same. The smoke filled your lungs and your drunken mind considered that you should quit, but at the same time, you liked having something to do when you got air, an excuse to be on the steps. One of the other guys asked for one, and you handed one over, making a new friend.

And then you looked back to Harry. “So,” you said, tapping the ash on your cig. “How have you been?”

You hadn’t seen him since your last mixer with Beta, but you two hadn’t talked in ages. “Good,” he replied. “Busy with classes and stuff.”

“What are you studying again?”

“Political science,” he answered, and your eyebrows shot up. You had expected business or economics, like most of the Beta brothers.

“Why poli sci?”

He shrugged, tapping the ash before taking another drag. “Dunno, really. Took a class freshman year and liked it enough.”

“You don’t want to work in politics or something?”

“I don’t really know what I want to do, honestly.”

“You make it sound like that’s unusual,” you tell him. “Most people don’t.”

He chuckles, a low sound from the back of his throat, and you like the sound of it. “I’ll tell my dad that next time we talk.” You could tell there was a story there, but didn’t push. It wasn’t that kind of moment. “What about you?”

“Psych and pre-law,” you reply, the answer rolling off your tongue with ease.

“Oh? What kind of law?”

You took another drag before answering. “Criminal defense, but I want to work with people on death row.”

His eyes widen, just as you expected. It’s the usual response from people. “Fuck, that’s awesome. What made you interested in it?”

“I just got really into true crime when I was in middle school and ended up doing research on the criminal justice system and what a fucking disaster it is. Death sentences and death row especially. So I want to overturn false convictions.”

He puffed a cloud of smoke, and you watched his lips form a circle, a dark pink color that drew you in. “And you said most people don’t know what they want to do.”

A breeze made the hair on your arm hair stand up, and you rubbed the skin to warm up. It was cold tonight. “I’m unusual,” you told him. “Most of my friends have no idea what they’re doing after graduation.”

You had reached the end of your cigarette, so you dropped it to the ground and stamped it out, the combination of the nicotine and alcohol making your head deliciously hazy. “I’m going back in.”

Harry dropped his cigarette too, putting out the bud. “Lead the way.” He swiped his ID card on the door to let you both in, and you held the door for him, the sound of Post Malone sweeping through the house. “Want another drink?”

You mentally considered how drunk you were, came to the conclusion that you could take some more, and nodded. “White claw, please.” If you laid off the jungle juice you would last a bit longer, and you weren’t particularly wanting to get wasted tonight—you wanted to see where this went.

Harry nodded and walked towards the bar, while you turned to the group of girls closest to you, who were drinking juice and chattering amongst themselves. They immediately started asking you about Harry, about what was happening, and you shrugged because you truly didn’t know. “He’s hot,” one of them, a sophomore named Cat said. “You going to go for it?”

“If the opportunity presents itself,” you replied. You weren’t going to push with Harry, the last thing you wanted was to embarrass yourself in front of him. You’d follow his lead, see what he was interested in, matching his flirting and  see where it went. Not to say you weren’t forward, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. “What about you guys?”

Cat launched into an in-depth analysis of the weird flirtation she’d been having with a junior guy in Beta, how they’d hooked up once but not again, but he kept looking at her. You encouraged her to go for it if she wanted, and she grinned, perhaps just needing an extra push. All of a sudden, you felt a hand on your back, and Harry was next to you, a Black Cherry white claw in one hand, a Heineken in the other.

“If I’d know there were Heinekens I would’ve had that,” you told him, accepting your white claw.

His hair fell behind his shoulders when he tipped the beer back. “Most girls don’t like beer.”

“Well you’ve met one now.” You liked messing with him, dropping flirtations into the conversation and pushing buttons. It made him smirk at you and you loved it, the twinkle in his eyes and the pinkness of his lips.

“H.” A guy appeared behind Harry. “We’re out of vodka.”

“How are we out?” He asked, taking another sip of his beer.

The guy, a pledge from the looks of him, grimaced. “Someone took one of the bottles.”

“Fuck,” Harry said with a sigh. “Have one of the other pledges go get more and keep the receipt. Get more claws while you’re out, we’re running low.” With that, he turned back to you, exhaling sharply. The boy disappeared, sensing that was his cue.

Right as you were about to speak, you heard the opening notes of I Love It from downstairs, and you turned to the girls around you. “Downstairs,” you told them, and they all tossed back the rest of their drinks before tossing them into the trash can a few paces away. You opened the door to the basement and then looked back to Harry. “Coming?”

That made him move, following you down into the dark stairwell that smelled of stale beer and sweat. He stayed close to you, and when your foot slipped on a stair he reached out to steady you, a hand to your side that made your body warm with more than just the temperature of the room.  The girls in front of you streamed into the room, screaming the lyrics to the song.

“You’re such a fucking hoe/I love it!” You joined in, laughing at the lyrics in spite of yourself, but the truth is you fucking loved the song. It was absurd and was filthy, but you liked screaming the lyrics in a room with a bunch of your friends.

You twirled around and walked into the room backward, moving your body with the beat, taunting Harry to follow you. Which he did, as if connected to you by a magnet. You could see his lips moving, the lyrics falling from his lips to match you. You stopped moving in the middle of the room and Harry’s hands found your hips. Turning in his hands, a coy smile on your face, you knew what this song was going to involve. Hips moved on their own accord, grinding hard against him. You could feel his breath on your neck, the lyrics I’m a sick fuck/I like a quick fuck/I like my dick sucked/I’ll buy you a sick truck in your ear. Hearing the words on his lips for some reason had your blood pumping,  and you wanted to hear them again on a loop.

His dick was hard against your ass and your hands stretched behind you, finding his hips to hold him close. His head fell to your neck, nosing at your skin, his fingers on the bare skin at your waist clenching. Your hips moved in time  with each other, his body dropping to be at the height as yours, chasing the desire that was running between you. Your head tipped back against his chest and eyes fluttered shut, letting the alcohol in your veins and the music pounding in your ears take over. All you could feel was him, the cut of his body and the strength of his arms next to you, his hips insistently rubbing against yours and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually grind on him.

The song changed, Work Out by J. Cole sounding through the speakers and you pulled away from him and turned to face him. You were going to put on a bit of a show, you decided, because why the fuck not. It was clear at this point that he wanted you as much as you wanted him, so why pretend like anything else was happening?

So when the lyrics Let me see you get/High then go low/Now, girl won't you drop that thing down to the floor? fell through the speakers you dropped to the ground, Harry’s eyes following you came back up slowly, your body just inches from his. His hands fell on your body, grabbing at your waist to keep you close, pressing his hips forward to grind right over the front of your jeans and you panted from both the heat in the room and the pleasure ripping through your body. When the chorus came again, you dropped down, and this time you ran your hands down his legs lightly as you moved, fingers dancing down and then back up the seams of his jeans.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he said and you could barely hear him over the music.

His eyes met yours, searing into yours, a question passing between you. And then you were moving towards each other, an answer to the question in the way your lips met, slotted together and pulled at one another. Your hands were pulling at his shirt, grabbing at the material and the skin underneath, one of his hand holding your head close to his,  the other at your waist. It was fast and messy, your lip pulling on his bottom one, before chasing him, his tongue brushing at the seam of your lips before dipping inside.

Kissing Harry was hot. It was like setting your whole body on fire with desire and you just wanted to know what the rest of him felt like because his lips were sending you to another planet. He tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth and a moan escaped you, desperation clear in your throat. You could feel bodies press around you, the notes of Fire by Louis the Child ringing through the room. When the beat dropped, you knew people were jumping, the guys doing that thing where they slammed into each other like some kind of mosh. But Harry just stayed there, pulling his lips into yours, drawing wet pants from your body. He was holding tight to you as if you were going to slip away, even though that was the last place you wanted to go.

But you decided you wanted to tease him a bit more. Not let him get away, but just…push him a bit. So you drew away, enough to where you could dance, your sorority sisters at your back—you had seen Alexis move behind you. You grinding on her, your asses touching, and you could hear her laughter, before moving against you. It was something you two always did, dancing partners since the moment you met.

“If I go down in flames/The smoke going to spell my name,” you sang.

Harry watched you, his eyes burning a line down your body, the ministrations of your hips against Alexis’s. And then he was moving towards you, his front pressed yours and his lips were at your ear. “Drink?”

You nodded, and let him pull you through the crowd and towards the stairs. People were moving down them and you pressed yourself to the wall to let them pass, before following Harry up the stairs to the main floor. “Is there anything better than that shit?” You asked him when you stood next to him, his arm loosely around your waist, holding you to him.

His gaze drifted to the bar and then back to you. “I’ve got some stuff in my room.”

You knew he lived in the house, the result of being on exec last year and having first dibs after the current exec board was placed, the hierarchy the same as in your own sorority house. “Do you have mixers?” As much as you drank, you still hated drinking most straight alcohol, especially if you were going to be sipping on it. When he nodded, you replied, “Let’s go.”

You caught the eye of Emily who was standing on the other side of the room, watching you, and you pointed upstairs to tell her where you were going. After she gave you a thumbs up, letting you know she’d check in before leaving, a silent conversation well rehearsed over the years, you followed Harry up the stairs. Other guys and girls streamed down them, coming from rooms where they were smoking or using the bathroom or drinking just like you.

“What floor are you on?”  You asked when you passed the first floor, twisting to go up the second flight.

“Third,” he replied, not pausing no the stairs. “It’s quieter.”

That made sense, as you could imagine if he didn’t feel like partying one night it would be kind of hard to avoid. You followed him up, the sound of the music fading as you made your way higher into the frat house. You passed other girls on the way you exchanged hugs and promises to catch up after chapter on Monday night. Finally, you made it to the third floor, and Harry pushed open the door to a room with his name on it.

You followed him in and the first thing you noticed was how much of a boy’s room it was. Messy comforter, clothes on the floor, alcohol bottles lining the window sill, the frat’s flag above his bed. Some posters and photos littered the opposite wall, a single framed photo of what looked like his family on his dresser, along with some random items like cologne and a brush and hair ties. A pair of athletic shoes and boots were shoved into one corner, and a tub of protein powder sat on top of his mini-fridge, along with a stack of solo cups. On his desk was a bong and a couple of lighters, his computer sitting next to it on a charger. The dorm room was narrow, most of it taken up with a double bed that you were a bit confused by, since most rooms just had a single.  

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” he said, shutting the door behind you. If you focused on it, you could hear nerves in his voice, a low laugh in the back of his throat as he surveyed his room. “Didn’t expect to have people up here.”

“It’s fine,” you told him, moving into the middle of the room to get out of the doorway, taking in the space.

“Uh, I’ve got Tito’s, Jack, some gin one of the guys got me.”

It drew you back to the whole reason you were in his room. He was standing next to his mini-fridge, a solo cup in his hand as he looked at you. “What mixers do you have?”

“Coke, juice, and tonic,” he replied. “Sorry, it’s not much.”

You shook your head. “Tito’s and tonic,” you told him. Usually you would’ve been all over the Jack and coke option, but considering how much you’d already drank the last thing you needed was to mix clear and dark liquors.

You watched him pour, leaning against his desk as you waited. He handed you the cup, asking you to try it and tell him if it was too strong. You took a sip and it was strong, but not too much. Then, he made a whiskey and coke you were jealous of, and the two of you stood in his room, not quite sure what to do. You didn’t want to go back down the party, the feeling of fresh air—even though it smelled vaguely like college boy, a mixture of sweat and cologne that you keenly recognized—feeling good on your skin.

“Want to listen to some music?” He asked, moving towards you. There was a bluetooth speaker on his desk, you realized,  and shifted away so he could get at his computer.  

You decided to sit on the bed, thighs resting on the soft comforter. “Sure.” You pulled your cigarettes and lighter from your back pocket, before looking back at him.

He fiddled with the speaker, the sound of it connecting ricocheting in the small room, before clicking keys to wake up his computer. “Any preferences?”

“I’m good with whatever,” you replied. “I like pretty much everything.” It was true, you had everything from country to Top 40s and rap on your Spotify, a variety of playlists to fit the mood.

He pulled on his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger as he perused his Spotify and you tried not to focus on the sight. Low music began to sound in the room and you immediately recognized the beginning notes of Let Her Go by 6LACK,  a smile drifting onto your face. He must have noticed, because he turned around, his cup in his hand. “You like 6LACK?”

“More like obsessed,” you replied and he chuckled.

He sat on the edge of the desk, his knees falling open, his back slumped a bit. “I don’t know a single girl who even knows who he is.”

You took a sip of your drink before replying, resting your body back on one hand. “They must not have good music taste, then.”

Harry gave you a small smile, an edge of playfulness to it. “Where’s home for you?”

“Denver,” you responded. “You?”

“Holmes Chapel.”

“Where’s that?”

He brushed a hand through his hair, the long locks slipping between his fingers and you couldn’t help but wish you were the one doing it. “South of Manchester. It’s a small town, lots of fields and shit like that.”

You’d never been to England so you had no idea of where Manchester was, but you didn’t ask. “Do you like it?”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I don’t want to like, move back or anything. But it’s a good place to go home to.”

Denver felt the same way to you—it was home, but it wasn’t a place you saw a future in. You’d go where law school took you, and then the work, wherever you could make the biggest impact. “Where do you want to go?”

The solo cup hung in his hands, and he twirled it a bit, the rim of the cup pressed between his fingers. “LA, maybe. New York. Not sure, really. London, most likely, unless I can get a job and someone to sponsor my Visa so I can stay.”

“Do you like the states?” You knew you were asking a lot of questions, but you’d never had a conversation like this with him and you were curious. Curious about him, about who he was, underneath all the frat shit that he loved so much.

“It’s different than home,” he replied, and you understood what he meant. “I don’t think I’ll want to be here forever, but it’s good for right now. Got friends here now.”

You took another sip of your drink, and then pushed yourself up, the need to pee suddenly overtaking your body. “Where’s the bathroom?”  

“Down the hall. Make sure you slam on the door before locking it—it got fucked up during homecoming and hasn’t been the same ever since.”

You nodded and took your cup with you, four years of college ingraining some lessons into your bones. Down the hall, you found a blond wood door and a doorknob that was barely attached to the door. You pushed it open and shut it quickly, shoving against it with your shoulder so that you could flip the lock. Inside, you wondered for the millionth time why boys were in capable from having a properly stocked bathroom. Head & Shoulders shampoo littered the floor of the shower,  a flimsy shower curtain that had come free from a couple of the rings. You squatted to pee, grabbing the toilet paper roll that sat on top of the toilet, no one even bothering to properly put it away.

As you peed, you scrolled through your phone. Mallory had texted saying she was going bar hopping with some of her friends and you told her to text you if she needed anything and a heart, before checking her on Find My Friends to see she was, in fact at a bar. Then you texted your group chat with Emily and Alexis and Maya, who had asked how you were doing. You told them you were with Harry and most likely going to be here for a while, which got excited responses and Alexis sent the eggplant emoji, which made you snort. They told you to text you if you ended up staying the night so they could keep track of where you were, which you agree to do.

When you went to wash your hands, you rolled your eyes because of course they couldn’t even buy hand soap. You went to the shower and found a bottle of body wash, and squirted some into your hands before going back to the sink, rinsing them off. Then you looked at your face in the mirror, eyeliner and mascara still in tact, but your hair was a disaster. You pulled the bun free and let your hair tumble down your back, running through it with your fingers to calm the strands that were askew.

Standing the mirror, you had the opportunity to consider your choices. Did you want to hook up with Harry? Yes. That was a clear answer, despite your alcohol-hazed mind. Did he want to? Most likely—every indication had pointed towards yes. So your mind was made up as you pulled the door open and made your way back to his room, your phone tucked into your jeans and solo cup in your hand.

“You guys really need soap.”

He was still sitting on the edge of his desk, scrolling through his phone and sipping on his drink when you came into the room. At the sight of you, he put his phone down. “I know—it’s fucking disgusting. I have my own, though. Sorry for not sharing.”

You set your cup on his dresser, deciding you were done, and moved towards him. “It’s fine. I made do.” His eyes trailed down your front, the sexual tension thick in the room. When he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it, you decided fuck it you were done waiting.

You crossed the space between the two of you in second, slotting yourself between his knees. His hands found your waist immediately, his solo cup moving to rest on the table once your body was pressed to his. Without pausing, you pressed your lips to his, reconnecting them in a fire—you needed him, you wanted him, you craved his hands on your skin. Now that you were alone, it was like you couldn’t hold yourself together and neither could he. His hands moved up and down your back, tugging you into his chest as your hands curled in his long hair. Lips fought for dominance, teeth tugging and tongues pressing for more. When he licked into your mouth a wet moan left your lips and you pressed into the crotch of his pants without even meaning to.

6LACK was still flowing through the speaker, and the smooth RnB just adding to the desire rolling through your body. When his lips dropped to your neck, sucking and biting on your skin, a desperate, filthy noise fell from your mouth and you couldn’t help but smile when Harry grunted into you. “I—fuck,” he mumbled, squeezing at your hips.

Suddenly your clothes were too warm, burning against your skin. You leaned back and pulled at the hem of your tank top, pulling it up over your head and letting it fall to the floor. Harry’s eyes went wide, blown out irises from alcohol and desire criss-crossing over your body. “You can touch me,” you said, confidence coursing through your veins and just desperate for him to do something.

He didn’t hesitate, pulling you back into him and attaching his mouth to the swell of your breast, right above the lace of your bra. Hot breath on your skin had you keening into him, back arching up into his mouth, your fingers tugging into his hair. You loved his hair, having something to hold onto and anchor yourself, and from the pleased hums he liked it too. His hands fumbled with your bra clasp, and when he got it free and pulled the material away, he pulled your nipple into his mouth and you audibly sighed. When he sucked on it, then laved over it with his tongue you couldn’t help but buck into him. You were putty in his arms and he had barely done anything.

Your hands pulled at his shirt, the desire to see his skin overwhelming you. He didn’t make you wait, helping you tug it over his head, and let it drop to the floor. Black ink scattered across his skin, words and images that made a million questions swirl in your mind. The G on his shoulder, the ship on his bicep, the name Jackson scrawled above a rose, the swallows across his collarbones and a butterfly on his stomach. He sat there, chest heaving as he caught his breath and your fingers brushed his skin, curiosity getting the better of you.

“Y/N,” he rasped, “bed?”

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with ease, and he was backing you into it immediately, hands in your hair and lips on yours. Your bare chests touching sent you into overdrive, the brush of your nipples on his warm skin, a sheen of sweat covering both of you from dancing all night.

The comforter was plush underneath your back as you scrambled up the length of his bed, his body following yours immediately. Your legs fell apart so he could fit between you, and when he did, his dick rested right against your clothed clit and it made you gasp. “Feel good?” He mumbled, the words a haze in your ears as he plucked your lips between his.

All you could do was buck up, your knees finding either side of him. You wanted to be on top, to be in control. You wanted to grind on him properly, after waiting for so long. With a hand at his chest, you pushed slightly, enough for him to move back. He must have understood what you wanted because he flopped onto the bed next to you, one hand on either of your thighs and you mounted him, your ass sitting on the top of his thighs.

When you moved your center over his dick, both of you groaned, deep and drawn out, your head thrown back in pleasure. It was bliss, after so much waiting, to finally be able to do this, his hands crawling from your thighs to your hips to hold you in place, exactly where he wanted you. You put your hands on his chest to hold yourself up, and let your hips find a sinful rhythm, one that was making pleasure curl in your stomach. Pants left your mouth, matched by Harry, who was watching you as if you were a fucking art exhibit, eyes trying to take in every inch of you. Fingernails curled into his skin, red marks that you expected to be there tomorrow, when he nudged at your clit, and you rubbed that spot a few more times, his name falling from your lips in a beg. “Harry.”

That had him moving, pulling your lips down to his so he could kiss you again, his fingers cradling the back of your head. It was just rough enough where you were scrambling to catch up and it felt good, that this was consuming every part of your brain. You rolled your hips again, your hands pressing into the pillow under his head. Then, you felt his thighs agains your ass, and he was pushing up into you, making him snugly flush against you, the only thing between you two being your clothes.

Which you wanted off, and wanted off now. You moved back, crawling between his legs, and his eyes followed you, panting as he watched you pop the button on his pants. He lifted his hips to help you and you tugged the tight skinny jeans that showed every inch of his thickness underneath them down his legs. Then, you pulled on his briefs, and he was bare in front of you, exactly as you wanted him. Your jeans were constricting your movement so you turned tot he side, pulling the denim off of your body so you were left in your underwear.

Then you were on him again, but this time, it was your hand on his dick, fingers running up the length of him.

“Fuck,” he said, voice husky in your ears. He was gorgeous underneath you, desperation making his eyebrows crease, his long hair a mess on the pillow. Why had you waited so long to act on this desire? You suddenly couldn’t remember.

He watched you spit onto his most sensitive part, and then slide your hand over him, spreading the moisture. He hissed at the feeling and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long here—he was already hard, his tip red and throbbing. The fact that you had him this turned on and you’d barely done anything made your ego soar, to be honest. You pumped him three times before licking up the underside of him, his hands curling in the comforter, a stream of curses falling from his lips.

When you took him into your mouth, a low, rough grunt filled the room and you smiled. You hollowed your cheeks and immediately took him all the way into your mouth, resisting the urge to gag when he hit the back of your throat. “Shit,” he rasped. “You—shit.”  

You’d done what you were about to give him just a handful of times before, only with people who you knew you would feel pleasure from too when they did it, and trusted. And Harry fit both of those categories, because he could fucking smile and you’d want to fuck him. So you grabbed his hand and placed it on the back of your head, before taking him all the way to the back of your throat. Your mouth was full of him and it felt so good.

“Want me to fuck your mouth?” His eyes were glimmering in the light, completely focused on you. You were happy you had left the lights on, because it meant you could every inch of him, every reaction you drew from him.

In response, you licked at his tip, hoping he knew that meant yes.

He seemed to, because he curled his fingers into your hair and pushed his hips up, his tip hitting your throat immediately. You groaned around his dick and he cursed at the vibrations. Then, he kept his hips on the bed and instead pulled you up and down him, fucking your mouth just as you had wanted. You couldn’t do much from this position, so you focused on inhaling through your nose and running your hands over his skin, scratching at the butterfly on his torso. Leaving reminders of this night, of you, on his body.

“Shit,” he mumbled, pulling you off. “I—I have to stop. But, shit, you feel so good, babe.”

The pet name made you smile, sitting back on your heels to wipe at your mouth, the taste of his salty precum still on your tongue. “Do you have a condom?” You asked, because all that you had done had left you more than ready—you needed him inside of you.

Harry’s eyes went wide and he scrambled up. “Fuck,” he exhaled, grabbing at his desk drawer and pulling it open. Watching him look through his drawers completely naked was, you had to admit, a bit amusing, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. He wrenched another drawer open, tossing the contents about as he looked. Then he sighed, and looked back at you. “I’m out.”

“Go find one,” you told him, leaning back against the wall, letting your knees drop open to show your underwear. You could feel the wet spot on them and you knew he saw it too. “I’ll wait here.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll—yeah I’ll find one.” He pulled on his jeans, not even bothering with his briefs, eyes flickering to you every once and a while. “Shit, I’ll—I’ll be back.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at how flustered he was, pushing open his door and letting it slam shut behind him. Through the door you could hear him knocking on the door next to his, some muffled words, and then him knocking again. He was going fucking door to door looking for a condom, you realized with amusement. Then, the patter of feet on the stairs, and you knew he was going downstairs, that no one else was in their rooms.

While you waited, you grabbed your phone and scrolled through it. Caught up on texts, liked shit on Instagram, checked Snapchat even though you barely used the app. Most people were at bars, as far as you could tell, but it looked like they’d set back up pong downstairs according to Emily’s story.

All of a sudden, feet pounded on the stairs and you knew it was Harry. You pushed your phone back onto the desk, and when the door opened, he was standing there holding probably ten condoms. “How many did you get?”

He looked down at the wad in his hand and visibly blushed. “I—I thought I’d re-stock.”

You let it slide, even though you knew exactly why he got so many. He was hoping you’d have a couple rounds, and  you were not opposed to the idea. “Come here,” you said, and let your legs fall back open.

He was on you in second, his pants kicked down his legs as he moved and you were surprised he didn’t trip. Hands found your skin and he pushed you up the bed, this time he was the one hovering over you, lips drawing eager mewls from you. You pressed your hips into his unclothed erection and he cursed, a grimace crossing his face that you knew was from him restraining himself. “Can I take these off?” He asked, fingers pulling at your underwear.

“Please,” you replied and that made him smile at you. He peeled them down your legs, tossing them to the ground, a forgotten memory. Then he brushed a finger over your slit and you gasped, cool touch sending waves of pleasure through you. “Need you.” The two words made his head snap up from where he was looking at your pussy, eyes connecting with yours.

“I was going to go down on you,” he said, and although the thought was tantalizing, you needed him inside of you.

You shook your head. “Later.”

Harry wasn’t complaining. He grabbed one of the condoms from his desk and ripped it open, rolling it down his dick with a concentrated gaze. Then, he crawled up your body, reconnecting your lips, and you both sighed at the feeling of his dick rolling against your center. “Okay?” He asked, pulling away just a hair to check in.

“Please,” you begged, and that had him moving immediately.

He tugged one of your legs around his waist, and then he gripped his dick, brushing his tip to your slit once, twice, three times. On the third time, though, he pressed in, and your wetness accepted him immediately, allowing him to push in about halfway before he stopped.

It burned a bit—mainly just from his size, which was bigger than most other guys you’d been with. You hands scrambled across his chest, grabbing at his skin, struggling to get your breathing under control. “You’re big,” you said, unable to stop the words that fell from your lips.

A cocky smile drifted over his face and you mentally kicked yourself for adding to his ego. “Can I move?” He asked though and you nodded. His head bobbed down, and you realized he was watching where you two were connected as he pulled back and then pushed in all the way. A choked moan left your mouth and a similar one sounded from Harry’s, although his had a string of curses attached. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he rasped, hands adjusting so they were next to your head, his face above yours. “Fuck.”

You were about to tell him to move when he did it on his own accord, pulling out and back into you, the impact making your body shift on the comforter. There was a very real possibility of you having sore legs tomorrow, but you really didn’t give a fuck because he felt so good. “Holy shit,” you babbled, those words the only ones you could find as he thrusted in and out of you, finding a rhythm that made you both pant with pleasure.

Sounds drifted out of you without you even realizing, something that always happened when you had drunk sex. You couldn’t control yourself as much, unable to process how loud you were being, what you were saying. Looking back you couldn’t even remember exactly what you had said, but you knew it was a mess of curses and his name and God and just pants and mewls that were feeding Harry like a fucking three course meal.

He loved your sounds, used them to figure out what you liked, where to move and shift. You could tell because when you’d let out a sharp gasp he’d say, “Yeah, there? That’s the spot?” and drive in and out of you, hitting your g-spot perfectly with every move of his hips. Your hands were clutching at his hair as he thrusted into you, your ankles hooked around his lower back, and your body was desperate for release.

But you could also tell he was not going to last. His eyes were heavy, eyelids drawing shut with pleasure, fingers curling in the pillow next to you. Shoulders tensing and abdomen tight as he swiveled his hips, a broken moan falling between you. “Close,” he finally said, and dropped down to his elbows, so his face hovered above yours, only a hair away. “You feel so good, shit, oh my god—how do you feel so good?” His words were broken and that made them even better, that he had no control over what he was saying.

“Want you to come,” you babbled, “want to feel it, come on Harry, come for me, please, I need it.”

“Holy fuck—“ that had him snapping into you, hips slapping against yours, the sound of skin on skin overpowering the music that still played in the background. You gripped his shoulders when his head hung in the crook of your shoulder, and you knew he was about to come.

So you said one more thing. “I need you to come, Harry, please.” The words came out as a beg, exactly as you intended. His hips were stuttering immediately, curses falling between you like a broken record, repeating over and over again as he shot into the condom. He smattered kisses on your shoulder as he collapsed into you, sweat sticking to your skin.

He laid there for a second, panting, and you didn’t mind, even though you desperately needed to come. Perhaps it was how you clamped down on him, or you shifted your hips to feel slightly more of him, but Harry seemed to figure out what you needed. He lifted his head, took one look at you, and then pulled out, ripping off the condom and tossing it into his trash before crawling down your legs.

When his tongue licked your slit, you mewled his name, your hands moving into his hair immediately. You tugged and pulled on it as he licked over you, drawing circles that pulled desire from your flesh. And then he went inside, darting his deftly skilled tongue into you and practically thrusting it into you. His thumb brushed across your nub and you let our a shuddering moan, bucking up into his face. You were close—insanely close—the combination of his tongue inside of you and the thumb on your nub drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Harry,” you rasped, voice broken from panting. “I’m close.”

He seemed double his effort, tongue moving in and out of you at double time, his thumb brushing a brutal pace over you. You were twisting in his arms, hips bucking, curses leaving your lips. And when he pulled his thumb away and sucked on your clit, that’s when you came, in a mess of his name and broken gasps, choking on air. Your fingers curled tightly in his hair, anchoring his face to your center as you came, bucking up into him. He didn’t mind though, he just held your hips and took it, licking at you to draw out all of your aftershocks. Your eyes squeezed shut and your mind was a mess, swirling without the ability to grasp onto a single thread of thought, just a mess under his lips.

When you finally regained the ability to breathe, you pulled your hands from his hair and he sat up. You watched in awe as he licked his lips, gathering your juice, and swallowed them, a smile on his face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really good at that?”

He gave you a cocky expression and then flopped down next to you. “They have, in fact.”

“Good. I’d be concerned about the other girls if they hadn’t.”

He laughed, and then pulled you into his body. You were surprised at his desire to cuddle, but you weren’t mad. “You can stay if you want. There’s people downstairs still and it’s cold out.”

You propped your head up on his shoulder. “There’s also all those condoms.”

“That’s true. Wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”

You trailed your fingers up his torso. “Might have to just stay the whole weekend if we’re trying to use them all.”

His eyebrows quirked, but he wasn’t mad at the prospect. “Wanna be my study break for the weekend?”

You smirked, leaning up to quickly peck his lips. “As long as you’re mine.”

He hauled your body on top of his and curled his fingers into your hair. “We’ll get your shit in the morning, then.”

“It’s a deal.” You kissed him, lips slotting against one another, slower and less hurried than before, but that same undercurrent of desire stringing between you two. You were already grinding into him, hips brushing over his as you moved.

Suddenly, a pounding sound came from the door, and you froze. “Fuck off!” Harry called, pulling the comforter that had ended up at the bottom of the bed over the two of you.

“Fuck—sorry—I need a condom, man.” The words were muffled, but you heard them all the same.

Harry snorted, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Go ask Nick,” he replied, “and leave me the fuck alone.” His hands grabbed at you, kneading into your ass, and you licked at his nipple.

It was going to be a long weekend.

SEND ME CONCEPTS ABOUT Y/N AND HARRY!

[heymacy]

I love all those sentence prompts you just posted.😂 But I feel like the most appropriate one is probably:

“So why did I have to punch that guy?”

Thank you Arrow!! 💗

Ridiculous Sentence Prompts: "So why did I have to punch that guy?"

--

There were only a few things left in the world that made Mickey really, really angry.

The first was their property manager, Melanie, and her stupid-ass dog with its stupid, stupid diaper.

The second was the fact that a single can of beer cost four times more on the West Side than it did back in their old neighborhood. What special brand of bullshit were these crunchy granola hippies trying to churn out at the Wine, Etc. store, anyway?

The third thing, and probably the only one that would stick around after he adjusted to his new life above the poverty line, was any time that anyone disrespected, hurt, or even mildly annoyed his husband.

Every time they dealt with an irritating client or an overzealous new employee, Mickey would clench his teeth and fight the urge to knock them on their ass. One hit was all it would take, he knew that for certain. He'd taken down Ian's exes, family members, hell, even Ian himself on a few occasions, with a single punch to the throat.

Now, he was an adult, a business owner, a husband and partner that needed to play by society's rules if they were ever going to crawl out of the gutter completely.

The very idea made Mickey's teeth ache.

He bit his bottom lip while they sat side-by-side in their booth at the Alibi, waiting for some schmuck to meet them for an interview.

"We need to start interviewing the guys we hire, Mickey," Ian had said one night while cooking dinner. He chopped the carrots and celery on the wooden cutting board while Mickey sat slumped on the couch, nursing a beer and watching a TikTok Mandy had sent him earlier that day.

He looked up at his husband as he watched an orange and white cat chow down on kibble after his automatic feeder malfunctioned.

Mandy 🌻 (6:09pm): plz tell ian this is him in cat form

Mickey snorted at his phone, barely registering Ian's comment.

"Mick?" Ian tried again, and Mickey looked up from his phone.

"Hmm?" he replied through a mouthful of beer.

"I said we need to start interviewing the guys we hire," Ian said again, using the knife to scrape the carrots and celery off of the cutting board and into the giant pot he had boiling on the stove. Mickey wasn't sure what he was making, but it smelled amazing.

"What for? Those resumé things ain't good enough for you?" Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side as he tried to hide a smirk.

Ian rolled his eyes and used the comically oversized wooden spoon to stir his soup.

"No, Mick. So we don't have another Connor situation."

Mickey snorted. Connor was a dipshit they'd hired back in April to help with pickups, a dipshit that had cost the company almost $2,500 after he "forgot" to make the deposit with Ian and Mickey at the end of his scheduled route.

"I mean, his name's Connor. Kinda feel like you should've known what you were walkin' in to with that one."

"I'm serious," Ian said. "Interviews. We gotta do 'em." He stirred the soup vigorously, the spoon clanking against the side of the pot with every twist.

Mickey sighed deeply and rolled his eyes.

"Fine, we'll interview some new guys. But we're not doing it at a Starbucks or some shit. I'm not ready to go full West Side." He scrunched up his nose and made a face, to which Ian just chuckled.

"Glad you're on board," he teased, getting back to work on his soup, which had started to bubble.

--

Kev and Vee had moved to Louisville a month before, transferring ownership of the bar to Carl and Officer Tipping, who promised to keep everything just as it was. It gave Mickey a sense of calm knowing that even as the rest of his old neighborhood was slipping away, his adolescent stomping grounds now littered with coffee shops and yoga studios, some things remained the same.

He ran his fingers along the familiar crack in the table, a sharp sensation prodding the pads of his fingertips and helping him forget, even temporarily, what they were there to do.

Ian smacked the back of Mickey's hand gently.

"Stop it," he said, referring to the way Mickey was two seconds away from giving himself a splinter.

Mickey huffed and rolled his eyes.

"What's this guy's name again?"

Ian looked at his phone where he had an email pulled up. He glanced over the message then scrolled to the bottom.

"Derek," he said plainly.

"Derek," Mickey mocked, and Ian whacked him in the chest with the back of his hand.

"Knock it off," he said, and Mickey rolled his eyes again.

"Whatever. He's late anyway, let's just bail and go get some pizza."

"He's not late, Mickey. It's only..." he looked at his watch. "3:58. He's got three minutes until he's late."

Just then, as if summoned by Ian's voice, a tall, lanky, blond man walked through the front door of the bar and made his way towards the back corner booth where Ian and Mickey sat.

"You guys Ian and Mackie?"

Ian snorted as he tried to hide his laughter. Mickey rolled his eyes a third time, this time so hard that it was honestly impressive he didn't snap his optic nerves in the process.

"Mickey," Ian corrected politely. He nudged his husband with his elbow and the two of them climbed out of the booth to meet with their interviewee.

Ian shook his hand firmly.

"I'm Ian, and this is my husband Mickey." He smiled and turned to Mickey, who was standing with his hands in his pockets and giving Derek, all six feet two inches of him, an intense once-over. Elbowing his husband for a second time, Mickey relented, pulling his hands from his pockets and reaching out to shake Derek's hand. His giant palm was cold and clammy but also somehow uncomfortably hot. Mickey grimaced.

"Hey," he said gruffly. "Mickey."

"Derek," the other man said as they shook hands. "So you two are married?"

Ian nodded.

"Little over a year now, yeah."

Derek nodded.

"Cool, cool, cool," he said, nodding and looking around. "So this place is...interesting."

The judgmental and condescending way Derek said "interesting" wasn't new or unusual to either of them, but tall lanky blond bitches with North Side energy and a terrible fade saying "interesting" like they wanted to say "disgusting" made Mickey's blood boil.

He clenched his fist without even realizing what he was doing. Ian noticed immediately when Mickey's shoulders tensed up, stiffening in a way that reminded Ian of a startled cat, and he turned to climb back in the booth. He squeezed Mickey's arm once, twice, and dragged him down into the booth with him.

"It was a family friend's place," Ian said, nonchalant, eager to move the conversation away from the Alibi and towards their business. "So, Derek, on your resume, I see that you worked--"

Derek cut Ian off mid-sentence.

"Have they ever thought about turning this place into some sort of art installation or something? Just with the open floor plan and the exposed pipes, it's very pseudo-industrial-chic."

If they hadn't already assumed before by his distinct vocal fry and the smell of coconut hair gel, Derek's use of the term "pseudo-industrial-chic" solidified what the other two already knew: there were three gay motherfuckers in this booth.

Ian stuttered for a second, surprised by Derek's interjection and resistance to changing the subject.

"Don't think so, no." He grabbed his phone and opened up the Gmail app again. "So, anyway, your resume says you worked at--"

"You know what would be really cool in here? A movement class. I went to one in LA once that was hosted by Gwyneth Paltrow and it was liberating."

Mickey snorted and Ian elbowed him in the ribs.

"I bet it was," Ian said, unamused at Derek's refusal to talk about his work history. "So you worked at--"

"Have you guys ever been to LA? Oh my god, it's the best. So chic. I mean, I'm from Evanston originally, so basically anything is chic in comparison. I mean, not here, obviously, but you know. Other places."

Ian sighed.

"Totally," he said. "So, your work history, it says--"

"Hey, do you guys know what the best dispensary is around here? Preferably something upscale, with those iPads you can order on. I need a few new carts--"

"Dude," Mickey cut in. "Can you shut the fuck up for five seconds?"

Derek looked surprised, and Mickey could hear Ian's sharp, apprehensive inhale.

"Excuse me?" Derek said, holding his hand to his chest.

"He's been trying to ask you the same question since we sat down, and you won't shut the fuck up about chic cities and weed, so if you could just answer our questions, that would be great." He looked over at Ian, whose eyes were wide and hesitant, unsure about how things were about to unfold.

"You're very rude," Derek said to Mickey, giving him a scowl.

Mickey snorted.

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know."

Derek's eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkled up, agitated.

"You should be nicer to the people you want to hire." He crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

Mickey laughed out loud.

"Dude, who says we wanna hire you? I'm pretty sure if you worked for us, I'd blow my brains out in the first two minutes."

Ian tried and failed miserably to conceal his laughter, covering his mouth with his hand and looking down at the table. Mickey leaned over towards his husband.

"I kinda wanna punch this guy in the mouth," he mumbled, and Ian side-eyed him from where he sat beside him.

"Please don't," he replied in a whisper before composing himself and turning back to Derek.

"Look, Derek, you seem like a nice guy, but I don't think this is gonna work out." He held out his hand to signal that the interview was over, but Derek didn't return his handshake. Instead, he pouted like a toddler that had just been scolded for bad behavior.

"Your husband's a dick," Derek said to Ian, and Mickey could literally feel Ian's body stiffen next to him.

"Hey," Mickey said, putting his hand on Ian's knee. "Forget it. Let's go get pizza."

"No," Ian said sternly, turning back to Derek. "Listen, dude, you're also kind of a dick, so why don't we just call this a wash and you can go track down your carts or whatever."

Mickey bit his lip, fighting a smile. He secretly loved when Ian got defensive, as long as it wasn't directed towards him.

"You're both dicks!" Derek said, slamming his hands down on the table. He slid out of the booth and stood up, and Mickey and Ian did the same. The three men stood there, Derek facing the husbands with a pissed-off expression.

"You should go," Ian said, pointing at the door.

Derek snorted.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. When the ad said South Side, I knew there was a good chance the owners were a couple of trashy, ghetto assholes. But him?" He pointed at Mickey. "He's a world-class dick."

Before Derek could say anything else, he was cut off by a fist to the jaw and dropped to the floor, unconscious.

The ambient chatter and loud clacking of billiard balls came to a halt as the regulars that sat scattered around the Alibi turned in unison to see what had happened. Once they identified the source of the loud "thud" as one of the Gallagher-Milkovich boys knocking out some blond giant, they immediately turned back to their various activities.

Just another day on the South Side.

Ian cupped his right fist in his left hand and turned to Mickey, bewildered.

"I just punched that guy, Mick," he said, genuinely surprised. "I knocked him out. Shit."

Mickey shrugged.

"He kinda deserved it."

Ian looked at Mickey with a really? sort of expression and shook his head back and forth.

"Still," he said, turning to look at Derek, sprawled out unconscious on the floor like a rag doll.

"C'mon man, it's fine. He'll come to, and when he does, we'll be long gone." He grabbed Ian's upper arm and gave him a tug, but Ian just sat back down in the booth.

"Why did I do that?" he asked, but Mickey knew he was talking only to himself. He sat down beside his husband, stepping over Derek's long ass leg on his way back to the booth.

"I mean, you kinda had to."

Ian looked over at Mickey, eyebrows raised. He stared at his husband for a moment, puzzling, before breaking into a smile.

"What?" Mickey asked, confused as to how Ian could go from having some sort of moral crisis over knocking out a hipster to grinning gleefully at his husband in a half second. Ian reached over and put his hand on Mickey's thigh. Immediately, the mood shifted. Pool cues squeaked as they were chalked up and glasses clinked on the countertops. The distinct chhh-chhh sound of a spray bottle punctured Mickey's ear drums as he looked down at his husband's hand on his thigh.

"So," Ian said, voice quieter than before. "Why did I have to punch that guy?"

Mickey smirked. He could be honest, and say the obvious reason, which was that Derek was a total douche canoe and deserved to be socked in the mouth by someone his own size. He could lie, and say it was because Derek seemed dangerous and Ian was just following his instincts, but that would have been the lie of the fucking century.

Instead, he said neither, and opted for something he knew would make Ian smile.

"Because you love me."

Ian's face broke into a full grin and he giggled, leaning over to kiss his husband once, quickly, well-aware of Mickey's hesitancy towards PDA when they were out and about on the South Side.

When he pulled back, he was smirking, and Mickey knew his cheeks were flushed. He hadn't been expecting the kiss, however brief it was, and his stomach felt a little fluttery.

"I mean, I'm not the kind of guy that just stands by and lets people talk shit about the man he loves." He grinned and Mickey rolled his eyes, remembering Ian telling him about the last words he'd said to Glittery Twink Byron the night they'd gotten engaged.

"You're a fuckin' sap, man."

"True," Ian said, standing up from the booth and stepping over Derek's leg as Mickey had done minutes before. He reached out his hand and pulled his husband from the booth. The two of them stood there momentarily, staring at Derek's lump of a body on the sticky, peanut-shell covered floor.

"Should we like, do something?" Mickey asked, kicking Derek's foot with his own boot. The man didn't move a muscle. Mickey wondered for a second if he might be dead, but the shallow rise and fall of the douche canoe's chest let him know that unfortunately, for all of humankind, the asshole was still alive.

Ian shook his head.

"Nah, he can sleep it off."

He reached down and took Mickey's hand in his own.

"C'mon," he said as he dragged them both towards the door. "Let's go get pizza."

[wholesomemendes]

The Winter Ball Date

College/Friends to Lover Au

Summary: When one year you get asked to the annual Winter Ball by someone other than Shawn, the two of you realize what you’ve been looking past for years.

Author’s Note: Long time no see! This is part of Julia’s Winter Writing Challenge by @wondershawns and I am so excited to have participated! My setting prompt was “A knock on the window” and the line “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this”. I hope you guys enjoy! As always, I love hearing any type of feedback and I love you all x

Word Count: 8.4k

Presents, Christmas music, your mother’s famous cookies on your tongue, all playing one by one in your mind. The feeling of just being home again instead of in a small, stuffy dorm seemed so close, yet so far away and you couldn’t help but wish that this last month would fly by. A soft nudge to your foot broke you out of your thoughts, “What’s got you in a daze?” You blinked your eyes rapidly to focus your thoughts to the present once again, turning your gaze to the curly haired boy next to you with a bright smile on his face. 

“I’m just thinking about Christmas and being home again,” you sighed dreamily, your head coming to rest on your hand. 

“Christmas is over a month away, you’re better off worrying about finals if you’re thinking that far ahead,” he laughed as a hand came up to lightly push your shoulder.

You cast a harsh glare at him through the dim light of the library, “It’s never too early to start thinking about Christmas. Aren’t you excited?”

“Of course I’m excited.” Shawn leaned back against his chair looking into space, “I get to go home and see family and I only have to worry about my sister instead of a bunch of rowdy frat boys.”

You let out a chuckle at his words, “Aren’t you also a rowdy frat boy?”

“You wound me.” He dramatically placed a hand over his heart, “Besides, I’m more excited to annoy you every day over break.”

“You already annoy me every day.”

“Maybe, but it’ll be much more convenient than me walking all the way across campus to get to your dorm.” You couldn’t lie that he did have a point there. The two of you had been best friends ever since the day your family moved into the house next to his in middle school. You had been inseparable ever since, choosing to go to the same college a few hours from your houses and meeting almost every day since you had joined as freshman. Three years later and nothing had changed, except for how tall Shawn had managed to grow in those years and how the both of you definitely had matured in both personality and appearance since you were in middle school.

“How fortunate for me then,” you laughed, turning your attention back to the abandoned textbook in front of you. 

Shawn’s eyes remained on you, cocking an eyebrow your way, “What, you’re not looking forward to my random visits?” 

“Oh no, I am so looking forward to being woken up in the middle of the night because you can’t sleep.”

“Hey that was only twice!”

“Two times too many if you ask me,” you mumbled under your breath, however the smirk on your face told Shawn that you meant for him to hear it. He simply pulled your chair closer to him and rammed his knuckles into your head until you were laughing and begging him to stop. 

____________________

“You’re coming to the game tonight right?” You had found your way into Shawn’s bed after a full day of classes with your head on his chest, a random hockey game playing on the television across from the two of you. Shawn’s arm provided a comforting warmth as it laid across your stomach, pulling you into him, and each pass of his fingertip onto your skin made you relax further into him. The cuddling wasn’t anything new to the two of you, even the electric feeling you felt from his touch had almost become normal to you. Almost.

“Of course I am. I’ve never missed one, have I?”

“You’re right you haven’t,” he smiled down at you, a stray curl falling in front of his face, “Just wanted to make sure my good luck charm would be there.”

You reached up to brush his hair out of his face, but Shawn quickly grabbed your arm, playfully biting your finger until you pulled away and your wrist was left in his grasp. “I refuse to believe I’m your good luck charm.”

“We’ve been undefeated for three years, hun. You’re my good luck charm.”

“But-”

“Nope, shut it. Don’t want to hear a peep from you.” He pulled you tighter into him before placing a delicate kiss to your hair, “Remind me to give you my jersey for tonight. Want to make sure everyone knows whose good luck charm you are.”

“You’re such a goof.”

____________________

Shawn won. Again. It was no surprise, especially since the team they were up against were no good, but that didn’t mean that you weren’t incredibly proud of him. He absolutely amazed you every time he went out on the ice and you couldn’t help but wait impatiently in the main corridor of the arena. Students rustled around you as you waited though you paid them no mind, simply choosing to admire the banners on the wall instead. The sudden increase in noise caused you to turn your head towards the locker rooms where a certain curly-headed boy was leading a pack of freshly showered athletes. You sprinted past the crowds of people in his direction as Shawn dropped his bag, opting instead to pick you up in his arms as you ran straight into him. You wrapped your legs around him like a koala with your head buried into his neck, breathing in the strong, heady scent of his shampoo. “There’s my good luck charm,” he sighed into your hair and you laughed, only causing a brighter smile to form on his face.

“You were incredible, Shawn. You’re constantly impressing me out there.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, lifting his head to look you in the eyes, “Always means the most coming from my number one fan.”

You flashed him a smile that mirrored his as he slid you down to the floor, making sure that you were always close to him even while others were surrounding him. Your eyes stayed trained on him and the aura that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. They followed the path of his jaw, his neck, to his broad shoulders he always made you massage for him. But before you could finish admiring him, you felt a presence behind you and a slight grasp on your arm. You turned only to be met with a tall figure with beautiful green eyes and dirty blonde hair. He seemed to be about Shawn’s height, maybe an inch shorter, and although his smile wasn’t as bright as Shawn’s was, it still managed to take your breath away for a moment. “Hi, I’m Grant,” the man introduced himself, extending his hand for you to grab, “Are you Shawn’s girlfriend?”

You turned your focus back to Shawn who was currently in the middle of a conversation with a couple fraternity brothers and sorority sisters before coming back to this new mysterious man. “Oh no, we’re not, we’re not dating. We’re just best friends.” Grant seemed to have some distrust in his eyes at your words, his eyebrow lifting up slightly in question. “I’m Y/n by the way.” Grabbing his outstretched hand you let yourself appreciate the polite person in front of you.

“I’m sorry I assumed you’re dating. I’m in the frat with Shawn; we’re not good friends or anything but I’ve seen the two of you around in there.” Suddenly your mind clicked to where you had seen him before off of the rink. Most of the boys on the hockey team all resided in the same fraternity so it shouldn’t have been a surprise to you to learn that you had been in the same house as Grant multiple times. “You two are really close, I can’t be the only one that has mistaken the two of you as dating.”

“Yeah…,” you trailed off, sparing a glance back at Shawn, “It happens a lot more than you think. But I promise we’re not. I’m as single as one can be.” Grant’s smile seemed to grow at your words and his shoulders relaxed an inch. 

“Well in that case I actually wanted to ask you…”

“What’s going on over here?” A heavy weight slid across your shoulders, effectively pulling you into a warm body you immediately recognized. You rolled your eyes at the interruption. Perfect timing as always, Shawn. 

“Nothing, just introducing ourselves to one another,” Grant replied, that smile that you were beginning to grow fond of diminishing slightly. 

“Good, was worried that my good luck charm was switching sides.” Shawn sent a pointed look your way with a smirk playing on his lips.

“Good luck charm?”

“Why do you think we haven’t lost a game yet?” Shawn questioned, reaching out to pinch our cheeks, “It’s this little one right here giving me all the luck.” You swatted his hand away bitterly, but his smirk only grew. “Well I’m sure this has been great. Grant, I’ll see you later at the frat and you missy, we have a celebratory dinner to catch.” He maneuvered his way through the people calling his name, bringing you right to his classic jeep.

“You’re horrible you know that right,” you huffed as soon as you got into the seat.

“What ever could you be talking about?” he said innocently.

“If you keep acting like this, I’ll truly never get into a relationship.”

“You’re being silly.”

“Says the one that literally interrupted an entire conversation I had barely even started yet.”

“I was simply worried about you.”

“Mhm, sure.” You stared out the window in protest, not even moving when you felt his hand on your lower thigh.

“Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you liked Grant. I was just looking out for you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I like him, I’ve known him for all of five minutes, but it would be nice to maybe explore some options without my personal bodyguard getting in the way.”

“Once again I’m sorry that I got in the way then. I guess Grant is not the worst guy you could have chosen out of the bunch,” he trailed off as he pulled into the diner parking lot the two of you had been frequenting at after almost every hockey game, “Now let’s put this behind us. I’m really craving some fries and a milkshake.” 

____________________

The brisk wind of the courtyard made you tighten your jacket around yourself in a poor attempt to keep the chills away. A sigh of relief escaped your lips once you rounded the corner of the lecture hall you had previously been in, leading you through a row of buildings that temporarily protected you from the harsh weather of Toronto. You kept your eyes trained in front of you, desperately trying to will your feet to somehow move faster to get you to Shawn’s frat house for your usual post-class wind down.

“Hey Y/n!” You whipped your head around to see the source of your name, but after coming up empty handed in the small crowd of students behind you, you shook your head, convincing yourself you just imagined it as you continued your walk. “Y/n, wait!” Pausing this time, you turned your body around completely only to be met with the sight of Grant maneuvering his way carefully around the other students. Upon seeing you stopped, his face light up and he started to jog his way towards you until he was close enough for you to feel some of his body heat. “Hey.”

“Hey, Grant. How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks. Sorry to catch you at such a bad time, but I didn’t know when I was going to see you again,” he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “I also didn’t want to wait too long to ask this because I was afraid I’d miss my chance.”

“What’s going on?”

“Are you going to the Winter Ball with anyone?” The Winter Ball was the annual end of the semester party Shawn and Grant’s fraternity held every year that was incredibly exclusive. The only way to get in was if one of the members took you as their date, which meant that almost every girl was dying for someone to ask her. 

At that moment your gaze fell to the beautiful bouquet of red roses that were present in his hands before your eyes lifted to meet his that were so full of hope and nerves. “As of right now I am not. Why do you ask?”

“That’s great! I mean, that’s not great that you’re not going with anyone, but great because I, um, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go with me?” 

You flashed him a bright smile as he handed the bouquet towards you, “I would love to go with you, Grant.”

“Really? That’s, that’s amazing. I’m looking forward to it.”

“So am I.” 

He wrapped his arms around you in a quick hug before moving the other way, “I hate to leave right away, I’d love to stay and talk, but I really need to get to class.”

You waved him off, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah of course,” he began walking away until his eyebrows raised and he came back, “Wait, can I actually get your number?” You saved your number into the contacts of his phone and gave him a wave, heading your way back to the line of frat houses you were looking for. The butterflies in your stomach were doing front flips as you tried to will the humongous smile off of your face. A guy just asked you to be his date to the Winter Ball. A really cute, sweet guy just asked you to be his date to the Winter Ball. Never in a million years did you think someone like him would even imagine asking you to be their date yet here you were, the most delightful smelling roses in your hand and a fluttering feeling in your body. You hardly comprehended that you had already stepped foot into the frat house until you were opening the door to Shawn’s room and falling onto his bed next to him with a dopey smile on your face. 

Shawn looked over at you questioningly from his phone, ‘What’s going on with the flowers and the face?”

“Shawn, you won’t believe it!” you practically squealed, turning onto your side, “Grant just asked me to be his date to the Winter Ball!”

“The Winter Ball?”

“Yes! Isn’t that the best thing ever! I’ve never been asked before!”

“What do you mean? You’ve been my date every year.” If you hadn’t been so caught up with the giddiness in your chest you might have been able to notice the fleeting look of sadness in his eyes as he spoke.

“That’s not the same though. I wasn’t really your date, we just went as friends.”

“Yeah, but you were still considered my date.”

“Still, it’s not the same thing.” 

A small moment of silence took over the room before Shawn cleared his throat. “So...you said yes?”

“Of course I said yes, I’d be stupid not to.” 

“Oh.”

You watched as he focused back on his phone, a tiny frown on his face that you could hardly notice, “What’s wrong.”

“Nothing. I’m glad you’re so happy about this.”

“Don’t lie to me, Mendes, what’s wrong?”

“Just wondering what I’m going to do about a date this year.”

“That’s what you’re upset about?” you looked at him incredulously, “Please, you’re one of the most sought after guys in this school. You could go up to any girl on this entire campus and none of them would even hesitate to say yes.”

“I guess.”

“You guess?” you scoffed, “What about Jessica? I’ve seen the two of you talking a lot at post game parties and everything. You two look like you get along.” 

“Yeah, I could always ask her,” he sighed, “But Jessica isn’t going to drag me into my room at four in the morning asking me to sing her a song on the guitar so she can fall asleep.” He sent a teasing smile your way as he referenced your habit of pulling his hand through crowds of people until you got to his room when you felt too tired and wanted to go to sleep.

“I’m sorry, Shawn. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” You thought for a moment, “I know! I’ll buy you pizza from your favorite pizza place! You know, the one across from the campus coffee shop where they put extra cheese on top.”

“That’s not my favorite pizza place.”

“But every time we go there you say…”

“I only say that because I know it’s your favorite pizza place.” His gaze fell soft upon you, “Don’t get me wrong it’s not bad, but I don’t have a favorite and I know you’re more likely to go there if I said it’s also my favorite.”

“Oh,” you looked down at your hands, “Well thank you.” Shawn hummed in response, his eyes traveling back to his phone. “You can still come over beforehand to get ready together like we always do.”

He let out a sad chuckle, “Don’t think Grant would much like that, honey.”

“That’s too bad if he doesn’t like it because it’s important to me that we get ready together and you’re the first person to see me all fancied up.” 

Shawn swore he felt his heart stutter in his chest, “If you want me over, I’d be more than happy to get ready with you.”

“Perfect, it’s a date.”

____________________

You couldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt when you noticed that Shawn had been a little more distant with you in the past week. Your texts sat on delivered for longer, you were no longer going over to his room after every lecture due to him “being busy”, and the nightly FaceTime calls were no longer nightly. You blamed it on hockey practices piling up and finals getting closer but in reality, you knew that wasn’t the case. There was only a week until finals, and therefore the Winter Ball, when you finally ran into Shawn again on your way to a class, very obviously catching him off guard. “Hey, long time no see.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been really busy lately,” he told you, but you knew him long enough to tell that the way his eyes wouldn’t maintain contact with you was a telltale sign that there was more to the story.

“Don’t worry about it, just miss you is all. Did you find a date yet for the ball?”

“Oh yeah, I asked Jessica like you told me to.”

“That’s great! Are you doing anything later today?”

“Uh, I don’t know…”

“I’m going dress shopping for the Winter Ball if you want to come with me like you always do.”

“Uh…”

“Come on, Shawn, you’re not going to break tradition are you?” 

He desperately wanted to respond with, “You already broke a tradition by ditching me without warning and going with Grant,” but he bit his tongue. “Sure,” he replied with a heavy heart, “I’d love to help you pick out a dress.”

“Yay! Why don’t we go right after class?”

“Ok, I can pick you up at three?”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you later, Mendes!” You left a searing kiss on his cheek before rushing off to class, leaving him staring after you longingly.

____________________

“Any ideas on what you want?” Shawn trailed behind you like a lost puppy as you skimmed your way through the many clothing racks. 

“Not really. Just want something that says ‘Please don’t regret inviting me. I swear I’m a good choice.’”

He couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his lips, “I don’t think you need a dress for that. You do that by yourself.”

You bit your lip to contain your smile, “Thank you, but I don’t know if everyone feels that way.”

“Well they should,” he mumbled, his fingers mulling over the beautiful items of clothing. A deep maroon, velvet dress caught his eye immediately and he pulled it out, examining it carefully before nodding his head, “Try this one on.”

“Hm,” you turned to look at him as he studied the dress, “Oh, that’s gorgeous. I’ll try it on if you want me to.”

He nodded his head before turning back to the dresses silently, not making any other comments as you looked around. Once you were satisfied with the dresses in your arms, you headed towards the dressing rooms, looking both ways to ensure that no one was around before pulling Shawn into one with you. He turned around as you changed; sure he had seen you in bikinis before and you were both sure that on more than one occasion when you were drunk that you had both changed in front of one another, but he still had enough respect for you to turn around whilst you put the first dress on. 

The first one was a simple black dress with long sleeves that you thought would be nice for the cold climate that came with living in Canada and although it was flattering, it didn’t feel like anything special. You turned to Shawn with a sigh, “What do you think?”

Personally, from the second you told him to turn around, Shawn swore he had seen an angel. The way the dress hugged your curves had him twitching in his pants and he had to swallow thickly in an attempt to control his thoughts. “I, um, I mean you look beautiful. I like it.”

“Really?” you asked, admiring yourself in the mirror, “I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel special to me.”

“Why don’t you just come back to that one then. I think it’s really pretty on you.”

“Yeah, you’re right I’ll just do that.” Four dresses later and you still hadn’t found the dress for you. There was a dark green one that you didn’t feel complimented your skin tone well enough (Shawn begged to differ), a black one with a plunged neckline that went way too far down for your comfort zone (Shawn was glad he didn’t have to protest against that one, he didn’t particularly like the idea of all the drunk, disrespectful boys in the frat seeing that), another black one that went too far down your legs (even though Shawn argued that it would keep your legs warm), and a light blue one that didn’t really fit your feeling of winter (Shawn almost lost his mind when you had bent down in front of him in that one to pick up a loose string that had fallen off of it). 

Finally, you had reached the dress Shawn had picked out for you, just as you were beginning to lose all hope of finding a dress. The moment you slipped it on you knew it felt different than the others: it fit you perfectly with a plunging neckline that showed just enough, the fabric wrapped along the middle to the bottom to accentuate your waist, your curves were shown in a way that it was flattering, but not too overwhelming, and the maroon color complimented your skin beautifully. You couldn't lie, Shawn had somehow managed to find the perfect dress for you. “Ok, you can turn around now.” 

He slowly uncovered his eyes and faced his body towards you, his mouth immediately going dry at the sight of you. The combination of your body in the dress and the gorgeous smile on your face was kryptonite for him and he couldn’t help but wish even harder that he was the one who was lucky enough to be your date for the ball. He motioned you towards him, rubbing his fingers along the fabric of the dress in a way that sent your stomach flipping. “This the one?” he asked, looking up at you with bright doe eyes. You nodded slowly, watching him tug his bottom lip between his teeth. “Grant is very lucky to have you as his date, honey.”

You paused. The thought of Grant taking you to the ball instead of Shawn had completely escaped your mind and in that moment you regretted ever agreeing to changing your date this year. “Yeah, um, right, I hope he likes it.”

“If he has a brain in that head of his then there’s no doubt he’s going to be blown away by you.” He gave a gentle smile your way before tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear and tapping your hip lightly, “Now go and get changed so we can go cash out.”

You nodded your head as he turned back around, silently smacking yourself in the face for the sudden butterflies that were forming in your stomach. Since when did he have such an effect on you? And why was he doing it so easily?

The moment you got to the cash register, he immediately pushed you out of the way and gave his credit card to the cashier before you could even pull out your wallet. “Shawn, why did you pay for that? I was going to…”

“Calm down, honey,” he laughed at your outburst as he opened the car door for you, “Think of it as an apology gift for me not hanging out with you as much as I usually do this week.”

“But…”

“No buts, it’s already done.” The car engine roared to life and all you could think about while you sat in the passenger seat of his car was how you were going to be wearing a dress that not only did Shawn pick out, but also bought for you while you had to act like you weren’t constantly thinking about him as you stood next to Grant the whole night. Shawn had made sure that you were completely and utterly screwed.

____________________

“Are you almost done?” you heard Shawn’s impatient call from your bedroom. You were living in a larger suite with a bunch of other girls so you were lucky enough to have your own bathroom attached to your room. Shawn had gotten ready in the bathroom before you but you refused to look at him until you were finished as well, not wanting to ruin the surprise. So he sat out there waiting for you while you fixed your hair and makeup relentlessly, watching the time pass by ever so slowly.

“Give me one more second!” you called out to him, adjusting one final strand of hair. You checked your makeup one last time before opening the door, revealing yourself to a Shawn who was sat perched on the end of the bed, phone in hand. 

He looked up at the sound of the door opening, his mouth dropping open ever so slightly, “Damn, you look just perfect.” 

You willed the heat in your cheeks to go away, “Thank you. You don’t look half as bad yourself. Quite dashing if I say so.” It was true, he was wearing a simple black button up with black dress pants that fit to his thighs perfectly as he stood up in front of you. His outfit shouldn’t have looked as attractive to you as it did, maybe it was something about the way he had the top few buttons open to reveal the small amount of chest hair he was currently sporting or the way his hair was styled to perfection with your favorite curl hanging out in front, but your heart couldn’t stop fluttering at the sight of him. And then it dropped the moment you realized that you weren’t the girl that got to walk hand in hand with him that night.

“Before we go I have something for you.” Shawn turned towards his bag where he pulled out one single rose for you, “I know I’m not your date this year, but it felt wrong to break tradition. Besides, needed to make sure a beautiful girl like you got a flower in case Grant dropped the ball.”

You were suddenly extremely aware of how close he was to you, his nose almost touching yours. His eyes flickered to your lips for a brief moment, so fast that you couldn’t even tell by the way you were so focused on his breath hitting your lips. “Thank you,” you whispered, “You shouldn’t have.”

“I definitely should have.” His eyes went to your lips once again, this time letting them linger slightly longer so you got the hint. Your hands were trapped holding the rose against his chest as his hands ghosted over your hips, fingertips teasing the fabric of your dress. Shawn tilted his head ever so slowly, nudging your nose with his until your lips parted with a breath.

The sound of your phone ringing broke the two of you apart in a hurry as though you were both afraid of being caught. You scrambled away from him, heading to your dresser to grab a hold of your phone, Grant’s name lighting up the screen making the guilt in your stomach grow. “Hey, Grant, what’s up?”

“Hey are you going to be here soon?” his voice filled your ear.

“Yeah, I’m leaving right now.”

“Perfect, can’t wait to see you.”

“Can’t wait to see you either,” your voice came out soft before you ended the call, bringing your phone down slowly to face Shawn. He had the same conflicted look in his eyes that you couldn’t decipher as he held eye contact with you. 

He let out a deep sigh, picking up his bag that was on the floor, “We should probably go.”

“You’re right,” you agreed, but made no move to head towards the door.

Shawn came over to you, placing his hands in his pockets. “Grant’s waiting for you.” You nodded your head. “Jessica’s waiting for me.” You nodded once again. He let out another sigh, putting a soft hand on your cheek and a kiss to your hair, “We need to go.” You watched as he walked towards the door, looking back at you once he reached the doorway, and you had no choice but to follow suit.

____________________

Oh my god, I almost kissed Shawn. We almost kissed and we would’ve kissed if Grant hadn’t called me. Oh my god Grant. Why didn’t I think of Grant when I was with Shawn? Shawn’s my best friend, I can’t like him like that. Does he like me like that? Can you imagine if he liked me like that? 

“We’re here.” You looked over at Shawn who hadn’t uttered a single word to you the entire way here and was already proceeding to get out of the car without you. The door slammed shut and you winced, not understanding why he was so angry about what happened. Did he really want to kiss you that bad? Your heart couldn’t help but beat faster at the thought of him wanting to kiss you, but you willed it away, instead choosing to clamer out of the car after Shawn and attempt to focus your thoughts on Grant who was without a doubt waiting behind that door for you. 

“Shawn, wait up!” you called out as you ran after him, almost catching up to him as he reached the top of the steps before your heel got caught on the step and sent you tumbling forward. The second a squeal left your lips, Shawn’s arms were already around you, effectively saving you from a face plant on the concrete. You looked at him breathlessly, trying to compose yourself after what felt like a near death experience, “Thank you.”

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern evident in his eyes. Even when he was combating his emotions he still cared so deeply about you.

“Yeah I’m fine. I wouldn’t be if it wasn’t for you though…”

“Y/n, there you are!” Grant opened the door, with a wide grin on his face, but upon noticing the position you and Shawn were in, his brows furrowed, “Are you two ok?”

“What?” you looked between the two of you, “Oh, we’re perfect. Just took a little tumble up the stairs is all.” Shawn pulled you up with an arm around your waist until you were stable on your feet before immediately retracting as though you were made of fire. 

“Thanks for saving her man,” Grant told him, clapping his shoulder as he snaked an arm around your waist, “Jessica’s been asking about you in there by the way. Told her you’d find her when you got here.”

“Right, thanks.” Shawn awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck before excusing himself to push past the two of you into the house.

Grant leaned in closer to you as you both watched Shawn leave, “Is he alright?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t worry about him,” you reassured him, “Why don’t we get something to drink?”

“Sounds perfect.” Grant took your hand softly into his, leaving a light kiss to your cheek and leading you into the noisy house.

____________________

It had been hours since you arrived at the loud, people filled house. You had barely seen Shawn the whole night; you thought you might have seen him and Jessica making out in a corner at one point, but the multi-color lights in the house didn’t exactly make picking people out of the crowd as easy as it usually was. You had spent the entire night with Grant attached to your hip, whether it was while you were getting a drink, talking to friends, or dancing, he was always right by your side. His hands were currently on your hips, chest pressed to your back and peppering gentle kisses to your exposed neck as you swayed in rhythm to the beat of the song blaring through the speakers. The two of you hadn’t kissed yet, but with the way the drinks were affecting you, you doubt that statement would stay true for long. You were nursing your almost empty drink, the description of the contents long forgotten, all you knew was that your body had a nice tingly sensation running through it and your head was feeling just foggy enough that you knew exactly what you were doing, but you were willing to make some decisions you definitely wouldn’t make sober. Grant pressed a longer kiss to the back of your ear before whispering into it, “Stay here. I’m just going to run to the bathroom.” 

You nodded your head in his direction, taking the time to look around at the people around you. After waiting a few minutes for his return, you became bored and took it upon yourself to get yourself a new drink. You had been here enough that even drunk you knew your way to the kitchen so you easily maneuvered through the clusters of couples until you pushed open one of the entrances to the kitchen. No matter how much you desperately wished you couldn’t recognize the brown haired boy that was in there with you, there was no amount of alcohol that could make you forget his defining features. At the sound of the door closing, his head perked up to look at you and you became painfully aware of how the two of you were the only ones in there as you stared into his honey colored eyes. “Hey,” you breathed out, stepping closer until you were practically shoulder to shoulder with him. 

“Hey,” he bumped your shoulder with his, “Long time no see.”

The loopy smile he gave you told you that he was also feeling the alcohol, but probably only as much as you; the man knew how to hold his drinks. “Whatcha doing in here?”

“Told Jessica I’d get the both of us something more to drink,” he motioned to the two cups in front of him, “What about you? Where’s Grant?”

“Bathroom,” you replied, leaning back onto the counter, “I got bored waiting for him out there.” 

You lifted up Shawn’s hand that was resting next to you and began tracing the pattern on his fingertips. “What are you doing, love?” he laughed, the pet name slipping out as they usually did when he had some alcohol in his system.

“Playing with your hand.” You locked hands with him while he moved in front of you to make it all the more easier for you to continue your task. His large body trapped you against the counter, but you hardly noticed until his breath fanning over your face tore your attention away from his hand. “You’re very handsome you know,” you smiled, releasing his hand to run your finger over the light scar on his face, “So pretty.”

He let out a breathy laugh as he moved his now free hand to the counter to fully lock you in between his body, “That’s funny coming from someone who looks like those goddesses we used to learn about in school.”

“I don’t look like a goddess…” your voice trailed off, too occupied with outlining the features of his face.

“Yeah you do. Look like the prettiest one...what was her name again?” He smirked down at you, knowing Greek mythology used to be one of your favorite topics in school.

“Aphrodite?”

“Mhm, that’s the one. Swear you’re a real life Aphrodite.” He moved in closer to you, brown eyes boring into you and forcing your gaze back into them. He heard your breath catch in your throat as his nose touched yours, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing...you’re just close is all.”

“I am close,” he whispered, biting his lip when he felt the hand you had on his jaw move to his neck. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“What would you do if I kiss you right now?”

Your wide eyes batted up at him innocently from where he was towering over you, your heart absolutely racing, “I’d kiss you back.” 

And with that his lips connected to yours feverishly, his body pressing to yours harder. His lips were soft and you could taste the alcohol from whatever drink he had been sipping on before that made him intoxicating. He licked tentatively over your bottom lip, practically groaning into your mouth when you immediately opened up for him. You tasted so sweet to him, so sweet that he swore he could easily become addicted to your taste. He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, eliciting a soft moan from you that made his grip on the counter tighten and his hips push against yours harder. You could feel a bulge pressing against your lower stomach and you couldn’t help letting out another moan that Shawn eagerly swallowed into a kiss. Pulling him closer to you by his hair, he took that as a sign to thread his right hand through the base of your hair, the other hand reaching down to harshly pull your leg around his hip. Your hips bucked against his as his tongue fought yours for dominance that you easily gave him. 

Just as his hand was about to run up your thigh, the door to the kitchen burst open and Shawn swiftly moved completely away from you and back in front of the drinks he had originally come in for. You almost whined at the sudden lack of content, but the look of shock on the stranger’s face shut you up. It only took one look at your wide eyes and swollen lips and the sudden wrinkles in Shawn’s shirt for them to hastily exit the room with an apology spilling from their lips. 

The second they were gone you made your way back to Shawn, who was breathing heavily as he stared at the counter. You placed your hand on his chin, bringing his face back to you. Using your thumb to swipe at a rogue smudge of lipstick that had transferred onto him, you looked at him carefully, swallowing thickly when he placed a gentle kiss to the pad of your finger. You looked him in the eyes for the first time since your heated moment and while you could only see what you believed to be lust in his eyes, he saw yours change from lust to fear and to what finally made his heart drop: regret. “Oh my god,” you breathed out, successfully dodging Shawn’s attempt to grab your arm.

“Y/n wait!”

“I’m sorry, Shawn.”

“Please!” was the last thing you heard before you shut the door to the kitchen and rushed through the crowd of people. Your breathing was becoming erratic the deeper into your thoughts you got until you felt you were on the verge of a panic attack with no one to save you.

“There you are,” Grant sighed relieved, causing you to jump when his hand wrapped around your arm, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” 

“Sorry, I was bumped around in the crowd and got lost trying to find you again,” you lied, trying to avoid his eyes.

“That’s alright, I’m just glad you’re here,” he smiled at you, his brows furrowing while his hand came up to your lips, “Hold on your lipstick is a little smudged.”

Your eyes grew ten times wider, “Um, I think I must have just messed it up while I was drinking or something.”

“Ok, do you want to go dance again?”

“Yeah, uh, that sounds great…” your eyes met a frantic Shawn’s as he searched for you in the crowd, “You know what, I actually think I’m going to go home.”

“What?” Grant asked, confused as he followed you through the people.

“I just don’t feel good all of a sudden, it has nothing to do with you I swear. You’re amazing, I just need to go.” 

“Stay here overnight, don’t go home.”

“Grant, I don’t feel well.”

“I know, I don’t want that. I mean you’re gorgeous and everything, but if you’re not feeling well then obviously not. It’s just, I’m not in the right mindset to drive, it’s frigid out there, and a drunk girl all alone in an uber sounds like a horrible idea. So why don’t you just stay? I’ll sleep on the floor so you can sleep in my bed.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please, I just want you to be safe.” 

Your eyes lingered over to wear Shawn was still watching you, this time with Jessica in front of him, obviously trying to get his attention onto her. “You know what...sure. I’ll stay.”

A bright smile formed on Grant’s face, “Perfect, let’s get you all settled then.” He grabbed your hand and led you up the stairs toward his room, Shawn’s eyes following you with a heavy heart.

____________________

The next morning you bumped into Shawn in the hallway as you were exiting Grant’s room wearing his clothes he had let you borrow to sleep in for the night. Neither of you said a word as you silently made your way past him and down the stairs towards Grant’s car while Grant came strolling out of his room with his classic smile on his face, having no clue how heart broken Shawn felt when he gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder.

____________________

It had been a week since you last spoke to Shawn. Not a single message or interaction between the two of you. You didn’t know what you would say if you even had approached him, but you hadn’t gotten the chance to find out. Having to pack up your dorm for the semester gave you an excuse for not talking and a way to busy yourself to get your mind off of him. But no matter what you did Shawn Mendes was still hanging in the back of your mind, taunting you with replays of different moments with him over and over again. You were lucky that this time you hadn’t been planning on driving back home with him so you didn’t have to face him on the hours long drive back, though you knew that didn’t mean you wouldn’t be seeing him at some point upon your arrival. All these thoughts were swimming through your head as you pulled into your parent’s driveway, immediately being met with a swarm of greetings from your family. You seemed to have arrived before Shawn, which you felt incredibly fortunate for as you were ushered into the house. 

You didn’t see Shawn the whole first week you were there either, no matter how much your heart ached for him. You found yourself more often than not wondering what he was doing just next door and if he was thinking about you too or if you had already become something unattainable and therefore not worth his time. Even though you knew he wasn’t that type of person, the little devil on your shoulder kept telling you that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore.

Christmas Eve you were tucked into your bed, soft breaths coming from your mouth. The snow was coming down in light, fluffy flakes, just enough that it was the pretty white Christmas you always loved without the terrible snow storm you couldn’t stand. The first knock on your window sounded like the wind, but the second one was unmistakable, abruptly pulling you from your sleep and to the window. A gasp escaped your lips when you saw Shawn’s face staring back at you and you hurried to open your window for him. “Thank god,” he chuckled, “It’s freezing out there.” Shawn had been climbing up the side of your house to reach your room since you were young, so it truly should have been no surprise to you that he was scaling it in the snow.

“What do you want, Shawn?” you sighed, already making your way back into bed as he followed you, “It’s two in the morning.”

“That it is,” he agreed, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you turned to face him, eyes only opening slightly in your sleepy haze.

He brushed a stray piece of hair out of your face, “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this.”

You shrugged his hand away, “Shut up.”

“It’s true,” he whispered with his hand still lingering on your face, “My little Aphrodite.”

Your eyes shot wide open, your senses suddenly wide awake, “What’d you just call me?”

“My little Aphrodite.”

You sat up next to him. “Ok, Shawn, what do you want? Why did you come here in the middle of the night on Christmas nonetheless?”

“Can’t I just say hello to my best friend?”

“You haven’t said hello to your best friend in two weeks so that’s not a good excuse.”

“Don’t say that like you haven’t been avoiding me either,” he chuckled darkly.

“I couldn’t face you, Shawn!” you choked out, eyes beginning to well up with tears as you scooted away from him, “I couldn’t, not after....not after that night.”

There was a heavy silence for a moment before Shawn spoke harshly, “Why’d you hook up with Grant that night?”

“What?”

“Why’d you hook up with Grant?”

“I didn’t hook up with Grant,” you spat out, “Why would you even think that?”

“You really expect me to believe that after I saw you not only go upstairs with him, but also leave his room the next morning wearing his clothes!”

“I do expect you to believe it because nothing happened! I wanted to leave after what happened because I didn’t want to be in the same room as you anymore and he offered me a place to stay since it was cold and I was drunk. Nothing. Happened.”

“You didn’t want to be in the same room as me? Wow.” He shook his head, leaning back against your headboard on the other side of the bed, “One second I have your leg around me, moaning in my mouth, and the next you’re leaving me without an explanation and now you’re going to tell me you couldn’t stand to be in the same room as me?!”

“You don’t understand…”

“What don’t I understand?!”

“I couldn’t be in the same room with you after I realized something…”

“What did you realize, huh? What was so groundbreaking that you couldn’t even stand to see me?”

“That I was freaking in love with you!” Your mouth hung open. You had mulled over the thought of loving Shawn in the weeks you were apart, but you dismissed it every time, not believing you could have allowed yourself to fall in love with your best friend. Shawn stared at you with bated breath, his silence slowly killing you from the inside. 

Just as you were about to hide under your blanket in embarrassment, you felt something warm covering your mouth and a hand in your hair, his lips moving softly on yours. You sighed into his mouth, wrapping your arms around him eagerly to let him push you back onto your bed. He hovered on top of you, holding you close to him as he kissed you with every ounce of passion inside of him, stealing your breath away completely. His kisses were gentle, but still heavy with emotion. He parted from you to let you both catch your breaths, placing light kisses to your cheeks. “I am so in love with you, Y/n. You have no idea.” 

He left one last searing kiss on your lips before pulling away and leaning off the bed to retrieve a small wrapped box. “I got you something for Christmas.” 

You gingerly took the small box in your hand, carefully pulling off the paper to reveal a small black box. You looked up at him with curious eyes, but he only nodded his head for you to continue, placing a gentle hand on your thigh. Opening the box, a beautiful silver dove charm was revealed to you on a necklace, the light of your room catching off of it making it shine. “Shawn…” you breathed out, “it’s gorgeous.”

“It’s a dove. You know, the symbol of Aphrodite,” he smiled at you nervously, “Do you like it?”

“Of course, I love it. Put it on for me?”

Shawn pulled your back into his chest and brushed your hair out of the way to place the delicate necklace around you. Once the necklace was clasped, he left the softest of kisses to your shoulder. “There you go. Perfect for my little Aphrodite.”

[lady-of-the-lotus]

Xue Yang has brought Xiao Xingchen back to life. With the daozhang having no memory of the day he died, the two couldn't be happier.

But as for Song Lan…

Trapped in a paperman form by Xue Yang and imprisoned in a glass jar, he’s forced to watch his greatest enemy play house with a still-healing Xiao Xingchen.

Something Xue Yang is doing a horrifically good job of.

Xuexiao & unrequited Songxiao - M (T tbh) - 2.4k - Read on AO3! This is actually pretty fluffy, so be warned

* * * *

The jar is as tall and wide as a man’s hand. Inverted, it sits on the windowsill facing the Coffin House’s only room, giving Song Lan a full view of the bed.

Xue Yang has placed the jar there on purpose, he knows. So that he can’t help but watch Xue Yang lie beside Xingchen every night, watch him hold him when he wakes from the nightmares he’s been plagued with since his return, watch him smooth his sweaty hair from his face, watch him whisper the terror away and pull him close.

As a fierce corpse he had been compelled to stand by while Xue Yang committed atrocities, but worse was watching Xingchen awaken with a gasping cry in the center of a demonic array, was the horrifying realization that Xingchen remembers nothing of that world-shattering day six years before, remembers nothing of the monster’s true face.

He had stood there and watched as Xingchen clung to the monster, watched Xue Yang put his foul hands on him and lift him from the bloodstained array, watched Xue Yang carry him into the house while Song Lan remained outside in the rain.

And then, the next morning, as Xingchen slept, worn out from the ritual, Song Lan had been forced to stand motionless and silent in the courtyard while Xue Yang removed his consciousness and inserted it into a paperman. Heaved Song Lan's body into a coffin like so much trash, tucked his paperman form inside his robe, and gone inside to Xingchen as if nothing had happened.

“A neighborhood girl tripped and fell,” he heard Xue Yang telling Xingchen, who was awoken by the single cry of agony Xue Yang had allowed him. “A bit of a whiner. I helped her find her mother.”

And then he had placed the little paperman under the jar, and Song Lan, unable to close his nonexistent eyes, and too horrified to look away, had watched.

Watched Xue Yang slide into bed beside Xingchen.

Watched him stroke his hair.

Watched him brush a possessive thumb over each empty eye socket.

Watched him eye Song Lan as he tied on the blindfold, smirking, as if mocking Song Lan for what had happened on Baoshan Sanren’s mountain.

But almost worse is the sickening domesticity.

The monster cooks. He cleans. He shops. He sits very still while Xingchen braids his hair, the one thing Xingchen seems to be interested in since his return. He sits for hours simply watching Xingchen meditate, devouring him with his eyes as he fidgets with his own hair, pulling it out of Xingchen's careful braids.

And Xingchen—

Song Lan rests his head on the cold glass of the jar’s walls.

Xingchen is just as beautiful as he’s remembered all these years. Just as good, just as pure. A wraithlike figure in white, something not of this world. Something better than this world. A creature of moonlight and mist sharing a bed with a beast.

At least his nightmares have gradually stopped as time goes on. Nothing to do with the monster beside him, Song Lan knows. The nightmares can’t be about anyone other than Xue Yang himself. And the gradual lightening of Xingchen’s tone when he speaks, the growing frequency of his smiles, his blooming interest in the world around him, have nothing to do with Xue Yang. If Song Lan could never bring Xiao Xingchen out of his dark moods, if he always relied on a street performer, a storyteller, a passing dog or child or even a cathartic thunderstorm, there is no way that Xue Yang ever could.

The pleasure Song Lan takes in knowing the monster has not completely erased the melancholy is blotted out by guilt at his own feelings.

One day, after Xingchen has not left that tainted bed for three days, Xue Yang removes the glass jar and lifts Song Lan off the windowsill.

“Here, daozhang,” he says, digging a fingernail into Song Lan’s fragile paper leg, daring him to try to escape, “I made you a paperman. Remember those?”

“A-Qing used to love them…”

A shadow crosses Xue Yang’s face. “I promised you I’ll find a way to bring her back too, daozhang. But only once you’re fully better. We don’t want her to worry about you, do we?”

“No…”

“Then here. Take this.” Xue Yang sets Song Lan down in Xingchen’s cupped palms.

A shudder runs through Song Lan at the touch of Xingchen’s skin. For the first time since he’s died, he can feel warmth. Xingchen’s solemn white face is mere inches away as Xingchen lifts Song Lan, one fingertip running around the edges of Song Lan’s paper body. Frantically he jumps up and down in Xingchen’s palm, trying to signal to him, trying to let him know something is wrong, very wrong—

“It’s waving at you,” says Xue Yang, and Xingchen smiles for the first time in days.

And now Song Lan watches them leave for night-hunts together, watches them return happy and breathless with blood speckling the hem of their robes, watches Xue Yang fixedly stare at Xingchen as he undresses, stripping him naked with his repugnant gaze.

Watches the oblivious Xingchen leave the monster gifts, watches the monster sneer at the jar each morning as he takes the candy off the bed, watches the monster slip the candy in his mouth as if he’s consuming a part of Xingchen himself.

“I bought you seeds,” Xue Yang tells Xingchen one morning, a month after Xingchen returned, a year, a decade; Song Lan can’t tell. He can’t sleep, has no respite from his thoughts, and the days and night have blurred into a hazy nightmare. “I thought you might like to garden.”

Xingchen’s face lights up.

Song Lan has never seen him smile like that before.

“You remembered,” he says softly.

Xue Yang grins at Xingchen, winking at Song Lan. “I promised you a garden, daozhang, and I keep my word.”

Song Lan is filled with a cold rage, though he’s not sure whom it’s directed at. Xingchen had always wanted a garden, to put down literal and figurative roots, to sow life after so many years spent with a blade in his hand.

It seems like a lifetime ago since he’d told this to Song Lan, lying awake one one night during their travels. Whispered it to him as if it were a dark secret, as if he didn’t think he should have those desires, as if settling down was selfish, as if it meant he could no longer help people.

That was the night they had first spoken of founding their own sect. Of what it would mean. Song Lan had promised Xingchen a garden on the sect grounds…

A flower garden, Song Lan had promised. Xingchen had wanted a vegetable garden like the ones back on his mountain, but Song Lan had preferred flowers. No filthy fertilizer needed, no rotting compost or constant care. They would be away frequently, he had pointed out, training new disciples and night-hunting, and Xingchen wouldn’t have time to tend to a vegetable garden….

And Xingchen had agreed, he reminds himself. Xingchen agreed to a flower garden...

Xue Yang has torn up a large section of the sunniest part of the courtyard, right outside Song Lan’s window. Song Lan watches as they till the earth, watches as they spread fertilizer, watches as Xingchen plants seeds.

Watches him squeeze the monster’s hand in thanks. Watches the terrible joy on the monster’s face as he realizes the success of his manipulation. Watches Xingchen’s delight as he feels the first shoots poke up through the earth. Watches him work for hours side by side with the monster, weeding and watering and pinching insects off the leaves.

Watches Xingchen’s smiles grow more and more frequent, hears his laughter come more readily.

Watches him turn the Coffin House into a home.

The first buds are hanging fat and yellow on the vine when Xingchen turns to Xue Yang. They're in bed early, bathed in the soft pink glow of sunset, lying there listening to Xue Yang tell stories. Xue Yang is in just his trousers, Xingchen in his thin white inner robe, made pink by the blushing light. Song Lan cannot feel the air but the evening seems warm, the door left open with a quiet breeze rustling the poems left on the table.

“Chengmei,” he hears Xingchen say, “I…”

“What is it?” Xue Yang nuzzles Xingchen’s neck, and Song Lan wishes he had a mouth to scream with. The sight of the foul creature touching Xingchen, soiling him with his filth—

Song Lan had never dared so much as touch Xingchen. Song Lan had never dared lay so much as a finger on him, no matter how much he may have confusingly wanted to. Song Lan had treated him as he deserved to be treated—

Xingchen’s voice is soft. “…Thank you for my garden.”

“Our garden,” Xue Yang says, almost teasingly. He’s playing with Xingchen’s hair, twirling the silken black strands around his finger, sliding it over his lip as if he likes the feel of its smoothness. “The flowers are about to open, I think, not that I know the first thing about gardening.”

“I think you’ve done wonderfully.”

“Well, those farming books helped.”

Xingchen swallows. Song Lan knows that swallow. He wants to ask something, and he’s not sure how it will be received. “I….”

“Don’t be shy, daozhang.” Xue Yang presses his face against the spotless white marble of Xingchen’s throat, inhaling deeply. “I know you want a new roof with jade tiles and red trim, maybe a gold-leaf tea set...”

Xingchen laughs. “Not exactly. I was, well…”

He blushes.

Song Lan has never seen him blush like that before.

Xingchen’s hand moves slightly, resting gently on Xue Yang’s waist, and the monster sits up with a start, biting his lip with a sharp white tooth. “All that wet dew on the buds give you ideas?” he says, and it’s so vulgar, so completely unmoored from anything preceding it, that Song Lan, stoic as he is, would have gasped had he any lungs.

And Xingchen laughs.

A red-faced, embarrassed laugh, but a laugh with mirth in it too. “That’s not quite —”

Xue Yang pins him to bed and kisses him full on the mouth.

Song Lan mentally holds his breath. Xingchen will shove him away, scratch him, fling him off him with words of icy reprobation—

Xingchen wraps his legs around Xue Yang and kisses him back.

A chill of horror freezes Song Lan’s paper body.

“I’ve waited for this for years,” Xue Yang breathes, and Xingchen pulls him down closer, devouring his mouth with his, fingers curling into Xue Yang’s bare back, leaving faint pink lines in the scarred skin.

“So is this why you brought me back?” Xingchen asks when he finally pulls away.

Song Lan has never heard him be so teasing before.

Xue Yang’s eyes widen. In all their years together, it’s the first time Song Lan has seen that shade of alarm on him. “You know I’ve never once so much—all I did was, you were the one who—I would have been more than fine simply—”

“I’m joking, A-Mei,” says Xingchen, and, smiling, he pulls Xue Yang back down, rolls him over on his back—

Song Lan looks away.

Tries to, anyway.

But merely hearing Xingchen whisper endearments to the monster, hear the pants and moans and whimpers, is even worse. There is no way it can be as dreadful as his imagination makes things out to be—

Xue Yang, spread out under Xingchen, looks Song Lan dead in the face and grins.

And Xingchen, pale skin flushed pink, back arched, lost to all thought other than the beast beneath him—

Song Lan looks away again.

It seems like an eternity before the bed stops rocking into the wall, before the pants and gasps die down to a dreamy hum.

“I missed you,” Xue Yang murmurs into Xingchen’s mouth, holding him tightly to his chest, fingers buried deep in his hair. “I never thought that..I never…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Chengmei…not before we harvest, anyway. I want to taste the sweet peas I worked so hard on.”

Xue Yang pulls away from Xingchen.

Xingchen sits up, reaching for him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“I was just joking, A-Mei.” Xingchen’s hand slides down Xue Yang’s bare arm, clasping his wrist. “This is our home now. We can even adopt a dog if you want.”

Xue Yang swallows hard, but his lips twitch. He looks at Song Lan again, but his eyes dart away quickly, as if the monster is actually capable of true emotion. “I’m more of a cat person myself.”

“Two cats, then.” Xingchen sits behind Xue Yang, sliding his arms around him. “We can name them Yin and Yang.”

Xue Yang laughs. “Is that the best you got?”

Xingchen wrinkles his nose. Song Lan has never seen him so relaxed before. “You come up with the names, then, and I’ll find the kittens.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Xue Yang rises, gently untangling Xingchen’s hand. Naked, he pads to the door and stands gazing out over the starlit courtyard. The once-grim courtyard has erupted in a riot of life over the past few months, each coffin an island in a sea of greenery, with wayward vines twining up over Song Lan’s window and framing the panes.

“Look,” he says, almost inaudibly. “The buds are opening…”

Xingchen wraps himself in his robe and comes to stand beside Xue Yang. “ ‘Look’?”

Xue Yang grins suddenly and grabs Xingchen’s wrist, tugging him out into the moon-drenched garden. He whispers something Song Lan can’t catch and Xingchen laughs, the laugh floating in to Song Lan on the soft night breeze.

“Yellow flowers,” he hears Xue Yang saying. “Yellow flowers clinging to green vines wound around tall bamboo trellises, purple buds on the end of thick drooping stems, a carpet of green waving in the breeze…”

“I never knew you were such a poet, Chengmei.”

“You’re rubbing off on me, daozhang…” He raises a suggestive eyebrow, then hesitates, as if fearing he’s gone too far.

But Xingchen laughs, so hard Xue Yang has to slip his arms around him to keep him upright. And Xingchen trips, dragging them both down into a row of bok choy.

Song Lan looks away, but Xingchen’s laugh is all around him, dancing through the garden, filling the small glass jar.

He's ever heard him laugh like that before.

AO3! If you liked this, spare a reblog for a humble fic writer? 👉👈

[acciofanfics]

Could You Shut The Door? (Newt Scamander)

Pairing: Newt Scamander x FemReader

Warnings: Not smut... but almost. A very shy Newt, and I think that’s it?

Summary: An excited Newt barges into your room and quickly becomes a very nervous Newt who got quite the eyeful. 

A/N: So this will turn into smut, I just started typing and it started to get lengthy so I figured I’d turn it into a 2 parter. Hopefully this isn’t too OOC and that’s about it! Let us know if there’s anyone else in the HP-verse that you’d like to see in a similar situation or a more wholesome one 😂 - S

(Y/N) had always been close with the Scamander’s. Her family lived right down the street for years, so she’d grown up with Theseus and Newt. And given the fact that their parents were close as well it was no surprise that she would stay with the Scamander’s for a few nights. In fact, they would be taking her to King’s Cross to board the Hogwarts Express in three days time.

What was surprising was the scene that Newt was beholding. He hadn’t meant to just barge into the room that (Y/N) was staying in; he had been just so excited about spotting the fairy they were trying to lure into the garden that he completely forgot about the concept of knocking. As excitable as he had been to come running into her room, Newt now stood frozen and wide-eyed. (Y/N) stood before him in nothing but what seemed like a smaller than average towel.

Newt didn’t mean to gawk, but he found himself unable to do anything else. (Y/N) was cut from a different cloth than Newt, she seemed to be completely un-phased by the situation, “Umm Newt would you mind just coming in and shutting the door behind you?”

Newt followed the instructions she had laid before him, although he felt like he was doing something wrong she seemed so calm. “So what has you so excited this evening, Newt?”

Newt knew that if his face wasn’t already red that it certainly was now. It wouldn’t be a lie if he were to admit he had harbored a crush on his childhood friend for a few years now, and Newt wasn’t stupid he could see that there were times he let his nervous nature shine through. However, (Y/N) and Newt were pretty much the best of friends and he didn’t usually feel shy around the girl. Now however he was having a hard time even forming a single word, “I- I.. um I mean- I saw a f-fairy in the garden.”

“Seriously?! Is it still out there?! We have to go check!” (Y/N) grabbed Newt’s hand, her towel slipping ever so slightly. One of the reasons Newt found her so alluring was her shared love for creatures, of course he couldn’t really recall many of those reasons at the moment. Only the ones on display in front of him.

Newt grabbed her other hand before she was able to swing the door open. “You’re... not dressed.” He felt weird having to remind the girl. How could she forget? Or at least not care... it was entirely odd.

“Oh! Sorry, that would definitely be embarrassing.” (Y/N) chuckled thinking about how disastrous the situation could’ve been. “Your mum, dad and Theseus seeing me naked would definitely not be appropriate.”

“What about me?” Newt managed to squeak out.

She felt terrible. Clearly the poor boy was about to faint and she remained oblivious to it until he brought it up. Something about Newt always put her at ease, she couldn’t ever think of a moment around him that she had ever felt embarrassed or insecure. Except for this one where the thought crossed her mind that she had been taking the comfort he provided her for granted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize... and that sounds stupid. I should’ve! Of course this would bother you!”

As strange as he found (Y/N) being at ease, he didn’t much prefer her feeling uncomfortable. “I’m not bothered- I just- I mean- you’re... and I’m... I can’t help but- I’ve kinda- please make me shut up.”

They were definitely close enough for (Y/N) to know what was going on. She’d had suspicions that he returned her feelings, but she also knew of other classmates he was close with so she hadn’t wanted to assume. Of course there was probably no hope of their relationship returning to innocent, oblivious friendship. In a moment of bravery, she released his hands and dropped her towel.

Newt felt himself swallow loudly and he swore he his heart was beating so fast that he could hear the thumping in his ears. He kept his eyes locked on hers, it was quite difficult to do. He asked her to shut him up and boy did she. “You can look, Newt.”

He still hesitated for a moment, afraid it might be a trap or a dream (he’d had similar ones before). But soon his resolve broke and he looked (Y/N) up and down. He was 17 years old and he wasn’t stupid, he definitely thought about this, he just prided himself on being a gentleman enough to push those fantasies to the depths of his mind. She was gorgeous though, every inch of her exposed to him, it was hard to keep those thoughts at bay now.

“I’m hoping your silence is approval.”

“Merlin, yes...” he didn’t know if he could come up with a coherent sentence, “Can I...”

She smiled and nodded. He thanked the heavens up above that she wouldn’t make him finish; he wasn’t sure he could handle it. His hands reached out for hers slowly and she chuckled when he paused again. Newt frowned slightly, he wasn’t sure what she expected from him. This was a lot to process... he wasn’t as brave or outgoing and she was (that was probably why she was sorted into Gryffindor much to his dismay). Feeling disheartened by the laugh his grip on her hands loosened a bit, he was all but ready to drop them completely and retreat to his room or to a cold shower one.

(Y/N) meant nothing by the chuckle other than her fondness over his demeanor. Feeling his semblance of confidence wavering, (Y/N) dropped his hands and before Newt even had a moment to feel disappointed she had grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down so she could kiss him. Newt had always been rather tall and lanky, especially compared to her so while she would’ve preferred not resorting to drastic measures like yanking his clothes it was really the only way.

Newt hadn’t minded the assertiveness after all, in fact it was comforting. He melted into her kiss and found himself unintentionally moving closer. Newt had kissed a girl before, but this was definitely different. The way she moved her lips against his was a different sensation than he’d experienced before and it was all that he could do to keep up with her and he only tore away from her when it was physically necessary to breathe.

“I’m sorry... I’m not... I haven’t had a lot of practice.” Newt admitted hesitantly, but he felt he owed her an explanation. He didn’t want to disappoint her.

“Well if that’s the case, you’re a natural Mr. Scamander.” (Y/N) offered up a reassuring smile. “Although, is if you’d like more practice we could-“

“Yes!” His cheeks reddened at his own outburst, but he smiled cheekily at her.

“You know it’d be much easier if you’d sit down. You���re a bit tall.” She led him to the bed where he sat on the edge. Newt glanced to the side where he expected her to sit beside him, but his breath got caught in his throat when she placed herself on top of him. For the first time he thought he may have seen her second guess herself, “Is this alright?”

Unable to speak again Newt just nodded lamely. He hoped that he wasn’t making her feel like she was pushing him into something he didn’t want to do. Of course she was pushing him a little, but into something he definitely wanted. This was something he imagined quite a few nights, of course in his dreams he wasn’t acting nearly as pathetic. With (Y/N) sitting literally on top of him there surely wasn’t a way she couldn’t feel that he definitely approved of her straddling him, but just in case he willed himself to not act so afraid. Newt placed his hands onto her waist.

It wasn’t quite as forward as he could’ve been, but she was dealing with Newt Scamander, the sweetest and shyest person she knew. She smiled and reconnected their mouths. Newt seemed a little more at ease this time, as strange as it sounded it was it did seem quite natural for his lips to be moving against hers. They just seemed to move in sync, occasionally their tongues would brush and her teeth scrape his lips making his grip on her waist tighten. He was prepared to apologize for the pressure, but when she broke away she attached her lips to his neck and the only thing he could do in retaliation was dig his fingers into her flesh further. She shifted her hips slightly to get better access, when she did so Newt could help but let out a small moan. (Y/N)‘s lips twitched into a smile against his skin. “Newt, your parents are downstairs. We should be quiet... I mean if you want to continue?”

Read Part Two Here.

[horansqueen]

New Angel - Chapter 17

story masterlist [x]

chapter 1  ☆ chapter 2  ☆ chapter 3  ☆ chapter 4  ☆ chapter 5  ☆ chapter 6  ☆ chapter 7  ☆ chapter 8 ☆ chapter 9 ☆ chapter 10 ☆ chapter 11 ☆ chapter 12 ☆ chapter 13 ☆ chapter 14 ☆ chapter 15 ☆ chapter 16

NOTES

☆ written from Niall’s pov ☆ i don’t proofread, I never do, I hate it. ☆ AU comedy/fluff/smut/romance ☆ 2.5k ☆ i accept requests and ideas for this story, so message me in my inbox! ☆ if you want to be notified when this story is updated (or be taken off the update list) CLICK HERE

NIALL

As soon as I entered the bar, the smell of cigarettes invaded my nose. I raised it up slightly and tried to follow Millie through the mob of people already gathered near the scene. A few more were sitting at tables with a drink and I let my eyes roam around quickly until I felt a hand reach for mine. Millie squeezed my fingers and pulled on my hand gently. I was not really sure if it was so I would walk quicker or if she was just scared we'd lose each other but I squeezed her fingers back, apologizing as I pushed people on my way.

We ended up in front of the scene and I glanced back to see if anyone was pissed at us for stealing their spot until the lights turned down and everyone started screaming. Three guys appeared on stage and immediately started playing. One of them sent a smile to my best friend, greeting her with a small chin movement and a wink, and she smiled back, waving slightly.

When Millie proposed that we'd go see one of her friends' band play tonight, I didn't expect it to be in some unknown bar with a bunch of drunk losers but the atmosphere was nice and after the third song, I realized that I actually enjoyed the music even if it was not the type I normally listen to.

Millie was jumping around, dancing pretty much in the same way she did in the living room of our apartment, and it made me smile. I watched her for a few minutes until she turned around and bent down slightly to grab one of my hands. Without thinking, I pulled on it and made her twirl around. I couldn't hear her laughter but I saw her laugh when she faced me again and she pulled on my arm, inciting me to join her. We danced for a few minutes before I actually started feeling at ease but I couldn't help it and from time to time, I made her twirl around just to see her smile grown every single time.

I don't know how many songs they played or for how long but when they finally left to stage, I was panting and exhausting but the smile plastering my face wouldn't leave. We walked to the bar and its only when Millie let go of my hand to lean her elbows on the counter that I realized we had been hand in hand the whole time, even as we walked up to order drinks. It didn't bother me. In fact, it felt quite nice to get some human contact, and I stared at my friend as she ordered some fancy drink.

"So, how did you like it?" Millie asked, raising her eyebrows.

I blinked a few times, getting out of my thoughts slowly and my lips curled again. "They're amazing! How do you know them?"

Her nose raised up in a grimace and she shrugged a shoulder. "I dated the guitarist."

"Oh." I just said, a bit surprised.

He didn't seem to be her type but I didn't comment anything and just ordered a beer.

"Yea, I know. But I really liked him." she explained with a shrug, looking away.

"You don't have tio justify yourself, Mill." I pointed out, reaching for her arm and squeezing it gently.

She turned to me and sent me a smile but I jumped slightly when someone actually touched me. I turned around meeting the brown eyes of a gorgeous brunette who was sending me a smile, her head slightly tilted.

"Hey, uhm, I was wondering if you wanted to buy me a drink?"

I felt Millie's arm slip away from my hand but I remained motionless as I stared at the girl smiling at me. I was already having problems deciding between two girls, adding a third one to the story, even if only for one night, was way too much to handle at the moment. Besides, I knew she was gorgeous but for some reason, I was not attracted much. Perhaps the fact that I was not over Grace yet and that I was sort of seeing Summer didn't help but it didn't matter.

"I'm sorry, maybe an other day."

The girl's smile faltered for half a second and she finally just shrugged. "You don't know what you're missing."

She turned around and left, pushing her hair off her shoulder and it made me chuckle and shake my head. Somehow, she reminded me of Grace and it annoyed me. Was she really like Grace or was I just too obsessed with my ex girlfriend, resulting in me seeing her literally everywhere?

"Wow, that was awkward." I pointed out with an amused smile, turning to Millie who just raised her eyebrows.

"Imagine for me."

I frowned and moved my head but just as I was about to ask her what she meant, that guy from the band (and her ex boyfriend) appeared. She turned to him, sending him a big smile, and threw herself in his arms. He held her tight, lifting her of a few inches for two or three seconds and finally put her back down. I had no idea why but he was annoying me but I was not going to mention it.

I followed them to a table and somehow, as I watched them interact, I realized that I barely knew anything about the old relationships Millie had had before Louis. I couldn't understand how I had not been interested in befriending this girl before and it was crazy to think we could have had this friendship years before if we had taken the time to talk.

Millie and Peter talked for half an hour and every time he made her laugh, I frowned and I was not sure why. It was a bit scary to think she could want to go back to this guy because of how badly Louis had hurt her and at the same time, I would understand if she wanted to throw herself into something new if only to forgot or try to move on. After all, I had started some sort of relationship with Summer even if I was clearly not ready to move on from Grace.

I got out of my thoughts and held my breath when I noticed Millie leaning her head against his shoulder and just quickly got up to get an other drink. I knew it was better if I gave them some space but when I walked back to the table, Millie was getting up. I frowned as she turned to me and sent me a smile and I couldn't help but smile back at her.

"Do you want to leave?"

"If it's okay with you."

I nodded and took a long sip of my beer before handing it to her. She smiled a bit and took it from my hand, swallowing what was left and leaving it on the table.

"Thank you."

"Of course, pet."

I was expecting her to complain about the nickname but she just walked past me and I followed her until we were out of the bar. We remained silent for a while as we walked to my car and after a while, I just licked my lips and glanced at her.

"Did something happen with Peter?" I asked softly, making her turn around and frown at me. "You seem... I don't know... sad."

Millie avoided my gaze and brought her shoulder up as she wrapped her arms around her waist. Without thinking, I took my hoodie off and handed it to her. She stopped walking and looked at the navy sweater in my hands before shaking her head slightly.

I didn't insist but let my arm fall down next to me with a sigh. "What's wrong, Mill?"

She sighed too but turned around to keep walking. It's only when we reached my car that she leaned her butt against it and closed her eyes. I took a step closer in an attempt to hide her from the cool wind and waited.

"That girl earlier, the one who flirted with you." she paused and licked her lips, keeping her eyes closed. "She knew someone like you would never date someone like me. It didn't even cross her mind that we could be together, even if we had danced together, even if we held hands and even if you were holding my arm when she arrived. She knew. And I know I normally don't give much attention to these things but... it hurt. This time, it really hurt."

"That girl was entitled and a bit stupid." I explained, moving closer and putting my hands on her shoulders. "That's probably why she flirted. I also know a few girls who really dont care if the guy is taken or not. To be quite honest, she most likely didn't even notice you! She was probably obsessed with how handsome I am."

"Oh shut up!" Millie laughed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"Mill, anyone would be lucky to date you."

"Oh yea? So you'd date an average fat girl?"

My traits softened and in the way she had talked, I could hear all the pain she was feeling at the moment. It was crazy how I seemed to connect to Millie, probably because both our hearts were broken and we could understand each other.

"You know who I'd date? I'd date someone I love, someone I trust. I'd date someone who cares about me, and that I care about. Someone who listens to me, makes me laugh, someone empathic, kind... someone who helps me become a better person, a better version of myself. Someone I'm at ease with and feel safe around. Someone I connect with. It doesn't matter if that person is fat or skinny, tall or short, Blonde or brunette. It's not what matters."

Millie stared in my eyes for about a minute, nibbling on her bottom lip and finally licked it.

"Wow, I always thought you were shallow." she admitted in a very low tone, making me raise my eyebrows.

"What? Why?"

She raised her nose up, a bit embarrassed by her word and finally shrugged a shoulder. "Because of the type of girls you date."

"God I hate when you day that." I confessed, letting my hands slip on her arms and fall on each side of me. "I hate that you think I'm like that. When you mentioned it at the bar, it really hurt me, or annoyed me. Or both. That's why I picked Summer, because she was the complete opposite of the description you gave of my 'type'." I added, doing quotation marks with my fingers as I said the last word. "I don't want you to see me as a shallow man who cares only about the body or whatever."

"I don't see you like that." she whispered. My eyes met hers and my heart skipped a beat. "I mean, I used to, it's true. But in the past few weeks, I got to know you and... I love what I see, Niall. You're a good guy with a heart of gold. You're funny, smart, open-minded... And that thing you said about the person you'd date? That was deep, I love it."

Slowly, my lips curled on the right and I nodded. I suddenly felt lighter, knowing that Millie didn't see me as a horrible and shallow person anymore.

"I was wrong about you, Niall."

"Yea, I was wrong about you too."

Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around her neck and pulled her closer. I felt her hands on my back and leaned my cheek against her head for a while before finally pulling away and bending down slightly to look in her eyes.

"Ready to go home?"

"Fuck yes." she chuckled, nodding frenetically. "I need my sweatpants and a warm tea!"

"You can still put my hoodie on, you know." I proposed with a smile as I walked around the car.

"I told you, Niall, your clothes don't fit me."

I lost my smile, not knowing what to answer, and finally just opened the door to sit behind the wheel. When we walked back home, Millie walked to her room and I walked to mine, putting sweatpants and a t-shirt on before searching through my drawers. I walked back to the living room, seeing my friend already sitting on the couch wearing pretty much the same outfit as me. I sat next to her and handed her an other hoodie, making her frown.

"Please, try it on."

Her gaze moved from the hoodie to my eyes, then back at the hoodie. She licked her lips nervously and finally grabbed it and put it on very quickly. A big smile drew itself on my lips when she raised her eyebrows, staring at the front of the shirt she was now wearing.

"Perfect." I pointed out in a low tone. Her head moved up quickly and her eyes met mine before I leaned against the couch, still looking at her. "It's yours, now."

I watched her traits soften and her expression change into a loving one. She tilted her head again and brought her shoulders closer to her cheeks as she nibbled on her bottom lip some more. "Thanks, Niall."

"You're totally welcome."

I placed my arm on my thigh, palm up and fingers spread. A bigger smile appeared on her lips and she placed her hand in mine before we intertwined our fingers together. I started the next episode of a new tv show we were watching together and smiled more when I felt her head on my shoulder.

I thought about Grace suddenly, and then about Summer. It made me realize we hadn't talked about them or about Louis at all on that evening, and that the lists we were supposed to fill were totally forgotten but somehow, it made me feel good. I didn't want to think about it, I didn't want to feel nervous about the fact that I was supposed to pick the girl I wanted to be with in less than three days.

I also felt like Millie was happier when we didn't mention Louis and I just hoped he wouldn't show up while we were watching tv together, knowing it would literally ruin Millie's night.

We would probably fill the lists on the next day and I found comfort in the thought of sharing that with Millie. I don't know what I'd do if I'd have to go through all of this by myself.

After a while, I felt Millie's head heavier on my shoulder and noticed that her breathing had slowed down. I looked at her, trying not to move too much to make sure I wouldn't wake her up, and noticed she was asleep, her lips slightly parted. I don't know how long I stayed motionless with Millie sleeping against me but eventually I fell asleep too, realizing I hadn't felt that light and happy in a very long time.

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust / 6

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---

6. to dream

    When you woke up the next morning, the sky was still dark through the curtains. You’d slept well again, although it was soured once more by the rising panic in your throat as you woke up. Reluctantly clambering from under the warm covers, you tiptoed to the door, cracking it open a little and peering outside. 

    Zhongli was not in the living room. You couldn’t tell if the resulting rush of emotions were from relief or disappointment. Was he still asleep? It was hard to imagine him sleeping — hard to imagine him ever vulnerable. You emerged from the room and noticed a note pinned to the door.

    In the most elegant scrawl that you’d seen in your life, it read:

    “I am on my morning walk. I have left you a spare robe and towels under the sink, should you decide to take a bath. I will return as quickly as possible.”

    At the bottom, inked in a scarlet name seal, was his name, and the characters “Wangsheng” — rebirth, whatever that entailed. Somehow, you weren’t even a little surprised that he had a fancy name seal stamp and used it to sign off memo notes with. 

    You scurried to the bathroom, taking longer than you would have liked to admit to figure out how to turn on the water — even his tap was vastly fancier than the one behind Wenqi Souvenirs that you tended to use sometimes. The water warmed almost immediately against the palm of your hand, filling the bathroom with hot steam. While letting the tub fill, you wandered over to the sink and opened the cupboard under it. As Zhongli’s note promised, there was a pristine white towel, and a neatly folded-up black robe. 

    Shaking it out, you marveled at how beautiful it was — it was clearly intended for a much taller man, yet it seemed like it might fit you. A golden trim ran down the edges of the black fabric, and the cloth itself seemed to glow under the dim light. Most strikingly, the material was astounding — it was the softest thing you’d ever touched. You buried your face into it, and oh—

    It smelled heavenly, of faint flora, warm spice and the soil after a light spring shower. 

    It smelled like Zhongli. 

    Before realizing it, you’d taken a deep breath with your nose pressed against the fabric. And another, and another. You didn’t understand it, but even though you had never known any of these things, the scent reminded you of stability, concord, and peace. 

    The sound of running water brought you back out of your reverie. The tub was close to overflowing, and you rushed to go turn off the tap, the robe now forgotten over the sink. 

    You peeled off the dress that was beginning to feel like an extension of your skin, and lowered your body into the water. The hot water made your skin prickle, but it seemed to drag the fatigue, exhaustion and anxiety right out of your marrow. 

    If Zhongli permitted it, you decided, you were going to have a bath every day. 

    As the heat soothed you in places that you didn’t even know had muscle, you glanced down at your body. The dirt and grime had come off into the swirling water, revealing yellow-purple bruises. You’d always known you were unsightly, a skinny bag of skin and bones and grime, but next to Zhongli—

    You hadn’t stopped thinking about what he’d said last night. Letting the water reach the top of your lips as you sank down, you wondered to yourself if you could believe him. Could you begin to believe that Zhongli had no intentions of hurting you, using you? You wanted to, certainly, but…

    “Hansi?” You froze at the sound of Zhongli calling your name from outside the door. Quickly, all of your prior thoughts forgotten, you leapt out of the tub, wincing as you sloshed water everywhere. 

    “I’m here!” you yelled back, haphazardly wrapping the towel around your hair, slipping into the fancy robe and running for the door. You stumbled into the hallway and immediately bumped into Zhongli — literally, although for a moment it felt like a brick wall you’d just bounced off of. You knew at once that under those three layers of clothing, he was nothing but muscle.

    Before you could land on your bottom and ruin his impression of you even more, Zhongli reached out and caught your shoulders, holding your body upright. His hands were rough and strong, but his grip against your skin was gentle, as always. Briefly, you wondered why his hands were so weathered — surely a nobleman like him has never had to work a day in his life.

    “Thank you for the robe,”, you scrambled to break the heavy silence, neglecting to mention just how many whiffs of it (of him) you had taken in the past hour alone. You felt your cheeks flush at the very thought. “It’s very comfortable.”

    Tilting his head, Zhongli considered you for a moment. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, “I presume that you found my note, then?”

    Looking up into his golden eyes, you nodded too quickly. “Yes, Mr. Zhongli. You have excellent penmanship—“ you trailed off, realizing too late the hole that you had dug yourself and fell headfirst into. Shit.

    Zhongli raised a brow, staring at you — through you. “So it seems that, contrary to your assertion yesterday,” he observed, “you can read, after all.” 

    A dozen possible excuses ran through your head, but his gaze demanded the truth. This was a reminder, you told yourself, a much-needed reminder that he was not your friend, that any familiarity or comfort you’d found in him was strictly your imagination — that he had played you like a gu’zheng and now that he had caught you in a lie— 

    “I— I’m sorry. I-I was— I was afraid—“ you began to stammer, but he raised his hand to stop you.

    “It is my hope, of course, that there are no lies between us,” Zhongli said, his gaze peering into the deepest recesses of your soul. For a chilling moment, you were sure that he knew about the Geo Vision pulsing away at the bottom of your bedside table. 

    There’s logically no way he could know, you told yourself to calm your frayed nerves. He hadn’t even entered your room since you’d arrived. No way he knows.

    “However, given the circumstances, I know that that’s not always possible.” Zhongli continued, glancing at his upturned palm, then back at you. “You can tell me the story behind your ability to read, and your reason for hiding it from me, when you decide you are ready.”

    “Oh,” you exhaled softly. Surprisingly (thankfully), your brain had ceased its habit of stumbling over ‘what?’s each time Zhongli bewildered you with his tolerance. “I— I am truly sorry for lying to you, Mr. Zhongli.”

    If you got a single Mora for every second Zhongli stared at you so intently that it felt like he was dredging out every thought, word, and secret from your head, you’d be able to afford a house of your own by now.

    “I can understand,” he finally said, an unreadable look on his face, “that certain situations sometimes leave us with no choice but the untruth. Now, are you feeling well enough for a trip to the harbor? As lovely as you look in my old robe, Hansi, we really must get you some of your own clothes.”

---

    On the way to the harbor, all you could think of was how he had called you lovely.

---

    If you hadn’t already been convinced that Zhongli was absolutely loaded, watching him shop would have sealed that deal. 

    “I’ll take it,” he said, for the third time that morning. You bowed your head to hide a grimace. Always haggle the price down to at least half of what was initially given when shopping in Liyue — even you knew that. 

    “Come now boss, surely someone as distinguished as you can tell that this vase is an authentic relic from the ancient civilization of Guili—“ The shopkeeper blinked. “Wait, you’ll take it?”

    “Yes.”

    “For forty thousand Mora?” Even the shopkeeper looked bewildered, eyes comically wide. You wondered for a brief moment if you should stop Zhongli from the most blatant scam you’d ever seen. Quickly, you shook yourself free of those stupid thoughts; who were you to tell him what to do with his seemingly infinite supply of wealth?

    “That was the agreed upon price, was it not?” Zhongli said, picking up the vase with a practiced gloved hand. “Invoice it to Wangsheng funeral parlor, please.” 

    There it was again, Wangsheng. That’s where you knew it from. The funeral parlor passed down to the generational head of the wealthy Hu family. You wondered what connections Zhongli had with one of the most powerful families of Liyue. Even having lived with him for three days, he had stayed as much a mystery as the moment you laid eyes on him in that teahouse. 

    As Zhongli spoke to the merchant — no doubt being conned into buying a second vase at twice the price now that the merchant knew of his financial status — you glanced around the store. It seemed to have a little of everything, even dusty weapons on a rack in the back corner. It reminded you that although you’d been kept safe so far, the peace would not last. Not for someone like you. 

    Something glittering on one of the racks caught your eye. It was a necklace, its silver chain appended with a beautiful blue charm, catching the sunbeams in an iridescent bloom. You glanced at Zhongli — oh Archons, was that a third vase he was looking at? — before inching a little closer to look at the necklace. It wasn’t just a charm, you realized — the blue gemstone had been shaped into an intricate blossom. The handiwork it must have taken to carve something so detailed, so gorgeous—

    “What a beautiful necklace,” Zhongli mused from behind you, making you jump. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to how surprisingly silently a man as tall as him could move. “Noctilucuous Jade of this clarity must have been incredibly difficult to find.”

    “Like the ones from the Mingyun Mines,” you recalled from his lecture the previous day. 

    “Exactly. Very good,” Zhongli nodded, his voice unmistakably pleased. Your pride soared at his simple praise. “Do you want this necklace, Hansi?”

    You blinked. “I’m sorry?” 

    “I noticed you looking at it. Would you like me to buy it for you?”

    “Oh,” you stammered, “I couldn’t possibly— someone like me—“ 

    “Please,” Zhongli raised a hand, “let there be only truth between us today.” 

    You did want it, so badly that it ached. A year ago, you wouldn’t have been let anywhere near the door of a shop carrying such expensive and fancy wares. You wouldn’t have dared to steal something this precious, wouldn’t have been able to sell it to the shady folk who fenced your stolen goods. A year ago, you wouldn’t have even dreamed of ever owning something so beautiful. Certainly wouldn’t have dreamed of accepting such an expensive gift from a stranger, not when you knew the price there would be to pay.

Yet in Zhongli’s eyes (they were the exact shade of mora, you noticed absently), there was nothing but earnestness.

    “I do,” you breathed. 

    It was dangerous that you had begun to let yourself dream. 

    “Excuse me. I’ll take this as well,” Without a second thought, Zhongli beckoned to the shop’s owner.

    “What a good eye you have, boss,“ you could see the gears grinding in the man’s head. “That’s uh... a necklace made from the finest Noctilucuous Jade in the nations. Carved in the image of… of a silk flower, the symbol of luxury. It would make a suitable gift for your partner.” 

    You felt your eyes go wide, but Zhongli barely blinked. “You are correct about the quality of the jade, but this is a glaze lily.”

    “I beg your pardon, boss?”

    Touching the necklace lightly, Zhongli turned his gaze to the shopkeeper, and you delighted in watching him squirm — good to know that it wasn’t just you affected by that heavy stare. “This necklace was carved in the image of not a silk flower, but a glaze lily. How much?”

    After a good bit of stammering to try and save face, the shop owner rattled off a price too high for you to even comprehend. Even if you had pooled all the Mora you had ever scrounged together in your life, you wouldn’t have been able to afford it — not in seven lifetimes. But you were reeling over something else. 

    Partner? And Zhongli hadn’t even taken offense to being compared to someone like you, someone who didn’t have a Mora to her name, didn’t even own the clothes on her back. 

    “No need to wrap it,” Zhongli said, and you realized that he had already bought it. Bought it for you. He gestured towards the necklace, still hanging there — but now yours, yours. “I trust that you would like to wear it now?”

    He was talking to you, waiting for your answer. Throat dry and words failing you, you just nodded quickly. You fumbled with its clasp, carefully at first, then desperately. Your nails, bitten to the quick and ragged from digging, were useless in your endeavors. Amidst your futile efforts, you heard the shopkeeper hurry away to help another customer. 

    After what seemed like years, Zhongli offered you an open palm. “Allow me.”

    “Oh,” you whispered, face burning as you handed the jewelry to him. “Yes. Please.” 

    He took it, deftly clicking it open. “May I?” It took you a moment to understand what he was asking. Without barely a thought, you inched closer, baring your neck to him so that he could put it on for you. 

    Zhongli leaned in — close enough to touch, close enough to kiss — and his fingers brushed the back of your neck. It was all you could do to not shiver. You could smell him, that warm scent promising that you might one day know what peace felt like. 

    The seconds dragged on — one, two, three — before he finally pulled away, leaving the necklace cool against the flush of your skin. You let out a breath you didn’t notice you were holding.

    “There,” Zhongli said, a faint smile on his lips. “Lovely.”

---

    By noon, it looked like even Zhongli might start buckling under the weight of all the items he had bought. 

    You’d come away with clothes for occasions you could not even begin to fathom: four bathrobes — silk from the Cuijie mountains —  shoes, house slippers, boots — premium leather from the grasslands of Fontaine — every day clothes, formal clothes, round-collar gowns, court robes — what the fuck are court robes? — and cloth trousers, among other things.

    With every purchase, you expected (anticipated?) the same degree of intimacy of when he put the necklace on you, but each time you were relieved (disappointed?) when he did not. Quickly, the rest of the morning became a routine mantra of: “Is this to your liking?” and “Mr Zhongli, it’s beautiful, but I know nothing of clothing, if you think it to be fitting—“ and “I’ll take it”s. 

    It was only when your stomach let out a mournful rumble that you realized how high in the sky the sun had climbed. You prayed that Zhongli did not hear, but of course, your luck had to run out sometime. 

    “My, look at the time,” he said, and you could tell he was trying to hide a smile. “Let’s have an early lunch, shall we? It would be remiss of me to bring you to Liyue Harbor without stopping at the best restaurant in the city.”

    “Yes, Mr. Zhongli.”

    As you walked, you braced yourself for what sort of restaurant could garner such high praise from an individual like Zhongli. You wished that you had put on one of the fancier clothes that Zhongli had bought you after all, before coming to a stop in front of a small eatery. Despite its position on the main commerce street, it looked wholly unremarkable, with its peeling paint, faded wooden countertop and old tables. 

    Zhongli seated himself at one of them, and beckoned for you to join him. As you hurried to comply, you saw the girl manning the window wave excitedly and hurry over. She was young, dark hair pulled into two buns. At her waist hung a small stuffed bear and bells that jingled with her every animated gesture. “Mr. Zhongli!” She called, balancing two teacups and a teapot on a tray above her head precariously. “Welcome back! Did you manage to take care of your urgent business from the other day?” 

    “Yes, it went well,” Zhongli answered, and you were surprised to hear a soft fondness in his voice. “Is your father not in today, Xiangling?”

    “Nossir, he’s gathering herbs in Qingce Village!” The girl named Xiangling frowned, “you know, he doesn’t know when to stop. I worry about him sometimes. His knee’s been acting up again.”

    “I see. I’ll be sure to bring some caoyào bandages from Bubu Pharmacy by sometime this week.” Zhongli promised with dignified resolve. “They work wonders on the bones—“

    Next to your table, two young men seemed to be having a heated discussion. One of them, with hair the pale blue of a summer sky, gestured furiously at his dish, while the other one — his dark blue hair a stark contrast to the first boy’s — clutched his side and laughed. 

    You wondered idly what it would be like to have friends like that. You wouldn’t know what to say, even if the two boys had approached you at that moment. There was no place for friendship in the ratway alleys of Liyue, and the few times you had tried to initiate one had ended poorly at best, violently at worst. 

    “Hello? Earth to pretty lady!” Xiangling waved a hand in front of your face, jolting you out of your reverie. “Do you know what you want to order?”

    You glanced at Zhongli for help, then had to look away when that overwhelming golden gaze met yours solidly as always. “Do you have any recommendations, Mr. Zhongli?” You asked — if the past day had taught you anything, it was that he always did.

    “Certainly,” he began, taking a deep breath — the only hint of the reckoning to come , “there’s the Black-Back Perch Stew. It’s Monday, which means that the restaurant has just purchased fresh shipment of seafood from the docks, making this a fine choice above all the other items on the menu. However, it’s also worth noting that the Adeptus’ Temptation also contains seafood, in fact, crabs, which are caught on the shores of Guyun and...“ 

    After the eighth dish, he paused to take a breath, and you took the opportunity to carefully tell him that you had caught maybe half of that, and regardless, you had no clue which to choose, still. 

    “We’ll have all of them,” Zhongli decided with an air of finality. Somehow, you had expected that. Xiangling nodded knowingly, as though this was a common occurrence.

    “Should I put this one on the Wangsheng Parlor’s tab, again, Mr. Zhongli?”

    “No,” Zhongli said, and you were surprised to see a small, wry smile on his face. “Please put this one on the tab of Tartaglia of the Fatui.”

    “Of the Fatui?” Xiangling’s lips, curved into an “o”, expressed the same shock you felt. The elite military force of Snezhnaya — that Fatui? To what extent did Zhongli’s connections run? 

    “Yes. Please collect the payment at the Northland Bank — just mention my name, and that it was for a meal. We have an… open-ended contract of sorts.” 

    “Alrighty!” Xiangling had already bounced back from her surprise, and you wondered where in that tiny frame she was storing that boundless energy. “I’ll have your orders coming right up!” 

---

    The silence that followed Xiangling’s departure dragged on for a few painful seconds. You studied the tea leaves in your cup intently, feeling Zhongli’s gaze rending you through. 

    “Now then,” he started, bringing his teacup slowly to his lips, “have you had a good day today, Hansi?”

    “Yes, si—“ You stopped yourself. “Yes, Mr. Zhongli.” Another silence followed, one that you desperately needed to fill. “I cannot thank you enough for your generosity in buying me so many things. I will work hard to ensure I can begin to deserve them.”

    Zhongli placed the cup back down with an audible clack. “Nonsense. You already do.” You were startled at the hard edge of his voice, but it quickly reverted to its normal tranquility. “Besides, I haven’t spent a single Mora of my own today. You have the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor to thank for your bounty.”

    That reminded you to ask. “May I ask, what is Mr. Zhongli’s connection with the famed Wangsheng Parlor?”

    “Why, I work for them. As a consultant,” Zhongli said. 

    Oh. Of all the jobs your imagination had appended upon him since your meeting — assassin, mafia boss, black market dealer, eldest son and heir to a long lost clan of wealth and nobility, to name a few — this was somehow the most surprising. 

    “As a funeral consultant, Mr. Zhongli?” Surely this was just a side job for him, a hobby? But what a morbid one it was!

    “Not quite. Although I do offer the odd advice on mortal— er, on normal funerals when it’s needed of me.” Zhongli took a long sip of tea, as though carefully considering his next words.  “I specialize in the traditional arts of the Rite of Parting. The sending-off of the divine.”

    “Like, Archons?” You whispered. 

    “Like the Adepti,” he corrected gently. “Although in Liyue’s case, yes, Archon and Adepti were one and the same.”

    Was he talking about Rex Lapis? You shuddered at the thought of Rex Lapis ever needing a funeral. All those books you’d read about him, tales of his valiant stands and brutal fights. Surely nothing in the mortal realm today could even touch him. 

    “How do you know how to carry out the Adepti’s Rites, Mr. Zhongli?” You wondered aloud. Silly — the man literally had a library in the upper floor of his home; of course there would be a ritual book or two in his possession. Yet his answer took long to come, and surprised you. 

    “I have a good memory,” he said, with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Though I did have to get a little help with the most recent Rite of Parting. It’s been a long time since there’s been the need for a ritual so grand.” 

    Recent? Had an adepti died recently? The only news you’d managed to hear in the past few months had come from the lips of drunken guards, and not even half of it had been coherent. You opened your mouth to ask, but was shut up quickly by the most mouth-watering scent you’d ever been graced with in your life.

    “It looks like our food is here,” Zhongli gestured to Xiangling, who was running at full speed towards your table, this time with two steaming trays balanced on her head. “I certainly hope you’ve got an appetite today as well.” 

---

    You were proud to be able to say that you ate at a human-esque pace this time, stopping at the first hint of fullness. You would not have a repeat of the embarrassment of last night. 

    “This is sho good,” you finally said, between your last few bites. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

    “Xiangling’s cooking never disappoints,” Zhongli agreed. “Shall we head home, now?”

    “What, before spending Wangsheng Funeral Parlor into bankruptcy?” you teased carefully, and you were pleased to earn a hearty chuckle from Zhongli. 

---

    Lying in bed that night, you admitted the answer to your question from that morning — you did believe Zhongli. You were beginning to let yourself grow complacent, to trust, to hope — you would be lying to yourself if you said otherwise.

    You’d also be lying to yourself if you didn’t acknowledge how stupid, how hideously dangerous that sort of thinking was for someone like you. While you were no longer as sure as you were that Zhongli was trying to take advantage of you, you were far from out of the lion’s den. What would Zhongli do if he found out about the Geo Vision in your drawers? When he figured out you had been lying to him, that Rex Lapis had granted you the same powers as he did him? When he figured out what you were planning to use your Vision to do?

    If Zhongli turned out to be like the others… You could scarcely even bear the thought. 

    Gripped with a sudden, ugly rage, you pushed back the covers and quietly crept to the bedside drawer. Under the scrolls and paintings, your Vision pulsed its soft golden glow. You brushed gently against the gem, feeling your fingertips tingle with the power of the Archons, of the power of Rex Lapis. Against your skin, your new necklace felt hot. For the first time since you were born, you felt strong.

    霸王. Bawang. 

    That’s all you knew of the name of the organization that had dragged you through hell — a passing remark from a drunken guard. That’s all you needed to know to find them again. The surge of calm, then of power, that you felt through your veins scared you a little. What was the extent of your Vision’s abilities? Best not to find out in the middle of your bedroom. 

    Reluctantly, you put the Vision back into the drawer, watching it glow proudly against the dark. You shut the drawer tight. shutting it tight. 

    You hadn’t forgotten. You’d never forget, for as long as you lived, the faces of every man who banged on the bars of your cell just to watch you jump. You hadn’t been brave or strong enough to fight back, then. But you would be. You would be. And the second you were, you’d go back and kill them all, every single one. Raze it all to the ground. 

    If Zhongli got in your way, you told yourself, you would not hesitate.

[kisskissbanggang]

Prowl pt. 5

[1Hr. Read/17.4K Words – Human!Jisung x Female Reader, Werewolf!Bang Chan x Female Reader – Monsters!AU, Mostly Plot, NSFW/Smut – Vampires & Werewolves, Mysteries, Suspense, Love Triangles, Jealousy, Developing Feelings, Questionable Coping, Feeding, Blood, Violence, Driven by Instinct, Confessions, Death, Wall Sex, Car Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Public Sex]

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. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : 🌕 ⭒ 🌗 ⭒ 🌑 : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“My little fox,” Chan grinned, “I thought I smelled trouble.”

Your blood ran cold despite the meager clothing you were wearing on the landing, and apparently the others sensed yours and Jisung’s sudden alert at the ghost currently haunting the doorway. However, when you looked behind you, Jisung was nowhere to be seen. There was no time for waiting, though; you stalked down the stairs and tried to shove Chan and Felix back out the door. 

“I do not know what the fuck you think you’re doing here,” you hissed, “but it would be in your best interest to get the hell out.”

“It would be in your best interest if we stayed,” Chan shook his head defiantly, “even if you did try to kill me.”

He had the audacity to scoff out a harsh laugh as you grabbed for Lia’s shotgun by the door, but this was quickly pulled right out of your hands. You wheeled around to see Lia holding the gun down by her side. 

“Sweetheart,” Lia interjected, her words injected with saccharine propriety. She would’ve tried to shake hands with death before going anywhere, you were sure of it. Judy and Yuna were holding hands where they hid behind the shorter woman, standing tall even as her voice wavered. “Who is this?” 

“Remember how I’ve been in some trouble lately?” You glowered. That was all that needed to be said, apparently. Lia was instantly on your side, shooting a glare in Chan’s direction as she raised the head of the gun a couple inches but kept her finger off the trigger. 

“I agree, then,” she announced, “I think you’d do well to leave now.”

“Julia, I need to explain something,” Chan tried, hands up in innocence, “I promise I’m not here with any ill-intent against you.”

Lia backed up a step, her eyes darting back to meet yours as you both silently wondered where he learned her name. Before you could follow this line of questioning, though, Jisung made his presence known as he marched down the stairs. Felix’s startled gasp surprised you, and you turned to see what he was reacting to. Your stomach lurched again, threatening to repeat its betrayal from earlier. Jisung held his own gun aloft, the ornate pearl handle clutched in his hand with the barrel pointed squarely at Chan. “We made ourselves pretty fucking clear,” Jisung spat, “and you’ve done more than enough damage already. Get the hell out.”

“I’ve done more than enough damage?” Chan sneered as he snatched Jisung’s wrist, effortlessly twisting it until Jisung let go of the revolver with a hissed curse. Chan handed it to Felix to free up his hand. Thinking quickly, you lunged forward, shoving the younger man back and grabbing the gun yourself out of Felix’s presented palm before stepping back next to Lia. 

Chan raised his hands again, but not without reaching into his jacket pocket first. You kept the gun aimed at the floor, finger off the trigger as you eyed him warily. He withdrew the other journal, apparently having found it in the boiler room after all the fuss when you left him to bleed. “I’m in deep shit with the department,” he explained to you, but he still cautiously eyed all the occupants in the room, “I’ve been extending this investigation so long that I’ve lost almost everyone. All my contacts are dropping off the map, all my resources are getting cut off, all of this to try and freeze me out and make me close the case. So this,” he gestured with the journal, “was a blessing. I was able to cross-reference every name and place in here with Shepherd’s record, your record, and even his.” Chan stared daggers at Jisung, who quickly stepped behind you now that he was defenseless again, before Chan looked to Lia now. “You’ve only gone by your real name again in the past ten years, haven’t you? You attended the university as your own granddaughter.”

Lia cautiously eyed Chan before she looked back to you. You were just as stuck. Lia sighed. “What are you asking for exactly?”

“I’ve been with the latest pack trying to get Shepherd’s help. They’ve done everything he’s asked, which means they’ve left quite a bit of damage behind them that hasn’t been accounted for. I want to get to them before they try to finish what they started. I’m here because if they’re as smart as I’m afraid they are, they shouldn’t be far behind me.”

“Is Lia even mentioned in the other journal at all?” You countered. 

“The journals are mixed,” Jisung sighed behind you, “literally. When Shepherd completed both volumes, it looked like he unbound the two and mixed the sections into two new bindings.”

“Fine,” Lia decided. All of you stopped to look at her. “If it’ll help stop this once and for all, you can stay. We’ll put you in the guest room by the study… But stay away from my girls.”

“Had no intention of getting close,” Chan reassured her before he tugged at the hood of Felix’s jacket, “and thank you.” Felix gave Judy another grateful smile before Chan pulled him outside. 

You wheeled on the poor girl as the front door clicked shut. She cowered by Lia’s arm. “Why did you let them in?!”

“I didn’t know—” she squeaked. 

“You didn’t know?! They reek of wolves and—”

“Sweetheart,” Lia scolded you with a deep frown as she stepped in front of Judy. She gently set the shotgun back down by the door. “It’s raining outside. You can hardly smell anything out there. I’ve protected Judy and her sister as long as they’ve been here, so they’ve still never even had to meet a wolf before. They wouldn’t know what one smells like.”

“I’m sorry,” Judy meekly apologized from behind Lia’s shoulder. You heaved out a sigh. 

“It’s alright,” you lamented, “you didn’t know. I’m sorry, too.”

“We’re all sorry,” Lia placated, “now let’s deal with this. Take that—” she said as she pointed to the gun still in your hand, “and put it the hell away. Jisung, I hope I never have to see it again.”

“Yes, Lia,” Jisung weakly agreed. He grabbed your sleeve and pulled you upstairs before ducking into his room to grab his things. You helped gather up his belongings, bundling up the clothes and books he’d left out before trotting back down the hall to your own room. Lia could be heard directing Chan and Felix to their room as you shut your door behind you. Jisung jumped as you finally turned on him. 

“A fucking gun, Jisung?!” You instantly started. 

“I know, I know,” Jisung moaned, “it was reckless and stupid. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Where did you even get this?!”

“I think it was Shepherd’s,” Jisung said quietly, “I found it the night he was killed before the cops came. I have no clue why I took it. It made me feel safe to have it.”

“Do not let me ever see you with this thing again unless you suddenly learn how to use it,” you berated him. You took the gun sitting heavy in your hands and opened the drawer of the bedside table, before setting it inside and slamming it shut. Your hand paused on top of the hardwood surface as you got your thoughts back in order. “How are you feeling?”

“Freaking out a little,” Jisung admitted. “I know it’s stupid.”

“That’s not stupid,” you sighed. You turned to face Jisung, stepping into his space. “Is it him and me?”

Jisung nodded thoroughly.

“I was all yours last night and I’m all yours tonight,” you reminded Jisung before you kissed his cheek in hopes of moving on, before you heard Lia giving Chan a cursory tour of the house outside in the hall. Jisung visibly prickled at the sound. 

“I loved you last night and I love you tonight,” Jisung finally returned with a sigh. “Just… promise me. Promise me you won’t talk to that bastard. We don’t talk to him, and we stay the hell away from him.”

“Had no intention of doing otherwise,” you nodded, brushing your thumb along Jisung’s cheek as you cupped his face. He pulled you close, and your gut finally calmed down enough to feel safe for a moment. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : 🌗 ⭒ 🌑 ⭒ 🌓 : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

That first night and the next were utterly disconcerting, having apparently been plucked straight from your own personal purgatory. You could only imagine how Lia and the girls felt. They had been living this quiet and secluded life, only having to worry about the occasional boyfriend or blood donor, and now you’d paraded in an entire heap of trouble. Maybe Chan had a point, an idea you fiercely despised. The whole giant house suddenly felt cramped. Your stomach was in more knots than that first night, and each time you woke up you had to sneak away to the en suite to empty your guts. Nothing felt better. 

Not to mention Jisung was a mess. As Chan seemed to finally get back up to speed, walking and working just fine, Jisung was a nervous wreck. He was finally starting to look more put together, his black eye finally faded and a mostly normal glow returning to his skin in the time since Chan worked him over a couple weeks prior. His busted knuckles had faded to simple callouses, and the stitches in his brow weren’t going to scar so badly once you got him to stop picking at them. But that wasn’t the problem. Jisung was hardly leaving your side. The moment you’d found him after waking up, guzzling more coffee than usual in Lia’s kitchen, he would follow you from room to room to room, or join you while you tried to read or get your mind off things. It was night three that you needed to do something about it. 

“Jisung,” you finally started, having led him all the way from your room to the laundry room to grab your dry clothes, and back.

“What?”

“You can not keep following me.”

“I’m not following you,” Jisung forced out with a fake laugh. 

“Jay, please,” you pleaded, dropping the laundry basket onto the bed and cupping Jisung’s face. “Work with me here. You have to tell me what’s wrong. No secrets.”

“It’s nothing!” Jisung tittered, trying to keep it light as he leaned his soft cheek into your palm. “It’s nothing, I’m just hanging out with you! What else would I be doing?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned, “what about the car? You said it needed work, something about the — what was it — the, er—”

“Timing belt?” He flatly answered. 

“Yes!” You replied enthusiastically. “You could be working on the car, or hiking, or—”

“I understand that,” Jisung sighed tiredly, “it’s just, you know—”

“Just what, Jay?”

“Ugh,” Jisung groaned sharply, “it’s you fucking him! I can’t believe I’m admitting it. It was one thing when he was dead and all I could do was get over it but—”

Jisung paused as Chan could be heard berating Felix in the hallway as they walked past. “—I don’t really care, Felix. I’m not doing this to hurt you, I’m telling you because I care and—” Where were they walking come from? They were going towards their room, not coming from it. You looked back to Jisung. He was fuming. 

“If I have to think of that idiot’s hands on you one more time I think I’ll try killing him again myself,” Jisung muttered before he turned away from you, hands roughly shoved in his pockets. You quickly stepped forward as the two men could still be heard quietly arguing down the hall. Trouble had apparently been cropping up everywhere once Chan was back to his old self again. 

“Jisung? Jay? What did I tell you,” you attempted to reason with him as you grabbed his hand. 

“I know, you’re all mine,” he sighed, “but having him be here is god awful and—”

“And nothing, Jisung,” you soothed him. “You’re not going to magically lose me if I’m not in your sight every waking minute. We’re getting past it together. It was the hunger, even though I know that barely matters. I’m all yours.”

Jisung finally softened for a moment, his hand gratefully squeezing yours — that is, until the two wolves could be heard coming back down the hallway. Felix was apparently coming in hot to get his word in. “—don’t understand, Chan. You’re not my dad, you’re not really my brother, and it sounds like the only wrong thing that fucking girl in that fucking room ever did was try to kill you, and I think I’m starting to understand why. Otherwise, all I know about her and her kind is apparently she’s the most perfect fuck you’ve ever had in your life—”

The commotion finally died down when the door to Chan and Felix’s room slammed shut down the hall. Jisung’s face was cryptic as you searched him. “Jisung, I—”

You were cut off into a muffled gasp as Jisung yanked on your hand in his, pulling you into him hard enough that he fell back against the dresser as he desperately kissed you.

“Jisung, talk to me—” you urged him.

“I will, I promise,” Jisung groaned into your mouth as he clutched onto your hips, “I just need you right now, okay?”

He backed up, just a breath away, and his gaze was clouded with whatever maelstrom was taking place inside of him. The mere thought of Jisung being so conflicted over this made your heart crumple in on itself, something you knew you were only coddling as you let him kiss you again. And, really, it was so easy once you realized how much you needed Jisung, too. A shadow lurked in you that you thought was just hunger, whispering to you with that same low voice as before when you had mauled Chan, but what was even louder was the longing that suddenly ripped through you. All you could do was give in to both, kissing Jisung hard in return as he pushed your leggings down and off and grappled you into his arms. 

You couldn’t hear Chan and Felix arguing down the hall anymore, but you probably couldn’t anyway between your shared gasps and sighs while Jisung pinned you up against the wall by your bedroom door, fumbling with his zipper before he could sink into you. He keened at the squeeze of your walls around him with what almost sounded like a sigh of relief, his hands clutching your thigh wrapped around him as you gasped in pleasure against him and let the extending tips of your canines graze his throat. Jisung moaned deep while his hands roamed over you, even leaning his head over to let you gently nip into him while he fucked you into the wall. Just that simple action of you piercing him made him stiffen up, his whole body seemingly holding back from tearing into you once you moaned at the taste of him. As much as you craved the sensation, it was easy to forget how much this apparently felt heavenly to Jisung. Your head swam, a cacophony of wanting Jisung, and wanting to feed on Jisung, and wanting to talk to Jisung all yelling over each other until the first wash of blood ran down your throat. Everything in you turned to static. Jisung sighed out an airy whine of pure satisfaction the moment you came up for air, his hand gently cupping your face again.

“I wish I could tell you just how beautiful you are,” Jisung murmured, his voice soft even as he thrust hard into you, “especially like this. I swear your eyes get darker when you feed. It’s—”

The door down the hall swung back open as Chan apparently followed Felix into the hallway. This was actually torture. “—and that’s fine, Chan, whatever, I’m going to get some fucking fresh air, but if you’d like I could remind you of how I fucking held you while you were trying not to die and all you could do was joke that at least she finished you off before she finished you off—”

“Felix, I—” Chan didn’t finish his thought, apparently deciding that he needed to give Felix his space, but not without punching the bannister out of frustration first. However, his bedroom door didn’t close again, and you didn’t hear him go down the stairs. Jisung apparently couldn’t be bothered to wonder the same, or maybe it was in spite of that which led him to thrust more roughly into you, that unresolved jealousy clearly eating through him as you whined and whimpered once you resumed feeding on him again. 

The way Jisung fit inside you — or even fit inside your life — seemed almost too well meshed when his breaths began to grow ragged the second you felt your peak coming. You finally felt fed, and Jisung looked so beautiful but so conflicted as you finally winced and sighed through your easy orgasm. Jisung held you steady, still pinning you to the wall and not letting up until he got his. 

“Say it again,” he sweetly begged while he dragged his lips along your jaw and throat. You didn’t think twice about it. 

“I’m all yours,” you gasped, and held tight onto him as he clutched tighter onto you in return. Jisung sloppily kissed you again before he spilled into you, his hushed groans almost sounding like laments. Chan could finally be heard stalking down the stairs. 

Jisung was still a mess, obviously, but the impromptu sex seemed to take the edge off, at least physically. You finally got him to give you a little space. The next night you awoke and didn’t find him drinking his fourth cup of coffee in the kitchen. He wasn’t reading in the study or flipping through channels in the den. When you poked your head outside, you could see light coming from the garage. It was nice, sneaking outside and peeking around the corner, catching Jisung rummaging around under the hood of his car, the sleeves of his worn flannel rolled up to his elbows while he listened to the radio. 

Even the next night, again, you found Jisung right back in the garage. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him at all the previous night, you’d had a fun time playing board games for the first time in years with Lia’s girls, but you wondered if perhaps you overcorrected and now Jisung wouldn’t feel the desire to come see you when you woke up anymore. You silently peered into the garage, catching sight of him as he wiped some sweat off his brow and was careful to avoid his healing stitches with the grease on his arm. Jisung looked almost like he was concentrating, and on more than just the car. You couldn’t blame him. With how relaxed Jisung had seemed just the previous week, back when things were starting to look a little brighter, you could imagine he’d finally felt like this whole nightmare was starting to slow down to a manageable pace. 

You decided to let Jisung have his space for a little bit, at least if he was seeking it out himself now. Out of sheer curiosity, you decided to check out the edge of the lake while the moon was still high up, the bright crescent more than likely lighting up the water in a gorgeous way. You had a sinking feeling that quiet nights like this should be counted as a blessing. Twigs snapped underfoot, and you carefully walked along the path only somewhat lit by dim lanterns, but froze when you noticed someone out by the water’s edge, lounging in one of the worn lawn chairs by the fire pit. 

Chan. 

He was seemingly at ease, or at least attempting to be. Apparently Lia had some beer stowed away in the house that you hadn’t bothered to find yet, but Chan had, unless he had his own secret stash. However he’d conjured the bottle in his hand, he nursed the brew as he brooded. You were brought back to that first night, Chan laughing and hanging out with the pack at the bar. He looked so different in such a short amount of time. 

Since he’d arrived, Chan had been able to clean up considerably, despite the showing roots in his ashy blonde hair. His style seemed to relax since he no longer needed to blend in with the pack or camp out for extended periods of time to keep out of trouble. Even with only a shave and a shower, he was just as handsome as that boy at the bar ages ago. Who could’ve guessed that he nearly died only recently? For that matter, who knew what he had needed to do to become good as new? You shivered at the thought. 

It was sort of calming, watching Chan seemingly not sense that you were observing him as he sat by the lake. You didn’t need to imagine that this wasn’t terribly different from the rest of the day. When you’d asked Jisung in passing, he said the daylight was mostly spent ardently avoiding each other at all costs, minimizing shared space as much as possible and not exchanging any words if necessary, though Felix did seem approachable and friendly in contrast. This was almost humorous, considering Chan didn’t seem to care one bit about you two hanging out with each other now, or even that you existed. No matter how much Jisung was or wasn’t attached to your hip, he barely glanced in your direction. On the rare occasion you did run into Chan in the house, perhaps catching him around a corner, he almost looked mortified to see you. That one puzzled you. 

At most, Jisung caught Chan keeping to himself and finally studying his investigation materials or even tinkering around with the van they’d nabbed. This was understandable, you supposed, even on Chan’s part. You could still hear him barking vitriol about Jisung — the worm, according to him — back in the boiler room. You could still hear how desperately he’d insisted you belonged to each other. He could feel it in his skin, he’d said. He’d sounded possessed, something you were scared to consider if you empathized with. 

And you’d tried to kill him. Maybe he was just as scared and confused as you were. According to Jisung, Felix was even harder to keep track of, that first squabble apparently setting a standard between the two wolves. So, perhaps, now on top of everything else already sitting on his broad shoulders, now Chan was stuck in a house full of people who hated him.

You left Chan to quietly consider the lake by himself before you headed back up to the house, maybe see what the girls were up to or if Jisung was done working on the car for the night. The back door just off the kitchen softly clicked shut behind you when you suddenly heard the harsh whispers of the girls in the entryway. You hung back in the kitchen, listening to the disembodied voices talk. 

“Chae—Judy, you can’t be this selfish over—” Joanne?

“Selfish?!”

“Think rationally, Jude.” Lucy? “Lia almost never has problems like this but this time she does. Think about what she said.” 

“Oh my god, you both are being ridiculous, just like her. Neither of you understand.”

“Neither do you, Judy. Lia said this is dangerous—”

“What about your sister? Think of Yuna—”

“Do not talk about Yuna like that. We’ve looked out for each other ever since she could walk. I would never do anything to put her in danger.”

“We know, Judy, but what if this is putting her in danger and you just don’t know it yet?”

“Stop it, both of you! I love you both, but I don’t have patience for this, from either of you. I’ll be glad to hear whatever Lia has to say if she actually tells me why I should be so concerned.”

Judy and Lucy were apparently left alone as Judy stormed off upstairs, and you peeked around the corner to see if the coast was clear. You could’ve easily ducked in and looked like you hadn’t been eavesdropping, but you shied away as you saw Jisung hopping down the stairs, still toweling his hair off from a shower. You must’ve been watching Chan at the lake longer than you’d thought if he had time to finish his work and get cleaned up. 

“Joanne? Lucy?” Jisung asked curiously as he reached the foyer. The girls turned to face him. You could see them attempt to relax from down the corridor. “Are you two alright? Judy looked… pissed.”

“It’s fine, she’s fine,” Lucy sighed with a nod, her arms folded as if to give herself a reassuring hug.

“We’re fine,” Joanne insisted. “I appreciate you checking on us though.”

“No, come on,” Jisung tutted, “don’t lie. Come talk to me.” He nudged Joanne’s shoulder with his own as he walked with the two girls down the hall towards you. You quickly tensed up and rushed to make it look as if you just happened to already be in the kitchen and weren’t actually listening in. The three appeared glad to see you, and you forced yourself to let your mind relax and enjoy this. You sat in the kitchen, sipping on coffee and catching Jisung up on old stories between you and Lia, even as she herself came down herself to join you with Yuna in tow. It was wonderful, getting to take a moment and enjoy the company of these people you cared for. You just wished it didn’t feel like a blessing. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : 🌑 ⭒ 🌓 ⭒ 🌕 : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Jisung was still a mess, only a little less on edge about it. Regularly now, he was dragging you into the nearest secluded area once or sometimes even twice a night to feverishly kiss you or — when it was really bad — fuck you until you both were gasping for air. Last night it was after Chan walked in on you both reading on the couch in the study when he was looking for a book, and now you had the shadow of a sizable love bite next to the scar of your real bite to show for it. Jisung said Chan had given you a look, but you didn’t recall ever seeing such a thing. Tonight, where he had pulled you into the den and told you yet again that he needed you, was because of something he hadn’t explained yet. 

It was almost as if Jisung was burying something in you, almost staking his claim if you insisted you were his. Admittedly, it was relieving and good, or else you hopefully wouldn’t let Jisung keep getting away with doing this instead of talking to you. The way Jisung loved you was like nothing you ever got to experience before, and keeping it and maintaining it was sort of becoming precious to you, even though you still weren’t sure if you entirely felt the same. It wasn’t that you felt you didn’t love Jisung — it’s just that you were simply and utterly terrified of that possibility. You already pulled him in this far. Regardless, you occasionally tried to cajole Jisung into opening up more. 

Even now, you slowed your hips as you rode him on one of Lia’s plush easy chairs. “Jay, we can’t keep not talking about this,” you lightly chided, partly from trying not to tire out too quickly, partly from wanting to remain gentle with him.

“What’s to talk about?” He breathlessly asked, now thrusting against his grip on your hips to make up for your dropped pace. “I’m still jealous, he’s still here, and that’s still making it difficult to work it out.”

“Jisung,” you said, more firmly now, and his glazed eyes sparkled a bit when he looked up into yours as you stilled on his lap. “Come on. You came in from outside and were so fired up that you’re still covered in grime.”

It was true. Jisung was in such a hurry that there were now smudges of oily fingerprints on your thighs from the car. You would have to come back and surreptitiously clean the leather upholstery of the easy chair.

“Oh my god, fine,” Jisung groaned. “I’m warning you: it’s stupid.”

“Jay.”

“Alright, alright, jeez,” he laughed tepidly under his breath in a vain attempt to keep things light. Even still, the facade dropped right away as Jisung’s eyes were quickly downcast in embarrassment. “The idiot snuck up on me in the garage.”

“He what?” Your blood boiled. Jisung’s eyes lit up in alarm.

“No! Not like that. He didn’t really sneak up on me—I mean, he did, but he didn’t do it on purpose, and—”

“Oh my god—” a deeper voice gasped into a laugh in the doorway. You both froze now with Jisung’s fingers digging into your waist. Mortified, you peeked over the back of the chair to see Felix let out a surprised guffaw and turn to someone beside him, out of view behind the doorway. It was interesting to hear him be so light, considering you’d barely spoken five words to each other since he arrived. “Okay, so that’s out of the question—” You couldn’t hear much else as Felix and whoever it was promptly scampered back down the hallway.

Jisung let out an amused sigh once you were alone again. “Well, that sucked.”

“Jisung,” you prodded, your patience starting to run thin as you got him back on track. He looked somewhat hurt that you didn’t forget in those 10 seconds.

“I’m getting there,” he whined. “The mutt asked me to help him check out the cylinders in the van.”

“And?”

Jisung chewed on his lip. He looked almost nervous. “And… it was nice. He was nice. I sort of understood the appeal for two seconds. We had a beer, looked at the van… and he suddenly asked how you’re doing, and I made an awful excuse to get away. I couldn’t handle it all of a sudden.”

“Jay,” you sighed, maybe a touch too condescendingly, “is that everything? That almost sounds like a good time.” The excruciating embarrassment in Jisung’s eyes made you soften up a bit. He was clearly struggling with this. Maybe, you mused, he couldn’t get a grip on his instincts. Maybe he was getting a sense of his own monster for once. 

You smoothed your fingers back through his hair and kissed his temple as you resumed riding him again. It felt selfish to admit that it was gorgeous, the way Jisung was so attentive that even these desperate rendezvous never left you longing for your own climax, that he was so good to you that always got yours, and it was that sense of commitment that made you so beholden to him. Even now, as your core squeezed and climbed its peak, you were still just as lost in the moment as ever. 

“I loved you last night and I love you tonight,” Jisung murmured into your shoulder, his breath hitching beautifully and his eyebrows knitting together as he tried to feel out the climax he needed so badly.

“I was all yours last night and I’m all yours tonight,” you soothed. Jisung groaned and tensed at your reassurance, a phrase he seemed to lean on and lean into with each utterance, and soon he held you down against him as you came to a languid yet satisfying finish, your orgasm almost lazy and deep but still flooding heavily through your senses until Jisung followed right behind. 

As you caught your breath, Jisung actually looked more relaxed. This was not as satisfying as you would have liked. Jisung needed to keep trying to push past his neuroticisms, no matter how valid. He leaned softly into your hand as you stroked his hair and brushed your thumb against his cheek. 

“Hey,” you murmured softly to him. “If you think he was being decent, let him be decent. That’s the least we can do, right? Be decent while we’re stuck together?”

“I know,” he sighed. “He even offered to show me how to handle the gun I found—”

“Jisung,” you jokingly scolded him, “don’t you dare consider that for even a second.”

“I know, I know, I know,” he placated, but his smile seemed to relax.

“Do you feel a bit better now?”

Jisung’s mind had seemed to wander for a moment, but he nonetheless looked up at you gratefully when he nodded. 

When you awoke the next night, the first thing you did was check for Jisung in the garage. He wasn’t there. Thankfully, your stomach was feeling cooperative this evening, so you had been able to simply shrug on a jacket over your nightgown after you freshened up. Your fingers absently glided over the scar Rand had left you. It was a minor miracle to not have to deal with nightmares anymore, or else you suspected the pack leader would’ve been populating them. However, that still didn’t stop passing thoughts from invading. It was becoming routine — think about it, wish Jisung didn’t baby you about it with his well-intentioned caress of it each time he got you undressed, and funnel that into your need to destroy Rand if you ever saw him again. You didn’t need a gold star for dealing with it so well, you needed someone to help you sort out that monster. Right now, however, you needed to go find Jisung and see if he wanted to hang out. 

But, as you realized, he wasn’t in the garage. The radio was off, the tools he’d been using were stored away. You considered checking the study before you recalled Jisung saying he found a nice clearing in the woods to read in during the day when the weather was dry. The lanterns mostly lit the way, but the path ran out before you could recount Jisung’s directions as he’d described them to you. A flashlight bobbing in the distance caught your eye, hopefully leading you in the right direction. 

Only it wasn’t Jisung. 

You were careful to mind the moderate ground cover underfoot, cautious of vines and twigs your boots stepped over, but even then you hissed out a curse as you tripped into some brambles and snagged your exposed calf. A fern appeared to have concealed the pointy brush underneath. You considered cutting your little outing short when you finally were able to make out the conversation taking place. You untangled yourself and crept closer. 

“— I can’t believe you’re still going on about this. Tell me why it’s any of your goddamn business!”

“It’s my business because we’re here together, Felix,” Chan sighed. “If you get in trouble then I’ll get in trouble.”

“It’s always fucking trouble with you, isn’t it—”

“Don’t fucking start, Felix. I’m glad Judy is nice, I’m glad you’re in love with her, but this is not good for either of you.”

“Why isn’t it? You still won’t tell me! Whatever you read in that fucking journal was good enough to warn me about but not actually tell me anything.”

“I’m just trying to protect you—”

“There’s nothing to protect me from if you won’t tell me what it is! You don’t understand, Chan. I’ve never felt this way before in my life. I don’t just love her, I belong with her. I’m meant to be with her. I can feel it in my—”

“Skin, right?” Chan stared Felix down, who had stopped his frenzied pacing. “You can feel it in your skin, can’t you. It feels almost like you’ve been in the sun too long and sometimes all you can smell is her, even if she’s not around.”

“If you get it then tell me what I need to be so goddamned scared about.”

Chan was markedly silent. In the meager moonlight and his flashlight bouncing off the trees, you could see Chan shift his weight from foot to foot, his hands going from his hips to folded across his chest. You were so engrossed in their squabble you could almost ignore the trickle of blood falling down into your boot from where the damned brambles had gotten you. 

“That’s what I thought,” Felix scoffed. You ducked back, mindful of the underbrush while turning to watch Felix storm past you and back up to the house. As you turned back to find Chan, though, there was no flashlight beam. There was only darkness. 

You paused in the disquieting night and stared at the spot Chan was just occupying before your eyes quickly surveyed the rest of the clearing, trying hard to not panic and figure out what must have happened in the time between you watching and listening to the younger wolf leave and losing sight of Chan. He wasn’t gone; his scent was still here, his bouquet of mahogany and beach fire haunting you in real time. His scent in the cool night air distracted you from the prickling sting on your leg. Thinking cautiously, you turned to press your back against the tree you had been hiding behind and eliminate a blind spot. 

Only to be faced with Chan. It was surreal, almost occurring as if time was slowing down just for him, just so he could stand himself before you and confront you. This was the closest you’d been to him since you tore him open in the boiler room. Standing together like this, your chest squeezed as you suddenly remembered that first night, both of you breathless and excited as Chan kissed you behind the bar. 

“Your heart’s beating out of control,” Chan observed, his hushed voice joining the gentle breeze in the exposing night air. His tone was gentle, husky, but difficult to figure out. He wasn’t happy to see you, that much was sure. And he was right. You’d backed up, apparently trying so hard to pass through the tree behind you that you could feel the bark press into your shoulders through your jacket. Sure enough, you could feel your heart beating like mad and rattling your breath. 

“Are you scared?”

You defiantly kept your mouth shut. The last thing you wanted to do was give away more than you already had. Instead, you tried to edge past Chan, until he effortlessly pushed the head of his flashlight into your sternum — hardly pinning you to the tree, but you were stuck nonetheless. Even in the dark, you could see his eyes. For the first time with Chan, you felt like prey. You thought of Jisung — his kind eyes, his golden skin soft as deer velvet. All you wanted in that moment was to cling to him and feel safe again. Then again, with Chan being here, by just existing in your space — you felt that incredible gravitation towards him that drove you into Jisung’s path in the first place. Somewhere in you, that small voice emanated an anxious hum. 

“You have no reason to be scared right now,” Chan reassured you with stinging saccharine in his continued murmur, “considering how things went between us last time.” You were frozen by the sensation of his hand on yours and you wished so desperately that you could pull away when his fingers wrapped around your wrist, but you were frozen in place— by fear, by desire, by something. The cold head of the flashlight left your chest as Chan reached up and pulled open the first few buttons of his flannel shirt. Wisps of moonlight streaked across Chan’s pale chest as he gently tugged up on your hand and led you to touch him. His calloused fingertips were soft on your palm as he made you reach out and press your hand to his chest. Your breath had stilled in your tight lungs. Just under his cold skin in the night air he was radiating warmth. A coarse breath became lodged in your throat as your fingertips brushed the gnarled skin comprising the scar you’d left him. 

“See? We match now.”

“Why are you doing this?” You were whispering to each other like that night under the table in the library and the only thing you wanted in the world was to will your feet to move and leave. Chan’s thumb almost affectionately brushed over your hand. 

“I’m just reassuring you that you have no reason to be afraid right now,” he replied. “You’re apparently perfectly capable of killing me. I don’t think I would’ve made it if you weren’t so courteous to leave me for Felix to find.”

“Believe me, I wasn’t trying,” you retorted. “And I’m not afraid of you.”

“Good. I’m grateful nonetheless,” Chan shrugged as he let you wrench your hand away. “Besides, the only reason you would have to be afraid right now would be if you knew how amazing you smell. You really should be more mindful of your surroundings; you never know what’s hiding. I watched you from the trees for three days back at your aunt’s house without you knowing. It was just a scratch this time, sure, but who knows about next time. You don’t know how lucky you are.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Chan,” you said as you attempted to stand your ground. “Just let me go back to the house.”

“If you’re lurking in the woods looking for secrets, I’m letting you in on one now,” Chan murmured, letting himself fall closer into you so he could breathe you in. It felt so incredible but so unnerving to have him this close. “You don’t know how lucky you are. You were alone with the wolf just a few weeks ago and still came out on top.”

“You’re not implying that you would’ve—”

“Eaten you? Why not? The wolf sure as hell wanted to— which is sick, considering how much it likes you. Just staring at you bleeding under me almost like you are right now, with that moon haunting me outside the motel… every little nag of the wolf telling me how easy it would’ve been to tear into you while I still had to reconcile with Rand trying to claim you, praying none of his blood got in that bite to accidentally complete the claim.”

Chan’s wolf sounded too much like the little whisper in the back of your mind for your comfort. In fact, you were never aware that the wolf was apparently its own mind. You knew the actual wolf form was extremely painful to assume and was really only used in dire situations. It was reasonably handled with medication or meditation, but to think that the wolf still made its own decisions and the human was just a passenger along for the ride… you didn’t like it.

Then again, Chan was the only wolf you knew intimately. Who knew what else would be news to you. Your fingertips pressed hard into the rough wood of the tree trunk to try and keep from trembling. Chan looked breathtaking like this, his eyes darkening as the predator tried to take hold inside him. “Why not give in, then, if it’s so easy,” you challenged him. 

“Because you gave in first,” he softly replied, the lilt in his dark tone hypnotic. “You gave into your hunger before I could give in to mine. You were lucky to make it out at the last full moon. I’d be more careful of the one coming up. You don’t deserve your luck running out.”

You felt sick. Despite the ravenous way his eyes bore into you, his warning sounded genuine, and as Chan clearly struggled with every demon on his back, including his wolf, you grappled with yours. You thought of Jisung, sleeping peacefully beside you as he couldn’t stay awake anymore at the end of his night. You thought of Chan, and the way he tried so hard to keep Rand away from you that night in the store, the way he’d truly seemed afraid of you when you gave into your own monster. 

As you noticed Chan heavily considering his proximity to you, his weighted hesitance and his own bated breath exposing him apparently caught between pulling you close and running away, you finally saw it: Chan hated this. The way he nervously licked his lips, the worry knotted up in his brow, his jaw set stern — he loathed how good you smelled. Even as he leaned in to your timid trepidation, his lips tempting closer to yours, you could feel a desperate restraint in him. You held your breath as you felt his own on your skin. Nervous excitement played with your heartbeat and you let your eyes close. 

Chan paused, one moment away. “Please stop me.”

Your eyes snapped open at his quiet plea. You could do that. For both of you. 

Chan grunted and cursed when you pressed both your hands to his chest and shoved him off, but he let you run. You ran all the way back to the house, until you saw the light actually on in the garage. 

Jisung barely had a moment to smile hello as you threw yourself into his arms, let alone have any time to figure out what was going on with you when you feverishly kissed him. He tried to caress and pet you down off of him. “Hey, hey, baby…” Jisung soothed. He wiped his grease-stained hands on his jeans before he worriedly cupped your face to get a look at you. “What’s wrong?”

“I really need you right now,” you breathlessly pleaded, and you kissed him again where you stood by the open passenger side door. Jisung nodded gravely in your embrace, knowing damn well what that felt like. His fingers caressed your hair, down to your shoulders as he turned and pressed you against the car, ultimately reaching down to tilt the front seat forward so he could gently herd you inside to lay across the backseat. 

“How much—”

“Everything, Jay,” you desperately whined, “I need you so much right now.”

The torrid firefight of conflicting emotions taking place inside you was overwhelming to say the least, as Jisung nodded dutifully. He was ready for you in minutes and was already pulling at the hem of your nightgown under your jacket, his mindful fingertips lighting you up instantly. If you could be there for him at the drop of a hat, so could he, and you were grateful once he prodded up against you between your legs. When had you gotten so wet? You barely had time to wonder past your gasp as Jisung gently stretched you open around him. As your mind was awash, you grounded yourself, coming home to his scent of deer and buttercups. His impassioned groans in your ear brought you back to earth, back to this moment between only you and him. However, even then you couldn’t shake this feeling that you weren’t alone as Jisung fucked the worry out of you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was Chan. Either mentally or literally outside the garage, Chan was there and invading your moment. 

Apparently Jisung noticed you elsewhere underneath him. “Hey,” he softly called to you, wanting to bring you back, “I loved you last night and I love you tonight.”

“Jisung,” you gasped and whined, “I love you, too.”

Jisung slowed to a halt, hips stilled between your legs as you realized what you just said. His eyes bore deep into you, wondering if he heard you right. And when you thought about it, you knew he heard right. You loved Jisung.

Something about sharing that moment in the backseat of Jisung’s car seemed to make time slow and pull you two into sync with each other. The second he finally moved, he really was making love to you. Jisung kissed your face as he moved together with you, and that closeness felt thick, an invisible tether making you clutch tightly onto him. 

“Say it again,” Jisung breathed against you, and you could hear the precipice approaching from the stilted confidence in his voice. 

“I love you, Jisung—” you whimpered, his hushed intensity only adding to the peak he was pushing you towards, right up to when you toppled over the edge. Your legs squeezed around Jisung’s hips, your breathy cries reverberating in the quiet car in the silent garage as you came, and he wasn’t far behind. Jisung’s hips faltered against yours as he rolled into you once, twice more, and climaxed with an emphatic sigh, his voice husky and thick from working you over. 

You reached for him immediately, finding his lips in the dark as he did with you that first time in the bookstore, and glided your fingers back through his hair as he looked into your eyes; the dark brown rimming his enlarged pupils seemed to have a sparkle within them, like a set of stars only you had the privilege of knowing. His chest pushed into yours as you both caught your breath. You could feel the buttons of his jacket through the thin material of your nightgown. 

“I love you, too,” Jisung quietly panted, as if the walls outside would crumble if he proclaimed it too loudly. “I loved you last night, I love you tonight — and I’m going to love you tomorrow.”

The world felt cozier when you awoke the next night. After your tryst in Jisung’s car, you had spent the rest of the evening together, the most time you’d spent alone and relaxing so far. You dragged Jisung into a hot bath with you, where he found the already healed scratches from the bramble bush. He did ask what happened. You simply told him Chan had snuck up on you in the woods by accident and frightened you, and as much as you told him not to, Jisung was still hard-pressed to go talk to him. You could only relax once you calmed him down enough and pushed him into bed. 

Everything was fine, really. With Chan set on his path and you set on yours, you would hopefully never have to see him again after Rand and the journals were dealt with. You would never have to tell Jisung that the way Chan looked at you made you breathless, that being so close to him made you want to run, but it also equally made you want to grab onto him and never let go. 

After Jisung had finally drifted off to sleep that night, however, that familiar churn in your stomach returned, this time after suddenly being hit with the memory of Rand’s teeth in you. You couldn’t stay in the room and use your private bathroom, surely — you still hadn’t told Jisung about the puzzling occasional sickness. Instead, you slipped out from under his arm to throw on a robe and trot downstairs, just in time to use a bathroom down there until your stomach was satisfied. Admittedly, that soreness in your gut only exacerbated the hunger slowly forming over the past few days. 

You jumped as you returned upstairs, the first hints of daybreak starting to show outside and revealing Felix quietly slipping out of Judy’s bedroom. He froze as he caught you watching him at the top of the stairs. The hall had been silent as you regarded each other. 

“Hi,” Felix whispered awkwardly in greeting. He didn’t seem sure of how best to approach you.

“Hello.” You had to admit you felt the same if that were the case.

The younger wolf was bundled up in a cozy sweater, but when you neared to get closer to your room, you still noticed the telltale scars on Felix’s neck. Aside from freshly drawn blood and veal, he smelled sweetly of peaches, even daisies. His faint spray of freckles dotting his golden cheeks and dainty nose were incredibly becoming on him now that you could really take a second and see him up close. He had looked wary, ready to bolt. You remembered what Chan had said, about his family throwing him out after he turned, and your chest swelled. Whatever this was he was going through, it was clearly making him the happiest he’d been in a long time. 

“Are you being safe?” This felt like a neutral enough question, you’d hoped. Felix seemed to think so, a muted sigh falling from his chest once he had flashed a relieved smile and nodded. 

“Yeah. I was just hanging out because Judy says it helps her feel more safe.”

“Does she not usually?”

“Not lately,” Felix shrugged. “She said she’s been hearing noises in the garden and out in the trees, but I’ve tried looking, both during the day and night. Nothing out there, but if she feels better with me staying with her while she falls asleep, I can do that.”

“I’m sure she appreciates the gesture. That’s really thoughtful of you.” You weren’t even being facetious or playing nice; it was true. Whatever Felix seemed to feel for Judy, it was more than just lust. He’d given you a soft grin before he seemed to remember something. He rummaged through his pockets before he reached out, and offered you whatever it was he had found. Felix had placed a photo in your hand, and you tended back up. Beaming back at you was a remarkably cleaner Chan, in his uniform with his natural hair color and without the heavy circles presently rimming his dark eyes. That pang in your chest echoed deep. 

“I found it while helping Chan with his records,” Felix had explained. “It was in the bottom of his rucksack, in what he affectionately calls his Dead Box. Looked like his whole past life was in there. No known parents, no known siblings, just a juvenile record, a half empty pack of cigarettes, and this academy picture. He said the box is the first thing to go if things get bad. Thought you’d be curious to see.”

Your eyes pored over this exponentially happier Chan. He still had that shadow hanging over his smile, like there was still a lot behind him, but he seemed almost unaware that this much trouble was out in the world. “Felix,” you carefully wondered, “what’s he like with you?”

Felix’s look had been puzzling, like he had to remember you may have differing opinions or him. He decided on a simple shrug. “He’s the truest guy I’ve met. No lies, no secrets… except for now and the whole business with Judy. That’s why it hurts so much. But he saved me, and I’m thankful for him. He’s like a brother to me. And, for what it’s worth, I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. But I have to know... that night that you and he… did you mean to?”

A weighted silence staked down between you both. 

“What did he say?”

“He says you didn’t.”

“I’m glad,” you decided, “because I didn’t. Goodnight, Felix. Thank you.”

You had handed Felix back the photo. Holding onto it made your gut twist again for some reason.

Tonight, however, after you woke up to an empty bed, you knew the coziness wouldn’t last. You had to find Jisung and make sure he wasn’t caught up in another bout of wanting to do the right thing. You pulled on some jeans and a sweater before stepping into your boots and making your way downstairs, first hoping to catch Jisung in the kitchen. Instead, you were faced with an impromptu meeting of sorts. Felix sat on one end of the kitchen table, Judy sat at the other, and Joanne and Lucy were sitting between them. Yuna was mysteriously missing from this conversation. You had to wonder how her sister’s lovestruck rebellion was affecting the youngest. It seemed loneliness may have become a disease in the large house, jumping from person to person as these relationships were forming and changing. The girls instantly clammed up when you entered the room, but Felix gave you a reassuring smile. You quickly apologized and made your way out the back door.

The garage was dark again when you checked it. That wasn’t a great sign, but you weren’t going to let yourself become nervous yet. Instead, you headed out on the trail between the lanterns, being extra careful of the brambles and anything hiding at the fringes of the trail. Until you heard a gunshot. 

You could only hear the breeze rushing past your ears and your own panicked breathing as you tore through the woods, even though you knew plain and simply that Lia’s property bordered private as well as public property. A hunter could simply be out too late, or a homeowner could be dealing with pesky vermin, but the only thing you knew in this moment was that Jisung was nowhere to be found yet and you had heard a gunshot. You only slowed once you reached the edge of the clearing Jisung must’ve meant in the first place, but it was more like you skidded to a halt. 

Jisung was further down the tree line, aiming towards a target staked about 50 meters away… with Chan behind him. The two men paused for a moment to scan their surroundings as they heard the rustle of your feet in the brush, and you dropped down below a fern, breathing slow and steady through your pursed lips to calm your heart. What in the hell was Jisung doing out here? How could he go against your simple wish? There was no way Chan didn’t put him up to this, convince him that it would be better to be safe than sorry or some bullshit like that. 

You bristled as the two of them seemed to be getting along just fine. Chan corrected Jisung’s form and posture a little, guiding him to make sure his arm was stable but not stiff when he aimed. He fired again, and you could see the paper target tear as it was hit. You seethed. You were set on your path. Chan was set on his. You had suggested decency, but this was way too much. The boys shared a high five and celebrated by cracking open a beer, and you couldn’t take anymore. You turned and marched right back to the house. 

However, you were now too full of energy and had nowhere to take it. You considered waiting up for Jisung, but you knew that would only rile you up even more. It was as you were ascending the stairs that you noticed a light on in the study. You peered inside, and were grateful to find Lia, bundled up in her usual cozy layers, all cotton and wool. Perpetually freezing, as Lia appeared to be, you’d never seen her dressed down in less than a long-sleeved shirt. She seemed grateful to see you, too. You walked inside, and she gladly pulled up her feet where they’d been stretched across the couch.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Lia asked as she set her book down. She looked so tired. 

“How do you always know when I’m not?” You laughed solemnly. 

“I just know these things. Is it about Jisung? I like him with you, you know.”

“Right again. I guess I sometimes hate when things become certain.”

“Because that’s when things can become disappointing. You can't truly be upset unless you know where you stand.”

You smirked, your mind almost too foggy to really humor her. “How do you do that?”

“I just know how you are, sweetheart.”

“I mean, I know it’s…” You folded your arms, trying to consider what it really was that was bothering you, or even what all you could tell Lia in this moment. “It hurts when you know what’s best for someone, and they think they know more.”

“I know what you mean,” Lia laughed out loud. You could almost feel how worn down both of  you were. “It reminds me of a story.”

“Oh?” You did always love Lia’s stories. When she got into it, you could just rest beside her and listen to her talk for hours.

“Sure does,” she nodded, and she was already ready for you to nestle in closer to her on the couch as you watched the fire roar in the study. “It’s an easy one, since that’s all I have the energy for. But once, ages ago, I was madly in love with a young man—”

“You?” You giggled. Lia pushed at your shoulder.

“Indeed, me,” she lightheartedly rolled her eyes. “This was back when I was with Shepherd. He told me I had to be careful, over and over again, but I was in love and I knew how to take care of myself. I thought he was just being selfish, maybe overprotective.”

You sat up. This was the first Lia had ever mentioned his name to you. The revelation wasn’t lost on her either, as her quick inhale and sigh seemed to be giving her the energy to continue.

“Everything was glorious, it was perfect… until I woke up with a fever one night.”

“Lia…” You were chilled. As far as you knew, your immune system was impenetrable once you turned. It was one of the bigger benefits of the lifestyle, truth be told.

“I kept my secret for a whole week. I couldn’t tell my beau, I thought he might have given me whatever it was. I had to admit that I didn’t know everything. I had to talk to Shepherd. At the end of it all, he was the only one telling me he knew what was best, and he could be right.”

“And? What did he say?”

“Shepherd sat me down in the back of the bookstore, and he held my hand and shook his head. He never treated me like that before. He told me, ‘You silly young thing. If you’d told me sooner, you would know by now that there’s two things you can’t do anymore: you can’t get sick by any human means, and you can’t bear a child—’”

“We can’t?” 

Lia looked at you suddenly. You figured that must’ve been similar to Shepherd’s look, the look she was giving you now. “No, sweetheart,” she shook her head. “We can’t. Only purebreds can. Anything else will shrivel up and die in us, if it even has a chance to get that far.”

“Then what was making you sick?” You pushed before you could stop yourself. Lia grinned as you forced yourself to relax into the couch.

“First, Shepherd deduced that my beau was a Non-Viable Donor. This was before databases were a thing. Then — and this was the first time I hated him — he decided that I was only exacerbating it by knowing I was defying him.”

“What the hell—?”

“The weird thing was,” Lia continued, “that I couldn’t shake the feeling he was right, at least partly. Every time Shepherd told me to believe him, a small part of me wanted to. I was actively defying him, and you know your mind is more powerful than you like to admit.”

What Lia was referring to was still embarrassing to recall. When she had found you, you were running yourself ragged from dusk till dawn, stressing yourself sick over this new life you didn’t know how to navigate yet. So, sure, she may have had a point, but there was still something nagging at you.

“What if…” You carefully mulled over. “What if you didn’t feel like you were doing anything wrong by anyone?”

Lia took a second to meditate on this. “Then I would consider if I’m doing wrong by myself.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : 🌓 ⭒ 🌕 ⭒ 🌗 : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

You had sat up in bed that night after talking with Lia, half reading a book and half listening to Jisung when he casually told you that he was out working in the garage longer than he expected. First, you had been considering if you really were doing any wrong by yourself. Then, with Jisung’s casual lie, you wondered if maybe he was doing anything wrong. It felt like, perhaps, the right thing to do was hold back, to not jump the gun, to be more careful about all this than you had been. It did feel like you were looking at this with refreshed eyes.

Then again, maybe there was a new hair trigger presenting itself now that you knew Jisung and Chan were apparently hanging out and didn’t find it pertinent to tell you. You had found Jisung out in his makeshift firing range the next two nights, but even that didn’t steam you. Inside you, you knew there was nothing objectively wrong with the two men being on good terms, or even becoming friends. It was when Jisung walked out from the shower to find you reading in bed again, however, and he said something that made your hair stand on end. That changed things.

“You know,” he laughed as he toweled off his hair, “I’m starting to think I had Chan pegged wrong. Like I know I said I was beginning to see the appeal, but I actually get it now. He’s a nice guy and— hey, are you alright?”

You straightened up, having apparently silently outed yourself again before you nodded into your book. 

“Oh, come on now,” Jisung grinned, “no secrets, remember?” There it was. Jisung was thoroughly perplexed as you snapped your book shut,  got out of bed, and threw on a jacket over your long-sleeved shirt. “Baby? Where are you going?”

“I think I left something outside,” you grumbled. Jisung didn’t follow you out.

Instead, you marched out by yourself to his little improvised hideout. Chan was there, relaxing in the moonlight, the silver light growing fuller with each passing night, and he was pensively reclining in one of the lawn chairs he and Jisung had apparently dragged out there. He barely looked at you, but his cocked eyebrow hinted that he was aware of your presence.

“Yes?” He was fiddling with Shepherd’s gun before he set it down beside his chair.

“We need to talk.”

“We do?” Chan reclined his head back, preemptively washing his hands of this situation.

“We need to talk about why you two are keeping secrets from me.”

Chan did look at you now. “Who’s keeping secrets? You and I don’t talk.”

“Then Jisung, you asshole.”

He raised his hands defensively. “I told Jisung he shouldn’t be keeping things from you. He said it’ll be easier if you don’t know.”

“What’s not to know?! I told him to never touch that goddamn gun again, and you’re laughing and whooping it up like pals and you’re showing him how to use the fucking thing!”

“Look,” Chan shot back impatiently. He rose to his feet. Something about the lines of his face seemed more severe, but you thought perhaps it was the moonlight playing tricks on you. “Jisung came to me and asked if I snuck up on you in the woods. I told him it was an accident, just like you weren’t meaning to spy on me. Jisung apologized for coming in hot — because he did — and said he just wanted to protect you. He told me the least we could do if we’re stuck like this is be decent to each other, and I liked that, but he lamented the whole thing about not even being able to use the gun if it ever came to that, so I figured I could provide that for him, but only if he told you. He told me he told you. I’m sorry if he lied. He just wants to protect you, just like I do.”

You were so tense you felt like your knuckles would tear through your skin. Instead, you leaned forward, scooping Shepherd’s gun off the ground and checked the chamber. Chan backed up a few steps, hands up again before you aimed for the paper target, still stood up in the clearing and fired straight at it. You were out of practice, having only bought and trained with a gun for a short period after that wolf mugged you back in college. Nonetheless, the target rocked as you hit close enough to the center to make a point. Your grimace felt pronounced while you opened the chamber again and emptied the rounds into your hand. Chan was silent as you tossed the gun at his feet and stormed off.

With that settled, you were on a warpath the next night. You had no patience to get properly dressed again, this and your steadily growing hunger making you feel a bit on edge. You yanked on a jacket over your nightgown and huffed downstairs before you found Jisung working in the garage on — of all things — the van Chan and Felix had lifted. He was apparently taking a break, sitting on the workbench and peering through the manual when you stepped right up to him. Jisung seemed to have sensed your anger as he quickly set the manual down, and flinched as you tossed the bullets in his lap.

“Baby,” he flustered, “I can explain—”

“No excuses, Jay.”

Jisung sighed hard as he stared at the ammo in his lap. “No excuses,” he repeated. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“You’re quite the hypocrite,” you sneered, fighting through your hurt. “If you’re buddies now what’re you doing playing with silver bullets?”

“Hey,” Jisung defensively bit back. “I told him I wanted to be careful—”

“Careful?” You laughed meanly. 

“Yes,” he groaned harshly, “I wanted to be careful. I showed it to him, and it was still half full, just the way I found it by Shepherd: full of wood-tipped rounds. Chan emptied it and used what he had on hand that would work.”

“This sucks, Jisung,” you sighed, and fought hard to not get too heightened over this. “This sucks, because I love you and I expect us to trust each other.”

“I love you, too! I trust you, too!” Jisung was up on his feet now as well, the ammo pinging onto the concrete floor where it cascaded off his lap. “I just want to be able to protect us and the girls and—”

“Will everyone stop trying to protect me?!” You didn’t mean to raise your voice, but here it was. Jisung folded his arms, momentarily stunned, waiting to see if you got that out of your system.

But you didn’t have a chance. A piercing scream rang out from the top floor of the house.

You and Jisung exchanged a terrified look before he followed after you, bounding out of the garage and into the house to sprint up the stairs. That sight wasn’t any better, the empty hall foreboding as you reached the landing. Your heart crawled into your throat. A door down the hall slammed open. 

Judy’s room.

She spilled into the hallway, the girl only recognizable because it just happened to be her room. She was a wreck, streaked in blood, her clothes hanging off her in tatters, her hair a mess — and the monster leaping out of the room and landing on top of her. Felix. 

If Judy barely resembled herself, Felix was long gone, the roars and growls coming from deep within him only belonging to the wolf as he tried to get her to sit still long enough to tear into her again. “Felix, please—!” She screeched, her words cut off into a gurgle as he pinned her roughly back down onto the floor. You could see him more clearly now as he sensed onlookers — a whimper behind you let you know the girls had made their way to the landing now — and he was gone. Felix’s eyes had done dark, almost completely black as he breathed hard through his hunger.

Jisung was the first to finally move, barreling forward and tumbling Felix off the poor girl, and you were quick to join, attempting to wrench his clawing hands out of the way so either of you could get a hold on him. Felix seethed and snarled, his lips curled back over his bared teeth that had presented themselves in his hunger, fighting hard to get either of you off of him. If any of the noises he made were words, you couldn’t tell. With the two of you attempting to hold him back, the girls finally rushed forward to Judy’s aid. It took a moment for you to figure out just where the blood all over you came from, before it became readily apparent that it was Judy’s. Felix yanked his arm from Jisung’s grip, about to swipe you both off until a gunshot rang through the hallway.

Lia lowered the gun in her hand, but you could still see a pearl handle matching the gun you’d thrown at Chan the previous night. Felix reeled from the new wound burning in his arm, a shocked cry seeming to rouse him from the wolf’s reign. The hallway seemed to freeze as Lia approached the whimpering boy with cold fury before she simply shoved her finger into the newly pierced hole and dragged him back down the corridor. The dark shadow had drained from Felix’s eyes, who suddenly seemed to be dealing with what the wolf had done in his absence. Lia looked at you, Jisung, and the girls as she pulled him along.

“Get Chaeryoung out of the goddamn hallway,” she huskily ordered. “And someone needs to control the whelp while we wait.”

“Lia, I didn’t—” Felix choked out, already overcome by the realization of what he did. “I didn’t— oh fucking christ, I didn’t mean — what do I—”

“We wait, dear. Just like I said. We’re going to see if there’s any chance to help Chaeryoung while we wait for you to calm down enough to tell us what the hell you did.” Lia silenced him harshly, with a twist of her finger still thrust in his arm. She pushed him into the study as the girls and Jisung helped usher Judy along inside right behind them. You attempted to process everything that just happened in the past few minutes. All you could hear was Lia commanding that someone needs to control the whelp. And all you could think of was Chan.

The rage carried your feet faster than you had originally thought possible, twigs and leaves snapping beneath your boots as you sprinted out to the clearing. You weren’t sure what you would do when you found Chan, but you knew he was the cause of all of this.

What you found, upon reaching the clearing, was the ghost of a flashlight beam leading you out to the field beyond, closer to the edge of the property line. You slowed down to a careful walk as you approached. Chan sat on the grass in the bright moonlight, arms folded on his knees as he considered a deer heaving for breath with its hooves caught in a hunter’s trap. He was dressed comfortably in a flannel and sweats, like he just rolled out of bed, and you hated that like this, if this moment resided in a vacuum, you could find him just as handsome as that first night. But out here, you could only hear the breeze whisper reserved judgements through the foliage as the both of you waited, as silent as the deer.

“Tell me something,” he finally said, still not looking up at you. “Say you’re me. What would you do?”

“I didn’t realize there were choices,” you replied curtly.

“Sure there are,” he nodded. “You could do what’s right for you, or right for the deer.”

“What about you,” you retorted. How silly of you, to assume that both options were one in the same. “What would you do?”

“Honestly?” Chan shivered as he rocked up onto his feet. He placed a calming hand on the deer before he stepped on both latches on either side of the trap and pried it open. The deer got up on shaky legs, but quickly sprinted off. “I sort of really wanted to eat it.”

You scoffed. “Of course you would—”

“Can you fucking blame me?!” Chan snapped at you. You backed up a step. “I’m starving, but can I afford to leave and hunt as I’d like? What’re you even doing out here?!”

It wasn’t lost on you, that Chan was eyeing the blood smeared on you. “Ever the goddamn martyr, aren’t you,” you glowered. “You need to get back to the house,” you said with an attempt to be calm, “Felix—”

“Do not get me started on Felix,” Chan laughed harshly. “Don’t even mention him to me. I don’t care what he does now. I have stuck my neck out for him so many times, I have wasted so much patience on him, I’ve accepted and loved him and helped him—”

“Chan!” You barked. “Will you shut the hell up?! I’m trying to tell you Felix and Judy—”

“Oh, it finally happened, huh?!” Chan reeled, feigning surprise. “What, he just thought he could ignore me and nothing would happen?! I can’t say I fucking blame him, if she smells half as good as she smells on you.”

Chan stepped closer. You stepped back, but only to dig your heels in as you swiped your hand through Judy’s blood on your chest to slap him across the face, if it smelled so goddamned good. However, Chan caught your hand, his grip menacing as you tried to pull free. You wriggled in his hold. “You are such a goddamn monster,” you hissed.

“I asked if you can fucking blame me,” Chan shot back, his voice cold and thick, and you recognized that dark shadow clouding his piercing gaze. He torqued your wrist in his hand with surprising ease, clearly giving in to his temptation to smell the mauled girl’s blood on you before you tried to kick him off. Chan easily tipped you back, yanking you close and falling on top of you in the clearing by the opened trap. “Let’s try that one more time,” he grimly chuckled through a sharp shiver. “Can you blame me?”

“For what, you fucking animal,” you spat. The crazed look in Chan’s eye only seemed to be goaded on.

“For being a fucking animal,” he sneered as he held you down. “I’m alone, I’m starving enough to want to eat a fucking trapped deer, and I’ve been listening to you fuck that dipshit for the past month. Do you know what actual torture that is? If I have to think about that prick’s hands on you one more time I think I’ll actually go mad. Every goddamn time I stumble across him fucking you I want to tear my hair out, that’s why I’m never in the fucking house when you’re awake. And you know what makes it worse? I like Jisung.”

“Don’t you dare say his name right now,” you struggled out as you tried to knee Chan off of you. He seemed blatantly unaffected. You could see the hair on his neck stand up in alert against the light of the full moon. 

“Why? Aren’t you happy? You were right,” Chan miserably lamented. “I’m a monster and a stupid animal, enough to get jealous over a rotten bitch who tried to kill me just because she knows what it’s like to eat and not feel satisfied.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you gritted out, even though that was a stone faced lie. You knew exactly what it was like, eating and never feeling satiated until you gave into that nagging feeling so deep in your mind it felt like it sat in your throat. 

“Sure you do, don’t lie,” Chan spat, “I bet every time you feed on Jisung you—”

“I said do not talk about Jisung as if you have any right.”

“Why? What’s wrong, princess,” Chan taunted. “Do you feel guilty? Whatever happened to never talking to me? Never interacting with me? You’re not even trying to avoid me now. Whatever Felix did in that house wasn’t more important than whatever bullshit you keep insisting on dredging up. Admit it—”

“Admit what, you fucking mongrel?!

“What I said really bothered you, or else you wouldn’t be hanging around while I’m telling off Felix. You hate that I said you belong to me, but you keep fucking wondering why it doesn’t feel wrong.”

You thrashed uselessly underneath Chan, but he didn’t look like he was enjoying this. 

“You have this little voice in the back of your head that dictates your whole life now, and it’s not questioning why you’re mine, it’s just mad about it,” Chan insisted. The surety with which he said it rocked into your chest and made your heart slow. “I know, because I have it, too, and it’s not the goddamn wolf. I’m just as lost—”

“I hate you!” You cried out, your voice hoarse, and you finally got him to shut up. “I hate you, you son of a bitch, Chan. I fucking hate you. Pretend you’re me, alright? Let’s play your game, so pretend you’re me. And you meet someone who makes you excited to be alive for the first time since you died, which is entirely rare, but he drags you down an entire rabbit hole just because he asks you to trust him and doesn’t even have the decency to kill you when he’s done with you.”

Chan was frozen above you, shocked into silence from the enraged tears brimming at the corners of your eyes as you beat your fists against his chest. 

“And pretend you convince yourself that this person is actually great, he’s noble and saved you, and you just want to find and know this person because you’re a goddamn idiot and a slave to that voice in your head that decided now was a good time to show up and affect everything you do. And even when you find someone else in that process, someone who you love and loves you back, you can’t even enjoy it, because you know you’re a rotten bitch who can’t stop thinking about that night you asked me to trust you.”

The tears streaming down your face and into the grass stung in the cold night air, but not nearly as much as catching the heartbreak and devastation in Chan’s eyes as he laid against you in the grass. He stubbornly shook his head. “You don’t get to throw yourself at the feet of this situation,” he scolded. “I searched for you, I tried to protect you, I saved you from Rand, and you still tried to kill me! I’m stupid enough to love you and pine over you and you still tried to kill me—”

“You do not love me,” you snapped. It was gross, noticing how good Chan’s pulse smelled in his wrist. His darkening eyes seemed to glow in the night. 

“You don’t get to decide that!” He barked indignantly. “I don’t even want to! I wish I didn’t love you, I wish I didn’t want you, I wish I wasn’t fucking haunted by you when you’re right in front of me—”

“Then get rid of me, Chan!” You cried out, and Chan stared you down again in an attempt to not get distracted by your distress. “Get rid of me,” you repeated, trying to push him to do anything, and you finally willed yourself to move. You slapped him, hard, once across the face, and you could feel your nails scrape against his cheek. “Dig me up from the garden and throw me out to the damn tree line if I’m so much trouble.”

Chan was eerily still as he was shaken by your strike, the last of the color in his eyes was overtaken by darkness. The shine was still there, only outlined in black like tar as his weight felt more definitive against you. “I asked you to stop me last time,” he finally spoke through a full body shiver. 

“Fuck you,” you spat as you attempted to wriggle out from under him. “Stop yourself.”

“Come on,” he pleaded, “the wolf actually knows you. Stop me, please.”

“Fuck you and the wolf,” you snapped, and you attempted to smack him again, if only to surprise him into giving you enough space to kick him off. Instead, Chan leaned harder into you, your slap seeming to lure him in instead of push him away. His hand on your cheek pushed back behind your ear to grab into your hair, and you fought off a whimper before you turned towards his arm and reflexively bit into him. 

The blood rushing over your tongue was a mistake, first evidenced by your desperate moan from finally being fed, and Chan’s garbled curse that sounded more like a growl. His response was instant, his hand spread on your shoulder to slam you down onto the ground and dig his bared teeth into your shoulder. This was apparently the last push his wolf needed to stop being civil, but the worst part was how incredible it felt, only adding to the constellations swirling around your head with his blood on your tongue. Blood begat blood, and you were of two minds as you snaked your fingers into his hair to yank him off long enough for you to pull him back down and sink your teeth into his throat. Chan’s groan still sounded a bit like him, but his clawing hands were that of the wolf spurred on by the smell of your exposed blood making him starve, and his own exposed blood making him want to break you down until you were no longer a threat. You cried out as Chan pinned you to the ground, his snarling teeth finding unmarked skin on your neck to gnaw into as you tried to rip him off. His growls reverberated through your throat and your dizziness almost made you feel faint. Even as you were able to crane his head to the side and scrape your teeth into his shoulder, you were hyper aware enough in your hunger and adrenaline to recognize that Chan was noticeably hard against you between your legs, his hips even rutting against you under your thin nightgown as you both were giving in to your monsters in an attempt to survive each other. 

The thick haze marring your judgement was killing you, making it difficult to tell the difference between what he wanted, what you wanted, and what both your little voices wanted. All you knew was Chan’s hands and teeth on you made you burn, with pleasure and disgust, and the more you fed on him the more you rutted your hips down against him like you were possessed, just like that night in the library or back in the boiler room. And, it seemed, the wolf was keen on such attention, no matter how much Chan tried to shake his head and pull away from your clawing hands. He was always right back on top of you, sinking his teeth into you wherever he could fit around you doing the same. 

You couldn’t tell, in the midst of either of your frenzies, exactly how Chan’s bared member ended up thrust up against your heat that was thoroughly betraying you, but you knew neither of you did anything to stop it as he grinded past your scant layers of clothing. In fact, there was even a moment, a brief second of hesitation, and you could see him past the wolf as you could recognize in your haze that he was laying right in your entrance. Your nails dug into Chan’s biceps, the muscles there tensing under your clutches as you gasped and arched your back at the sensation of him falling into you. 

If Chan had wanted to eat you, he would’ve done it by now, but it became apparent as he fucked you, with his teeth gripping into your shoulder, that it wasn’t that simple. The wolf wanted you in a similar way Chan wanted you, minus any of the superfluous human feelings attached. Even then, he was in there, despite the beast driving him. Each time his lips dragged across your skin, every time his bruising grip softened into a gentle caress, any time you thought you heard him curse under his breath, it was Chan, and if you could sift out any of those extraneous sensations, the sick waves of ecstasy that were overwhelming you could almost be misconstrued for affection. 

Everything was simultaneously rushed and slowed between you, and you weren’t sure precisely when Chan’s opened shirt revealed that you had clawed him back open where you had originally mauled him, but it took for him dripping all over you for you to notice, the dark crimson pooling and sticking to the front of your nightgown hiked up around your hips. Incredibly, this transfusion of sorts was driving you mad, raking you through visceral bliss until you could see a peak on the horizon. By this point, a faint breeze could probably eviscerate you, let alone an orgasm from the wolf currently thrusting roughly against you. Still, you whimpered, you whined, worn down and exhausted from trying to stop wanting this like he was, and you grabbed at his chin, tilting him towards you as that precipice crept closer.

“Chan—” you weakly begged, and he was the one who looked back at you, and not the wolf. The darkness faded for a moment, the whites of his eyes becoming just a bit more opaque as he found you. “I fucking hate you, but at least tell me you want me.” It was a ridiculous request, you knew. You couldn’t tell if it was better or worse to hear it.

He ardently nodded as that darkness crept back over his vision. “I love you, you bitch, we belong to each other,” he grunted in a moment of clarity, “but fucking hell you make me wish I was dead.”

You loathed the fact that his affirmation fired you up in just the way you needed, and Chan groaned in surprise as you pulled him close for a brutal kiss, the wolf seemingly not used to such affections. He lingered until you pulled him back off and sank your teeth into him once more, that burst of blood on your tongue sending you just the stars you needed to be pushed over the edge once and for all. You cried out against him, your fingers tangled in his hair as you held him down against you and savored the way your core constricted and squeezed around him. The pleasure drained you, but it thankfully seemed that this was the goal that the wolf had been searching for all along. Chan’s slim fingers clawed into your hair to crane you back flat on the grass as he pinned you down and thrust hard against your sore hips, your numb thighs still cold in the night air before he hit his peak. His growled sigh seemed thick with satisfaction as you felt his warmth flood you, and his hips slowed their frenetic rock against you.

There was still a breeze on the night air as you slowly fell back into your senses.

But it was a rude awakening, that freezing riptide of realizing the gravity of what you’d just done.

You kicked Chan off of you now that he appeared to be coming back, too, and equally as hungover it seemed. He groaned in the grass before he reached for you. You looked down in horror in the blood streaked down you, and as Chan laid an assumedly comforting hand on your thigh — whether for his sake or yours you weren’t sure — you shoved him back onto the opened animal trap as you scrambled up onto your quivering legs. He barked out a curse as he landed on the teeth of the trap before he tried to get up and follow after you, but you’d already taken off in a frantic hurry back to the house, chased as you were by shame and embarrassment that you could let this happen in the middle of a crisis. 

The blood and dirt caking the bottom of your boots made you slip on the cold tile of the house once you rushed inside, and bounded up the stairs, Chan hot on your trail as he suddenly remembered why he was supposedly needed back here. 

You stopped short as you stumbled into the study when everyone turned to look at you, a vision in red with your jacket hanging slack off one shoulder. Jisung looked terrified, his wide eyes darting between you and Chan running in behind you, looking no better and equally as haggard. Nonetheless, he caught you as you fell into his arms, his safe scent enveloping you again as he tried to steady you enough to take a look at you. 

“Felix—” Chan panted from where he stood in the doorway. 

“Chan,” Felix brokenly called back. 

Joanne and Lucy held Judy in their arms where she lay on the hearth on the fireplace. The lighter blood swathed across her lips matched the healing wounds on Felix and Jisung and painted quite the picture: everyone frantically working to get Judy the blood she needed — but it looked as though it may be too late still. Lia sat beside Felix on the floor in front of the couch, with Yuna sitting atop it behind them, knees drawn up to her chest and nervously watching in tortured wait. 

Chan knelt beside the younger wolf, pressing his forehead sympathetically to Felix’s as Lia got up to her feet now. 

“Jisung,” you feebly murmured into his shoulder, “is Judy—”

“We did everything we could so far,” he quietly replied, his gentle voice cracking a bit under the emotional weight. “An emergency room won’t have the resources for her. Lia tried to call a trusted doctor, but they wouldn’t be able to come before tomorrow night.”

“Felix,” Chan lamented, “what did you do?”

“I — fuck — it was so fast, I just…” Felix choked up hard. 

“Tell him, dear,” Lia prodded as she walked over to the fireplace. “This shouldn’t be so hard. You already told us. Just tell it again.”

“I… she…” Felix fought for words, swallowing down his rising emotions again so he could say what happened. “We were in bed. She was reading to me. The pages were stuck, and when she finally got them apart, she nicked herself… just the smallest drop of blood, but Chan, I’ve been so hungry, you know — and I just, she must’ve seen how I looked and how I smelled it, and she offered to let me taste if it would help, and—”

“Felix,” Chan gasped, and it still came out like an admonishment. 

“I know,” Felix sobbed, weighty tears falling down his face as Chan put an arm around him. 

“Now we all know,” Lia interjected coolly from where she stood at the fireplace. She used the poker in her hand to stoke the flames, to keep the room warm for Judy whose breathing was ragged and shallow where she lay with the girls. Lia looked back over her shoulder at you. “And now that we all know, maybe we should all know what is especially concerning about this.”

Jisung and Chan steeled themselves as Lia turned. She stepped once, twice, closer to Felix, giving him time to look up at her before Chan butted in. 

“Lia, we don’t have to do it like this—” 

“Enough, mutt,” she ordered, before she drove the iron poker into Felix’s chest and shoved until the barbed end pushed through. Everyone jolted at Felix’s stunned yell, even Judy stirring for a moment in concern. Yuna screamed, but stayed put, almost frozen in place. “I asked you both to stay away from my girls for a reason,” Lia scolded. “I afforded too many people in this house the benefit of the doubt, and now the blood that has wrought is on all of our hands.”

Lia took a moment to breathe. You all did, only the crackling fire offering any observations for a minute. Finally, as you all settled in your tension, Lia stooped down to resume her seat next to Felix, almost maternally scooping him into her arms and laying him in her lap as she stroked his hair. 

“Where was I?” Lia asked quietly, her eyes tiredly cast down at Felix. His muted sniffles and silent tears cut into your heart. You could swear Judy was sleepily watching him from the fireplace. “Tell them why this is bad, Lia,” Jisung softly prompted. His arms squeezed protectively around you, but his fingers still trembled.

“I suppose we’ll need context,” Lia sighed, settling into this and gathering the energy. “I met Adam Shepherd a lifetime ago. My parents were affluent, and we could afford to travel often. I was young, just started college, on holiday with my parents when I stumbled across his shop one evening. I was charmed by the old man. He always had an anecdote or a recommendation or something to show me. He said I shined so bright he didn’t need the sun, when I asked why he wasn’t open during the day. I adored him. I visited him every day, and when I convinced my parents to return that winter, I visited him every day then, too. It was shortly before I was supposed to leave that he told me. He told me about his life, what it meant, and I was dazzled. He asked if I would stay, and I did. 

“He waited three months to turn me, and when he was done we held each other and cried, we were so happy. I loved him as if he were my own grandfather, a kind of relationship I’d never known before since I never met either of my own. But, about a year later, we grew weary bringing in donors. That’s when Shepherd suggested hiring some help. This was Minho, who was the most beautiful boy I’d ever met in my life, up to and including any I had met while under Shepherd’s tutelage. I was infatuated, but I was nervous, and I wasn’t sure why, but I found out a month later when I caught Minho hunting late last night. He was a wolf, and I’d never met one before. I asked him if Shepherd knew, and Minho told me that he had known right away, and hired him anyhow. Sometimes, he told me, he wondered if he hired him because of that.

“It was easy to love Minho after I knew. He told me that when he looked at me, it felt like he was laying in a field on a sunny day, basking in the warmth. He claimed me on a humid summer night. It burned, when his blood touched the wound he opened in me, but it was the happiest I’d ever been.”

Lia slipped open the buttons of her blouse and let it fall open. A light scar of a bite, faded to a blushing pink, sat on her breast over her heart. However, a massive scar also webbed across her stomach, one you’d never been allowed to see before.

“That same summer was also when trouble began,” Lia continued. “What Minho hadn’t told me yet was that he had run away from his pack when he found Shepherd. What Shepherd hadn’t told him was that he knew. Minho ran from the store and up to the house one night and told me that Shepherd was a madman, that he was trying to develop a cure for lycanthropy and it was dangerous at the very least, and that we should run. I couldn’t. I trusted Shepherd, I loved him. I wouldn’t abandon him, even if it was Minho telling me to.

“I regret that choice every day of my life. I should’ve left with him. It was two days later that the pack arrived. They got me right as I was waking up, and when I finally understood what was happening, I was surrounded by wolves in a motel room by the beach. Shepherd arrived, and I begged him to tell me what was happening, and he simply kissed my forehead and told me I had been the best. He was saying goodbye, and I was so terrified. The others brought Minho in, and that’s when Shepherd stabbed me, once, in the belly. I remembered that Minho hadn’t been hunting, he said he was scared of running into the pack, and once he smelled me…”

You watched, broken as Lia’s breath wavered for a moment until she composed herself.

“I don’t remember much, other than Minho cried as he tore me apart, even inside the wolf. I remember that and the moon outside the window. It was the first night of the full moon. I felt empty when they dragged Minho off of me, and they left me for dead. I woke up in a coroner’s office a week later, having had to rest through it without any blood to help me. Shepherd never came looking for me.” 

“Why did they leave you?” Felix weakly asked.

“I’m getting there, dear,” Lia assured him, gently patting his arm as she nudged him off her lap and rose to her feet. Felix groaned as he leaned back on Chan for support. Lia turned to face him again before she grabbed onto the iron poker and swiftly yanked it out. The younger wolf let out a hoarse cry as the wound erupted, and Chan cursed before he tried to clap a hand over it. He froze as Lia pressed the tip against his hand. “No one touch him. We’re still waiting.”

“Waiting for what, Lia?” You pleaded, holding tight onto Jisung’s hand where he held you.

“I went to find the pack,” Lia continued regardless of your request. “They were in the woods on the edge of Shepherd’s property line where they were apparently hiding out, and they each took a turn interrogating Minho for more information while they tried to figure out how to prove if he was cured or not. When Shepherd finally came, he said there was only one way to know for sure. He drew out his pistol, and he shot the man I loved. He reeled, but he was fine, and I was hopeful for one cursed moment. I watched him unload the pistol, load it with silver, and shoot him again. The pack was disgusted. They called Shepherd a crazy old man and ran. What they didn’t know was that this was just another trial run for Shepherd. He figured it out eventually.”

Lia caught her breath to finish her story when the girls gasped by the fireplace. Lucy was first, erupting into bitter tears. She gently shook Judy’s shoulders, but all the color she had left had drained. Yuna finally moved, leaping over and grabbing her sister and shaking her harder.

“Chae!” Yuna screamed. “Chae, come on! Chae! This isn’t fair!”

Amidst this, a pained cough caught your attention. Felix doubled over, gasping and clutching his chest as if he were just feeling his wound for the first time. Chan sat up straighter, trying to get a better look at him. When you looked to Lia, your eyes growing wider in realization, her hard gaze silently implored you to watch. This was what you were waiting for. Felix wheezed through his pain, but you noticed a new warmth in his cheeks that hadn’t been there before. 

“Alright dear,” Lia sighed at Felix as she went to set the poker down, “let's get you fixed up and then we’ll take care—”

“NO!” Yuna roared. 

Everything moved at once.

Lia hardly had a chance to stop her once Yuna lunged forward, snatching the poker from her hand and driving it back into Felix’s chest.

[To be continued.]

<prev | next>

[gamerwoo]

[SVT Imprinted] Wonwoo: Perfect

Anonymous asked: Hi I read your tall gf headcanons and i was wondering if you could do a oneshot for Mingyu or Wonwoo or Seungcheol? And could it be a college au but with a twist? Any kind of twist just something to make it a little different. Thank you!

Characters: Wonwoo x (tall) female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, college au, fluff, angst, crack, some suggestive comments but it’s really tame don’t worry

Word count: 4,431

Summary: As a mate, it’s Wonwoo’s job to make sure you as his girlfriend are protected, healthy, and happy. Therefore, he’s always there to constantly remind you that he loves everything about you; including your long legs, and weird shenanigans that you always get sucked into by his pack mates.

Tags: @psshwa​

a/n: hi none of these are going to be super different, they just needed a fuck ton of editing but the stories will mostly be the same unless stated otherwise ok thank u

Next | Imprinted Masterlist

“What are you doing?” Wonwoo grumbled, his voice raspy from sleeping.

He wandered into the living room in search of his mate -- despite your height, you were surprisingly easy to lose -- only to find you perched on one of the exposed beams in the living room, with Soonyoung looking up at you with a mischievous smile.

The two of you snapped your heads toward Wonwoo who had entered, rubbing his eyes tiredly. You figured it was about time he woke up but you never woke him up whenever you slept over. You always let him sleep in, and he appreciated it usually, unless he woke up to weird things like this.

‘How was she shy when I met her?’ he asked himself.

That was partly true, but he quickly discovered after the three months of dating you that there were two sides to you: the shy, quiet side that you usually showed at school, and...well, whatever this side was. It also tended to make an appearance when you tried to test his power and dominance, which was often.

After Wonwoo had explained to you that he was a werewolf, you seemed to have made it your goal to push his buttons -- all lovingly and in good fun. You knew it was in his instincts to be dominant and protective, yet you constantly felt you could test that because you were only a couple inches shy of him.

Although, that was kind of what initially attracted him -- other than the instinctive connection all werewolves felt to their mates -- when he first saw you. You were a foreign student at their university that was working as a library assistant, and you almost quite literally took Wonwoo’s breath away when he saw you walk by. Your legs seemed to go on forever, and while he didn’t think he’d like such a tall girl, it was like a breath of fresh air compared to most of the girls who were shorter than you.

However, your height was now what seemed to get you in trouble. Like now.

“Climbing,” you replied with a shrug as if it was a normal thing.

“How did you even get up there?” he asked, almost immediately regretting the question.

“I gave her a boost!” Soonyoung grinned. “Everyone else is either too short or too heavy, and I wanted the lighter Jun took from me.”

Wonwoo wasn’t sure how or why Jun put Soonyoung’s lighter up that high -- or why Soonyoung even had a lighter -- but now wasn’t the time to question it.

“You’re going to get hurt,” he sighed, moving to stand under you so he could catch you. “Get down from there.”

“Top of your head looks nice, Woo,” you grinned down at him, tossing the lighter from your hand to Soonyoung who caught it between both hands.

“Thanks, you’re the best!” he cheered before running off somewhere else, letting Wonwoo deal with getting you down.

You frowned, watching Wonwoo’s pack mate go, “Thanks for the help.”

“I thought you hated feeling tall?” he asked, still staring up at you and waiting for you to slip down from the beam into his awaiting arms.

Despite the fact you used your height to your advantage, you hated how tall you were. A lot of people at school would whisper things about you and pick on you, and even sometimes the pack did, too. The only ones who left you alone about it were Seungcheol, Soonyoung, Hansol, and obviously Wonwoo -- and Jihoon, but he only never mentioned it because he didn’t want to accept it.

“I do but I wanted to help,” you shrugged.

“Help my nerves by getting down from there. We both have to get ready for class.”

“Yeah but--”

“Now,” he said a little more firmly -- a voice he usually used when you decided to test him. It wasn’t a mean voice that made you afraid, it just let you know he wasn’t backing down anytime soon.

With a tiny huff, you bit the inside of your cheek, quietly admitting, “I’m scared…”

Wonwoo’s face softened, chuckling as he waved you down with the bend of his fingers. “Come on, _____, I promise to catch you. You and I both know I’m strong enough.”

“Trust me, I know,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes.

He grinned smugly, his tongue poking between his set of perfect teeth, knowing exactly what you were hinting at. He had yet to properly mark you but that didn’t mean you couldn’t have some fun before you were ready for that, right?

“Come on,” he said softly once more, “just slide down.”

Inhaling deeply, you slid off the wooden beam and practically onto Wonwoo’s chest. He caught you just below your backside with a huff, his arms wrapping securely around your thighs. You exhaled quickly while Wonwoo smiled up at you proudly.

“Thanks,” you smiled softly, your hands resting on his shoulders as you bent your head to press a kiss to the button of his nose.

“Alright,” he set you down on the floor carefully and placed a hand on the small of your back, guiding you to go back upstairs, “go get changed so we can leave.”

He watched you go, still wondering why Junhui put Soonyoung’s lighter up on a beam.

-

Wonwoo sat at the table closest to the front desk of the library with his head bent down over his textbook and notebooks. Across the room, Mingyu was flipping through a book as he, Hansol, and Minghao spoke lowly among themselves, glancing up to look between Wonwoo and you where you stood behind the front desk every so often. You didn’t know why the group wasn’t sitting together but that was their business, not your’s.

You couldn’t help but look up from your computer at Wonwoo who had his ‘concentration face’ on as he skimmed his book through his round glasses -- which he didn’t even need to wear -- occasionally pushing the frames back up his nose with his index finger. You always thought he looked the cutest while he studied but you wouldn’t ever tell him that because then he’d be too self aware about it and always be looking for you watching him.

Your eyes drifted from Wonwoo to focus on the movement you saw in your peripherals. It was a couple standing by a shelf, the girl standing up on her toes trying to reach a book while the boy grabbed it for her, playfully teasing her by keeping the book held above her head. He refused to give it to her until she pressed a kiss to his cheek, making him blush softly as he gladly gave her the book she was after.

With a frown creasing your features, you turned back to your computer. You wished you could do cute couple things like that with Wonwoo but how could you? You could reach anything he could even if there was a very slim height difference. You often wished you were short enough to actually do those cute things with him, but you never voiced that because you knew it would only upset him.

“Hungry?” Wonwoo’s deep voice broke you from your thoughts, causing you to soften your face and look up at him. “You have your grumpy face on so I can only assume it’s from hunger.”

“It’s, uh-- Yeah,” you quickly tried to recover by going along with whatever he said.

But you both knew Wonwoo’s sharp senses caught your every word, including your slip-ups. “_____? What’s wrong?”

You stood up with a sigh, eye level with him because of the way he was slightly leaning over the desk, “It’s nothing, I’m okay. I promise.”

While Wonwoo was paying attention to you, his enhanced hearing picked up a conversation two people were having somewhere else in the library. Normally, he was able to drown out the talking but he heard your name and that piqued his interest.

“Isn’t she too tall for him?” a girl was asking. “Or literally anybody?”

He’d definitely heard these comments about you before -- he knew you heard them from his pack but he hoped not from people on campus too -- but he never paid them any attention. What other people thought of you didn’t matter because he loved you exactly the way you were. In fact, you were perfect for him.

“She seems too masculine being so tall,” another girl commented with a click of her tongue. “Poor Wonwoo is wasted on her. I’d give anything to climb him like a tree.”

“I bet he’s the one who has to climb her,” the first girl giggled.

Internally, he rolled his eyes, and it took everything for him to not start snarling. Instead, a low grumble emitted from his chest, but it was so low that not even his mate across from him heard it. He was thankful for that because then you’d ask what he was getting worked up about.

“Wonwoo?” you asked, waving a hand in front of his face. “You’re about to break the desk; you’re knuckles are white.”

He normally never spaced out on you like this, but he was getting too absorbed in the hurtful comments about his mate, and it was getting him too worked up. He softly shook his head to clear the thoughts and words from his head, wanting to completely focus on you and not make you worried or concerned.

“Sorry, I remembered…something,” he released his grip on the desk -- he didn’t even know he was holding onto the edge of it until you said something -- and waved his not-so-clever lie away. “Anyway, I wanna talk about what’s bothering you.”

“Right now?”

Wonwoo glanced around, pausing for his eyes to linger on the few members of his pack that were definitely listening, “Okay, point made… Can you take a break?”

“Can you?” you teased, gesturing to the work splayed out over the table. “You have a lot of studying to do, Woo. You know you need to pass this exam.”

“You’re more important.”

His response was immediate, like there was no question about it, which to him, there wasn’t. He’d pick you over anything, which you should’ve known by now but you sometimes seemed to forget, only to grin widely whenever he showed how much he really, deeply cared for you.

“Besides, I’m a straight A student and you know it,” he reminded you, booping your nose.

“Finish your notes and we can go,” you promised with a smile, rolling your eyes.

He leaned over the desk to swiftly kiss your lips. He wasn’t a huge fan of PDA but he couldn’t resist.

“I’ll be done in five,” he promised.

“Don’t rush!” you softly called after him as he walked back to the table.

-

The two of you sat in the middle of the courtyard, Wonwoo’s head in your lap as you softly played with his hair and massaged his scalp with your fingertips, making low, content hums rumble in his chest every few moments when you hit a spot he especially liked. He remembered the first few times you would play with his hair like this before he told you about him, and it took everything for him to not practically purr and nuzzle into your hand.

“Okay,” Wonwoo began, the straw to his smoothie that was sitting beside him in the grass hanging lazily from the corner of his mouth, “talk to me. What’s going on? Is it classes? Work?”

You shrugged, leaning back on your hands as you stared straight ahead at the people walking in and out of the cafeteria -- anywhere but down at Wonwoo, “Sort of.”

He shielded his eyes from the sun to look up at you, studying your face for any sign that would tell him what was wrong. “’Sort of’? Come on, love, I can’t help if you won’t tell me.”

“Can you control an entire campus of students?” you asked sarcastically, the frown from earlier forming on your face as you turned away, tears threatening to spill out.

Wonwoo saw, though, and quickly sat up, pulling you into his lap instead. His arms always felt warm and safe, so you couldn’t help but rest your head on his shoulder and relax there.

“Hey, hey, come on,” he said softly, trying to soothe you enough to keep you from crying in the middle of the campus -- not that he cared who saw but he knew you would care, “it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” you sighed, closing your eyes as you wrapped your arms around yourself. He quickly came to realize a while ago it was a habit of yours when you felt especially insecure. “I thought going to school in a new place would be really fun and a cool experience, but everyone just comments about how I’m ‘too tall’. If I wanted to get made fun of, I should’ve stayed--”

“Ah, don’t finish that,” he quickly interrupted, capturing your chin in one hand and pressing the pad of his thumb to your lips. “_____, if you didn’t come here for school, you and I would’ve never met. Who knows if I would’ve ever found you?”

“I know, but…” you trailed off, unable to find a good excuse. Truth was, you would suffer the teasing for one hundred years if it meant you could be with Wonwoo. You let out a defeated sigh. “Okay, you win.”

He smiled proudly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “That’s what I thought. What other people say about you shouldn’t matter, okay? Besides, you know how much I love your legs…”

As he let his voice trail off, he also let his hands trail up one of your legs slowly, his fingertips dragging over your exposed skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Your face burned and you gently swatted his hand away, “Dude, don’t be weird about it!”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, wrapping his arm around you again, “but seriously, you’re so helpful. Hell, you helped Soonyoung this morning! You’ve helped Chan when Josh puts his stuff up where he can’t reach it; you’ve even shot fear into Jihoon’s soul on multiple occasions!”

“That’s only because Jihoon gets nervous around girls. I could be five feet tall and he’d still be afraid of me.”

“You can get pretty feisty, though,” Wonwoo chuckled with a nod.

“Hey!” Joshua’s familiar voice was cheery behind Wonwoo as he walked up and plopped down beside the two of you.

Wonwoo placed you on the grass between them, realizing they had gotten way too comfortable for being in public, “Hey, Shua.”

After Joshua had made himself comfortable, Wonwoo leaned into your ear, “We’re not done with this conversation.”

“What’re you guys doing?” Josh asked, a warm smile on his face.

“He’s supposed to be studying,” you told the older wolf, sending a sideways glance to your boyfriend.

Joshua laughed, placing his plate with five pieces of pizza -- these werewolves really ate a lot -- in his lap, “You should know by now that he has a hard time concentrating with you around.”

He did have a point but it was hard for you to stay away from him, too. You sighed as you stretched your legs out in front of you, thinking about if you should leave Wonwoo here to study with Joshua or not. Part of you didn’t want to go back into the library alone.

“Your legs look nice in those shorts,” Joshua commented around a mouthful of pizza before looking at Wonwoo who you just knew was glaring at the older boy. “Not in a creepy way, though. Promise.”

You and Joshua were pretty close considering he was one of the two wolves who you could speak to in your native language. You were teaching Wonwoo things here and there, but Joshua made a much better teacher than you did in your opinion.

Although, he still did sometimes poke fun at you for being so tall.

“Thanks,” you blushed softly, looking across the courtyard to see a small group of the pack walking toward them.

“Wonwoo!” Jeonghan called, picking up his pace slightly. “I need help with literature!”

Wonwoo sighed beside you, “I’m supposed to be taking a break!”

“You’re supposed to be studying,” you corrected, glaring at him playfully.

While you didn’t think you made a good tutor, Wonwoo made a great one. He was planning on becoming a literature teacher, after all, so it only made sense.

Jeonghan reached their small group of three the fastest and immediately sat in the grass, taking off his backpack and unzipping it to take his things out, “Yeah, but I got a test that I didn’t study for.”

“That’s not my problem,” he whined.

As the two wolves bickered over school issues, Chan ran up to you and sat down between yours and Joshua’s legs, grinning back at you, “I was looking for you in the library but you weren’t there.”

You smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, I needed a break.”

“So do I, that’s why I wanted to find you,” he sighed dreamily, turning to the side and laying down, resting his head on your shin and his legs going over Joshua’s. “You’re the least annoying out of all of us.”

It was like the pack somehow sensed you were feeling upset, and now they were all coming to gather to make you feel better. You leaned over to mess with Chan’s bangs before sitting back on your hands again, looking down fondly at the youngest.

“I’ll take that as half a compliment.” you nodded with a chuckle. “Thanks, Channie.”

It wasn’t unusual for the pack to be so clingy with you. They did treat you like you were part of their family, but since you were the first girl to really be in the pack, they all kind of clung to you. You liked it, though. It made you feel included and cared about.

Seungcheol sat down by your feet, sitting criss-cross with Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Seokmin sitting by him. The four boys had lunch with them and began eating, saying bright hello’s to you before they dug in.

“Thanks again for helping this morning,” Soonyoung grinned, handing a little box of strawberry milk with a straw over to you. “This is to make up for leaving you stuck up there this morning.”

“Clearly she’s not stuck because she’s here,” Wonwoo spoke up, looking away from Jeonghan’s notebook full of half-assed notes. “I got her down, no thanks to you.”

“But I got her up there,” Soonyoung stuck his tongue out at him, “so who really accomplished a greater feat here?”

“Just stop putting my girlfriend on the ceiling,” Wonwoo huffed. “Last week, Hansol made her go up on the fridge for a fucking vine reference. I should wake up to her laying beside me, not my brothers making her do dumb things because she can.”

“Jihoon was too short to get on the fridge,” Hansol suddenly said behind you, sitting himself down beside you. You hadn’t even seen him and the other two leave the library or even walk over. “Plus, Chan was in class with Minghao, and everyone else was too big.”

“Yeah, she’s perfect size!” Soonyoung grinned. “She can do everything we can’t.”

“Like shooting terror into Jihoon’s heart,” Seungkwan laughed, earning a nudge from a smirking Seungcheol.

Wonwoo just looked at you with a smug smile, “Told ya.”

-

Seungcheol walked you to their home since Wonwoo had to go home early to help Jihoon with his homework -- he was basically the pack tutor. You did like being around Seungcheol, though, since he was the alpha and knew to protect you just as well as Wonwoo did. The only difference was you never dared test or tease the alpha, so you listened to him without complaint, even when he made you walk on the inside of the sidewalk as if you were a child.

He opened the door for you, allowing you to enter and drop your bag on the floor before running off to find your boyfriend. You found him in the living room sitting on the floor near the coffee table with Jihoon as they looked through various textbooks and notes, while Junhui and Soonyoung were staring up at the exposed beams of the ceiling, Jun looking smug and Soonyoung with a pout.

“Hey, _____, you’re back!” Soonyoung grinned as soon as he noticed you enter. “Can you--”

“No,” Wonwoo immediately stated, not looking up from his work. “If you get her up there again, I’ll rip off your limbs with my teeth.”

“Kinky,” Jun commented quietly.

Wonwoo glared at him over the rim of his glasses with a warning growl.

“Is anybody else kind of curious as to how he got her up there to begin with?” Seungcheol wondered, looking between you, Soonyoung, and the beam in question. “It’s still…pretty high.”

Soonyoung gestured to your legs, his expression blank, “Exhibit A.”

“Can we stop this please?” Wonwoo sighed, his eyebrows pulling together.

“I need to go change anyway,” you announced, gesturing toward the stairs with your thumb. “Besides, if Jun put that lighter back on the ceiling, it’s probably there for good reason.”

You disappeared as Soonyoung pouted, darting up the stairs to Wonwoo’s room. You peeled your clothes off and replaced them with a t-shirt that belonged to Wonwoo, and a pair of cotton shorts that you had left in his room for when you slept over.

The door suddenly opened and Wonwoo slipped through before closing it again with a click. His expression was neutral as he took his glasses off and looked at you, “About our conversation earlier--”

“Can we not?” you begged with a soft whine, turning away from him to put your hair up. “It’s embarrassing and you’ll just laugh at me and call me silly.”

“I’d never make you think your feelings are invalid,” he frowned, walking up to you and placing his hands on your hips, resting his chin on your shoulder. “So tell me what’s going on. Is it really just people saying mean things?”

You sighed deeply, still not looking at him. You just stared across the room out the window at the clouds floating in the afternoon sky, “Don’t you ever wish you had someone shorter than me?”

“Huh?”

“Someone you could do cute things with like hold things above their head and make them kiss you to get it back?”

He just shrugged, “Seems kind of mean.”

“Or someone who needs you for things, like to reach things for them or to pick them up?”

“You still need me for things, and I can still pick you up,” he replied with a short chuckle. “What’re you getting at, _____?”

“I just want to be short, okay?”

He straightened, turning you to face him, “What why? Is this because of what people have been saying?”

You shyly met his ember eyes -- he always took the brown contacts out immediately after coming home -- but thankfully, you weren't about to cry like earlier that day, “No, I’ve just always wanted to be. I hate sticking out. I hate not being able to do cute, cliche things. It’s always short girls who are considered cute, and then there’s me. I’m... Don’t you think I’m like...too tall?”

“Of course I don’t! Why would you suddenly think otherwise?”

“I always think otherwise, I just don’t tell you,” you laughed coldly, wrapping your arms around yourself and staring at the floor rather than your mate. “I always see cute couples doing things we can’t because I’m too tall. The only time the pack says anything good about my height is when they want something from me, and even you don’t like that I’m the ‘perfect height’ because I’m always doing things you don’t like me doing.”

“That has nothing to do with your height, _____,” he frowned, pulling you in for a tight hug. His hand rubbed up and down your back as your hands fisted the front of his shirt. “I can tell you do those weird things because they ask you to and you want them to think you’re useful rather than saying you’re too tall. I can ask them to back off if it’s been bothering you that much. As for the couples things, we can still do a bunch of cute things that other couples can’t.”

“Like what?” your question was muffled by his chest, which made him chuckle.

“Well,” he began, pulling away slightly to look at you, “I won’t have back problems trying to bend to kiss you. We can also share clothes a lot better; and you’re not so reliant on me, so that makes you more independent. And, it’s very cute seeing you try to be tougher and more assertive than me.”

“I am tough and assertive!” you pouted, crossing your arms over your chest.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, effortlessly picking you up off the ground and grinning widely as he heard you giggle and squeal, “Yeah? Then get yourself down, darling.”

“That’s not fair, you have superhuman strength, and I have the strength of a noodle compared to you.”

He laid you down on the bed before leaning over you, his hands resting on either side of your face so he wasn’t crushing you. His golden eyes were playful as he bared his fangs to you, still smiling brighter than the sun seeping in through the window.

“I’m still the boss,” he stated, ending his case.

“Nuh uh, you said yourself you’d do anything I say,” you reminded him, leaning up to kiss his nose.

“Oh, I forgot one other thing,” he reached down with one hand, stroking up your leg until his hand was high on your right thigh, “your legs are also incredibly sexy.”

You made a face, gently pushing on his chest, “Gross, your brothers can hear you!”

Wonwoo suddenly sat up, wrinkling his nose as he sniffed the air. At first, you thought he was trying to see if any of the pack members were eavesdropping, but then he went to the door and threw it open, looking into the hallway. Then you smelled it too: smoke.

“What the hell is on fire?” he called out.

Junhui huffed from down the hallway, quickly walking passed the open doorway with his trash can that was currently on fire, “This is why the lighter should be left where Soonyoung can’t get it!”

[esmealux]

Ship: Sailing

Part: 1 / 1 (But you can read it as a sequel to this piece.)

Setting: After 5x06

Word count: 1.6K

Rating: T

Summary: Ella finds out her OTP is finally happening. Or, Lucifer bragging about finally having sex with Chloe, Ella fangirling over it, and Chloe being horny so done with them.

Author’s note: I wrote this before watching 5x07, i.e. before seeing Ella’s actual reaction, so consider this an alternative take on it.

‘Hey, Ella,’ Chloe greets her as she walks into the lab, coffee in hand. Ella greets her back before holding up a crucial piece of evidence. ‘Okay, so I wiped the keys you found for prints, and guess wha-’ As Ella lifts her head to see her co-worker’s reaction when she tells her they have a new lead, she realises she isn’t listening; her face is turned away, an anxious look on her face. Or is it excited? Following her line of sight to see what, or who, has Chloe’s attention, she spots a familiar three-piece suit through the cracks between the blinds. Ella smiles knowingly. ‘So, Chloe, did you and Lucifer finally-

‘Good morning, miss Lopez!’

‘Well, speak of the Devil, I guess,’ Ella quips when Lucifer enters the room… with an unprecedentedly cheerful look on his face. She waits for his reaction to her remark, a nod of approval for playing along with his whole ‘I’m the devil’-thing, but this co-worker doesn’t seem to listen either. His eyes are fixed on Chloe, an ear-to-ear grin on his face. She smiles right back at him, their bodies leaning towards each other, like two magnets. Two in looove magnets. Chloe takes a sip of her Starbucks order, her eyes lingering on Lucifer, who is staring hypnotised at her lips. Something definitely went down between them. But then why didn’t they get here together?

‘So… you two didn’t come together today?’ She asks, making it sound more like a question than a statement. Her lips curve slightly upwards against her will, and she fails to hide the excitement in her eyes.

Chloe almost chokes on her coffee. Meanwhile, a complacent smirk slowly spreads on Lucifer’s face. ‘Oh, we came together, Miss Lopez,’ he informs her, looking smugger and… happier than Ella’s ever seen him. ‘Quite a few times actually,’ he shamelessly adds under his breath as he directs his smirk at Chloe. She’s coughing, her hand clutched to her chest; with a ‘Dearie me’ Lucifer places his hand on her back and looks at her with genuine concern. ‘Are you okay, Detective? Do you need anything?’

‘She’ll be fine,’ Ella reassures him. She needs answers. ‘I just- Are you saying what I think you’re saying?!’ Her smile grows bigger with every word. ‘Did you two-’ She lets her eyes slide back and forth between her friends. Lucifer moves an inch closer to Chloe, his hand gliding down Chloe’s back, only to brush his fingers discretely, or so he thinks, against her butt as he lets out a deep, satisfied sigh. ‘Mm-hmm.’

Oh. Ehm. Gee. Her Deckerstar dreams are coming true. Ella needs more information.

‘Finally!’ She exclaims, earning a look of agreement from Lucifer. ‘I mean, that’s huge, you guys! So tell me…’ She says, pushing aside some evidence, carefully of course, as she places her arms on the table and leans forward. ‘How was it?’ She cocks her eye, focusing on Chloe. (Ella notices her friend’s make-up is a little smudged, but the ‘freshly boned’-glow really works for her). Chloe doesn’t answer her question. Instead, she looks up at Lucifer, who’s standing even closer to her now, and shakes her head, followed by a classic Chloe eye roll. Ella does notice just the hint of a smile, though.

‘Oh, spit it out, Decker!’ Ella demands, crossing her arms. Lucifer casts a glance at her before looking at Chloe again. ‘Yes, Detective. How was it?’

Chloe sighs and places her cup on the table. ‘Well, there’s nothing to tell. It was just sex,’ she tells them, now failing massively to hide her smile.

‘Just sex?’ Ella repeats sceptically, trying to give Chloe her best ‘I know you’re lying and that you’re the murderer’-face (it’s not as good as Chloe’s, though). Lucifer chuckles and scoffs. ‘“Just sex”. Preposterous. I believe the words “best I ever had” were used.’ He puffs out his chest and grins, proud.

‘Well, of course it was! You two are crazy about each other – and that makes it tha best kind of sex!’

Chloe opens her mouth only to close it again. She clears her throat. Then she opens her mouth again. ‘Well, no, I mean, yes, but-’ She’s interrupted by Ella’s squeal and a pleased ‘See?’ from Lucifer. Chloe closes her eyes for a second, sighing, before she continues. ‘But I believe Lucifer,’ she turns her head to face him as she enounces his name, “was the one to use the words “best I ever had”.’ He beams at her unapologetically and smoothly steps behind her, placing both hands on her hips as he leans down to whisper in her ear. ‘Well, you might not have used those exact words, Detective, but you did…’

Ella can’t hear the last bit, but whatever it is, it makes Chloe blush and mouth fall slightly open. They both chuckle quietly together, Lucifer nuzzling his nose against the side of Chloe’s face. When their eyes land on Ella, she sees a mixture of confusion and concern on their faces. Apparently, she was staring. She can’t help it; the OTP feels are hitting her, and they’re hitting her hard.

‘Miss Lopez, are you alright?’ Lucifer asks her, his hands still on Chloe’s hips. She notices how he’s snuck his fingers underneath Chloe’s – or his own, it seems – shirt and is lightly brushing her side with the tip of his fingers.

‘What? No, I’m totes okay, are you crazy? You guys are the cutest! I’m so happy for you,’ she tells them, propping her head on her now folded hands as she smiles at them.

‘Thanks, Ella.’ Chloe smiles back at her before turning her body just a tad so she can look up into Lucifer’s twinkling, brown eyes. Her hand slides up his forearm, slowly and lovingly. ‘I’m happy for us too,’ she admits quietly. Lucifer’s lips part and the softest smile forms on his face. He looks… emotional. Are his eyes a little damp? Adorbs.

‘Uhm,’ Chloe mutters, taking her eyes of Lucifer, who continues to look at her like she’s everything he never knew he wanted. Her hand slides back down his forearm and into his hand. Their fingers intertwine. Ella’s afraid her lips might be stuck in a stupid grin for the rest of the day. ‘Would you mind not telling anyone about this?’ Chloe asks, raising her and Lucifer’s hands a little between them. ‘Just for now?’

Ella nods, still entranced. She’ll gladly keep her mouth shut if it means the two lovebirds get a little more undisturbed time in their bubble. ‘Of course.’

‘Thanks,’ Chloe whispers, before letting her gaze glide back to her tall, dark and handsome boyfriend. They seriously can’t keep their eyes off each other. Nor their hands, it seems; Lucifer’s index finger is tracing patterns on Chloe’s thigh, their hands still locked. Meanwhile, Chloe’s free hand is on Lucifer’s lower back, clenching his suit jacket. Their eyes are sparkling with warmth and joy… and love? Suddenly Ella feels like she’s invading their privacy.

‘I’ll give you guys a minute.’

She starts walking towards the door, getting a double-shot of Lucifer’s signature scent as she passes her two friends. Neither of them seem to notice that she’s leaving. Just as she’s about to open the door and make her exit, she turns around towards them, clearing her throat. They stop whatever conversation they’re having with their eyes to look at her. ‘Just a tiny tip. If you don’t want people to know about you two, you know, shagging,’ Ella imitates Lucifer’s British accent, and the power couple share a glance and a chuckle, like there’s an inside joke. ‘Well, maybe think about, like, freshin’ up your make-up a little, Chloe. And you might also want to put on a shirt that doesn’t look like you picked it up from a certain Mr. Morningstar’s floor,’ Ella pauses to wink at Lucifer, who’s never looked more delighted. ‘Also, his cologne is aaaall over you. Oh, and,’ Ella begins to add as she notices something from this new angle. ‘That’s a really nice shade on you, Lucifer.’ She gestures to her own neck to show him what she means, but he doesn’t seem to listen to that bit.

‘She smells like me?’ Lucifer asks, clearly satisfied. As he breathes his partner in, she rolls her eyes and tries to cover up the dark lipstick marks visible above his collar. ‘Oh, buttoning up now, are we? Funny, ‘cause in the car you couldn’t rip it open fast enough.’ Lucifer chuckles. Chloe shakes her head and palms her face.

‘In the car?!’ Ella exclaims, maybe a little too loudly. ‘I get it, girlfriend. Once you get a piece of this,’ she gestures towards Lucifer and clicks her tongue, ‘how can you get enough?’

Lucifer grins at Ella. ‘I sure hope she can’t.’ Chloe tries feigning annoyance, but she can’t help but bite her lip and look at him hungrily. She’s totally already thinking about when she’ll be able to jump his bones again.

‘Anyway, just thought I’d remind you that pretty much everyone here are, like, literal pros at piecing two and two together, and you, my good friends, are screaming ‘guilty’ – guilty in having had mind-blowing sex all night.’ She watches their faces as Lucifer’s grin grows even wider with a delighted ‘Oh’ and Chloe’s cheeks turn slightly red. ‘I’m just gonna grab a hot chocolate. Please don’t have sex on the evidence while I’m gone. This case has enough butt prints already.’

Before the door closes shut behind her, Ella hears Chloe playfully scolding Lucifer. ‘What did I say about being smug?’

‘How could I not be?’ He defends himself, and there’s that soft lovey-dovey voice again. Ella has never heard Lucifer talk like that until today. Just before the door clicks, she hears the sound of a kiss.

Ship: Sailing.

Day: Made.

[iliumheightnights]

Daniel Stark (OC) Fluff ABC

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?) - Daniel has two things that he finds the most attractive, personality and looks. The guy can be the hottest guy ever, but they won’t get anywhere without being a good person. “Luckily Peter is both hot AND a good boy.”

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?) - Oh for sure Daniel wants a family. Eventually, He and Peter will have kids. Now, how many? That’s still being figured out. “We’re naming our son Benjamin. I think that’s a given.” Daniel says making Peter cry.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?) - Little spoon, face pressed into Peter’s chest. He’s like a koala. Tony has walked into the living room many times to find the two passed out and clinging onto each other. “Pft. Gross.”

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?) - It really depends on what he and Peter want to do. If they’re feeling romantic they can be SO romantic. Daniel pulls out all the stops for Peter, not leaving out any details. If they’re both feeling lazy but still want to do something, Daniel will conjure up food for them and watch movies.

“I hope you’re enjoying date night Peter.”

“I am! Still can’t believe we’re at a restaurant at the bottom of the ocean.”

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…)) - “You’re my entire universe, Peter. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?) - Daniel started feeling...feelings for Peter when he saw how the boy really did care for people and protected them no matter what. But he knew he was in LOVE when he saw the way Peter laughed at his dad’s stupid jokes like they were the best treasure in the world.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?) - It depends really. Daniel IS a gentle person by nature...but sometimes, especially in bed, he can get rough.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?) - Believe it or not, Daniel actually doesn’t like holding hands. He does if Peter really wants some, but Danny doesn’t like how holding hands makes him feel clammy. However, he totally does grab Peter’s hand if things start looking bad or scary.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?) - Oh, Daniel and Peter got off on such a bad start. Daniel saw Peter as a replacement to him even though Tony tried to make it clear that wasn’t the case. Of course, that didn’t mean anything when he saw how Tony and Peter acted together. Daniel constantly tormented Peter at the beginning and used his magic to prank him all the time.

“Danny, I love you, you’re my son. So please...please stop messing with Peter.”

“I will when you two stop trying to replace me.”

“We’re not replacing you! Now please, get rid of that spider.”

“Mr.Stark please help me! It’s so big!”

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?) - Oh yes. Yes, Daniel gets very jealous. I mean take how he reacted to Peter and Tony at first. Then after they started dating anyone who flirted with Peter was in the danger zone. It was even worse because by then, Daniel had mastered more of his magic.

“Danny come on. Change him back!” Peter said as he lifted up his hand with a three-inch tall guy on it that Daniel had shrunk.

“I will when he apologizes for flirting with you.”

“Danny…”

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?) - He loves to give passionate kisses. He wants all of his love to pour into Peter. He also of course does the quick pecks on the cheek when in a rush or feeling spontaneous. I feel like Peter actually would have been the one to start the first kiss. It was probably after some big battle and he just had that adrenaline to do it.

“Oh...sorry.”

Daniel of course pulled him right back in for more.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?) - Oh this is a hard one. I might have to come back to it.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?) - Their favorite memory together would probably be when Tony had sent them both on a ‘business trip to the Carribeans and they got to relax for an entire two weeks. They got to stay in the Stark vacation house there and got to just be a couple and not heroes or a Stark.

“Can we not go back? Can we just...stay here forever?”

“I agree. Let’s tell dad we just got lost.”

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?) - Daniel really does spoil Peter. Daniel likes to show his love through gifts and will buy ridiculous things just because he thinks Peter will like them. It’s easier for Daniel, not only cause he’s a Stark, but because he can conjure literally anything Peter wants.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?) - Red is the color that always makes him think of Peter. Especially if it’s paired with blue and black. It’s mostly because of his suit.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?) - Daniel has totally called Peter: Petey, Spidey, Honey, bug-boy.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?) - Cuddles. Daniel is a serial cuddler and he wants lots of them when he can. Peter doesn’t object, he loves cuddles too.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?) - Honestly Daniel was probably the one to create the rain. Usually Danny tries his water magic whenever it rains or if he’s not feeling it, continue whatever he was doing inside. Honestly, a rainy day doesn’t change anything except his mood. He really likes when it rains.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?) - Daniel crashes in bed whenever he’s sad. That or he escapes to his own pocket dimension because when he’s sad, his magic could start to get away from him and he doesn’t need that to happen.

If someone else is upset, he’ll do everything in his power to make them feel better. From using his magic to just sitting and talking. Anything.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?) - Honestly just mention something about magic or dinosaurs and he’ll talk your ears off about them. He also loves talking about his family, but he likes to keep what he says pretty close to him.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?) - Spending time with his dads or with Peter is a big help. He also loves to write to let things out.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?) - His dads and Peter. They’re the best things in his life and he loves showing them off. Not even his magic gets as much attention as they do.

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?) - Call him a sap. Daniel will propose to Peter in his dad’s lab where they first met saying exactly that. However, neither are ready for that just yet so...mark that in your calendar.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?) - the lightning strike by snow patrol.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?) - Oh yeah, Daniel totally thinks of it. But again, they’re both too young and neither are ready for it, so they’re going to take their time and not rush things.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?) - They end up getting a cat and dog. Daniel wanted a cat and Peter wanted a dog. Neither would compromise so that’s how they ended up with both.

[texanredrose]

Camellia Monochrome for an old friend?

Blake entered the throne room hurriedly, Weiss hardly two steps behind, and she only became more unnerved by what she saw. When the summons arrived, the faunus princess knew that it was important; her parents rarely sent an official messenger to find her and had never before specifically requested Weiss’ presence as well. It had to be something far outside the norm to prompt such and the full legion of royal guards flanking the throne room, decked out in full armor with their weapons on display. At the end of the hall on the dais, her parents sat on their thrones in full regalia, her father’s expression severe with his crown sitting low across furrowed brows while her mother appeared only slightly more at ease, her feline ears standing tall and far too still to be natural.

“Mom? Dad? What’s wrong?”

“Blake,” her father said, a heaviness to his tone. “We’ve received trouble news that may be... upsetting to hear but we believe it to be true.”

“We have diligently searched for any potential indication that there might be misinformation or falsehoods but there are none.” Her mother tilted her head slightly. “We have done our due diligence. You must listen to what we have to say.”

“Of course,” she replied, confused and uneasy.

With a heavy sigh, her father spoke again. “Your knight attendant was sent here to kill you. She’s an assassin, Blake.”

Although it probably shouldn’t, the accusation prompted relief and she couldn’t help but say the first thing that came to mind because of it. “I know that.”

In the silence that followed, one could hear a pin drop, if any dared to break it.

“You... know,” her mother finally said deliberately, ears twitching. “How long have you known?”

“Since a month after I arrived,” Weiss answered, waving off Blake’s attempt to do the talking. “I told Blake about my mission to assassinate the entire royal family when I realized I wouldn’t- and couldn’t- complete it.”

The royal guards surrounding them shifted uneasily, a few inching closer, looking to their king and queen for any sign that they should attack.

But the order didn’t come, even as her father’s expression became even more severe. “You’re bold to admit to such so openly.”

The woman shook her head. “No, for the same reason I can’t complete the mission I was charged with; it takes no courage to admit such here.” Then, she gave them a small, sad smile, the same one Blake had become rather familiar with during their time together. “All three of you... are kind, to a fault one might say. A hundred knights you have, this great show of force... but you would’ve had every right to arrest or execute me without so much as a word as to why. You didn’t do that. Because that’s not your way; you will defend yourselves but never take that first strike, even if it might save you from pain. So here we are, all truths laid bare, and a implicit understanding that if I raise my hand, your knights will react... but not a moment before.”

The King pressed his lips into a thin line. “Then, you must realize you will be banished from the kingdom-”

“Banished? For what?” Blake stepped forward, hands balling into fists. “She’s done nothing to warrant a banishment.”

“She’s literally an assassin, honey,” her mother gently said.

“A very poor one!” A pause as she turned her head. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Weiss wryly replied. “But they have a point. I’m a liability.”

“That’s not true.” Blake looked to her parents. “She told me the truth months ago; it was my decision to not tell either of you. Weiss has done nothing wrong.”

“Be that as it may, she did come here with the intent to kill us. That she’s changed her mind is... irrelevant.” Even as he said the word, she could tell her father didn’t like it and didn’t agree with the sentiment. It didn’t sit well with any of them, not when they spent so much time preaching and practicing forgiveness where applicable. “She’s an enemy of the crown.”

“I refuse to believe that.” She could feel her anger rising up, taking a step forward. “Does she not deserve a chance to redeem herself in your eyes?”

“Blake.”

With reluctance, she looked back, recognizing that tone of voice. It was the same one Weiss used whenever disagreeing so staunchly that no amount of discussion could sway her. Although a rarity nowadays, it came out whenever Blake suggested anything along the lines of reaching out to the woman’s family. Her refusal to complete the mission she’d been given had made her an enemy of her home kingdom and she could never return. There was no going back. “Weiss...”

Without responding, the woman strode forward towards the dais, stopping when the assembled knights began to fidget. Then, she knelt down and bowed her head. “I willingly submit myself to the judgment of the crown. My destiny is in your hands, Your Majesties.”

Her father shifted uncomfortably; it was always easier to enforce harsh penalties on the unrepentant because then it felt justified. Those who accepted their judgments with grace and dignity tugged at his desire to show mercy.

Her mother, however, seemed intrigued. “Your destiny? Not your fate?”

“There’s a difference?” The King muttered.

“Destiny is a function of choice; fate is beyond one’s individual control,” she replied. “And I believe you’re well read enough to know the difference.”

“I am, Your Majesty.” Weiss lifted her head and spoke with such a certainty that it made Blake hold her breath. “From the moment I met your daughter, I realized I was fated to love her and to be in love with her. My heart belongs to her completely and there’s nothing I can do to change that... nor would I want to, frankly. It is also my fate, then, to protect her from any harm; my very soul demands it.” A brief pause. “Whether or not I remain by her side... is a choice I can make. I could choose to defy your judgment and remain beside her but that would be the selfish option. Instead, I make the choice to continue loving her no matter what, no matter where I am, no matter if I ever see her again, and dedicate myself to keeping her safe from afar. If it is your decree that I am exiled, I choose to accept that destiny.”

Tears stung Blake’s eyes at the sincerity in the woman’s voice. While she’d lived all her life on the receiving end of unwavering, unconditional love, she knew Weiss hadn’t. For the woman to love so deeply- love her so deeply- touched her to the very core.

And she refused to let the declaration go unacknowledged.

Drawing her sword, Blake marched forward and walking around until she stood before Weiss, with her back to her parents. Blue eyes looked up at her questioningly but she didn’t hesitate, kneeling down and flipping the blade around, the tip of her it digging into the stone beneath them. “Draw your sword.”

“Blake-”

“Draw your sword,” she said again more forcefully, ignoring her parents’ warning.

Weiss did as asked and mirrored her position, their knuckles pressed against each other. From her forearm, Blake drew her ribbon and began winding it, entwining them together in a rite as old as her kingdom’s written history. Like marriage but more intricate, carrying more symbolism; the ribbon bound them in a way that escaped articulation but went beyond a mere promise of fidelity and support. If Weiss was fated to love her, then she would bind their souls together.

The various knights murmured their surprise but none dared interfere. Although her off hand struggled at points, the woman wordlessly offered her assistance, and together they completed the pattern.

“No matter where you are, in this world or the next, we are bound,” she said, resolute in her decision. “I love you, Weiss.”

“And I love you, Blake.” Weiss fought to keep her voice steady but failed as tears gathered in her eyes. “No matter what.”

Leaning forward, she caught the woman in a kiss. A thousand things they wanted to say had to be conveyed in the meeting of lips, for fear they might not get another chance, and when they pulled away, Blake could see so many emotions swirling in blue eyes. Despite how calmly she’d spoken before, Weiss was in pain at the thought of them being apart, just as much as her.

The King spoke, choosing his words carefully. “Have you protected her thus far from anyone aside yourself, Ser Knight?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Weiss replied. “I’ve killed seventeen assassins thus far.”

The Queen, once again, seemed keen on clarifying. “Are you counting the courtier from last week? The one who mysteriously disappeared after the feast?”

“My apologies, Your Majesty, that would be eighteen-” Then, Weiss’ eyes went wide, and Blake joined her in her surprise. Just as the woman’s mission to assassinate the royal family had been a secret, so too had Weiss’ actions to keep the royal family safe. Even Blake didn’t know the full extent of the things the woman did to take care of any threats.

“Stand down, guards, and return to your posts.”

Then, her mother appeared, a small smile on her lips as her ears relaxed. “We, perhaps, were a touch misleading earlier. We’ve known about your mission for a bit longer than Blake has.”

“You... have...”

“Mom?”

“You’ve never been shy about reminding us that you can take care of yourself,” she explained with a chuckle. “And we could tell from meeting her that she lacked the soul of an assassin. She isn’t the first sent to try and kill us, after all.”

Her father sighed in relief. “We thought you would’ve mentioned it to us; we didn’t want to bring it up first and potentially cause an argument.”

“But now that everything’s out in the open.” The Queen reached out and set her hand on theirs. “The crown recognizes your bond... and we welcome you to the family, Princess Weiss. Would you like a proper wedding as well or will the bond suffice?”

They both looked at each other as a moment of silence stretched, the situation sinking in until Weiss finally smiled widely.

“I would,” she said, a tear slipping from her eye and rolling down her cheek, the meaning of it changed entirely in a very short amount of time. “I would like nothing more than another chance to tell everyone how much I love you, Blake.”

That prompted a laugh to bubble up from her chest as it finally sunk in, relief flooding through her body. “I rather like the sound of that as well.”

---

AN: kinda a continuation from the other ask, but works well enough on its own I guess, idk, hope you enjoyed.